#and he's so fucking old he's like 18 how was a 5 year old supposed to know he'd live that long when our dog before him died at 10

[tddyhyck]

sudden urges [ l.dh ]

pt 1 (can be read as a stand alone)

pairing ⇢ enemies with benefits!haechan x afab!reader

warnings ⇢ 18+, car sex, squirting, wet & messy, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, oral (m receiving), light nipple play (kinda), food play (ig), unprotected sex, oppa kink, crying, mean names and pet names, pussy slapping, hair pulling, cheating/affairs mentioned, creepy old man mentioned

word count ⇢ 6.9k

playlist ⇢ red line_5sos / turn your phone off_pinkpantheress & destroy lonely / sweet as sin_ten / bite_troye sivan

a/n ⇢ how do we feel about 1 more regular part and then maybe a part from hyuck’s pov?? also, in my world hyuck is the readers oppa so it’s not really a kink all the time

masterlist

you didn’t want to call him but you didn’t really have anyone else who you could call. well you did but he was the first person you felt like talking to. which wasn’t how it was supposed to work. shivering on the curb while your finger hovered over his name on the screen. sighing you tapped it crossing your fingers and toes that he picked up.

“hey,” he whispered lazily as if he didn’t pick up halfway through the first ring.

“uh hey,” you poked at a hole in your tights.

“miss me?”

“can you come get me?” you blurted before he could even finish. the line was silent for a moment then you heard rustling.

“send me your location.” you breathed a sigh of relief, shoulders relaxing as you pulled the phone away to send a quick message. the line was still silent while you waited for it to say read.

“what are you doing over there?” you could practically see his face, eyebrow quirked up and jaw tense big brown eyes staring through you.

“just had to drop some papers off.” it was half true. you did ride the bus over and drop off a stack of papers to your professor.

“that’s all?”

“stop interrogating me, goddd,” you groaned, tugging the hole on your tights, ripping it more. “i’ll tell you when i see you.”

“i’ll be there in 5 i guess.” you heard keys jingle.

“i’m on the sidewalk near building F,” you offered.

“he just made you wait outside? what an ass can’t even drive you home and leaves you to sit outside in the snow?” haechan grumbled into the phone.

“he uh,” you pause realizing how bad it was about to sound.

“wife?” he simply asked. you’d only talked to haechan before about it mainly because he always pried and because you didn’t want lectures from everyone else. there wasn’t a desire to make him like you so you didn’t hide the bad things from him.

the professor was married and you knew that from the beginning, but he had swore they were separated. you believed him until his wife invited half the department to a dinner party where she flashed heart eyes and he doted on her. it made you sick, she was maybe a few years older than you while he pushed retirement.

it wasn’t that you felt obligated to agree when he asked but he was the one giving you credit hours and promising to write recommendations. when he first approached you it made you feel special and admired like you were a four leaf clover picked in a field. now it didn’t feel so special when you realized he did this all the time.

“unhuh,” you murmured. the line stayed silent and you could hear him turning on a blinker “thanks for coming. i didn’t want to bother anyone, they're all so stressed and losing their minds over that exam.” it wasn’t a lie they were prepping for an exam, but for some reason you wanted him to distract you with banter.

“i took the bus though you know, and brought like the biggest stack of papers i finally finished grading. but it stopped running- the bus, guess it was the weather.” you tried to fill the silence rambling on about nothing.

“didn’t think i would take so long, but i had to bring them by i dunno why he makes me. it’s so much easier to just file them away in the office but he always has me come by so he can check them. like i’m incompetent. i wrote the key so i would know.”

“because he wants to fuck you.” haechan mumbles.

“huh?” you ask.

“i’m here.” he pulls into the parking lot and hangs up. you shiver when you stand up before he pulls up in front of you. opening the door you slide in savoring the warmth.

“what did you say?” you question before putting your bag down.

“i said he wants to fuck you. that’s why he makes you bring some bullshit papers.” he rests his elbow on the window leaning his head on his hand looking at you lazily. he turns the heat up while you buckle your seatbelt.

“i know that but he won’t give me the credit unless i bring them by,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest.

“that’s so fucked up. you should report him.” he eases off the brake pulling away from the sidewalk.

“it’s not a big deal.” you sigh still picking at the hole on your leg. “it’s just sex.”

“is he better than me? actually if he is don’t tell me,” you roll your eyes hitting his chest.

“shut up,” you shift in your seat.

“well is he?” he smirks, coming to a stop, looking over at you, hands low on the steering wheel. you shrug but he can read the answer on your face. he reaches over, snapping his fingers in your face and pointing to his own.

“i asked you if he fucks you better than me,” he emphasizes.

“no,” you mumble, looking away again. you know he’s smiling to himself gloating.

“where do you wanna go? are you hungry?” you shrug in response, cheeks pink from your admission. “ice cream?”

“can we eat it at the park?” you ask perking up at the thought of a cool and creamy sweet treat.

“of course.” he turns the wheel heading to your favorite ice cream spot. “can’t believe you want that when it’s like, negative degrees.”

“my love for ice cream is greater than my desire to be warm. plus we’re in a car you have heat we’re fine.”

“can’t believe he made you sit out in this,” he motions with a hand to the sky. grey and dreary, clouds full of snow and sleet that had been spilling periodically throughout the day.

“she would have seen me.”

“well he should have thought of that before asking you to come over. what if you get sick or hurt or someone snatchesd you. then who will grade his papers?” you roll your eyes at his dramatics. he pulls into the familiar parking lot, the neon sign bright but missing the i-c-e so it just says “homemade cream.” he pulls in behind a car already waiting at the window.

“probably some other pretty but stupid girl. it doesn’t matter i’m fine and you picked me up.” you grin nudging his shoulder. “did i wake you up?”

“well not exactly i was going to nap but then my phone rang and this hot girl was on the line all like ‘oppaaaaa please can you come get me from this evil villains house and take me for ice cream and can you pay for it pleaseee ooooppa.’” you gawk at him mimicking your voice quite well for what it’s worth.

“i do not sound like that,” you groan, hitting him again.

“you kinda do though,” he grins, releasing your wrist.

“so you think i’m hot?” you smirk teasingly lean close to him.

“no i just hang out with you because of your personality,” you hit him again, but he grabs your hand when it meets his chest. you rip away before he can interlace your fingers.

“if you keep hitting me i’m gonna hit you back and that would look bad to future employers.” he turns away as you smile, listening to him give the order. strawberry on a cone for you as always and a hot coffee for him. when the worker leaves you lean forward chin on his shoulder.

“i like it when you hit me sometimes,” you whisper. you swear you can feel the hair on his neck stand up. “you know down there.”

“shut up,” he nudges you away before the worker brings his card and receipt then leaves again to make the order.

“just being honest, oppa,” popping the p sound before running fingers over his knee. he jerks, bouncing the leg and brushing your hand away. you huff, air blowing on his ear making him shiver. the window opens and he grabs your ice cream, passing it to you before he grabs his drink with a thank you.

“mmmm,” you moan when you taste the ice cream. sweet and creamy and perfect.

“look at the sign,” pointing to the burnt neon with a grin.

“you know a thing or two about homemade cream,” grinning he taps your leg.

“and you know a thing or two about begging for it.” you smile to yourself, leaning back in the seat crossing your legs.

“begging seems dramatic doesn’t it?” he questions. you grab your phone ready to find the familiar voice memo he had sent you. you up your volume fully before pressing play.

‘heyyyyy, i’m like so fucked up right now,’ he tries to grab your phone as his voice plays from it. ‘i’m walking to your place at least i think i am. fuckk- are you even awake. i’ll sit outside, i don't care.’

“turn it off, oh my god,” he groans, one hand clenching on the wheel while the other presses against his ear..

“nuhuh.”

‘i had a dream about you. i think it was a dream i don’t know. um, wait but there was you, you were there and you finally rode my tongue. i want you to so bad. you’re too freaky to not ride my face at least once. do i need to beg on my knees for it?’

“you’re evil,” wincing as he hears his slurred voice playing back.

‘if i do will you? please. you taste so good and fuck - like so good. now i’m thinking about it. getting hard like a loser over thinking about pussy.’

“i sound so pathetic.”

“yeah you do. it’s hot.” grinning before taking another swipe at your ice cream.

‘shit - anyways uh i’m coming over i know you’re alone. at least i think you are… what if you have a guy in your bed. i’ll jump out of your window then when you look at him you’ll get sad. that’s fucked up but i want you alllll to myself sometimes.’

you turn the audio off before he starts professing his feelings. you’d never talked about the last few minutes of the voicemail. a quiet acknowledgment of the open secret between you both. you weren’t actually sure if he remembered all that he said.

that night you’d opened the door to him on his knees begging for you, but he fell asleep on your couch 10 minutes later with a silly look on his face.

“i still want you to ride my face,” he admits.

“you’re obsessed with eating pussy.” you laugh into your ice cream.

“is it such a crime to love your pussy?” raising his hands after parking in your usual spot turning the car off.

“we’d all be arrested if it was.”

“we can share handcuffs.” he offered a wrist to you and you held yours next to his.

“not the first time,” you tease as you pull away. you tug the lever beside you leaning your seat all the way back and kick your feet up on the dash.

“hey hey no shoes on my baby i just got her detailed,” he scolds grabbing your ankles and lugging you off. groaning, you lift your feet and rest them over his lap.

“yeah i didn’t care about these sweats anyways,” he deadpans looking at your shoes.

“they’re not muddy,” you say, pulling your legs away before reaching down to pull the shoes off. you put your now shoeless feet on his lap again and he doesn’t complain. silence settles for a moment aside for him sipping his coffee and you licking your ice cream contentedly.

“how long are you stuck grading his papers?”

“eh maybe two months. i hope he gets sick of me before then.”

“unlikely.” he mutters to himself, reaching up he fiddles with the sunroof, opening the shutter letting in the orange glow of the street light.

“do you think his wife knows?” he turns his head at your question. “she’s got to right? he probably did the same thing to her too.”

“do you want her to know?” the ice cream is melting too quickly.

“maybe. i don’t know. what’s better? it would be best if they were in an open relationship and she knew but was okay with it.”

“well that’s best case,” he leans his own seat back looking over at you at eye level.

“worst case?”

“she knows and hates you?” he suggests, making you groan.

“she’s so sweet too. fuck, i’m so terrible.” you close your eyes not wanting to look at his.

“he’s a manipulative geriatric asshole and you were vulnerable and naive. he’s terrible for taking advantage of all these girls.” he reassures, patting your arm softly. a weird moment of humanity between both of you.

“i’m not going over again.” you announce.

“good girl,” he pats your head now.

“don’t do that.”

“what?”

“be nice.” he laughs a real full belly laugh and it makes your stomach twinge weirdly.

“i’m soooo nice.” he looks up out of the car sunroof.

“yeah and i'm a worm,” you roll your eyes and his hand slides over your leg he laughs again

“you think i'm mean,” he pouts, poking your leg.

“name one time you were nice to me?”

“hmm,” he pauses a finger tapping his chin before he leans over cupping your ear to whisper. “what about the time i made you cu-“

“lalalala i can’t hear you,” you cut him off, pushing his face away.

“you need new tights,” still smiling as he prods at one of the holes in the sheer material covering your skin.

“you don’t think it gives me an edge?” lifting your leg slightly showing off the ripped black fabric.

“you don’t need an edge, you're mean enough.” you fein surprise trying to kick him but he grabs your leg before you can. squeezing your thigh when he pulls it against his warm body.

“you think i’m mean?” you copy him.

“i can name at least 100 instances.” you roll your eyes. “ok, just one?” he grins over at you before saying.”probably when we met and you called me the hunchback of notre dame.”

“but it made you work on your posture.” you point out. he nods in response. “you were just as mean, i only said that after you said i looked like helga from hey arnold.”

“you were wearing that same pink outfit,” he defends.

“i was a powerpuff girl,” you grumble.

“how’s the ice cream?”

“devine.” he’s looking over at you with big stupid brown eyes. staring back at him you lick over the remaining creamy treat. swirling over the cone collecting the pink cream on your tongue. you’re being overly provocative letting some of the ice cream slide out of your mouth and onto your lips.

“if it’s so good don’t let it go to waste.” thumb brushes over the drip, swiping it into your mouth. you don’t hesitate to suck the melted strawberry off of his finger moaning at the taste. he pulls away spit sticking to his thumb before he licks it. he’s so disgustingly gross and sexy it’s annoying. what light that shines from the sunroof makes him look too golden, too delicious, too warm.

“so sweet,” he sighs. big brown eyes still watching you when you wrap your lips around what’s now a sad hill instead of a full scoop.

“can i have some?” before you can answer he leans in grabbing your face pulling you to meet him. his tongue laps into your mouth collecting the cool sweet liquid. it makes you burn, hot cheek in his hand as he leads you. turning your head to deepen the kiss. the melting treat drips over your fingers as his lips melt into yours.

using the hand that is still on your leg, now gripping the flesh, he pulls you over. settling you on top of him, mouths still open exchanging hot breaths and spit. pulling away you sit back feeling the bulge pressed against you. catching your breath as you look down at him, lips red and puffy, eyes dazed. you press a finger to them to see how soft they are and he licks your digit.

“do you want some more?” moving to switch your hands. bringing the pink sticky fingers to his lips. he sucks them greedily, tongue splitting your fingers licking between them lewdly. watching as you grind against him, knees pressed tightly on his sides while he holds your hips. trailing your fingers from his mouth you slide them over his lips and down his chin. slippery still from his spit you move them finger painting his neck.

“did you fuck him?” it catches you off guard but you keep your fingers on his neck feeling his pulse under them. “like today did you?”

“no. he-“ you pause, deciding if you should share. “he came in his pants and then his wife called.” haechan laughs hard, making you shake on him.

“what a fucking loser.”

“why do you ask?” you bring the messy cone to your mouth again tasting what’s left.

“i don’t want to sound weird.”

“tell me,” you pout bouncing on him. he groans, squeezing your hips to stop you. you can feel his growing hardness against your inner thigh and it makes you clench.

“is it jealous if i say i don’t want to fuck you if he just did. i don’t want my dick near his.” he offers.

“who said we were going to fuck?” raising an eyebrow at him.

“please, mommy,” he whimpers, sitting up face in yours, clasping his hands making puppy dog eyes.

“stupid,” you mumble, pushing his face away, head hitting the seat with a thud.

“can i be honest?” he nods eagerly, hair bouncing against the headrest.

“i don’t even know the last time we did. he keeps nutting before i even get his pants off. plus it’s kinda small, no hate to the micros but like,” you pause using your finger to measure around 4 inches.

“it’s not doing anything.” he’s giggling under you again, this time his cock pressing against you with each shake of his body. you can feel the wetness slipping from you pooling in your tights.

“god, how can a guy like him be married and seduce beautiful young women while having a fast finishing micro. double homicide but he gets rewards.” he shakes his head.

“money,” you rub your fingers together.

“so i’m bigger?”

“obviously.” you roll your eyes finishing the last of your ice cream at least what hasn’t turned to soup.

“so let’s see.” you lean back putting the cone in the spare cup holder. he peaks under your skirt noticing your lack of panties.

“see what?” you watch him stare between your legs so you flip the skirt up for him. “this?”

“don’t distract me.” he closes his eyes, pressing his head back. “i can fuck you better, have a way bigger dick, and buy you ice cream.” he counts each “pro” on his fingers.

“what’s your point?” reaching for his lifted fingers you pull them to your core rubbing them over your tights.

“just that.” he pauses moving his fingers against you letting the seam of your tights brush against you cunt. “i’m a much better option.”

“like to date?” you laugh loudly but continue grinding down seeking more of his touch. you don’t catch the way his eyes dull at your reaction. the idea of him being more than whatever he was to you a joke. he could still dream and dwell on you for hours and days and weeks.

“ew no, just to do these activities,” he replies his other hand slithering over your ass.

“yeah we hate each other, remember?” you smirk down at him as he grabs your ass kneading the flesh.

“oh yeah sorry. don’t let me forget how much i despise you.” he groans pressing the tips of his digits against the tights. moaning when the seam catches against your clit again, you grind down.

“wouldn’t be so fun if we liked each other, or something.” breath catching in your throat as he swirls around your clit. you don’t see the way he looks up at you when you say that. he wonders if you can tell. it makes him mad the way your so oblivious to his affection for you.

“yeah people who like each other don’t do this.” he moves his other hand to your center, gripping the tights and yanking. the middle seam tears easily exposing your cunt to the cool air of the car.

“haechan,” you squeal. “i liked these.” you pout slapping his arm. he keeps going sliding his fingers between your lower lips, collecting slick.

“i told you.” he pauses a finger teasing over your entrance, tapping your waiting hole. “you need new ones.” he fucks a digit into you hard. you whine as he begins to flick his wrist curling the pad of his middle finger into you.

“but i liked these,” whining and digging your nails into his shoulders.

“you can keep them.” his fingers are fast moving to curl against your sweet spot. “wear them for me.”

“i hate you,” voice shaky as you grind down, his palm pressing against your clit.

“i know,” he leans up, lips ghosting over your neck. using his other hand he unzips your oversized hoodie making you shiver.

“i do. fucking hate you,” you moan when he bites your now exposed skin. you grab his hair in response, tugging him away.

“tell me all about it baby, let it out,” he looks up at you. finger working faster in you.

“hate when you look at me like that,” you whimper, closing your eyes, savoring the ghost of his thumb over your clit.

“what about this?” thumb rubbing circles around you swollen bud while his finger continues curling inside of you. grip tightening on his shoulder and in his hair with a gasp.

“hate it,” peeking down watching his wrist flicking fast and hard. your tummy tightens hearing the squelch of your cunt filling the car.

“and this?” he has that grin on his face watching you melt in his hands like your ice cream when he adds a second finger.

“so much,” you whimper. “hate it so much.”

“poor baby. let it out,” he licks over your neck nibbling lightly at the bare skin. the heat spreading over your tummy feeling the knot tightening. so close and you want it.

“hate me so much you’re gonna cum?” he tuts. you hate him you really do. his hand slithers pulling the top of your camisole down letting your breast spill out. squeezing the flesh before pinching your nipple. clenching around his fingers at the tug of his pointer and thumb on the hard nub.

“you think about me when you’re alone, don't you?” he questions, thumbing your nipple and clit at the same time, sending shockwaves through you. “gushing in your panties when you think about how much you hate your oppa?”

“fingering your cunt wishing it was me?” his words make your toes curl more than his fingers. you’d never admit it to him, your mind trailing to him when you can’t sleep. opening yourself up imagining he was there telling you dirty things. your vibrator is fine but he’s so much better.

“or do you hump your pillow thinking about me? it’s not as good is it?” you shake your head mouth opened gasping.

“leaves you wanting more? wanting your oppa’s cock to help you.” his words pull you closer. you bounce on his hand chasing the release.

“moaning for your oppa all alone.” leaving open mouth kisses along your neck when he whispers, “gonna let it out for your oppa?”

“hate you,” releasing onto his fingers with a whine cunt tightening around them. your fingers tug at his hair and he moans into your neck slowing his hand but still slowly pumping into you. thumb still swirling around your nipple when you look down watching the slow flick of his wrist and see the wet spot on his sweats.

“don’t tell me you came in your pants too?” you tease, breathily.

“all you, sweet cheeks,” pulling his fingers out sticky string connecting to your pussy as more slick dribbles out onto the grey material. he brings them to his lips savoring your taste on his tongue. his other hand falls from your chest settling on your tummy rubbing circles with his thumb. your tit still hanging out as you release the grip you had on him your fingers quickly find his waistband. pulling down the fabric you release his cock.

“no panties?” looking up at him grinning as he leans back head resting on his arms.

“i was trying to be fast.” you take his cock in your hands pumping the length. pushing your ass back to bend down and take him in your mouth. he hisses between his teeth when you wrap your lips around his tip. bobbing your head he reaches down to brush your hair out of your face. you pull back releasing him before spitting messily onto his cock.

“fuck,” he groans as your hand speeds up using your spit and his precum to glide over his length. you look up at him through your lashes watching him bite his lip. he stares back at you, before taking him back in your mouth, sucking him slowly.

“you’re so fucking hot,” gripping your hair with his voice raspy. “i hate you too,” his hips buck when you laugh, mouth vibrating around him. continuing you bob your head letting his cock bump the back of your throat when your nose touches his pelvis. you linger swallowing around him.

“fuck fuck fuck,” he groans, using your hair to pull you away. releasing his cock with spit dripping out of your mouth onto his pants. his chest heaves your hand lazily pumping his length. you wipe your mouth before sitting back up. you wiggle forward on him sitting so your cunt presses against his member.

“do you have condoms,” you turn rummaging in the glove box.

“maybe,” he mumbles, watching the way the head of his cock disappears between your folds.

“bro,” you lift a pair of your panties from the box.

“oh yeah you left those,” he says nonchalantly, holding your hips dragging you over his cock. rolling your eyes, continuing to look, attempting to ignore the hardness bumping your sensitive clit, searching for a foil packet but only finding ketchup.

“can we just do it raw?” you side eye him contemplating. “i’ll pull out.”

“it’s gonna be messy.” you sigh, shutting the compartment.

“you like it that way,” his eyes are staring between you. you're grinding on him without his help so he moves his hand to spread your pussy watching the slick coat his member. a mischievous look on his face when he tugs at the ripped tights opening them more.

“hey,” you shriek, slapping his hand. he doesn’t flinch, hands laying across your thighs as he moves his thumb to lift the head of his cock against your clit, groaning at the pressure. you keep your pace hips rocking back and forth. you grip the hem of his shirt pushing it up on his chest.

“shit,” he whimpers, precum pumping from the slit as he grabs your hips to stop you.

“up,” you lift yourself shimmying forward. he holds himself guiding to your entrance and lifting his own hips while you slide down. you groan in unison when you sit fully. you don’t move for a second savoring the fill of his cock. but his impatient hips jump, jostling you over him, making you double over.

“fuck,” you whimper leaning over him hands under his shirt, your hair falling in his face. you push against him, nails digging into his skin and start riding him. ass slapping against his grey sweatpants any sound muted by the fabric. the head of his cock bumping your sweet spot with every bounce.

he reaches around gripping your ass using what’s left of your tights to move you up and down faster, deeper. moans fill the car along with ripping fabric beside the building steam.

“so deep,” you whine. he leans up, hips meeting yours, face now only centimeters away. you shriek when his hand slaps against your ass.

“like it when i hit you down there,” he repeats your stupid comment from earlier has him hitting your skin again. he grips your tights pulling you up and down on him.

“i meant,” you lean away pushing on his chest for leverage with one hand the other going to your clit. “here.” you wince slapping softly over your sensitive bud.

“let me try again,” his hair falls in his face and he leans into you. his mouth latching onto your nipple and slapping your clit harshly. you shake overwhelmed by the suction on your chest, repeated hits to your g-spot, and slick fingers thrumming your clit.

“there?” he asks, releasing your nipple while still tonguing the bud. you nod furiously, tears building in your eyes overwhelmed.

“aww don’t cry little doll,” he teases using his teeth to pull the other side of your top down before sucking the nipple into his mouth.

“so much,” you whimper, hands threading in his hair roughly.

“thought that was how you hated me?” his breath is so hot like the tears you feel on your cheeks. he continues pounding into you, hips driving deeper with each thrust.

“yeah,” you can’t form a thought just his hands, and his tongue, and his fingers, and his cock, his dick, him, him, him.

“cat got your tongue,” tugging your bottom lip. you mumble nothing but everything at the same time feeling yourself come undone slowly but all at once. whining again when his tongue laps at your nipple. his fingers swirl quickly on your clit.

“s’ full,” you moan. he slaps your clit again making you shake clenching tightly around him.

“oppa’s cock to much for you?” you shake you head, core tightening as your release approaches faster and faster.

“want it,” you whine, nodding mouth opened spit dribbling down your chin, cock drunk.

“gonna cum because you hate me again?” he grins up at you. you squeeze around him in response, hearing him hiss. speeding up his finger on your clit sending you over the edge.

“oppa,” you whimper, arching into his hold as you cum. hot pleasure fills your body as your hips jerk. pussy pulsing around him but he doesn’t slow down continuously bumping your sweet spot over and over.

“let it out for your oppa,” cooing, he feels the puddle growing on his pants. the pads of his fingers don’t stop causing your release to spray over his lower half.

“oh my god,” you whimper leaning into his shoulder. hips shuddering as he still moves in you.

“you’re so tight,” your cunt still squeezing around him as he slows. heavy breathing into his neck while you come down he slowly ruts into you. finally pulling back looking at the mess you made on him.

“sorry,” you whimper, overstimulated from the fullness.

“it’s fucking hot,” he replies as you push him back to the seat. he looks pretty brown eyes blown wide and staring up at you, his hair sticking to his forehead. you’re determined to have him fill you up. suddenly needy for his hot cum in you. your fingers move the hem of his shirt farther up, pads brushing his nipples making him shiver.

“what are you doing?” you start moving your hips again, swiveling them.

“what does it look like?” you deadpan fingers pinching his nubs. he whines head tipping back with closed eyes.

“cum in me.” you whisper against his stomach. tongue flicking over his sticky skin as you bounce on him. he peers down at you watching you slither up his chest before tonguing his nipple.

“fuck,” he whimpers biting his lip. his hands holding your hips start to pull you up and down on him. quivering from sensitivity with each drag of his cock.

“nuhuh,” you move your hands to stop his. “let me.” you lift your ass up before slapping back down the squelch and slap of skin fills the car. your hands hold his wrists hovering over your skin, but he reaches for you needily.

“wanna fuck you.” you whine flicking his nipple with your tongue. “make you cum.” pausing licking up his chest to his collarbone. “fill me up, oppa,” you whisper into his ear.

he’s keening at every word and every squeeze of your tight cunt around him. pulling back, releasing his hands, using yours to press l against the steamy window for leverage and the other finding your clit.

“feels so good, oppa,” you whine when his cock hits your sweet spot again. he finally moves his hands using his thumbs to spread your pussy watching the sticky connection as his cock disappears in you.

“fuck i’m gonna cum,” he groans as you pull him closer to the edge.

“cum for me oppa,” you whimper fingers circling your clit and nipple.

“love it when oppa fills up my cunt,” hips fucking into you and his head falls back as he pumps hot seed into you with a moan. you keep moving your hips, milking his cock. letting the tip abuse your insides trying to cum again.

“unhuh,” you whine, overstimulating him as his cum starts to slip out of you. it sticks to your inner thighs, strings connecting you.

“shit, stop, fuck,” he grabs your hips stopping your movements.

“i’m so close though,” you whine, fingers still padding against your clit. he pulls you off of him with a groan, cock lazily slapping onto his pelvis. you move your fingers fucking two into your puffy pussy but it’s not enough it never is.

“help me,” you whine and he adds a finger beside yours fucking into your cunt pumping his load back into you. you bounce down meeting creamy digits as he curls them.

“let me show you,” he coos using his finger to push the tips of your own into you making you moan instantly.

“it’s gonna,” you moan out, gripping his wrist. “come out.”

“what happened to that tight little cunt? did oppa fuck you loose?” you whimper and he adds a second finger watching your hole swallow four fingers with ease. the pads of his fingers helping you curl yours, pressing just right. you feel so close just a little more you think rubbing your clit faster and harder.

“fuck i’m,” your hips start to shake. “i’m.” you can’t finish, crying out.

“one more time, for your oppa,” he directs more than asks.

you garble out curses as you cum. squirting onto your hands and his spent cock. your wrist slowing but he keeps going coaxing the streams out of you. you can’t think of anything, your body buzzing and shivering with waves of pleasure. it feels like it’s never going to end each bump of your own fingers inside you makes you spill more.

“no more, can’t,” you mumble, grabbing for him. mind numb and cunt pulsing out small dribbles.

“so greedy,” he tells you, pulling out with you, one final spurt hitting his dick. you lay your hand on his thigh but he slaps your cunt making you cry. his sticky fingers rubbing against you slowly. he feels what’s left of his cum start to pool on his fingers, mixing with all you gave him.

cupping his fingers he scoops it from you making you quiver again. before he can move his hands you grab his wrist pulling his fingers to your mouth slurping the mixture onto your tongue.

“fuck,” he hisses, watching you diligently sucking every drop from him. “so fucking nasty.”

sitting back on his thighs with a huff looking down to inspect the damage. his pants are practically dark grey now and his shirt even has damp spots. your fingers spread your lips so you can peak at your pussy, wet and swollen still slightly pulsing.

“i gotta put some towels or something in here. this is like the fourth time.” you giggle pushing your hair out of your face.

“sorry,” you puff.

“next time i'm just going to open the door and let you make a mess on the pavement.” you roll your eyes but the thought of him holding you up for anyone to watch while you squirt makes you tingle.

“you're so freaky. don’t tell me you want me to,” he reads your mind.

“shut up,” you push him away.

“next time i’ll just bend you over the hood.” you whine legs squeezing his. your both still catching your breath the air in the car hot and muggy. you groan as you slide from his lap into your seat.

“i’m going to have to get her detailed again.” he mutters looking between your legs where the slick rubs on his seat.

“sorry,” you grin. he looks around to see if anyone is outside but it’s empty. he always parks far away from the entrance, behind the permanently closed pool. it’s rare that anyone pulls up near you. he tucks himself in his ruined sweats lifting his hips to pull them up before opening the door. the rush of cool air hits you, making you close your legs quickly.

haechan rummages in the trunk, he did keep towels and a change of clothes. after the first time you made a mess he secretly stockpiled items for you. a sweater here, some pants there, a duplicate of your favorite blanket.

he pulls out one of his sweatshirts, tugging his own shirt off, tossing it in a small basket he put back there. he shivered pulling the clean one on quickly. he grabbed two towels before walking back to the door handing you one.

“i thought you didn’t keep towels in here?” you question grabbing the towel and shifting it under you.

“i’m not known for telling the truth.” he wipes over his seat cleaning up the mess. he walks back to the trunk as you lean your head against the seat, sighing.

he puts the towel on top of his shirt, grabbing wipes and two pairs of sweatpants he closes the trunk with an elbow.

“here,” his voice makes you open your eyes. he’s holding wipes up and you grab them. pulling them out you wipe over his seat, he’s standing outside swiftly pulling off his pants. you look up his ass in your face and you can’t resist slapping it.

“b word,” he shrieks, turning to you, almost falling, he hopes on one leg, tugging the pants over his shoes. his refusal to call you a bitch makes you laugh. he’s so tender.

“hey you can only call me that during sex,” you scold.

“that seems like the last place i should call you that,” he points out, stepping into the sweats.

“but i like it,” you pout, closing the wipes watching him jump into his pants.

“because you,” leaning in before tapping a finger on your nose. “are a freak.” you bite at his finger but he pulls away too quickly grabbing something off the roof.

“here,” he holds your own pants to you.

“i’ve been looking for these,” you groan, ripping them from his hands. “how long have you had these?” he shrugs getting back into his seat. not bothering with your tights you slip your skirt down letting it pool on the floorboard. he sits his seat back up starting the car again and blasting the heat. you pull the pants over your legs enjoying the soft warm fabric.

“why do you have my pants,” you prod poking his side.

“in case you needed them,” he states plainly.

“awww you’re so sweet,” you pinch his cheek. “do you like me or something?”

“gross,” he blurts, side eyeing you. “do you want me to drop you at your place?”

“please,” you respond, scrolling on your phone. the car is quiet except for the heat blowing through the vents. “thanks for picking me up by the way, and the ice cream.”

“no worries,” he mumbles, turning the wheel.

“do you have more of my clothes?” you open the glove box pulling your panties out.

“just some leggings and shit in the trunk,” he tells you casually.

“why are you stealing from me,” you sigh, making him chuckle.

“i’ll just get pee pads instead. is that better?”

“god that’s weird. i never do that with anyone else,” you admit.

“wait what?” he stops at a light, looking at you grinning.

“i mean i’ve come close but never like,” you pause motioning, “that. the first time was with you.” you see his ego growing beneath his skin already regretting what you said.

“you’re saying only my dick, my fingers, my tongue can get you like that,” he’s smiling to himself and it’s so annoying you want to slap him and kiss him. you shake your head, getting the last thought out of your head.

“don’t get a big head or anything. i shouldn’t have said it.” you roll your eyes picking at fuzz on your pants.

“if it helps you’re the only one who can make me cum by just playing with my nipples.”

“i’m sure you can do that all by yourself.”

“i’ve tried.” he says flatly.

“you’re too impatient. you just want to nut as fast as possible when you’re alone.”

“well duh why would i want to drag it out if i’m alone and not playing with you. i don’t even jerk off that much anymore, i just edge myself for you.” you dwell on what he said. he makes it sound like you’re the only one he’s hooking up with.

“you don’t edge yourself for-“

“no.” he interrupts you before you can start listing people. “i don’t hook up with anyone else.”

“what?”

“i don’t hook up with anyone else.” he repeats.

“i dunno, that’s a little too intimate, haechan,” you tease, trying to seem like you don’t care. part of you wants to think about what it actually means and another part wants to ignore him and be oblivious.

“is it? i like being intimate with you,” he meets your eyes quickly, fingers crawling up your leg.

“that sounds so serious,” you breathe deeply.

“don’t tell me you didn’t like that?” recalling how you felt less than 15 minutes ago. squeezing your legs together and your eyes closed. “i know you. you hate that i do, but i know how i make you feel. i’m confident in that.”

you stay quiet the only sound coming from the heat and wheels on pavement. his hand still rests on your thigh, fingers softly thrumming. you don’t really have an answer or any witty remark. he’s right. he does know your body better than anyone you have ever been with. you hate to admit he knows you better too. reading your mind with ease and his humor is just as dirty and weird. deep down you know how you feel for him but you can’t, it breaks the unspoken rule between you too.

“why do you have to be so,” you groan, his hand smooths over your leg.

“i think you know how i feel about you,” he mutters, turning onto you street.

“huh,” you heard him.

“we’re here,” he pulls up beside your apartment.

“thanks,” you whisper, grabbing your bag and shoving your panties in. opening the door and haechan rolls the window down as you slam the door.

“don’t forget,” he holds your skirt up and you grab it from him.

“thanks.”

“good night.”

“good night, and just so you know, i don’t know how you feel about me.” you tell him, pulling back before turning to walk to your door. you want to look back and see his face but you get your keys out and turn them in the lock.

he sits watching you turn the door knob and disappear into your house. he sighs, eyes closing and leaning his head back rubbing his eyes with his palms.

[jungkookstatts]

Not in the Way You Think

[Summary]: You've been after your best friend for ages. But how are you supposed to know that he's after you too if he insists on being a bachelor until his dying breath?

[Theme]: ChildHoodFriendsToLovers!AU, NonIdol!AU, VirginReader!AU, BachelorJK!Au, Fuck-Boy JK, Virgin Reader

[Rating]: 18+, explicit content, dry humping, protected sex, fluff, somewhat angst, many many years of pining, making out, oral. Soft dom/Dom JK, sub Reader, virgin things, mention of alcohol and a pen

[Word Count]: 6,043

[A/N]: Hi. I've resurrected. For now. Enjoy! Also, if anyone knows what's going on with my materialist -- sos!!

[Materialist]

“Sorry, but there’s no fucking way,” your best friend scoffs against the lip of his dab pen. He was about to take a hit, but was abruptly stopped before you told him something completely unbelievable to his ears.

“Jungkook, I’m serious,” you whine.

God, this is so embarrassing. You fiddle with the rims of your hoodie's sleeve, examining it in shame. You can’t dare to look at the face of your best friend on the other side of the couch. His words already make you feel embarrassed enough, you can’t imagine what looking at his face would do.

“Y/n,” he starts again, that disbelieving smirk proving to adorn his features. “You’re 24 years old. What the fuck.”

“24-year-olds can be virgins, too, Jungkook,” you roll your eyes. “Not everyone strives to have over 30 bodies on their ‘fucked list’ by this age.”

You feel so embarrassed. Of all people, you thought your best friend wouldn’t shame you like this. It’s already embarrassing enough to be at this age and to not have tried anything sexual with anyone before. You’re inexperienced. You know that. But the conversation originally didn’t start this way. What was once a talk about which flavored soju was better than the other, turned into a ridiculing conversation about your lame sex life. The last thing you need is his bantering about how shocking it is to hear everything you haven’t done yet.

“57,” he corrects you with yet another smirk. This time, there’s a tease in his eye, obviously waiting for your reaction on his body count number. 

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes. “Forget it.” 

You try to grab the remote on the coffee table, but Jungkook takes it before you can. 

“Wait, now,” he laughs when you smack his arm. “I’m not done asking about this yet.” 

“Jungkook!” you whine. “I’m seriously so embarrassed. I don’t want to talk about it with you anymore.”

“Have you ever kissed anyone?!” He raises his pierced eyebrow. “What about Taehyung? And Soobin? Aren’t those guys your ex’s? You had to have done something with them, Y/n, c’mon.” 

“Yes!” you blush harshly. “Of course I’ve kissed people before. I’ve just never…done anything dirty with them.” 

“Not even like a hand job or anything?” he raises his other eyebrow.

“Jungkook, please stop reacting like that. You’re making me feel worse,” you tuck your hair behind your ear. 

It’s no news that Jungkook is not only your childhood best friend but he’s also been a notorious fuck-boy since about 5 years ago when the two of you moved to a different city to attend the same college. He has always told you that he was going to spend his university life being a bachelor, making it a goal of his to see how many girls he could get underneath him by the age of 25. He's gathered quite a lot. Except now, he’s more knowledgeable than you for once, and you’re not taking the news so well.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” he apologizes. But his words prove to be carried with no remorse. “Not even oral?” 

“Jungkook!” you kick his knee. “Seriously. I continued this conversation with you because I thought you’d be nicer about it. You’re obviously the experienced one here. But clearly, you’re not experienced enough to know that not everyone is constantly looking for which sexual activity to try on the next stranger.” 

You’ve been his #1 ear to all of his stories for years now, no matter how repetitive they can be…or how much they secretly punch you in the gut every time he tells you a new one.

The two of you couldn’t be more opposite. He’s sporty and social, you’re quiet and mellow. He’s into the music and business world, whereas you’re into radiology and all-things-hospital. He’d rather spend his free time partying and making himself feel good in any way that he can, whereas you’d spend your free time wrapped in a book or having coffee over a new podcast about aliens.

But no matter your differences, the grunge boy that you grew up with sitting on the opposite side of the couch, making fun of you and laughing at the sheer difference in how the two of you chose to live out your college years, will always be your best friend. He might remain a crush or even your first love, but nothing can change the fact that the two of you click like two peas in a pod. You couldn’t trade anything for that, even your secrets about what you feel for him. 

“Woah, hey,” he chuckles. “Sorry. I’m just–wow. It’s just shocking to me, I don’t know. Especially for you.” 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you scrunch your eyebrows together. 

“Well, I mean,” he laughs awkwardly, putting his pen on the table. “It’s no secret you were the girl every guy was trying to get into their bed all throughout college…and high school.” 

“Tch,” you shake your head. “As if, Kook. Don’t try to make up for ridiculing me about my sex life by covering it up with fake scenarios.”

“I’m serious, Y/n. Just as serious as you are about this,” he says. “You thought that Soobin, the university's #1 crush–a guy even more wanted than me–would agree to go out with you and date you if you weren’t the hottest chick in the school?” 

“Yeah, well, that was short-lived,” you scoff, remembering the events of your break up. “He didn’t really want me. Or well, he did, but not like how I thought.”

“This is why I’m shocked,” he explains further. “Literally every man that I knew talked about you. I don’t know how their efforts could have gone unnoticed by you. But I guess you were too in your head to notice. You had the hottest man in the school, but not even that was enough to even make you think about doing anything with him?” 

As much as that information flatters you, it doesn’t satisfy you at all. Truthfully, Jungkook could talk about any man in the world that might want you. But if that category doesn’t include him, the thought doesn’t arouse you at all. 

Your own brain can’t even wrap itself around why you were so hung up on him. Why would you possibly want a guy like Jungkook to want you. He’s careless and reckless. He doesn’t give things a second thought and pushes all your buttons at the worst times. He’s foolish and irresponsible – a walking stick screaming ‘bad news’.

But at the same time, he is oh-so gentle. He’s kind and sweet, considerate and respectful. His touch makes you jolt, and his voice relieves your headaches in an instant. You feel safe when he is there, and absolutely terrified when he is not. He’s strong and capable, but also sentimental at heart. 

You don’t think you could find anyone else like him in the world. No one like your Jungkook. 

No wonder your past relationships didn’t work out for you. Taehyung you broke up with out of frustration. It was with him that you realized that Jungkook was too in your head to be dating anyone fairly. And just when you thought you were over Jungkook being your ideal man, Soobin walked into your life. But since he broke up with you over your own inexperience, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about how maybe you waited too long. No one wants someone who has no idea what they’re doing in the bedroom at the age of 24. Most of society at this age is dating to marry. You’re still dating for the experience. 

“It’s not that I didn’t think about doing anything with him,” you respond. “I just–I don’t know. I couldn’t. It didn’t feel right. He wasn’t–I don’t know. We just weren’t a good match. The same goes for Taehyung and everyone else before him and Soobin.”

Your best friend is quiet for a moment, trying to wrap his head around everything that you’re saying.

“But it’s all irrelevant now,” you continue. “We’re graduated, and there’s nothing I can do about previous male efforts towards getting me in their sheets. It’s just–there’s something wrong with me.” 

“Clearly,” Jungkook agrees. “Sex is like–life. You truly don’t know until you try. Do you even masturbate?” 

“Jungkook,” you sigh quietly, as a disappointed palm presses against your forehead. “You weren’t supposed to agree to that.” 

“Well, do you?” 

“Of course, I masturbate.” 

“And that hasn’t persuaded you at all? Don’t you imagine what it would feel like to have something other than your fingers or some toy getting you off?” 

“That’s so graphic,” you scowl. 

“Well, do you?” 

You roll your eyes. 

“I do, don’t get me wrong,” you agree. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just too hung up on a scenario that’s not possible–at least not for me.”

“You’re pined after by millions, Y/n,” he sits up straight on the couch, his legs folding against the cushions to get a better look at you. “Any scenario is possible in your world. Especially related to sex. You could get any man that you wanted to if you just broke down a wall or two and went after them.” 

“That’s not–never mind,” you give up. You’re too embarrassed to admit anything. You also don’t really want to. Risking your friendship with Jungkook isn’t worth letting out a secret like this. You’d lose him forever, and you can’t risk that. “No one wants a 24-year-old virgin,” you begin again, trying to move on from your previous words. “Unless they’re a crazy perv, or one of those dudes who thinks that only ‘marriageable girls’ should be virgins until they tie the knot. And, well, those guys are just…weird.” 

Jungkook laughs at your words and a small smile forms on your lips from the sound of his laugh. 

“Y/n, what are you saying?” he exclaims amidst his laughter. “Look at you! You haven't lost a cent of your desirability in all the years I’ve known you. Any guy would want you.”

“But not you,” 

“Huh?” 

Fuck. 

Fuck fuck fuck. Why did you just say that?! 

The thought slipped past your lips without a second thought. There’s heat in your cheeks, and you can’t bear to look at Jungkook’s face. You might have fucked everything up now. Just over a thought you didn’t think twice about. Your brain must have been done suppressing it, but now you have to sit here and wait for the consequences of letting it all go. 

“Sorry,” you clear your throat. “C-Can you give me the remote? I’d like to drop this and finish this show.” 

“Nuh-uh,” he laughs in disbelief. His rough hand gently wraps around your wrist, forcing you to look at him again. “What did you just say?” 

“Jungkook, please,” you cry. There’s fear in your voice. You’re so scared of losing him, you can’t even think properly. All you want to do is pretend like nothing happened. Like this whole conversation didn’t happen and you were back to talking about flavored soju. The thought of losing your best friend floods your mind, and you beg him with your eyes to stop. But he’s unrelenting. 

Jungkook scoffs at the look in your eye, his grip loosening on your wrist before sliding it off completely. 

“Y/n, you are so oblivious, it actually gets on my nerves more than anything in this world sometimes,” he says. 

You feel your heart sink to your stomach. 

“I didn’t think I’d actually have to tell you this because I thought it was obvious how I feel about you,” he laughs to himself. “I don’t know how long you’ve noticed, or if you’ve even noticed at all, but I’ve had a crush on you since freshman year of high school, Y/n. And it’s only grown since then. So don’t think for a second that I wouldn’t want you.” 

Words fail to leave your lips. You’ve had so much shock and embarrassment during your time spent with him tonight. But nothing could have prepared you for this. 

“Jungkook, none of this is making sense,” you stop him. As much as your heart leaps at his confession, a part of you is still completely misunderstanding something. “You mean to tell me that you’ve had a crush on me for how long? And yet in the meantime, you’ve made it your mission to be with every woman on campus? How in the world do you expect me to think you had feelings for me when every Saturday morning you tell me about whose pussy you were up the night before? How was I supposed to know?”

There’s a bit of anger in your voice. All these years of getting your heart shattered over his countless stories about girls that weren’t you. About how he kissed Emily on Friday night and then fucked her best friend, Rachel, in the ass a few hours later. About how he went all the way home one weekend just to fuck your high school calculus teacher. Or about the countless times you’ve walked into your shared apartment with him, only to look down and see an extra pair of girly high-heels sitting by the door next to his shoes. Or the many pairs of unfamiliar panties you’ve found in the wash. Or the smell of strong perfume constantly stained on his side of the couch. 

“How in the world did I expect you to think I had feelings for you?” he reiterated your questions irritably. “Y/n, I asked you to be my date to prom! Hell, don’t even try to cut out the fact that we almost kissed when we graduated high school. I hung out with you every day after school in both high school and college. Fuck, half the reason I came to this university was to be by your side. We even have an apartment together!” 

“You’re my best friend, Jungkook!” you explain. 

“You don’t have to remind me,” he runs his hands through his hair in frustration. “I gave up trying to make us anything more than friends a while ago. Fuck, every time I lay with a girl it’s the biggest reminder of all that we’ll only be friends.” 

“Fuck you, Jungkook,” you cry. A tear falls down your cheek from his words. God, you’re so frustrated and angry and annoyed and so relieved. You don’t know which emotion to put first. “Fuck you. You shattered me into pieces. You call me oblivious when I’ve spent years loving you. But you’ve been too busy telling me about who you’re going to fuck next to notice." 

Jungkook breathes heavily, anger leaving his nostrils. His eyes are foreign to yours. You’ve never seen so much emotion in them at once. 

And then suddenly he’s on your side of the couch, hovering over you, holding your jaw in his big, tattooed palm. His lips sear against yours kissing you with passion you’ve never felt before. 

It’s second nature to hold his face in your hands. His ears slip between your middle and index finger; the cool metal of his earrings touches your skin gently. 

You moan into him when you glide your right hand into his locks, pressing him tighter against your body. Jungkook grunts at the feeling of your hand in his hair. Never in a million years did he think he'd feel you like this. No matter how many times he’s imagined it before, no matter how many times he’s pretended it was you instead of the stranger beneath him, the feeling of imagining you is nothing compared to the feeling of actually having you right there in his arms. 

You can feel him lay his weight heavier on you the more you kiss him. It prompts you to wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him tighter against your body. 

Jungkook’s lips detach from yours slowly, his thumb lightly pressing against your bottom lip as he pulls away. 

“I’m sorry,” he kisses you again slowly. It’s wet and soft, but you don’t mind. It’s him, and he feels right. “I guess we gave each other too many mixed signals.” 

You kiss him back, holding his chin between your index finger and thumb. 

“Are my signals clear now?” you ask him gently. 

“If you’re telling me that you want me…more than just friends,” he presses his nose against yours. “Then they’re clear as day.” 

You smile against his lips when he indulges on you again. Jungkook kisses you slowly and softly for another few minutes. It’s much different from the kissing you did a few minutes ago. This time, he’s gentle, and so are you. Your hands find purchase at the base of his scalp again, and you smile as he moans at the feeling. This is a whole new learning curve for you, and you’re finally going through lessons you’ve restricted yourself from accessing for a very long time. It feels so good. It feels amazing to have him in your arms like this. 

But still, somehow there’s something missing. There’s a pit in your stomach, a wetness in between your thighs that begs you to rub up against him. And so you do, but you’re stopped with a firm hand on your hip from the man above you. You suddenly feel embarrassed again. 

"Y/n,” he pants against your lips. He looks down at your conjoined hips. A part of him feels embarrassed at the sight–he doesn’t think he’s been more hard in his life. But he respects you more than to indulge in his own fantasy right now. “You’re still a virgin,” he reminds you. 

“I know,” you exhale. “But I want you, Kook. I want you to be the one to take it.” 

“Y/n,” he coos, swiping his thumb across your cheek. “I think you should think about it. I’m not the most romantic person in bed. I also don’t think I’m cut out to be your first. I don’t deserve you like that.” 

“Don’t say that Jungkook,” you scrunch your eyebrows together. “You say that as if I haven’t been imagining you in the same way that you imagine me. You say that as if I haven’t been waiting for 10 years to kiss you like this. I want you. I’ve wanted you for so long, and I think this moment is why I haven’t been able to indulge in sex with anyone else. I feel right with you.” 

You watch his eyes dart from your eyes to your lips. He’s lazy with his decision on which to focus on right now. His heart is so overwhelmed, he doesn't know which feature of yours to honor first. 

“What are you doing to me,” he laughs at himself. You smile back at him, and he swears nothing has ever been more right than how it is at this moment. 

“Will you take me, Jungkook?” you ask him again, much softer this time. It sounds strange coming from your mouth. You’ve never asked anyone to do that for you. The only person you’ve wanted, or have imagined, taking it away from you has been Jungkook. And here he is above you. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. Your words send all the blood straight to his cock, as if it didn’t have enough blood in it already. “If that’s what you want.” 

“It’s what I want,” you confirm with him. “I want you.” 

“God, I want you, too,” he says, kissing you passionately yet again. This time, he scoops you into his arms, sitting you up on his lap. You straddle him perfectly, your thighs hugging his, and your core pressed temptingly against his own. 

Jungkook moans at the feeling, his hands finding purchase on your hips before slowly grinding them against his own. 

Your hands fall from his jaw to his shoulder, the feeling of his clothed dick against your pussy is much more shocking than you thought it would be. Never in a million years did you think such a strange action would feel so good. 

“Kook,” you whine against his lips. 

He breathes lightly against yours, trying to keep his composure as you make yourself feel good on his thighs. 

“Can I touch you?” he asks gently. His hands remain on your hips until you nod, giving him permission to explore your body in whichever way he would like to first. 

He watches your face as he slides his hands up to your waist. His fingers make their way under your silk pajama shirt, causing you to jolt at the feeling of his skin against yours. It puts a desire in your heart that you’ve never felt before. You’ve never wanted to explore anyone else like this. 

“C-Can I touch you?” You ask him this time. 

Jungkook laughs a little at you asking for his permission. In a way, he’s not really used to that. He finds it endearing that even though he’s fucked a lot of girls in his lifetime, the fact doesn’t take away that he’s still worthy of asking something like that to you. The other part of him laughs as if he’d ever say no to you. 

“Please,” he gives you permission. 

With that, you look at the fabric of his shirt leaning against his collarbone. His typical black shirt covers just enough to make you curious. 

But your eyes move to your own hands, which are delicately mimicking his actions, except they start by pushing up his shirt from the bottom. Your fingertips feel his abs underneath them. They’re defined, and you hate to admit that they make you really nervous. 

Your eyes flick to his, and they read your mind like a book. 

With one motion, he takes his hands off your waist and pulls his shirt off, revealing all his glory to you in one quick second. 

You take a deep breath, and he chuckles a little. But his laughs stop the minute you touch him again. They slide up his abs, your fingertips feeling his honey skin underneath you. They slide to his arm, covered in ink. They’re a perfect representation of him, and you haven’t told him enough how much you love them. They’re passionate and edgy, handsome and strong, but gentle and honest all at the same time. 

You almost get lost in his ink when he slides his fingers further up your shirt. 

Your breath stops in your throat when he grazes his fingers on the underside of your boob. You’re not wearing a bra, and the fact only excites Jungkook more. 

But he wants to be patient with you, even though he knows that the two of you want this so badly. 

“Can I?” he asks again. 

“Yes,” you give him permission in a whisper. 

With that, he slides the silk fabric up and over your shoulder, his breath stopping in his throat when he sees you. 

“Fuck Y/n,” he breathes out. He looks to you for permission again to touch you, and you nod with a small smile on your face. 

Jungkook gently cups the underside of your breasts, his body leaning forward as he does so. His lips wrap around your nipple and you gasp when he twirls his tongue around your sensitive bud. 

The sensation prompts you to press your hips deeper against his, eliciting the sweetest sound from his throat. His black jeans frustrate him, the barrier is too thick between you and him. 

He sucks on you harder before popping off and transferring his torture to your other nipple. Your pussy feels like it’s almost gushing arousal from his mouth alone. A raspy moan leaves your mouth as he gently bites on your bud, prompting you to tug at his hair. 

“K-Kook,” you moan. “Please,” you beg. 

Jungkook pops off your nipple, his mouth trailing kisses up to your neck. His hands slide up your back, holding you close against his chest as he kisses and sucks on the sweetest parts of your neck. You know he’s learning you, and you’re 100% willing to let him continue. 

“I want you inside of me,” you pant against his ear. “Please, Kook. I want you.” 

Jungkook pulls away, resting his hands on your waist again. 

He looks at you with more seriousness now, although his lips are red and swollen and his skin is starting to shimmer with the slightest bit of sweat. 

“Are you sure?” He asks you again.

“Yes,” you hold his cheek. 

“Okay,” he smiles. 

With that, he stands up with you wrapped around his waist. You know where you’re going, and you giggle against his neck at the fact that this is reality. You’re in his arms, your skin against his, and he’s on his way to make you feel closer to him than you ever have before. This is the only man that you’d let do this to you, you’ve realized. And the relief that it is finally happening makes you giddy and so so happy on the inside. You can’t help but hold him closer. 

Jungkook gently lays you on his sheets. They smell like him, and you feel warm inside when he tops off the scent with himself hovering over you. 

“Have you…you know,” he gulps. “Used anything before?” 

“Like a dildo?” you clarify. 

“Yeah,” he kisses your neck again. He’s completely overwhelmed with you. He can’t stop kissing you, and he doesn't want to stop anytime soon. The urge to mark you as his own–to show every man that you belong to him–is so strong. He can’t help being so proud that this has finally happened. That you’re with him, and that this is the start of something new between the two of you. 

“Other than my fingers,” you sigh. “No, not really.” 

Suddenly, Jungkook stands up, uncomfortably fiddling with the zipper of his jeans. What you said made his dick hurt with arousal. His jeans are too tight on him now, and he wants to feel all of your skin against his. 

You watch him take off his jeans, feeling overwhelmed by the look of his cock springing free underneath his gray Calvin’s. 

“S-Sorry,” he apologizes for the change in pace. “They were getting tight.” 

“I can see why,” you exhale. 

You feel taken aback by Jungkook’s size. It’s still clothed by his boxers, and he already looks like he’s going to rip you open. No wonder he is in such high demand. 

“I’ll prep you,” he promises. “N’ go slow.” 

You watch him give himself a few pumps over his boxers, closing his eyes from the feeling of releasing a little bit of tension. He smiles when his eyes land on your face, your eyes completely fixated on his dick. 

“Something caught your eye?” he laughs at the expression on your face. 

“Shut up,” you smile. 

Your breath stills when he hooks his fingers around the rim of your pants, asking your eyes for permission before he continues. You allow him, and soon you’re left in just a pair of boy shorts with a huge stain soaking at your core. The sight has Jungkook immediately leaning himself on his elbows against the mattress to get a better look. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, sliding his hands on the underside of your thigh. He pushes your legs up, examining you for the first time. “You’re soaked, Y/n.” 

“S-Shut up,” you shy. “Do something already.” 

Jungkook laughs at your embarrassment, hooking his fingers underneath the waistband of your underwear and sliding it up and off your body. 

“As you wish,” he whispers against your core. You don’t even have time to react before his mouth gently envelopes your clit. He sucks on it as you squirm beneath him, the intensity of his pleasure feeling like it’s going to be a lot to handle. 

You slide your fingers into his hair when he plays at your entrance. It’s so wet, and he can’t control himself from sliding his finger in, knuckles deep, as you moan from his actions. 

Your responses only fuel his fire, causing him to lap you up even more, to slip another finger in and curl it up into your g-spot. He can feel you tense, and he knows you’re close. He wants you to get there, but you stop him before he has the chance to. 

“Want you, Kook,” you whine. “I wanna cum with you.” 

“You wanna cum with me?” he restated your statement as a question. 

You nod feverishly against his pillows, your eyes coming to lock with his. 

“I want you inside of me when you make me feel good,” you explain. “That’s how I want it.” 

Jungkook gulps. Fuck, if that wasn’t the hottest thing he’s ever heard. 

“If that’s how you want it,” he smiles. 

With a swift motion, he gets up to take off his boxers, his dick slapping against his abdomen as he does so. 

It's almost comical how quickly he reaches for a condom in his nightstand drawer, slipping it on while his eyes stay right on yours. They tell you he’s been longing for you for so long. That this moment was one that he always dreamt of, but never thought would become a reality. You can only hope that yours convey the same. 

Jungkook hovers over you again, his tip lining up with your entrance. 

“Are you sure you want this? I can stop right now if you want me to,” he asks you again. There’s a worry in his eyes, as if he doesn’t think he’s the right one to take this from you. 

“I want you, Koo. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. Please take me,” you plea. 

You watch that man above you gulp before he kisses the tip of your nose. He rests his elbows on the sides of your head, trapping you underneath him. With a kiss, you feel the burn of being stretched suddenly flood your system. He pushes in slowly, your back arching into him as he struggles to find a normal breathing pace. 

It hurts, but he goes slow. He’s aware of your discomfort, and he wants you to say something before he continues. 

“S’ this okay?” he asks you. 

When you look down, you realize he’s only half way, and your head tilts back against sheets. He’s so big, you don’t know what to do with yourself. 

“Mmhm,” you grip his shoulders. “You can move, Kook.” 

Jungkook pulls out, and then goes back in quicker and deeper this time. The feeling causes you to dig your nails into the skin of his back, the pain and pleasure bringing you to a high you’ve never felt before. 

“Ahh- Y/n,” Jungkook moans on top of you. His head falls into the crook of your neck as he keeps a steady and slow pace. “You feel so good,” he pants against your skin. 

“F-Faster, Kook,” you beg, wrapping your legs around his waist. 

“Mm,” he hums, happily obliging to your request. 

Jungkook speeds up the pace, his hips slapping against yours lewdly. There's so much liquid shared between the two of you, but neither of you care. It feels too good to stop. 

“M’ feel good, baby?” He asks you, hovering his lips above yours. “This what you wanted?” 

“Y-Yes,” you cry, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach from the name he called you.

Jungkook suddenly takes your hips in his hands firmly. Sitting on the back of his heels, his body towers over you before ramming his hips into yours again. The action causes you to tilt your head back, feeling fuller than you were just a minute ago in this new position. 

“Yeah?” He licks his lips. His face looks demonic–like an actual sex demon is on top of you right now. “This is what you wanted, huh? You wanted to be fucked by this fat cock so bad, didn’t you, hm?” 

Jungkooks fingers grip your hips tighter, slamming them against his own even harder than he did before. You can feel him against your cervix, hitting your g-spot with every exit and entrance of his cock in your pussy. 

“Wanted you so bad, Koo,” you cry. 

You feel your toes start to curl, and a part of you feels scared that you might cum too quickly. You want this to last longer. 

“Yeah?” He bites his lip. Hearing you say that makes his head go fuzzy. The girl he’s wanted for so long, the girl he thought he could never have, is finally his. And he’s a part of something that is so special to you, he feels honored and overwhelmed all at the same time. “You gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna cum on my dick?” 

“K-Kook,” you whine. “S-Say you wanted me, too. S-Say–” 

“Fuck, Y/n, I wanted you so bad,” he grunts at the thought. He feels angry for the time he’s lost due to thinking one thing when it was actually the other. He could have been with you like this every night. He could have been loving you and holding your hand, and kissing you all day long had he just grown a pair and done it earlier. He should have kissed you at graduation all that time ago. Or maybe even earlier at prom. He’s wanted you all along. And thinking about how he felt when you got together with Taehyung and Soobin made him feel a jealousy he’s never felt before. He can only imagine what he’s done to you. The fact that he had someone new every night to talk to you about makes his heart hurt with the fact that telling you those things might have shattered your heart into dust just as you dating someone else did to his own. 

“I wanted you then, and I want you now, and I want you after,” he continues. “I don’t want to let you go ever again.” 

Your back arches from his words, your neck falling back from the pleasure and the pain all at once. 

“Koo,” you grab onto his wrist. “I think I’m gonna cum.” 

“Yeah?” He bites his lip again. His hair falls in front of his face as he watches your breasts move with his dick inside of you. “Cum for me baby, I’m not that far behind.” 

Jungkook falls on top of you again. But this time, he brings your legs up over his shoulders, pushing into you even further than before. You’re starting to think he has an endless cock. Every new position he puts you in, you feel another inch inside of you. 

You feel a white heat wash over you, and somehow you see stars as he continuously moves his dick in you harshly. 

“A-Ahh,” you hear him moan. “You’re so tight–m’ gonna cum,” he tells you against your ear. “S’ that–that alright?” 

He holds out until you let him, nodding into his cheek, too blissed out from your orgasm to form a worded response. 

His thrusts get sloppy after you give him permission. The last few of them are hard and deep before you feel his dick pulse inside of you. A stream of sweet moans and your name falls from his lips as he releases inside of you. Out of all the music in the world, this is the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. 

After a few moments to catch a breath, he pulls out, not wanting any of his cum to leak out of the condom as he begins to soften from his post-sex glory. Jungkook kisses you gently, moving your hair off your sweaty face. He kisses your cheek and your forehead before tucking your hair behind your ear. 

“You okay?” he asks you gently. 

You laugh at his question. Hell, you were more than okay. Your best friend, first love, and current love, just took your virginity. Although you know you have a lot to experience in the sexual world, you whole-heartedly believe that it cannot get any better than this. 

“Yes, are you?” you ask him back. 

Jungkook laughs in the same way that you laughed at him. 

“Is it safe to say that you’re my girlfriend now?” he asks. 

“Only if the feeling is mutual.” 

-----

[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts, 2023 ]

[snowluvvie]

Wedding bells are ringing for Clark Kent and his valium-softened bride. ( based off this thought i had the other day )

MDNI 18+. warnings — implied/mentioned heavy drug use, dubcon due to extreme intoxication, objectification/bimbofication

The church is straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting—white wooden siding, a tall steeple, and a red-carpeted aisle leading to an altar adorned with lilies and roses. The air is thick with Chanel No. 5 and incense, mixing in strange, intoxicating waves, nearly enough to make the guests just as hopelessly loopy as you are. You arrive in a classic tea-length gown with layers of tulle—it’s all the rage this year—cinched at the waist so tightly that you sway a little bit as you walk. Your veil is long, trailing behind you like a vapor, your lips painted the precise shade of post-war optimism ( Revlon’s Fire & Ice, duh. )

Clark is hopelessly, irrevocably in love with his half-lucid bride. From the moment you step into the church, a confection of dreamy adoration in white tulle and a cloud of perfume, his entire world narrows to you alone. He watches as you glide toward him, your eyes just slightly unfocused, lips parted in a dazed, blissful smile—like a doll brought to life, like a dream drifting through the church. He grips the altar rail so hard his knuckles go white.

When you reach him, you let out a breathy giggle and murmur, “Hi, darling.” You’re not entirely sure how you got here, but you’re unwaveringly certain there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. Clark swallows, utterly undone. “Hi, sweetheart.” He takes your hands carefully, his thumbs tracing gentle circles over the satin of your gloves. You sigh at the touch, leaning against him, a little too warm, a little too lost in the moment.

During the ceremony, you barely listen to the officiant, instead staring up at Clark with the sort of breathless, glassy-eyed adoration that makes his chest feel tight. When it’s your turn for the vows, you hesitate—not because you’re nervous, but because you keep forgetting what you’re supposed to say. You give a soft, confused little laugh, batting your lashes up at him.

“Oh, darling, what was I going to say? I had it in my head just a moment ago...”

Clark only smiles and squeezes your hands. “That you love me,” he murmurs, prompting you gently.

Your face lights up, relieved. “Oh! Yes! I love you, I love you, I love you.” But it truly doesn’t matter, Clark is already pressing the ring onto your finger, already bending to kiss you—long, lingering, chaste enough to be seen by your families but in that deep way that anchors you to him, something he always does.

The reception is held in the grand ballroom, plastered with gold and cream wallpaper, the kind of place where the women sip gin fizzes and the men loosen their ties after a few too many Old Fashioneds. The wedding cake is towering and ornate, white icing shaped into elaborate floral designs, managing to be extremely delicate and disgustingly excessive all at once.

Clark is approached by his work colleagues, all hearty backslaps and talk of mortgages and promotions. You drape yourself over his arm like an elegant, sentient fur stole, occasionally sighing contentedly as you play with the pearls around your neck, resting lightly against your collarbones. You’re adored by all, at least—not necessarily respected, but your beauty and devotion to your husband more than makes up for any… gaps… in your wit or lucidity.

When his work colleagues’ eyes find you in that hawklike fashion, tongue swiping over lips as they silently think between themselves what it must be like to fuck something so unwaveringly pliant and agreeable, Clark steers you away and back towards one of your families. That happens often, of course—people can’t seem to control themselves near a beauty like you, especially when they see the way you drift through your own life without opinion or complaint, content with whatever is going on. That’s what Clark is there for. Wrapped up safely in his warm embrace—if you can’t slip from his big arms for even a moment, no one can hurt you.

When you become quite distracted by the champagne bubbles in your glass, watching them rise like tiny golden stars, Clark gently turns your face back to him, tucking a stray curl behind your ear. He murmurs something to you, but you only hum in response, lost in the way he regards you with those pale crystal eyes. You find yourself leaned against his shoulder again—utterly content there

The band plays “Unchained Melody”, and when Clark takes you onto the dance floor, you cling to him as if he’s the only thing anchoring you to the ground. (He might be… his strong, supporting hand on the small of your back is the only thing keeping you from falling over.) You’re his doll, his pet, his soft little creature—adoring, glamorous, slightly vacant, but entirely his. And Clark, who’s nothing if not responsible and caretaking, holds you steady, a firm hand on the small of your back, guiding you as you whisper nonsense against his chest with your cheek pressed to the breast of his suit as you dance (mostly about the shape of his lips and whether or not it’s possible to get high off love alone, which he actually finds quite endearing.)

As the two of you drive away nestled into the backseat of a gleaming Cadillac, tin cans clattering behind you, you rest your head against his shoulder, sighing, your breath warm and sweet against his skin. “I love you so much I think I might die,” you murmur

Clark, ever steady, kisses the top of your head adoringly and replies, “Don’t be silly. You can’t die—you’re my wife now.”

Though the whole night Clark had been placating your lips, which sought his out, with chaste kisses so as not to disturb your friends and family—he indulges in you now when your mouth finds his. Humming into your mouth, giant hands easily guiding you backwards on the seat. Putty in his touch, you’re giggling airily into his mouth when he leans you back, and he moves his mouth to kiss along your jaw and your neck. He mouths at your collarbone, hands sliding up the front of your dress and feeling the way your corset is attached to you like skin.

Clark hums against your skin how much he loves the dress, how he earnestly hopes nothing bad happens to it tonight—he means it! He’s a sentimental guy, he wants your wedding dress to cherish in the attic for your own kids. But who knows… you can’t exactly navigate out of all the little buttons by yourself, with your clumsy hands, and who knows if he’ll be patient enough to painstakingly work through all of them himself.

You drive off into the night, into the 1950s dream—misery and responsibility and beauty, of steadfast devotion that leaves most people broken down and deflated. Though of course, your life will be one where Clark will work tirelessly, and you’ll wait for him, perfectly made-up, a cigarette perpetually nestled between your fingers. The bottles of valium nestled in the ceramic medicine cabinet will be more than enough to keep you this airy—floating in the throes of love with no troubles or concerns other than when he’ll be arriving home—for many years to come.

[rennorthernlights]

Breaking You In

Ghost X Reader/OC——————————————————————————————

Brief Summary: Hiding your identity as an Omega is nothing new but hiding it in an Elite Taskforce is harder than you thought.

Your callsign is Mustang due to your stubbornness and the “Fuck You” attitude that you tend to embody. You take your heat-blocking pills religiously until they don’t come in anymore.

Just what you need… The beginning of Pre-heat is starting to show and your losing your mind with how annoying the Lieutenant is being.

(There’s no description of what Mustang looks like. I just wanted to name her that.)

——————————————————————————————

MINORS DNI+18 AND UP ONLY Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Non-Con to Dub-Con, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Aggressive Behavior, Aggressive Sex, Spanking, Dom/Sub, Forced Submission, Overstimulation, Ghost Ain’t A Good Guy In This But He’s Hot, Forced Bonding, Forced Mating, Semi-Public Sex, Semi-Clothed Sex, Breeding Kink, Ghost Tryna Be A Dad And Daddy, Choking, Hands On Throat, Tell Me If I Missed Any

MINORS DNI+18 AND UP ONLY

——————————————————————————————

The world has a love for Alphas in the military, they’re stronger and aggressive, good for the firefights and the bullets. Dominant and steelier compared to the Betas. Many of the Alphas tend to hold the higher positions in the military just due to their second nature alone. Leading most of the military fields save for the Betas that manage to keep up with them. Even the elite Taskforces are no different due to them being chalk full of Alphas and a handful of Betas. Only the best of the best is needed after all.

Omegas on the other hand… now that’s a different story. Most Omegas that choose to work have more of the “Less-Stressful” jobs. At least that’s what the unspoken rule is supposed to be. Some old-fashioned Alphas and even Betas would say that a good Omega is an Omega with their legs spread for a knot and filled with pups. Made to only raise the young and be good for their better mates. Depending on who you talk to it’s practically looked down upon if an Omega has a job.

Docile. Sweet. Easy.

That is what the world expects of Omegas. At least that’s what THEIR world expects. When you first presented as an Omega at the young age at 12 years old you refused to stay seated. Not surprising since your moms an Alpha and your dads a Beta, if anything they were more surprised that their daughter turned out to be an Omega.

“Just keep your head down.” Is what your mother would say to you over and over again. Snapping at you when you started doing things an Alpha or Beta would do. Their own views on how to train up an Omega became demeaning and suffocating. Even going so far that when you turned 18 years old your mother set you up with an old Alpha suitor.

With no foreseeable way out and your future hanging by tiny threads you did the only thing you could think of. Something drastic and life changing that could take you far away from your parents and that would-be suitor.

You signed up for the military.

18 years old and you dived headfirst into it. Inhaling nearly every heat-blocking pill on the market to hide what you are. Going against the rules and forging your documents. It’s amazing that you haven’t been caught but as long as you keep taking the pills there’s not much to worry about. Besides your CO’s would’ve blamed you if you caused the alphas to go into a rut if you chose to keep your heats. So what if you have to take some experimental pills? It keeps you safe and keeps you far away from your parents and the old Alpha your parents wanted you to mate.

Now, that was 5 years ago. 5 years of putting blood, sweat and tears into your military career. 23 years old and you gained the nickname “Mustang” for being far too stubborn and forward for your own good. Having an argumentative streak with your CO’s and calling them out for shitty plays on the battlefield. It’s no wonder that when the Captain of the 141 read over your file that he immediately requested for you to join. Seeing the potential in you and fire in your eyes reminded him of his Beta, Gaz.

At first you thought it was a joke, a jest that he’d want someone with only 5 years of experience, at least until you realized that he was dead serious in his inquiry. The Alpha Captain became deadset on taking you under his wing to help mold you into something better.

Upon meeting the team, you got along like dry leaves in a fire when you met Gaz, a kind and ever-patient Beta Sergeant. Nearly had your minds meld together when meeting Soap, the demolition Sergeant, and in time he told you with complete trust that he’s an Omega. The 141 treat him normally and as if he’s not just his nature was very eye opening to say the least, to see a fellow Omega be treated so well nearly made you come clean. But you digress, you trust them with your life but not something like this.

You got along well, building up lifelong bonds all except for the Lieutenant… he’s as Soap likes to call him. “A spooky bastard.” Hard and tough around the edges, as prickly as a cactus and even more of a hardass when it comes to drills.

Though it’s to be expected especially from the way he’s always in a corner, brooding with hardly a tell of an emotion with that skull mask of his on. Doesn’t help that he’s always quick to spot your mistakes. Every single mistake. Quicker to growl a sneer when you butt heads. Though you hate to begrudgingly admit that you’ve learned more under his watchful eyes. Amber brown eyes that always seem to be on you the second you’re in sight.

Though it’s been like that for months; you’ve had an easy rhythm with the Sergeants and you fall right into step with the Alpha Captain but for some reason. You and the Lieutenant? It’s like the two of you can’t see eye to eye. Doesn’t help that he’s been constantly hovering over you, being an unwanted guardian as he wards off the other Betas and Alphas. His scent always around you and sometimes on you much much to the increasingly teasing Sergeants. An almost knowing look in Soaps eyes when he smelled Ghost on you… again.

Your clothes somehow carry his scent like as if he’s rolling around in it. You swear that if it wasn’t for the pills you take you would’ve gone into heat a couple months ago. It’s annoying that the Lieutenant, the bane of your existence, gets his scent on you. Wards off the guys and ladies that you used to have one-night stands with. The soldiers fearing the wrath from a man who isn’t even your mate and you hate that he’s fucking with your ability to get laid these past couple months.

It reaches a boiling point when the Captain is put on a month-long bedrest, no longer able to play mediator between the two of you. Hell, even the Sergeants have a hard time breaking up the yelling matches you both have.

“Have some fucking respect.”

“Maybe try earning it.” You growl back, postering at him like an Alpha would. The other soldiers already leaving the breakroom to not have to deal with whatevers going on between the two of you.

The latest argument you’re having is over something useless that you can’t be bothered to remember. All you know is that he said something that’s pissing you off. Doesn’t help that the latest request for your heat-blocking pills haven’t been cleared just yet. You told Price in confidence a couple months back about what your second nature is, course you got an earful, but he swore he’d keep it to his grave. Normally he’s is quick to have them sent in but since he’s been on bedrest the paperwork has just been sitting in his office desk drawer collecting dust. You’ve already been off it for a week, swallowing your immense pride, you had sent in the request to a higher up that Price trusts but for some reason they never come in.

Your body is going through the drawbacks. That scent of yours has been jumping from sour to sweet throughout the days making your hormones shoot up dangerously. Hindbrain starting to encourage your pre-heat to flush out the remaining toxins of the pills. Any other team and you’d be scared but due to how well Soap is treated, you’re not too worried. So far no one has called you an Omega or even tried to imply what you are, and you would prefer to keep it like that.

The Lieutenant scoffs at your audacity pulling you from your thoughts as you shake your head of them. “I think I’ve earned plenty of your respect since I’ve saved your hide more times than I can count,” dark amber eyes narrowed as he stares down at you. “Omega.” Smelling out your second nature and it makes you freeze up. Your hands balling into tight fists as you fight the instinct of running away. A whisper in your ear that you should just stop antagonizing him but no. No, you press on.

Standing up straighter and if your glare could deepen any more then it would. “Don’t call me that, Ghost.” Distain towards him as your scent spikes up in a sweetening anger. Pre-heat befuddling your mind as you nearly bared your throat when he called you by your nature.

“What should I call you then, Mustang?” Taking a large whiff of the room. His eyes darkening, “You smell like an Omega.” Taking a step forward and you feel more acutely aware of how it’s really just you and him in the breakroom. “Smell just like one in pre-heat too.”

He lunges forward. “Hey! What are you—?!” An alarm goes off in your head to get away as he moves far too quickly for you to scramble and evade him, large hands grabbing and shoving you against the wall. “Let go!” You yell and throw your fist forward that he easily catches. Gripping hard and snatching your other hand to force them over your head. His thigh sliding hard between your legs as you breath in sharply. “You fucking basta-“ thick fingers shove into your mouth, you gag and cough at the sudden intrusion. Eyes watering in response and you see the blatant amusement in his eyes. Anger riling up so you bite down on the fingers forcing him to yank them out.

Guess he didn’t like that as grabs your neck with the same bitten fingers. “Feisty little Omega.” Squeezing your throat causing you to gasp as his grip hardens until you start to see spots. “No wonder you’ve been acting the way you’ve been. Heat coming up now that you ain’t downing those pills. Just need an Alpha to put you in your place, yeah?” The muscles in his thigh tense as grinds it against your core. Releasing just enough pressure from your neck that makes you gasp and gulp for air. If your brain worked faster you would’ve caught on to the fact that he knows you take pills.

“F-Fuck you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” brown eyes rolling, “Always such a mouth on you.” Moving his hand down your throat, ghosting over the mounds of your breast till he cups one through your shirt and squeezes. “Maybe a knot will make you easier to work with. Make you nice and pliant. When’s the last time you’ve been fucked anyways?” A grin under his mask as he knows exactly how long it’s been for you.

Your heart beating wildly as your teeth nearly stab into your lip to bite back a moan. His thumb pressing on the nub of your nipple through your bra and shirt. “No smart mouth, no snippy remark? Guess I finally shut you up.” Smirking under his mask as he spots the table in the breakroom before looking back at you like as if he’s been given the most amazing idea. His hand moving to the back of your neck and forcing you to move.

Jerking around and fighting uselessly as he bends you over the table stomach down. Hiking your ass up to present even as you try an squirm away. Almost successful in your attempt until a hard smack resounds in the room. Eyes bulging wide as he pulls his hand back and does it again. “Ah!” Screaming out as he smacks your ass with purpose. His hand on the base of your neck keeping you face down as you squeal and pant.

A meek, defiant growl from you as he responds with another harsh smack. “Behave, Mustang. Be glad I’m not making you count them.” Tears pricking your eyes as they shut tight, having mentally lost count of it ten slaps ago.

Tears falling down your face wetting the table as you half expect another smack and yet he cups your burning ass, your pants have done nothing to shelter your cheeks as you felt every sting of the assault. “There we go.” Gasping quietly when his large fingers grasp and fondle to soothe the ache, “Already bein sweet for me.” Taking a lungful of your enticingly sweet smell, “Can smell your slick,” he states downright devilishly as you tense. Your ass stiffening while your thighs shift tightly together, your body betraying you as you hate how right he is.

Tutting disapprovingly and reaching his hand around and dipping inside your pants right when you start to protest weakly. Sliding a gloved finger harshly against your soaked panties. “Soakin my glove.” Cupping your soaked cunt as it seeps into his glove. “Naughty, naughty Omega.” Purring against your ear making you wail louder. You’d try to escape if he wasn’t pressing his whole weight down on you. Kicking your feet apart with his boot and thrusting forward, canting his strong hips against the flush of your clothed ass. Something impossibly hard pressing and rubbing against your bottom that makes your eyes roll back as his fingers graze harder on your panties in time with his thrust.

“S-Shit.. ah s-stop! Please,” you beg as it’s too much, you haven’t been sexual with anyone in a while. Especially with your hormones out of whack, his scent smells stronger, dominating and thickening in the room. Invading your nostrils, intoxicating and encouraging more wetness out of your disloyal cunt. The sensitive walls clench when he presses a finger inside, your hole clenching around the cotton, the fabric of your panties rubs against your throbbing clit. You can’t stop the moans that fall from your lips even if you wanted to.

A coil starting to curl within you. “No, no, no, ah!” Your pleas fall on deaf ears as he continues humping more aggressively. Grinding and circling his hips against yours, the table creaking under you as his strong body keeps you under him. Trapped and forced to just take it as the pleasure he’s giving you is mixing up the signals in your brain.

You don’t even realize his hand on your neck has left in favor of shucking his mask up, latching his hot mouth against the glands on your neck. Teeth grazing on the sensitive gland as the heat of his mouth sends shocks through your body. “This what you needed, pretty girl?” Whining in response when he removes his hand from inside your pants. His glove soaked with your juices. “S’why you’ve been such a brat. Had to keep pushin and pushin me till I had to do somethin about your problem.”

“N-no I-“ breath hitching as he bites on your throat, sucking harshly as you can’t find the words to speak coherently. Small mercy that he didn’t bite down too hard on the mating gland, merely sucking bruises on it. A grin etching into the skin of your sensitive throat. His tongue lapping and circling as he feels you shake and mewl under him. Having a harder time to not give into your baser needs. Body betraying you as you buck back in time with his canting hips as your hands move and fist near your face.

Finally letting up as he leans back, you breathe so hard as you look behind you through half-lidded eyes. Sweat beading around your forehead causing your hair to stick to your skin. His hands working fast to unbuckle his belt and pants. Pulling them down past his thighs and his boxers following suit. Eyes widening as you see his large thick cock already leaking pre. The flare of his knot making him seem much thicker. Cock slapping against his stomach and you know that a knot like his won’t fit. Blood pumping faster as you fear you can’t take that size in you.

Watchful molten eyes noticing how you try to shift away from him. A thick hand landing forcibly on your back to keep you still as he works on undoing your pants. Pulling them down as you stutter and beg for him not to. “No, no, no, darling. Gotta give you my knot.” Panties falling down, the ever increasing shame burns on your face as your slick slides down. “See? You want it. Need it from the looks of it.” Arms shaking and you try to hit behind you as he just laughs cruelly. Grabbing both of the flailing arms and pinning them against your back with one hand.

Your thighs instinctively try to close but he’s having none of it. Forcing your legs apart with another kick of his boot. A firm grip on your hip before sliding it under a bit to make you lift your reddened ass up. Slotting the meat of his cock through your glistening, fluttering folds. Sliding in between over and over, slowly teasing your engorged clit with the head of his thick tip.

“So fuckin wet for me. Haven’t even fucked you yet and you're pouring on my cock.” Moaning embarrassing louder as he inches the tip into your tightening hole.

A forceful push, heading deeper inside as you plead for him to pull out, to stop what he’s doing but he doesn’t hear you. Too lost in the feeling of your warm, tight cunt squeezing so nicely around him. Even with the gush of your wetness easing a bit of the stretch, it still burns. Ghost is by far the thickest you’ve ever taken. He doesn’t stop until he’s buried all the way to the hilt. “Fuck!” He murmurs lowly while his eyes shut just as yours do from the feeling of being so full.

Pussy gripping him hard, “Relax for me.” Grunting hard as he circles his hips. The hand under your hip lifts you a bit more as your mouth parts to suck in air. “You can take it. That’s a good girl.”

Hardly giving you the time to adjust as he pulls back, his tip not escaping your heat before slamming back in. Whimpering due to the electrifying shot of pain and pleasure, “P-Please, it.. it ah hurts!” Ghost murmurs something rough as tears begin to prick your eyes. His hand moves from your hip and instead of stopping his thrusts, he circles a finger around your wanting clit. Your eyes opening wide as more slick starts coming out more. Easing his large cock in you as your body starts to take him better.

“That’s it, that’s a good little slut,” slamming his hips fast as his fingers work a slow torturous pace on your bundle of nerves. “Doin so good for me Omega. Clench ‘round me baby.” Heavy balls slapping with each harsh thrust. His mouth latching against your glands, muddling your brain further as your Omega nature preens in response of being taken by this strong alpha. “Knew you’d be perfect for me. Just had to stop the pills from coming in.” His damning words not heard as he keeps up his brutal pleasuring pace. The smell of the heady sex permeate the breakroom, filthy sounds of wet slaps of thigh against thigh only enthralls your Omega nature more.

Becoming pliant as you moan and keen high in pleasure, mouth hanging open as the tip of his cock bullies into your tight cunt, making a home inside your gummy walls. His grunts and dirty words sinning against your ear as he growls about how you’re his now. That you’ll never escape him. A possessiveness scent seeping into the room as you babble useless words. His fingers, nearly forgotten due to the mind-numbing pace of his burrowing cock, start to move faster and press harder against your clit. Sliding his finger side to side just as fast as the hard smack of his balls intensifies the pleasure tenfold. “Cum for me, Omega. Wanna— agh,” grunting deeply behind you, “Wanna feel it.”

Your traitorous body gives in when he angles his hips and slams against that spot that makes you scream. Stars blurring your vision as you cum, squeezing and milking his cock as he pounds into you with renewed vigor. The tightening walls suck him back into your greedy pussy. “Gonna breed you good.” A heavy-laden promise as his eyes darkens with dangerous lust. His upper body hunching over as he presses his forehead against the side of yours as you plead for more. His hand moving from your pinned arms, placing his elbow beside your head to give himself more leverage as pistons his hips faster.

Hammering into your pussy as the wood of the table screams from the exertion and scraps against the floor. Your words bouncing against the walls, “Pl-Please, please, please!” Begging for it now. Begging for more, for his cum and his knot. Too lost in the pleasure to really understand what you’re saying. “Alpha, Alpha please!” Crying out as it’s too much and yet not enough. Overwhelming animal instinct to be bred by your strong Alpha. Arching your hips in time to feel him growl loudly, the vibrations tingling up and down your spine.

“I’m going to, Omega, I’m going to.” pulling back suddenly before slamming back into you full force with his damning vow. “I’m gonna breed you till you can’t take it.”

Pulling back out and forcibly turning you around, back now on the hard surface of the table. He looks downright predatory as he licks his lips. Yanking the rest of your pants and panties off, ripping them off even with you wearing your boots in wanton abandon, discarding them out of sight and out of mind.

His hands grabbing your ankles and placing them over his shoulders. Your boots scraping the skin of his flesh be he could give less of a fuck right now. Maneuvering your knees against your chest to fuck you deeper, feeling deliciously constricted since his body is blocking out everything from your sight. Everything but him.

“Gonna give you my knot. Make you mine in every way.” The newer position makes him feel even larger inside you. Pounding into you as your moans sound heavenly to his ears. Pressing more of his weight into you, caging you in as if his only thought is to fuck into your fertile womb. An animalistic need in his eyes as he gives into his own nature to claim the Omega under him. “You want it? Want my knot? Beg for it.”

“Want it! Want it s-so bad! Please, Alpha!” Wasting no time as you work hard to form the words. Jumbling and spilling over it but you don’t stop in your mindless pleading. Your pleading flipping a switch in him as he no longer cares about the consequences. He’ll deal with them later because right now all he wants to do is fill your pretty pussy till it overflows.

Surging forward, his teeth bites down harshly against your mating gland. Mine. Mine. Mine! Eyes rolling back to your skull as you cum faster and harder. The build up of the dam inside the both of you breaking as the swell of his knot starts to catch. Teeth digging into your neck as he intends to make the binding claim as deep as he can. Tears springing out your eyes as your legs shake in the tidal wave of pain and pleasure.

“Mine.” Growling aggressively in affirmation as he moves away from your throat and kisses you roughly, “Mine.” Mouthing the word against your swelling lips that can’t keep up with him. His hips stuttering as his muscles clench, the need for him to cum approaching faster. Balls tightening up as he forces home his thick knot inside your sensitive walls. “Mine!” His forehead falls against yours as he roars out that soul-claiming word. Hot spurts of cum filling your greedy and welcoming womb. His knot expanding wide and locking you to him for now.

“G-Gho— mph!“ his lips dominating against yours, shutting you up as he grinds his knot while his balls empties the rest of his thick seed in you. Moans being swallowed by the other in response. Tongues wrestlings as he takes hold of your boot and eases it off his shoulder. The other following suit as he wraps them loosely around his waist. Your mewls being swallowed by the hungry kiss that he gives you, possessive and devouring as he doesn’t let up. Moving his mouth down, trailing kisses and nips gently against your chin and then to your throat where the mating mark is on your neck. His permanent mark on you.

Chest against chest as you both pant heavily. The clothes worn sticking almost uncomfortably due to the sweatiness of each other. His warm tongue lapping lovingly against the mark he made before he finally leans back. His knot still keeping the both of you connected as it won’t deflate for a bit longer. The smell of the intense coupling is sure to deter anyone from even getting within 30 feet of the breakroom. Not that he’d ever let anyone see you like this. Not his pretty little mate. No, no, no, this sight is for him and him only.

Drinking in the vision of you, mellowed out and soft on the hard table. Hair spread around you like a halo, tired eyes shutting to a close, mouth open and panting. The bulge in your stomach scratches at the delicious size difference between the two of you. His cock twitches from inside you as he wonders how you’ll take him if he took your plump ass. Though an animalistic instinct demands that he not waste his seed, preferring to keep his Omega filled with his warm seed. Snug and protected safely in your precious womb.

“Ghost,” your words softer than he’s ever heard it, eyes opening as you shiver from the shift in his touching, his scent smells more welcoming. More warmth, like firewood on a cold night and the bourbon that he likes. The rare gentleness throwing you off a bit as he rocks his hips forward. A low hiss from your mouth as you’re far too sensitive and yet a slow build of pleasure starts to grow as your overstimulated pussy clenches in response. Your head turning up with a needy whine.

His lips pull back into a wolfish smile. Needy Omega he muses to himself. His Omega. “Simon.” Stating his name and he places a large warm hand over the bulge of your stomach. A primal instinct lighting up at the thought of the seed catching on the first try. Imagining you round with his pups is a black hole that he’ll gladly fall into. He didn’t mean to bite you, didn’t mean to claim you but what’s done is done.

He just wanted to fuck and get rid of his obsession over you but if he did this all over again he wouldn’t stop himself. He’d gladly bite you over and over again.

“Call me Simon.” Your breath hitching as he says his name firmly, commanding you to him by a name he rarely gives out. “Want you to say my name from now on.” His knot starting to deflate. “After all,” He may not have meant to bite you but that doesn’t mean he won’t uphold it. You’re his now. He won’t let go of you no matter how much you’ll kick and scream once your senses finally come to and the high of pleasure fades. Slowly pulling out as his potent cum spills out. Your head scrunches up, sighing pathetically from the loss of his cock.

“You’re mine now.”

His hand sliding between your shaking legs that still wrap loosely around his waist. Scooping up the cum that tries to escape, to go where it shouldn’t. A rumble in his chest, his second nature demanding to keep his Omega filled and sated. His fingers push it back in eliciting a sharp gasp. He can’t help but grin at how sensitive you are.

He leans close and as he uses his fingers as a plug. “Now be a good little mate and keep’em safe. Gotta make do on my promise to breed you after all.” His cock already starting to harden, his stamina has always been the best and he’s never broken a promise.

Ever.

[nothoughtsjustfic]

Thinking about: Nursery school teacher L.JH

💭Who: Lee Jihoon (Seventeen) x female reader 💭What: Humour. Fluff. Suggestive(18+). Established relationship. Nursery school teacher Jihoon. Single parent reader. 💭Word count: 1.9k 💭Warnings: Reader has a 5-year-old daughter. Wen Junhui is reader’s best friend and a menace. Yes, I want to point that out ahead of time. Reader is thirsty for her boyfriend and it’s very mutual. Some heavy kissing. Jihoon’s strength is mentioned as a point of interest for reader, and I just want to point that out because I think buffhoon needs a warning, okay. 💭Summary:“After almost five months, it’s time to tell your daughter that you’re in a relationship with her favourite teacher. You just hope it goes well.”

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

Masterlist Read the prequel Precious.

A/N - this was originally supposed to be very different, but when I tried to write that I got carried away and it came out at almost 12k, so that will be out at some point in February, and it shows how reader and Jihoon get together! It’s both angsty and fluffy and I really hope you’ll look forward to that! I’ll add the link above when it’s released.

It feels like it’s taken both forever and no time at all for this day to come. Even though you and Jihoon have talked about it at every chance over the past few weeks, you don’t feel at all prepared.

“You’ve got this,” Junhui encourages as he too harshly massages your shoulders once he stands behind you, just to be annoying. You yelp and jerk out of his reach to turn and slap his arm while he snickers and lets you, knowing you’ll never truly hurt him, just like he won’t you, bony thumbs in your shoulders aside.

“Why are you even still here?” You ask, trying to nudge him out of the kitchen.

“Moral support.”

“Bullshit, you just want to eat my food.”

“It’s a symbiotic relationship; I bless you with my presence and you feed me your mediocre cooking.” He cracks up cackling as you return to slapping him and even kick his thigh for good measure. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding! I taught you well!”

“Fuck off already,” you grumble and shove him away so that you can turn back to the pan and check on the progress of the contents.

“Fine, I can see when I’m not wanted,” your best friend retorts dramatically as he slinks out of the kitchen.

“Two decades too late!” Without even looking up, you just know that the man has backtracked to look at you from the doorway.

You’re proven right when you look up to see him peering at you from around the doorframe with dramatic puppy dog eyes and an exaggerated pout. “Don’t you wuv me?” He asks in an overly cutesy tone, making you fake a gag. He laughs and straightens up. “Later, loser.”

“Yeah, yeah, text me when you’re home.”

“You’re not, my mama!” He yells back, voice further away signalling he’s in the living room, which is confirmed when you hear him saying goodbye to your daughter with their usual prolonged farewell, including exchanging “I love you”sin multiple languages. Junhui doesn’t even know most of the languages, he just learned the phrases purely to tell your daughter he loves her in every way he can.

Your best friend is a strange, pain in your ass at the best of times, but you adore the everloving shit out of him, which only grew when your daughter came along, and he devoted himself to be the best uncle a little girl could ever want. Even though sometimes you say you wish he hadn’t taught her so many of his weird quirks and habits, you’re always genuinely so pleased to see your best friend in your daughter, and you hope their soul-deep bond never wavers.

When you hear the front door open minutes later, signalling that Junhui is leaving your apartment a whole half an hour later than he said he’d stay for, you hear him loudly and dramatically greeting your boyfriend.

“Juni! Guess who’s here!” Junhui sing-songs, followed by the patter of little feet before your daughter shrieks excitedly.

“Mr Lee!” She yells, and seconds later the door closes, though you hear Jihoon happily talking with Juni and a distinct lack of Junhui, proving that he’s finally gone and left you to handle this important dinner without him looming over your shoulder with a dumbass grin like a lanky, less stable Cheshire Cat.

“Smells good,” Jihoon comments as he enters the kitchen with Juni now somehow clinging to his back. You look over and smile at him in appreciation and greeting before focusing back on cooking, even if you want nothing more than to walk over and grab his precious face to plant the kiss on his lips that you’ve wanted to do since seeing him this morning at the drop off for Juni’s last day in his class.

“Mama maked your favourite!” Juni informs.

“Made,” Jihoon corrects gently and Juni hums and nods. “That’s very kind of her.”

“Yes,” Juni agrees. “You need to say thank you.”

“Ah, you’re right, I do,” Jihoon replies, amusement lacing his tone as he moves closer while effortlessly holding Juni up with only one hand under her backside.

You eye his arm with a squint, half sulking that he can so easily carry your daughter when it takes you both arms to achieve now that she’s getting bigger, but the other half of you is sulking because his usual work attire of casual yet smart, long-sleeved, button-up shirts hides his strong muscles from your gaze.

Jihoon says your name amusedly, making you look up at him instead of practically glaring at his sadly hidden, bulging bicep and find him smirking at you, well aware that you’re trying to burn away his shirt with your intense stare to get a look at your boyfriend’s strong arms.

Of course, he can’t say anything about it with your daughter literally attached to him and observing the pair of you in wait for Jihoon to show his appreciation for your thoughtfulness, so he just smirks around his words. “Thank you for making my favourite for dinner tonight, I appreciate the time and effort it takes to make, and I’ll eat it well.”

“You’re welcome, Jihoon,” you reply, purposely using his first name even though you usually call him Mr Lee in front of Juni so that she doesn’t gain the habit of calling him improperly at school.

As expected, it makes her perk up with a gasp. “Is that your real name, Mr Lee?!”

“Yeah, Nini, my name’s Jihoon, and now that I’m no longer your teacher, you can call me Jihoon when we’re not at school,” he answers and carefully swings her around from his back, with an unfair amount of ease, so that he can plop her backside on the counter in front of him.

“I have to say Mr Lee at school?”

“Yeah, even though Mr Kwon will be your teacher next year, I’m still a staff member and you have to call all staff by our surnames, don’t you.”

“Why?”

“It’s respect. We’re older and in charge of teaching and looking after you, so you should show your teachers and support staff respect.”

“Oh, otay,” she agrees simply and swings her legs a little as she looks over to watch what you’re doing. “When dinner ready, mama? I’m hungry.”

“Not long now, baby,” you promise. “You probably have time for another episode.”

“Yay!” Juni cheers and lifts her arms towards Jihoon, so he picks her up to place on her feet on the tiled flooring and lets her run off to the living room to watch another ten-minute episode of her current favourite show, even if you’re certain she’s already seen each one multiple times at this point.

Jihoon stands at the kitchen doorway to peer through to the living room and wait for Juni to be settled on the couch with her duck plushie, Bubba, in her arms and attention glued to the TV, before he stalks over to you and grabs your face to kiss you passionately.

You can’t help but whimper at the intensity of the kiss while eagerly going along with it, wrapping your arms around his neck as he backs you against the fridge with a firm grip on your hips.

It’s not a long kiss at all, yet you’re both panting when you pull apart and he knocks his forehead lightly against yours before settling there to catch his breath.

“Wanted to do that all fucking day,” he admits in a low murmur.

“I think you would’ve been fired if you kissed me like that on the playground,” you muse, earning a soft chuckle.

Jihoon presses a disarmingly sweet and short kiss to your tingling lips before letting go and backing up, making you pout disapprovingly. Of course, he notices and smirks at you teasingly. “What’s the matter, baby?”

“Get your ass back here, Lee Jihoon,” you demand, pointing to the spot right in front of you.

“But dinner,” he gasps theatrically, and you think he’s been spending too much time with Junhui and Soonyoung aka Mr Kwon.

Who, apparently, Junhui once knew from his teen dance group and the pair have decided to rekindle their friendship full of dance and theatrics, which they use to tease yourself and Jihoon whenever the four of you get together while Juni is with her sweet as sugar best friend, Danil.

“It’s fine, come here,” you whine, trying to grab his shirt but he remains just out of arms reach and you don’t move your back away from the fridge.

Another dramatic gasp accompanies his next jibe, “But Juni is-” he cuts off with a yelp when you suddenly lean forward enough to grab a fistful of his shirt over his chest and yank him in. He stumbles into place in front of you and catches himself with his forearms on the fridge either side of your head.

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

“So demanding,” he murmurs and slides one hand down the metal surface until he can fit his palm against your jaw before tilting his head forward to slot your lips together.

You keep one hand against his chest, feeling his contently thudding heart against your palm, as your other holds onto his waist and encourages him closer when his tongue swipes teasingly against your lips.

Of course, you don’t hesitate to return the gesture and let your tongues find each other to slide together and make him moan softly in approval and pleasure, causing the warmth beginning to fizzle under your skin to burn brighter.

Maybe Jihoon had been right, even if he had just been trying to wind you up and tease, as a sudden, loud gasp from the doorway sounds and alerts you to the fact that your daughter is suddenly present.

In an instant, the two of you pull apart and try to look like you weren’t just tongue deep in each other’s mouths as you face Juni.

You open your mouth to try to explain and tell her the news you were really hoping to be a post-dinner conversation, yet Juni beats you to the punch.

“Are you boyfriend-girlfriend?!” She shrieks.

“Uhm,” you respond eloquently, then look at Jihoon, who is already turning to look at you. You share a look with your boyfriend, silently deciding that you might as well just get it over with before you look at Juni and nod slightly. “Yeah.”

Juni stares at you with wide eyes for a moment before she excitedly yells then runs over to attach herself to you both at once while blabbering about being happy that you are finally boyfriend-girlfriend. You decide to tell her at a later point that you’ve actually been “boyfriend-girlfriend” with her previous teacher for four months already and dating for a few weeks before that.

You and Jihoon exchange a surprised yet pleased look at how easy this was and how enthusiastic your daughter is about your relationship, though silently just decide to accept this blessing for what it is and simply get to work setting up the table for dinner.

When everything is in place, you both sit down with Juni at the head of the table between you like always, while remaining wordlessly relieved that you don’t have to awkwardly explain exactly what you and Jihoon kissing means.

Before you can help Juni when she struggles to reach her cup, Jihoon silently reaches out to move it within her reach so that she can pick it up with both hands carefully.

“Thank you, daddy,” Juni says innocently, just as Jihoon takes some of his own drink into his mouth, making him promptly choke and spray the liquid over his plate in shock.

Okay, maybe you do need to explain it a bit, after all.

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Permanent taglist: @okiedokrie, @tusswrites, @svtiddiess

[redtsundere-writes]

john price x waitress!reader | mdni +18

Is there anything worse than working at 3am? You were already on your third cup of coffee of the night, it didn’t wake you up anymore, it just gave you heartburn. Being a waitress at a 24/7 diner is not for the weak. Putting up with long hours at the counter, cleaning toilets after the partygoers puked all over them, and serving truck drivers with a smile even though they catcalled your ass every time you walk by. This was supposed to be a temporary job to save up for college, but you’ve been here for 5 years now.

Tonight didn’t seem any different from the rest until you saw him arrive. Full beard, confident walk, know-it-all eyes, lumberjack shirt. “A damn soldier,” you thought annoyed. You already knew how to identify them since they were the worst type of customer. Besides the catcalling, they’re the ones who try to sleep with the waitresses on their nights off before returning to base. Luckily, he arrived alone so he wouldn't be much a problem.

You offered him the menu and coffee from the pot with a well-trained smile. He told you he just wanted a coffee. Strange that someone would leave their house at three in the morning for a $3 cup of coffee. Even stranger that he would add whiskey from a canteen to it. He seemed to notice your confused look.

"It's for texture." He said, mixing the coffee with his spoon.

"A bad night?" You asked.

"That's putting it mildly." He scoffed.

"There's nothing a cinnamon roll can't fix." You offered in your best saleswoman voice, looking to earn your tip.

He had a rich laugh, maybe it was the British accent, or maybe it was that he was a gentleman who invited you to chat while he drank his coffee with the cinnamon roll. You learned that his name was John, but everyone calls him Price. He was a soldier (you already knew that), but one of those soldiers who were excellent at their job. He was forty years old, he liked to gamble at the racetrack, and he was divorcing his wife.

You felt bad for him, really. Ending a marriage after 15 years had to be complicated. Especially if that marriage was filled with fights, conception issues, and long months of not seeing each other. Price told you that his wife had kicked him out of their house after another huge fight and drove aimlessly until she found the only restaurant open in the wee hours of the morning. Poor thing. You just wanted to make him feel better.

Fucking him in his car wasn't the way you were going to help him, but you weren't complaining. His hands, calloused from experience, held your waist tightly to keep you in place as he slammed his cock into your wet pussy. Your face was hidden in his neck, his beard tickling your cheeks. You moaned his name as he spread your ass to slam his dick deeper.

Price grunted incoherently at how good you felt. He hadn't had satisfying sex since his poor wife had her second miscarriage. He shouldn't be doing this, you were too young for him. But all morals escaped his reach as he felt your wet pussy, hugging his cock so warmly.

Before he could stop himself, he came inside you. It felt so good that you couldn't even get mad at the moment. You hugged him around the neck, sitting on his throbbing cock as the gentleman caught his breath. Price adjusted the skirt of your pink uniform. He gave you a couple of pats and a tickling kiss on the cheek before he got you off his lap.

The last you heard from him was that he left you a nice tip the next day to buy a morning after pill like a gentleman. To your terrible luck, it didn't seem to work out. Looks like the Shark Week premiere got postponed.

Masterlist.

[parker-artio]

The Batfamilys ages don’t make sense.

Or me dissecting the timeline of when the bats first met and why their ages are fucked up!

This is a lot of math that I did mentally while washing the dishes, I apologize if some of it is inaccurate, but I did the best I could.

(And yes, well all know their ages are fucked up, but I realized they’re a lot more fucked up then anyone first notices)

-I am ONLY doing the main family btw-

SO-

The very first Batfamily members to meet were Bruce and Alfred, it was kinda straightforward, Bruce was a baby Alfred was around the same age as his parents at early to mid 20’s.

List of the ages so far:

(I will be doing this every time)

Alfred Pennyworth: 24 ish

Bruce Wayne: 8



The second was Bruce and Dick (obviously), but this is kinda a odd one, but it’s still straightforward, Bryce went to The Flying Grayson’s show, he saw his parents die, and Y’know he decided right then and there he was going to be a foster parent. Good for him. But Dick is mentioned to be about like from 8 to 9 here. It’s more implied that he’s 8, because it’s supposed to be a parallel thing, to Bruce, with both of his parents dying in front of him at 8- so that the age I’m going to use for the beginning of this.

Bruce was supposed to be Batman for about 2-3 years before he took in Dick, so that’s what I’m going by to assume his age. (DC admit this man is mid fourths to early fifty’s , stop saying he’s early 40’s- he’s clearly not.) So he dropped out of college pretty early on, so I’d say like 19? Then he went on his trip around the world for a year or so and ended up at the League of Assassins to where he stayed for like- 2 to 4 years before he came back to Gotham. So I’m going to use the median of 2 and 4 and get that it was 3 years. (Same with the years before he took dick in, rounding out to 2.5) therefore Bruce was about- 23.5 ish when he took in Dick. And if you do some subtraction he’s only 17 years older than Dick, which works in a basic timeline of there being a couple references to Bruce being a ‘teen dad’.

Ages so far:

Alfred Pennyworth: 39 ish

Bruce Wayne: 23.5 ish

Richard Grayson: 8

Say what you want, but Barbara is apart of the batfam- I know some people like to say she’s a bit like Huntress and isn’t- but to me she is. She is the original Batgirl, and is very much apart of the Batfamily to me.

So she’s older than Dick, I’m not sure how much older, but I’m her first appearance (when she wasn’t being shipped with Bruce) she was about 2 years older than him (?- I think I can’t find anything on google with any confirmation and I don’t have old comics on hand rn).

But her first appearance was when Robin (dick) was about 12-13, I’m just gonna put 12.5 for the sake of putting 12.5.

Meaning her first appearance was when she was about 14 ish. And was about- 6 years later.

Ages so far:

Alfred Pennyworth: 45 ish

Bruce Wayne: 29.5 ish

Richard Grayson: 12.5

Barbara Gordon: 14

The next is Bruce meeting Jason. To figure out the ages here we first need to figure out the amount of time between him meeting Dick and meeting Jason. So let’s talk about the age gap between Jason and Dick.

It’s believed that their age gap is from 5-8 years, so let’s just go to the middle and say it’s 6.5 years. Jason is supposed to be 12 when Bruce first meets him, when he trying to tirejack the Batmobile. So if we add 6.5 to 12, Dick is about 18, meaning it’s been around 10 or so years. Which actually lines up believe it or not. (The old writers could actually stick to a timeline unlike the newer ones.)

But I can’t find any older comics to figure out if Bruce took Jason in right then and there, or he saw him again about a year later and took him in then. So let’s just say Jason is 12.5 when Bruce takes him in.

Ages so Far:

Alfred Pennyworth: 49 ish

Bruce Wayne: 33 ish

Richard Grayson: 18

Barbara Gordon: 20 (This also would be post paralysis as she was 19 when it happened)

Jason Todd: 12.5

When Tim comes into the family is when it gets confusing. We’re not even starting with the first time he met the family, we’re starting back with Flying Grayson’s Show.

So, Dick as we’ve established is 8. Jason is about 6.5 years younger than him. Making Jason about 1.5 when the show happens, but a very often mentioned age gap in all of the batkids- is between Tim and Jason. As Tim was 13 when Jason died. Jason was 16. Tim was 16 when Jason came back. And Jason was 19.

It’s a three year gap, therefore, Tim couldn’t have attended that show. But I don’t think anyone did the math there, meaning that’s where the first timeline inconsistency starts to occur. But it’s okay, because in a few versions Dick was said to be about 11, meaning Jason would’ve been 4ish and Tim about a year old. Most babies don’t remember stuff that happens in this time, but it is possible, so I’ll just scratch it up to multiple different world and the writers forgetting.

But when Tim does finally meet the family he is 13, as it is right after Jason’s death when he is 16, he becomes Robin because Dick basically hands him the suit, when Tim tells him Batman needs a new Robin, and yeah.

So a three year gap. Timeline a bit messed up, but it can’t get that much worse, right? (Wrong.)

Ages so far:

Alfred Pennyworth: 52 ish

Bruce Wayne: 36ish

Richard Grayson: 21

Barbara Gordon: 23

Jason Todd (assumed dead): 16

Tim Drake: 13

So the next person is always a bit confusing, some think it’s Steph, others think it’s Cass, but Cass was batgirl first, however Steph was Spoiler first- They kinda started at about the same time- so I’ll just smush em in together.

So Cass is said to be older than Jason by only months. And they both come in at about a year of Tim being Robin, putting Cass at 17, which also doesn’t line up with the timeline, as Bruce says she is 16 (I can’t find the panel but it’s in one of he 2000’s runs I believe I can’t confirm exactly) but it’s close in age, so I’ll let it go.

Steph is said to be both the same age as Tim, but other times older, so I’m going to place her at 15 here. A year older than Tim since it’s only been a year since Tim started as Robin.

Ages so far:

Alfred Pennyworth: 53 ish

Bruce Wayne: 37 ish

Richard Grayson: 22

Barbara Gordon: 24

Jason Todd (assumed dead at 16): 17

Tim Drake: 14

Cassandra Cain: 17

Stephanie Brown: 15

So the next is Damian- obviously.

So Damian is 10 when he comes, it’s mentioned multiple times. Yay an easy to confirm age, we love it!

Jason also comes back.

However Tim is mentioned to be 16 here, so we can easily just get everyone’s ages from doing the math from their ages previously. Most people when calculating their ages skip Steph and Cass and say it’s a six year gap between him and Tim, which does line up, but without Steph an Cass there it still fucks with the timeline a bit.

Ages so far:

Alfred Pennyworth: 56 ish

Bruce Wayne: 40 ish

Richard Grayson: 25

Barbara Gordon: 27

Jason Todd (now alive again): 19

Tim Drake: 16

Cassandra Cain: 19

Stephanie Brown: 17

Damian Wayne: 10

Now we’re on Duke. Which is where it gets all fucked up.

So Google says Duke is four years older than Damian, and his first appearance is when Damian is 11 or 12iah, making Duke about 15 or 16, in his first appearance. But also in this time, DC stopped aging Tim all together, they supposedly aged Cass down, and Steph closer to Jason’s age. Which fucks the whole timeline up, but let’s not get into that.

We can just go from Damian’s age to get the rest, meaning it was a two or so year gap from Damian arriving to when Duke first started in the ‘I Am Robin’ movement and soon after became Signal

Ages so far:

Alfred Pennyworth: 58 ish

Bruce Wayne: 42 ish

Richard Grayson: 27

Barbara Gordon: 29

Jason Todd: 21

Tim Drake: 18

Cassandra Cain: 21

Stephanie Brown: 19

Damian Wayne: 12

Duke Thomas: 16

This is what their ages would’ve been if they didn’t continue to age Damian up and no one else, so here’s what ages they SHOULD be. (This is for you Tim.)

Since Damian is 14-15 in comics currently- everyone should be a bit older too- but DC refuses to age them up. (I’m going to use 15 just because, making it a THREE year difference.)

Ages they should be:

Alfred Pennyworth: 61 ish (I don’t care if he’s dead)

Bruce Wayne: 45 ish

Richard Grayson: 30

Barbara Gordon: 32

Jason Todd: 24

Tim Drake: 21

Cassandra Cain: 24

Stephanie Brown: 22

Damian Wayne: 15

Duke Thomas: 19

Someone needs to ask Duke how college is going, or ask Tim how it feels to drink. Maybe someone should ask Dick how a mid-life crisis feels, when you’re actually close to the mid-life age. (He’s had them before, but now he’s actually closer to the midlife age.) Have someone ask Bruce how it feels to be in his 40’s and still get called hot, to get called ‘beekeeper age’ by people- and still get voted hottest man of the year, yearly.

There’s so many untapped humor opportunities that come with their chronologically accurate ages. But DC is full of pussies.

#DCpleaseletTimage

[jenosbigtoe]

the way you write alpha jeno has me so feral omfg . . . could you maybe write alpha!jisung ?? i just luv him

mdni. nsfw 18+

pairing: childhood best friend!alpha!park jisung x omega!reader

warnings: slight angst, idiots in love, jealous ji, fingering, unprotected sex

you were tired of playing games with him. jisung has been your best friend since 5 years old. he knows you better than you even know yourself. so he should’ve gotten your hints by now.

you’ve been in love with jisung for so so long now. when you presented as an omega and he presented as an alpha shortly after, you could barely hide your excitement. in your eyes, this meant you were a match made in heaven. you were destined to be his omega just as he was destined to be your alpha.

from then on, you started being so affectionate with him, always attaching yourself to his side and following him wherever he went. rubbing your scent against him and claiming him as yours. you practically lived at his apartment, sleeping in his bed every night and wearing his clothes to bask yourself in his delicious scent.

but he always just treated you like he always had, his childhood best friend. it drove you crazy. you wanted him to court you, to claim you, to make you his mate, his omega officially. you wanted to show off the mark he would give you, flaunting to everyone that this alpha was yours.

and eventually you just got fed up. for two years, you were tired of everything being so one sided. it was obvious to you that at this point your feelings would never be reciprocated, that you would always be just a best friend in his eyes. no matter how much love and affection you gave him, he would never make you his omega.

so you started avoiding him. not picking up his calls, barely ever hanging out, never going to his apartment anymore. this strange 180 in behavior had poor jisung so confused. what did he even do wrong? you used to be so affectionate with him and now you won’t even look at him. how could he make it up to you when he didn’t even know what he did? he hated seeing you so upset with him and he had no idea why. he missed you and your presence so much he was going crazy without you.

so imagine his surprise when he goes to your apartment with a bouquet of flowers and a bundle your favorite chocolates to make it up to you but he sees you in the arms of another alpha. getting all cozy and sitting your ass right on his lap.

“what the fuck.” he fumed at the sight of you wrapped up in this nameless alpha’s arms on the couch you once cuddled with him countless times.

“hey what are you doing here? get out, jisung!” you screamed, throwing a pillow at his face.

the other alpha looked embarrassed and confused, like he didn’t want to be caught up in the mess about to unfold. “uh, y/n, i don’t want to be between all of this… let’s just meet up another time.” he slowly got up and ran out the door, leaving you and jisung in a dangerous staring contest.

“great, look what you did, jisung,” you grumbled. “ruining everything, as always.”

his eyes lit up with a terrifying fire. “what the fuck? what i did? so you’re telling me i’m supposed to let my omega be upset with me and ignore me for weeks? and i don’t even know what i did wrong. but when i come back to apologize for whatever i did and find my omega wrapped up in another alpha’s arms, i’m just supposed to take it?” his voice got dangerously low as he slowly walked over to you.

you finally looked at him with furrowed eyebrows and a look of sheer anger. “your omega? who said i was your omega, you stupid fucking alpha.”

he growled, something in him snapping as he lunged toward you and pinned you down on the couch underneath him. “oh so you wanna act stupid now, huh? act like you’re not my omega, like you’re not my mate. act like you haven’t been mine since we presented, and you became my omega and i became your alpha.”

you squirmed against his weight but his strength kept you from moving. his face held a dangerous expression. you could feel his breath tickle your cheeks from how close his head was to yours.

“w-what are you talking about?” you whimpered. “i’m not your omega. you never courted me, never marked me, never made us official. as far as i knew, i was just your best friend since childhood.”

“what happened to that brat i was just talking to a second ago? you wanna act so innocent now, when you just got caught with another alpha,” jisung spoke through gritted teeth. he reached one hand up to grip your chin and force you to look him in the eyes. “look at me. submit, omega.”

tears pricked your eyes. “m sorry, ji. but i don’t know what you’re talking about. i thought you knew i was in love with you but didn’t want to be anything more than friends.”

his gaze softened at your tears, but you could still see the fire raging in his eyes. “what are you talking about, baby?”

“i’ve been in love with you since forever, ji. but i thought you didn’t want to be anything more than friends. i thought i made my feelings so obvious. but you never made us official or said anything about me being your mate or even your girlfriend after all this time. so i got tired of waiting for you to love me back.” at this point, fat tears rolled down your cheeks in droves.

jisung let go of your chin to wipe your tears away and got up from on top of you to sit you on his lap. “oh baby… i didn’t know you suffered all this time because of me.” he sighed and wrapped his arms around your waist to rest his head on the crook of your neck. “i’ve seriously been in love with you this whole time too. i thought you knew you were mine all this time. i thought it was pretty obvious from the way i treat you how special you are to me. i mean, i don’t just let any omega sleep in my bed every night and wear my clothes. just because i never gave you my mark, doesn’t mean you haven’t been my omega all this time. and who’s to say i wasn’t courting you for the past two years? you’re special to me, omega, and not just because you’re my best friend. you’re special to me because i love you and i want to be the only alpha you see.”

you let out soft sobs, feeling so stupid for acting like this with him. “oh my god, ji… i am so sorry…”

he lifted up his head from your neck and gave you a deep kiss, passion flowing from his lips onto yours. you ran your fingers through his hair, letting out sighs of pleasure. he sucked on your bottom lip, as if to ask for permission, before sticking his tongue into your mouth.

but then he broke away, leaving you pouting and chasing his lips for more. “baby, let me make it up to you. let me make it up to my omega.”

he gave you a small peck on the lips before lifting you up off the couch and carrying you bridal style back to your bedroom. he carefully laid you down on your bed before climbing back on top of you, caging you in with his body. you giggled softly before pulling him back for another passionate kiss. you began to take your clothes off, never once breaking contact.

“so needy for you, alpha. please touch me,” you whimpered, rubbing your legs together and grinding up lightly against his body.

jisung groaned. “fuck, so beautiful, omega. you know you’re mine now, right?”

he reached one hand down to tease your little pussy. he rubbed two fingers up and down your slit, collecting your juices and using them to pump his fingers in and out of your hole. you clenched and gushed around his slender fingers, bucking your hips against his hand.

“f-fuck! ji, stop teasing,” you whined.

he smirked and added another finger. he pumped his fingers in and out, rubbing against your sweet spot and making you moan out in pleasure.

“ahhhh…. alpha…”

you were dripping, pussy wet and glistening from arousal. you looked up into his eyes to see his pupils dark and blown. you grabbed his wrist to keep him from continuing his playing with your pussy. “fuck me now, alpha. waited too long for this,” you said seriously.

jisung pressed a hot kiss against your mouth and threw your legs over his shoulders as he suddenly shoved his fat cock deep into your little cunt. you screamed out in pleasure. he filled you up so good, so perfectly. he felt so big for your tight cunt but no one could ever compare to how he made you feel. every ridge on his cock rubbed against your pussy so deliciously. he was made for you.

“ah fuck, omega,” he groaned as his hips drove deep into yours. “mine. my girl, my omega, my mate.”

tears filled your eyes. this was everything you had ever wanted. “alpha…”

as he pounded his cock relentlessly into your dripping cunt, he leaned his head down to rest on your neck. his teeth lightly grazed at your scent gland before roughly biting, breaking the skin just enough to draw blood.

now you were officially his omega and he was officially your alpha. no more doubting ever again.

a/n: i actually have a serious problem of making these soooo long and it takes forever to answer these requests. but i really love alpha ji so much i can’t help it 😖

[kuntprodukt]

AMATO AMAR PERDONA

notes: the title is taken from The Divine Comedy, Canto 5(second circle) of Inferno. Initially this was an idea I wanted to include in my other fanfiction, so I guess this can be considered as a bonus.

Priest Leon S. Kennedy x female reader | 18+ MDNI. smut, female reader, light religious themes, Leon is a priest, blowjob, blasphemy kink, improper use of confessional booth, snowball kiss, semi public sex.

tags: @sprawberry

After years of fighting B.O.W, he finally sets on something calm, helping and saving people without risking his own life, but as time passes by, a bitter realization hits Leon harder than he expected; that not everyone was born for this. Maybe it is adrenaline addiction or without noticing he had found comfort in his misery at that time, but he is grateful that the routine incorporated easily into one’s life as deeds accumulate, overshadowing any thoughts about changing his life again and he didn’t have any other way other than focusing on the work.

The church is old and is not located in the best place, which tends to have windy weather. He suspected those are reasons why the building doesn’t have a lot of visitors, not like people are deeply religious nowadays either. Sometimes it feels like walls are thinner than paper, the wind brushes and whispers sweet, quiet nothings, barely audible to human ears while Leon prepares for his tasks or just lollygags during his free time. It has been said that airy currents can bring many unwanted things; pebbles, the leaves during the autumn season and the smells that disclose people’s secrets. He could never have expected it to bring a woman into his life, making it more colorful than any light arrays coming from the glass-stained windows in his church. From a small spark, a Great flame has risen.

The only thing he needed to do was to help you with your husband’s funeral, but he fucked this up. Really fucked up all this, his mind was repeating multiple times that it was his job to console you, he should have put down your little advances, but he couldn’t, deep down the urge to delve into something prohibited was stronger. The conflict between his morality and passion had died down in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Your appearance was like a quick bullet going through his routine and destroying it, adding the thrill that consumed the guilt he was supposed to feel. Little touches of your fingers, while no one is looking, quickly have moved to more intimate encounters, indulging in each other’s body on the altar, under the eyes of Jesus.

Some days, even the confessional booth was filled with your voice, telling him your desires and how much you want him to fuck your brains out of your head, to make you a dumb slut in front of the son of God and there has never been a trace of shame in your words. A long time ago he deduced a devil would sound like you; with a sweet-sweet intonation describing, in the holy place and not trying to hide all details, how his cock would fill nicely your pussy. Leon’s mind didn’t help much in those cases either. It has always vividly recalled how good your moans echo against the walls of the church. Either there is no need to imagine anything he hasn’t already done in this building, every cranny has heard and the All-seeing eye has witnessed you indulging in the temptation of each other’s body. The gentle love transforms into a deadly sin, but it is better to suffer in hell together, than alone.

His cock was already hard, tucked out, stroking it with his hand while his blue eyes are set on your knelt state. He tugs your hair, pulling you closer to his aching length, pushing it against your lips. They almost envelop its head, the soft and plush skin of them on it, he keeps tracing and brushing his tip, smearing a little bit of his already leaking precum but not letting you go any further. Almost all day passed without even a light touch which is too much for him, a man like him can have a quick good time, and teasing himself was a bad decision.

“Daddy Kennedy, that’s not polite to make a lady wait” Your tongue peeks out to lick away the bitter substance on your lips, teeth bite down slightly on the lower skin after tongue retreated. His grip on your hair tightened, cracking out a smile and pushing your head closer now.

“It is ‘Father Kennedy’” his correction leaves his mouth quickly, leading to a light slap on your lips with his cock as a silent command to open your mouth. “and I still didn’t hear any holy words from this mouth”

You loll out the tongue, feeling him dragging his leaking head against the exposed wet surface, smearing and filling your tastebuds with the bitterness of his precum, which makes more saliva pool in your mouth. The man in front of you not only teases himself but you too.

“What do we say?” He inquires breathlessly, his blue orbs almost shining from intensity and heat in the dimly lightened booth. He slaps his cock on your tongue inducing a soft wet sound to escape when it connects with the flesh.

“O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended you and corrupted your man.” Your eyes keep the contact with Leon’s as the prayer leaves your mouth quickly, something you have already repeated a billion times and he is already familiar with those words, not his first time to hear from one’s lips and it wouldn’t be the last time. This is so boring in the end, repenting feverly about something you can’t help but spit on. So why not alter it? Punishment is much more tempting than forgiveness. Your lips ghost on his aching cock, movements of your tongue brush more against the tip, flicking ‘accidentally’ at it and leaving him to covet for more. “Alas, I don’t detest all my sins cause the pain of hell is more alluring than the pleasures of heaven”

“Do I need to teach you everything?” Leon’s voice breaks the silence with a rough tone after you alter the prayer. You wish he would strike you, but he doesn’t. His attention shifts, watching a string of saliva dripping along his flesh from the tip of your tongue. Your eyes are on his face, meeting his gaze and not wavering. “Don’t you have any shame in that body of yours? Carrying on your whoring so openly in front of me” There is a silence, but even with the lack of his order you can grasp what he wants right now; the grip on your hair lessens, letting you be more free in your actions. “But be not afraid, my dove, this don’t disgust me, I am here to absolve you from your sins”

You don’t need to be ordered around to know what he implies. His body shudders when your lips embrace his cock in the wet and warm sensations around him, your hand slides down with your mouth along the length until you reach the base. Leon doesn’t notice how his own palm returns its grip on your hair, his hips buck up pushing you deeper to get more from your mouth already. A greedy bastard you would call him. Deep inside guilt tries to crawl out, but your mouth around him let this bullshit disappear and focus on how your tongue flicks against the head, playing with the sensitive spot under the tip, while your hand keeps pumping along the flesh, spreading the dripping saliva with every stroke. The acolyte corrupted by a widow, he should be drowning in guilt and beg for forgiveness of the Lord, but the sight of you in between his legs reminds him that God can’t give a blowjob in the confessional booth, maybe is that what’s tempting.

“Forgive me Father for I have sinned, my last confession was a year ago” Leon’s ears catch another woman’s voice, pulling him out of overflowing pleasure. This can’t be you, your mouth is busy with his cock and for a brief moment, he felt his blood hitch in his veins, at this hour usually there are no visitors, but seems this isn’t your lucky day. Your head halts its movements, keeping his cock in your warm and wet mouth, looking at him with a clear surprise. An idea sparkles in your mind, and you try to move more, to push his buttons and see him struggle cause of your doings, but his hand prevents this by giving a quick tap on the back of your head; ‘Don’t move’. A quiet sob before a trembling voice speaks up again. “I accuse myself of adultery, I have been eyeing and lusting for the man who isn’t my husband, God, I-…I am so sorry”

O the irony of the situation having someone confess the sin of lust while you are kneeling in between his legs. His hand grips harder your hair to tilt your head better so the tip rubs against the soft and velvet of your cheek, stretching it and he can feel your drool roll down, staining his pants. Leon takes a brief peek at the shadowed figure in the grilled window, trying to recollect himself. Shaky breath leaves his lips, listening to a woman’s words fill the space, his blue eyes dart down to your messy frame; trying to swallow your saliva. Leon can’t keep still himself, his hips start rolling into your mouth, enjoying the wetness of your tongue brushing along his sliding length. The pleasure makes it too hard to stay still, making him greedier for more. Your tongue flicks on his tip every time his cock moves back and forth slowly, leading his head rests against the wooden wall behind him, his half-lidded gaze keeps eye contact with you.

“Have you given into the temptation?” Leon asks. His voice feels so sensual to your ears, but they aren’t addressed to you. The poor woman whispers something, but you don’t catch her words cause your attention is mostly on the dick in your mouth.

His cock slides further, the tip rubs against the back of the throat provoking it to squeeze and tighten around him nicely and you try not to gag, not to sink too deep but your efforts are useless. His grip holds you well as he pushes you lower, highlighting his control over you right now. Drool drips more, its excess gathering at the corners of your mouth. There can be heard some noises coming from you, sending pleasant vibrations over every nerve of his body, but those wet sounds get muffled by his own heavy voice and shaky voice, trying to control it and not to get caught. This wouldn’t do anything good for his reputation.

“I can hear you rue your sin… my child, so…” he swallows hard, pausing to admire your messy state; eyes are watered, some tears roll down and your cheeks are stained with mascara, your face starts to get redder and the lack of oxygen makes you feel lightheaded, holding your breath to not mess with your gag reflex. “God is… All-forgiving..” Another heavy sigh leaves his mouth, trying to control his voice and not to groan as you swallow the excess saliva, provoking another jolt of pleasure running through his body. The warmth and how you struggle made him almost choke on the moan and forget what he was saying. If not for that lady, he would be already face fucking you without any obstacles. He swallows hard again, his tone is lower now, but there is an audible shakiness. “Repent your sins and pray to be shielded” A pause, staring at you with a darkened and burned gaze. “By the temptation of the devil… my child“

He knows well who is the devil here. His voice almost breaks in a high-pitched tone at the end of the sentence, when he rolled his hips into you, again to grind his tip into the back of your throat, his leaking tip from precum fills your taste buds again and you swallow some of the salivas, making tight walls clench around him, almost begging to cum. Personally, Leon doesn’t have the patience to keep that visitor any longer here, it gets much harder to keep his voice steady and right now his own pleasure is much more important than one’s problem. And he is nothing but a man. Hearing a mumble of prayer on the other side of the booth. His grip lessens on your hair, giving you control of your movements. You pull back, letting air to reach your lungs finally. Your lips create a strand of saliva between his dick and your glistening and swollen lips, inhaling greedily for air, while his mouth is covered by palm, trying to not groan which threatens to crawl out from his lips cause of the messy sight in front of him. His struggle is like an addiction, you can’t stay away from him right now, your lips return to pepper his cock with kisses, making him twitch in the hot air of narrow space and you sink down with your mouth, sucking on the tip while hand returns to pump his length, watching him struggling not to moan. Too bad he got lucky, the other voice ceased to exist, leaving him with you.

“That’s how you pray, sweet dove” Leon teases, the corners of his lip tugging up into a smirk. You hum, sending another wave of pleasure. Another flick and he feels his balls tighten, his cock throbbing in your mouth and his fingers return to your hair, taking control of your movements back into his hands. “Such a good little thing, fuck…” Leon mumbles, feeling beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He chases the rising pleasure in his body, his hips bucking to meet your face. Deepening thrusts, his head grinds against your throat. Another low moan escapes his lips. “Sucking so well, God made you for this, right?”

All he can see is your messy face, sloppily taking him so well, Leon is so focused on you and your mouth, his orgasm approaches quicker than he expected. His body shudders and with the last thrust his cock throbs for the last time and spurts out a load of cum, filling your mouth. His legs feel numb, and with a heavy gaze he is watching your mouth fill with his fluid so well. Leon’s mind is still under the influence of his orgasm and the post-nut clarity doesn’t hit him, so he doesn’t register how you get up so quickly, your hand lays on his stubbled cheek to pull him into a kiss. Mouth opened kiss. Your tongue doesn’t shy to intrude into his mouth, sloppily kissing him and passing the warm, slightly sticky, and salty substance into his mouth. His own cum. His taste. It fills his mouth and a moan crawls out against your lips. He pulled you tightly against his body, kissing you back harder, tongue probing and sliding against each other, playing and mixing his cum with your salivas. His Adam’s apple bobs and he swallowed it, the devil cocktail, feeling hot underneath his collar. Leon pulls back from a kiss, a string of fluids connects your lips, and if there was more time, he would fuck you on some of the wooden pews or better, on the altar. Alas, all he can do right now is to reach for your mouth to trace along the swollen and wet flesh of your lower lip. Not like his are better right now, he can still taste himself on the tip of his tongue.

“The god has freed you from your sins” he whispers, still panting heavily and his gaze is intently observing you with a deep, burning desire.

“Amen, Father” you respond.

[shitswiftiessay]

Swifties are PAINFULLY fucking stupid.

I shouldn’t be getting THIS heated over a Disney comparison but the Kristoff slander is absolutely fucking wild. Kristoff (at least in the first movie) is both poor and an introvert. Those are two things that swifties HATE Joe for. He also had to work since he was a child, which is something swifties make fun of Joe for- calling him yogurt boy. And he DEFINITELY would think that award shows are stupid.

Hans is much more like Travis in the fact that he pursued a woman for his own gain. Whereas Kristoff was just trying to live his life and didn’t even WANT to get involved in Anna’s shit, Hans wanted to become king, so he pursued Anna (a naive and desperate young woman- which is what swifties are trying to paint Taylor as) and made himself look like her dream guy- “true love.”

Last summer, Travis publicly and relentlessly pursued Taylor with his story about how he tried to give her a friendship bracelet with his number. And he’s been reaping the benefits of dating Taylor Swift, he’s got new TV gigs, his podcast shot up on the charts, and he might even be getting his own reality show.

He tried to pass himself off as a fan, Even though he’s blatantly obvious that he DOESN’T listen to her music. But his little pretend act of being a fan charmed the shit out of swifties and made them believe he was her Prince Charming. All he has to do is that stupid 🫶 thing and he’s got the swifties swooned, much like Hans had Anna swooned from the minute he met her. But his intentions were completely self-serving.

And another thing I find interesting is the fact that Hans proposed to Anna a few hours after meeting her. IF ANYTHING, that couple is literally a lesson on NOT marrying a guy you just met. And yet, Swifties have been talking about Taylor marrying Travis since that first football game-even BEFORE then.

But Joe, the guy who didn’t want to marry taylor, is just like Hans? The one who was in a long term relationship that ultimately didn’t work out is JUST LIKE HANS??

It beggars belief how swifties could be so stupid, because they either didn’t watch the movie, didn’t fully understand it (because they are less cognitively capable than 5 year olds), or they’re so addicted to painting Joe as this cartoonist Disney villain in their heads that they think it’s perfectly reasonable to compare Joe to a character that was trying to KILL his fiancée and her sister.

I the stupidity of comparing Taylor Swift to Anna- a girl who’s been isolated in a castle for most of her life and has ZERO relationship experience - I think she’s supposed to be like 18 or something? Very young and inexperienced and naive. Taylor was 26 years old when she started dating Joe and she had plenty of relationship experience before then.

Taylor literally wrote MASTERMIND, but swifties still see her as this naive and innocent disney princess who is easily manipulated and taken advantage of by men. So I guess they think it’s a reasonable comparison because they understand disney movies as well as they understand Taylor’s lyrics- which is NOT AT ALL.

[ilovecookies12]

Yandere Head Chef x Chubby reader

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Note:This is My first time posting one of my stories here in Tumblr so hope you like it, And if your under 18 Years old PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS, but if you are above then your free to read.

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Warning: Swearing and mention of NSFW

Chapter 1

“(Y/n)! Oi!” Shouted By a Man On his 40s, preparing the order a customer just ask for, his Face scowled in annoyance as he sees you cutting the vegetables into horizontals not Sideways Like he ask for, “Are You stupid or something? How the Fuck are you going to make a normal curry with this shit” He stated, taking your hands off Your work and continue to show you how to properly cut it, “like this, hope your small Ass brain Could Fit this Information” He scowled, Walking back To the order before setting it To The waiters window.

You were (Y/n) an 19 Year old Collage student who took the Course Of culinary, Hoping to be a chef one day, So you decided To take The job as an Kitchen Porter hoping to gain Some insights on how To handle a kitchen, Well you were Expected to do Task all around the kitchen by helping on miscellaneous things That Keeps The kitchen Running, You were not supposed to be helping a chef to prepare food especially the head chef, However he keeps insisting that you should help him, It was Weird how he ask for you specifically always, having 10 Different professional chefs in the Same kitchen but still he chooses you, Others Might find it weird but for you was Quite the opposite, You find it as a great opportunity to learn things even if his Words might hurt you sometimes.

A girl with bright curly hair approach you, a smirk hiding in her face, nudging your shoulder as she whispered “bet that old guy really want a taste of a girl like you”, you gaze upon her with disgust, “did something ate your Brain or your just having a fucking Aneurism, Girl that man just insulted my work and your saying he has a Thing for me” I whispered, taking the Broom next to her.

She was the sous chef aka your friend since you came here, you could simply describe her as a hardworking, kind hearted and a little bit crazy, She keep Shipping me with The Head chef, saying things like age is just a number or She approved on being the aunt for our wedding, Her name was Isabella De La Cruz, A Filipino OFW who became a resident after marrying the owner of this restaurant, talk about luck.

“like for real, the way he looks at you is different, I know that man for 5 years and it’s the first time I see him Be this Close and even choose someone to help him” she whispered, Leaning over you, who was currently sweeping the floor while she was helping a new Fry chef how to handle the deep fryer, you rolled Your eyes, “Just do your job” You muttered, Finishing your Task.

As the night Progress, Customers flood in, you never really notice how Andrew the head chef, Looks at you, his gaze roaming around your form as you help the others diligently never once complained how they treated you especially him,

You were different.

Just like the first time he laid his eyes upon you, a working student that he expected to be sensitive and always tired same with the others who resigned the job you were taking, he thought that your not going to last for a week but his mistake, You were still here for about a year now,

The way your curves fit perfectly with that white uniform, Your hair were frenzied in a ponytail, You were somewhat glowing in his gaze, he never experienced such things before especially the part were his heart skipped a beat whenever you stepped closer to him or when you accidentally touch his hands during your task, he likes the feeling of it.

That’s why sometimes he’ll find a way to somehow feel your skin Against him by asking for you to aid him during preparations.

He also liked seeing your expression whenever He speak degrading words at you, imagining how would you react as he fuck you behind, smacking that thick ass of yours while your juice soaked his dick inside.

A perfect wife for perfect man like him.

[a-super-cutie]

Persistence. Obsession. Persistently obsessed.

(Part 5 of 8) NSFW chapter, MDNI, 18+ series

cecil stedman x female!superhero!reader

wc: 1,805

series synopsis: You and Cecil have started seeing each other but your jobs (mostly his) keep interrupting date after date. He clearly thinks this won't work for you, but how many times do you have to tell him how utterly head over heels you are for him?? Well, if telling won't work, maybe showing him will.

Masterlist ~~~ Last Part ~~~ Next Part

Cecil's jaw clenched and he turned just enough to side-eye you with a glare that sent chills down your spine. “I know.” His eyes shut quickly before you could see the hurt in them. “I know you’re cheating on me.”

Your feet touched the floor with a heavy thump. He thought you were…? Horror washed over your face and you raced to face him, desperate to clear up the obvious misunderstanding.

Tears streamed down his cheeks and his lips curled in a snarl. How he continued to talk so evenly was beyond you. “I knew there would be heartbreak, there always is, but I never thought - Thought I’d go through this again.” His sob betrayed his facade. He turned away again and you almost thought he'd teleport instantly, but he didn't. He stayed. Despite the hurt that was eating at him with jagged teeth, he was giving you a chance.

He continued and you cursed yourself for freezing on him; “Though it’s better it happened now than ten years in the future, I suppose.”

Your tongue couldn't form words, your mouth too dry to to even allow air out.

His shoulders tensed and he began shaking in his attempt to hold back his emotions, a boiling pot and lid that could no longer contain the explosive energy brewing inside.

You shook your head, finally forcing your body into action despite the tears welling with guilt. You flew to face him once more and reached out for his hands but he pulled away like he’d gotten burned. Like you HURT him. Like your very touch could undo him once and for all if he wasn't careful.

“Cecil,” you sobbed with him. “I’m not cheating on you! I’m so SO sorry I EVER made you think that!” You looked around the lodge as if there was anything that could help you, an old habit from years of fighting and needing to spot new angles to win the battle. There was nothing and no one to help you. "I swear - "

“Just stop!” he screamed. “Don’t lie to me.” His voice sharpened, loosing the quiver it had with a decisive clear of his throat. He was all business again, an angry boss with shit to clean up and fires to put out. "I know."

Frustration bubbled in your throat and you almost sassed him; luckily little alarm bells rang in your head and stopped you cold. You took a deep breath. You had to be calm. This wasn't a battle, this was a misunderstanding. “You don’t because it’s not happening. Tell me why you think so and I’ll -“

“Think?" he snarled. "You think I make moves with no proof? No evidence?” The chuckle that came out of him then was dark and sinister, like he'd been expecting your denial - looking forward to it. “I SAW you hug Donald. I SAW him answer your call and HEARD you plan to meet up. AND THEN I SAW HIM PULL UP TO YOUR HOME. You had me wear HIS coat all the way fucking here!” He walked over to the yellow jacket on the floor and kicked it further away.

He breathed out and all of the malice coiling in his muscles dissipated at once. He wasn't seething, wasn't angry, he was... disappointed? And exhausted. His eyes down-cast as he looked at the winter coat now pressed against the sliding glass doors. “What’s worse... is I understand why. But I told you -“ his words were cut off by a sigh. He paused, collecting himself once more, “I told you to just send me a memo.”

Your heart was breaking in a million pieces as the man you loved shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to compose himself. The whole time… He went along with all this thinking you were… And he ‘understood why’?

“Cecil… I’m not cheating on you. All of what you said is true, but I can explain it all.”

“Yeah?” He sniffed. “Then go ahead. ‘Cause I’ve heard it before.” He faced away. His relaxed posture was rigid and forced. He looked out the window into the gaping cliff below where weeks earlier you’d thrown the elemental.

“I convinced him to help me get you here. I talked him into taking over for two days and asked him for his jacket because I didn’t want to ask you for yours. I didn’t want you to get suspicious.” You drew closer. “I like Donald, he’s nice, but I don’t like him the way I like you. You’re nice too… and hot.”

He chuckled immediately, like he always did when you complimented him like that. Tell him he's smart and knowledgeable and he acknowledges it easily, tell him he's anything more than a normal mid-tier man and he looks at you like you've grown two heads. It was an easy formula for making him blush.

His head slowly turned to look over his shoulder at you but he still had doubts swimming in his eyes. They were teary and desperate to find truth in yours.

“I like kissing you and talking to you and PINING over you. It’s my favorite hobby.” You held his gaze, “I am not seeing anyone else, not even slightly.”

He looked down at his socks, a tear escaping down his perfect cheekbone. “I guess… he really wasn’t there for long…” He sniffed. “And he’s an honorable guy.”

You snorted. “As am I. Trust, remember?” You closed the distance and he was forced to face you again, though he continued to look away.

A mix of guilt and embarrassment clouded around him like a storm. “I’m an asshole.”

You gave him a small giggle and pushed his chin up to meet your eyes. “You’re really not… but... I can tell you have a past.”

He scoffed and slid his hand through his hair. “It’s called baggage.”

You sighed and pulled him into you, your fingers combing down his silver strands, your nails occasionally scratching his bald spot, making him shiver. He held you close and began crying again, his head resting on your shoulder as his tears ran down your collarbone.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered and you shushed him. “I haven’t… done this in so long. I haven’t been with… It’s been so long, I just thought I could handle it.” He was crumbling before your very eyes. The strong-as-steel GDA director that barked out orders and rolled his eyes at insults was breaking down in your arms.

Smiling was probably not the correct response to seeing all his walls coming down, but it warmed your heart to know, despite being the partial cause to his sorrow, he trusted you enough to seek your safety out.

You picked him up like you had on the roof of your apartment and took him over to the large pillows in front of the unlit fire that you'd set up last night. He didn’t protest as you nestled him in. He let you slide his suit jacket off. He let you undo his belt and slip off his shoes. He cried silently as you slid his pants off and unbuttoned his shirt, discarding them all to the side.

Tears fell as he watched you, trusting himself to your gentle hands. He was desperate to let go, to allow himself to feel cared for, not because he was needed in peak condition to do his job, but because he was simply wanted.

Your hands glided over his stomach as you pulled his undershirt up and over his head. You pulled one of the blankets on the couch down and positioned it over you both as you took off your shirt and skirt and unclasped your bra, his sobs slowly dying as his attention stayed on you.

His sad eyes roamed over your figure as you lit the fireplace and turned back to him. You slowly crawled over his body and paused as you sat on him, legs to either side of his lap. His thin lips trembled but the tears had ceased. His hands slowly traveled up you thighs, up your hips, and rested on your waist. His thumbs trailed over the soft skin of the underside of your breasts.

Half-lidded eyes looked him over and a sweet smiled played on your face. “How could you think I’d want anyone but you, Cecil? You’re perfect.”

He shook his head. He didn’t believe you. He never did. No one liked Director Stedman, not the heroes he helped, not the world leaders he worked for, and not the staff he led. He wasn't the good guy, he was the guy who did what needed to be done.

“I’ll show you.” You dipped you head down to kiss the scarred skin of his cheek and trailed kisses down his face to his chin, skipping his waiting lips. You kissed down his neck and smiled when he gave you more room and a little, impulsive moan. Your tongue glided out of your mouth to trail from his collar up the side of his neck to his ear. You relished in his whimper.

His hands tried to pull you closer but you kept your position over him and started making your way down. You sucked and nibbled on his skin as you went and his hands moved to your shoulders as he squirmed, pushing you down further. Something hard throbbed between your breasts as you lick just below his navel and he groaned with anticipation.

Under the blanket you couldn’t see anything and you wished you had night vision or glowing eyes are ANYTHING useful. Was he enjoying this? Were you proving to him how badly you wanted him? As if in answer Cecil ground into you, his hips thrusting rhythmically as best they could as you made your way back up and out of the blanket. His cheeks were red and his lips swollen and abused from being bitten.

“You don’t have to hold back, Cecil. It makes me wet to hear how much you want me.”

“I want you bad,” his voice was quiet and strained. “I can’t say no to you. I-I won’t say no to you.” There was vulnerability in his eyes, a silent pleading; he needed you, and that scared him.

“I want you too.” He moaned and ground into your core, his hands griping your hips and pushing you down into him. “I only want you.” He whined under you, his cheeks turning pink as he writhed. You sat straddling him, putting just enough pressure on him to give him the friction you both craved. “You’re the only one for me. The only one I want making me feel this good,” you let yourself moan the last word.

“Fuck!” He began rutting into you as you laid down over him, moaning over him, mewling with every thrust of his hips. His member almost pressed exactly between your folds, almost where you needed him. There was only so much give to the fabrics that kept you apart. Regardless, you were his doll to play with as he pleased. “You’re soaking our underwear.”

You sighed with need as his hard member finally managed to rub between your folds the wetter you made the thin fabrics. “It’s what you do to me. Only you.” It's been too long since you felt this good. With no time to yourself and no time with your boyfriend your body was easy to please. One of his hands left your hip to squeeze your breast and pull on your nipple and the pleasure building in your core exploded in ecstasy. “Oh gods! C-Cecil!”

You rode the wave of your climax as his motions sped up, became erratic and lost their rhythm. He groaned loud from his own ecstasy, his hands squeezing your hip and nipple hard as something wet grew between your hips. You were now both wet and sticky from fluids that permeated the thin fabrics of your underwear.

“I need you in my life,” Cecil whispered between panted breaths.

“I need you in mine.” You pressed your cheek to his chest, both your bodies sweaty and hot from the workout.

His fingers traced gentle circles over your bare back. You didn’t want to move away and he didn’t make you. He held you close for as long as the air outside the blanket was cold. When you looked up at him his eyes were closed but he wasn’t asleep. His mind was elsewhere, and you let him take his time where he needed to be.

Every once in a while he held you closer and his breathing trembled, but you didn’t move from where he wanted you. You were here for him. He knew that now. When his breathing calmed he continued tracing circles and kissed the top of your head.

After the fire had been going for a while the blankets became too hot to stay under and you finally pulled away but kissed his lips before speaking quietly, afraid to break the comfortable silence. “There’s a pretty big bathtub in the room. Wanna share it?”

He looked up at you and nodded. “I’ll get it set up. Wait for me here?”

You agreed and he left the comfortable nest of pillows you’d made. After a few minutes he, now fully naked, came out to lean over the railing. “You wanna join me?”

You giggled and slid off your underwear, flying up to meet him. He held out his arms and you gently floated down into them so he could carry you the way you’d carried him. He took you to the tub and placed you in.

There were bubbles nearly to the top and it smelled like lavender with tall candles on either side making it all shimmer and shine. “Fancy,” you giggled, no less appreciative of his efforts.

He gave you a crooked grin and swiped his hand over his bald spot and down the back to smooth his hair. “Thanks. Is it the way you like it?”

“It’ll be perfect when you join me.”

And he did. You kissed intimately, but never took it further. As you sat between his legs he scrubbed your body gently while you shampooed his hair. He was quiet, but for once you could see genuine happiness in his expression. The small smile, his soft eyes, the way he looked over your body like he was memorizing and appreciating every part of you. His cheeks flushed when he finally looked into your eyes and you couldn’t keep from kissing him again, slow and with purpose, like breathing fresh air after a lifetime without.

______________________________________________________________

Masterlist ~~~ Last Part ~~~ Next Part

a/n: Hope you enjoyed part five and bonus art! :) next part will go up next week :)

[tin-wufborf]

Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics (Part 7)

Howdy! Welcome to part 7! I'm happy you're here! Thank you all again for showing this series the love and support you all have. I appreciate you all so much, and I hope you're all finding new favorites to add to your own collections.

Apologies for the delay in getting this part to you. To be honest, it's just been too fucking hot for me lately, so I've been spending less time at my computer and more time splayed out, letting the wind blow upon me. I'm a spicy bitch on an average day, but it's been 100+ degrees here on average for the past week and a half with the heat is showing no signs of going away anytime soon. So there may end up being bigger gaps between updates (like the one you just experienced) than I maintained previously. Fair warning.

Okay, that's all from me today. Let's get into, lovelies!

Smoochies and squeezies!

List and link to previous/next part(s) below the cut.

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DISCLAIMER: This is me warning you all that some of the fics I've included in this list may cover explicit, dark, and/or "taboo" subject matters. I cannot express enough how little I care what anyone thinks about any of that; all I want is for you to use caution when reading anything I've listed here and to please review and heed whatever tags the authors have provided in order to keep yourselves safe. Your experience from this point on is your own responsibility, not mine and not the authors'.

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20

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and the questions of heaven, for a sinner like me by doxa (G | 1/1 | 1,346)

“I'm Loki, son of Laufey,” Stiles chants. “And I'm going to burn down the world.”

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many beacons in the sea by orphan_account (T | 1/1 | 1,479)

Stiles has known all his life that he’s not like other kids. He’s special.

“It’s alright, love,” his mom says, leaning over him at night when he can’t sleep because his legs hurt so bad. “Just let it hurt.”

She kisses his forehead. He dreams of the sea. They go to the beach that weekend.

*

Stiles is a siren. He’s an anomaly, until he isn’t.

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Now when we're old by orphan_account (NR | 1/1 | 2,431)

Stiles' skin was soft, the years passing making it worn and thin; his bones brittle and fragile. He was still the man they all knew, but older. Derek's hair was grey and white now, his beard more straggle than stubble. His whole life could be read on his face, almost like a map, outlining his joys and tears.

We all know how their lives together began, but how did it end.

Believe it or not the ending is kinda happy.

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the secrets in our blood by orphan_account (T | 1/1 | 5,433)

//He’d never meant for it to go this far.

He really, honest to god hadn't. Like, okay, it's not like he'd expected a long life, but he'd at least hoped he'd have gotten the hell away from Beacon Hills before they found him.//

or, the one where Stiles is a demon and the same hunters who killed his mother (also a demon) find him.

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Wolf Cub by moodwriter (E | 1/1 | 6,946)

A strange wolf is not supposed to touch another pack’s cub and that’s why, on a rescue mission, it’s Stiles’ job to take care of the wolf cub who’s curious about everything and everyone. Stiles is not used to werewolf children, and the pack is not used to Stiles taking care of a child. Their Alpha gets very confused about this, too.

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The Dark Spark by Reia (E | 1/1 | 7,014)

He knows that Stiles is speaking to his wolf, to that animal inside that thrums with the need to maim and kill and take, take, take and he really shouldn't allow it, he shouldn't.

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but couldn't good be good enough by lazulisong (G | 1/1 | 8,044)

"His dad is probably going to tell Stiles not to hang out with us," says Boyd, taking a sip of his Coke.

Isaac gives Derek an utterly betrayed look, and Erica glares at him. "I told you not to wear those sunglasses!" she hisses.

"What if Stiles can't hang out with us any more?" says Isaac wretchedly. "What if Scott doesn't want to hang out with us because --"

"I said those were pedophile sunglasses!" says Erica, in a quiet, piercing whisper that makes Derek's ears hurt.

Boyd continues eating his gyro, which he has laid out on a plate like a salad on a piece of flatbread, methodically picking out the tomatoes, feta and lamb and laying them to the side to eat after the lettuce. Boyd would eat his gyro if there was a bomb going off.

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The House in the Middle by afullrevolution (2 works | G-T | 8,569)

1. Battle not with monsters (T | 3/3 | 7,590) Stiles laughed. Laughed because he understood what Nietzsche had been writing about. Because hunters were clearly monsters for all they claimed to battle them. Because Stiles had looked into the abyss and the abyss was staring straight back. 2. To Grandmother's House We Go (G | 1/1 | 979) There were always going to be repercussions for everyone involved, and then some.

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Hell to Raise by Mosca (E | 1/1 | 12,543)

Stiles is the last in a long line of pagan priests. Of course, the god in question is a sarcastic trickster who mostly just wants him to get laid. Of course.

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No Oceans Left by zoemathemata (T | 1/1 | 14,207)

Stiles has always been a merman. He just never knew how to tell anyone. He hasn’t shifted since his mom died.

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Hand of the Devil by shiny_starlight (M | 1/1 | 14,669)

For years, Hale and his family had escaped justice, but the day of reckoning had come. His comfortable life was about to come crashing down about his ears and Adrian was going to relish every single second of it.

Mob!AU. Derek is the head of the Hale Family, and Detective Adrian Harris is determined to bring him to justice, whatever means necessary.

Warning: Contains past!non-cannonical character death and non graphic description of injuries. Contains cannon character death.

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Do What I Dare series by FunkyinFishnet (3 works | T-M | 15,532)

Stiles has always known he prefers to wear women's clothing. He learns that the people who matter want him to be happy too.

1. Make No Conditions (M | 1/1 | 8,557) Stiles has always known that he prefers wearing female clothing, but not many people in his life know. He makes friends with drag queens, goes shopping with Lydia and Allison, and tries to work out if and when he can ever tell Derek about his wardrobe. Will Derek want all of him? Of course, it turns out that Lydia is right all along, about everything. 2. Get A Little Outta Line (M | 1/1 | 4,444) Stiles talks down a rival pack's Alpha, tells his Dad about werewolves, is confronted by Chris Argent, and communicates enjoyably without words with Derek. It's pretty awesome altogether. 3. Scent Of A Woman And A Man (T | 1/1 | 2,531) Stiles and his Mom love perfume. Stiles carries that love into his teenage years and once he and Derek become close, he finds he's not the only one obsessed with scents.

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Actual Puppy Derek Hale by Wrennefer (Wrenegadeone) (T | 1/1 | 18,162)

Derek didn't know what was worse: the hunters, being trapped as a wolf, being hit by a car, or the fact that he had somehow become some kid's pet dog for the unforeseeable future.

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Der Yingl fun Erd un Blitz (The Boy of Earth and Lightning) by sofonisba_found (T | 3/3 | 18,741)

Miriam and John Stilinski had always wanted to have children. But when her illness prevented her from giving birth, and every conventional alternative option to raise a child was denied to them, they had to look for an...unconventional method. One that would give them a child that was himself far from ordinary in so many ways.

And soon after, in the town of Beacon Hills, a young werewolf named Derek begins to notice the scent of something different from anything he had ever known before in the air...

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Certain and Unsure series by dedougal (2 works | M-E | 20,475)

1. Make It Up As We Go Along (E | 1/1 | 11,388) Stiles was not expecting to find a baby on the kitchen table at Derek's. Not at all. 2. Left to Trust (M | 1/1 | 9,087)

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With The Hush of My Lips, I Wholly Confound The Skeptic by Unknown (M | 6/6 | 27,249)

My contribution to the Teen Wolf Big!Big:

It’s honestly his dad’s worst nightmare.

And it’s not like the doctors never told them that it could be hereditary, what his mother died of. They had. It’s just, after such a tragic thing like her dying had happened, they hadn’t thought anything could ever be worse.

Until they had found that stupid abnormality in Stiles’ stomach.

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The Importance of Turning Around Three Times Before Lying Down by otter (T | 10/10 | 30,493)

It’s like this dog has walked out of all of Stiles’ childhood dreams and into the real world just because Stiles wanted it hard enough. He is the most awesome dog ever, and he and Stiles have a bond. A deep, unbreakable bond because this animal is his soul mate, obviously. Now he just has to convince the dog of that.

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Of Love and Fairness series by JTHM_Michi (4 works | G-T | 38,833)

Life isn't fair and sometimes when people mean well they react without knowing all the facts. Families are a deep cavern of secrets and lies and the Stilinski family isn't different than any other. When the Alpha Pack came to Beacon Hills, they brought death with them and in the fallout, Stiles was kicked out and his father got a new child and a new wife. This is a story about life and family and all the hard things from both. Alls fair in love and war?

1. We Meet Again (T | 1/1 | 16,320) When Stiles was 17, the Sheriff kicked him out because the Alpha Pack was getting to be too dangerous for the newest additions to the Stilinski household. Now, eleven years later, Stiles is about to come face to face with his once kid step-sister and be forced to deal with this fact. Is it possible to forgive and forget? 2. But With A Whimper (G | 1/1 | 6,704) Rebecca Stilinski learns to deal with the reveal that her father simply isn't the person she grew up thinking he was. And how is it possibly fair that Stiles can have this wonderful life and his father still condemns him as some sort of shady character from a crime drama? The sequel to 'We Meet Again'. 3. Magic Musings (G | 1/1 | 6,274) Lydia has made for herself a perfect life. She has a degree from MIT, has won a Fields Metal, has gotten married to Jackson, and has a career where people call her ‘Dr. Martin’ with complete sincerity. She has a large extended family of friends and is a godmother to her best friend’s daughter and has two little boys who call her ‘Auntie’. Her life is perfect – sure, she and Jackson go through rough patches and sometimes her bills stress her out – but overall she has a good life. She never thought her wonderful life would involve Stiles as her quasi brother with Scott as their goofy younger brother (never mind that Lydia is actually the youngest) but life is strange that way. 4. Look The Other Way (G | 5/5 | 9,535) The small snippets from my "Of Love and Fairness" verse, including but not limited to: The original confrontation between Stiles and his father over the Sheriff's abandonment of Stiles in the past; A small glimpse of Derek and Stiles' wedding; and a meeting between Lydia and the Sheriff. And really anything else from this verse that I wrote that didn't make it into any of the bigger pieces. It would be better to read the other parts of this verse before this one.

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Dirty paws and furry coats by queerly_it_is (E | 1/1 | 57,621)

Stiles is eight years old when his dad brings Derek home.

[AU based on Disney's The Fox and the Hound]

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Indelible Marks by billtheradish (M | 87/87 | 275,695)

The house never burned. The pack is strong. Derek will never need to be the alpha, and his sister is a troll. (Actually, most of his family is like that.)

Derek is an apprentice tattoo artist, and Stiles isn't old enough to get ink of his own yet. But that doesn't stop him from being interesting...

(This story is now out of buffer, but I will always announce when the next update will be, and am trying to keep to a regular posting schedule. Also, please be advised that this is essentially a rough draft. That doesn't mean it's riddled with typos, every chapter is edited, just that the overarching plot and side stories haven't had a chance to be edited in full yet--but they will be. An edited version of this story will be posted eventually, so if the current length isn't your cup of tea, just come back later.)

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[nana-ur]

Corruption: Intro.

Pairings: Yandere!Taehyung x Reader || Jimin x Reader

Genre: Yandere, Romance (?), Psychological, Angst, Smut

Disclaimer: I do not condone, nor support or encourage anything I write in this fanfiction. It is purely fiction, means of entertainment, and should be treated as such. I do not think any of the BTS members would act remotely anything like what is represented here, which is why it’s called fiction. Other than that, please enjoy, and read at your own discretion. 

Trigger warnings and Tags; +18, Yandere elements, Possessive and Obsessive behaviors, Toxic Relationships, Unhealthy idealization, Drug and Substance Abuse, Mommy/Daddy Issues, Slow Burn, Smut (in future chapters), Artist!Tae, Rich!Tae, Lowkey SugarDaddy!Tae, BDSM, Power Dynamics, Manipulation, Slight age difference, Naive!Reader, Easy to Manipulate!Reader, Virgin!Reader, Virginity Kink, Corruption kink.. (There’s gonna be a LOT of kinks in here for further chapters, so I’ll save the wall of text LOL.) 

Intro  Part. 1   Part. 2   Part. 3   Part. 4  Part. 5  

Boring, he thought.

Everything about this stupid fucking event was excruciatingly boring.

First off, he didn't even want to be here. His mother forced him to come, practically dragging him outside by his own ear. 

"If you still want me to sponsor your pathetic little project, it'd be smart of you to come along with me this evening." Ah yes, the typical threats of estranging him financially in hopes of him spending time with her. Typical Mrs. Kim. 

The outing was a simple event where selected students who had won his fathers Academic Scholarship were rewarded a ‘party’ for their hard work and efforts. The scholarship was offered to college students who managed to make the highest ranking grades throughout their entire university. Impressive, to say the least, which is why each student present was granted $45,000 USD straight towards their college funds.

That sort of funding was simply pocket change for a man like his father.

His father was the CEO of Kim’s Legal Law Firm. It happens to be the third largest law firm in the country. Taehyung’s father has a tender soft spot for college students, especially ones who attend the same school he graduated from. Which is why he did events like this yearly, specifically for them.

But Taehyung? He could give two shits about a "Scholarly Party". He wasn't in school, nor did he want to be tied down by the ropes of education ever again. High School was more than enough, and that was years ago. He barely graduated. Though, after having his parents ``talk" to the principal of his private school, he suddenly went from having a D grade point average, to being at the top of his class in under an hour. He remembers clearly how Kim Namjoon glared daggers in his skull when he walked up the stairs leading to the stage at their highschool graduation, accepting his honors award that rightfully belonged to him instead. Taehyung couldn't really blame him, either. He'd be pissed off too if someone's rich parents paid off a school to make their irresponsible child graduate, whilst stealing his honors award that would've surely benefited him if he tried to enroll in college. 

Taehyung wasn't stupid by all means, no. He was actually pretty fucking smart. It's just he hates doing work, and he hates being told what to do. So instead of attending classes, doing homework, and going to exam days; he skipped classes to smoke weed, do things he wasn't supposed to do, and fuck around. What was stopping him? Surely not his parents. They barely bat an eye when he stayed away from home for days on end when he was only 15 years old. He remembers walking in after being away for 5 days straight to his dad barely sparing him a glance, and his mother wrapping herself up in a scarf so she could go out for the night. She walked right past him, not saying a word. 

Easy to say that his parents had their priorities straightened out already, and Taehyung wasn't one of them. But he doesn't care. 

Or that's what he tries to tell himself when he has emotional outbursts, or when he gets arrested for DUIs, or when he gets questioned for being under the influence, and more outlandish things his parents had authorities shove under a rug. 

His parents had money and generational wealth. Taehyung could do anything, say anything, and be whatever he wanted. So who cares if his parents were a little emotionally unavailable? He didn't care. Nope. Not at all. Not one bit.

But sometimes, just, sometimes, he finds himself yearning for motherly love. He finds himself wishing he had a father to look up to, instead of the stone cold businessman his own father was.

He desperately wanted to be loved by someone.

And he hated that feeling. It made him feel weak.

The feeling that gnawed at the emptiness inside of his own chest. The empty void that hurts and caves into himself whenever he sees someone receive the unconditional love he could only wish for. 

Oh, how he wanted someone to love.

To hold, to cherish, to smother with affection, to be loyal to and never let go. 

Never let go. 

Taehyung has had his fair share of relationships, of course. He was pretty, tantalizing, rich, and he likes to think of himself as quite the charmer. 

Those relationships weren’t too serious or noteworthy, honestly. Most of the women he dated were trophy girlfriends his friends set him up with. Most just dated him for status, sex, and money. Surprisingly, he had no problem with this. 

It's just how the world works, isn't it?

No matter how pretty or sweet, though, he's never fallen in love with any of those women.

He's never been in love at all.

He’s felt the intense feelings of infatuation and lust, but none of those feelings lasted for more than 2 weeks. He often finds himself getting bored of the same repetitive types of women that came into his life. 

There were two categories of women that Kim Taehyung seems to attract. 

One being the typical spoiled woman with daddy’s black card. This type didn’t need him at all for financial reasons, they were set for life, and possibly even the afterlife. They always had a certain aura to them, that look in their eyes, that pep in the way they walk. All of which seems to remind him of his own mother. Yeah, he knows it’s weird. It’s weird to date women that remind you of your mother, but Taehyung was the farthest thing from normal. 

What did Sigmund Freud say? Taehyung would think about the little bit of psychology knowledge he gained when he used to half pay attention in class often. Something about how mommy issues can lead down an unhealthy path of romantic relationships if not addressed in therapy, and so on. He thought it was quite interesting how he felt called out at that moment, which is why psychology became one of his favorite subjects while he was still in school. He may have skipped a lot, but when he was there, he tried to pay attention to the lectures.

The second category of women who Taehyung attracts were models. Not the runway, nepo baby models everyone sees on social media. No, not those. 

The models who were oh so pretty, but also had that vacant lost look in their eyes. They were signed to agencies who barely let them on the runway. Not because of their looks, but because of their raging reliance on drugs and substances. The walking stereotype of a ‘The Weeknd’ song is how he would describe these women. 

These women were with him for a completely different reason than the others. 

Taehyung was a bit guilty when it came to having a “hero complex”. He isn’t a saint by any means; he’s done his fair share of substances. He was peer pressured to do a lot of things when he was younger. 

Though, whenever he gets with these women, his goal is to “fix” them by giving them endless attention, affection, and care. He was always there when they went through withdrawals, when they were puking into plastic bags because they failed to eat prior to drowning themselves in narcotics and powder. He would rub their backs, help them take a cold shower, fix them soup, and hold them until they fell asleep. 

Taehyung had a soft spot for these women. Because he understands.

He understood the pain. The desperation to feel nothing. 

To fill that empty void with something. Something. 

These women were crying for help, so why not help them?

It filled him with a sense of importance after helping these women get clean. It was like he was healing his inner child in a sick, twisted way. Though, like most things, those relationships came to an end.

Although it was never really his fault these relationships would end. 

He was too “demanding”, “controlling”, “possessive”, he’s been told by most, if not all, of the women he’s been involved with.

They never truly accepted him for who he was. They were the foolish ones, not him. 

If they just understood him, if they would just understand.

Which is why he’s never fallen in love before. 

That was the ‘love’ life of Kim Taehyung. It was sad and depressing, but it’s something he had to get used to. It was all he was ever exposed to growing up. It was all he knew.

Maybe one day, things would be different. Happen differently.

Perhaps, authentically, unlike his past.

Perhaps he could fall in love.

He dreamed about such things. It would keep him up at night with a beating heart.

He was a disgusting hopeless romantic. 

“Are you paying attention?” Taehyung quickly blinked out of his short-lived daze and cocked his head down towards the voice. It was his mother, looking at him with those judgemental eyes he once used to hide from. Now, it doesn’t scare him anymore. 

But it made him feel significantly small nonetheless. 

God, he hated being here. It was so tacky.

Everyone was instructed to wear white. Though Taehyung, obviously, chose to be a little shit to piss off his mom and wore a black turtleneck, with a black blazer and even blacker slacks. His black hair was styled to where his fringe was covering most of his forehead, and slightly his eyes which were a light gray today, due to his contacts. Black on black.

He nodded his head towards his mother, ushering her to continue on with what she was saying even though he dissociated for most of it. 

Something he learned how to do at a very young age with ease.

“As I was saying,” she snapped, “your father wants you to greet some of the students. It would be beneficial for you to ask questions about college life, possibly even make some new friends tonight," Taehyung groaned internally, rolling his eyes in a way that his mother wouldn’t catch on. Here comes the “you need to go to school and study” talk. He would always shut it down. He’s 27 years old, too old to even be considered a senior at this point. 

To please his mother and to make her stop talking, he walked away from the railing he was leaning on and looked down into his wine glass, swirling it around to watch the red liquid create ripples. 

Looking up, he immediately spots his father speaking to what he presumes to be a student. The student was dressed in a plain, silky short back-out white gown with spaghetti straps. 

With her rear side facing his direction, it was hard to make out what the conversation was about. Maybe his father was being the creep he always was when it came to hanging around girls decades younger than him.

He can usually tell by the look in his fathers eyes, which seemed innocent to others, but Taehyung knew better than that. He knew his father well, even if he had no desire to. 

But all he could think about was how enticing she looked, even from behind where her face was hidden. The curve of her torso allowed the silky dress to hug her body perfectly, creating a silhouette that would give any Greek sculpture a run for its money. Dragging his eyes up and down her figure, he finds himself absentmindedly outlining the perimeter of her body with his irises, imprinting it into his own memory. 

Taehyung had an excellent photographic memory. 

It was strange, really. He was never someone to be enticed by “energy”, and he was never one to approach women. Not that he didn’t want to, it’s just that he didn’t have to. Any woman he was interested in came to him first without fail. But something was pulling him forward, beckoning him to approach the mysterious girl.

Which is exactly what he did.

His steps were calculated, precise. Making good first impressions was a piece of cake for Kim Taehyung, something he was often praised for from time to time. Which is probably the reason why his parents forced him to come to this tedious event. They used him as the token golden boy, utilizing his charms and making him talk to perverted, older guests that came to their events, hoping that he’d win their favor in exchange that his father gets to strengthen his connections. They started doing this when he turned 18, making use of his good looks and people skills.

Earning his parents' respect as their son isn’t easy. Especially a son who belonged to the Kim family. He had to attend the same university as his father, and to not make a mockery out of the family name. In which, he failed to do both. Saying he has their respect now is a stretch, but they found him to be useful when it came to winning over disgusting old CEOs and Chaebols. 

His brother, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. He graduated from university with high honors, even went ahead and attended graduate school as well, then he went to law school. He completed all of this by the time he turned 30. 

Taehyung appreciates that his brother took up all the responsibility, and the burden of expectations off of his shoulders.

However,

Deep inside, real deep inside, he could only dream of being the center of his parents' life the way Seokjin was. They loved him. Doted on him. Spoiled him. Gave him all the extra love and affection that should’ve gone to Taehyung instead. 

As a teenager, he was resentful towards his brother for the obvious showcase of favoritism his parents did. They didn’t even try to hide it. They would compare the two any chance they got; rubbing in the accomplishments of his elder brother in his face, reminding him that he will amount to nothing in life. 

Nothing but a burnt out artist, is what his father says. 

But whatever, Taehyung didn’t care. Not one bit.

“Hello, son,” His father greeted him once he noticed Taehyung's formidable figure saunter over, the tone of his voice evidently curt and strict in contrast to the lighthearted conversation he was having with the young lady. 

Ah, great. It was just as he guessed. His father was being a creep, and was actively flirting with this poor girl. Good thing Taehyung was here to save her from his fathers inappropriate stares and invasive questions.

Sparing his father a tight lipped smile, he walks past the young lady to align himself right next to his father, finally.

Finally, he could see her face.

And wow.

Everything around him became blurred, every sound that tried to meet his ears became all jumbled together, like indecipherable radio signals.

All he could focus on was you.

You.

You.

With his unexpected appearance, you instinctively looked up at him, his gray eyes meeting your own. He tilted his head to the side and gave you a cheeky grin, in which you reciprocated with your own, skittish smile.

That smile. 

He’ll never forget a smile like that, that’s for sure. 

The apples of your cheeks were rosy with dew and the afterglow of being in such a warm venue. Taehyung thought the sight of it was absolutely breathtaking. 

His gray eyes stayed on yours, unwavering. He intensely scanned your face, jotting down each little detail into his mind. 

Noticing the fervor of his gaze, you tore your eyes away from the fervent unwarranted stare-off and looked down at your feet, your face flushing with heat.

Aw.

He wanted to look into your eyes for a little bit longer. 

But that’s okay, he’ll get your attention one way or another.

After all, he just couldn’t help himself. 

Your face was just his type.

Would it be a stretch for him to say everything about the way you look was just his type? Perhaps, but Taehyung was known for moving extremely fast.

In more ways than one. 

“I’d like for you to meet Ms.____,” his father uttered out your first name. It sounded like a symphony to Taehyung's ears. A pretty face and a pretty name, huh.

How unfair. 

Your name began to replay like a broken record inside of his head. Sounding out each syllable internally, his tongue dragged across the side of his cheek before testing the name out loud in a hushed whisper.

The way your name began to reiterate persistently in his head – It would drive any sane person crazy.

Good thing Taehyung was the latter. 

“Well, Ms.___,” Taehyung scooped up your hand into his own, hoping the abrupt swift action will bless him with your soft gaze once again.

And it did.

With wide eyes, your neck nearly snapped as you rose your head from its previous position of looking down. You stared at him with big doe eyes, confusion swirling in your irises. 

That expression on your face was dangerous.

Especially for a man like him.

He brought your delicate hand up towards his red tinted lips, all while maintaining eye contact. He could feel you trembling in the palm of his hand.

What were you doing to him?

He felt slightly bewitched by you. He’s met his fair share of gorgeous women. Hell, he’s even met some of the world's most infamous models. 

But none of them compared to you. 

None of them had this effect on him. 

None of them took his breath away like this.

None of them at all.

He placed a soft kiss onto the back of your hand, a mellow smile spreading across his face when his lips met your soft, warm skin. 

“It’s a pleasure, pretty girl,” He whispered loud enough for you to hear, his breath fanning onto the skin of your hand. 

He slowly backed away, not letting your hand go just yet, leading it downwards but still holding it firm in his grip. He had to savor your reaction before he retracts completely.

He could tell you were wary with the sudden public display of affection, especially right in front of his own father. But truly, Taehyung didn’t give a fuck. He was someone who didn’t care if anyone was watching, especially his own father. Social anxiety or upholding social status wasn’t something for him to worry about.

And you’ll come to find that out very soon. 

Sooner than you think. 

Your eyes glossy, blown out, and your mouth was slightly gaped open from shock; it sent a concealed chill down his spine. Was a pretty girl like you not used to such things? The thought alone baffled him. 

Impossible, he thought. 

“U-uh–,” you stammered out incohesive words, your eyes darting between him and his father, worry, confusion, and conflicting attraction clear in your eyes. It was cute, how worried you got over something as small as a hand kiss. 

“Nice… to meet you too? Mister…” you were dodging every attempt at eye contact Taehyung was throwing your way, but he wasn’t having it. Wherever you looked, his head would follow with a tilt and a smirk, teasing you in a playful way you weren’t used to. 

“Taehyung, but for you? My name can be whatever your heart desires.” 

He’s used that cringy pick-up line many times. Most of the time it was just to please the other person, give them something they want to hear. Usually never what he wanted.

But he meant it when he said it to you. 

That same, irresistible nervous smile crept back onto your face at his words. Your neck once again flushing hot. This time, though, your eyes were focused on how his hand was still grasping yours. 

Taehyung took this as an opportunity to grab another reaction out of you, he began rubbing soft circles on the back of your hand with his thumb.

At this, you jumped softly, clearly not used to someone touching you like this.

Or touching you at all.

And for some reason, that thought alone excited him like nothing else. 

Suddenly, Taehyung felt his fathers hand creep onto his shoulder.

Unexpectedly this annoyed him.

More than it usually does. 

“It seems like you are already acquainting yourself with Miss.___,” his father spoke in a way that seemed placate to others, but Taehyung knew better. He was being a passive aggressive shithead. 

“Oh you know, just doing what you wanted me to, Father,” Taehyung quickly retorted back, a tight smile forming on his lips. 

His father had the nerve to get pissy as if he didn’t force him to attend this mundane event in the first place? Yeah, sure, Taehyung was grabbing the attention of the girl his father was openly flirting with, but didn’t he see how uncomfortable you were? 

He could tell how tense the mood was when he got closer to the two of you earlier. The way you were holding your left arm with your right hand, folding into yourself as his father got closer and closer to your personal bubble. 

You clearly weren’t interested.

At Taehyung’s smart aleck comment, his father shot him a look that only he caught, and walked away slowly after retracting his hand from his shoulder. 

It was better to not make a scene where people were watching. His father was extremely anal on how he was perceived; he wanted others to see him in a specific type of light. He was probably on his way to bother some other college student, anyway. Either way, Taehyung was glad he left.

Finally, old fuck. 

It’s about damn time he developed erectile dysfunction or something, how old is he again?

Regrouping himself, he finally let it sink in that you two were finally alone. 

Finally,

“Oh god, did I,” you stammered, “did I just make it really awkward? Oh my god.”

How peculiar. It was obvious that his father was the one who ruined the mood to begin with, but you resorted to blaming yourself instead. 

How peculiar. 

“Sorry I’m just not, you know… used to this,” you gestured your free hand around the venue you two were currently in the middle of. Everything was glistening with marble, glitter, blinding shades of white, and overly priced furniture. To anyone not used to such a lifestyle, it would of course be overwhelming. 

But to Taehyung, it just seemed tacky. 

Tacky and distasteful. 

If it were up to him, the whole idea of everything being white would be thrown out the window.

What’s up with rich people and their odd obsession with things white and marbley?

“Not used to try-hard rich people and their shitty interior designing?” Taehyung quipped, a smirk present on his lips as he raised his wine glass for a sip.

“What?! No! No. I, well… no!” the screws in your head were visibly malfunctioning, fighting with each other, trying to decide whether or not you should directly insult the interior of the venue right in front of him. Given the fact that he was the son of the man who invited you to such an event, and granted you a scholarship.

And possibly the son of the man who came up with the interior design of everything you’re looking at.

A chuckle rumbled in Taehyung's chest as he watched your internal and outward struggle. He could tell by the quick glint in your eyes that you agreed with him, but were too afraid to say something that would cause conflict. Tilting his head to the side, he raised his wine glass once again to his lips, taking a swig of it while he looked you up and down over the rim.

To his surprise, you still haven’t retracted your hand from his.

Lowering his drink, his tongue pressed to the side of his cheek once again out of habit. 

You still weren’t looking at him. 

“You know, it’s rude to refuse eye contact, pretty girl,” he said matter-of- factly in a teasing tone, fauxing disappointment.

“Oh,” you breathed out, clearly flustered at the recurring pet name and with the fact that he just called out your inability to maintain eye contact. 

With hesitancy, you looked up at him, your eyes shifting left and right a few times before settling on his intense gray orbs. 

It seemed to have surprised you that he was staring at you intensely this whole time because the moment your eyes connected with his, your body shifted. To his disappointment, you slowly retracted your hand from his, putting it back to your side. 

With his now free hand, Taehyung lifted it towards your face. And like any normal person, you flinched and moved backwards a bit. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

Cute.

But, he couldn’t hold himself back.

He had to do something. 

He tested the waters first, nudging his fingers against your jaw, caressing the outline of the bone before cupping your right cheek. His hand gently melts onto your warm, soft skin. He looks at you intently, deep in thought.

You were so beautiful.

Dangerously so. Taehyung wasn’t the type to be bewitched like this. 

His fingers caressed your warm face, your wide eyes trembling at him with uncertainty, confusion. He dragged his thumb from your cheek down to the supple lumps of your lips. He began gliding the digit left and right on your bottom lip before slowly pulling down on the muscle, revealing just a peak of your bottom teeth and the soft wet flesh on the inside, your gums a pretty pink. 

Even with all of this going on, he still maintained eye contact with you. His gaze never wavering. 

And his mind began to wander. 

It began to wander to menacing thoughts. 

Taehyung was known for having… an acquired taste, when it came to certain things. He’s been told so by many women in his life. It’s not like he wanted to like those things, it just happened by default. Things that excite him, that shouldn’t excite him. Things that he likes to do to others, to the people he’s interested in. Things such as bending and twisting them at his will, pulling a leg here, doing a thing there, just to pull a reaction out of them. He knew such things were red flags, concerning even. But if it was between two consenting adults, what was the problem?

Which is why he began to envision this woman he just met a few minutes ago sucking on his thumb. He imagined the look you would have in your eyes; innocent, glossy, excited, scared, unsure. He imagined the soft, spongy texture of your tongue, slick on his finger, how you’d open up for him like a good girl. And those eyes. They were dangerous, Taehyung decided. Looking at them for too long already had him spiraling with these thoughts.

You knew what you were doing, didn’t you?

Like a twig, he snapped out of his daze. His eyes finally focusing on you quickly taking a step back, wiping away the inkling of spit that dripped out of your mouth as a result of your bottom lip being pried open. With a red face, you looked at him, completely disoriented and confused.

Taehyung didn’t even notice the wetness on his thumb, or the spittle that trickled down the digit onto his knuckle.

Ah, oops.

“W-what was that-,” you stuttered out, your hand clasping against your mouth in shock, eyes frantically looking around, relief sagging on your shoulders when you noticed no one was looking. But there was a cloud hanging over your head, weighing down on you. 

A cloud you didn’t quite understand.

Just yet.

“Become my muse.”

“What-,” You blinked at him, completely caught off guard.

“Let me paint you. Be my muse.” He cut you off before you could question him any further. 

Taehyung had already made up his mind the moment he set eyes on you. Even when your back was facing him; he already knew what he wanted.

And Taehyung was a man known for getting exactly what he wanted. 

[kyoshithewriter]

Millennium

Part 3: Wild Cherries and Pomegranates.

Warnings: mature themes (mentions of murder, smut 18+)

A/n: I don’t want to overuse this picture but it matches the vibe of the story so much lol. Test run continues maybe until chapter 5 depending on the traffic it creates. Enjoy?

“What the hell are you talking about?” Her angry voice cuts through the deafening silence that descended after his absurd words.

“I’m not sure…” he drawls the word "sure” in such a way that it makes her realize that he has a British accent. A very prominent British accent. She thinks a small part of her brain has always noticed but she just didn’t have the mental capacity to actually process and realize until that very moment. Strange.

“You look exactly like her. Same umber brown skin, very similar eyes. But your personalities are very different, I'm now learning.” It’s his turn to eye her curiously.

“Is she- was she like you?”

“No, or not that I knew of. That’s what made me curious. So I’ve been… monitoring you for months.” He turns his attention back to the tv. He must really like horse racing.

“You mean stalking me?” She shoots back at him.

“Uh, yes, I suppose. I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was in either of our best interests if I had approached you but I couldn’t shake the feeling of needing to protect you, you look so much like Japheth. Walking late at night is dangerous even in a town like this.”

Aleena’s breath stutters as the memory of how he protected her flashed through her mind. She still doesn’t even know…

“It was you then? Did you… did you kill them?” She questioned nervously.

“Yes.”

Aleena is nonplussed by the nonchalance in his tone. In fact, the man hasn’t shifted his eyes away from the screen as his body locks tight in anticipation as the horses near the finish line. Does he know these races are recaps?

“Are you… okay mentally?” She can’t help the way she subconsciously starts angling her body away from him.

“Perhaps not. There was a period of five years in the 1800s that I have no recollection of and I believe I may have lost my sanity for a bit.” He scratches at his stubble with a deep frown on his face. She’s not sure if that was an attempt at a joke but he doesn’t smile even a little bit.

“But it has nothing to do with killing. It stopped weighing on me mentally after the tenth necessary one I think.” He says coolly. He looks in her direction again to find her curling away from him with terror in her eyes.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me Aleena, I won’t hurt you. You don’t deserve it. You couldn’t outrun me anyway.”

Chills race up her spine. Not a very comforting thought, Jude.

“So you do have supernatural abilities and I’m not losing my sanity?”

“Yes I do. I’m a lot faster and stronger than the average person. Cell turnover and regeneration is almost constant in my body and even ones that aren’t supposed to, still do. So I heal faster, age slower- or paused completely, in fact. I haven’t changed since I turned 21 and it will stay that way until I’m a thousand years old. I can even regenerate limbs- I got bored 200 years ago.” He answers the obvious “how do you even know that?” in her bewildered expression nonchalantly.

She clears her throat, fidgeting on the couch wondering if she should ask the question burning at the tip of her tongue. Fuck it.

“You said those first kills were necessary, does that mean you n-needed to- needed blood?” she stutters out. She cuddles into her thick sweater decorated with smiling pumpkins, dreading his response. He said the stories of vampires are closest to describing what he really is and she’s hoping that part of their lore doesn’t apply to him.

He watches her keenly.

“Blood helps with speeding up the process of a lot of what my body can do. Like, the other night, I immediately started healing when you took the bullets out because I had…” he trails off letting her put two and two together. She does it quickly. He not only killed Gary and Albert but he… she wants to gag.

“But it’s not a necessity I think. Or maybe I haven’t gone long enough without it to know. But I have gone years without and my wounds just take longer to heal. For the first year or so it took a day or two, after that it would take longer. The last couple of months before I had blood again I had a broken arm for two weeks. When I… indulged again it immediately healed.”

“So you hunt people down and drain them dry because you don’t want to wear a cast for a few months like everyone else?!” She yells in disbelief.

“Hunt?” He throws his head back to release a bitter cackle. When he looks back at her she gasps at the nothingness in his darkened irises. Her body pumps her full of fight or flight hormones. This is it, this is the version of him that slinks away in the shadows and snatches up two grown men as if they’re nothing but sacks of wool. This is the version of him that might have ripped them apart with his bare hands and sunk his teeth into their flesh.

“I’m not the hunter, Aleena. I am the hunted.”

***************

“What? Who could possibly be hunting you?” It doesn’t make sense. He’s faster than her eyes can keep up with, all she felt that night was a strong gust of wind before the men disappeared. He snatched up two men well over 200 pounds so it’s an understatement to call him strong; on top of all that, his senses are heightened. He’s the apex of apex predators for sure unless….

“Please don’t tell me other supernatural beings exist that are more,.. badass than you…”

Jude chuckles, amusement dancing in his eyes that now gradually lighten back to their softer brown.

“Badass, funny.”

She almost chuckles at how awkward it sounds coming from his mouth. Almost. She’s too on edge to care.

“Another thing I find funny, is people, no matter how many times they witness the kinds of horror they’re capable of, never assume humans are the meanest monsters in the closet. Slavery, the holocaüst, countless wars and famine all for greed and power yet…” he leaves the statement hanging and she sits awkwardly. It takes her a few seconds to realize he’s trying to regulate his emotions. It’s very subtle, but it’s clear he’s livid.

“Those bullets, I’m not sure how much experience you have with firearms and all that come with them; but those bullets, they’re not ordinary. They were made specifically for people like me. It’s why my body is unable to dislodge them on its own like it does with regular ones and I can’t heal with them inside. They weaken me too and…” he pauses, then suddenly turns his eyes to the tv again.

“I shouldn’t say anything else. They’ve tracked me everywhere but here. I left this state after killing those men the other night and they ambushed me in New York. I wouldn't want them to rope you into this mess because you know too much. I’m leaving in a few days but thought I at least owed you some peace of mind after what you witnessed.”

“What do you mean you’re leaving? Like out of the state?”

“No, the country.”

She’s not sure why her heart drops but it does. Maybe it has to do with knowing she’ll be left with many unanswered questions? Aleena wants to scream. She has always been a curious little thing. Her mom used to tell her how she had her “why?” stage from ages 2-10. She wants an answer for everything. What humans are hunting him? Why? How did they develop those weapons to ambush, track and harm him? Tell me! tell me! tell me! She wants to scream it at his face.

“My mom’s middle name is Japheth, you know?” Is what she calmly whispers instead.

Jude is in the middle of removing his trench coat but pauses to cock his head curiously.

“Do you perhaps have a picture of her?” He removes the coat and sighs in relief. She set the heating high enough to keep her exposed legs warm so she knows the temperature inside is not ideal for his thick, black coat. She’s not sure if it is for the long sleeve black satin button down he sports underneath either but he sure does look really good in it. Really good. The first two buttons are undone to show his necklace with an obsidian black pendant. It sits delicately on his smooth sternum. She wonders briefly if his borderline otherworldly appearance also has to do with… whatever it is he has.

“Uh, yea.”

Aleena reaches for her phone to locate a picture of her and her mom at graduation. She watches him study the picture, eyes narrowed in concentration.

“You look a little like her, but she’s not Japheth. Quite the coincidence though.” He says with a deeply contemplative look.

Aleena watches the way he gathers his coat in his hands and her heart leaps. He can’t leave.

“Does the sun affect you too? And how did you become… this?” She fires the questions at him in quick succession. Jude pauses to look at her then settles back onto the couch. She breathes a silent sigh of relief.

“Well, it’s just my eyes that are sensitive to the sun. If I have to go out during the day time I’ll need to wear sunglasses but that’s it. As for how I gained this ability, I can’t tell you. Myself, Christian, another like me, and Japeth while she was alive, had tried to make connections and we’ve come up with nothing yet. We only know about the millennium part because we met another who was like us until his years ran out and he started aging again. He taught us everything we know.” He explains calmly.

“So like, how did you find out that Christian and that guy were also like you? Like, did you just coincidentally become friends?”

“We can tell when others are like us, there’s this I don’t know how to really explain it but a buzzing under your skin when we see each other. Like a sixth sense. Strangely…” he trails off, looking at her dubiously; as if he’s not sure he wants to say whatever it is.

“Strangely, I- I felt something similar when I saw you. Not the exact same sensation but something. I’m not only leaving to get away from… them.” He mutters bitterly, “but I need to see Christian. I want to know if he may have some answers… about you.”

Aleena sucks in a harsh breath. What does that mean for her? She’s sure if she had been living for centuries she’d remember. He’s suddenly up on his feet and her heart drops.

“I have to get going. I need to get to Lithuania before sunrise.” He says with a furrow between his brows.

Aleena leaps to her feet, eyes wide as saucers.

“You- you can’t leave! What if… what if the police come here? You said it! I was the last person who saw them alive. And you might have an apathetic view of murder but I don’t! I’m freaking out! And what if those people, whoever they are, somehow manage to trace you back to me! You can’t…” she’s frantic, she knows. But he can’t just…

“I took care of the evidence. There are no cameras anywhere in that vicinity. There are hardly any cameras anywhere in this town actually, that’s why it’s been so easy for me here. But if something happens, just call me.”

“Should I like… whisper your name outside or?”

Jude’s expression goes from relaxed to tense in a matter of moments. Aleena recognizes that tension; that’s the look of someone trying to keep their laughter at bay. He looks down at her with so much amusement on his face that it makes her want to laugh.

“I’m afraid I can’t quite hear across continents yet, Aleena. But if you had let me finish…” he fishes into the pockets of the coat thrown over his left arm and pulls out a phone. Oh. Aleena’s face heats and she facepalms with a long groan.

“I’m sorry! I don’t know why I assumed…”

“It’s quite alright.” He mutters with a chuckle. “I don’t use it often to be fair, only for emergencies and I change them regularly. So please be careful what you say if you contact me. Everything is easily traceable in this era. Don’t even say my name if you don’t have to.”

She swallows but nods her head to show she understands. It must be exhausting living like that. Her heart aches for him.

Jude pockets the device and takes his time to scan every inch of her with his eyes. She keeps forgetting that she’s also somewhat of an enigma to him as well. She fidgets under his gaze as her skin burns under his scrutiny. There’s too much going on for her to be thinking the things that she is but when he looks the way he does and carries himself the way he does… she’s only a woman, sue her.

“It was lovely meeting you, Aleena.” His voice lowers in pitch. His baritone is richer than it was moments before. He stretches a hand in her direction.

“The pleasure was all mine, Jude.” She whispers with too much breath as she accepts his offered hand. Her skin tightens when their hands meet. His palm is a bit rougher than she expected but it’s so attractive to her for some reason. Goosebumps litter every inch of her skin. She hasn’t been this attracted to anyone in a long time. Hell, anyone ever. She’s not sure what that says about her morality but fuck morals when he looks like this. Jude looks away from her with a harsh clench to his jaw before dropping her hand and taking a step back.

“Call me if you need anything. Anything at all.” It sounds more like a demand than an offer. She doesn’t get the chance to say anything else because she blinks then he’s gone. Leaving behind only his lingering scent of some kind of musky wild cherry and the warmth of his touch still burning her palm.

“Get it together, Aleena.” She whispers to herself before flopping down on the couch again. She already misses the conversation. She has a lot more questions she wants to ask. Sure you only miss the conversation, Aleena. She ignores her thoughts as she reaches for his still, almost full glass of pomegranate juice.

“Quite fitting that you offered me pomegranate juice.”

She reaches for her phone to pull up a search engine.

“Pomegranates can be symbolic of immortality or life everlasting in some religions and cultures…”

Cheeky bastard.

It’s later that night while tidying her kitchen that Aleena notices that almost every single product she owns is pomegranate flavored.

[vera-yaps]

Something that makes ZD so realistic

Is how fuckin CRINGY they are,

like i’ve talked with my moots about this but i’m sleep deprived, off my antidepressants, and need to go to my 9-5 job at the laundromat in like less than an hr so let me have my slivers of serotonin

But like it came from me rewatching zd and realizing how much…secondhand embarrassment i got from some of cal’s tapes

like dont gmw. theyre chilling as all hell. i dont think i’m feeling anything not supposed to be feeling here. but like…They really are just edgy teenagers, like “just sticks in the mud🤓☝️” thats some shit an edgy 17 year old would say to make himself look big and bad when he really justheard that on the last action movie he heard. like stfu nerd and go do ur algebra homework, its due tomorrow

Forget the final scene for a second here. Forget the fact that they were planning to do something horrible.

Cal was probably so embarrassed that he was 17 and still needing to get braces off

he probably for years begged his mom and orthodontist to get them off early, the reality was they aere just too crooked for them to do anything yet, much to cal’s dismay

of course, as may 1st approached he gave less and less of a fuck. i mean, his teeth were gonna be blown through his cranium. what does it matter if they had wires on them or not.

andre probably hated his voice cracks. theyre not terribly noticable bc hes pretty grown into himself at 17/18, but he still has that happen on top of that damn acne problem. chris dealt with acne all through middle and high school. he joked college seemed to have cleared his skin magically. must be genetic, andre thought.

they tease each other, as teenage boys (also heavily repressed) often do. when theyre not fantasizing about putting buckshots in their peers, they play mortal kombat and curse at each other for beating him, cal is surprisingly alot more quick at his movements, whilst andre thinks his button mash combos through more. of course MK doesnt seem to care much about that.

Cal’s gotten a few confessions here and there. he wasn’t bad looking. he knew that. andre’s felt some girls looking at him before, but he was alot less approachable than cal. the closest thing he got to an outright confession was a letter in the 1995-96 school year, Melanie something - or - other

cal teases him about it at the bonfire, andre eventually is able to seize the note and to not say her name

he’s able to respect the privacy of strangers, but he wants to put ends to human life.

Andre wants to respect two guys doing interpretive poetry when Cal was rudely interrupting them and insulting them but didnt hesitate in the slightest to put bullets into his peers.

Bullets do a fuckton of damage. like what you see in ZD is disturbing but (thankfully) coccio made the artistic choice to not make it very gory all things considered. but bullets do alot more than just insta kill people and make them fall.

they shatter bones, damage organs, cause severe bleeding, cause differences in limb length long after recovery, its genuinely carnage and disturbing

and they talked about crushes, girls, family, birthdays, poetry open mics as if they weren’t planning to inflict that damage and more.

whats more eerie is how they talk about it. like they talk so casually about it as if theyre talking about what theyre doing next weekend and not destroying lives.

the same awkward teenagers i described committed mass murder that we see unfold play-by-play. and thats a big part in why zero day is so fucking terrifying.