#and I want to know if some will still think that even if Buddie goes canon for some us

[banquetwriter]

sorry if your requests aren’t open (this is my first time requesting so it will probably be bad) but if they are. Could you possibly write something about Bucky and John walker fighting over reader who is oblivious and them finding out she was dating Bob the whole time? If not that’s fine :)

୨୧ Jealousy ୨୧

pairing: Bob Reynolds ♡︎ Fem!Reader

warnings: ୭̥⋆*｡ allusions to self harm/ sort of explicit self harm (not with a blade of any kind tho), jealous bob :/, walker being an ass man, bucky being a little shit, some angst and talk of depression and anxiety, bob has minor suicidal  thoughts, NOT EDITED

summary: ʚ bob doesn’t believe he’s good enough to love you, but you’ve never been happier ɞ

Words: 3.7k

A/N: sorry love this took so long to write but dw dw your request was perfect !! i decided to change it a little bc i don’t think bucky would be the type to fight over a taken person he’s very old school as far as that goes but i hope you love it :)

A bead of sweat dripped down the spine of your back, rolling swiftly down to the waistband of your workout leggings. Walker huffed in front of you, raised his eyebrows practically begging you to strike again. Your leg flies faster than your mind can allow. His hand catches your ankle, your breath hitches preparing for the impact.

With a solid thump you land back into the mat, Walker’s heaving form above you. his hands held your wrists down preventing you from moving. “You suck.” you quip as he sits up, resting on his knees, hands placed on his thighs.

You shimmy forward only to see Walker’s hand offering to help you up. Not wanting to provoke him any, you accept his hand. His super strength picks you up with ease. “You know you're actually getting better.” he says re-adjusting the green faded wraps on his knuckles,

You smirk as you unscrew your water bottle lid off, the cool air of the water freezing your face and mouth as you gulp the liquid down. “Thanks Walker.” you say raising your hand up. With the gesture the cap to your water bottle falls. “Oops.” you mutter, not even thinking twice about bending over to pick it up.

As you bent over John’s eye fell over your figure. Not in some pervy weirdo way, just one human being noticing another human. Bob, however, does not understand that. His fingers laced with each other as he picked the skin around his nails raw. He watches as Walker’s eyes flick away from your form, not missing the way his eyebrows raise.

Bob’s stomach felt like it sunk to his feet. It wasn't your fault your butt was nice to look at. Still, it killed him slowly that no one on the team knew. ‘It was better this way’ you'd always say. Bob knew it was true.

Knowing Val she’d turn it into a PR opportunity. It didn't stop the insecurities that he worked so hard to remove slowly creep their way slowly back into his mind. Thoughts came like cavities, rotting his soul away. Of course you’d catch the attention of a super soldier.

Bob stood in the doorway of the sparing room, a mournful expression. His head hung low as he decided it was best if he left you alone. “Wanna go again?” Bob heard Walker’s voice through the walls (curse sentry serum hearing) he felt a solid wave of nausea hit him.

What his enhanced hearing didn't pick up was your response. “Aaahh, no thanks buddy. I'm supposed to hang out with Bob here in a few.” you said screwing the cap on tightly. Walker just hummed. “Well I hope you and your boyfriend enjoy whatever it is.” the blonde man said, holding his hands up in a defensive position. Was it obvious you loved him?

Probably.

You just rolled your eyes, setting out of the room and off to find Bob. As you walked down the stairs to the main room, it was empty. No Bob here. As you turned to enter the hallway that led to a sector of personal spaces you saw a small white blob towards the end of the hall.

You cocked your head to the side as you approached the blob to reveal a rather large white cat. “Hello…” you whispered as the feline padded up to you meowing. You reach for the collar of the cat reading the name tag ‘Alpine’ flipping it over to see Bucky’s name and number- you'd have to talk to him later about that-

You stood up grabbing the fluffy pearl cat into your arms and peeked into Bob’s room- also empty. You frowned, pulling your phone out quickly, sending Bob a text that you loved him and to head to his room, when he was ready, so you could finally see him after such a long day. You give the cat a few more head scratches and attempt to place her down.

Alpine had other ideas because as soon as you sat her down she ran quickly up to you and stood on your training shoes to meow, yell, at you to pick her back up.

“She's a clingy one huh?” Bucky’s voice cuts through the shuffling of you picking up the cat again. You huff not even hearing the man walk up. His silent entrance most likely leftover from his winter soldier days…

The cat slowly blinks at the man meowing for him to give her all the pets and head scratches she wanted. He had a rare smile plastered on his face as he scratched under her chin. A quiet intimacy wrapped its loving arms around you both as you shared a quiet happiness in that hallway. Bucky couldn't help but let his eyes drift to you.

Your happy expression caused his eyes to rack over every feature. Taking in your delight. His tongue licked over his lips slightly. The cat had settled into your arms nicely, it was a domestic feeling Bucky hadn’t felt since before his best friend became a superhero.

A different kind of feeling was happening across the tower. Bob sat huddled into your blanket, tears streamed down his face. The image of John staring at you was making him sick.

“You will never be worthy of her.” the void’s voice cut through his mind. The constant reminder that no one on the team knew you were dating him. You were dating Bob. NOT Walker. The blanket was pulled over his head hiding him from the rest of the world. Your scent filled his nostrils as he tried to calm down.

Your shampoo, body wash, perfume- everything tangled his throat. Bob was never one to cry, usually let alone sob like he was now. After the worst of his outburst was done the sound of his phone chiming caused the sniffling man to poke his head out and check.

It might have been Val’s team updating him on mission stuff… not like he went. That was something you had pushed for, adding him to the group chat. To make him feel included.

You were always doing that… going above and beyond to comfort him. He felt around for his phone the blinding light burning his bleary eyes. It took a few seconds before he could read the text you sent.

It felt like Bob’s heart stopped. No beats, just a pause. Then as he re-read and kept re-reading your text.

‘Hey honey I'm done with training, I love you so much and miss your cute face… I'm going to shower in your room so come over when your ready ;)’

His tears illuminated by the phone screen light as he shot up like a well-watered plant. He rubbed his sweater sleeve hand over his face trying to dry and remaining tears. He sniffles hard as he tries to clean himself up.

Opening your door he borderline sprints to the elevator, going up to the floor that held HIS room. He couldn't contain how excited he was to see you. He walked past the living room, his legs working faster than his brain as he rounded the corner to the hallway that held several rooms including his own.

The sight before him stopped him dead before he made it into the hallway. You had a white cat cuddled up into your arms, Bucky was standing close, too close, to you. His vibranium arm petted the cat on its head.

Bob watched as you laughed, honest-to-goodness laughed. The crinkle of your mouth and eyes. If Bob felt nauseous with jealousy earlier this was way worse than anything that happened earlier.

You both didn't even see him, he was as always invisible. Bob pulled back out of view. He was too tired to cry anymore.

“You will never make her happy.” the voice cuts him like a whip. He takes a sharp breath. He needed to escape. Again he found his feet carrying himself, his brain unable to think about anything other than how much he wasn't worthy of you.

It felt like water filled his lungs, unable to breathe he found the fire exit that was located behind the movie theater no one ever used.

You and Bob had found it one night as you were… looking for a change of scenery, let's just say.

The fire escape led to a stairwell, and that led to the very top of the building too. Not much of a fire escape…

No one on the team had even used it in weeks. It was used mostly in the warm summer evenings but as the Fall fast approached it was left unused.

Not tonight however. His feet brought him to the rooftop faster than lightning. He felt shaky-wobbly. What was wrong with him? Why would you ever think he'd be enough for you?

He felt his stomach churn as he saw just how high up he was… a thought flickered across his mind…

If he… fell… would he die? Would the Sentry serum stop the inevitable?

Was it inevitable?

He took a sharp breath in. ‘It’s ok. You're ok.’ a new voice said. It was yours. It was the same voice that calmed his nervous system down almost instantly. He steps away from the ledge physically and metaphorically. He trotted back to the wall with the door leading into the tower.

He slid down it, his eyes tired. The sky had turned a beautiful pink-orange hue. The breeze chilled him even through his fuzzy sweater.

————-

“You know you should not be putting your number on this cat's collar.” You murmured, setting the cat down once and for all. The man looked down at his cat as she rubbed up against him. “No?” He asked, placing his hands on his hips. “No.” You confirmed trying to remove the copious amount of cat hair off of yourself.

“I’m sure Steve told you to not put your phone number out into the public…” you said softly bringing up his old friend. Bucky looked around, “This,” he gestured around. “Is not the public.”

You huffed, “No but if that cat-“

“Alpine.” He cuts you off.

You take a deep breath in. “If Alpine- gets out someone could have your personal number.” You inform him. Who knows what people could do with that. “That’s sort of the idea,” he counters, still not getting your point. You rub your temple slightly with your fingers. God you missed your boyfriend. “Whatever man.” You mumble hand landing on his door handle, you turn it almost making it into Bob’s room.

“Hey.” He says, causing you to turn back to him. “Thanks kid.” He says, you do nothing but give him an over enthusiastic smile holding your thumb up. He rolls his eyes before trodding after his cat. You close the door to your boyfriend's room. It was dark and messy and not very personable. There were a few little trinkets placed around his room, little reminders of his personality you suppose.

Sometimes you wish you could just tell the team. It had only been two months but it was getting exhausting to hide. Plus you were certain that everyone sorta knew already. You did make it pretty obvious how much you loved that man. It wasn’t your fault he was so nice to look at.

You open his drawer to his wardrobe and rummage around until you find a pair of pants and a shirt to steal. You walk into his bathroom, even less evidence of life there. A toothbrush and a few other necessities and that was all. You didn’t mind though, he spent most of his time in your room nowadays anyways.

You turned the hot water on letting it heat up as you stripped your old training gear off. You plunged under the water, cleaning yourself with his shampoo, body wash etc… It was so romantic and intimate. The whole room had a thick cloud of steam that wrapped around you like a blanket as you rinsed off and stepped out of the shower.

You dried and dressed yourself fully expecting to see Bob waiting on his bed. So when you stepped up your hair in a hair towel you dawned a look of confusion. You were starting to worry. Bob hadn't had a ‘bad’ day in a while but that doesn't mean they were gone…

You decided to check your phone, no texts from him. You chewed on the inside of your cheek as you assessed what to do. You sighed before opening another app on your phone. It was a location sharing one… not that you were some creepy obsessive girlfriend.

No, it was because you left for missions and Bob slept a bit safer at night knowing where you are or where your phone was. Bob would never admit it to you but sometimes he wouldn't sleep just stare at the phone watching you. Again not in a creepy stalker wta just… it calmed his heart to see you were safe.

The little icon of Bob showed he was still in the tower, that was good. You zoomed in to see his was up and to the right of you. In your heart you knew where he was. You turned your phone off and slipped it into your pocket. Pulling one of his jackets on you slipped quietly to the back entrance to the roof. Jogging up the stairs and out onto the roof.

You didn't see him anywhere but a small voice behind you made you turn around. “What are you doing out here?” he asked, staring up at you. Your head whipped around to see him huddled up against the wall sweater sleeves pulled over his hands.

“Honey…” you said crouching down to his level, plopping next to him in the walk. “I could ask you the same thing.” you whispered. He didn't meet your eyes. Embarrassment burned in his body. His silence was enough for you to understand what might have been going on. His mind became a war zone sometimes. You tried your best to pull him out of it.

“You wanna talk about it?” Your voice was quiet but strong. Bob finally looked at you, his puffy eyes and tear standing cheeks made your heart hurt. You didn't immediately reach out for him, just stared, letting him have control of the conversation. Because if there was something Bob hated more than himself it was pity.

He opened his mouth but the right words didn't come out, how was he supposed to explain to you what he was feeling?

You didn't say anything, just stared out at the beautiful sunset that stretched the whole sky. Your head slowly dropped to his shoulder. That made him feel even more guilty. “Have you been up here the whole time?” you asked, still just staring out at the sky. He took a shaky breath. “No.” he said his voice was coarse.

He cleared his throat a little then spoke more, this time more clear. “No… I was in your room earlier,” he admitted, and while he knew you'd never say this for some reason he waited for you to get mad. Call him a creepy perv for hiding in your room. Instead you chuckled at the parallel.

“I went to your room earlier when I missed you.” you said softly buzzing against his shoulder slightly. This made him turn around to face you. You lifted away from him slightly to see him properly. “You- you missed me?” he asked, his voice was barely above a whisper but it had the power of a roaring wave.

“Of course, I haven't seen you all day. And I didn't really get to see you yesterday because if these stupid new training Val is having me do- and don't get me started on Walker. I love the guy like a brother but Jesus is he dense.” you mutter wiping your hand with your hand.

He felt a little better with your words. “I missed you too,” he paused for a second looking out at the fading sunset. “I'm sorry your tranjgnd are hard. I wish I could help.” he said with a small smile. You waved him off. “Don't stress yourself out about it.” you quip. He smiles wider.

Your hands interlace with his but as your hands slide over his, you notice his torn fingertips and your face falls. You open your mouth to speak but he beats you to it. “I'm sorry.” his defenses started to come up. You shake your head holding his hands tighter, “Don't say you're sorry, just tell me what happened.” you said your gaze was sad but soft.

“I-” he stops himself trying to find the right words. “I saw you and Walker earlier- it's stupid but he- he looked at your…” his voice trailed off. He suddenly felt so embarrassed by what he was saying. You squeezed his hands encouraging him to continue. “He looked at your butt and it made me all jealous.” he said waiting for your reaction. You opened your mouth but he opened his faster. “And I know your going to say you'd never be with a guy like Walker but- it just reminded me how much I don't des-” he stops again squeezing his eyes shut.

“How much I FEEL like I don't deserve you. And-” he sighed looking into your beautiful eyes. You continued to stay quiet letting him rant his feelings. “And then I saw you with-with Bucky and I just.” He gestures with his hands before he sighs. “You just looked so happy. I don’t want to drag you down. You deserve to love someone… who's… not me.” He says finally. You sigh, it hurts you to think he isn't worthy of your love.

”We don’t always understand love. I don't understand why someone as incredible as you would ever love someone like me.” you said but he shook his head not believing you. “I'm not going to sit here and tell you how great you are and how much I love you, I'm going to sit here and tell you that you have not been given real love before. Real love is not conditional. My love will not stop when you're having a bad day, when I'm mad at you, my love for you doesn't stop.” you tell him holding his hands tightly.

“And while other people can stare at my ass, none of that matters because I am going to be staring right at your ass.” you said poking his chest, Bob let out a small giggle, “yeah? My flat ass is really doing it for ya?” he asks with a tired but real smile. “Oh definitely. And if it makes it better I was only talking to Bucky to yell at him about outing his phone number on his cat's collar-”

“Oh that's not smart.” Bob said, shaking his head slightly. “That's what I said!” you said smiling. The tension slowly rolled back into the cracks of silence. “The next time you feel like this I need you to tell me, even if we can't do anything about it at the moment I need to be there for you Bob.” god did your voice sound so good saying his name.

You bring his hands up to his view. “And this? Thus has to stop my love. I'm going to be here every step of the way ok? But you can’t hurt yourself baby.” your voice made tears prickle at his eyes. “I'm sorry I can't help it sometimes.” He whispers, he wanted to hide his hands away from yours. He doesn't, he just lets you hold him.

“Don't say sorry baby.” your voice was gentle, the breeze didn't feel so harsh anymore, and the sunsetting was beautiful. Life didn't feel so scary anymore. “Thank you honey,” his words made you beam. You were always going to be here for him. Always.

Eventually you pulled him through the door. His body caged you against the wall, his mouth exploring yours. His hands crept up your torso, he pulled his mouth away for a second. “Is this my shirt?” he asked his hand roaming your body. “Maybe.” you answer.

“It looks better on you,” he murmurs before kissing you again. His soft lips making your head feel fuzzy.

“Ahem.”

The noise makes you both whip your heads around. Buckh stood with his hands on his hips staring at you both with a content expression. ”knew it.” he quips walking away. Your hand flies to your mouth as Bob stares eyes wide. “Fuck.” he mutters running and anxious hand through his hair… This was bad! This is the exact thing you wanted to avoid.

Bob’s mind began to speed through every negative thought he could. You were only out there because of him… “It's fine. Who cares if Bucky knows? He won't say anything.” you say with a reassuring smile. “You sure?” he asks. You nod your head with a smile. “Positive.”

————

You yawned as you patted out to the kitchen as John made breakfast. Bob and the rest of the team were already munching away. Your body is still sore from last night's… activities. “Morning.” you chirped to your family, immediately heading to the coffee station. “Morning,” John said unusually giddy. You make your coffee and turn around to see everyone is staring at you. You furrow your brows taking a sip of your drink.

“So…” Yelena started poking her fork into her food, “how long?” she asked with a satisfied smirk. “Mm?” you asked confusedly, rubbing your thumbs along the cup. “You and Bob. How long?” Ava reiterates. You turn to look at Bucky who has a shit-eating grin. You flick your eyes to Bob whose cheeks are burning red and breath is starting to quicken in pure fear.

You take a moment before deciding what your play was, you could either deny it and keep the nosey lot on their toes or admit to it and ruin their fun. You take a long sip of your coffee allowing the caffeine to fuel your system.

“2 months.”

[izaanagi]

omg hiii

If you still take requests, i want some fluff with haikyuu men pls. (ONLY IF U DO THAT OFC 🫶)

Im currently having my period abd left a stain on my new sofa😭, and i want them to comfort me 🥹

(I need an oikawa, tsukishima n kuroo pls, then who you wanna do, or just these three. THANK YOU SO MUCH 😭🫶)

haikyuu men + fluff antics feat. Tsukishima Kei, Kuroo Tetsuro and Oikawa Tooru.

— Tsukishima Kei.

It makes up for a pretty excuse that you had a tough week at work and there is nothing more you would like than to fall into your bed and forget about the world. 

Always on the run, always trying to get more things in your schedule until you are running ragged is the only way you fare, and you tell yourself that nothing might make you better besides maybe a gallon of ice cream - but even then you know you are lying to yourself. 

So, all it takes is one phone call and some minutes for a knock to come banging at your door. When you open it, a pink fluffy bathrobe the only thing you are wearing, Tsukishima Kei is standing at the door, a black bag hanging from his hand. He is trying to be non-chalant, but there is a certain expectation in his eyes that you cannot help but find endearing. 

“Why, come in,” you invite him in, as Tsukishima takes off his shoes and leaves the snacks you did not request of him on the counter in the kitchen. 

Then, all you need to do is wait sitting on the couch until Kei wanders in and sits against you. Immediately, you can feel your body getting more relaxed, the tendons losing their strung-like tension as your head plummets onto his broad shoulder. 

“You are a terrible cuddle buddy, Kei,” you say, no real bite in your voice. You can already feel the softness of sleep tugging at your seams. 

“That’s news to me,” he says as he settles in, and tugs you by your arm. You end up on his lap, side to his chest and you head finding itself into the right spot, tucked beneath his chin. 

“You’re hard as a rock,” you mumble. 

You can feel Kei freeze up. Once the double-entendre registers, you laugh at yourself - because you maybe have lost all your goddamned mind if now you can joke in front of Kei and not have it mean anything besides an expression of comfort in his presence. 

“You really are a danger to me,” he answers, wrapping his hand around your shoulder as the other settled down on your thigh, and his thumbs start drawing senseless shapes onto your soft skin. He kisses your hair, and then you simply sit there, wrapped in the warmth and the love that oozes from every pore of the man that you swore would never been anything besides cold. And yet, here he is, cuddling you to sleep, his arms welcoming you everytime you need him. 

His heartbeat becomes the rhythm of your breathing, and as the night goes on, you can feel your fatigue lulling you to sleep. 

“You know, Kei?” 

“Mmh,” he answers, half asleep himself, besides how he must not be in the most uncomfortable of positions. 

“I think that ice cream is gonna melt,” you say, as you twine your fingers with his. His palm are slightly sweaty, but he brings your united hand to his mouth and kisses your hand softly, sealing a promise, the words of it lost to the night. 

“Let it,” he answers. 

“What if I want some at 4am?” You ask, almost upset thinking about the waste. But Kei does not let you get off his lap, he simply tightens his hold on you and nuzzles his nose in the space between your neck and shoulder. 

“I’ll buy you some more,” he answers. 

“Promise?” 

“Yeah. Now, let’s go to sleep,” he says, as he sweeps you in a princess hold and all you have to do is let him walk to your bedroom and close your eyes, knowing that tomorrow is going to be another day.

— Kuroo Tetsuro.

Kuroo is late to bed. 

Tetsuro is never late. But he has been spending an unhealthy amount in the bathroom, and if that is not annoying, then the music coming out of it, certainly is. Why is Kuroo tetsuro even listening to girly pop music as he does whatever it is he does for so long? 

If you did not know him, you would probably assume he was stealing your skincare products. But despite him taking very good care of himself, Tetsuro hates having any kind of cream on his body - so that is not the case. 

“Tetsu! Are you coming to bed or not? I’m going to fall asleep without you,” you shout, your head on your comfortable pillow in Tetsuro’s bed, sprawled in diagonal and occupying all the space you can possibly take. 

“Don’t you dare, you fiend,” he screams back. He appears from the door a minute later, fully pj-clothed and a shit-eating grin on his face, his hand somehow down in a disarray. He looks as if he has a fight inside the bathroom, at which you just shake your head and pat the small space left on the bed near you. 

Kuroo crawls on the bed, and then, continuing being the menace that he is, he lightly bites you thigh, then kisses your stomach and settles on it. 

“Do you think I am your personal pillow, Kuroo?” 

“For all matters and purpose, yes you are,” he drawls as he makes himself more comfortable. His cheek is laying on your belly, his hands wrapped around your waist and his own legs tangling with yours. 

The softness of the lighting makes the scene look out of a book, with Tetsuro contentedly sighing as he is smiling to himself, his favourite person there with him, pliant to his whims and him being ready to go anything for his girl. 

“It is even comfortable?” you ask, a little unsure. Kuroo has always been physical, but the sleeping-in-same-bed is a new thing for you. You are not used to whatever his little quirks are, but Tetsuro has the special ability to make you feel safe anywhere. 

The bedroom is not an exception. He never asks for anything, but you know that he is trying to gauge where your boundaries stand and how far can he push them. The innocent glint in his eyes is the proof that the mischief is a calculated move from his side to understand what makes you uncomfortable and how he can work around it, while possibly holding your hand. 

Suddenly, Tetsuro takes your hand and puts it on his disheveled head. 

“Pet me, please” he asks. It is such a wild, out of pocket request that your brain short circuits for a while. Tetsuro does not lose his mind as you do, and guides your hand into a stroking motion that makes you feel how soft his hair actually is. 

“I am the most comfortable with your hands on me,” he says, and that takes you by surprise. 

“I want you in my sight all the time, and the easiest way for me to have that, is you touching me. I want you to be comfortable to touch me anywhere, anytime my love,” he says, slow and deliberate. 

The blush rises to your cheeks unprompted. 

“You are such a smooth talker,” you accuse as you continue stroking his hair and he makes himself more at home between your legs. 

He laughs softly and presses another small kiss onto your stomach. 

“Only for you,” he says and cheekily winks. 

Your combined laughter can be heard across the apartment, as the candles melt off and the sun sets, Tetsuro’s eyes closing, and yours following suit not long after.

— Oikawa Tooru.

“Babe?” you hear your boyfriend calling you softly from somewhere inside the house. Sitting on the kitchen stool, you have no intention to move. Your stomach hurts, everything is tragedy and you are one step away from committing a crime. But Oikawa Tooru does not know any of that. 

He wanders inside with his bright smile, wattage of around one hundred thousand suns, as brightens up even more when his warm brown eyes land on you. 

“What are you smiling for?” you ask, grumpy. 

Tooru just pouts. 

“I am happy that I get to see the love of my life,” he responds, slightly offended - but not butthurt. Which is summary of Tooru in your relationship with him: a gentle, sweet, caring soul that bruises easily but bounces back as easily, at least when it comes to you. You don’t have the guts to keep your mood sour in his presence. 

As Tooru comes around, kisses your shoulder and hugs you from behind, all you can think about is how exactly did you manage to make this man yours. You let out a heavy breath and wrap your arm around his neck, keeping his warm breath clashing against your back and his presence enough to make you melt. 

“I am sorry,” you say as you turn around to face him, his smile already back on his plump lips, and his eyes full of love. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I would love you even if you stabbed me,” he chuckles and hugs you tighter. You leave a kiss on the side of his mouth, and he chases you back planting a soft couple of kisses on your mouth. 

“I just want to rest,” you say, exhausted. Your shoulder slump, and you can feel Tooru supporting you, both with his words and his body. You have nothing to be afraid of. All you need is this man being his usual self, making your worries simply disappears into nothing. 

“Let’s tuck you inside the bed, and I’ll come to make a sweet hot chocolate,” he says and props you up in his arms, and carries you to the bedroom. The apartment is small enough that it is a short walk, but you know Tooru must be exhausted too, after his training - and yet, here he is, taking care of you, without any word of displeasure or hint of annoyance.

“Thank you, Tooru.” 

As you settle in, Tooru simply looks at you as he goes back to the kitchen and says nothing. 

When he is back with a steaming mug few minutes after, you feel the need to say something, before you regret it. 

“Hey Tooru,” you begin.

“Yeah?”

“You know that I love you, right?” 

Tooru delivers the mug on your bedside table and leans in for a kiss. “I do. And I love you too, my bunny.” 

He kisses you again, and when he is back in bed, he settles you in his arms, his arm functioning as a arm for your head. Your breaths are synced and there is nothing to say besides the words that lay unsaid between the two of you. But they are all words of comfort and love, and there is nothing uncomfortable in leaving them in silence. 

You both know. Tooru caresses your arms, your waist, and cups your face. 

“If you ever have a tough day, you can vent to me. You can call me and shout at me if you need. There is nothing I cannot bear, if it is for your sake,” he voices slowly, as if afraid the words will sound somehow twisted after the silence. 

But you smile, and perch yourself high, your hand wrapping around Tooru’s neck and leaning into him to kiss him goodnight. 

“You always make it better with this stupidly stunning face of yours,” you answer. 

“I knew you were dating me for my looks, damn it,” he throws back and kisses you once again, as the world falls away. His angelic face is monumental when he is asleep, but you hope he never finds that out. God forbid his ego grows even mor

[mullermilkshake]

Eight legs? I’ll cut them off.

Part 23 <- Part 24 -> Part 25

Jinwoo goes head to head with the dungeon boss, but forgets something crucial.

Yandere! Jinwoo Sung x Fem Pregnant!reader Canon-typical violence, Spiders

<<< For more Dark/Yandere content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

<<< Or back to this fic's Master list. >>>

I have only watched the anime and haven't gotten round to reading the manhwa yet. Please refrain from spoilers.

TAG LIST CLOSED

“Ugh… Why’d it have to be something so gross?”

Jinwoo noted the spider's aura fluctuating like smog, smoke, a misty boundary beyond the lower rank hunters' perception. It was probably why half of the hunters were trapped inside.

Curious though. The same amount of hunters taken from each group, each stuck on the wall in a pattern mirroring the other like a shrine, a place of worship, like the spider was some sort of god. There were other treasures and mana crystals in piles like they were offerings from other magical beasts, perhaps to keep it from killing them.

That would be a first.

The first thing Jinwoo thought of coming face to face with something so deadly to civilians was you. If that thing managed a dungeon break and got out, you’d be at risk.

The system shot up in Jinwoo’s periphery. 

Weaver of fate

Geodaehan Geoumi

“You’re bigger than a ‘giant spider’ you’re huge!” Jinwoo scratched his head and studied the amber writing above its head. “At least I won’t have to work too hard. I wanted to get some insane experience from this at least… But I’m taking all that home.” 

The treasure in piles, collected in the corners by what Jinwoo presumed was its nest.

Despite being an easier dungeon boss for Jinwoo than some he’d faced already, this wasn’t some C or B-Rank magical beast either. It must have been an upper A-rank. Why was an upper A-Rank doing in a dungeon like this? As far as Jinwoo knew, it wasn’t even an insect dungeon.

“So you’re bigger than the last guy- woah, you’re more colourful than the last one too.” The spider emerged from the pit it dug, cobwebs tugging on its abdomen and catching on the hairs of its legs. “Think you’re pretty cool, huh? Well, I’ll tell you one thing, I don’t know why you’ve kept people alive to make this messed up shrine of yours, but you’re no god…”

Jinwoo summoned his shadows, Iron and Tusk thumped behind him, awaiting their orders just like the others. However, at the sight of his shadows, a dungeon boss would usually charge or react in some way that initiated the battle, defending itself from a threat. Yet the spider did no such thing, it continued stalking its way out of the tunnel and waited there, glaring back at Jinwoo and his shadows with its eight, putrid looking red eyes.

“Are you gonna move, or?” Still nothing. “Look, I get it, my shadow army can be quite overwhelming, but this is ridiculous. Hello?!” He haved his arm in the air arrogantly, huffing and preparing himself just to take it out by himself if it was stuck there. 

Idiot. 

“Mmphh! Mmpph!” Jinwoo waited and listened out for the struggle. One of the cocooned hunters.

Jinwoo called back. “I’ll get you out after I kill the giant thinks-he’s-god spider! Just hold in there.”

“Atc out fo, mphmm!” 

“Yeah… I can totally understand that.” Jinwoo disregarded them and pushed off to close the distance.

“Wait- hel- you hav-” 

“What now?”

Everything stopped, the spider did not move, stuck in suspended animation. One of the cocoons moved, wriggling like a distressed maggot. One on the far right, dangling against broken, moss covered stock bricks, clinging to a desperation Jinwoo just didn’t have.

A person emerged from it, their face poking out enough to speak. “Watch out for its poison!” 

Jinwoo glared at the spider, noticing the purple smoke emanating from its abdomen. “Oh, so you’re a poison boy too? Want to test that theory, buddy?”

“You’ll forget!” 

Jinwoo smiled, put his dagger into his hand and commanded  “Let’s make this quick… Iron, you know what to do.”

Iron bounded forward and shouted at it, hoping to pull the spider into a frenzied attack, that way, Jinwoo could see how it moved, how it defended itself. Yet it didn’t. Again, it never moved, just released the poison that was beginning to fill the room like a smoke screen.

Maybe this is how it hunts? It doesn’t have to move, it just poisons people. It could be why half the teams made it out. 

“Try using your poison on me then-”

Jinwoo stopped, mouth open and watched Iron sprint towards the spider, a feral wolf growling and snarling at it. Iron was pissed off because the spider ignored his battle cries. Fucking hell. 

“Iron- Iron!” Jinwoo was ignored.

The shadow swung his battle axe at the spider's leg, slicing through its exoskeleton but not cutting it off. That’s when it moved. That’s when it was done stalking its prey. The spider swung its rear leg at Iron, catching his axe at the last minute, hitting each other back and forth. The main body remained like stone, subconsciously using independent limbs to fight while it continued to poison the room.

“Tusk, light him up.”

The shadow took position, preparing himself for an attack that was probably unnecessary, but it would end the bullshit dungeon in no time. Jinwoo made his own move, running to the hunters in time and severing the cocoons from each section for the protection of the shadow army.

It was then that Jinwoo finally encountered the true dungeon, the spider was disappearing and the smokey poison flooded his senses. It smelled like your shampoo from the bathroom, your own perfume with a woody, vanilla aroma. All familiar scents filling his nose like you could have been right in front of him inside that place.

Wait… Who am I thinking about? 

He placed the cocoons down, some moved, some remained lifeless. Jinwoo rubbed his temples, pinched his nose and thought really hard. Tusk unleashed his attack on the spider and waited for further instruction, sitting there in his posture awaiting for the smoke to clear. The purple poison remained, the spider remained, fighting with Iron as though nothing happened.

Who was I thinking about again? I know that face, but what’s her name? She’s pretty. 

“Tusk, hit him again.”

Jinwoo took his dagger and prepared himself, if that spider wanted to fight with poison, he’d give it back to him in kind. He sprinted towards it, keeping to the side as Tusk let off another attack, he waited until the powerful blow had ceased and the fire was starting to fade away.

The dagger came down in the spider's eye and only then did it move, quicker than anticipated, screeching and squealing in Jinwoo’s direction.

“Y’know the best way to kill a spider? Now, I don’t have a cat, but I have a bear, close enough, right?” Jinwoo went to blows with the spider, slicing at its legs and cutting and ripping the blue blood from its circulation. “Tank!”

I want to summon Beru, but where is he? I don't remember assigning him anywhere. 

Jinwoo tried concentrating, but the features of a woman he couldn't remember were blinding him. He kept inhaling the smoke, resilient to poison yet he wasn’t resilient to the woman he couldn’t remember.

Wait, she’s pregnant, isn’t she? Who’s the father? Have we spoken before? 

He just couldn’t fucking remember.

Tank lunged and rammed the spider as Tusk prepared again, waiting on the word. Jinwoo nodded him over and withdrew. He wasn’t at full fighting strength, and he didn’t know why. Jinwoo couldn’t think of anything other than that woman.

The spider was finally showing cracks in its exoskeleton, one large crack across its face. Jinwoo took the opportunity and jumped up to it, ramming the knife straight through its skull until it whined and struggled and collapsed, the smoke ceased and started to dissipate.

Why was his mind so blank?

His soldiers released the other hunters, Jinwoo wanted to delve deeper into the spider’s poison, a gland or two would suffice-

“Iron?”

The dunce brute smashed the deceased spider’s head in, growling and snarling, pummeling it into the ground. What an absolute idiot.

“Iron! You can’t get pissed off every time someone ignores you.”

He looked hurt almost, slouching his shoulders and stomping off to the side, this was usually when Igris would look on with disappointment and a shake of his head as though to scold him.

Where the hell was he?

“Mr Sung!” Jinwoo didn’t ignore the Hunter running over to him, but he kind of did.

When a specific little trinket caught his eye, he knelt down to study it. A gold bangle, smaller than expected, like it could fit a goblin or a small child. For some reason, he was drawn to it. Perhaps it was the way it sparkled under the crystalline glow of the cave, emitting its own light almost, maybe it was the name the system gave it.

Good luck charm.

Simple, not linked to anything except increased luck. Jinwoo could not benefit from it, but he slipped it into his pocket anyway.

“Mr Sung!”

“I’ll need a hand with all this…” Jinwoo summoned Igris and Beru back from wherever they we gallivanting off to. “There you are, you missed one hell of a fight. Carry some of this stuff out, we’ll look through it all properly-”

“Mr Sung, did you breathe any of that poison?!”

Easy man. What’s with all the drama? 

“The smoke, did you breathe any of it in?”

“I guess, but I have a high tolerance to poisons, I’m sure I’ll be fine.” He rummaged through the items again, not bothering to fight the compulsion to find one more trinket before he left the dungeon.

“No, no, no, it’s a targeted amnestic-” He pulled out an old looking sketchbook from the bag covered in some sort of goo that Jinwoo didn’t bother to question. “There’s only ever been one of these types of spiders ever recorded.”

“Okay…”

Jinwoo shot a brief glance at the pages but didn’t ask him about them, he was too engrossed in the pile of trinkets. Another gold bangle, similar in size and weight, however, this one was duller, less prone to absorbing the light. It had more mana attached to it, a complex string of code bound around it.

Its name was Hero’s pride.

Jinwoo tucked it in his pocket like the other one instead of putting it into the system inventory. Safe keeping for something he wasn’t sure about.

“The spider’s poison removes targeted memories, usually fear, but there was one case that it dissolved a hunter's memories of their loved ones. T-This spider is a trickster, a manipulator and won’t engage in a fight unless absolutely necessary.”

“Your point is?”

The hunter shuffled around nervously, fiddling with the pages of the sketch book. “Sir, I study magical beast biology, I’m on the recording team for the association's archives. You saved us just in time to stop our bodies being ingested and most of us have regained our memories through lack of fear when you arrived... But you don’t fear anything, not from what I saw.”

“So?” Jinwoo was getting impatient.

“Mr Sung, You’re getting married, aren’t you? You have twin babies on the way.”

What? No he didn’t. It wasn’t like he could forget something as crucial as a fiancé and not one, but two babies, could he? The thought was entirely preposterous.

“What kind of comment is that? I’m single last time I checked.”

“Oh no…”

Jinwoo turned to Beru who hadn’t moved from the spot he appeared, Igris too. They never even kneeled. “Why are you two moping about?”

“Sire, you have left your mistress without protection!”

Who the hell was this ‘mistress’ ?

The hunter grabbed at his shirt and shook him without care of his S-Rank status. “Listen to me! You have to get out of here and see her before your memories don’t come back! It’s happened once before and that guy had an entire family he never remembered, go now!”

Okay, Jinwoo had no clue what he was talking about, but he had a certain tier of logic applied to his brain. Still, his mouth overtook his brain. “Where do I go?”

“Follow me, I’ll take you to her my lord! We must be swift!”

Beru led a rather confused Jinwoo back through the tunnel with the two bangles in his pocket, Igris followed behind. Once out of the gate, Jinwoo ignored Jin-chul completely and allowed Beru to carry him to the apartment.

“I live here? I thought I was still living back home.” The front door of the apartment had no familiar ring to it, not the colour nor the number. 

Though who was behind it made this entire interaction that much more confusing.

“You're back.” A woman opened the door, smiling and positive.

“It’s you.”

The same woman from his, what should he call them? Visions from inside the cave, fighting that spider.

And you were heavily pregnant.

What the hell?

Part 23 <- Part 24 -> Part 25

Thank you for reading and all of the support on this fic! ❤️ Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated and I appreciate you all! See you next time 🤗

Tag list - @bubera974 @snowy-violet @sky2lar @starrynights23x @kamiliora

@yessirr7 @qmabailor @yihona-san06 @mashiromochi @daiyanomochi

@justatimidcreator @alia-17 @otomegamesforlife @m00n-estelle @towomatos

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@sabrina-senpai @tsukimoon-chan @afkmylajah @livelaughlovekuni @keiva1000

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DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[kapiiiravioli]

Wow, I just realized I haven’t talked about Prince Demon here on Tumblr, so many of you who don’t follow me on Instagram or TikTok probably don’t know much about him...

But don’t worry! Here are some facts about him:

• Prince Demon is a little boy who, at first glance, might look like a sweet, innocent angel... but then you find out he’s playful and mischievous. Like any proper little devil, he loves pranks, mischief, and causing chaos—especially if he doesn’t like you... oh, buddy, get ready. Though with his parents or people he cares about, he shows a much softer and more affectionate side.

• Besides causing mischief, Prince loves singing and, above all, performing. He loves being the center of attention!

• His birthday is October 25th!

• He’s 5 years old (during and after the events of the first game).

• His favorite food is apple pie (especially if Dice is the one who bakes it)🥧🍎

• He deeply loves both of his dads.

His relationship with Lucifer:

Lucifer often plays with him, and although he can be a bit rough or clumsy during playtime, it’s never been a problem. In fact, Prince adores him and looks up to him with deep admiration. He thinks his dad is the best in the world (and after what happened with Cuphead and Mugman, he despises them… especially Cuphead, whom he sees as a rival. He says he’ll “teach him a lesson” one day). Prince insists that when he grows up, he wants to be just like his dad.

😈To Lucifer, Prince is his boy, his champion. He admires his son’s wild imagination, as it reminds him of his own days in Heaven.

His relationship with King Dice:

💜

🎲If Lucifer is the “strong, protective pillar,” Dice is the warm, loving heart. Their relationship is much softer, filled with affection, laughter, and care. Dice is always attentive to Prince’s needs, bakes his favorite desserts, comforts him when he has nightmares, and sings him to sleep.

• Prince tends to be spoiled and pampered by his dads. He knows it… and sometimes uses it to his advantage.

Prince completely trusts him; he sees him as his safe place, his shelter. Whenever he’s sad, confused, or upset, he goes to Dice, because he knows he’ll be heard, understood, and held. Dice has that unconditional love that never fails, and it’s made Prince adore him like no one else.

💜

• Henchman (or Fat Demon) is the one who takes care of him when his parents aren’t around. Prince also considers him his best friend.

Henchman often gives him advice… and sometimes ends up getting roped into Prince’s mischief, helping him out (by the way, the Henchman in the game doesn’t have the same personality as the one in the series).

• As a demon, Prince inherited some abilities from his father, but since he’s still small, he doesn’t really know how to use them… or even how to "activate" them, so to speak.

• His full name is "Prince Demon De-vil", though everyone simply calls him Prince.

• Even though he usually doesn’t wear clothes (except for his little bow), he doesn’t mind putting something on if necessary. Unlike a certain devil…🙄

His relationship with other characters!

Characters Prince is inspired by

[buddieroommatesera]

Please reblog for a larger sample size.

I realized over the last few weeks that we may all have different ways of defining “8b Buddie Canon” and I want to see which option is the one we most agree on, or if there are some we haven’t all thought of.

Also, just because they may not “go canon” for some doesn’t mean that many others will disagree and will celebrate that it did.

Tagging a few friends to spread:

@thatsveryood @leothil @burnthatbridge @sibylsleaves @stagefoureddiediaz @thatbuddie @butchdiaz @buttercupbuck @eddiegettingshot @henswilsons @hattalove @hotshotsxyz @hunybody @clusterbuck @capseycartwright @catdadeddie

[maskedbyghost]

Part 2 of fuck buddies with Simon (now with extra emotional damage)

You didn’t text him, you didn’t call, you didn’t chase.

But you did send one final message.

“This is the last time, Simon. I can’t keep doing this. I don’t want to be someone you only need when you’re lonely or angry or tired. I wanted you, not just your time or your hands or your body. You don’t have to say anything—I’m just letting you know I’m done. Please don’t come back. I won’t open the door.”

Then you blocked him.

Phone, socials, everything. And not in some dramatic, screaming, flinging-plates kind of way.

And for the first few days, nothing happened. No messages, no banging on the door, and no surprise visits in the middle of the night. Just silence.

But on Simon’s end?

Hell broke loose.

He didn’t even notice the message right away. He was halfway through watching a game when he opened his phone and saw it sitting there, timestamped four hours ago. He read it once, then again, and then stared at it like maybe if he glared hard enough, the words would disappear.

But they didn’t.

He tried to reply, of course. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard for longer than he’d admit. But when he hit send, the message didn’t go through.

His jaw clicked tight. Something cold and ugly twisted low in his chest. He tossed his phone onto the couch and paced. He thought about showing up at your place but didn’t. Not yet. Not when he didn’t even know what he was going to say.

It hit him, slowly. That you weren’t bluffing. That you meant it this time.

That he fucked it. Bad...

A month later

You’re sitting across from a guy who actually listens when you talk. He laughs at your jokes, asks you questions. He looks at you like he’s interested—not just in your body, but in your thoughts, opinions, and favorite takeout order.

It’s... weird. Not bad weird. Just different. Good, even.

You're at a quiet restaurant, corner booth, tucked into a little space with candlelight and soft jazz playing overhead. You’re just reaching for your drink when you hear it.

The click of a safety being flipped off, before your date goes still.

“Don’t move,” a voice says, low and dark behind him.

You know that voice.

Your blood runs cold before you even look at him.

Simon stands there, one hand is braced on the back of your date’s chair. The other? Holding a gun pointed directly at the side of the poor guy’s head.

“Simon—what the fuck are you doing?” you hiss, scrambling out of the booth.

“I just wanna talk,” he says, voice way too calm for someone with a loaded weapon in hand.

Your date is sweating, hands raised. “Hey, man, I don’t want any trouble—”

“Did I ask you what you wanted?” Simon snaps. Then he smiles. Smiles. “You’re gonna get up and leave. Right now. No questions. Go.”

The guy doesn’t argue. He bolts so fast he almost trips over a chair.

You stand there, staring at Simon like you’re seeing him for the first time. And in a way, you are.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you ask, shoving him back. “Are you insane?”

“I said I just wanted to talk,” he mutters, sliding into the booth like he didn’t just commit a felony in front of three tables.

“Jesus, Simon. You scared the hell out of him. You scared me. You don’t just pull a gun on someone because you’re feeling jealous!”

“I’m not jealous,” he says, lying through his teeth.

“Get out.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“You don’t get to show up here like this. You don’t get to throw a tantrum just because I moved on. You made it clear how you felt—or didn’t feel. Remember that?”

Simon’s hands are curled into fists on the table. He looks like he’s about to explode. But instead of yelling, he just leans forward, jaw clenched so hard.

“I fucked up,” he says. “I know I did.”

“Yeah,” you say coldly. “You really did.”

-

Aftar that, he doesn’t text you. After all, he is still blocked, so he can't.

So he writes notes. Slips them under your door, even though you never respond.

"I miss you." "I keep thinking about what you said. You're right. I treated you like shit. I don’t know how to fix it, but I want to try." "Still can’t sleep. I keep rolling over expecting you to be there. You're not."

You don’t write back.

Then the gifts start showing up. A bouquet of roses, your favorite. A playlist on a USB drive. A book you mentioned once, two years ago, that he somehow remembered.

He shows up to your building sometimes. Just sits on the steps, waiting, but not in a creepy way—he knows to keep his distance. But he’s there. Rain, cold, whatever. He waits.

One night, you come home late, and he stands when he sees you. “I’ll go if you want,” he says quietly. “Just... let me know you’re okay.”

You don’t say anything. Just unlock the door and go inside.

He doesn’t leave for another hour.

Two months in.

He catches you on your way to work.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” he says, walking beside you like he belongs there. “Just... give me a chance to make it right. Let me earn it.”

You stop walking. Look at him.

He looks rough. The beard’s thicker, the eyes are darker, and the weight of regret sits heavy on his shoulders.

“You can’t fix this with flowers and sad eyes,” you say. “I needed you. And you made me feel like a mistake.”

“I know,” he says, voice cracking. “I know I don’t deserve another shot. But I’m still gonna try. Every day. Until you tell me to stop.”

“And what if I never change my mind?”

“Then I’ll still keep showing up.”

He means it.

You can see it in the way he looks at you now—not hungry, not possessive. Just wrecked. Like he lost something irreplaceable and knows it.

You don’t let him follow you to work.

But for the first time in weeks, you don’t feel as angry. Not because he’s forgiven. Not even close. But because he finally looks like he’s suffering the way you did.

Three months.

You’re out with friends when he shows up again. This time, unarmed thankfully.

You’re tipsy, laughing, leaning into someone else’s shoulder—some other guy’s—and Simon sees it before you do. You turn and there he is, standing just far enough to not make a scene, but close enough to make your heart drop.

You think he’s going to come over. Ruin the night. Scare the guy off again.

He doesn’t.

He just nods at you. One short, respectful tilt of his head. Then he walks away.

No words, nor begging, trying to guilt you into anything.

And that gets to you more than the thousand apologies he could’ve offered.

Four months.

It’s your birthday.

You don’t tell anyone. You keep it lowkey on purpose, like if no one says anything, you can just pretend it’s any other day. You don’t want the reminders. You don’t want the well-meaning texts from people who don’t know what you’ve been dealing with. You definitely don’t want to wonder whether or not Simon remembers.

But he does.

You find out when you get home and there’s a small package sitting at your door. No note. No name. Just your initials written on the wrapping in the handwriting you know better than your own.

You think about throwing it away. You almost do, but curiosity wins, and inside the plain brown paper is a little black box.

You open it and your breath catches.

It’s that necklace you once pointed at in a store window downtown—months ago, maybe even a year. A tiny silver ghost on a chain. You made some stupid joke about how it looked like him: “emotionally unavailable, disappears without warning, weirdly endearing.”

He didn’t laugh at the time. Just rolled his eyes and muttered something like “you’re annoying” under his breath.

You never mentioned it again, but he remembered.

You stare at it for a long time. You don’t cry, don’t smile either. You just sit there on your hallway floor, turning the necklace over in your hands until your legs go numb.

Then you put it back in the box and tuck it in the drawer by your bed.

You don’t wear it, but you decided to keep it.

And the next day, for the first time in months, you catch yourself wondering how he’s doing. Like maybe he’s not just doing this to win, maybe he means it.

Still, you don’t reach out.

Not yet...

Five months.

He finally knocks.

It’s late. Not obscenely so, but enough that you’re in sweats and no bra, and part of you is tempted to pretend you’re not home.

But something in you says open the door.

So you do.

Simon looks like hell. Wet from rain, hair flat to his skull, hands shoved into his jacket like he’s trying to keep himself from reaching for you.

“I wrote it down,” he says, holding out a thick envelope. “Everything I wanted to say. Everything I should’ve said before.”

You stare at it like it might burn you. “Why now?”

His throat bobs. “Because I thought giving you space would be enough. But space doesn’t mean silence. It doesn’t mean I stop showing you I care. I just... I didn’t know how to love you the way you deserved.”

“And now you do?” you ask, arching a brow.

“No,” he says. “But I’m learning. And I’ll keep learning, with or without a second chance.”

You take the envelope. You don’t invite him in. But you do say, “Good night, Simon,” soft and tired.

And he smiles, just barely.

You read the letter that night. You weren’t going to, but you do.

It’s messy. Honest. Full of crossed-out lines and little notes scribbled in the margins. He writes like he talks—short sentences, straight to the point—but you can feel how badly he wants you to understand.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel disposable. That’s not what you are. That’s not what you ever were.”

“I never knew how to show you I gave a fuck. That’s on me.”

“I kept thinking if I didn’t say anything, you wouldn’t expect anything. But you did. And I should’ve met you there.”

“I think about your laugh. I hear it sometimes when I’m dead tired. It makes me hate myself.”

“I’m not asking you to come back. But if you ever do, I swear I’ll never leave you wondering again.”

You fall asleep with the letter in your hands, crumpled a little at the edges.

You don’t message him the next day.

But the next week?

You text one word.

“Coffee?”

PART 3

-----------------------------------------------

do we still hate him guys??

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay

[sparklingchim]

next move; m | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 13.7k

tropes: hockeyplayer!jungkook, richgirlie!oc, college!au, fwb, brother's best friend

rating: 18+

warnings: alcohol consumption, lots of teasing, jk hooking up with someone else 🤢, oc goes a bit insane <3, smoking (ew), angry koo 😠, messy blow job, spit, cum on boobies, gagging, multiple orgasms, cum play, dick slaps on face n pussy, doggy, overstimulation, dirty talk, eating out, hair pulling, mirror sex, doggy, a few spanks, sum butt stuff, oc is addicted to shopping 🫂 (we both need help), pretends to help with uni stuff just to get dick, naughty thoughts abt jk at dinner with friends??, vulnerable oc <3, proud jk <3

summary: pov: you’ve spent so long pushing jungkook away, but now you’re the one trying to pull him back in.

a/n: i hope this feeds ur tummies well ! 😋

masterlist

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

“What is wrong with you?”

These being the first words Taehyung directs at you when you enter the kitchen at 9 in the morning makes you want to claw his eyes out and head back to bed again.

“I’d fight you if I wasn’t sleepy right now,” you mutter as you shove past him to get to the coffee machine.

“No, I’m being for real,” Taehyung says, inspecting you through critical eyes.

“I’m not wearing make-up. Get over it.”

“It’s not that,” he presses. “You’ve been acting strange the past few days.”

He catches you off-guard with that. You can’t think of a lie fast enough to cover up the fact that you’ve been kinda dumped by his best friend and are no longer fuck buddies, hard times, so you blink a few times to keep your composure.

Your brain, struggling to function at this hour, lands on the most groundbreaking response: “Huh?”

“You didn’t want chicken when I asked if I should bring you some yesterday.” Taehyung crosses his arms, leaning against the counter.

“I already ate when you called,” you quickly – maybe too quickly? You don’t know – defend yourself as you watch the coffee stream into your mug.

“Right. Tell me one time – just one – where you’ve turned down chicken.” He raises an eyebrow. “By the way, I still got you some. It’s in the fridge. But I knew something was up, because you never-”

“Wait, really?” you cut him off, perking up. “You got me chicken?”

You rush to the fridge, flinging the door open. There isn’t much in there to begin with, so it’s easy to spot your beloved meal. You grab it and get it ready for the microwave.

Taehyung completely ignores your excitement over the food and continues his questioning.

“You didn’t react when I switched one of your reality tv shows for something else the other day.”

Did he? You don’t even remember that happening.

“You came home after a long day. I was just being a sweet sister,” you deflect, waving him off.

“Point is – I can tell when my baby sister is sad. And I don’t need you to feign indifference for me, because it’s okay not to be okay,” he says, gentle. “And I wish you’d come to me about whatever this is to make you feel better, because, I don’t know, I thought that’s what we’ve been doing as siblings.”

Your heart squeezes.

He just wants to comfort you. Be there for you. And it clearly pains him that you’ve been keeping this from him.

“No, yeah, I know, it’s just.” God, you hate this. Having to lie to him. “It’s honestly not that serious, Tae. I’m just being dramatic about it, you know how I am.” You try to laugh it off, but he doesn’t let it deceive him.

“It’s about a boy, isn’t it?”

You need to tweak your acting skills. And your reactions too, because why did you look away after he asked you that?

“A boy?” You stretch the word out in an exaggerated drag to make his inquisition sound ridiculous. “There’s no boy in my life.”

“If I find out Eunwoo is causing trouble, I’ll-”

“God, no.” You shake your head vehemently. “He’s fine. He’s not doing anything.”

You retrieve the chicken from the microwave and set it next to your coffee. A questionable breakfast choice, but right now, comfort food is comfort food.

“Want some?” you offer, grabbing your chopsticks.

Taehyung sighs deeply, shaking his head. His lips press into a thin line, but there’s no anger – just concern softening his features. “Wanna talk about it?” He pauses, voice dropping lower. “Who do I have to fight?”

Your stupid best friend, who walked out on me because, apparently, he doesn’t like it when I’m with other boys and was so dramatic about it, but I lowkey do understand him because I don’t like seeing him with other girls too but I can’t tell him because I don’t want him to know that I care and maybe everything is my fault but I am sad and upset and I can’t tell you anything about it because you’d hate me for it.

You keep these thoughts to yourself though and bite into a piece of chicken instead.

“Tae, no.”

“To both of my questions?”

“Mhm-hmm,” you answer with your mouth full.

His shoulders slump in defeat.

Placing your chopsticks down, you step forward and wrap your arms around him.

“You’re an amazing brother, Tae,” you mumble against his chest. “And I promise that I’m doing fine. You’d know if I wasn’t. I think I’m just getting my period soon, honestly. I’ve been hating everything and everyone lately.” You squeeze him tight. “But I love you.”

“I love you,” he replies, resting his chin on your head. “You’d come to me if you needed me, right?”

“Of course. I love to annoy you about my problems.”

You feel his chuckle rumble through his chest.

“You’re coming to dinner with us after the game, right?”

You draw you head back slightly, peering up at him.

“Define us.”

Taehyung’s brows knit together.

“Like, everyone.”

You so don’t want to see Jungkook. It’s been a week since he left you confused in your room.

Detangling yourself from Taehyung, you shoot him an unimpressed pout. “I don’t know if I’m in the mood for that many people.”

“I’m not gonna let you lock yourself up in your room, ___,” he says, a slight edge creeping into his voice. “You can bedrot another day.”

He’s right – you probably should socialise a little more. And with so many people around, you might not even notice Jungkook’s presence.

“I’ll come,” you relent defeatedly, picking up your tray with breakfast. “Good luck with the game.” You reach up on your tippy toes to ruffle his hair with your free hand, earning an exasperated groan from him.

~

So, when you thought you could just ignore Jungkook at dinner, you failed to consider one crucial detail – the universe lives to humble you. Because, of course, out of all the empty seats, he had to take the one right next to you. Rookie mistake. Amateur behaviour. A tragic miscalculation on your part.

Now, you’re stuck playing the world’s most intense game of Pretending He Doesn’t Exist, which, unfortunately, is pretty difficult when he’s breathing in your general direction.

“Can you guys believe that I got a C for my essay?” Seokjin announces after chomping down a big piece of meat.

“Was it the one with the ducks?” Jungkook questions.

“Yeah, I was so excited to hand it in ‘cause I had so much fun writing, and then I get a C.” Seokjin tilts his head in remorse. “I was at a Lotte World parking lot when I got the notification, and it felt like someone stole my firstborn. I hope that never happens to me, I don’t think I could go through the emotions a second time. Honestly, not even the bumper cars could distract me after that.”

“Sure you don’t wanna sign up for drama class?” Taehyung teases. “You’d be such an asset to it.”

“I’m so close to doing it.”

“Wait, you wrote an essay about ducks?” you ask.

“Not just about ducks, silly,” Seokjin explains. “I wrote an essay on whether someone would rather fight 100 duck-sized horses or 1 horse-sized duck. You know, deep stuff like answering questions if it is morally better to fight one large opponent or many small ones.”

“What would the world do without you, Jin,” Yoongi chimes in.

“I’d choose one horse-sized duck, I think,” Eunji says, who thankfully sits next to you, so you’re not completely surrounded by people who you dislike (yes, you might’ve forced her to come with you – she wanted to study in the library, but you dragged her here with the promise of showering her with your never-ending love).

“But a duck so big is scary, no?” you ponder, tapping your chopsticks against your mouth as you think.

Listening in on your conversation, Jungkook says, “The horse-sized duck would be easier.”

You frown, turning to him. “That thing would be massive, and it’s a duck. Ducks are unpredictable.”

“Okay, but 100 duck-sized horses would overwhelm you,” he argues. “You’re assuming they’re just gonna stand there like cute little ponies. What if they’re really aggressive? They’d be all over you, biting, kicking. That’s chaotic.”

“How would you manage fighting a huge duck, though? I don’t see that happening,” you scoff.

“I’m not saying it wouldn’t be hard, but at least it’s just one thing to focus on. It’s straightforward.” Jungkook leans back, dragging his gaze over your face before he says, “But of course you’d prefer the more chaotic solution.”

You raise your eyebrows. “What are you on about?”

You’re talking about ducks and horses. Or so you thought.

Jungkook shrugs. “Nothing. I just think your decision is stupid.”

His eyes don’t waver, and you don’t back down either, because what the hell? Jungkook’s picking a fight over nonsense and has the audacity to glare at you like you personally offended him. His brows are drawn tight, frustration evident in the sharpness of his expression.

As you glare back, you can’t stop your brain from taking an unexpected detour to memories in which Jungkook wore a similar expression. On top of you, a little sweaty, cheeks flushed and – oh my god, you feel the heat rush to your cheeks and swiftly turn away.

“You’re annoying,” you mumble under your breath, picking up your chopsticks again.

Where did these thoughts come from? Do you miss him? It’s been one week. You need a distraction.

"See how riveting my essay topic is?” Seokjin chimes in, pointing his chopsticks at the two of you. “A C is criminally underappreciated.”

“I don’t think anyone can get under ___ skin like Jungkook,” Taehyung chuckles, placing more meat onto your plate.

“Oh no, don’t worry, you still take the first place,” you quip.

“Don’t say that too loud. Jungkook’s too competitive.”

“He’s a mini version of you.” You turn to Jungkook when you say it, scrunching your nose to display your dismay.

“There’s nothing mini about Jungkook,” Yoongi interjects.

The boys laugh while Eunji and you choke on your food.

“Okay, gross?” Eunji coughs.

“What? Have you not seen his muscles? He’s a big guy,” Seokjin defends, eyes wide as he studies Jungkook’s physique. “That’s no secret.”

“That’s why Sooyoung wants him again,” Jimin teases with a wicked grin stretching across his face.

“Oh, fuck off.” Jungkook kicks him under the table. “I said we’re not talking about this.”

At the mention of a name that rings a bell but you can't quite place it yet – one Jungkook clearly doesn’t want brought up – you perk up. “Not talking about what?”

It’s silent next to you.

Jungkook tenses, his posture stiff, the only giveaway a rough, forced clearing of his throat.

One game. You miss one game, and apparently, all the drama unfolds without you.

“You should’ve been there, ___,” Jimin drawls, eyes twinkling with mischief. “His ex was practically his personal cheerleader.”

Your brows lift as you turn to Jungkook. “Sooyoung, huh?”

You never got the chance to meet Jungkook’s ex. He was dating her during your senior year of high school, and they broke up while you were still in school.

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t look at you. Instead, he focuses way too hard on his plate, shoving a piece of meat into his mouth like it’s the most interesting thing in the world and then finishing his beer in a few, big sips.

Jimin, on the other hand, is thriving on the attention. “Oh, yeah,” he hums. “Front-row seat. Didn’t take her eyes off him.”

At that, Jungkook kicks him again, harder this time. “Can you not?”

“Oh, come on, man. It was cute.”

You tilt your head, watching Jungkook’s reaction. “And you didn’t like that?”

His eyes finally flick to yours, the slight curve of his mouth betraying him. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it, I just don’t want to talk about it.”

“She waited outside the locker room for him,” Jimin continues.

You hold back a roll of your eyes. You don’t care. You don’t care at all.

“Did she?” Eunji fuels the fire with her excited question.

“She said hi. That’s it,��� Jungkook mutters.

Jimin snorts at Jungkook’s reply. “Man, that’s not what I saw.”

“And you,” Jungkook directs at Jimin. “You were eye fucking her friend the entire time, so don’t act all high and mighty when you could barely keep your hands to yourself.”

“Sue me!” Jimin exclaims. “Yeah, I do think her friend’s hot, lock me up for it. I need her ig handle or something. I wanna see her again.”

“You’re both hopeless,” you comment, nails tapping against your glass.

“Hey, if she’s hot, she’s hot.” Jimin shrugs, grinning from ear to ear. “You can’t blame me for appreciating the view.”

Yoongi gives him a pointed look. “I’m pretty sure you’ve been ‘appreciating’ the view from every girl in the restaurant for the last hour.”

Jimin laughs loudly, clearly unbothered. “Guilty as charged.”

“What else is new?” Eunji asks. “Besides Seokjin thinking being unhinged will get him an A in his philosophy class, Jungkook having an over-attached ex, and Jimin being a total playboy? Anything else exciting happened this week?”

“I bought a blind box today,” you announce. “And got upset because I didn’t get the one I wanted.”

“The sonny angel figures?” Jungkook asks casually – way too casually.

His tone is so easy, so natural, that for a split second, you forget, just like he forgot. You almost answer just as effortlessly, almost fall into the usual rhythm of conversation with him. But then it hits you—the sharp, perfectly timed reminder that you’re pissed at him.

So instead, you hesitate, fingers tightening around your glass. “Yeah,” you say, a little clipped “Those.”

“I say you stop spending so much money for dust-collecting shit,” Tae comments, and you don’t even have the chance to defend yourself, because Seokjin calls him out for his own questionable spending habits.

While they bicker, you giggle at their antics, distracted for a moment. You reach to dip your dumpling into the sauce, but just as your fingers hover above the dish, you brush hands with Jungkook, who was doing the same.

You kick his hand with yours, expecting him to pull back, but he doesn’t budge.

“Do you ever stop being annoying?” you ask.

“Not when the person I’m annoying is you.”

“You gonna be like this all night?” Your hand sinks, touching the table. “I thought you were mad and would want to ignore me,” you say, much quieter now, even though everyone else is too caught up arguing whether Taehyung’s fifa pack spendings are justified.

“Weren’t you trying to do the same?”

Well, yeah. You were trying to ignore him – that was the sole reason why you even came – but you somewhere along the way, you veered off that plan, and now here you are.

“I guess you’re just too pretty for me to ignore.”

Jungkook freezes at that. You use the opportunity to nudge his hand aside and dip your food into the sauce.

“Funny, didn’t seem to be a problem when you were texting that dude next to me the other day.”

Your chewing slows. The words hit exactly where he intended, sharp and precise, a reminder of exactly why he’s pissed in the first place.

The conversation around you carries on, oblivious, but between you and Jungkook, the tension is suffocating.

You pull away completely, shifting in your seat so your legs are angled away from him and into Eunji’s direction.

Ignoring him is easier, less of a headache – and less of a heartache – than acknowledging his existence.

~

Later that night, you drown yourself in reality tv, letting the mindless drama fill the living room and keep your thoughts from wandering to the interactions you had with Jungkook tonight, because you really need a break from that boy.

You and Eunji had left the restaurant before the boys, her excuse being that she wanted to study, and yours being that you’d had done enough socialising for the day and it was time to go back home. Yeah, you do realise that you have a self-destructive tendency to isolate when things get difficult.

So, here you are, curled up on the couch, journaling about feelings and situations and –

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

You freeze, pen hovering above the paper as the sound of the front door code being punched in echoes from outside. The lock clicks, and the door swings open.

A familiar head of dark hair peeks inside first, followed by annoyingly familiar second one.

“You’re still up?” Taehyung asks, shrugging off his jacket and toes off his shoes.

“Tae,” you say slowly, looking at Jungkook. “Why is he here?”

“Figured we’d hang for a bit more. Play some fifa together.”

“You figured?” You turn to Tae with a deadpan expression.

Taehyung shrugs. “He looked sad.”

“I didn’t look sad,” Jungkook mutters, finally stepping inside and shutting the door behind him.

“You looked all emo when everyone got up to leave,” Taehyung says.

“Whatever.” Jungkook rolls his eyes and heads towards the kitchen, like this is his house now.

You exhale through your nose, pressing your fingers to your temple. “Do we look like a halfway house for emotionally constipated men?”

Jungkook’s voice calls out from the kitchen. “I can hear you.”

“Good.”

“Please try and act civil while I go change,” Taehyung pleads, already disappearing down the hallway.

Jungkook emerges a second later, settling onto the couch, a glass of water in his hand. His tatted fingers wrap around it, long and steady, as he takes a sip. You watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs, the way his throat moves, how the tiniest droplet of water escapes before his tongue swipes it away – completely unbothered. Casual. Like he isn’t taking up too much space in your head already.

“Headache from all that beer?” you ask, trying – hoping – that you sound unaffected by whatever it is about him that’s making your stomach flip.

He exhales, tipping his head back against the couch, stretching his neck just enough to make it unfair. The angle sharpens his jaw line.

His gaze flickers to you. “Something like that.”

Jungkook looks at you. Really looks at you.

His eyes drag over your bare legs, stretched out in tiny shorts that are basically just suggestions of clothing. They hesitate on the curve of your thighs, the hem barely covering anything, before sliding up to the delicate strap of your camisole, the curve of your shoulder. His fingers tighten around the glass just enough for you to notice.

You meet his gaze, unblinking.

Jungkook’s fingers twitch.

You smirk, stretching deliberately, arching your back slightly as you reposition yourself.

And then – his eyes flick downward, landing on the open journal beside you.

You don’t think anything of it at first – until his brows furrow slightly, head tilting as he squints.

“Wait,” he mutters, leaning forward. “Did I just see my name in there?”

Your stomach drops.

Panic sets in at lightning speed.

You slam the journal shut so fast it’s borderline violent.

“Mind your business.”

Jungkook blinks, then grins, slow and smug. Oh, you hate him.

“There is literally nothing for you to see.”

“Oh, but there was something,” he muses, stretching an arm along the back of the couch like he isn’t about to drive you insane. “You wrote about me?”

You cross your arms. “What if I did?”

“Depends,” he says, just momentarily allowing his gaze to drop to your chest. “What exactly are you writing about me?”

Jungkook’s smirk deepens, eyes flicking between you and the journal.

“You’re acting awfully guilty right now,” he taunts, shifting slightly, his thigh pressing against yours.

“Because you’re being nosey.”

“No, because you’re hiding something.”

You roll your eyes, gripping the journal tighter. “You’re not that interesting.”

He hums, tilting his head. “Then lemme see.”

“Absolutely not.”

It happens so fast you barely have time to react. One second, Jungkook is sitting there, all relaxed and smug. The next, he’s lunging forward, reaching for the journal with one hand, the other bracing against the couch to trap you in place.

“Jungkook—stop!” you shriek, twisting away, holding the journal out of his reach.

But he’s relentless.

He shifts closer, practically caging you in, his body warm and solid against yours. His arm brushes your bare thigh as he reaches again, fingers grazing the cover. You twist further, laughing, but the movement only makes things worse—your back presses into the cushions, and suddenly, he’s right there, hovering over you, weight balanced between his knees and one hand pressed into the couch beside your head.

The laughter dies in your throat.

Because now it’s just you and him, tangled up, breathing the same air. His face is inches from yours, the heat of his body seeping into your skin, the scent of his cologne mixed with something distinctly him. His gaze flickers downward – just for a second – but it’s enough. Enough for you to feel the shift. Enough for the teasing to suddenly feel like something else entirely.

Jungkook swallows.

Your heart is in your throat.

His gaze drops to your lips.

You freeze.

His fingers tighten slightly where they rest near your hip. The journal is still caught between you, forgotten, and for the first time, neither of you moves to break the moment.

Until –

A door creaks open down the hallway.

You both jerk back at the same time.

Jungkook moves first, clearing his throat as he drops back onto the couch, running a hand through his hair like that’ll somehow erase the past ten seconds. You sit up just as Taehyung strolls back in, glancing between the two of you with mild suspicion.

“Did you guys kill each other yet?”

“Nearly,” you retort, fixing your hair.

Tae grabs two controllers and plops onto the couch next to Jungkook. “Why’d you scream?”

“Your idiot of a best friend is obsessed with me and tried to sneak a peek into my journal,” you huff, dramatically clutching said journal to your chest.

“Oh, boy,” Tae clicks his tongue. “She’s serious about this thing, Jk. Wouldn’t advise you to –” he waves a hand vaguely, “–poke the bear.”

Jungkook looks like he is actually considering telling Tae what he saw in your beloved journal. His lips party slightly, brows furrowing, before he shakes the thought off. Good for him. You wouldn’t even know where to begin explaining why Jungkook’s name is written in there.

Taehyung hands one of the controllers to Jungkook.

“Is this my cue to turn off my show?” you ask, lips forming a natural pout of disappointment.

“Sorry, spontaneous boys' night,” Tae says with a shrug.

“Please never say that again.”

Jungkook snorts, finally looking at you.

You raise a brow. Challenge him silently.

He just grins, popping his dimples, rolling his shoulders back like he has the upper hand.

God, you hate him.

You stay in the living room while they game – despite considering retreating to your room multiple times when Jungkook and Tae started yelling at each like an old married couple.

But you quickly realise how fun it is to mess with Jungkook, especially when he gets roasted for his lack of skills by an oblivious Taehyung. Which, judging by the way Jungkook’s jaw keeps ticking and his grip on the controller tightens, is absolutely getting to him.

“Want more snacks?” you ask sweetly as you rise to your feet, collecting the empty bowls. One slips from your grasp, landing on the carpet. You bend over to grab it, in front of Jungkook, and maybe, just maybe, you move slower than necessary. Maybe shifting your hips a little too much. Maybe giving him a view he definitely does not deserve.

Tae, completely unbothered, waves you off like a fly buzzing around his screen. “___, get out of the way,” he complains impatiently, fingers rapidly clicking on his controller. “But I’ll have some more chips, thanks.”

Jungkook, however, isn’t saying shit.

You glance over your shoulder, just in time to catch the flicker of his eyes meeting yours before he collects himself and redirects his attention back to the game.

“You good, Jungkook?” you ask innocently.

His nostrils flare. Through gritted teeth, he mutters, “Just move.”

So you do, slow and smug, your shorts sliding back over your thighs as you pad toward the kitchen.

Right as you’re reaching for the drawer, you hear Taehyung ask, “What are you gonna do about that Sooyoung girl?” Your movements slow. “You interested?”

The nosiness and urge to gossip definitely runs through your genes.

“Nah, I don’t want her back.”

When you glance back, Jungkook’s still focused on the game, but there’s something absent in the way he’s holding the controller – like he’s playing on autopilot.

“That bad, huh?”

“Just wasn’t that deep.”

You busy yourself with the drawer, fingertips grazing over the handle as you bite back the urge to comment. Just listen.

“You never really said why you two broke up.”

“No, I did tell you,” Jungkook says, easy but firm. “You just never believed me.”

“That’s because it always felt like there was more.”

“There wasn’t. We just didn’t fit.”

Didn’t fit how?

You open the drawer and grab more snacks.

“Yeah...I don’t know. You never seemed truly happy with her.”

Jungkook exhales sharply through his nose. "I wasn’t miserable," he finally says.

“You weren’t happy either.”

“I don’t know. Maybe I stayed with Sooyoung because it was easy. No drama. No real emotions involved.”

With the snacks in tow, you walk back to the living room. “That sounds really sad, Jaykay,” you say, not trying to hide that you’ve been listening to them.

He shrugs. “Maybe. But at least it didn’t mess with my head.” His gaze lingers on you. “Didn’t make me feel like I was losing my mind.”

“Fuck, no, if someone makes you feel that way – leave, immediately,” Taehyung says.

You grab a bag of chips, tearing it open as you lean against the side of the couch. “You guys done being dramatic yet?”

Taehyung glances over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes. “You’re still here?”

“I live here.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately?” you repat. “You were the one who happily agreed when mum and dad suggested that I move in with you. I wanted my own place!”

“Oh no, the princess didn’t get what she wanted. How dare they?” Jungkook mocks you.

You faintly remember the discussion of moving into an even bigger place, where all three of you would live together, but Jungkook denied that idea back then, saying the dorm that his athletic scholarship is providing him is good enough for him.

You scoff, shoving his shoulder as you pop another chip into your mouth. “Okay, first of all, you don’t get a say in this. Second of all, I’m not a princess.”

Jungkook tilts his head, a smirk playing on his lips. “Sure you aren’t.”

Taehyung snorts, eyes still glued to the screen. “You literally whined for two weeks straight about not having enough closet space.”

“That was a valid complaint,” you argue. “You take up, like, half of it with your stupid jerseys.”

“They’re collectibles.”

“They’re ugly.”

Jungkook laughs, finally leaning back into the couch, looking far too amused. “I see living together is going great for you two.”

“Oh, it’s fantastic,” Taehyung deadpans. “Every day is a blessing.”

“You’re so dramatic,” you mutter, but you can’t help the way your lips twitch. “I liked this conversation more when you gossiped about Jungkook’s life.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, then jerks his chin toward Jungkook. “Dude, hurry up and lose so we can switch games.”

Jungkook, who has barely been playing at all, huffs. “I’m not gonna lose on purpose.”

“You’re already playing like shit,” Taehyung points out. “What’s up with you? Did Sooyoung get into your head or what?”

“Quit mentioning her,” Jungkook grumbles, jaw tightening.

Sooyoung?

No, that is not who is on is mind.

Why would he be thinking about her when – okay, you need to calm down. It’s not that serious.

You just need to call it a night, crawl into bed, and sleep it off.

“Heading to bed,” you announce, grabbing your journal from the coffee table.

“Alright, sleep tight,” Taehyung replies.

“Night, princess.” You flick the back of Jungkook’s head for that.

~

“Okay, very out of character for me, but we need to stop drinking for a sec and you need to tell me why the hell you keep looking back at Jungkook?” Eunji asks you all of a sudden, voice barely carrying over the muffled bass shaking the walls of the packed frat house.

The kitchen is one of the only semi-breathable spaces in the frat house, though the counters are a war zone of spilled liquor, sticky cups, and questionably abandoned drinks. The air reeks of cheap booze and sweat, but none of that is stopping Eunji from interrogating you.

You blink perplexed. “Out of character for you?” you ask back, eyeing the way she pulls back the cup you were just mixing a drink in. “I think that is very true to your character – very you. I’d be out of character for me to stop us from drinking.” You snatch back your cup.

“Did I say that?” She’s lost in her mind for a moment. “I don’t even remember. Am I that drunk already? I don’t wanna wake up hungover tomorrow.” She laments. “I still got this assignment due, and I wanted to get most of it done tomorrow, but – oh my god. Do not distract me from the question I just asked you.” She stares at you with sharp eyes. “Why do you keep looking back at Jungkook?”

“Am I?”

She huffs. “You don’t get to play this game with me, ___.” She pokes your tummy. “Answer me.”

You fully turn to her, abandoning the cup with the godawful alcohol mix – yes, it’s your creation, no, you’ve never had any talent for mixing drinks.

“I might have to tell you something.”

Her eyes widen. Immediately. Mouth opening in an unbelievable expression of pure, unfiltered drama. One that belongs in a reality show confession booth.

“Shut up. You did not – did you? Oh my god, shut up!”

“We might have hooked up for, like, a good few months.”

Her palm flies to cover her mouth. “Behind Taehyung’s back?” she whisper shouts.

“Well, obviously.” You point to yourself. “You think I’d be alive if he knew? You think he’d be alive if Tae knew?”

“You whore!”

“For Jungkook? Kinda,” you admit defeatedly.

You take a glimpse into his direction. Eunji shoves you on the shoulder for that.

“Don’t make it obvious!” she exclaims. “But you need to tell me everything. Right now.”

You sigh, leaning against the counter.

“The first time we hooked up was before I enrolled in uni. It was the summer before when Tae and Jungkook spontaneously visited and-“

“Okay, I need you to stop,” Eunji interrupts, fingers massaging her temples. “The summer before uni?” she repeats, exasperated. “You’ve been keeping it a secret since summer? I need more booze before you continue.”

“I’m sorry for not telling you, but we didn’t want anyone to know. He’d be pissed if he knew I told you.”

“No, don’t be sorry. I get it, I really do. I just didn’t expect this at all.” After pouring something inside her cup, she takes big gulps from it.

“I mean, what was I supposed to do? He’s hot, he’s pretty, and I’ve had a crush on him since, like, forever. I had to give in when he showed interest. What’s a girl gonna do?”

“How have you been able to keep it from Taehyung? They’re with each other 24/7.”

“He comes over when I know Tae’s gonna be out for a while. Or the other way around,” you reply, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “You can make anything work if you really want to, and I really wanted Jungkook.”

Still do, if you’re being honest.

You pause, then wave it off dramatically. “But that’s ancient history. We’re totally over that weird situationship.”

“What?!” Another shocked gasp escapes her. “Why?!”

“I don’t even know, to be honest. He just – we fucked, and then he...I dunno.” You grab your cup and down the rest of your drink, grimacing at the taste of whatever you concocted. “He got mad at me for texting Eunwoo after we had sex. I didn't even think he’d be all sensitive about it, especially since, you know, he’s with other girls too. But he got so pissed and we argued. And guess what?!” You throw your arms out, face dramatically incredulous. “He just leaves me in bed! Like, straight up walks out, saying stupid shit like I sleep around and only text him when I’m bored. Acting like we’re some exclusive thing, which we’re not! How dare he get so upset?” you argue theatrically, voice rising in pitch. “I’ve got better shit to do than this,” you mimic in Jungkook’s deep voice, eyes rolling for extra effect. “He’s so annoying.”

Eunji scrutinizes you for a brief moment before coming to her conclusion.

“Oh, he wants you bad.”

“Huh?” Your brows furrow. “He left me.”

“Because he wants you two to be exclusive and you don't. Why should he stay?”

Why should he stay?

You stare at Eunji, her words settling over you like an unwanted truth.

“He did ask me to be exclusive before,” you admit, twirling the empty cup in your hands. “But I always thought it would be a bad idea. Because being exclusive is so much more serious, and I want to be anything but serious with him. We don’t work that way. I can’t have that happening and risking Tae finding out. It would ruin everything.”

Eunji gives you a long, unimpressed look. “But being exclusive friends with benefits doesn’t have to mean more. It could just stay that way. Why do you always make things complicated?”

You huff, frustration bubbling up. “I don’t know.” You drop your forehead against her shoulder.

She pats your back like you’re a lost puppy.

“You’re and idiot, babe.”

“I know.”

“You also like him.”

You groan into her shoulder. “Shut up.”

“Just saying,” she singsongs.

It’s only now that you realise just how much you needed this – to talk to someone. To get all these tangled thoughts out of your head instead of letting them fester in silence. You’ve spent so much time convincing yourself that none of it mattered, brushing it off like it was nothing, but saying it out loud makes it real. And weirdly, that feels... good. Cathartic, even. Like exhaling after holding your breath for too long.

“Do you think I should-“ You start to lift your head, but Eunji pushes you back down with a firm hand.

“Everything will be fine, ___,” she babbles, patting your head a little too aggressively. “Just, you know, don’t be too sad.”

“What are you on about?”

“Just stay here for a sec.”

“Eunji.” You force yourself out of her grasp.

She’s looking somewhere past you, eyes flickering toward the living room, but when she realizes you’ve caught on, she quickly averts her gaze. Too quickly. Suspiciously.

You turn around, scanning the area to find what she doesn’t want you to see.

Your tummy churns in an instant when you see it.

Jungkook.

Heading up the stairs.

With Nayeon.

Even in the hazy lighting of the party, he stands out – broad shoulders wrapped in a dark, well-fitted tee, his silver chain glinting against his collarbone. He moves effortlessly, the easy confidence in his stride something you know all too well. His hand rests low on Nayeon’s back, fingertips grazing the thin fabric of her dress as she leans into him, whispering something into his ear.

Your throat tightens.

Eunji shifts beside you, watching your reaction carefully. “Hey, maybe it’s not-“

“I’m gonna throw up.”

The words leave your mouth before you can even think. You grab Eunji’s cup and down the last of her drink, but the alcohol does nothing to wash away the bitter taste in your mouth.

Your eyes scan the room frantically. “Wasn’t Eunwoo somewhere here too?” You rise onto your toes, searching the sea of bodies. “I think I just need to get my mind off things.”

“Oh, no, no, no, no,” Eunji immediately cuts in, grabbing your wrist before you can make any rash decisions. “We are not doing this.”

“Doing what?”

She levels you with a look. “You are not about to make a dumbass decision just to get back at Jungkook. Not on my watch.”

“I really, really hate him right now.”

“I know,” she soothes. “But no petty comebacks for situations where we absolutely do not need to make fools of ourselves, yeah?”

Your brain is screaming at you to make Jungkook feel just as shitty as you do, to do something reckless and distracting, but deep down, you know Eunji’s right.

You steal another glance at the staircase. They’re gone.

The realization sinks in, and suddenly, the air in the frat house feels suffocating. The bass of the music thrums in your chest, the chatter around you blurring into an overwhelming hum.

“I need air,” you mutter, pushing past Eunji before she can stop you.

She sighs but doesn’t follow. She knows you need a moment alone.

You slip through the crowd, weaving your way toward the back door. The night air hits you instantly, cool against your heated skin, but it does little to settle the storm raging in your chest.

Leaning against the railing of the porch, you inhale deeply, forcing your nerves to settle.

This is fine.

~

“Can you promise you won’t puke on me?”

“I mean, I can, but I don’t know if I can keep the promise.”

You spotted Chanyeol with another guy—Jackson, you think—smoking and went over to chat with them. It wasn’t until they finished their joint that curiosity got the best of you. One thing led to another, and Jackson went inside to roll you one. Now, all three of you are standing outside, two pairs of curious eyes fixed on you.

“She’ll be fine,” Jackson says as he exhales a slow stream of smoke, watching it curl into the night air.

Chanyeol eyes you warily as he sparks up your joint. “I don’t know how much you drank tonight, but please tell me if you feel sick.” He holds it out for you.

You hesitate for half a second before taking it between your fingers. It feels weird, unnatural. “So I just…?”

“Inhale, but not too hard. Hold it for a second, then let it out,” Chanyeol instructs.

You follow his guidance, pulling in a slow drag. The taste is harsher than you expected, earthy and a little burnt, making you cough almost instantly.

“Classic first hit,” Jackson says, but it’s not as reassuring as he thinks. “Give it a sec.”

“How do you feel?” Chanyeol asks, watching you closely.

“Feels very icky,” you tell him, nose scrunched up. “But I’m feeling okay.”

“Yo, Jackson!” some dude yells from the back. Jackson disappears, leaving Chanyeol and you alone.

“You sure you’re fine?”

The night air feels heavier now, the music from inside muffled like you’re hearing it through a wall. Your fingers tingle slightly, warmth spreading through your limbs. You shift on your feet, suddenly hyper-aware of the way your body moves.

You blink at him. “I think my brain is moving slower than my body.”

He laughs. “Yeah, that happens. Just ride it out.”

You exhale, watching the smoke swirl in front of you.

“The fuck?”

Your head snaps toward the voice.

Jungkook stands a few feet away, brows furrowed, looking like he just walked into some kind of crime scene. His eyes flick between you and the joint in your fingers, then to Chanyeol, before settling back on you.

For some reason, your eyes wander to his hands. He’s probably touched so many things tonight, so many body parts. Did he wash them?

“The hell you’re doing?” Jungkook asks, walking towards you.

“Uhm, having fun?” you try, watching his frown deepen.

“This is not something you do, ___.” Jungkook directs his glare at Chanyeol. “Why the fuck would you give this to her?”

“Fuck, Jungkook, if you wanna be angry be angry elsewhere,” Chanyeol says, rolling his eyes.

“You fuck off,” Jungkook counters.

“As if you have never smoked.” Chanyeol raises his brows.

“I don’t smoke.”

“Trying to maintain a squeaky-clean image for those scouts who might be watching?”

“Mind your fucking business.”

“Jungkook, you’re being rude.” You turn to him, pointing a finger at his broad chest. “You’ve been going around, having fun yourself but can’t let other people have fun. That’s not nice of you.”

You stare up at him, a sullen pout on your mouth before pulling another slow drag and trying hard to not cough, but a small cough slips out anyway.

“Get that shit away, ___,” Jungkook demands, unimpressed by the smoke surrounding his face.

“Why do you care? Lemme have fun.”

“This shit fucks with your head.”

My brain’s already fucked, you think. Thanks a lot.

“It’s just weed?”

“Taehyung will lose his mind.”

“Is Tae with us now?”

Jungkook arches his brow.

“Oh, you wouldn’t.”

“Stop right now or I’ll call him.”

You hold his gaze, daring him. “You’re bluffing.”

Jungkook pulls his phone out of his pocket without hesitation, thumb hovering over the screen. “Try me.”

You wait, staring at Jungkook’s screen until he actually calls Taehyung.

Before the call can connect, you groan and shove the joint into Chanyeol’s hand. “God, fine, I’m done.”

He hangs up before Taehyung can answer.

You glare at him, but he only tilts his head toward the house. “Let’s get you some water.”

He guides you towards the house with his hand splayed across your side. At first, you shy away from his touch, mind racing with thoughts you’d rather not acknowledge. But as the night air presses cool against your skin, you let yourself relax, leaning into him slightly as you walk up the stairs.

“You’re so mean, you know that?” you huff.

“I’m just looking out for you,” he replies, in a softer tone than before.

“You didn’t have to be mean with Chanyeol. It wasn’t his weed. Chanyeol was actually very kind, made sure I was feeling okay-“

Jungkook stops at the threshold of the house.

“I’m gonna have a little chat with Jackson.”

“How do you know-“

His hand slips from your waist. He turns, leaving you standing on the porch, and disappears in the crowd.

Because that’s just easy for him – leaving you.

Why should he stay?

You don’t care.

You don’t care.

And if you keep telling yourself that, maybe – just maybe – you’ll start to believe it.

~

Flash forward a week, and you can now say –proudly, with your full chest – that you do care.

You’ve never not cared. Pretended? Yes. But gotten over it? Not even close.

Which is why it’s not surprising that you find yourself at yet another party, drink in hand, scanning the room without meaning to. Or maybe you do mean to. Maybe you want to see him. Maybe you want him to see you. Maybe you want him to know that he didn’t get to you. Even though he did.

You’re sunk into the couch, surrounded by your friend group, half-listening as they go on about today’s hockey practice – boy gossip, oh how you love it.

“Coach told him he’s probably getting benched next game,” Jimin says, shaking his head as he leans back against the couch. “Too many penalties last match. Dumbass just keeps throwing hits for no reason.”

“That’s what happens when you let your ego get ahead of you,” Jin chimes in, stretching his legs out. “Coach is tired of his shit. And honestly? Fair.”

“I heard he almost fought Yoongi in the locker room,” Taehyung adds, arching a brow as he takes a sip of his drink. “Over something stupid too, like warm-up drills.”

“Swear to God, that guy needs to chill,” Jimin scoffs. “He’s got all the talent, but he plays like he’s trying to prove something every damn game.”

When Taehyung gets up to grab himself another drink, you catch him by the sleeve.

“Can you get me one too, please?” You hand him your empty cup.

Taehyung eyes the cup. “You’ve been drinking a bit more lately.”

“It’s just my second drink?”

His sharp eyes linger on you for a moment before he reluctantly takes your cup and walks off. He hasn’t missed the shift in your behaviour these past few weeks. You try to hide it, but there’s only so much you can do.

“Could say the same thing about Jungkook, though,” Jin says.

Jin’s words linger in the air, but you don’t dare react.

“Jungkook’s always been like that,” Jimin says, tipping his drink back. “Plays like he’s got something to prove, but I guess he kinda does. He wants to go pro, so it’s not like he can afford to slack off.”

It’s stupid, silly even, how easily his name can unravel you. How even when he’s not here, he’s everywhere.

“Isn’t your dad gonna come to the next game?” Jimin directs at you.

You shrug. “Maybe? I dunno.”

Given that your dad is an NHL executive, former team owner, he tries to find time in his busy schedule to attend the hockey games. The boys probably see him more than you do.

“Where is Jungkook anyway?” Hobi asks. “Is he gonna come over at all?”

Dear god, you hope, pray, he won’t.

You can’t live through seeing him disappear with another girl upstairs. You don’t have Eunji with you today to keep you from doing reckless decisions.

“He’d be all over Nayeon anyway. Doubt he’d even remember we exist,” Jin chuckles, unknowingly ruining the rest of your night.

The sound of their laughter grates against your nerves. The more you sit here, the more unbearable it becomes. The thought of him, of her, of what they could be doing, poisons your mind until you can’t take it anymore.

Taehyung returns, pressing a fresh drink into your hand. He barely gets a word in before his gaze sharpens. “You okay?”

You nod stiffly. “Yeah.”

“Liar.”

His voice is quiet enough that no one else hears, but it makes your stomach flip. He knows you too well. And if you sit here any longer, he’s going to drag the truth out of you, whether you like it or not.

So you stand abruptly, mumbling something about fresh air before slipping through the crowd, out into the cool night. The moment you’re alone, you let out a breath, pressing your fingers to your temples. It doesn’t help. Nothing does.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you pull out your phone, scroll down to the name you should ignore, and press call.

Jungkook answers on the second ring.

“Did you call me on accident?”

You ignore his question, your fingers tightening around your phone as you shift your weight from one foot to the other. Instead, you ask, “Are you gonna come to the party?”

“No, I have some assignments to do,” he answers, hesitantly. “Why’d you ask?”

“Are you sure?” Your eyes close, waiting for the confirmation that you won’t have to see things (Jungkook and a girl that isn’t you) that you don’t want to see (him hooking up with someone that isn’t you).

“Yeah, positive.” There’s a pause, and then he adds, “Is there something you don’t want me to see? Or—wait, are you just making sure I won’t be around to ruin your night?” Jungkook laughs and you realise how you’ve missed that sound. “It’s your lucky day. You won’t see my face poking around in the crowd. You can have fun.”

You frown at the nonsense he’s saying. He couldn’t be more off.

“No, you don’t get it.”

“What am I not getting?”

You stare into the night sky, the stars blurred by the city lights. You consider hanging up, letting the moment pass, but then you remember what Eunji told you. Talk to him. Get the discomfort out of the way.

“You know I’m not an insecure person.” You cross one arm over your body, rubbing your bare skin against the rising cold. “Like, I’m confident in who I am. I don’t compare myself to others because, y’know, I don’t care enough about stuff like that.”

“Yeah, of course I know that. You’re a confident girl. Have always been.”

“But you know what makes me go crazy?”

“What?”

“Seeing you with someone else.” The words slip out before you can catch them, but now that they’re out in the open, you can’t take them back. You don’t want to. Or – I dunno if it’s just that. I want you to want me. And you don’t. Which I get, I’ve been a bit shitty, so you deserve to want someone that isn’t like me, but – it just makes me go a bit insane, because I thought you did want me again the other night. At my place.” Your voice drops on the last sentence, barely above a whisper. “But then I see you with Nayeon and you just don’t care.”

You take a break, trying to organise your thoughts, but it’s fruitless because it’s just a tangled mess up there.

“Eunji said to talk with you but still give us a bit time, but oh my god I just want it to be okay between us again. I’m feeling so confused, and I don’t even really know what’s going on, but all I know is that I want things to be like before. When you still wanted me, and I wanted you and everything was good, easy,” you say, exhaling a helpless breath. “Do you think that’s possible?”

It’s silent for a beat. You don’t blame him – you couldn’t recite half the stuff that just poured out of your mouth.

“Fuck, ___.” He sounds a bit helpless himself.

Jungkook sighs on the other end, and you hear the faint rustle of fabric, like he’s shifting, maybe running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what to say to that,” he finally admits.

“Say anything,” you murmur.

“What do you want me to do, ___?” His voice is quieter now, more controlled, but there’s something simmering beneath the surface. “Stop seeing other people? Pretend like none of this ever happened? Or do you just want me to tell you that, yeah, I still want you?”

Your breath hitches. “Do you?”

“I thought I made that obvious,” he mutters. “But every time I think we’re on the same page, you pull away and act difficult. So, forgive me if I stopped trying to figure you out.”

“I don’t mean to act difficult.”

“Then why do you?”

You don’t have an answer. Or maybe you do, but you’re scared to say it.

Jungkook waits, but when you don’t respond, he lets out a dry laugh. “You know what’s funny? I wasn’t even gonna go to the party tonight. But now I kinda want to.”

“Why?”

“Maybe I wanna see what happens when you have to look me in the eyes.” His voice is lower now, rougher. “Because talking like this? It’s too easy for you.”

“No, don’t come.” You think of the worst-case scenario – arguing with Jungkook, him getting frustrated, turning to Nayeon because she’s easier, likes her more than you. And you couldn’t stand seeing that.

“Or maybe do, if you want,” you add, voice quieter. “I think I’m gonna leave anyway. Wanna go home.” Avoiding situations – your strong suit.

“How much have you had to drink?”

You stare at the untouched drink in your hand before lifting it to your lips. The sweetness hits first, masking the barely-there burn of alcohol (thanks, Tae). “Starting my third drink now.”

“I can walk you home,” he offers.

“It’s not a long walk to my place. You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” A rustle of movement on the other end before he adds, “On my way right now.”

“I’ll wait at the front for you.”

You weave your way back inside the house to find Taehyung, who’s still in the living room chatting with one of his teammates.

“Gonna go home, Tae,” you say, your voice cutting through their conversation. He glances up, distracted for a moment, before raising an eyebrow. “Also, here–” You hand him the drink he made for you. “This is not fun to drink at all.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes at your sassy comment but takes the cup from your hand. “Learn how to enjoy a party without getting drunk.”

“You tell me to get out of my room more, and when I do, this is what you say? Pick a side,” you grumble.

“Why do you wanna go home?” His fingers adjust the top of your strapless dress absentmindedly as he asks. “You okay?”

“Eh, just a bit bored.”

“We’re gonna play truth or dare in a bit,” Taehyung’s friend pipes up, raising his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner. “Maybe you should stick around.”

“I think I’ll skip,” you say. “But please do me a favour and fill me in on all the drama I’ll be missing out on.”

He winks at you. “Will do.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Taehyung says, stepping towards you.

You know he won’t allow you to go home by yourself, so you opt for telling him the truth. “Jungkook’s coming to take me home.”

“Jungkook?” he asks, surprised. “Did you call him?”

“Yeah, I asked him. Didn’t wanna annoy you. Go have fun doing...” You glance over at Jimin and Hobi, who are holding an impromptu drinking competition. Hobi’s attempting to chug straight from a bottle of something clearly too strong for him, while Jimin’s pretending to be the host of a weird, offbeat game show. “...whatever that is,” you finish, trying to hold back a laugh.

“You really can’t leave those two alone for a second, can you?” Taehyung lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Tell Jungkook to swing by here once he drops you off.”

“He didn’t sound like he was in the mood to stop by, but I'll tell him.”

“Text me when you get home, yeah?” he says over his shoulder, already walking back toward Jimin and a very much unconscious Hobi, who’s sprawled out on the couch looking like he’s had one too many rounds.

~

Jungkook finds you almost immediately. You barely have time to register his presence before he’s already slipping his zip hoodie over your shoulders, his hands smoothing over the fabric like he’s tucking you in for the night.

“You should’ve waited inside,” he mutters, fingers lingering at the collar like he’s seriously considering zipping it up for you too.

You swat his hands away, glancing around quickly. “Jungkook, don’t – everyone’s watching.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Who’s watching?”

You look over your shoulder. “I dunno. People.”

Jungkook huffs a laugh, stepping closer. “Right. Because me making sure you don’t freeze to death is so scandalous,” he jokes. “But smoking weed the other day was okay to do outside? With all the people there?”

“As a friend you’re supposed to forget my mess-ups, not remind me of them.” You huff, faintly remembering when you tried weed for the first time. You did puke that night. Luckily not on Chanyeol. “You didn’t have to come,” you grumble, even as you tug the hoodie tighter around yourself, his warmth and the faint scent of his detergent wrapping around you like a second skin.

“I know,” he says, tilting his head. “But I wanted to.”

And then, because he’s annoying, he reaches up and tugs the hood over your head, effectively swallowing half your face in fabric.

You let out a muffled noise of protest, pushing it back down immediately. “Stop that.”

Jungkook just grins, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he starts walking. “You look cute like that, though.”

You glare at him but fall into step beside him anyway, the hoodie still draped around you like it belongs there. The night air nips at your skin, but his warmth lingers, and you swear he notices the way you pull the sleeves over your hands like it’s yours.

“So…” His voice is quieter now. “What you said on the phone earlier.”

Your stomach twists. “What about it?”

“I just—” He starts, then pauses. “I don’t know what you want from me, ___. One second, you’re pushing me away, and the next, you’re telling me you can’t stand seeing me with someone else. You –” He falters, his voice catching slightly. “Do you even know what you want?”

“I know that you ruined me for other boys, for one,” you say, sighing deeply before you continue. “I want things to be like before,” you reply. “When everything wasn’t so…” You gesture vaguely. “Complicated. I don’t like this. And I don’t like how I feel when I see you with –” You cut yourself off before the name can leave your lips. He knows anyway.

Jungkook watches you carefully, hands still stuffed into his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched. “I wasn’t trying to rub anything in your face,” he says after a pause. “I didn’t think it’d… affect you.”

“Well, it did,” you say, a little too fast, a little too defensive. “And I hate that it did, because it’s not like I have a right to be mad about it.”

Jungkook tilts his head. “Don’t you?”

That stops you in your tracks.

Because – do you? You don’t know what this is, don’t know what you want from him except for more. More of his attention, more of his time, more of him. But not all of him, right? Because that would mean–

“God,” you mumble, rubbing your hands down your face. “Why are you making me say things?”

Jungkook chuckles, nudging your side. “You called me, remember?”

You groan. “Worst decision I’ve ever made.”

“Harsh.”

“Accurate.”

Jungkook lets out a short laugh, but then he’s quiet for a beat before he says, “Look, I don’t wanna play games. If you want me, then say it.”

You swallow. “I do.”

“But we don’t want each other like that,” he adds.

“Yeah, no.” You chew on your lip, pulling his hoodie tighter around yourself. “I just… don’t want to see you with other people. And I don’t want to pretend that it doesn’t bother me.”

“I don’t wanna see you with anyone else either.” Jungkook exhales, running a hand through his hair. “You want to keep fucking but be exclusive.”

You wince. “Could you not say it like that?”

“What, say it like the truth?”

You purse your lips, staring at him. “Is it a no?”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything for a second. Then, he sighs. “It’s not a no. I’ve been asking you for this, and you always pushed me away.”

“You know am not good with serious conversations. I like it when things are easy.” You cross your arms, trying to shield yourself, but your eyes can’t help but flicker towards him. “I don’t mean to push you away,” you admit. “I just– I get scared.”

His lips part slightly, like he wasn’t expecting that. And then – without a word – he reaches out, pulling the hoodie up so the zipper meets your chin, like he’s tucking you in.

Your heart trips over itself. “What are you doing?”

He grins, hands still lingering near your collar. “Making sure you don’t run away before you finish talking.”

“I wouldn’t run,” you protest.

Jungkook raises a brow.

“…Okay, maybe I would,” you mutter.

His grin softens into something fonder. “Well, you didn’t,” he says simply. “You’re talking to me now.” His thumb brushes over the fabric near your shoulder. “And I know that’s not easy for you.”

Your face grows hot. You roll your eyes, looking away. “Okay, don’t be nice about it.”

Jungkook laughs, bumping your forehead lightly with his. “Sorry, can’t help it. I’m proud of you.”

Your stomach flips. You shove at his chest. “Ugh. Shut up.”

He just laughs harder, catching your wrist before you can push him again. “Too late.”

You elbow him, but he catches your arm, smirking as he tugs you closer. “So that’s it?” His voice drops slightly. “You’re mine, and I’m yours, but we don’t call it anything?”

The words send a shiver down your spine. Mine.

“…Yeah,” you say. “Something like that.”

Jungkook hums, his grip on your wrist loosening but not quite letting go. His fingers brush against yours for a second before he shoves his hands back into his pockets.

“Just stay with me.” You glance at him. “Don’t leave.”

“I’ll stay. Don’t worry.”

You continue walking, the quiet hum of the streetlights and distant city noise filling the silence.

“Taehyung said he wants you to stop by at the party once you drop me off,” you tell Jungkook, letting the information hang in the air before you ask, “But hang out with me instead?”

“You know, I was doing very important things before you called.”

“You never do uni stuff and this is the day you’re deciding to do a personality rebrand?”

“What do you mean? I’m on top of my grades...Kinda.”

You huff at his response. “Then, I dunno. Wanna be nerdy together? I can help you with your assignment.”

You’re pretty sure your marketing major and fashion design minor won’t do much to help him with stats, but you’re definitely down to stick around just to be close to him.

“I don’t think you can, but being nerdy together sounds extremely intriguing, so come on.” He holds his hand out for you and drags you the other way around to his dorm.

It’s not far, just a few blocks over, but the way his fingers loosely wrap around yours makes the walk feel shorter.

~

Here’s how the rest of the night goes: Jungkook, the ever exemplary student, continues working on his assignment, while you – an accomplished liar who successfully deceived Jungkook into believing you would help him – pretend to help for all of five minutes before succumbing to the far more important task of online shopping for cute clothes.

It’s being nerdy together (your version).

Every so often, he glances at you, probably wondering if you’ll suddenly become useful. You do not. Instead, you kick your feet up on his bed, adding yet another item to your cart that you definitely don’t need.

Your thumb hovers over the screen, eyes locked on the top that has no business being so cute. A strapless, velvety pink crop top. The entire front is held together by a line of sparkling, rhinestone heart clasps, leaving slivers of skin exposed.

“Do you think this is cute?” You turn your phone toward Jungkook.

“Very pretty.” Jungkook nods in approval, until his eyes flick down to the price. “What the fuck, ___.”

“What?” Add to cart. “It’s cute, no?”

“You’re a terrible study partner,” he mutters, typing on his laptop.

“I never claimed to be one,” you say, scrolling past a top that you absolutely do need. “Isn't being in my presence motivating enough?”

Jungkook snorts. “Right. I’m so motivated by your commitment to retail therapy.”

“Good,” you say, adding another item to your cart. “Then I’m doing my job.”

You watch him work on his assignment, your gaze drifting to his hands resting on the keyboard. His fingers are long and lean, the veins running along his wrists just noticeable under his skin. It's like every little movement is getting your attention, and suddenly, all you can think about is how good those hands would feel on you.

“What about this,” you say, a ghost of a smirk dancing at the corner of your lips. “When you finish your task, we can look through some lingerie. You can help me pick out a few things.”

The back of Jungkook’s head hits the wall. His eyes wander to the mirror on the opposite side of the room. You catch him staring – specifically at your propped-up legs, his gaze lingering a little too close to where your dress has ridden up, just enough to reveal a peek of lace.

“Hey, no peeking,” you scold, snapping your legs shut and stretching them out flat on his bed again, smoothing your dress down for good measure. “That’s also for later, when you finish your assignment.”

Smirking, you shift on the bed, just to test him.

“Must be so hard,” you muse, pretending to stretch as your dress slides just a little higher on your thighs. “Having a mirror right there, nowhere else to look.”

He scoffs. “If I wanted to see, I wouldn’t need a mirror.”

Jungkook doesn’t break eye contact, like he’s daring you to react. And maybe you should. Maybe you should roll your eyes, call him cocky, say you wish – but your brain isn’t working fast enough to form words.

“Remember how I fucked you against it?”

In his jersey. How could you forget?

And the way Jungkook’s lips twitch, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, makes your face heat up instantly.

“When has it become so easy to make you shy?”

“I’m not.” You glare at him, but it only seems to amuse him more. His lips quirk higher, that same infuriating twitch like he’s enjoying this way too much.

You sit up straighter, leaning forward just enough so your dress pulls a little higher on your thighs, the movement slow and deliberate.

Jungkook’s eyes move to your legs, and you see that flicker of desire flash across his face. His fingers twitch, like he wants to do something – anything – but he stays still.

“Wanna have a little taste to get some motivation to finish your work?” you tease, the giddy rush that heated your body fading as you flash him a mischievous smile.

“Anything to distract me from this shit,” he replies, already pushing the laptop off his lap, the screen still filled with charts and statistics problems. Ugh.

You shift to your knees and grab the back of his neck, crashing your mouth against his. He deepens the kiss a little, his lips soft against yours, the taste of him sweet and familiar. His breath mingles with yours, warm and steady. His hand lands on your waist, fingers lightly tracing the curve of your body.

You pull back just a little, eyes fluttering open to meet his, and for a second, you both just smile at each other, breathless and giddy.

“Should’ve been doing this instead of staring at those charts,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing your cheek as he gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

You laugh softly, heart fluttering, before kissing him again – this time with more confidence, more warmth. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer as if he can’t get enough. His touch is gentle, but you can feel the quiet desperation behind it.

His rosy lips are swollen after a few more minutes of kissing and touching and grinding.

You slide off the bed and drop down to the floor, your hands running over his thighs, silently urging him to move closer. He shifts toward you, letting out a sharp breath when your palm him through his grey sweatpants.

You want to start of slow, want to take your time, but you’re also so needy and greedy for him, that you can’t help but tug his sweatpants down his legs, along with his briefs.

You take his semi hard dick in your hands and begin to stroke him. You let a drop of spit fall onto his cock for lubrication.

Jungkook puffs out a deep breath. You want to hear more of that.

“What happened to a little taste?” he asks, barely able to contain the moans that leave his mouth.

“Can’t help it,” you shrug, watching him grow bigger and harder in your hand.

His hand reaches for the hoodie he gave you earlier, which was carelessly thrown on his bed. He places it gently on the floor in front of you.

“Sit here,” he says, smoothing out the fabric. “Don’t want your knees to hurt.”

You shuffle your knees onto his hoodie, adjusting yourself, and continue stroking him up and down. At some point, you use both of your hands. You missed feeling his heavy cock in your hands, sitting beneath him and just playing with him.

“Spit on it, baby,” he says, voice low as he grabs his cock by the base and holds it for you to spit on. “Good girl.” He watches you with hooded eyes rub your spit all over him, mixing it with the precum leaking from his tip.

His cock is shiny, glistening with veins adoring his length. You stick out your tongue, gently swiping it over his head. Jungkook hisses when you swirl your tongue around his tip, teasing him with slow moves. He strokes himself while you play with his tip.

“Missed this view.” He pulls away his cock and starts slapping it against your tongue, the heavy feeling and wet noises immediately making you press your thighs together. “Look so pretty on your knees. Such a pretty girl.” Jungkook slides his head into your mouth. “Suck, baby.”

You close your mouth around his cock while you lock eyes with him. Slowly taking him deeper until you can’t take more. Your eyes are already watery and you didn’t even get most of him inside your mouth. You bob your head up and down in a slow, leisure pace.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he praises, threading his fingers through your hair to push it away from your face. “Relax your throat for me, yeah?”

When you do, he presses his hand on the back of your head, pushing your down on his cock and forcing you to swallow nearly half of him. Jungkook lets out a pretty moan when he feels the tightness of your throat around his cock, closing his eyes for a moment. Tears sting your eyes when he pulls you back, your hands gripping his thighs for leverage.

He lets you catch your breath before pushing you down again, moving your head in a tempo to his liking. When he shoves his cock particularly deep into you, you gag, tears rolling down your cheeks. You’re an absolute mess when he pulls out.

“What a good girl you are,” Jungkook says, his voice hoarse and low. “You just love sucking cock, don’t you?” He rubs his sticky cock against your mouth before slapping his head against it. He moves to your right cheek, smearing the mess over your skin and lightly tapping his cock. “Hm, princess?” he asks softer, almost with fake sympathy. He raises his brows in question, looking down at you like there’s just you and no one else.

“Love it so much,” you agree, moving your head along to the mess he’s making on your face.

Putting his cock back into your mouth, Jungkook leans back, watching you with pleasure etched into his expression as you move your head swiftly, twisting your hand around the part you can’t reach.

“So good,” he mutters, his tatted hand against your cheek just to feel you.

You tug your dress down and bring his cock down to your tits. You spit between the valley of your tits, using his tip to catch it and spread it across your boobs. You moan when his head brushes over your perky nipples. You circle his cock around them in small movements, breathy puffs escaping your mouth with how sensitive you are.

“You’re so fucking hot.” Jungkook fondles one breast with his hand, kneading it with his long fingers. He lets a little drop of spit fall onto your chest too, hungrily watching as you rub it against your soft skin with his cock. “Just want a mess everywhere, right?”

You nod, dragging his cock back into your mouth because you just need to taste him.

Jungkook curses under his breath when you start playing with his balls with your other hand. “Fuck, baby. Gonna cum if you keep going.”

Music to your ears.

You continue, swirling your tongue around his cock as you move up and down, trying to go as deep as you can. You can tell he doesn’t want to cum yet, but he doesn’t drag you off his cock, he’s too needy and horny.

“Cum on my tits.” You shift, jerking his cock in front of your chest.

“You want me to?”

“Please,” you beg, pushing your tits together with your arm, looking up at him with big eyes.

He moans at that sight, spurts of cum shooting across your chest. He paints your tits white with a big load. Your mouth hangs open slightly at the cum dripping from his cock. You lick his cock clean before looking down at your tits.

“You came so much.” You hold your tits in your hands. You flick your finger through some of the cum, putting it in your cum afterwards.

“Fuck, ___, please.”

You giggle at his reaction. You rub the cum into your skin with his still hard cock before it can drip down and create and even bigger mess. Your tits are all shiny from his cum when you’re done.

A shaky breath bubbles from Jungkook’s mouth when you stroke him once more, for good measure. “Pretty sure you got every drop.” He taps your elbow, motioning for you to get up. “Come here.” He pats the bed. “Get on all fours for me.”

While you get comfy on your knees on his bed, he takes off his clothes. Jungkook pushes your dress up your ass, the fabric bunched around your waist.

Jungkook slides one finger between your legs, slowly tracing your pussy through your panties.

“My dick in your mouth got you so wet, huh?” He pushes your panties aside, uttering a soft groan at the sight of your slick pussy. “So needy for me.” He bends down and you can feel his breath on your folds.

“Jungkook, please,” you whine.

“Please?” he repeats. “Such a well-mannered girl.” His tongue darts out, licking a stripe across your pussy.

You’re so incredibly sensitive, been yearning for this for so long, that you back arches immediately, thighs starting to quiver at Jungkook’s mild torture with his tongue.

Jungkook moves to your clit. He switches from little flicks to your nub and sucking on it, creating wet and filthy noises. He’s skilled with his mouth – perhaps a bit too skilled for your liking. But right now, you don’t have the energy to think too deeply about it, you’re just focused on the tingling pleasure that shoots through your tummy.

“Right there, Kook. Don’t stop.”

You watch him through the mirror – the way he is keeping your cheeks apart with his hands, face buried between your thighs, fluffy hair bouncing along with his movements. So handsome, so pretty, so yours.

“Pussy tastes so fucking good,” He mumbles, his fingers sinking deeper into your skin.

“So close. Wanna cum, Jungkook.”

Jungkook hums against you, the vibration making your breath hitch. It’s just his mouth on your pussy, but he knows his way around, knows how to make you squirm.

The pressure builds, winding tight in your core, seconds from snapping. “Jungkook,” you gasp, voice wrecked. “I’m–”

He groans into you, gripping harder, and that’s it—that’s all it takes. The tension in your body breaks all at once, pleasure hitting so hard your vision goes hazy. A choked sound spills from your lips, legs trying to squeeze shut, but he doesn’t let you. Just stays there, working you through it, dragging it out until you’re nothing but shivers and gasps, completely undone beneath him.

Only then does he pull back, breathing heavy, lips slick and swollen. He looks up at you through the mirror, something dark, almost possessive in his gaze, and swipes his thumb over his mouth like he’s savouring the taste.

You look back at him, smiling at his shiny face. His lips are covered along with his chin and his nose and a bit of his cheeks.

“This is, like, one of your best looks.”

“What, fresh out the pussy?”

You giggle. “Yeah,” you mutter, swiping your finger over the tip of his nose to clean him.

“I could have my face buried down there forever. I don’t think you realise how good you taste.” You feel his finger spreading your folds. “But I know my girl is very needy, so she wants cock, hm?”

You sigh, melting into his touch when you feel him slap his dick against your pussy instead. “You know me so well.”

The dick slaps are so wet, and your haze-filled mind craves nothing more than for him to shove his cock inside you, raw and deep, filling you the way you need – no barriers, no hesitation.

But Jungkook is actually able to still form sensible thoughts through the horny haze and grabs a condom from his nightstand.

He doesn’t tease you much before he enters you, just slowly, inch by inch, sliding his cock inside you.

“You good, baby?”

“Uh-huh, you can move.”

You gasp, the feeling almost overwhelming but exactly what you wanted. His hands grip your hips, pulling you back toward him as he starts a steady pace from behind, each thrust making your head spin.

“Missed this pussy,” Jungkook rasps, sneaking one hand down to your ass to spank it, eliciting a surprised moan from you. “So tight, so perfect.” He grabs a handful of your ass. “So mine.”

He fucks you rough, doesn’t give you any chance to think of anything but him. Your hands are clutching at his covers, holding the fabric tightly in your palms.

You feel him spit down on your ass. He rubs his finger over your puckered hole, making you whine and bite your lip at the feeling.

“Oh, Jungkook.” He slides his thumb inside, just the tip of his finger, and yet it feels like so much more, the pleasure intensifying.

“You’re such a slut for me, aren’t you?” he asks, not stopping his relentless pace. “Love getting all your holes filled. So, so dirty.” Contempt is dripping from his voice, and you can’t help but have your pussy throbbing at that.

“Just for you,” you breathe. “Just you, Jungkook.”

“That’s, right.” He pushes his thumb a bit deeper, making your fingers tighten around Jungkook’s sheets. “You’re my girl.”

Your heart is racing, pulse pounding in your ears, and all you can do is nod, your body responding to him without thought, your need for him overwhelming.

With his other hand he tugs at your hair, wrapping it around his hand and creating a makeshift ponytail.

“Look at how pretty you look.”

You turn your head to the mirror. Your back is fully arched, and Jungkook’s all over your, his muscled and tatted body towering over you with his cock deeply buried inside your pussy.

He withdraws his thumb from your hole, delivering another spank to your ass.

“Make me go fucking crazy,” he mumbles, wrapping his hand around your tummy and pulling you up against his chest.

“Kook,” you mumble, resting your head in the crook of his neck. You don’t know what you want, only that you’re feeling this irresistible pull to him, like you want to be even closer to him.

He lets your hair go, moving his hand to your tits and squeezing them.

“Cum with me,” he whispers into your ear, immediately sending shivers down your spine. “Look at yourself when you cum, baby. Want you to see how pretty you are.”

When he sneaks his hand that was wrapped around your tummy down between your legs and starts flicking his fingers over your clit, it’s officially over for you.

You still try to keep your eyes open like Jungkook told you so as you teeter off the edge, your climax consuming you. You watch him come undone too, his brows knitted together, and bottom lip caught between his teeth.

You’re weak on your knees, but Jungkook keeps you firm to his chest, not letting fall as he thrusts into you in a slower, sloppier pace. He peppers your neck and shoulders with little kisses, and you giggle a little, delirious on your high. Your hand reaches for his bicep and you squeeze it.

His skin is hot under your touch, muscles flexing as he holds you up, keeping you steady against him. The slow drag of his movements sends waves of overstimulation through your body, but you don’t pull away.

“I know, baby.” Jungkook hums against your shoulder, his lips still ghosting over your skin, pressing lazy kisses between heavy breaths. “Still with me?” he murmurs, voice low, teasing, as his fingers brush down your sides.

You nod, melting further into him, body pliant against his.

Jungkook pulls out. You whine at the loss. He tosses the condom on the floor – you're too spent to tell him how gross that is – and shifts on the bed, lying down together with you.

His arm drapes over your waist, pulling you close, your body naturally moulding into his like it’s second nature. His skin is still warm, his breaths deep and steady as he settles beside you.

You glance down on yourself – you’re a mess. Panties still on, just pulled to the side like he liked, dress bunched around your waist, evidence of him all over you.

“Can I take a shower before I leave?”

“Sure.”

You wait.

You look up at Jungkook. “You’re not gonna ask if you can join me?”

“I thought that was clear?”

You smile. “Good.”

“Hey – will you now tell me what you wrote in your journal about me?”

“I know we’re back to being friends with benefits, but please know your place.”

“It was worth a try.”

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

To love me better

Tags: Yakuza Lord!Sukuna x fem!Reader, american!Reader, forced/arranged marriage, dark romance trope, dead dove, age gap romance (reader is around 21-22, Sukuna is 37), cursing, suggestive language, use of nicknames like “doll” and “kitten”, use of y/n, use of “good girl”, NSFW, MDNI, Sukuna is his own warning.

Synopsis: Yakuza Lord!Sukuna owns all of entertainment district. You’re trying to work to put yourself through law school. He has a proposition for you, and you have one for him. Chaos ensues.

An: I love how I started out on Tumblr as a Gojo girlie, but I quickly became a Toji girlie. However, I write the most fics about Sukuna. He’s just so interesting. I want to eat him.

Part one. | Part two. | Part three. | Part four. |

*art creds for sukuna image goes to @.maru6 here on tumblr

Nothing could ruin the rest of your night, nothing.

Not when you were counting up the money you made from tonight alone, and it was enough to keep you steady for over three months. You might not even have to work this job for long. Student loans be damned.

You were sat at the bar after closing. Your phone screen dimly illuminated that it was well past four in the morning, and your battery was running low.

The club was much less intimidating now. The music was dulled down to a low hum. The lights were on, exposing the club for what it actually looked like. Janitorial services were walking around while disinfecting every surface imaginable.

Honestly, the stranger’s words that he would be back had long left your mind. At first, you were nervous. You kept looking to the door, expecting for him to be there. You were jumpier too, and you started looking at your customers wearier.

Then, you realized it was probably a hollow threat. He had clearly had business with the Gojo clan, and he may not even make it out alive from that.

Yorozu was wiping down the bar and cleaning up. Since your customers were the last to leave, you were tasked with staying behind with her so you two could leave together. The club liked to use a buddy system for all of the girls. Of course, security personnel members were still posted at each and every corner.

“Sheeesh girl, you must have a natural talent for this,” Yorozu whistled as she watched you count through the massive pile or money before you. Most of it came from that stranger’s pocket.

“It must’ve been a hidden talent,” you meekly murmured with a small shrug, but you couldn’t bite back the small smile on your face. You felt elated, even if your feet were throbbing from the ridiculous heels you were wearing.

Yorozu grinned at you with a small laugh. She honestly found your calm and demure appearance to be charming, especially in this industry. “So humble,” she giggled. “Listen, some of the girls invest some of their money right back into the product to make sure they keep up with demand, but I don’t even think you need any of that.”

“The product? They invest in Malevolent Mass?”

“Girl no. They get work done. You know, a boob job here, tummy tuck there, a Brazilian butt lift if they’re brave enough. Remember, the product is your looks as well as the booze.”

“Oh… I don’t know,” you said sheepishly. The thought of walking around a courtroom with a BBL when you’re a lawyer didn’t necessarily strike you as professional, but to each their own.

“No, no, no, I get it. Like I said, I think you’re doing a good job with what you got. I’m trying to compliment you, silly.”

“Oh,” you exhale with a nervous laugh. You ease into the barstool, trying to remind your fight or flight instincts that Yorozu has been nothing but kind to you. You should relax around her. “Uh— I think you’re pretty too by the way.”

The bartender grins at you while she flips her high ponytail over her shoulder with a small wink. “Aww, thanks. I feel like I have the looks, but I don’t have the personality for a bottle girl. That’s why they stuck me back here.”

“Why is that?” you inquire, leaning your elbow on the bar as you prop your head up with your hand. Yorozu is working on cleaning off all the taps and nozzles.

“Because the first motherfucker to try and grab me is getting a bottle smashed across his head.”

You involuntarily laugh from the sudden bluntness of her words. Immediately, you imagine trying to defend her in court as her attorney, immediately taking a self-defense plea.

Before you can reply, tires screeching and motorcycles revving outside has you looking towards the door. Surely, it’s a couple of drunk people not realizing that the club is closed.

Then, the door swings open, and you can hear a few deep laughs echoing through the building. Security will deal with them, right?

You look up to Yorozu, wondering if she’ll end up telling them off instead, but you catch her fixing up her hair and pulling down her shirt a little bit further to expose her cleavage that was in fact — very pleasing to look at.

Feeling confused, you finally look over to who had entered the club, and your heart drops into your stomach. Instantly, your skin feels like TV static, and you have the instinct to run.

The handsome pink-haired stranger was walking towards the bar with a smirk planted on his face. His white button-up had been stained with a red splatter that you could only assume to be blood.

“Lord Sukuna,” Yorozu greets with a pretty smile.

Sukuna. You’ve heard that name before. Who was this man?

“Yorozu,” his gravely voice greets back. “Get my men a round, will ya? They deserve it.”

“Hell yeah! Drinks are on the boss tonight!”

“Boss! What about us, huh?” A security guard calls from his post on the second floor.

“The security men too, Yorozu.” He adds before he casually slides onto a barstool right next to you.

Surely, they’re just calling him boss out of terms of endearment.. You already met the manager, and this wasn’t him. Maybe he’s a friend of the owner..? Maybe…

“Good girl. You waited on me,” his voice lowly praises you as his eyes focus on your face. He finds your confusion and fear to be absolutely decadent. He’s going to savor this moment for as long as possible.

“I—“ your words get lodged in your throat as you don’t even know what to say right now. You have so many questions, but Sukuna’s men and security personnel are crowding around the bar. Everyone is too close, and you don’t want to embarrass yourself.

Yorozu planted a drink in front of every man including Sukuna, and she made one for herself. “What are we saying cheers to tonight?” she asked casually as she looked around the room.

“To the Gojo clan for being made up of a bunch of dimwits,” a man with short black hair called out, and he toasted his shot glass in the air. The rest of the men agreed, even Sukuna raised his shot glass before he tossed back his head, and the amber liquid slid down his throat.

Your eyes were zeroed in on the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed, and you traveled your gaze over to his hand, remembering the way his fingers tested your throat out while you cried on his lap. You felt a dull heat settle between your thighs, so you clenched them together to soothe the ache.

“You said you didn’t drink,” you whispered sheepishly to Sukuna while the men hooped and hollered in the bar, bragging about the easy hits they got off on the Gojo men.

“Oh doll,” Sukuna cooed as he looked over to you. He gave you a mock pity glance. “I lied.”

“Just like you lied about being the owner?” you questioned as you went to stand from your barstool. You didn’t need this. You made enough money in one night for three months. You could find another job before then. The last thing you needed was to get mixed up in a crowd like this.

A strong hand settled on your thigh, gripping it as he applied a little pressure to keep you sat. Sukuna cocked an eyebrow at your boldness. To think you could just walk away from him so easily…

“Did I ever specifically say that I wasn’t the owner?” he asked as he sat his shot glass down on the bar.

“Another round?” Yorozu spoke up. This was the most chipper you have seen her ever.

Sukuna merely waved his hand out her with an indifference that even made you want to flinch. However, she took it in stride and made everyone else another round, skipping you and Sukuna.

You still feel her eyes dig into your face as it’s obvious you and Sukuna are engaged in a pretty serious conversation.

“No, you didn’t, but I feel like that’s just lying by omission,” you say as your eyebrows furrow slightly. You can feel your stomach twisting in knots. A swirl of emotions settle in your body: shame, fear, and inexplicable arousal.

“Oh y/n, are you really the one to talk about liars hm?”

Your name on his lips fellt like a sucker punch to the gut… and the clit. You never gave him your name, only opting for your codename, but he knew who you were. It was only a matter of time before he knew what school you went to, what you were majoring in, everything…

You’re already in too deep.

Suddenly, everyone feels to close. Your clothes are itchy, and your hair is sitting on you in the wrong way. Everyone’s too loud, and the buzzing of the lights makes you want to rip off your skin.

Your breath picks up, shifting to small pants as you try to calm yourself down. You haven’t had a panic attack in so long... why now?

“Alright, hop up. Let’s go to my office,” Sukuna says as his hand lets go of your thigh, and he gently hovers it over your lower back as he stands up from his stool.

Nothing sounds worse than going to his office, except for staying here and breaking down in front of a bunch of Yakuza members and coworkers.

Your legs wobble beneath you, but Sukuna keeps a steady hand against you, grounding you to him as he carefully guides you up stairs.

“We’re almost there. You’re okay,” he sounds like he’s trying to comfort you, but allowing him to soothe you would be like cuddling up to a venomous snake when they wrap themselves around you. He’s sizing you up, looking at you like prey.

You’d pay more attention to your surroundings if you weren’t so focused on trying not to hyperventilate. You hear a small beep before a door opens. It’s locked by a fingerprint sensor, only Sukuna could enter.

He guides you to sit down before his desk, and you hear the door shut behind you.

“Let it out,” he lowly demands as he walks over to the corner of the office. He presses a button on a fan before it blows in your general direction. You’re grateful for the cool breeze as you let out a haggard sigh.

You silently bring yourself back down to earth. You were in a sticky situation now, but you’ve done nothing wrong. Sure, Sukuna is the owner of Malevolent Mass, and sure, he had his fingers down your throat earlier, but that’s not a crime.

His large figure stands before you as he rummages through his desk for a moment. Once he finds what he’s looking for, his gaze snaps back up to you.

“You’re not letting it out,” Sukuna grumbles as he steps behind you. His large hands comb through your hair. Your eyes involuntarily close, and you hone in on your five senses to ground yourself further.

You can feel the air from the fan blowing past you, and Sukuna’s fingers are gently combing through your hair. He gathers it up into his palms. His office smells like him, of leather and bourbon with a nice manly musk as well. The fan is quiet, but you can hear the small motor buzzing as its blades are propelling around. Opening up your eyes, you recognize that his office is quite bare. It doesn’t look like he’s here all that often.

By the time you’re finally feeling better, you realize that your hair is off your shoulders, and you look up to see Sukuna standing behind you, looking down at you.

Your eyebrows furrow, and you reach behind your head to see what he did, and you feel your hair tied up in a bun, using a pen to hold it in place.

He put your hair up in a bun for you.

“Did you think I chopped it all off?” he asks, not missing a beat with his smirk. Satisfied with your calmness, he walks around his desk before taking a seat.

“I wouldn’t put it past you,” you say slowly at your eyes look up to meet his. Being nervous wasn’t going to get you anywhere, you tried to remember the lessons in confidence that your law professor had given you. You straighten your back, pushing your shoulders back as you face Sukuna squarely. “So, should I call you boss too?”

He barks out a laugh from your little display. You really were nothing like anyone he’s ever met, and he’s met plenty of people from all walks of life. “Oh doll, I would much prefer if you said my name instead.”

His eyes rest upon you with an expectant gaze. He’s waiting for you to say it. He needs to hear you say his name.

“Okay… Sukuna,” you finally relent, choosing your battles wisely. “I— um,” Dammit, you’re already failing your confidence lessons. It’s something about Sukuna’s soft red eyes exploring over your face, like he’s hanging onto every word you say. “Thank you for getting me away from them and… helping me through that.”

“How precious,” Sukuna snickers as he leans back into his chair. “It’d do you well to know that everything I do is for the benefit of me, doll. Nevertheless, you’re welcome.”

“Putting my hair up in a bun benefitted you?” you press a bit, wondering just what his motives are now. Before, you assumed he was just some older rich man who was looking for a bit of play, but now… you weren’t so sure.

“I needed you calm before I sat down and spoke to you,” Sukuna answers as he watches your face carefully. He loves watching you try to piece everything together.

“Is this meeting some sort of performance review because if so, it’s rather late. I have other matters to tend to like trying to maintain some sort of proper sleeping schedule.”

“You’re rather mouthy to the man you work for, and for the man who forked up thousands of yen to you.”

A small sigh escapes you, knowing he has you under his thumb now. You should’ve never taken the money. You gave an inch, and now, he was going to take a mile.

“Oh darling, don’t look so down. I think it’s charming. It was just an observation on my part.”

You take a deep breath. You’re still at a loss for what was motivating him now. “Right… So, why am I in your office?”

“I have a proposition for you,” Sukuna says as he twirls a pen around his fingers. His digits effortlessly spin the pen in intricate circles, never losing grip or control.

“Listen— you’ve been exuberantly kind with your money, and I appreciate that, truly. But…”

“Aht, Let me finish,” he says in a lightly scolding tone. His eyes give you a disapproving look for interrupting him. “I don’t want you to work for me anymore. If anything was proven tonight, it was that you’re not cut out to be a bottle girl.”

Your jaw drops open, and your eyebrows furrow a little bit, forming a crease between them. He was firing you? How could he say that when Yorozu said you had a natural talent??

“Tch. Don’t take it as a bad thing, girl. Like I said, angels don’t last long in this industry. Consider it a favor that it’s ending with you being fired and not dead in a ditch.”

“Oh wow, thank you. How should I ever repay you?” you ask bitterly, barely holding back frustrated tears as they threatened to spill from your eyes. Your fists clenched at the hem of your dress. It’s just one setback after another.

“If you must, you can crawl under this desk and show me just how grateful you are,” Sukuna replies as he leans forward on the desk with a small smirk.

The audacity of this man makes you see red. He never misses a beat with his responses, and he’s fucking unshakable.

“So your proposal was for me to blow you for firing me-?” you ask incredulously.

“Oh doll, that would really be a treat, but no. I’m wanting something that can’t be obtained in just one night.”

“Please—“ you say before you pinch the bridge of your nose. You take a deep breath. Emotions don’t belong in negotiation, and that’s exactly what this is. “Can you be a little less cryptic? It’s been a long night, and to top it all off, I just got fired from the only job I’ve had.”

Sukuna’s quiet for a moment. His eyes roam over you before it looks like he finally takes pity on you. “Alright, I don’t want you working for me at Malevolent Mass. I think your set of skills would best be allocated elsewhere. Instead, I wanted to offer you a proposition.

“It’s clear that you’re money motivated, and before you throw some sort of tantrum, I’m not saying that as a bad thing. It’s just a fact. I want to support you through school, and in return, I just need you to be available to me.”

You stare for a long minute. Available to him. You could only guess what he meant by that. “You want a sugar baby,” you say slowly, narrowing your gaze at him.

The thought of letting him do more with his fingers than train your throat crosses your mind. You have to cross your legs to soothe the small thrumming feeling you feel deep in your core.

“Mmm, not quite. I’m not offering to buy you cute little outfits and fund your next beach trip. I’m offering to put you through school. Any expenses that relate to your schooling and/or living situation, I’ll handle. Actually, scratch that. I will buy you cute little outfits if they're for my eyes only,” Sukuna leans back in his chair, and his eyes stay glued onto your face.

“I can only assume that available to you means free use,” you scoff, rubbing your face in a stressed out gesture. You just made more money than you have ever seen, got fired, and propositioned to be a free use not-sugar baby all in one night.

“Smart girl,” he replies with a slight predatory grin.

You take a moment to wrack your brain for every little detail you’ve learned in your law classes so far. This deal seems like it benefits you, until he just gets tired or supporting you or until you don’t feel like doing a sexual favor for him.

He could also invoke his free use policy at any given time, demanding that you miss class or wake up in the dead of night.

There was also another problem.

“Free use of every inch of my body?” you inquire, raising an eyebrow at him.

Sukuna lets out another deep growly chuckle as he tips his head back. “This is what I get for trying to bargain with a future lawyer.”

Your eyes widen as you stare at the man across from you. “You know what I’m in school for?” you ask as your heart starts to thump harshly in your chest. You haven't mentioned that small detail to anyone at Malevolent Mass with the hopes that you could keep your work life and university life separate.

“Oh y/n, I know a lot more about you than you think, kitten. I don’t just hire anyone at Malevolent Mass, and I don’t just extend offers to just anyone either.”

You glance back towards the door, wondering if you could just run from this, but horror strikes you as you realize there’s a fingerprint sensor on this side too. The only person who could leave freely was Sukuna.

“Don’t look so petrified, doll, It was really a simple background check. I have to make sure those nasty dogs from the Gojo clan don’t try and weasel their way into my space.”

You look back to face him, trying to convince yourself that he was telling the truth. It was just a protocol procedure…

“You never answered my question. Will my entire body be free use to you?” you say, trying to keep your voice from shaking.

Sukuna rests his elbows on the desk, and he gives you an almost bored expression now. “Yes. I’m not putting you through school just to experience only half of the fun, girl.”

“No thank you. I’ll pass.”

He looks interested now, peaking up at you with a small smirk. “What bothers you about that, doll? Is it the ass play? I’d be willing to give that up. Never been much of an ass guy anyway.”

“I wasn’t—“ your eyes widen as you realize you’d be giving up your whole body to whatever kinks he had in store. You hadn’t even thought about anything past vanilla sex. “No, that’s not why. I just— no deal.”

“I hear you, but tell me what’s spooking you off from taking my deal.”

“I made a promise to someone really close to me,” you don’t dare to mention your dad, not wanting Sukuna to pry anymore into your personal life than he already did. “I’m not willing to give myself up before marriage, especially not to some sort of free use deal.”

Sukuna’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly. He shifts in his seat as his lips twitch upwards. Things just got much more interesting for him. “Ohhh, I see. You’re a cute little virgin, huh? I should’ve known based on how you cried from merely sitting in my lap.”

You swallow thickly, feeling your fight or flight instinct kick back in. He was acting as if you told him some sort of heirloom secret in your family. Your head slowly nods, not trusting your voice to speak.

“Hm. Alright, fine. Get out of my club, girl. And don’t let me see you here as a guest either unless you want me to bend you over my lap and discipline you myself.”

“I want to propose a counter offer.”

“Huh-?” Sukuna is rarely ever caught off guard. He prides himself on knowing everyone’s next moves, probably before they even know their next move. However, he did not foresee you, a meek little thing, giving him a counter offer.

“Are you not willing to hear me out? I’ll gladly leave with the money I made tonight,” you say, calling his bluff on kicking you out.

He quickly fixes his face from a look of surprise to another confident smirk. “Go on, doll. Show me what you got.”

“No free use. You support me through school financially including my livelihood and beyond that,” You purposely leave out the part where you don’t necessarily have a livelihood, but he’ll find that out sooner or later. “We get married, and then, you can have me as free use with the only stipulation that it can’t interfere with my school or work.”

Sukuna silently reaches over, and he clicks off the fan that was blowing on you earlier during your panic attack. A heavy silence fills the room, and his eyes bore into you.

“Are you looking to become the sole beneficiary of my life insurance policy, hm?” he finally breaks the silence, and a feline grin almost spreads across his face. He’s mocking you.

“No, you keep your life insurance policy to whoever it is. I’ll even sign a prenup stating that I’m not entitled to anything of yours in the event that we get divorced due to infidelity or any nefarious acts on my end,” you explain as your fingers subconsciously twiddle together.

Sukuna's silent for another moment as he weighs everything out in his head. You look down towards your hands, wondering if you just made some grave error in trying to negotiate. You should've just taken the money he gave you and ran.

“I take great pride in understanding human motives, doll. You’ve been one of the few to truly stump me. Tell me, why would you want to marry me? Because I know good and well it’s not to fulfill some promise to someone important to you. If it was about that, you’d understand that this… certain somebody would want you to marry for love, not for a contractual agreement.”

You licked your lips to wet them as you took what Sukuna said into consideration. You suppose he’s right. Your father didn’t want you to marry for some sort of mutually beneficial contract. Perhaps, your late father wanted you to marry so that you couldn’t be so easily abandoned again like your mother had abandoned you.

“Maybe you don’t understand because you’re on the inside,” you say slowly, keeping your eyes trained onto the floor. You felt your face warm with the unfamiliar feeling of vulnerability. Tears bit into your eyes.

“On the inside of what?” his question was more like a demand.

“Despite being born in this country, I am still on the outside. I don’t have a last name that anyone takes seriously. If I want to make change, people have to look at me with reverence and respect. Even being an outsider who doesn’t understand all the great family names of this land, your last name made me take heed. Your name demanded respect, and I want that same respect in turn for myself.”

Sukuna’s eyes widen but a fraction as his pupils dilate while looking at you. From the moment he knew your name and saw your pretty face, he knew you’d be interesting, but this? This took the cake for him.

“I need an heir for my… empire. If you’re married to me, I’ll expect at least one, though you should expect that I’ll keep your hands and stomach full with wifely duties,” Sukuna said, testing to see how you’d react.

“I want my degree first,” you expertly counteroffer, looking back up at him in the eyes. You were really agreeing to marry this man and have his children, but you have no earthly idea what his ‘empire’ truly was.

“Done. What else would you like, doll?” Sukuna easily agrees. His body leans forward into the desk. You’re so fucking tantalizing to him, and you don’t even know it. His heart is beating wildly in his chest. This is the same high he chases right before a well deserved kill. The only other person who has made him feel this same way without dying was Satoru Gojo, head of the Gojo clan.

“If you’re really a…” The word ‘yakuza’ dies on your lips. People didn’t throw around that word so frivolously. “If you and your business partners outside this office subscribe to that sort of kinship, I want to be as clueless about it as El Chapo’s wife. Please, give me plausible deniability.”

You could feel your moral compass shattering just from the mere bargaining of this. Just because you didn’t see something, doesn’t make it any less real. You were just turning a blind eye to Sukuna’s crimes… just like how corporations turned a blind eye to your father.

You try to remind yourself that this was for the greater good. You wanted revenge and penance for all the workers who have suffered at the hands of greedy men. You had to play to win.

This was only temporary. Once you established yourself in the field of law, you wouldn’t need Sukuna’s last name. By that time, he would likely already grow tired of you and move onto the next young pretty thing that fell onto his lap. Both of you would move onto different things.

Sukuna let out a deep, rich laugh that only men of high status could give. “Darling, I wouldn’t dream of involving you in my work, as long as you don’t involve me in yours.”

You let out a deep breath. This was really happening. What would your father say about the life you had chosen to live?

Your future husband slowly held out his hand to you. His palm was rough and calloused. The small splatter of blood on his white button-up spoke volumes to you. This was a man you didn’t want to cross.

“A deal, then?” his voice coated you in a false sense of security. Sukuna was terrifying, but in a way, he also brought you comfort.

“Before I shake your hand, I want the right to end our engagement should I change my mind. I’ll forfeit the money, and I’ll never step foot in the entertainment district. I’ll also never utter a word about anything I may have seen during our engagement.”

Sukuna kept his hand extended towards you. “The door your eyes kept glancing to has been unlocked this entire time, darling. The fingerprint sensor isn’t even active right now. You’re free to walk away from me all the way until you say I do,”

You glanced down at his hand then up to his eyes. He’s wearing a subtle smirk that tells you that he’s comfortable right now. You take his hand, and you shake on it before you could think wiser.

“Good girl. We can go over more explicit details the next time we meet,” your future husband smiles — a real genuine smile, and he stands up from his desk. His hands go to unbuttoning his shirt.

“I—“ your words get caught in your throat as Sukuna shrugs off his button-up shirt. His muscles look as though they’ve been delicately sculpted by one of the greatest artists to ever live. His tattoo, lines and circles that seem to have no other purpose, only accentuate every hill and ditch on his body. No, Sukuna’s not some sort of man — he’s a god.

“What are you doing?” your voice is about an octave too high, betraying your nervousness. You quickly stop yourself from staring, opting to cover your eyes up with your hands.

“Oh doll, don’t be shy,” he teases with a throaty laugh. He’s enjoying watching you squirm over him. “I’m for your enjoyment now, seeing as though we’re engaged.”

You hear fabric rustling, and you take the chance to peek between your fingers to see what he’s doing. He had another shirt tucked away in his desk, and he was now buttoning it up across his chest.

His old shirt was no where to be seen. He must’ve already expertly discarded it for no one to find.

You slowly stand as well, taking the hint that this conversation was coming to an end. You look for your bag before you realize that you must’ve left it at the bar when Sukuna led you up to his office during your panic attack.

“Come, doll. I’ll take you home,” Sukuna says, beckoning to you like an owner would their dog. He opens the door, proving that it really wasn’t locked.

You slowly follow behind him. “It’s fine. I can walk or take a subway,” you say slowly. The thought of Sukuna seeing where you lived, even if you were on student housing, made your skin crawl with unease.

“Oh y/n, you have so much to learn about me,” he taunts as his hand grazes the small of your back. He carefully leads you down to the club level. The bar had mostly cleared out. You noted how Yorozu had seemingly left. So much for the buddy system. “I’m not the type of man to let my future wife navigate the entertainment district at this ungodly hour without so much of a cell phone to call for help.”

“I have a cell phone—“ you quickly protest before you pick it up off the bar. It was completely dead. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. How did he even know about that..?

“I watched the screen fade to black as you were accusing me of lying. Let this be your first lesson, your trip here was the last time you’ll be free to roam the streets of the entertainment district without some sort of protection with you.”

You swallow thickly as you slowly grab your purse. Not that the money mattered, but it was still left undisturbed on the bar. Sukuna’s eyes flickered between you and the stack of yen, as if silently telling you to take it… even if you didn’t need it now.

“Consider it a down payment,” Sukuna laughs as he grabs a helmet off the bar. Your eyes widen as you remember that he didn’t drive a car here.

Your future husband doesn’t take a moment for pause as he walked towards the doors. He holds it open for you, expecting you to follow him.

What other choice did you have? You also didn’t necessarily fancy walking home without a phone to call for help if you needed it.

He turns to face you before reaching around and pulling the pen he had meticulously placed in your hair to hold it up. Your hair fell down, and he stepped closer to you. “Have you ever ridden before?”

You slowly shake your head. You’ve never even been close to a motorcycle before, and Sukuna’s bike looks intimidating.

“Mm, I should’ve guessed by the fear in your eyes,” he laughs lowly before slowly slipping the helmet over your head. You’re rendered blind for a moment as it takes him a second to adjust the helmet to your head. His fingers delicately adjust the straps beneath your chin, making sure you’re properly secured in.

“If I would’ve known I’d have my future wife with me, I would’ve opted for the car instead of my bike. You’re lucky I’m a good driver, doll.”

Your hands go to raise your visor up so you can look him in the eyes instead of a tinted plastic meant to protect your eyes. However, Sukuna slaps the visor back down with a hearty chuckle. “Keep it down, kitten. Don’t you want to be able to see while you walk down the aisle?”

His strong hands then wrap around your waist, and he lifts you effortlessly as though you weigh nothing to him. You barely make it through a gasp before he safely settles you onto the back of his bike.

“Put your feet on the pegs,” he instructs as he carefully swings his own leg over the bike. “When we’re riding, you hold onto me, and lean with the bike not against it.”

“What does that even mean?” you shout, feeling like your heart is going to have palpitations after this ride.

“It means…” he reaches behind himself to grab your hands, and he makes you wrap your arms around his waist. He places your palms on his rock solid stomach. “Hold onto me and trust me, doll.”

You’re forced to lean into him, practically laying yourself against his muscular back. His warmth seeps into you as you hold onto him tightly. The bike roars to life.

“You ready for the ride of your life, doll?”

The beautiful neon lights of bright purples, lime greens, and cyan blues zip past you as Sukuna revs the bike. The engine purrs and whines as he drives the bike with a confidence that comes with riding for several years.

The entertainment district is at its prettiest during this hour. Not many people are out and about, but it’s still dark and the streetlights illuminate the space. It feels like it’s straight out of a dystopian science fiction movie.

The ride is mostly silent. You’re focused on the feeling of the wind in your hair and the sights that Japan has to offer. You stay wrapped around Sukuna, using his body as an anchor while it feels like you might blow away.

It gives you time to think and reflect. You’ve done more new things in the last 24 hours than you have all your life. It feels… freeing, a sort of freedom that you haven’t felt since your father was injured at his job.

A sudden thought occurs to you. You never told Sukuna which student housing you live in… Sure, he could infer that you live on student housing, but there’s still multiple housing facilities that you could live in.

Much to your dismay, he pulls up to the exact right building, and he slowly kills the engine. “How was that?” he asks as he turns over his shoulder to look at you.

Your fingers quickly fumble with the strap of your helmet, trying to peel the safety gear off of you.

Sukuna laughs quietly as he watches you struggle. He pushed himself up off the bike, so he could tend to you better. “Careful, doll. Don’t overwork yourself. I’m sure the ride wasn’t that bad.”

Once the helmet was off, you stare up at him with a heat of a thousand suns. “How do you know where I live?” you demand as your eyebrows furrow. Your lips curl into that adorable pout that makes Sukuna involuntarily grin at you.

“I already told you, doll. I don’t just let anyone work at Malevolent Mass, and I certainly don’t just offer marriage to someone I hardly know,” he says it as if it’s the most natural thing on this planet.

You’re completely speechless for a moment, reeling over just how much he knows about you. He made the deal with you knowing what he was getting himself into; however, you basically just signed yourself up for a blind sentence.

“As much as I crave the fear you’re wearing on your face, it’s late. You have class on Monday, which means you need to fix your sleeping schedule tonight. Go inside, get some rest, and make sure to charge your phone. I’ll be in touch.” You don’t even bother asking how he knows your phone number.

He reaches out to you, bracing a hand behind your head as his fingers intertwine strands of hair. He then bends over and presses his lips gently against your forehead.

A warmth blossoms over you. A simple forehead kiss was not what you were expecting from the man who fucked your mouth with his fingers and propositioned you for a free use bargain. It felt simple, sweet, innocent…

It’s almost enough to make all the anxiety lift from your shoulders, but you still yourself, reminding yourself not to fall for such frivolous tricks and pretty words… even if it was really thoughtful that he had already thought about your schooling.

“I’ll draft up a contract before our next meeting, doll.” He slides the helmet over his own head, and he pushes the visor upwards so you can gaze into his red eyes that appear soft at the moment.

Coming to your senses, you give him a weary gaze. “Written contracts only ever benefit the writer of the contract.”

You can’t see his lips, but you can tell from his eyes that he’s smirking at you like he’s proud of you for picking up on such a minor detail. “I have such a clever little wife.”

With that, his bike roars to life, and he points towards the door of your building. His intention is clear enough. You’re now to do as your future husband says.

Taglist: @theuniversesnepobaby @lizatonix @starmapz @everywonuu @totallygyomeiswife @sukubusss @depressiondiaries @t4naiis @hishearttohave @soraya-daydreams @lulunx @s-1-xx @el-lise @prettyngeto @marifujioka @iheartlinds @gina239 @actuallynarii @shxyxyxxxx @krispycreamepie @emoedgylord

[dollyichi]

OH KATSUKI

bakugou katsuki x f ! reader ᯓ★ 3.7k words. m—dni. roommates + university au / f/wb / toxic themes (slightly) / creamp!e (don’t be like them!) / bisexual katsuki / krbk open relationship / ex!sero / slight ooc / mentions of smoking & drinking / not proofread

an entry to my “ milk and cookies “ event with the prompt #5 “i'm not gonna last long if you tighten up like that sweetheart.” this is my self request oops!

you just broke up with your ex, and your roommate’s boyfriend is miles away. having fun together shouldn’t be too bad, right?

you’re sat by the kitchen counter. eating the reheated dinner your roommate left by the fridge. you just got home from a pretty rough night.

you’ve just broken up with your boyfriend, but that’s life. you’re sure he’s going to beg to get you back next week but it didn’t matter right now. the relationship was a mess and you were sure it wasn’t exactly love.

you hear a door open and you see your roommate getting out of the shower. “hey kats~” you say.

he places the towel on his shoulders heading over to you.

“you just got here? it’s interesting you’re actually home.” always sassy, but that’s why you liked him. it’s true, you’re rarely at home anyway. only there during exam season or at the morning. always outside at a party or with your boyfriend, now ex.

“yeah we broke up.” you say with a dry chuckle. he makes no response, instead goes to the fridge. “yikes. well that’s none of my business.” he says, not actually knowing how to comfort someone after hearing that.

the sad thing about your relationship ending was the constant sex. you were sure that was the only factor gluing you two together. he was a sweet guy, but you were sure getting your brains fucked out happened more than a proper date—and you’re sure he’s still got his ex flings on his contacts.

“you and eijirou are still dating right?”

“it’s an open relationship.” he mumbles, grabbing a glass to put water in. you’re kinda happy to know that though.

“hmm makes sense but, doesn’t it get lonely? i mean he’s in osaka and it’s a pity you’re not getting fucked while he’s gone.”

he scoffs, “who says i’m not getting fucked?”

“i know you’re home every night bringing no one over.” he shakes his head.

“tch. fuck off. what’s it to you?”

you didn’t know why you even thought of it. maybe you just wanted some type of comfort, or maybe you’re just an insatiable wreck. though nobody would blame you for finding the blonde attractive, if given the chance anyone would love to eat him up, you just wanted to know if he’d give you the privilege.

as for the ‘issue’ at hand, you didn’t cry after what happened. “let’s break up.” you repeat in your head from earlier. you didn’t know if you’re numbed from all emotion of romance but you always wanted something physical. exactly how your relationship with your ex started and now, you’ve broken up because he wasn’t being ‘a boyfriend.’

the breakup felt empty but it didn’t exactly hurt as you expected. it felt weird even. like a ‘so what now?’ feeling.

“then, let’s be fuck buddies.”

he flinches at your question. and even you were slightly surprised. still, you got it out.

“yeah right, like i could get it up for you.” though that’s a lie. he’s thought about it, once, twice. in the rare times you bring your ex over and he hears those muffled moans from the other side of your room through the wall— “come on kats. we could fuck when we’re free, how about it?”

“what even happened with that sero that you’re replacing him? or are you such a cockslut that anyone’s good?”

“we broke up so it’s fine. and i only offered to you.” he rolls his eyes and you laugh. “i’m serious! my door’s always unlocked anyway. if you wanna use your dick just come right in.”

“i’m serious, fuck off.”

you smile at him, getting excited that he’s glaring at you under the dim light of the kitchen.

“the fuck’s wrong with you today?” he thinks to himself.

you take your coat off and walk to your room. katsuki didn’t dare watch you walk away, however your suggestion lingered in his head.

you were probably drunk, you smell of alcohol and you’re not thinking properly. you were always nice to him, you were always sweet.

still, he finds himself texting his boyfriend to tell him what you just asked.

eijirou: hey baby it’s okay, you can fuck around with y/n i don’t mind at all.

he thinks about it.

you and katsuki weren’t too close to begin with. sharing this big condo with him was just for convenience. both of you were going to the same university, he needed a roommate and you needed a place.

you thought of him as a friend and he does confide in you every rare chance. eating dinner together, cooking for you while you clean the place. helping each other with some projects, not too deep not too shallow. he was a hot headed guy who’s in a ‘long distance relationship’ and sees his lover every six months. that’s mostly what he knew about you too, how you were always out with your ex boyfriend, how you were always on and off.

fuck buddies—you’re pretty, attractive, though sometimes unbearable but it’s not like you’re asking him for a relationship—like hell he’d break up with his lover for someone as crazy as you.

would it be so bad to have a bit of fun?

the next day you greet him like normal. wave at him in campus like normal, eat dinner with him like normal.

you’re giving him so much to think about and you’re acting like nothing happened and it’s slowly driving him insane.

he’s a man too, he’s got his own urges—exactly why eijirou suggested to keep the relationship open, as long as it’s purely for sex.

it’s been a while since he’s hooked up with someone either, and he’s not the type to really go out of his way just for it.

you did smell of alcohol when you brought it up, but you were the most straight forward person he knows. the biggest factor as to why he even let you be his roommate in the first place.

your offer was convenient. he knows you, you know him, he doesn’t have to drive too far cause you’re just there. your face is nice and he doesn’t mind at all.

“yeah…. i don’t mind.” he mumbles.

you didn’t think much of it the moment you turned your back on him. you didn’t want to be pushy, you didn’t like repeating questions either. so if him not acting on it is his answer then it’s fine.

“not going out tonight?” he asks breaking the silence. you tilt your head at him, “do you wanna go out? i don’t mind.” as if that’s his thing.

“nah just unlike you to be here is all.” you both were washing dishes. wiping the counter, cleaning around. bumping arms from time to time, it was silent, comfortable.

though you probably didn’t notice the slight bags under his eyes for keeping him up at night from your question.

“maybe not tonight.” he thinks.

nothing happened the next day, and the next. you’re acting too normal, only uncharacteristically staying more at your shared place with him. not going out with your friends, not drinking, though he sees you smoking at the balcony from time to time.

it was already late at night and he couldn’t sleep. you on the other hand is on the couch on your phone.

you’re fresh from a breakup, but it’s firm you just wanted to get off, no strings attached.

katsuki almosg felt pathetic from how much he’s overthinking this.

he reads a text from his boyfriend, making sure he wasn’t doing anything stupid at all.

eijirou: yes katsuki i told you i’m okay, i’m fine with it. i’d rather you be with y/n than some random too. don’t worry about it baby and just tell me what happens. <3

it almost hurt how casual it was but it shouldn’t—he’s in love with someone else. hooking up really wasn’t his thing, that’s why he rarely engages on it no matter how ‘needy��� he gets, and he’s not necessarily needy.

yet, somehow you’re getting him to be. you’re not even doing much but it’s like you’ve planted a ticking bomb in his head.

of course, he’s not gonna back down from such a good offer though.

he groans, getting out of his bed and walking over to where you were. his lover gave him an explicit yes. there shouldn’t be any issue now.

“hey kats~” you greet him, just like you did the other night. it’s sending shivers down his spine. “let’s do it.”

“huh?” you act dumb, knowing he actually agreed.

he clicks his tongue, “let’s fuck around.” impulsive but well thought.

you grin, sitting up properly to look at him from the couch. standing over you under such a dim light just like before. you didn’t think his presence would be so demanding like this. but he’s already wincing from your glare—almost crystal clear from the way you’re looking at him, how you’ve been wanting to eat him up.

you waste no time getting him seated on the couch, already on his lap while you start to grind on him.

you’re overwhelmingly assertive it’s so attractive. “how do you fuck with eijirou? tell me everything~”

his breath hitches when you start kissing his neck. getting sensitive when he feels your breath under his ears. “he tops.”

“that’s your preference? what about girls?”

“just a few times.” you hum. “usually oral or fingers. not often more than that.”

“kissing?”

“that’s the best part.” and you swore you almost swoon. you didn’t know katsuki could actually be cute.

he stops you for a bit, “are we really gonna fuck tonight?”

“well what do you want to do?”

he sighs, “just wanna feel you a bit.” you wait for him to make his move. you wonder what he'd do, what he likes.

“stick out your tongue.”

and so you do, moving your head to look at him with you tongue out. katsuki leans forward, taking the tip of your tongue in his mouth. his hands are already moving towards your chest.

katsuki fully takes your tongue in his mouth, sucking on it. you mewl against him—you never did that before.

katsuki pulls away to take off your shirt. “didn’t know you liked that.” you tell him.

“yeah? i like a lot of things.”

it was definitely like a reset on your part, almost like an awakening. seeing this new side of him, getting to understand and feel this way for the first time—katsuki was just so different from anyone you’ve ever been with, and from what you even imagined.

the cherry on top was seeing drool coming out of his lips. you should’ve just broken up with your ex sooner. and you’re so glad you never asked him to get into a threesome, that scumbag didn’t deserve to see someone as perfect as katsuki.

when your top’s finally off he takes a bit to look at them. “even your tits are pretty huh.”

this might’ve been the first time you’ve ever felt shy.

“take your shorts off for me.” you nod sliding them off slowly, making sure he sees every inch of skin that you’re revealing for him. katsuki can’t help but grin from excitement.

“thought you couldn’t get it up for me?” you say hovering over the bulge from his sweats. he rolls his eyes.

he holds onto your sides while you pull down the fabric along with your panties. his mouth’s slightly open when he finally sees your pretty cunt that’s shiny from the slick pooling. he chuckles, using two fingers to swipe between your folds, “you’re so fucking wet.” he says, moving his fingers up and down as strings of your slick stretched onto his fingertips.

you shudder when he stills on your clit. your move your hips, trying to get any stimulation from him. “too eager huh.”

he takes of his fingers causing you to whine. in a swift motion he carries you over to his room. “funny you chose yours.”

“don’t want plushie eyes watching me fuck you thinkin’ i’m their dad.” it’s cute that’s he’s trying to be funny.

"don't got a condom." he says as he lays you on the bed softly. wasting no time then to hover above you. "don't want you to use one." neither of you couldn't help but chuckle.

you're both just as needy.

“can you play with yourself for me?” his voice was raspy, breathy, almost needy. you’d prefer him touching you but him on top was enough to get your hands moving towards your clit. “yeah circle around it with your pretty fingers.”

you do exactly everything he tells you to. moving faster, slower. teasing your entrance while he pinched your nipples. he’s kissing the corners of your mouth while he asks you make yourself cum while he toys with you.

you never noticed the mirror on the top of his bed. you were rarely invited into his room, this is the longest you’ve been in there.

“what a fucking view.”

his back is so seductive, watching it move while you get off on your own fingers. the visual and the stimulation on your clit and his hot breath on your neck is getting you so sensitive—you’re almost there.

you’re almost shaking from how hot he’s being. “when are you gonna fuck me kats~” you’re already a mess doing this much. he’s stripping himself off his clothes and you’re getting so close the moment he’s flashing his happy trail.

katsuki hisses from hearing how wet you are, all for him. it’s just so different from what he’s used to.

“don’t wanna cum yet.” you say, slowing down your fingers. he pulls you towards him, maneuvering your body so that he’s on the bed.

you’re sat back on his lap, you bring your fingers covered in his slick towards his mouth which he takes in. sucking on them while he starts pumping his shaft. your breath hitches when you feel him moaning against them.

you wanna fuck him so bad.

he pulls away, lips now covered in more spit than earlier. katsuki’s getting messier each minute he’s so gorgeous to you.

“sit on it yourself.” firm and commanding, you’re sure him getting you to do the chores would be bad after this.

you replace his hand with yours, positioning the tip against your entrance. you’re surprise he even let you do this raw, someone so picky as him.

“f-fuck yeah…” he moans while he enters you. so slow yet so smooth, like a perfect fit. “i'm not gonna last long if you tighten up like that sweetheart.”

you elicit a long moan. you can feel him throbbing inside you, “fuck this is the best.” you hear him say.

you jolt when he pushes you down, back arching as your chest hits against his. you’re sure you could feel him so deep inside it’s driving you insane.

you’re panting, trying to catch your breath but he ignores you, gripping your hips to move you the way he wants, using you to get off like a fucking toy while you’re trying to get a hold on his shoulders. “said you wanted me to use my dick right? well aren’t you all bark.”

“your cock’s so f-fucking big!” bigger than your ex’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever fucked before.

you’re scared you could get addicted to this. you’re scared the moment you stop you’d ask for it every night.

“s-shit- katsuki-“ you couldn’t even look at him properly. you were so sure if you were eijirou you wouldn’t let him go. if you eijirou you would’ve been fucking him everyday.

he’s fucking you so good you’re tempted to ask him if you could be his second lover. you wonder would he be sweeter? more softer? would it be more intimate than this?

would he call you baby? what else would he do? would his hands touch you more tenderly?

he's handling you so well you're hoping this wouldn't be a one-time thing.

though underneath katsuki’s roughness is a man that’s easily stimulated. it’s sexy that your sweating, it’s sexy that your tits move while he bounced you on him. when he pulls on your tongue with his fingers when you ride him.

you sit back and show him your puffy clit, which he presses his thumb against, circling around the the sensitive bud. “you’re whimpering so much.”

maybe he’s getting carried away, wanting to invite you when eijirou comes for a visit. getting greedy thoughts getting you to ride him while he’s sucking off his boyfriend.

“h-hey focus on me.” you cup his cheeks with a pout.

he looks at you with half lidded eyes, removing any restraints he’s been suppressing for the past few minutes.

it’s getting so late and you’re still at it. you’re just that good. “you’re cute when you become a mess huh?”

his cock’s so big it’s still not letting up, even getting bigger with every thrust. both so focused in each other that he let his phone ring a few times before he picked it up.

“put it on speaker~” you whisper.

katsuki makes the swiping motion to answer the call, “sero.” he says.

he hisses when you clench on him tighter from hearing your ex’s name out of his mouth.

he’s always fucking ruining shit, but do you even care anymore?

you take his phone from him to place beside you. “honey~ i’m fucking katsuki~” you exclaim, wrapping your arms on his neck as you pulled him closer. katsuki looks at you with confusion, absolutely hates that you’re involving him in a feud he doesn’t care to be in.

then again, perhaps this whole ordeal got him involved automatically.

“y/n? w-what?” you hear sero’s voice break.

a new record, barely a week in and he’s getting katsuki to talk to you for him. "what a loser," you think.

you’re not interested in talking though. you've almost forgotten that your ex even existed the moment you got a taste of your roommate.

he tried to talk to you, call out to you it was so pathetic. saying how he misses you, if he could come over, only to be drowned out by your spews of, “oh katsuki,” or praises of the blonde's touch getting rougher each time your ex started to beg you to listen. it's almost bruising.

“you’re better than him.” katsuki’s sure he could hear sero’s heart break from the other side of the screen. his eyes were focused on the number of seconds of the call. only for it to end, knowing he’s given up.

he chuckles, “you broke him.” and yet he feels somehow prideful, an ego he didn’t know he had—how he’s fucking you while your shitty of an ex is struggling to get your attention, pitiful but exciting.

“nah he probably didn’t- hnngh~ get a shot with a girl that’s why he’s crawling back.”

“yeah? and i was sure he was fucking you good every time.” you yelp when katsuki changes positions. you’re now on your back again, watching him from the reflection of a mirror.

you’re such a mess, you didn’t even realized you cried.

“you made me want to fist my cock every night.” he says before thrusting back in. it was steady, hot, you’re sure you’re already melting as he picked up the pace. you didn’t know how much more you could take.

“your moans are always fucking hot.” he takes your legs to wrap it around him, “but it sounds better when it’s my name instead.”

you’re so close, he’s holding back so well. you’re probably the best fuck he’s ever had. “g-gonna cum-“ you weakly whisper.

his cock’s already twitching so much you could feel everything. “inside please- do it inside kats~” no matter how much you’re fucked out you still have it in you to tease him with that tone of yours.

it’s going to haunt him for the rest of his life.

as if it’s like a switch flips whenever you call out to him. how your tongue perfectly moves when you say his name, like you’re meant to.

yet you’re not his, and he’s not yours. you’re only just playing around, this was just to satisfy his urges and yours.

somehow, still, he didn’t want to let you go. and you’re the same.

he yelps when you pull his head down towards you, taking him in a sweet kiss. bucking your hips upwards to meet his as your movements turn more erratic.

cumming feels so much better when you’re kissing. all you could hear in the room was the sound of skin slapping against each other and your moans muffled from the kiss.

you grip onto him, clawing at his back and he didn’t care how much of a mark it left on him.

his thrusts become sloppier, quicker, and you feel your climax building up so fast. the knot in your chest becomes so tight.

“mmhh~” he moans loudly against you, pushing one last thrust before spilling inside, just as you asked him to. and you’re crying, feeling so full of him that you still wanted a bit more.

he whimpers while you tried to continue his movements, almost overstimulating him. katsuki pulls out and lays beside you. only to pull you close to him he plays with your pussy.

“look at yourself in the reflection for me. watch me play with your pussy.” broken breathy moans come from your lips as you bury your head further onto his chest. his other hand’s on your chin, motioning over your head to the top mirror. "such a fucking mess we made huh?"

you’re both sweaty, tired, yet he’s fucking you with his fingers relentlessly just to give you that climax you’ve given him so graciously.

“c-cumming~ katsuki~ 'm c-cumming!” it’s almost embarrassing how loud your cunt is.

that tight little knot in your stomach come undone, shouting his name one last time, your body twitching on top of his as you calm down.

“holy shit that was so hot.” you exclaim in between heavy breaths. "you liked it?" he asks you and you nod.

“then tomorrow.” huh? “i’ll fuck you even better tomorrow.”

“hah...” you breath out, laying on your chest on his to plant a kiss to his lips. “then we should let your boyfriend watch too~ to return the favor.”

“shut up.” maybe he’s gotten greedy for sure. he doesn’t even want to share you with his own lover after this.

can’t tomorrow come any faster?

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

[hoseoksluna]

LIQUID STARS | jjk

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

genre: angst, smut

word count: 11.8k

summary: to seal the deal, you give jungkook what he wants—your kiss, your cunt and your virginity.

playlist: liquid stars / pinterest board: wine

warnings: size kink, heavy dd/lg themes, provocation, dry humping, dirty talk, mentions of porn, oral sex (f. + m. receiving), multiple orgasms & countdown, dom/sub dynamics, reader has daddy issues (like the writer), first time, jealousy, inner child healing, plushie used during intercourse, jungkook fucks her numb & dumb, praise kink, cum eating, pet names and the establishment of a title, bondage, raw sex, tummy bulge, desperation, pain felt during intercourse, squirting

note: as difficult as it was to write this, i'm immensely thankful. this changed my life; it healed me and i'll dream about it for a long, long time. i was as exhausted as oc once i finished this, because i truly did give my all. everyone, this is part four to my series 'wine' and therefore the very end. this is the very beginning of jungkook's and oc's relationship. can be read as a standalone as there aren't any quirks from the other parts (except for bunny), though if you wish to read them now, now is the perfect time. now you can see the beautiful gradual development of their relationship. please, enjoy as you read and let me know your favorite parts bc i need to talk about this. heed the warnings as there are dd/lg themes that can be uncomfortable for some. thank you! and thank you for all the love on this series. i'll never forget it. i love you, guys. ʚɞ

side note: give some round of applause for 3D daddy provider jungkook everyone!! he deserves it!!!

Silky lilac bows adorn the tops of your pigtails that cascade down in loose braids, sprawled on the cotton of his pillow and on the soft belly of a bunny plushie. There are still traces of sunlight left on the bedding, which dissolve, little by little, into nothingness as the large star goes down, saying goodbye. It’s lightweight, the atmosphere—homely almost. And much to your surprise, you feel relatively at ease, despite the fact a man lies on top of you—a man you have a certain liking for. 

It was natural for you to end up here and you, yourself, wished for it, even. Deemed it was only right after the man took you around for a walk while his silly Doberman guarded each and every step both of you had taken in sync, especially so when he persisted in buying you a small plastic ring of the same bunny you’re lying against. He didn’t even forget about his own canine friend waiting outside patiently like the obedient dog he is, and fed him the snackies he got for him as soon as he returned from the shop. You swore Bam was as giddy as you when he received his gift. 

Now the ring glints in the last rays of the sun. His, too. 

While yours is as white as the cloudy morning sky, Jungkook’s is as black as the drowsily dozing night sky. You think it’s the perfect contrast between the pair of you. Not that you should be noting these things, considering you’re just friends. But his skin is satiny soft, painted in impressionist tattoos, while his muscles, that his well-fitted T-shirt graciously allows you to see, are strong. You’re sure he could just lift you and throw you around without much of a strain. And it certainly doesn’t help that he’s such a striking image of pure beauty. How could you not notice these intertwinings when they’re this lovely?

You like him—without a shadow of doubt. Can feel the call of an emotional attachment forming the more he studies your skin with the tip of his index finger, embellished with the Miffy ring, and it’s owed to the fact you’ve never been touched this way before. No one has ever come this close, no one has ever been interested in the moles scattered upon your shoulders, in the veins that make the pathway to the column of your neck. No one has ever gazed twice at them—but Jungkook?

He hasn’t stopped looking at them ever since he laid you down in the middle of his bed. 

How could you stop such a call? Such a lull, such a magnetic pull. You know you should, but for the meantime, you simply don’t want to. Can’t lose this moment, can’t lose this once in a lifetime opportunity—

Jungkook presses his lips against the prominent mole in the center of your left shoulder. Those pretty, puffy lips, closing against your skin, the smallest dart of tongue swiping past. It shocks you for a moment before the feeling dissolves beneath, adjusting within the freshness of your system. How could you refuse such dynamic poetry, expressed against your own forlorn body? When it’s so blatant that it’s natural, that your body willingly accepts it without a fight. 

You couldn’t. 

Stretching your fingers between the thick strands of his hair, you close your eyes to savor the feeling of being wanted. The movement of his mouth, going even as far as to the first vein rooted in your arm—following it with those half-closed pillows. Up, up until he finds the line of your collarbone. Jungkook pauses there, simply breathes against you before he interperses little pecks there, nibbles and gentle swipes of tongue. The lining of your top won’t let him go further down, so he changes direction—relies on the pathway of your veins to guide him to your neck. And there… at the first contact, you grip the roots of his hair. 

His kisses and nibbles are much harder here. And what’s worse, he takes the sensitive skin into his mouth and sucks. You fail at containing the whimpers that break out of your mouth and Jungkook reacts to them. Hums ever so deeply, rocks his hips against the mattress. You wish you were a bit bigger so you could feel the collision, but you’re just so small compared to his large form. You imagine he’s writing down the poems collecting inside of him with each cursive roll of his tongue. Wonder if there’s enough paper on your skin for all his words. 

“You sweet little thing,” Jungkook coos onto the crook of your neck, dragging his lips up and down before he stops at your jaw. You feel the warmth of his breath and his body heat seeps into yours, creating unity, blackening the ink. It feels strange, it feels so new. Brisk and springlike, like fresh air in a stuffed room. You want to stay here for a long time, tasting the wholeness of spring captured in him. You want his words to flush you red with the tinge of the entire sunlight that opens the buds of flowers during all seasons in a loop. “Can I kiss you?”

You haven’t gone beyond the innocent touching of hands with him. You brim with a tight feeling of thankfulness that he asked you such a graceful question, although something else steals your attention entirely. 

“Little?” you say, the smile on your lips pulled so taut that it quivers ever so slightly. It makes you crazy that he calls you that, but you play the game. Revel in it. “What do you mean little? I’m bigger than you.”

Jungkook cocks his brow at you, mouth falling into a lopsided grin. He sits back and you feel a whiff of coldness pass by the perimeter of your body, as if someone opened the window and let the winter air in, when it’s just his brief distance that caused it. The forming attachment in you tenses and before you can think about your actions, your hand finds his knee, his thigh and traces slow patterns there. Jungkook suddenly squeezes your waist, surprising you, and the ecstatic fluttering of butterfly wings break havoc all over your body. The solidness of his hands, their weight, their firmness, giving life to your body, meaning. You note how his fingers touch when he has his hands enveloped around you like that. And the inkling that your body matters in his hands like that slips into your mind, spreading through its axis. 

You bite your lower lip. A small ache begins to grow in your intimate parts. It’s so nice to be wanted, to be considered good enough to be touched, to be kissed. 

“You? Bigger than me?” Jungkook squeezes your waist again. Sucks in a breath through his teeth. Smiles softly; in a way that you find unbearably endearing. “No, you’re just little. Just a tiny, little bug. So tiny in my hands.” 

For the breath he inhaled, you exhale it. 

He leaves his hands there when he bends over you, hovering his lips over yours. His weight, his heat. You sigh against him in relief, in a newly blossoming excitement that he’s back again. You spread your legs wider, feet grazing his calves—

“Let me kiss you, please.” 

You’d give in, but the game is just so pleasurable. 

Your laugh is but a breath. “You wanna kiss me?” 

You exhaled, he inhaled. 

“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“Since when do friends kiss?” You cock your eyebrow at him just like he did, prodding your tongue on the inside of your cheek. 

He hovers a little bit higher above you, hanging his head in defeat, sighing. Places his hands in fists on either side of you, caging you in. 

“Premium friends do,” he mutters, lifting his head, face all serious. You dig your toe into the toned muscle of his thigh, twirling sweet little circles, gliding up and down. Watch as his eyes lid and he tries to control it. “Don’t do that or I’ll fuck you.” 

Your body panics, but you will it to relax. 

“Does that come with the premium subscription?” 

Jungkook purses his lips, supports his weight on one hand as the other, the tattooed one, grips your jaw. He squishes your cheeks, bites his lip once—seemingly ponders whether he should play your game or not before he lets go of your pout, but still keeps his hand there. He traces the shape of your lips with this thumb, feeding his desire to kiss you with scraps. 

“Yes,” he utters. “Kisses, orgasms, my dog. It’s all—”

Orgasms, not just sex. Orgasms. 

“I get to take Bam?” 

Jungkook tuts at you. “You get to take me,” he corrects you. “Though, can even such a little thing like you take me?” 

Probably not. Definitely not. 

“But what about Bam?” 

He looks at you as if he couldn’t believe the words you’re saying, turning his head slightly to hear you better. Then, he scoffs, running his tongue across his lips swiftly, letting them express the enjoyment of your provocation by stretching into a smirk. He places his hand back on the right side of you, thinking over his words. 

“Bam is mine, but you can pet him. You can kiss him.” You can hear the feigned venom in that word as he spits it and you grin, pleased with yourself. You enjoy doing this to him. “And if you’re good, I’ll let you take him out for his walkies.” 

You gasp slowly, fingers absentmindedly gripping his thigh. Butterflies buzz you with a mere hint of arousal and to convey it, you wet your top lip with the tip of your tongue. The dominance, the principle of proving to him whether you’re deserving of something. Your heartbeat quickens, reaching for him with each swell. 

Oh, you’ll be good. You’ll be good until he’s sick of it. 

It seems he’s as pleased with himself as you were with yourself, reading your body language as he beams down at you, dimples poking holes in his cheeks. You want to stick your fingers there, pinch the skin at the corners of his mouth. Feel them, kiss them—

“Deal.” 

Jungkook blinks at you. He most likely expected you to be difficult. You like the look of surprise on him. A sweet kind of glint perches itself upon his irises. You’re at awe of how he manages to be so adorable and alluring at the same time. You could never understand it. You deem he must be otherworldly. 

“A kiss to seal the deal?” he tries, raising his brows, lowering himself to his elbows. 

He skims his lips across your cheek, descending to your neck. Places one, singular kiss there. Lifts his head to hear your answer, a soft curtain of hair falling across his forehead. 

You make a face as if you’re thinking about it. 

Jungkook groans. 

It’s cold, the way he turns away from you and it startles you—but then he slides his hands under your back and lifts you with ease, sitting you down on his lap. He moves you from the muscles on his thighs to the hardness of his intimate parts and you groan at the feeling of it. You’re wearing an airy short skirt with tights and knee socks underneath, the barrier so thin that you feel the solid, thick shape of him right under your femininity. 

You rock against him once. Jungkook lets out a sound akin to yours, fingers flexing—hands almost reaching for your behind before he decides against it and keeps them planted against your back. 

He desires your consent. And that makes you feel light-headed. Tipsy on the wholeness of him, on the pleasure coursing through your body. 

You rock your hips again—and this time, Jungkook whimpers. 

You take your hands and, slowly, you make a pathway down his chiseled chest. He twitches against you when your fingers pass by his nipples, his body following and squirming along. And once you reach the definition of his abdomen, your hands rise and fall against its quickening movement as his lungs heave. You’re mesmerized by his reaction to your touch. It’s as if it was his first time as well and something about that makes you woozy, savage and absolutely feline. 

And something about the way you’re allowed to do as you please, whereas he’s not, strengthens that state of mind, enriches it, thoroughly worsens it. 

You want him. 

It began with a ring and ended right here. 

And the process of your decision starts at his hips, finalizes at the pebbles of his nipples and finishes completely at the sides of his neck. He gives you the same, if not better, reaction, his manhood moving against you, and it’s settled. 

The giving of virginity to seal the deal, not just a kiss. 

Hovering your lips against his, you slip your hand to the place where you’re connected to feel up the shape of him. You moan onto him, vigorous power seizing you, propelling you to wrap your fingers around him. The breaths Jungkook emits are desperate, tortured, wafting over you, intoxicating you. It fills you with confidence unlike any other that you’re able to coax such a thing of beauty out of him—that you, the artist, have the upper hand momentarily while he doesn’t. 

And he waits, depends on you. You want to cry due to how happy it makes you, due to the way it suffuses an empty part of you, left abandoned by someone who should’ve taken care of it a long, long time ago. 

Because of that—if it’s kisses that he wants, you’ll give him as many as his body desires as a thank you. 

“You’re so hard against me,” you whisper. 

Jungkook grips your waist hard. 

“If you want it, you have to seal the deal,” he mimics your intonation, voice deep, tingling your tummy. 

“I want it.” You clutch both of your hands on his jawline, thumbs finding the invisible dimples. 

“Kiss me, then.” 

You whimper at the longing to do so. Your tummy clenches, butterflies inside swarm around and—

When you close your lips against his top lip, they burst into smithereens. Jungkook sighs in relief, enveloping you in his warmth. 

The kiss is hungry. You expected his first taste of you to be careful, contemplative, but he goes all in. Takes charge of the lip lock, swallowing you whole, moving against you, uttering low sounds that make your head spin and you just comply. Accept that you’re the one who submits to his craving and you find yourself liking it; find yourself wanting to deepen your submission. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, your head tilted as you reciprocate all of those hard kisses. When he comes up for air, he just gazes down at you, out of breath. One hand still on your back, the other cradles your cheek. There’s something puzzling in his eyes, as if he was fighting something within. You’re radiated by that energy, heavied down by it, letting him pet you like a puppy while you wait for the next step. 

“You’re so good that I’m considering letting you take Bam out,” he breathes, curling a wisp of your hair behind your ear. “Sweet little thing.” 

He pecks you once. You grind against his manhood and as he shortly groans onto your mouth, you splutter into giggles. Behind you, as if he heard him, the dog peeks his head out of the door, giving his Daddy a questioning look. Jungkook chuckles. 

“Bam, house.” 

The dog leaves and Jungkook sinks his fingers into your hair, sighing. Kisses you, again without tongue—only does what you’ve allowed him, but you overflow with the desire for more. He’s so considerate, so respectful and while you’re grateful for it, you want to break it. Your trust in him, made whole by all that he’s done for you, settled within you, made a bed in the sensitive parts of you that now shine. He doesn’t need to remain there—you want to go beyond that. 

“Touch me, please.” You look up into his eyes as you say it, willing them to see with all your energy how much you want him. 

He rubs soothing circles on your back. “If I touch you, I’ll fuck you, sweetheart.” 

You lift your butt ever so slightly and bounce down on him, your skirt furling. Jungkook moans, pleasing you to the core. It’s bratty of you, but it serves him right for being so stubborn, so firm in his control. You want to break him. 

“Can’t you see how much I want that?” you purr, bunching the cotton of his T-shirt in your fists. 

He merely shakes his head, licking his lower lip, fucking with you. He tugs on one of your braided pigtail, the other hand gliding to your hipbone. “This little girl is horny? I couldn’t tell.” 

A yellow light, sleepy in nature, spills through the blinds, latching onto the side of your neck. His eyes flick to it and his teeth sink into the wetness of his lip. He looks back at you when he says, “what was it that made you horny? The neck kisses?” 

He straps both of his hands to your hipbones now, adjusting you so your sweetest spot rests against his cock, rocking your hips like he wants them to. He swallows down his noises, makes room for yours. You figure he wants to hear them. 

You think about what made you horny. His respectful behavior. An electric spark spasms in your core at the memory and you roll your body against his at the impact—nipples pebbled, grazing below the hardness of his pecks. You moan loudly. He breathes heavily, can’t for the life of him contain that, gripping you with strength that will surely leave bruises. You add it to the list. 

His control—the momentary, delicious lack of it, too. The dominance that follows it. His noises and how unrestrained he is when it comes to them. The allure and the attractive charm of his looks, blended with that insufferable cutesiness. His hard cock. The neck kisses, too, of course. 

You summarize your answer and you tell him, “you.” 

A hitch in his throat. “Fuck.” 

Fuck, indeed. Fuck the steady rhythm—Jungkook speeds up your movement, the pace so fast your pigtails and your ribbons bounce, tits following suit. Your breath falls in step, moans echo within the walls of his room. He kisses you harshly, but that doesn’t silence you. He swallows your noises down, grunting. 

“You wanna know what made me hard for you?” 

You nod your head, lips forming a natural pout at the loss of contact. 

“Those fucking pigtails of yours. The knee socks. How tiny you are in my hands. Seeing you lose your fucking mind when I kissed your neck. Those marks I left behind, hm, fuck yes. Those marks made me crazy,” he mutters, staring you down. “And you know what else?” 

You wait for his answer as white flashes blind you, your roaring orgasm beckoning you close. He doesn’t stop rocking you against him, not once. Fills your brain with emptiness with his words coated wet by his dominant energy. You feel your own wetness soaking the fabric of your panties. 

“Your brattiness,” he says. “I want to fuck it out of you and make a good girl out of you that won’t misbehave again with her smart words.” 

A faint part of you, half affected by the pleasure he gives you, arises to stand up for you. “But I was good and you said so.” 

He clicks his tongue, disapprovingly shaking his head. Slows down the pace so you’re able to hear him loud and clear, your orgasm backing away. “You see the thing is with little bratty girls like you, even when they act good for me, there’s still that dark little side of them that hides. Unless I fuck it out of them, they play with me. And trust me, I like the game until I don’t.” 

You frown at him, but a moan betrays you. A fight throngs inside of you, his dominance yet again permeating you, causing you to flourish, but on the other hand, you don’t like being added to the mix. You want to be the only one—and it makes you angry that he had someone like you before you, that he even said it altogether. Though unfortunately, that’s something you can only keep to yourself. 

The forming attachment breaks, splitting into two, with the knowledge that your wish is futile. You understand he said it for the sake of the role-play that you both naturally, wordlessly established through sexual attraction, but you still have a lot of getting used to within the dynamic. He’s experienced, you’re not. Though, when you think about it, he doesn’t know a thing about your purity. You never told him. 

You blame yourself for your own pain. It’s your fault—you should’ve had a conversation with him about it before you let him do anything to you, instead of playing flirty games with him. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt, if he knew you were a virgin. The thought of what you’ve done stains you, makes you feel filthy, but you will it to kneel inside of you like a wounded animal. You need to be strong if you don’t want to storm out of his room in tears. 

No attachment, no liking. 

Just sex. 

There’s still a frown to your face, despite the fact you set yourself free with your decision. Jungkook chuckles at it, oblivious to your internal storm. 

“You didn’t like that, did you?” You didn’t like being compared to other girls he’d been with; there’s nothing to be said of the like about the role-play aspect. Being called bratty did rouse a moan out of you. “You prove my words right.” 

You roll your eyes. Jungkook grips your ass hard and spanks you. As the sting reverberates, along with it comes the realization you got what you wanted. 

You broke him. 

And now you have to face the repercussions. 

Good thing you’ve sobered up from the stupefaction of your arousal. 

You cradle his face and kiss him deeply in effort to change the narrative. No feeling of affection from earlier hangs upon your heart and you find that it’s easier like this. No strings, no pain. It relieves you—so much that you sense a layer of lightness to your body and tiny, manageable tears well in your eyes. You get to enjoy this after all. 

There’s radiance to your eyes, rooted in hope, and true softness to your words when you say, “I want you to fuck it out of me. I want you to be my first.” 

You want to be different—your pride is uninfluenced by your decision. If he fucks it out of you, the new narrative you’re longing for will fully take place and make living through this bearable. You know you can’t have him the way you’d like, but if fate wrote that you’re to have him this way—you don’t mind altering it to the little desires you’re allowing yourself to have. 

Once in a lifetime opportunity. You can’t lose it. 

Jungkook is left astounded by your words, eyes widening, shock evident on his features. Like your words, he softens, unclenching his fingers from your suppleness, the darkness in his irises making a way for gentleness to come through. He rubs the small of your back, hands ascending to your spine, feeling the clip of your bra, until he finds the nape of your neck. He holds you there, tenderly, as if you were a porcelain doll he now was careful not to break. 

The change in his demeanor is stark. It surprises you as well—and like everything that has happened within the hour, it isn’t something you expected from him. The emotion that emerges from the roundness of his eyes touches the hardness of your decision, tries to get through, pokes a gap inside, letting the light in. 

He tucks his darkness back inside. Strokes the back of your head, the silky ends of your ribbons sifting through his slender fingers. You relax against him and your body does it for you. It welcomes his tenderness, glad for the truth to be out. You fight against it—against yourself, willing your decision not to break but remain firm. 

No strings, no pain.

But to no avail. The light spreads. His light. Celestial twinkles of stars, small parts of him that make him who he is. 

“You’ve never had anyone before me?” he husks, regret glossing over his eyes, holding your head firmly as he awaits your answer. More stars spill like liquid. 

You shake your head ‘no’, your chest tightening. 

He kisses you and there’s something different about the way he does it. Now you can sense the carefulness you searched for earlier and you taste the primal core of loving care in the movement of his lips. The kisses are long, deep. As if you’re a different person now, a girl unlike any of the ones he mentioned. Someone who matters, someone who’s solid. You’re back at the beginning. 

A lump forms in your throat. 

“You sure about this?” he asks. 

One part of you, greater and illuminated by his stars, wants it gently like this, with flowers of innocence and purity besprinkled across his features, never leaving you out of his sight, taking care of you. But you fear that if you allow him to be tender, your heart will choose him again and cling to his side. The other, more faint part of you, affected by your decision, thinks it’s better to stick to the role-play, for there’s the aspect of illusoriness that will not bruise anyone’s hearts, especially not yours. It will make you horny, Jungkook will get you off and, glowing, you’ll go home.

You can’t decide. It’s too much of a heavy weight to bear on your shoulders. You can’t do it.

You need him to say the word. You need him to decide what will be the face of the trajectory of your premium friendship. 

Flowery or deceitful? 

A small candlelight in you hopes for gentleness and purity before your fear unfairly puffs it out. 

“Yes, I’m sure. I want you.” 

Jungkook lays you down and, at last, you feel his manhood against you. He bends to pepper apologetic kisses along the column of your neck and you feel the authenticity of his regret, thrumming against you warmly. Your breath hitches in your throat, the principle of the candlelight in you not being a high hope after all—

“I’m sorry. I should’ve gone about this better.” A kiss to your cheek; you stifle your sobs. “I should’ve checked in with you, but I jumped straight in. This was a mistake on my part. I’m sorry.”

He blames himself, not you. 

You want to remain stoic, but his authenticity beckons yours to come out and envelop him whole, gives access to your emotions and you can’t stop the miniature teardrop from flowing down the side of your nose. Neither can you stop the words that follow its footsteps. 

“I should’ve told you first,” you whisper, sniffling. Jungkook furrows his brows at the expression of your pain in tender emotion, wiping it away. “But I was bad—reckless.” 

He chuckles softly, caressing your hair. “You’re an angel. Sent to my side for me. You weren’t bad. I didn’t mean what I'd said.” 

His words, his touch, the kiss he adds to your cheek to punctuate his sentence—Jungkook erases everything that has just happened. 

Newness rushes in your chest, the pouring of spring into summer permeates your whole being. You hear the birds sing, the rustle of flimsy flower petals on tree branches as the warm wind grazes it with its touch. Jungkook seals this feeling by pressing a kiss to your sternum. 

He said it, so it must be so. You trust him. 

The firmness of the cage around your decision unlatches. Doesn’t fly away like the birds. Is a little bit afraid of peeking out. The candlelight returns to light up the room around that cage, blossoming into the sun. 

“We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to,” he says, looking up at you from the place where he dragged your top down to kiss your skin. 

The sun rays in you absorb all of the darkness. The firmness extends one wing. 

You run your fingers through his hair. Figure the only thing the summer in you is missing is the heat. You want him, you want sex and you don’t want to think about feelings or consequences. You don’t want to choose between anything anymore. You just want to enjoy yourself. 

“I meant it when I said that I want you to be my first,” you say, fingers curling around his ear. Jungkook leans into your touch and it’s as if he’s massaging the wing to alleviate it from a cramp due to being tucked in for so long. 

“Okay,” he sighs, taking your hands and pinning them on the pillow and bunny above your head. He sits up, examines you and you wonder if he can see how truly fragile you feel. “Do you trust me?” 

He’s had half a year of going out with you, mingling his life with yours, spending money on you and treating you like an absolute treasure to build your overall trust. And what he did just now? How he erased your pain? Your nod is immediate; you don’t need to think twice. 

“Of course I trust you.” 

“Good.” A soft smile. “I’ll make sure your first time will be beautiful for you.” 

Your heart thuds. His words steal all the breath in your lungs, smoothing out the surface of your body for his stars to fill. Tears prick at your waterline. 

“Are you scared?” 

You’re an empty canvas. 

“Not anymore.” 

Jungkook nods, gladness pulsating off of him. “I’ll be here the whole time. I won’t leave you, not even once, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

He finds the zipper on the side of your skirt and yanks it down. “How many times do you wanna come?” 

The ridiculousness of the question makes you laugh and you hide your face beneath your palms. “To be honest, I don’t expect to come at all. It is my first time after all.” 

You marvel at the honesty seeping out of you. His work, no doubt. 

Jungkook frowns, ridding you of the skirt, fingers hooking under the hem of your top. At the reveal of your pink, flowery, see-through bra, he stops altogether, stunned. He fondles the material, grazing over your soft nipples, at last reaching the embroidery of the small petals. He gasps in wonder, eyes flicking to your intimate parts to see if you’re wearing a matching set. 

The same flowers adorn the suppleness of your tummy. 

Jungkook smiles at his discovery. Is hasty as he drags the nylon of your tights down your legs, along with your knee socks. 

“I’ll decide how many times you come for me, then.” 

Heat pools in your femininity. There it is, the dominance that you love. Yet this time, it’s laced with his gentleness. Heaven on earth—a meadow full of flowers in the middle of summer. Like the ones on your lingerie. 

Joy grasps your heart. “Do I get to know before you start?” 

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss on your tummy. “What, you wanna count them down for me?” 

You asked just because, but the idea excites you. You nod. 

Your response prolongs the rumble of his laughter and you feel its vibration as he kisses his way up to your clothed breasts. You’d think he’d focus his attention on them, but he straightens—reaches for something behind him and retrieves your white knee socks. He bunches them in his hands and puts them on you as if he were dressing a child. 

Paradoxically, goosebumps spread all over your thighs. 

Smoothing the material over your thighs, he lies back down against you, lips latching on the spillage of your breasts that your bra gives him. While it feels dizzying, you still want to know the number. You poke him in the bulging muscle of his arm and in the process, you flush his cheeks red. 

Jungkook pushes your tits together and licks over the line in the middle. The sight of the shine of his wet tongue against it drenches your pussy, ruining your pretty underwear, and you want him there, on your sweetest spot. Your nipples stand to attention and Jungkook listens to their call, thumbs brushing across them. 

You mewl, grinding your hips against his stomach. 

“Two times when I eat you out; two times around my cock,” he answers finally, awakening your butterflies. “How many times is that, then?” 

Amidst the pleasure, you do the math. “Four.” 

“That’s right. You think you can do that for me?” 

You’re not sure. In fact, you’re not sure of anything—lost in his touch, in his energy. 

“I don’t know,” you say, truthfully, skimming his face for a sliver of disappointment in his features. 

You find none. Only tenderness—round, soft eyes, brown in the light he radiates, nose and mouth buried in your tits, sucking on the skin, making you feel good. 

“That’s okay. We’ll try together. Nothing bad is gonna happen to you if you don’t come as many times. Or at all. I promise.” 

Your chest clenches. You grab his face and kiss him, licking over his bottom lip before you slip your tongue inside. Jungkook grunts, rolls his own muscle over yours, tasting you, feeling you. He inhales sharply against you, once again taking charge of the kiss, taking each and every thought and negative feeling you had and crushing it to smithereens. 

He lifts you and switches places with you, sitting you down on his lap with your back supported by his chest. He roams his hands all over you—tits, tummy, hips, sides and thighs while he busies his mouth on your shoulder. As your eyes follow each movement, you notice the marks he embellished your breasts with and your arousal grows—so much that you take his wandering hands and hook them under the waistband of your underwear, guiding them down your thighs. 

There’s a change to his breath when his index and middle finger feels up the fleshiness of your cunt for the first time. Hard, raggedy and absolutely tormented. He glides those digits up and down your dewiness, listening for the squelching sound that makes his cock twitch beneath you. 

He moans onto your neck, nose tracing the column on its way to your ear.  “How do you touch yourself?” 

A sudden shyness overtakes you and you turn your head, needing to hide in his neck this time. You remain silent, the words lodged in your throat. 

Jungkook sees you. 

“Do you rub your little clit from side to side or in circles?” he questions, helping you answer. 

“I—I like both,” you whisper onto his skin, moving your hips so his fingers slip to your clit, the sweet spot where you need him the most. He grabs the back of your thigh and lifts it, spreading you open, meanwhile you chase the firmness of his fingers.

“Just like that, ride them,” he husks, eyes dazed, fixed on the roll of your pelvis. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” 

Head on top of yours, you nod, never ceasing your movement, transfixed, just like him, by the constant way the pads of his fingers fondle your clit before dipping between your lips. The heat of the summer tightens in your lower belly and it’s a desperate litany of begging what your mouth utters, despite the fact you’re not really sure what you’re asking for, but you let him hear it. You’re close, so unbelievably close, yet still have a road to walk on before you, and you close your eyes to feel the delight of his touch more deeply, only to find that you manage to do nothing of the kind. 

When you sense his eyes on you and by instinct you reciprocate his stare, that’s when you feel the depth you sought after. Mouth parted, pupils dilated, eyelashes a drowsy catastrophe, messy hair casting a soft shadow over the planes of his blissed-out face. You want to kiss him. You want to make him feel as good as he’s making you feel—

“Let me do it now,” Jungkook says hurriedly, sensing the nearness of your climax. 

“Yes,” you croak out, halting the movement of your hips—and ‘yes’ is the word that ripples out of your mouth a hundred, a thousand more times when he spreads you wider and rubs his fingers on your clit from side to side. 

He feels the pleasure in sync with you, accepting all of your yes’, twisting his face the moment yours does, quickening the rapidness of his hand once he switches to circles to carry you to your summer-breathed paradise. 

And when you come all over his hand, he slips two fingers inside your hole.

He stills the buck of your hips. 

You widen your eyes at the new feeling of fullness and, panicking and constricting around him, you look at Jungkook, who merely strengthens his hold around you. 

“Trust me,” he says, breathing heavily. He doesn’t move his fingers past his first knuckles; he lets you adjust to the size. Gives you a kiss full of tongue to distract you. “Does it burn?”

You begin to pant against his mouth, the high of your orgasm long gone. You’re uncertain to count it as one when it was so short lived, ruined by the sudden plunge of his digits. But much to your surprise, you don’t detect any burn in your walls that he speaks of, which you realize was his intention.

“No, it just feels a bit uncomfortable.” 

He kisses you again. You feel your lips go numb, eyes lidding at the pressure you feel as he sinks his fingers a little bit deeper and begins to move them sluggishly, your slick creating another ring for him around his fingers. You try to meet his thrusts as the visceral sensation of being filled by longer, thicker fingers settles within you and takes roots. You discover that movement is the key to parting the uncomfortable feeling and it steps to the side to let the pleasure walk forward.  

Jungkook presses his palm flat against your clit, guides the pleasure to envelop your body when he plunges his fingers deeper, past the second knuckles and fucks you in swift jerks. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan and he fills in the sound, expressing his fiery delight for you at the clench of your walls against him, accommodating for him, for his desire to stretch you out, so when he finally enters you, no pain comes to greet you. 

Deeper and harder—yes, that’s what feels good. You roll your body, becoming waves of the sea as wetness and the build up of pleasure—seafoam—is all your senses wrap around. 

“Feels good, baby?” 

His need to check in with you speeds up the nearing expansion of your orgasm. Pointer and pinky finger digging into the skin of your backside, you watch the in and out motion, the digits coming out wetter and wetter each time.

“Feels so fucking good. I’m gonna come. I’m so close.” 

It’s quicker. Way quicker than your first tiny orgasm. He slips in and out of you so smoothly—you’re obsessed with the sight, ravaged by it entirely. You grind your hips and fuck yourself back, picking up the pace but slowing down instantly when you feel yourself at the peak of your climax.

You want to prolong it. You love the feeling too much to end it too soon.

Jungkook stops your movements fully.

“I want to be the one who makes you come,” he murmurs. “I want to be the one who fucks your brain out. I want to feel you squeeze around my fingers. Fuck, I want it so bad.” 

His hand drifts to your neck just to hold you there, the other, the busy one, fingers you harder, your fast approaching orgasm blinding your senses. Your drenched cunt squelches around him, the sound so lewd it causes you to seek comfort—your hand flies to his on your throat, fingers wrapping around his wrist, the tip of your pointer reaching the fat bulb of bunny’s head on his ring. 

Harder and faster. A scalding fire burns you and you just take it. Loll your head back against his shoulder, giving him the space to grip your jawline. Flames grow closer and closer, leaving a layer of sheen on your body in its wake. You feel the sudden need to pee.

“Oh my god, Gguk—” Your muscles tense. Close, so close. “Gguk, Gguk—”

“What, baby? What’s the matter?” he husks, squeezing your neck once. “You’re gonna come for me? Gonna come on my fingers?” 

You nod quickly, too quickly. Flames of the sun, licking you. Flames of the summer heat. Just what you wanted. 

Jungkook opens your jaw, swirling his tongue around yours. “Let go. Come for me. You can do it, I got you—I got you. Come for me, baby, please.”

Obeying his desperate order, you do.

A small stream of your pleasure, a faint fountain, trickles out of you and into his hand. He gasps, in unison with your whimpers, and you’re transmitted elsewhere. The wildly colorful, blooming meadow on a hill, overlooking the languorous sea and he’s there. Reaches behind himself. Offers you his hand. The wind ruffles his black hair, sweeps it back and you’re giddy—as giddy as Bam, as giddy as you were in the moment the slid the white bunny ring on your finger—to take the last two of his slender fingers, the pinky and the ring, and sit with him by the edge of the cliff. 

“Did so well for me.” 

The whisper takes you back and you awake. 

You’re different. Incandescent. Of life, of stars and its light, of growing fondness for the man you sit perched on the lap of, whose fingers still remain sheathed inside of you. He changed you. Perpetually, absolutely. He changed you and made you into something new. Something that is softer, more elegant—smaller but assertive. Alluring and kind. Indisputably good. 

He fucked everything negative out of you with his fingers. Left the vast canvas of stars inside of you.

You’re no longer a plain spread of cotton, but a living, breathing artwork. His artwork.

Once he fucks you with his cock, you wonder what further internal changes are going to occur within you.

You feel a great deal of gratitude for him—and you want to reciprocate all that he’s done for you. You want to work hard at it. Spoil him. Make him whimper. You believe he deserves it.   

“You finger yourself often? How come you took my fingers so well, hm?” 

You’re panting, unable to speak. Absorbing the sharpness of the stars, acclimatizing to the change. 

“I guess you do, huh?” he deduces. “Good little girl, preparing herself for me.” 

For the life of you, you can’t catch your breath.

Jungkook kisses your cheek deeply. Pecks you on the same spot a hundred times, slowly taking out his fingers. Lets you see your slick coating his fingers and, softly, you gasp at the little ripples of wrinkles upon the tips of his fingers, mouth parting.

And then he sinks them into your mouth. 

His hardness twitches behind you and you moan, your daintily bittersweet taste making your head spin. And when you look at him, you’re met with the utmost pink-dusted adoration painted on his face. You kiss it, inhaling it, letting it flow into your system so it suffuses your bloodstream, letting him taste you. You may not feel your lips, but the sentient poetry of the stars begins to sing in you. His stars. You feel like a flushed floweret visited by a bee. Spent, but happy. 

Happy to be wanted.

Good, because he said you were.

As if internally intertwined with him, you feel the identical heat tinge your cheeks. 

He says nothing as he lays you down and spreads your legs back to the way they were. Though when he’s graced with the sight of your bare cunt in all her glory, his face says everything that his mouth isn’t capable of. Hunger and torture—lips agape, corners of the mouth shiny with the rush of drool and Jungkook wipes it away, then lowers his fingers to your clit, to your lips, becoming more acquainted with this intimate part of you that no one had seen before him. He traces your small hole, even going as far as to your other, tinier hole and you yelp, stopping his exploration. 

Jungkook merely chuckles, eyes darting to yours. “You’re so pretty.” You grow so hot that you think you must be on fire. “Especially there.” 

You mewl, shrinking, hands looking for anything to hold and finding his bunny plushie. You take her into your arms, inhaling a scent that could never be hers. You recognize immediately whose it is. 

Musk, vanilla, wood. 

The thought of Jungkook cradling her while he sleeps moves you and you pout. 

“How we feeling?” he asks, still caressing your fleshy cunt, dripping with dew. 

Overjoyed. Overstimulated.

Heavenly.

“Good.” 

A foxy smile. “How many orgasms was that, hm?” 

You don’t know where your shyness comes from and why it chokes all of the words you want to say. You bury your face in bunny for a moment, taking a breath to fight against it, so you can please him because that’s all you yearn to do. 

You open your mouth, but no words come out. 

Jungkook stifles a laugh and it makes you feel terrible. And it’s worse when he leans over to kiss you, turns his head at the last moment and faces bunny.

“Bunny, how many times did she come?” he asks her, offering her his ear to hear her answer. Looks at you. Widens his eyes. Gasps. “Two,” he mouths. Listens some more. Nods. “I know she thought she wouldn’t come at all. Crazy, right?” Then he lets out an endearing sound. “She said she’d believed you could do it the moment you said it. She’s so happy for you. How cute,” he coos. 

You giggle, the bridge in your throat loosening, light flooding you, over and over, until you think you can’t take any more of it. You feel so full, so happy and the sensation threatens to pour out of your tear ducts. 

It heals something within you—that he treats you like this at your most vulnerable state. Your inner child flares, the stars the strength that fixes her stoop, helping her arise, stand straight, stand powerfully. 

He smiles down fondly at you. “So what number are we at?” 

You hide your face behind your hands. “Two.” 

“What did you say? I didn’t catch that.” 

You drop your hands and with as much energy as you can muster, you repeat the number. 

He purrs, caressing your cheek. “Good girl.” As a reward, as if the praise wasn’t enough, he kisses you deeply. “Will you let me taste you?” 

You swallow his desire, but speak up your own, “I want to taste you first, please.” 

Jungkook hums, curses under his breath. He straightens and kneels before your form, fingers pinching the back of his T-shirt and pulling it over his body. You catch the sight of his broad shoulders, of each dip and muscle, and your irises grown in width. Him ridding himself of his clothes dishevels his hair and as he untangles his arms from the material, he smiles down at you, noticing your stare. 

He caresses the back of your thigh before his hand flies to his hard length. He palms himself once, then continues to undress—tugs his sweatpants down to his knees, though he doesn’t bother himself to fully take them off. The shape of him is more prominent through the fabric of his white Calvins, the bulge of his mushroom wet and pellucid, and you sit up, hand itching to touch him, to join his in making him feel good, but he cups your chin—forcing you to look up at him. 

He swipes his thumb over your lips. “You want it?” 

You nod. “So bad.” 

Jungkook curses again, the sound low and rough. 

“Touch it,” he orders and both of your hands listen, wrapping around his girth, squeezing beneath the head of his cock. The thickness of him makes you see the light of the stars that you sense fluttering feverishly inside of you. Your mind is too empty, too washed out by your orgasm, by the change that you don’t even think about how you’re going to take him. Jungkook hisses, tilting his head back before he looks down at you intently. “You did this before?” 

You’ve never seen one in real life before, let alone touched one.

“I’ve never let anyone get this close.” 

Jungkook strokes your pigtails. “How come you know what to do then?” 

Instinct or memory from porn you watched—you don’t know, it all blends together within the fuzziness of your mind. And you tell him.

“I watch a lot of porn.” 

Jungkook smiles coyly and it strikes you. You’ve never seen him smile this way before or, even, feel this way before. All you know from him is dominance, dominance and dominance. 

You release him from the confines of his boxers and repress your gasp. His ever glistening tip reaches just below his navel and the thickness of his girth obscures most of his pubic hair. Along with the sound of your surprise, you also have a hard time swallowing the saliva collecting in your mouth. 

“I want you so bad,” you whisper, needy eyes looking up at him. Shy, too shy to let your gaze linger at the most intimate part of him. 

He sucks in a breath at your words, hissing. And you need him inside of you all over again. 

Fuck fuzzines in your mind. You’re fuzzy all over. Wrecked with nerves, suddenly. Your hands tremble, hovering in front of his manhood. Jungkook covers them with his, soothing you, and guides you to his shaft. Wraps your fingers around him. Doesn’t let go. 

The feel of him under his supervision is slow. He allows you to take in every ridge of him, every vein—the softness of his skin, the warmth and the weight. Round after round, up and down, until you get familiarized with him. A trickle of his male essence drips down the side of him and your tongue instinctively darts out. Like your hands, Jungkook’s breath shakes and he anticipates your next move, despite the fact he’s in charge. 

He’s been patient all this time, giving you the time you needed. But that hardly applies when you have him in your hands, when you own his neediness. His whimpers while he waits coax your slick out of you, soaking the bedding beneath you and you can’t take it anymore. 

Neither, evidently, can he. 

“Baby, please,” Jungkook croaks out. Tortured, so terribly tortured. Grip tight and clammy around your hands. 

So vulnerable. 

You ache. 

You lick up a stripe of his essence on the side of his cock and Jungkook shudders. Shifting onto your knees, you show him the milkie on the tip of your tongue and Jungkook pulls your hair, tilting your head back. Kisses you nastily, licking into your mouth. Moans, lowly. Then, he holds his girth at the base and pushes your head. 

When you take him, a mewl ripples around the thickness of him. His eyes roll back and his grasp of your hair tightens, burning your scalp, adding to the fire. He lets you feel it out; lets you figure out what to do, testing your knowledge from the porn you’ve watched. And the tensing of his stomach divulges his strained effort not to fuck your mouth. 

You go slow about it. Swirling your tongue around that rosy head of his, along that delicious ridge, licking a flat stripe across that line of his slit. Getting to know him in all those intimate places, relying on your senses—on them to tell you what he likes. Your hand begins to move on its own, gliding back and forth in tandem with your tongue stimulating his sensitivity. You try not to think about how you can barely fit him in your mouth, because if you do—you’ll ruin his bedsheets. 

But then Jungkook hums in approval, sending a gush of wetness out of you and you whimper—you whimper at the worsening ache you feel, at the helplessness that pools in your system by being just so filthily wet and horny. 

He moves your hand faster. Breath jagged, bedroom eyes zeroing down on you. And then—

Jungkook moans your name. Over and over, clenching and unclenching his hand on the back of your head. 

“Don’t have to teach you shit,” he spits. “You just watch porn all day, don’t you? Naughty girl.” 

Losing control for a split second, he rams his cock into your throat—and you don’t panic, you don’t yelp. Instead, you groan. 

He pulls you away from him with a sharp tug. Kisses you harshly. Shoves you down into the pillows with one push on your sternum.

Bending you in half, he drinks your cunt. Lips immediately suck on your needy bundle of nerves and it’s so fast you don’t even know which part of you he’s focusing on because he’s everywhere. Clit, hole, clit, hole—sucking, licking. Alternating, alternating so swiftly and deliciously that you completely lose your mind. 

And then he lifts your hips and holds them in the air, wanting you to see what he’s doing to you. Like you, he darts out his tongue and teases you, hovering the muscle above your clit. Shiny, nimble, capable of doing unspeakable things to you. He watches as your pussy drools for him and he chuckles darkly. Tongue lowering to collect it, but unlike you he never does it. He lets the dew trickle down your skin. 

“Cute little pussy. So wet. Wetter than when I fucked it. You liked playing with me on your knees, didn’t you?” 

With your fucked out brain, you don’t think it’s taunting what he’s doing. You deem it’s just him reveling in what he’s able to do to your body—in the fact that he owns it, that he teaches it new things. The glint in his dusky, lustful eyes proves it. 

Jungkook drags a long stripe on your clit, making your eyes flutter closed and your teeth to sink into your bottom lip to cage in your moans. 

“Talk to me.” 

You can’t. You don’t know how to talk. 

He stares you down. 

No answer from you. Just hard pants. Pussy drooling. 

“I won’t play with you, then.” 

Panic. “No.” 

He cocks a brow at you. “No?” 

Silence. 

He begins to lower you down but you grip his forearm. 

“Jungkook.” 

Bent over above you, head low, he merely flicks his eyes to yours. Duskiness, such blackening duskiness in those orbs. 

“Beg.” 

All your muscles tense. Wetness gushes out of you. 

Lucky for you, that word he wants is the one you haven’t forgotten. 

“Please.” 

“Please what?” 

You groan in frustration. 

“Be nice or—”

“Please, lick me.” 

That dark chuckle. You feel yourself becoming obsessed with it. 

“Where?” 

A challenge. Your throat dries up. 

“There.” 

He shakes his head disapprovingly, making a sound that expresses just how much he didn’t like that. 

“Try again. Last chance, little girl.” 

The loving smile on his face says everything about how that threat is feigned. You hear it tell you—you have as many chances as you need. He’s merely encouraging you to step out of your comfort zone. 

And something about that mellow, hidden kindness gently ushers you to do just that. 

“Lick my clit, please.” 

A hum. A long stripe on that sensitive, thumping spot. A roll of his tongue forward and backward.  

“Like this?” 

You choke out a moan. 

“Yes, please.” 

“Or—” He blows on you, causing you to tremble. “Like this?”

He shakes his head against you briskly, not yet at a full tilt. Just like his, your body shudders in his hands and he tightens his grip on your supple hips. You can’t take it, the pleasure is overwhelming and—

“Look at me,” he orders and you open your eyes, immediately. “Like this?” 

Jungkook adds more pressure and rapidness to the movement, leaving you glazed sweetly in the sheen of his saliva. He moves your hips up and down on the firmness of his tongue and you scream, taking a strong hold of his hair.

“Oh my god, yes, fuck, Daddy—”

Shocked, Jungkook groans against your pussy, slowing down to ingest what your mouth has just uttered. It’s more than natural to call him by a title like this, instinctual, innate. It fits him so well and it drenches your pussy, your slick amalgamating with his liquid love. You’re certain he feels the rush.

Your Daddy. 

You roll your hips against his tongue. Dark and more dark, those eyes of his. Bottomless pit.

“Fuck yes, call me Daddy again.” 

The whimpers you let out are pathetic and Jungkook shudders at them, groaning. You whine the title over and over again, a verdant, dreamlike litany of your feminine sexuality pampered, cared for, supervised. Jungkook accepts the gravity of it all, each declaration propelling him to suck your clit harder, bruises forming on your hips from his deathly grip, black eyes never leaving yours, hypnotizing you. 

And when you come like this, it’s unification what happens. 

You’re bound to him and he’s bound to you. 

Daddy and little girl. 

Throughout your sexual experience today, you had a hard time accepting things but this—this is something that slept inside of you all your life and just now has been awoken to a flickering canvas of bright stars. You feel it blink, adjust to the piercing light, before it smiles dolefully—happy to be conscious, happy to be caressed.

Jungkook kisses you and takes his time. The taste of your femininity, the fresh coldness of your change, the strong wine of his desire. You’re drunk. You’re slurring your mewls. 

And one thing about unification, it’s a mirror. 

You swallow down the same mewls, uttered by his throat. 

“Daddy’s gonna give it to you,” he whispers, adjusting between your legs. “Will be gentle. You’re safe with me.” 

He rakes the tip of his length along the entirety of your little sea-kissed seashell. 

“You want it? You want Daddy’s cock inside of you?” 

Jungkook looks into your eyes deeply as he asks you that question, the tip ready at your significantly smaller hole. He peppers kisses along your jawline and chin. 

“I’m scared it’ll hurt,” you murmur, brows furrowed. 

He kisses your cheek, the corner of your mouth. 

“We’ll chase the pain away,” he promises.

Your frown deepens. 

“But what if it doesn’t fit?” 

You expect him to chuckle, but he does no such thing. He absorbs your worry by kissing you tenderly. Then he glances at your body. Remembers he never took off your bra and fixes his mistake. 

“You may be small, but you were made to take me,” he says and your heart skips a beat; you wonder if he understands the gravity of his words as they take roots within you, rising to bloom into splendid flowers. “Besides, my dick is tiny. You won’t even feel it.” 

It is so far from the truth that you burst into giggles. He laughs along with you—a mirror reflected. 

Stars and flowers. Sea and freshness. You were made to take him. You trust him. 

He kisses your breasts, licking over your nipple—but briefly. Holding his shaft, he asks if you’re ready. You nod, your fingers desperately searching for his and Jungkook notices. Sinking slowly inside of you, he grabs his bunny plushie and tucks her into the crook of your elbow. 

There’s a pinch of pain, blended with the feeling of discomfort as your walls stretch around his head. 

Seeing it painted on your face, Jungkook draws close, enveloping you and bunny in his heat. Pushes a little more in. You wail softly, the pain intensifying. Fear intermingles with your features and Jungkook—the worry in his countenance makes you almost weep.

“Hold onto me,” he says, brows scrunched, so—so serious. “Relax, baby. I got you.”

You hook your arms around his neck, bunny sandwiched between your chest and his. Jungkook saves this time to let you adjust around him. 

“I know it hurts,” he whispers onto your mouth, index finger, the ringed one, stretching to graze your cheek. “Just relax your muscles for me. It’ll feel good soon.” 

You nod, trusting him. 

He pecks you. Smiles. 

“How many orgasms are we at?” 

You roll your eyes, your own smile threatening your lips. “Three.”

Jungkook hums. Pecks you again. You feel your walls loosening, little by little.

A smug smirk. “You didn’t expect that, did you?” 

“You obliterated my expectations.” 

“Just wait until I fuck you properly.” 

You blush, eyes twinkling. 

“Pretty girl.” He kisses you and you feel your attachment forming again, though this time—newly. As light, as free as an entanglement of seaweed upon seashore, you and him. Connected. Bound. No fear, not even a hint of it. “I heard you watch porn.” 

Your flush deepens. Jungkook sinks a little deeper. A faint pain—nothing bad. 

“Who told you?” You laugh, the sound ridding you of your shyness. 

But Jungkook grows solemn.

“Tell me what kind you watch,” he whispers, angling his head to give you a tiny kiss. 

Your cheeks hurt from the smiling, from the onrush of emotions within you, sloshing to and fro. You feel hot all over.

“The one where all the focus is on the girl,” you whisper back. “The guy uses all kinds of toys on her and she just takes it. Comes so many times and there’s a countdown for it.”

Humming, he begins to nibble on the skin beneath your jaw, making your breath shallow. He pushes in another inch—and the pain is worse. You tighten your grip around him.

“And how many times do you come when you watch it?” Deep, deep is his voice, the calmness to your nerves due to the pricking you feel. 

“I don’t stop coming.” 

Jungkook swears under his breath and clenches his digits into a fist beside your head.

“And you finger yourself?” 

You nod, confidently. Another inch. He smiles at your confirmation of his deduction.

“How many fingers?” 

You scoff. “Just one.” 

“Well done,” he praises, kissing you once, keeping his mouth on you even as he asks, “ready?” 

You nod, again, even though there’s fright to your eyes. He sees it and he brushes his eyelashes against your eyelids while he kisses you, taking it all away. And he doesn’t stop, even as he pulls out and thrusts back into your heat. Gently, so awfully gently. 

He didn’t break his promise. 

Jungkook rocks his hips in slow, sensual, prolonged staccatos, moaning into your parted mouth. You’re so focused on him—on the bulging of his muscles on the either side of your head, the broadness of his shoulders, the slick sweat dripping down his neck, right from the top of his tattoo; on the sheerness of his pleasure as he moves in and out, carefully so as to not frighten you, that the pain quickly subsides. 

And there you feel it. 

The sensation unlike any other. 

He rams into you, seeing the wrinkle between your brows smoothing, the lust clouding your eyes as the delight spreads all over your body, bringing along little dots of goosebumps. The night sea, windless, still hot from the afternoon’s goodbye kiss. You feel it—and you feel it deeply, sinking inside of you with every inch of his manhood. So much that you meet his thrusts. 

“That’s it, baby. Fuck yes,” Jungkook murmurs, enraging the waves within. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Being fucked?” 

Stars and its light. He picks up the pace, hooking your leg over his shoulder, entering you deeper and deeper, giving you more than half. The thrill of feeling so full—you curse, you moan, you can’t hold it in, even if you tried. And Jungkook coos at your conveyance of the pleasure he’s giving you, never lifting his eyes off of yours, off of your features, your emotions. Surveying you, controlling you, making sure you’re okay—more than okay.

You sense the pressure coil deep within your core, the sense of your climax approaching and you’re astonished at how quick it is. You halt your own movements, needing—wanting him to be the one to get you there, the one who owns your orgasms. 

“Gguk, Gguk, fuck—”

“I know,” he breathes. “I’m gonna make you come all over my cock.” 

He fucks you harder, making you cry out. Deep, deep staccatos, so different from the slow, languid ones. You can’t catch your breath, the sea within you sloshes violently and then—

Softly, you sprinkle him with your fountain of pleasure. Not enough to drive him out, but sweetly enough to force him to groan against you and pound you harder into the mattress. Continuing as if you hadn’t come. 

You don’t have the time or the space to think about what just happened—he fucks each and every thought of you. 

“My little squirter,” Jungkook mutters, kissing you. “One more, baby. One more for me and I’ll paint you with my cummie. Hm, you want that?” You’re gone, flung out of this world into a tranquil island. The palm trees, the sea and his cock. Your emotions are numb, body limp. All you feel is his cock, ramming and ramming into you. “Or you wanna swallow it for me like a good girl?” 

“Swallow, please,” you croak out and Jungkook makes a sound of approval. Rewards you by giving you the full thing, filling you balls-deep. 

“You feel me?” He kisses you, tugging your bottom lip with his teeth. 

Glorious, glorious delight. You can’t breathe. Too much. 

“I feel you—” You lift your head to look down where you’re connected. “I—I feel you in my stomach.” 

Sitting back, he lifts your hips and palms the bulge just a little bit above your mound. Feels it move under him once he resumes fucking you. He replaces his hand with yours, keeping you distracted as he undoes the ribbon in your hair and ties your wrists with it. Right there above the bulge, where he fucks you. Then he latches onto your hips and jackhammers his cock into you, watching as your tits along with bunny bounce with each slam. 

“You look so pretty like this, tied up for me, taking all that I’m giving you,” he says, thumbing your clit, making you cry out. “Such a good fucking girl for me. I’m bringing you up so well.” 

“Daddy,” you call out and Jungkook nods.

“Yes, that’s right. Daddy is fucking you so good.” 

White flashes. Seafoam. The pressure in your tummy deepening and deepening. The roar of the night sea and your body following—you come all over him, painting him iridescent with your dewiness. His joggers, dragged halfway down his thighs, his boxers are all ruined—pelvis, thighs and cock glistening. It’s such a beautiful image to you that it suffuses you with energy and you begin to speak. 

“Please, come for me.” 

Surprised, Jungkook chuckles. “Don’t you have orgasms to count down?” 

The ever persistent need for control. You kiss him, slip your tongue into his mouth to shut him up and you struggle against your ribbon, for the feeling of kissing him without your hands makes you feel iffy.

“Five. I came five times for you just like you wanted,” you whisper. “You fucked me so good. I’ll never forget it.” 

And it’s the truth.

Jungkook pecks you once deeply, humming into the kiss. He pulls out of you and whilst he strokes his cock, his fingers tug down the ribbon around your wrists. You take your place on your knees, gazing with awe and hunger at his shiny length. And as if he needed it, he plunges his fingers into your mouth for more lubrication. Then, grabbing your jawline gently, he pulls you in towards his cock, letting your lips play with his tip the way you like it as he jerks himself off. You flick your tongue under the ridge of his head and his length twitches, stunning you. You do it again, more rapidly, and you don’t stop until Jungkook begins to tremble. Pulling him inside your mouth, then out, flicking faster and faster. Repeat. 

Jungkook grunts. 

“Yes, like that, princess. Fuck, I’m gonna come for you.” 

He announces it, but it still comes as a surprise when the first rope of hot cum spills onto your flushed cheek. You suck him harder for a moment before you stick out your tongue, eyes flick up, as he empties his balls for you, his hand never ceasing the swift tug on his length. 

And he just keeps coming. Rope after rope. Liquid star after star.

And you swallow it all. 

Spent, sweaty and breathless, he helps you swallow it. Dragging his fingers to the places your tongue can’t reach, he feeds you his cum and you suck on his digits. Your heart thuds in your ribcage, especially when he begins to play with your tongue, smiling down at you in that dopey way. 

He pats you on the cheek once you show him you’ve swallowed it all. 

“Good girl. Good little princess.” 

That you are. A changed person for all eternity.

“Is your tummy full?” 

You nod, beaming vehemently up at him, the aftertaste of the bitterness of his liquid stars still wafting through your senses.

The three forbidden words rise in your tongue, even though you don’t believe them—you think it’s just the opulence of new emotions and experience that forces those words on your tongue. But they remain adamant when he bathes you clean, when he brushes your hair and gives you his clothes to wear to bed. They provoke you right there on the tip of your tongue when he gives you his zipper hoodie to wear on his balcony once you tell him you need a smoke and he joins you, giving you his pack of cigarettes. 

And they come off the edge, in a different form, when you tell him of how he changed you while you hold his hand and he caresses your damp strands with a cigarette propped between his index and middle fingers, kissing your cheek. The smoke fixes a makeshift halo around both of your heads. One body, one halo. Bound.

“You’re such a lovable person, Gguk.”

What you don’t know is that those mere words changed the entire trajectory of his life. Yours, too.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist / read part one, read part two, part three

[wonderjanga]

can we get an April fools special please? :)

Marvel is impervious to pranks, including April Fools pranks. And it’s not because he can predict them or whatever… It’s because he doesn’t even realize he’s being pranked.

Marvel: *leaves a plate of Oreos and goes to get milk*

Flash: *speeds over and starts replacing the cream with toothpaste*

GL: *floats over* “Dude, what are you—”

Flash: *violently startles* “Wha?! Hal, don’t scare me like that!”

GL: “Uh… sorry. But still, what are you doing?”

Flash: “What do you think? A prank. Duh. It’s April Fools.”

GL: “It’s that time already?”

Flash: “Yeah! So are you going to help me prank Cap or not?”

GL: *floats down until he’s just standing* “Of course. Did you think I wouldn’t?”

After Switching the Fillings…

GL and Flash: *run off to a corner, giggling like little girls*

Marvel: *comes back with his milk and starts eating and watching a show*

After about a Minute…

Marvel: *still eating like nothing is wrong*

GL: “Uh… Barry, buddy, he does not look disgusted in the slightest. Did you somehow managed to pick a good tasting toothpaste?”

Flash: “No? It was just normal mint?”

Martian Manhunter(MM): *floats over* “Ah, Captain. May I have a couple Oreos?”

Marvel: “Huh? Oh sure! Take as many as you want J’onn.”

MM: *eats one* “Interesting. I don’t believe I’ve had these before.” *thinks it’s a new flavor*

Marvel: *thinks he’s talking about Oreos in general* “But I’m sure I’ve seen you eat these…?”

They munched on them together while GL and Flash watched from around the corner with disappointed expressions.

Later…

Flash: “Cap! Buddy, can I talk to you for a sec?”

Marvel: “Yeah? Sure, what’s up?”

GL: *slowly sneaks up behind him and creates a hand to gently put a ‘kick me’ sticky note on the back of his cape*

Flash: “Actually, I’ve gotta go.”

Marvel: “What?”

Flash: “Yeah, fun talk!”

Marvel: “We exchanged at best two sentences—”

Flash: “Bye!” *zooms off, grabbing GL*

About a couple minutes later, a cry of anguish reverberated throughout the entire Watchtower as Green Arrow, in all his wisdom, decided to follow the directions of the sticky note and kick Captain Marvel. He broke his foot.

Marvel: *absolutely horrified* “OH MY GODS ARE YOU OKAY??”

Billy honestly thought that was his own fault because he didn’t even feel the kick. Billy assumed he stepped on GA’s foot or something… he didn’t even know himself.

Even More Later…

Flash and GL: *gave him some fake scratch offs with the fake winning numbers*

GL: “Okay, we gotta have him now.”

Flash and GL: *in cheap disguises, following him to a corner store to watch him try to cash them in*

Billy was bummed that he didn’t get the hundred million jackpot, but the clerk did give him a free scratch off because he was a hero. And guess what? He got ten dollars. Isn’t that amazing!?

Marvel: *celebrating, holding his ten dollars bill*

GL and Flash: *watching him celebrate*

Flash: *squint at him* “Are you actually kidding me right now?

[mysterymachine67]

SO, i want you to hear me out.

i have to remember all my stuff for re, but let's say we have Leon when he's still just starting out as a cop before he even goes to raccoon city and our beloved reader is a captain in the police department. Leon is a little tired after it all, filing cases and spending nights at the station. eventually the reader catches Leon while he's finishing up documenting a case and they finally get to talking. sooner rather than later they discover they share a couple hobbies and slowly they begin to talk. Leon is stressed and who else but the captain of the station is going to help him and reward him for his hard work?

PAIRING -> Leon S. Kennedy x M!Reader

SUMMARY -> Leon’s new, a rookie. He does his best, stays late to do and catch up on work, and is one of the best men you got even for him to be new. What happens when he finally gets to have a full conversation with his captain?

NSFW. MINOR’S DNI.

I wanna bite him.

You’ve only known him for about a month and he’s already your favorite. Yes, you’re well aware you shouldn’t be picking favorites, but he stays late, gets papers done quick, and does things he doesn’t need to be doing until a whole month. Meanwhile all the other “older” cops think they get an extra week to do something just because they’ve been there longer. Which was not true whatsoever.

Back to Leon, you’ve spoken to him a bit. Probably not as much as you should, but the thought counts. As far as you know, he’s a hard worker and is dedicated to do his best. But you can also see that he try’s a bit too much. You’ll need to tell him he can take a step back every once in a while.

It was another night, Leon already knew he was gonna have to stay a few extra hours. Sighing he opened up a folder, taking out the notes and documents that were inside. He took a quick look at the papers, going over them yet again. Just as he was about to pull another thing out of the folder, he heard footsteps. Which immediately alerted him. Turns out the footsteps were yours, you were getting ready to leave the station and go home. With you standing there, looking at Leon without saying or doing anything, it was beginning to get awkward. Soooo, you spoke up. Clearing your throat first. “Well,” you begin, starting to walk up to him. “I think we haven’t fully gotten to know each other.” He stared up at you, blinking a few times before responding.

“Oh! Uh..” Leon started, but never seemed to finish. Not knowing what question to ask or how to start off. He stood up, though. Holding his hand out to shake yours, which you did as well. You then started a conversation, first asking a question then following up with a statement. Which this went on for at least fifteen minutes. The both of you going back and forth, asking questions about one another; finding out that you had some things in common and have similar interests. The conversation was sweet, interesting. Yet it took a turn when you got closer to him. It was friendly, not purposely meant to intimidate him or anything. He continued to look up at you, struggling to keep his composure. Why the hell was this so difficult? You kept up the conversation, tried to. You, yourself were starting to get a little amped up. You couldn’t stop stealing looks at his lips, which was a problem. You were his captain, not his fuck buddy.

The sexual tension between you guys was so obvious and strong, but neither of you made a move. That was until you couldn’t take it anymore. Your thoughts ran through your mind and eventually went down to your cock.

He was a stressed out, tired, hardworking man. If you two were to do something, this one night probably wouldn’t mean anything. He needed something—someone to help him. Being not necessarily pent up but in need of some sort of relief. And you were there with him, alone, in an empty police station possibly flirting with him. Yeah, this wouldn’t mean anything, right? Wrong. Things escalated, you moved things out of the way on his desk. Once in the clear, the two of you moved back. Lips connected while grabbing at each other. When he got close enough, he sat himself up on his desk. Hands then coming up to the sides of your face—holding while the two of you kissed. You angled yourself, pressing against him in a way that he could feel you’re hard-on. “Mm..” he groaned, muffled by your lips. Should he be doing this? Absolutely not. Is he going to do it anyway and savor this moment? Yes.

“Y’feel what you do to me? God—“ you huffed, against his mouth. “You work so hard—fuckin’ perfect.”

Leon whined, shifting his position so that he could wrap his legs around you and pull you impossibly close. His hands went down to your belt, starting to quickly undo it. After that was out of the way he started on your pants. Which in the process you bucked into his touch without even realizing. You captured his lips again, this time the kiss was nothing but tongue and teeth. The two of you needed each other so bad you kept messing things up. Fumbling with taking off clothes, knocking things over, accidentally forgetting to do something. But in the end, he still got your cock shoved into him as if he was gonna disappear within seconds.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

The sweet, sweet sounds that left Leon’s mouth were heavenly. Mouth open, eyes shut, and head back against the table. His legs were wrapped around your waist, purposely squeezing to pull you closer to him—get your cock deeper than it already was. “Such a hard worker, aren’t you? The moment you got here you worked, ‘n worked, ‘n worked.”

Leon whined, dick jumping and twitching at your words. He clenched around you—beginning to squirm. God, he was pretty. The way he reacted to your touch, praise, and whatever else you gave him. The sheen of sweat all over his body made him glisten in the dim light. Which just added onto the list of things that made him fucking beautiful. You dragged your hips back slowly, then pushed forward at the same pace. Your thrusts were slow, yes, but you made up for it by making sure you were deep inside him.

When you sped up your pace Leon cursed under his breath. The brutal pace catching him off guard.

“Shit!”

“Nothin’ you can’t take.” You cooed.

He breathed out a whimper—legs twitching. You leaned down over him, pressing your lips to his skin. His eyes were shut, it was all beginning to be too much. Your cock pushing into him at a relentless pace, your words, your touch. His dick leaked and throbbed—begging for some sort of attention. But it all felt good. It was something he deserved for working so much, so hard. “Oh- ohh..” Leon moaned. He clenched around you, gripping your cock. It caused a low groan to crawl from your throat. Your lips trailed up and up, pressing a kiss to his collarbone before sucking a hickey. Then moving on to his throat, forcing him to move his head up.

In a few minutes, Leon’s back was arching, his hands gripped the edge of the table he was on, and he was moving his hips up into the air as he came. Spurts of white shooting from his tip, and onto his chest; staining that area white. He huffed, chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. It didn’t help when you kept thrusting into him, even when your hips started to stutter and fuck up the rhythm you’d set. He began to squirm. A whine slipping from his spit slicked lips.

You moaned, hips jerking as you finally came. You filled him up with your cum, and watched as it soon started to leak and drip from his hole. He felt so full. Stuffed with your cock and your cum. “Fuck..” he whispered. It was silent for a few seconds, well, aside from you two trying to control your breathing. But once you got ahold of it, you leaned back down and whispered straight into his ear.

“We ain’t done.”

[revlw]

𓏵 CTRL//OBEY

YAN! ITRAPPED X READER

Warning : obbsessive behavior , yandere themes , stalking , worshipping , self aware , ITrapped.

Note : Please do not romanticize real stalking or abusive behavior. This is for fictional and horror purposes only. Art : @/MrMiao_Noir on X

You hear about ITrapped before you ever see him.

Rumors. Whispers. A name spoken in hushed tones by survivors in the campfire light. Most describe him with confusion. “He’s not like the others,” someone mutters. “Doesn’t chase you like a normal killer… doesn’t even look like a monster.”

He doesn’t. Not at first glance.

When you finally see him, it’s under flickering lights in a run-down hallway. A basic noob avatar, low-poly and harmless looking—except for that Ice Crown on his head, glowing faintly, coldly. He stands motionless in the dark, head slightly tilted, as if studying you. Not attacking. Not even moving.

Then he vanishes.

You think it was a glitch.

It wasn’t.

His obsession begins not with violence, but with access.

You start noticing strange things in your rounds. Generators you just touched regress by themselves. Doors that should’ve been opened glitch out and lock. Items flicker in and out of existence. But these things only happen when you’re nearby.

At first, it’s frustrating. Then it’s unsettling.

You complain to others, but no one else sees it.

Except him.

ITrapped always appears briefly—standing in the background of your match, not lunging at you like other killers, not roaring or hunting. Just… watching. Frozen. Calculating.

Eventually, the sabotage stops targeting you. Instead, it starts protecting you. He disables traps you don’t see. Breaks paths for other survivors—but not you. You’re allowed to move freely, untouched.

You haven’t done anything to earn his favor. That’s what scares you.

You’re not playing the game. He is.

You begin to realize he’s more than just a presence in the matches. He’s altering the game itself.

Somehow, your matches always start with him now. The map selection glitches until it favors the ones he prefers. Load-in screens freeze when you try to quit. Your inventory resets to a “default” version, and the only item that stays is a strange crown-shaped charm he leaves in your loadout.

Players who get too close to you start having issues. One survivor who stayed by your side the whole round disconnects mid-match and can’t rejoin the server. Another finds their controls reversed. One player swears their Roblox account briefly locked when they tried to message you about him.

Still, he never harms you directly.

When you’re injured, he lets you limp away. He never tunnels you. He lets you finish generators—if you’re alone.

You realize, eventually, that he doesn’t want to kill you.

He wants to isolate you.

The first time you speak to him is accidental—proximity voice, maybe, or a glitched chat prompt.

You don’t even know what to say, but you try: “Why are you following me?”

There’s a pause. A long one.

Then a quiet, unreadable line of text appears in chat:

“I used to fix broken things. Then I saw you. I don’t need anything else now.”

You feel a chill—not from fear, but because the message auto-deletes seconds later. Like the system itself didn’t want you to remember.

But you do.

From that point on, he no longer hides. He orbits you in every match. Other survivors grow suspicious. Some stop queuing with you. Others start blaming you when their matches glitch out. You’re alone more often now.

Which is exactly what he wants.

He never refers to you by your username. He calls you “buddy”—the way he once referred to Chance. The way someone might speak to a pet project, or a favorite possession.

You stop seeing him as just another killer. He’s no longer playing the game.

He’s rewriting it.

Your escape routes begin to vanish. The hatch doesn’t spawn when you’re the last one. Exits flicker with ERROR signs when you touch them. Sometimes, your screen goes black mid-match, and when it returns, you’re in a custom map no one else seems to recognize. He’s always there, standing still in the center.

“You’re the only file I didn’t want to delete.”

You can’t tell if he’s speaking in metaphors or literally viewing you as code.

Either way, you’ve stopped feeling like a player.

You’re Already His.

Eventually, he stops appearing to other players entirely.

Only you see him now.

You’re told he’s “disabled” or “removed” from the rotation, but he still shows up in your queue. You report it. Nothing happens.

One night, your screen boots up without you clicking anything.

The message appears in familiar black font:

“Game loaded: You + Me”

And when the round starts, you’re alone.

No teammates. No map.

Just him.

Just you.

Just silence.

And you could feel that he’s smilling.

@revlw 2025

[0coffeeplease0]

This is a request from zaniexcoffx1

New Doctor In Game

Forsaken Survivors + Killers x Medkit Reader

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Note: Characters will be ooc and I might make this a fanfic, probably when I am not very busy :d

Warnings: Swearing, death.

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Headcannons

Noob

•They were glad that there was a new survivor a healer at that!

•Noob thought that your outfit is very professional and stylish.

•They had tried touching your horns but was hesitant, they didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

•Is surprised at how you can heal others with your gun and damage the killers as well.

•Noob would sometimes be by your side, he likes the comforting aura you have.

•Tried offering you a bloxy cola, but you had turned it down because it was 'childish' they knew you were mature, but this mature?

•Noob will be forever grateful when you had saved him from dying first, he was about to get killed by Mafioso but you had stepped up and use one of your abilities "Fan The Hammer" as you called it.

•Noob would be very curious about why you wore the eyepatch, but they knew not to make such questions, they don't want to make their new close friend upset and uncomfortable by talking about it.

Elliot

•Was God blessing his soul? Will he no longer be worried about having to wait for his abilities cooldown go down? Will he no longer feel pressured now that you are here?

•He loves you, he is thankful that you are here.

•Elliot knew that you would also be targeted first by killers, but knowing that you can damage killers made him feel a bit of relief, but still, he will try to keep you alive.

•He would be very grateful whenever you heal him or stun killer who is after him, altho your ways of healing is rather intresting.

•When he had offered you a pizza you declined because it was to 'childish' for you.

•He forced you to eat it with the help of Noob, he can't have you dying of hunger now can he?

•Elliot would make some diffrient meals with you at times.

•Elliot is the only survivor who knows about your backstory.

Chance

•He loves you, big fat kiss for u.

•He loves that you have one certain ability to clear the debuffs he gets whenever he's flipping a coin.

•oh? He was weakness XX? He goes to you and asks you to clear the debuffs.

•He likes how elegant your outfit is.

•He will touch your horns, no doubt.

•Says that you both are gun buddies because you both have guns altho with different usage.

•He would sometimes flinch a bit whenever you shoot at him to heal him,.

•You can't stand him.

•Had somehow convinced you to switch guns it all went wrong because his gun had exploded on you and you had died, Chance well he did struggle with your gun, he doesn't know how you manage to headshot a killer or survivor while they are moving around.

•You both never did it again

Guest 1337

•He thinks that it's nice to have another healer.

•He would stay to protect you incase one of the killers decide to target you first.

•You both a decent team, he attacks, he is successful but if he isn't successful on the attack and gets hit you are there to heal him up.

•He is relieved to finally have someone mature and doesn't act so childish as some people he knows *cough* Chance, shedletsky *cough*

•He would talk to you, asking about what other abilities you had.

007n7

(I love this man fr♡)

•He would be rather surprised that you talk to him, even tho some of the survivors don't like him much.

•He knows Elliot does not like him so 007n7 wouldn't often ask Elliot for a pizza, but since are here and you don't seem to have anything against him he would hesitantly ask you to heal him.

•007n7 knows that you are a mature person bit why haven't you made a comment about his shirt? It's stupid-looking, perhaps you know why he wears it?

•007n7 would feel safe around you, he would be upset and sad whenever you land a headshot on c00lkid, he knows you to it for survival but he still feels upset in seeing his son hurt.

•You would apologize to him whenever you do barm c00lkid and he likes that you still know that he still sees c00lkid as his son even tho he is a killer.

Shedletsky

•He thinks you are good support.

•Would often team you up with him, Guest, or Chance because they need all the support and healing in case they fail to stun the killer.

•Shedletsky loves you after you had given him your piece of chiken to him when you got full.

•Shedletsky would probably hang out with you alot whenever the rounds ends.

•He is very grateful when you saved him from dying by the hands of...him.

•Shedletsky knows that Elliot knows something about you, he wants to know what it is but neither you or Elliot would tell him...

Builderman

•Builderman...knows about you before ending up here has has come across your documents, he knows that you like keeping things private so he acts like he dosent know you.

•Builderman would often stick by your side mostly because he feel he can build a few machines down while your near team to either damage the killer or heal if if he gets hurt.

•Builderman thinks you have some sense in fashion.(obv yall are divas and gentlemen)

Two Time

•They pushes your buttons asking you about why you have an eyepatch, or trying to make you join their cult.

•Two Time finds you intriguing

•They would be grateful that you are a healer and support.

(Idk what else 😭)

Dusekkar

•He likes staying with you, you're very calming to say the least.

•He thinks that you both would do great teamwork, Dusekkar is sometimes targeted first by the killers since he can protect the other with a shield, but you could stun the killer if he were to be attacked.

•Dusekkar knows that you are hiding your past, maybe you fear being judged? Maybe you just don't wanna bring back old hurtful memories.

•Dusekkar is glad that he is one of the few survivors you cand stand due to being "mature"

•He wonders how many abilities you have.

•He wonders just how your primal ability works, damages killers yet heal survivors even if it were the same bullets.

•He wants to know more about you.

Taph

•He thinks you are decent enough.

•You both would often hide from the others and talk in sign language.

•You would often share some tea with him.

•You both are mostly the 100% more mature of the group.

•You both don't see each other in rounds alot because of a few things, either being in a diffrient location.

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1x1x1x1

•they wants to break that stupid gun of yours.

•When he had met you when you had come to your first round he expected you to be an easy target, but no you were a big problem for them, you had managed to drain all of his HP with that stupid weapon of yours and your stupid ability, she feels weak and they don't like that feeling.

•Now she knows to dodge and run around whenever you are going to shoot him.

•He has informed about it to the other killers.

John Doe

•He hates you, you little piece of sh!t

•You are an annoyance, he will now try to kill you first, sometimes he does and sometimes he dosent.

•He thinks that your abilities are a bit to strong.

c00lkid

•When it was his turn he was happy but right before you could move he got shot one time on the head and then multiple times, still on the head, his HP had drained, he complained he whined, he threw a tantrum about it being unfair.

•He would warm up to you a bit when you give him a small little candy, sure he would still try to kill you, but if he does achieve to have you down on very low HP he would relieve a candy before he kills you.

•Calls you mom/dad because he starts to see you as his parent.

NOLI

•JUST HOW MANY ABILITIES DO YOU HABE, HOW ARE YOU MAKING SO MUCH DAMAGE TO HIM WHY ARE YOU GIVING THE SURVIVORS ALOT OF HP.

•Ragequits/jk

•He despises you, he wants to burry you 100 feet underground, you are such a nuisance.

Azure

•He doesn't like you, especially when you heal THEM when he was about to kill them.

•Would often leave you as the last man standing, I mean he does get curious about you so when he has you on hold he would start a small chat then kill you.

Guest 666

•they would target you first after you had shoot them and damaged them.

•No mercy.

•They think you are annoying.

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AWAWAWAWAWA ALRIGHT TIME FOR MEDKIT[NAME] STATS

Difficulty

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Hp: 130

Stamina:70

Stamina lost per second: 10

Stamina gain per second: 5

Ability 1

Curing Cartrige

"Stop moving around and let me be the doctor"-for survivors

"Quit being a coward and face the pain"-for killers

Fires bullet that can either heal survivors or damage the killers.

Damage/heal

6HP/-HP for body shots and 12HP/-HP for headshots

If body shot this will stun the killer for 2 seconds and give them slowness I if headshot it will stun the killer for 5 seconds and give them slowness II

Cooldown of 1.5

Ability 2

Fan The Hammer

"Take the rest and heal"-for survivors

"Die, die, die die."-for killers

Rapidly fires all remaining bullets, each bullet deals 6HP/-HP damage or heal

Killers will receive slowness V if far or slowness 3 if close

Cooldown of 15

Ability 3 passive

Crystalize

"Successful heal"

"Gotta heal up"

Everytime [Name] successfully headshots a killer, the nearest survivor with the lowest HP will receive 20HP if the lowest is [Name] the heal is only 10HP

Ability 4 Utility ability

Rejuvenation Ring

"Quit being near me the whole time"

Clears Debuffs from survivors but can only clear debuffs for 5 times before being unusable

(Almost like bobette from dandys world since she has a ring around to regenerating stamina but you guys have one around you to clear debuffs)

Ability 5

Crystal shift

"Let's see who is in need for help"

[Name] can use this ability to teleport to the nearest survivor if their health is low

Cooldown of 20

Ability 6

Divine Resurrection

"..."

Gives a burst of 15HP to the surrounding area and will give 15 Damage to the killer if they are close to the surrounding area cooldown of 60

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Ending note: I'm gonna abandon you all for the next few days buh bye

[littlepuppers]

A thought to add to that fantasy:

The owners end up having to go on a trip again a month or two later, and seeing as you did such a good job last time, they ask if you can watch him again for two weeks. Even though you really don't want to, they pay really well and you could really use the money, so you end up in their living room as they hand you the keys and head off on their trip, his snout pushing between your thighs before their even out of the driveway...

mmmm yesss i mean unfortunately i need the money and they pay so much bc he’s a big dog and eats a lottt so i have to keep dog sitting him.

as we’re in the driveway, i push his snout away from me and walk inside. i pour food in his bowl and get myself a snack. i remember not to bend over or lean down too much bc of what happened last time. and i wore that stupid skirt again. why?? because i have to be presentable for the owners, they know my parents and will report back or get someone else if i seem like i’m a slacker. anyway, i literally can’t ignore the fact that his huge dick is just out bruh like have some courtesy.

i’m there for a couple hours watching movies and chilling on the couch while he’s on the floor. I fall asleep to the peaceful sound of gunshots from an action movie.

OW WHAT THE FUCK. i wake up in a panicked state feeling claws scraping my thighs. i look down and this damn fuckin dog has his head under my skirt and is nuzzling my pussy rn, licking it way too harshly. wondered why i had such an intense wet dream. ewww disgusting i push his head away but he’s not budging, he muzzles deeper and is tongue goes inside me. it goes in wayyy too easily bc im fucking soaked. WTF buddy get out please..i feel his huge tongue lapping at my walls and my legs start shaking. fuck i’m like about to cum in a dogs mouth this is so sick. my thighs start tightening around his head, then he stops.

dude. what. there’s no way this dog just edged me. fuck off.

he gets up to leave but then bites onto my skirt and drags it up all the way to my face. i playfully bite onto it, taking it from him and giggle. but all of a sudden his paws pin down both of my arms and i realize what position we’re in. oh my god no no no no no NO.

his hips go down and he starts bucking them trying to find my parts. so gross please don’t, not again. i squirm trying to dodge his scary MASSIVE doggy cock. he then lays his upper body down on me, putting all his weight on and pushes harshly into me. FUCK. god what the fuck. he ruts into me in and out so fast and hard, it hurts. i think his cock is getting bigger…oh shit. noooooo no no. please don’t. i try to push his paws off my arms and he snaps at my face, i flinch away and tears start running. he licks them off my face while still pounding me. the squelching sound and my whimpers fill the room it sounds so fucking inappropriate. i feel his knot trying to get in “NO BUD GET OFF!” he pops it in and finally stops thrusting. the feeling is overwhelming and i cum immediately as it goes in. buddy whines and barks in my face. i feel his liquid flood me. fucking disgusting. im still sniffling from earlier but i take deep breathes while his knot goes down. he continues to lick my face till im ok. that’s kinda nice. but not nice bc he knotted me without permission. “no treats later buddy” i say and then he starts shifting his hips, i gasp as he slips it out of me. i hear the liquid drip onto the floor and feel it gush out of me. sweaty and panting, im still laid out on the couch, legs spread, and there’s a disgusting doggy cum mess all over my pussy.

fuck…i look down and see it left his huge puddle on the couch. great, now i have to clean it all up. i get up carefully and start walking when my legs give out. i collapse on the floor, my legs are too shaky to walk. buddy walks over to me and is sniffing me, especially down there. he whines. i think he feels bad and wants to clean me up. i slowly and carefully spread my legs and he puts his head down, licking up my thighs and on my pussy. fuck it’s sore and feels really overstimulated, but um, kinda good ig. his head comes up and he licks my face, spreading his cum on me GROSS. i push him away and he trots away, growing another hard on. i roll my eyes, glad that didn’t go anywhere. i get up, less shaky now, and go to get the cleaning stuff.

i clean up the mess and forgot about his cum, now crusted, on my cheek. gross. i wash it off and sit back on the couch, exhausted even more now. i refuse to sleep near him again. what a gross horny dog. what is his deal seriously. he lays on the ground near me and stares at me, panting, his red cock out on the ground as well. god, can’t believe i have three more days of bullshit.

IM SO WET WRITING THIS

[woso-dreamzzz]

In A Rich Woman's World

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: You're good at throwing money at problems

"It was a charitable donation."

You know the minute those words leave your mouth that it's the wrong thing to say.

You can see the way Alexia bristles at the implication. You didn't even really mean it like that. Not in the way Alexia had interpreted it to mean.

"We're not a charity!" She hisses.

You wince. "I don't mean it like that," You say quickly," I just meant-"

"You can't just throw money at my club and expect everything to go smoothly!"

"Ale, darling-"

"No! You just can't!"

You stand fluidly, taking three short steps until you're eye to eye with your girlfriend. "This whole debt thing worries you," You say bluntly," Even though you won't say anything. You think that it's what's causing players to not come to Barcelona. I've changed that. Now there's no debt."

"You can't just-"

"Throw money, yes, yes, I know which is why there's also a contract and I've agreed to be a shirt sponsor. More money to spend for the club."

Alexia falls silent for a moment like she's trying to find something else to complain about before a finger jabs into your chest. "I'm not happy," She says," But that was sweet of you. Thank you."

You shrug. "Would it make you feel better if I bought you a present too?"

The slamming of the bedroom door is all the answer you need and you glance behind you at the puppy in a carry case.

"Sorry, Buddy," You say," I guess she just doesn't want to meet you yet."

Alexia manages to stay angry at you for all of ten minutes before she stomps out of your bedroom, grabs your hand and drags you back in.

But then Buddy barks and Alexia's back to being angry, kicking you out of the room and taking the new dog with her instead.

This time, you're left alone for half an hour before she comes out again.

"Are you still mad?"

"You can't throw anymore money at the club anymore," Alexia says bluntly, arms crossed over her chest in defiance," And everything you do with the club, goes through an official contract. Strictly business only."

You nod. "I can accept that."

"And the dog?" She grumbles," He's cute. Thank you."

You grin. "Of course, my love. You can take him to training. The breeder says he's going to need a lot of exercise."

"Excellent. You bought him. You can walk him."

You frown. "Wait...Hey-"

"You bought him," Alexia reminds you," So his needs are your responsibilities and I'll take his love."

"Babe-"

"That's my price."

You groan. "Fine, yeah. I'll walk the dog."

"Good."

So you do.

You pay off Barcelona's debts. You end up as a shirt sponsor for the team. You walk the dog - once in the morning before your meetings and once in the evening before dinner.

"Look at you." Marta jokingly whistles as you come walking down to tunnel towards the team. "Going for a business meeting?"

You're dressed in your usual black suit, tailored to fit your body perfectly right down to your shiny dress shoes. You wear little jewellery apart from a stupidly expensive watch on your wrist and a silver chain loosely around your neck.

Your hair is slicked back tightly with your usual 'don't you dare fuck me over' expression on your face that you usually wield in the meeting room.

"If only," You say wistfully, allowing the smallest of smiles to appear before wiping it from your face," Where's my fiancée? Still showering?"

"She'll be out soon," Marta assures you, patting you on the back before she turns," This is y/n. She's Alexia's fiancée. Y/n, these are some of the girls that have joined us from the B team."

"Nice to meet you," You say, head dipping in greeting politely before you straighten up again quickly.

"You're waiting for me here?" Alexia asks as she comes out of the locker room, pressing a soft kiss to your lips," I thought you were going to get the car?"

"The driver's waiting for us outside," You say, checking the time on your fancy watch," I was thinking we could go out for dinner. I got us a reservation at that seafood place you like after you scored."

Alexia rolls her eyes. "And how much is that costing us for such short notice?"

You grin. "Costing me, my love," You correct her," And nothing I can't afford. You only deserve the best, after all."