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lovieku · 3 days ago

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MOTHERFUCKIN’ TRAIN WRECK! ⋆ 정국

𐙚 if you were my boyfriend… and you were my girlfriend…

when renowned fuckboy jeon jeongguk catches feelings, he loses his mind. only when it comes to you, though.

based on this ask

from the grande series ୨ৎ

pairing: fuckboy!jk x fem!reader

genre: fwb au

warnings: small smutty moments (cunnilingus, fingering, tiny boob play), angst, fluffi maybe idk, whipped and jelly koo, ft. namjoon!!!, oblivious oc, deep down she feels it too but jk is simply too much of a simp so it doesn’t look like it at first, he’s also so petty and sassy, jokes about ending it if oc doesn’t give him a chance </3, he’s just a little shit, peep the lyrics from boyfriend hehe, oh btw happy ending!!!

word count: 18k

a/n: wowww i’m so sorry for this pile of nonsense, it’s so bad i vomited a little in my mouth. i hate every single thing about it but i didn’t wanna leave you guys starved. i love u sm and thank u for the support, but u’re allowed to leave hate asks for what u’re about to read rn ❤️ also i’m SO SORRY for being unable to write a jungkook who isn’t a simp

🏷️ perm taglist: @ceellliiinee @jaytheatiny @dolligguk @luvismenu @theyloveyams @stillwjk-channie-lixie @bookstoread199 @girlygguk @vieviela @myngiii @angelxkoo @nnybtitts08 @mpbrinkss @https-mei @lyywst @mhdelu @apobangpogirlyyy @khadeeeeej @awrkive

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Jeongguk was only supposed to clean you up. That’s what he calls it when his angelic face finds its place between your spread legs, sinful eyes locking with yours, paired with a smirk you can hardly ever survive.

After all, he’s a man of simple devices. Why bother fetching a towel when he can use his own mouth? When he can let his tongue lap at your juices, slurp every last trace, have an excuse to taste you again, and again, and again?

It’s barely even effective as a way to clean you up, of drying the slick mess that sticks to your inner thighs from cumming three times under his merciless doings— you both know that. Then, how does he expect you not to break a fourth when he runs his wet muscle so torturously along your slit, getting ever more soaked?

Jeongguk is not really trying to end the night. He’s drawing it out. He already had you unraveling in phases— first on his fingers, then all over his cupid lips, ending with you convulsating just another time around his thick length.

It was rough, left purplish marks of his harsh hold digging into your sides, a faint trace of a forbidden hickey just under your collarbones, where you can easily hide it.

In all fairness, he couldn’t help it.

It was you who provoked him. You always do, getting under his skin, teasing him about his skills, downgrading them with playful indifference and nothing more than a meh, as Jeongguk rasps in your ear, clearly affected by your session of foreplay when asking, “Does this make you feel good?”

You’ll be sent straight to hell for lying like that, with seemingly no remorse, but you’re unable to resist the dangerous game and the familiar thrill that comes from it. Nothing compares to the dark wave that takes over his hooded eyes, his motions ever more intentional, almost overwhelming.

He moves to prove something to you, to show you there’s no one quite like him, even with all the guys in your phone, on your lips, inside your sheets.

Jeongguk is your fuckbuddy, and your friend on top of the rest. So, when he first laid his lips on yours, the bottom line plumper than his cupid’s bow, it had taken a great amount of alcohol to flow through both of your veins and blur the lines, let instinct take over.

From there, it was like you couldn’t help yourselves; the physical attraction was undeniable, it’s what brought you here in between the mess of his bed. If you ignore the silly crush you had on him during the first year of college, this was perfect.

Your fuckbuddy contract (Jeongguk hates calling you that, he prefers my friend who makes me cum a lot) includes a heavy emphasis on a no-strings-attached relationship, that can be interrupted whenever one of the two feels uncomfortable, and that should not come before your friendship. On top of all, you both are not exclusive. No commitment, no jealousy. You’re perfectly free of meeting other people, fucking other people. Unless you’re going to date one of those, of course. Then, bye-bye friend who makes me cum a lot.

These rules were established almost a year ago, after your hands couldn’t help themselves from roaming hastily all over his body, pulling him impossibly closer. It was the second time you allowed yourself to feel him, following the night when he initiated things under the clouded lights of a club.

You couldn’t help it. You had been thinking of that moment for weeks now, and when you were left alone with him in his dorm room, pulse racing, it’s all your thoughts were reduced to. Kiss him, kiss him, fuck him.

You felt guilty. A friend shouldn’t be thinking of another friend like you were about Jeongguk. Especially after you promised yourself you wouldn’t let your buried crush resurface and ruin what you had built— even if the memory of that infatuation is honestly just laughable now (you would never think of dating him, pft).

But Jeongguk, ever the gentlest when it comes to you, assured you it was okay to feel as you did, because he felt it too. And was dying to touch you again. His words, not yours.

It’s only sexual. A casual, sexual relationship. Two friends who happen to find each other irresistible.

So when he reacts with a flash of competitiveness at the mere suggestion he might not be the best you’ve ever had, it’s… weird, the feeling that overcomes you. You acknowledge it for a split second, as if you’re searching to name that something inside you stirring, but before you can, it seems to make you fall apart immediately, your grip tighter, back arched, moans high-pitched.

He basks in his silent victory, in the factual demonstration that he in fact can’t be compared to all your other guys.

Except, there’s actually no other guys.

Back when this friends-with-benefits arrangement first started, you were occasionally fooling around with an older guy from campus named Mingyu. Jeongguk knew him, given that they’re in the same photography class. He was also aware of your casual fling with him. And yet, Jeongguk still kissed you. Actually, did so much more than just that.

Either way, the line has always been clear: he has no right to question who you spend time with and what you engage in, Jeongguk isn’t a saint either.

You love him, you truly do. With time, he has become one of your closest friends, and you honestly can’t see yourself getting through college without him.

But there’s no denying the fuckboy allegations, the ones that are constantly thrown at him all around campus. He is a fuckboy. It must be his easy charm, flirting as natural as breathing, tripping out his tongue with seemingly not much thought. At some point, the majority of the girls in your campus got to have their moment with Jeongguk, either because of mindless teasing or one night stands, occasionally turning into casual arrangements.

You have accepted it as part of who he is. You know his fuckboy habits haven’t magically changed when you two started fucking. He doesn’t really spend much time talking about it with you, occasionally mentioning his doings every now and then, but you don’t need to know; his friends and the people whispering in hallways and lecture halls fill in the blanks.

That is exactly why you’ve let Jeongguk believe that your sexual life is equally as busy, floods of boys from your inbox to your sheets, as if you aren’t too much of a hopeless romantic to even think of anything that isn’t exclusively monogamous.

But this isn’t the case. Jeongguk isn’t yours, you aren’t his. It’s just about sex, and you’ve accepted that. You don’t want anything more from him. You tell yourself the only reason you’re not seeing anyone else is that the idea of it makes you uneasy. That you’re more than satisfied with Jeongguk being your friend-turned-into-fuckbuddy, and you don’t need other ones.

Jeongguk is more than enough. Oh, he is.

“Fuck, Gguk. You’re gonna make me cum— Ah, shit— again.”

Your head is thrown back in his pillow, legs weakly tightening around his head nestled so close to your core, and it’s clear his goal has completely shifted from getting you clean and neat when the tip of his tongue moves to flicker on your sensitive nub, relentlessly abusing it with casual kissing and sucking.

He opens his mouth to take more of you, his wet muscle tracing your slit and teasing your entrance for— sadly —the shortest second, and the way he hums approvingly against you brings you even closer to the breaking point.

You’re a fragile mess, overstimulated from the previous orgasms but desperate to chase yet another climax, his hands roaming up to find your breast only spurring you further.

Jeongguk knows you by now, and is aware of all the subtle gestures that make you come undone under him. He knows just what to do to push you over the edge, and when to do it exactly.

You’re a sucker for dirty talk and praise, and occasionally, when the ideal situation comes, you love being degraded. It’s a side of you that only ever arises during sex, mind hazed and irrational, the delirious need for release clouding all your usually composed senses.

At first, he teased you for it. Not because he’s not as much of a fan as you are of talking during sex, but because he never pictured you to be the loud type. And you truly are.

Jeongguk pinches your nipples in hopes of you getting the message and lowering your volume, but it only makes you whine higher, your moans surely not going unnoticed by the other students in the dorm.

It can only be worse when he decides to speak against you, his voice a low, almost unintelligible growl, “Pussy’s so fuckin’ good. All mine, fuck. Want to taste your cum once again, c’mon babe. Give it to me.”

And you, always obliging and well-behaved, let go for a fourth time, hips furiously rutting against his face, his words making your surroundings spin, the way his nose would brush your sensitive nub having your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Your gasp is strained when he retreats with one last wet stripe between your puffy lips, sealing the orgasm with a kiss on your clit, and when he finds your face again there’s a cockish grin spreading across his, chin coated with your juices.

He immediately meets your mouth then, sharing your own taste, and you both moan shamelessly at the action.

Jeongguk collapses next to you, his body warm and relaxed, pulling you closer by your waist and almost making you straddle him with the force of his hold. He sighs into your hair, kissing the root of it, “You did amazing for me, pretty girl.”

A pleasant shiver runs down your spine at the praise and the pet name rolling off his tongue with ease. It’s ridiculous.

With your cheek pressed against his chest, you glance up at him through your lashes and a lazy smile threatens to take over your face, but your playful pout is more prominent, almost convincing, “I’m never letting you do that trick on me again. Next time, I’m just going to take a shower like a normal person.”

The laugh he lets out is rich and unguarded, his chest rumbling under your ear, and it makes you pull away with a mock glare, brows knitted together as you swat at his toned stomach, “Don’t laugh. I hated that.”

His dark eyes soften as they dance with amusement, the corners crinkling, and he hums, going along with your blatant lie from the way your lips struggle to contain a grin, “Oh, absolutely. You were screaming in horror, couldn’t stand it.”

“Whatever,” you mutter incoherently, standing up to escape from the inevitable loss. The slick between your thighs reminds you of why you need that shower in the first place, causing you to awkwardly wobble your way to his bathroom.

Jeongguk watches you with a lopsided smirk, stretched out on the bed, his brown hair a messy halo on the pillow, and it completes the concept he goes perfectly with, the one of a devil dressed up as an angel, even more when his voice drips with faux desperation, “Hey, come back. I need my cuddles.”

“You’ll live,” you toss back before pulling the door shut behind you and stepping into the warm embrace of the shower. The hot water stings at first, then soothes you, sliding down your skin.

Jeongguk already knows the outcome of what he’s about to do isn’t going to turn in his favor, but he tries his luck regardless, standing up hastily and limply making his way to his bathroom door.

He only knocks twice, then puts on his best begging voice, talking loud enough to be heard over the shower, “Toots?”

“No!”

A scoff filters through the steamy air, followed by the unmistakable creak of the door handle as he steps inside. He’s relentless, voices his thoughts with the kind of logic only he would find convincing, “C’mon, we’ll save water!”

You stand with your back to him, his body wash traveling down your skin in soap bubbles, the scent filling the air, and you let your shoulders shrug. You don’t turn around. Number one, because you’ll give in. Number two, because you can hear the pout on his lips, and that’s the reason for number one.

You try your best to sound annoyed, “Jeongguk, just leave. You don’t even pay for it.”

“Our poor earth pays for it,” he quips, stepping further into the cramped space, body still bare, and that’s maybe a number three for you, “Because you wanna be so unfair to your best friend and leave him out in the cold.”

“You’re not my best friend.”

His gasp is dramatic, you even hear it echo through the tiny room, and you fight hard to contain the giggle locked inside you, but it escapes in the shape of a snort, which you quickly try to conceal by clearing your throat. You even further go with the lie, “You heard me.”

“Unbelievable. I’m kicking you out the second you’re done here,” he tries his best menacing tone, the threat barely harsh and effective, closing the door behind his back with an exaggerated thump, followed by unintelligible grumbling.

You take your sweet time in his now steamy bathroom. You shampoo twice, deliberately squeezing out a generous amount of his own fancy product in your palm, making sure the squeak of the bottle is heard through the door so he knows you’re helping yourself. His high-quality hair dryer blasts warm air over your damp hair until it’s only mildly wet. And you even rummage around his cabinet, indulging in his collection of expensive skincare creams. These little luxuries are exactly why you never pass a single occasion to shower over at his dorm room.

And the second you’re done in there, he doesn’t kick you out like he threatened. It takes a moment for him to move his attention from his phone to your figure, wrapped around in his fluffy robe, and he doesn’t even try to keep up the menacing act. Still spread on his ruined bed, his furrowed brows relax, and his lips break into a grin. He scans your face, then giggles, “You’ve got a massive pimple on your forehead.”

“Fuck you. I’m taking one of your hoodies.”

“It’s called borrowing,” even in the midst of checking out your freshly-washed naked body, now being stripped from his bathrobe, he’s still committed to the game of banter you two always play.

“It’s not if I’m not giving it back,” you counter, voice muffled by the fabric of one of his many black sweatshirts you’re already pulling over your head, quickly shuffling into your jeans, helping them up with some small hops that make him grin.

He doesn’t seem bothered by your comeback, too used to losing his own clothes to your closet; rather, he watches you move with what seems like hurry around his dimly lit room. He shifts higher, letting the sheets slip to reveal his still bare, and slightly sweaty torso, “Wanna hang out together at the party tomorrow?”

”Hmm, I’ll just see you there,” you don’t pay him much attention, using your phone camera as a mirror to wipe away any smudged mascara under your eyes. “I’ve already got a partner, actually.”

Jeongguk fully sits up now, vision a little blurry from the hasty and sudden movement, phone forgotten, “A partner?”

The way you casually let a smile tug at your lips while talking about a man is new, “Yeah. A guy from my English class asked me to go with him. He’s pretty cute.”

You’re too busy shoving your belongings in your bag and mentally cataloging every single item to notice the expression your best friend is currently sporting, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. Tank top, makeup, laptop… where the fuck is— oh, here. Lip balm. What else?

Jeongguk thinks you’re forgetting something deathly important. A fucking explanation, maybe? He’s known you to occasionally fool around with random guys, but he thought it was just that. Occasional and random. When did it get to having a partner? That sounds silly. Or maybe a little too formal, a little too real. What the fuck does having a partner even entail?

You’re blissfully unaware of the stubborn storm taking over Jeongguk’s thoughts, especially because you’re not exactly sparing him a second glance, moving with single-minded focus, hurrying to leave. Because apparently it’s so bad to want to spend the night with your best friend. Share a bed, watch a movie, talk gossip (it’s been so long since you’ve updated him the way only you can about the latest campus stories, ugh). Amazing, yes, that’s totally fine with Jeongguk.

And he does manage to sound unbothered, “What’s his name?”

“Namjoon.”

Jeongguk focuses on your slim fingers slipping your lip balm into the front pocket of your bag, syllabes leaving his lips in a slow mumble, “Ah, Namjoon. I know him. I guess.”

Fucking Kim Namjoon. Of course he knows him. 6 feet tall, polite, model student Kim Namjoon. Shit. Great choice. No, really, he’s the perfect catch.

“Hm? Well, I think he’s very nice. And hot as fuck.”

He grimaces, “Gross.”

“You’re one to talk,” pulling the hood over your head, you finally meet his eyes. You’re completely oblivious to the thoughts gnawing at him, so you think his disappointment is only caused by your next words, “I should get going now.”

“What? You’re not staying over for dinner?” The way he looks up at you with doe, puppy-dog eyes almost makes you trip on your own resolution, but you only ruffle his hair from your stance next to his bed, hoping the small action is enough to satisfy your hunger. Not for dinner.

“Nah, sorry Gguk. Gotta get up early for English class.”

He scoffs, moving stubbornly from your soothing touch, “Sure. English class with Joohyuk.”

“…Namjoon.”

“Right, that’s what I said. Namsun.”

You raise an eyebrow, half-laughing, “No, it’s Namjoon.”

“Namgi.”

“Namjoon.”

“Whatever, don’t care.” The words have barely any space to roll out through his pout, and along with his petty little slip-ups it’s the most childish act you’ve seen him pull so far. To be completely honest, he seems to break a new record every other day.

You fight the urge to roll your gaze at the ceiling, finding it impossible to deal with pouty, hungry and cuddle-starved Jeongguk. You sigh, muttering, “Insufferable.”

“Give me a kiss, brat.”

The teasing comes so naturally that for a second you don’t ponder on the demand being something a normal friend wouldn’t exactly ask. But it isn’t one you’ll deny.

You bend down to meet him as easily as he let the request out, muttering a playful Oh, I’m the brat now? before brushing his pushed lips with yours in a sweet, short kiss, enough to draw a soft sigh from both of you. You hum against it, voice warm with something that contradicts your words entirely, “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“Sure,” rolling your eyes, you grant his cocky figure that little win, too tired to put up a fight, even if you almost rethink it when he confidently leans back against the pillows, smirking up at you. You decide to cut it short, it’s for the best, throwing your bag over your shoulder as well as one last look at him, before readying yourself for the walk of shame through his frat.

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Namjoon is, by all standards, the perfect guy. He’s genuine, smiles sweetly with his dimples showing and his eyes crinkling into crescents that make him seem both wise and youthful.

Careful, even protective over you, making sure you’re comfortable. With your drink, with your seat, with your conversation.

Almost too attentive, which should calm your nerves, but instead you feel yourself unable to fully let go. Open up to him like he’s doing with you, like you think you want to do.

You’re not sure. You can’t feel that mysterious spark everybody talks about. That spark Jeongguk admitted he’s never felt with anyone so far, no matter the number of girls he’s been with. The one he’s confessed he’s desperate to feel. The one you hope he can find.

Wait, why are you thinking about Jeongguk?

Said boy has yet to acknowledge you, standing across from you in the crowded living room of your mutual friend’s house. Each weekend, the same ritual brings you back here, whenever Taehyung’s parents head off for one of their rich-people, luxurious trips. The space is familiar, a backdrop to countless parties, all too often ending in someone’s drunken confessions and stolen kisses that’d become the talk of campus until the next party came around.

As tradition would want, with the clock ticking its way past midnight, you’d be drunk out of your mind already. Tonight, however, you’re not even sure you want to be here.

Namjoon is keeping close tabs on your drinks, monitoring each glass you reach for, and you know he means well; ordinarily, you’d find it sweet, endearing even. But it only seems to heighten your anxiety now. It just reminds you of how out of place this whole thing feels. You want to drown your awkwardness in a wave of liquid courage, and the irony isn’t lost on you: the very reason why you’re nervous is keeping you from numbing it.

Namjoon makes you way too aware of yourself. You wish your first proper hang out wasn’t at a filthy frat party, the blasting music causing you both to lean into each other to make conversation. The proximity makes your palms disgustingly clammy, and you hope he doesn’t reach for your hand.

You also think this isn’t the type of scenario that best suits Namjoon. You would have loved to be with him somewhere softer, with less noise and more light, talking over coffee instead of loud techno, his poetic speech lulling you into infatuation. Maybe then, this would have gone like you had imagined it might. Like you wanted it to go, just to prove something to yourself. You’re still not sure what exactly.

But this house — this party — is a natural habitat for people like Jeongguk. It’s a playground he navigates with ease, his charisma amplified by the darkened rooms and faint cigarette smoke that seems to follow him, just like everyone around him. They exist solely to orbit his mood.

It’s as he saunters back inside after yet another smoke break that you spot him again, his focus entirely on whatever girl is currently at his side. With Namjoon leaving to grab a drink for the two of you to share, you take the short moment to be a shameless creep and study your friend’s movements from the other side of the room.

You can’t help but feel a sting of irritation. Jeongguk is fully aware you’re here. You’d texted him earlier, just something casual to say you’d arrived, maybe even expecting him to meet you or give you a quick wave. Instead, there’d been no reply.

Just like the TikToks you’d sent last night, after you told him you wouldn’t be staying over at his, that also went ignored. You didn’t think too much of it, figured it was probably one of his petty acts. You aren’t any better: it’s not like you’ll go up to him to say hi, not after he ignored you. Those videos were funny, too. He’s the one missing out.

But now, your eyes squinted to try and get the best possible view on each detail of the scene in front of you, what you notice is nothing about him and everything about who he’s currently spending the time he could have used to acknowledge you with.

It’s not just whatever girl. It’s Haeun.

You haven’t seen them hanging out together in what feels like months, and frankly, you’re thrown. Maybe that’s also the reason why he suddenly had no time for you. You scoff.

You’re just confused, really. Jeongguk didn’t mention a thing about her, and it’s not like he’s ever kept his hookups or flings a secret. But Haeun was never just that. She was the one he seemed almost ready to get in his first serious relationship with, the one girl you thought could make him forget all about his usual habits.

When Jeongguk had first started hanging out with Haeun, he’d seemed uncharacteristically interested. You naturally found yourself rooting for him, hoping he’d take a leap and start something real after many failed attempts.

At that point, your casual arrangement with him had been going on for a while, but you knew it wasn’t built to last. You’d expected it to end sooner rather than later, and you were okay with that. You just wanted him to be happy with himself and his choices.

But on the night he was supposed to take Haeun out on a date, the one that could have changed everything, it’s like a magic vacuum turned on and sucked all his progress away. He’d shown up in front of your door instead. No explanations, no details about what had happened; he didn’t want to talk. He only wanted to be near you and sink into silence.

That night you laid next to him, his head on you, hair sprawled out on your stomach, and said absolutely nothing.

Since then, he hadn’t mentioned Haeun at all, and you’d assumed it was over. The right side of your brain was irrationally glad for that, greedily geeking at the prospect of still getting to keep Jeongguk close in ways that go over a simple friendship. In ways that have you thanking God for not taking your friend’s sex skills away from you; in ways that have your nose scrunching whenever he leaves small, delicate pecks on the side of your neck as you watch a movie cuddled in his embrace. If he had decided to go on that date, you would be denied all of this luxury.

The left side of your brain is a little less greedy, a little more rational. The half of your mind responsible for keeping some logic instilled in you even thought it could have been a good thing for Jeongguk to experience a different side of relationships.

You’ve always sensed there to be deeper reasons beneath Jeongguk’s carefree front. You’ve watched him jump from girl to girl, dip in and out of flings with seemingly no thought, as if he’s not trying to bury issues he should find a different answer for, to avoid whatever insecurities he’s run too far away from to face.

He’s never had to spell it out for you. You never pressed him on the topic either. And you think he’s grateful for it, for your silence that offers him the stability he won’t admit he needs, for simply staying and understanding. For allowing him to be vulnerable.

You wish you could give him more than that quiet comfort. Wonder if you should try your luck and push him to see that he does deserve something real— more than the distractions he uses to keep his fears at bay.

Jeongguk would make an incredible boyfriend. He always spots the small details, the slight changes in your mood, and he picks them up before you can even notice yourself, caring in a silent way that doesn't go unnoticed. Not by you.

It’s easy to imagine him being the kind of partner who’d cater to his girl’s needs effortlessly, even in quiet, even if hidden. You know he could be that person if he could just let anyone in beyond sex. When he’ll find the one, it’ll be clear it’s all he was made for.

Right now though, if anyone were to ask you that, you’d advise them to just go and look for another one, because he’s a little, lying piece of shit. You’re just a tad bit upset about it, if your crossed arms and furrowed brows are anything to go by.

You don’t understand why he’s now there, standing next to the girl he himself stood up, the one he looked ready to fix everything for, and then wasn’t. Leaning in close as if nothing had ever happened.

Why couldn’t he tell you, at least give you a heads-up if he was reconnecting with her? You know it shouldn’t bother you as much as it does, but the fact that he’s hiding it stings. Are you overthinking this?

When he lifts his head from her ear and scans the room, his eyes landing right on yours for a brief second just to look away, you don’t think you are. His attention shifts back to Haeun as if he hadn’t seen you at all. What the fuck?

You question what’s the point of having eyes to see when you are now forced to witness Jeongguk leaving the room with Haeun hanging her draggy weight on his arm, his smile cockish as he helps her up by her waist, fingers digging dangerously close to the curve of her perfectly shaped peach.

Their chemistry is undeniable, hands finding skin with unpracticed ease. It must be the way Jeongguk can effortlessly work his charm with any girl he deems attractive enough to fuck, his smirk and the way he lets his nose scrunch almost timidly, as if you can’t see right through him, making women potty in his sculpted hands.

The prospect of your best friend getting laid by the girl he was almost ready to change it all for should make you happy. Smile, at least.

Instead, you frown, mindlessly taking long sips from the straw in your glass and letting it stir your too watered-down cocktail that lacks any real flavor. You don’t even try to find answers as to how another drink landed right on the counter you rest your back on, but you’re glad for it.

You’re more upset at the fact that he decided not to tell you anything. You would have helped him through it, supported him, advised him on what to do, how to move in such a situation. But even if he didn’t need any of this, you would have appreciated just knowing. From him.

The ways in which the two of you are intertwined right at this moment don’t exactly allow him to completely leave you unaware of his actions. It’s not fair.

But then, are you even supposed to feel like this in the first place? Is only sex supposed to have this impact on you? Is even the smallest cell in his brain producing a thought that might take him back to you, and could it compare to a third of what you think and feel?

Does he not get that tingly sensation with you, ‘cause he’s used to it? ‘Cause you’re nothing too different nor special from all the choice he has laid at his feet, nothing out of the usual routine?

A gentle hand on your arm jolts you out of your thoughts. The touch is delicate, but the way it pulls you from your spiral is rough, making you stumble on the already wobbly stool you’re sitting on. When you look to your side, Namjoon meets you with a warm smile.

You hadn’t even noticed him being back next to you, and you figure that’s probably how that drink found its way in your hands. You’re a deer caught in headlights as you look at him, then down at the almost empty glass, then back at the boy. Your eyes widen impossibly more, and you struggle with finding a louder volume to your voice, almost fading with the music, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to finish this all by myself.”

You remember him saying he’d get a drink for the two of you to share before leaving you with your haunting thoughts. He just laughs in a way that should soothe your nerves, but it doesn’t, “It’s okay. You look like you needed it. I’m getting another one for me and catching up with some of my friends over there. I’ll be back in a bit, alright?”

“Yeah, totally. No problem,” your words roll out your tongue in a slurred hurry, face already turning to the opposite side of the room, and you’re not even sure what you’re agreeing on. You just feel Namjoon slip away from the seat next to yours again.

The brief interaction was enough for Jeongguk to have time to completely disappear from your strict observing, and just like the boy who should have had your undivided attention tonight, he equally slips away. From your vision, from the party. And from you. He’s with Haeun now, after all. And you’re alone.

Being truthful, Jeongguk is once again slipping away from his problems only. He doesn’t know how he ended up with Haeun by his side, but when he found your big, confused eyes in the midst of what should have been his escape for the night, he thinks he could name a few reasons.

It’s suffocating, the grip you have on him. He can almost feel one of your slim, delicate hands around his throat. He’s a dirty little sadist, of course he enjoys the pain. But he shouldn’t, so he runs from it until his back hits the wall, and the hold only gets tighter.

There’s nothing to do but face the truth. And you’re in front of him, eyes lost and inviting him to tell you. What should be easy for him to say, what he owes you. But the words get stuck in his throat, right where you’re pressing, and he feels like he might stop breathing.

He could die like this, with your narrowed orbs pitying him, and he badly wishes you would call him a coward. The hold is just enough to hurt him, not to make him lose his senses; if anything, it only makes his head spin around the one thought he wants to avoid. You.

With the quickest distraction he could get his hands on, he keeps adding to it: Haeun clinging to his side, he steps out the packed room to light the nth cigarette, the smoke clouding his vision and making the image of you fade from behind his eyelids. You release your hand from him and disappear. He almost whines. He misses you already. But the faint ache is a reminder.

Instead, in front of him is the only girl he should have truly avoided. Haeun is another reminder. Not because she looks similar to you, you’re way prettier. You’re beautiful.

No, it’s just because he remembers Haeun being his first victim, using her to bury something stronger growing inside him. But it didn’t work then, and it doesn’t work now.

She’s the only girl he tried his luck with to avoid his now unavoidable feelings for you. Then, he physically couldn’t touch another woman beside you. So he started flirting with more cigarettes and alcohol. Maybe some joints then and there.

Jeongguk would love to know why he prefers destroying himself rather than just be the confident man he lets everyone else think he is, go up to you and be honest, like you make it so easy for him to be. The fact that it almost slipped out of him more than a couple times scares him.

It shouldn’t. He wants to fall into that soothing caress, but could he even handle the possibility of you simply, and rightfully if you deemed it the correct choice, rejecting him?

The answer is no. He can’t afford losing your touch on him, your lashes fluttering when you look up at him, your fingers tracing secret maps on his back. He wonders if you’re outlining the safest ways for him to escape from the maze he himself created, of which he forgot the exit to.

With Haeun pressing herself to his side, he thinks he’d rather stay trapped there at this point. A maze built by lies, letting you believe he’s fucking other girls on the side when he feels sickened just by the thought of it, his hand now coming up to push the girl back to a safe distance. Built by insecurities, preferring having you think that you’re simply one of the many he has when he firmly believes you’re the only one that the universe has especially assigned him to.

It’s making him lose his mind, while you live unaware, free from the truth. He’s sure in the stretch that went from yesterday, when you told him about your fucking partner, and tonight, seeing you so close to said partner’s face, your dress custom-made by the hands of every angel populating heaven, Jeongguk developed some kind of clinical illness. The flame of jealousy in his toned tummy has eaten him whole.

And he feels slightly ashamed of himself knowing this is how he found himself circling back to his first poor attempt at running away from you, in the form of a short girl, her eyes now questioning him just like yours had done earlier. Haeun furrows her brows, “Are you seriously doing this again?”

Jeongguk sighs, glancing away to take a long drag from his cigarette that fills his lungs and almost aches. He avoids the eye contact that would be needed for a conversation like the one he’s forced to have — one that wouldn’t have occured in the first place if he could just be a normal person — instead he looks back to the room through the glass doors, “I’m sorry, Hae. I— I can’t do this—“

“Yo, Gguk. You need to come with me now. ___ is throwing up in the bathroom.”

It’s Taehyung sliding the glass door open with more force than what he usually puts, and right now nobody would tell he’s the same one always advising his friends to be delicate with it. The look on his face is panicked and it quickly reflects in Jeongguk’s eyes, flickering between his friend and Haeun.

Next, his reflexes are quicker. He steps inside the house, skipping past Taehyung and the flood of college students dancing their Friday away to Usher and seemingly not caring about the urgency written all over his expression.

He makes it to the bathroom where people have started to crowd around as if lining up to an unmissable show, and he doesn’t care if his pushes are too rough as he makes his way through.

You’re quite literally hugging the toilet, your face one with the lid as a few girls try and help you with your hair. The moment they see Jeongguk, it’s like they know he’s the one that you need, that he’s finally here and you’re in good hands. He shoots them a quick nod as they step aside and then, he’s immediately crouching next to you, gently gathering your long locks into his fist.

He moves some stray strands behind your ears while you keep letting it all out, and as much as his broad back is enough to hide you from watchful eyes, he can still hear murmurs from onlookers.

It’s as Jeongguk is debating whether he should cuss them out or keep his attention on you that Taehyung comes to promptly clear the crowd, closing the bathroom door behind him only after making sure his friend doesn’t need any more help.

Jeongguk appreciates the gesture, knowing how overwhelmed you can get in these scenarios with too many people around. Although, no matter how calm he appears for your sake, his heart races even as you seem to settle and sit on the tiled floor, your back resting against the cool wall.

You gulp down a few times, squeezing your eyes to try and ground yourself, the way you can feel Jeongguk’s hand hold the side of your leg, his thumb delicately brushing the inside of your thigh, definitely helping.

“Toots,” he whispers, face close to your own, “Hey, doll. You’re okay now, hm? What happened?” His voice is low, slow, almost scared of flowing past his lips.

When you open your eyes he’s directly in front of you, squatting down to stay on your level, and his brows are drawn high in worry.

You sniff, your voice still rough from the scratching on your throat, “Fucking— Jimin. I met him in the kitchen and we mixed too much shit together—“

“Weren’t you with Kim Namjoon?” Jeongguk interrupts you, both his tone and the way his eyebrows now dip inquisitive.

You shrug, looking down at your fingers fidgeting, “Dunno. Why the fuck am I still not sober,” the way you tone the question doesn’t make it sound like one, and you end up giggling at yourself, hiccuping in the process.

Jeongguk sighs, unconsciously tightening his hold around your leg, his fingers digging and making you whimper subtly. He notices, soothing the skin only to take both his hands to scoop you up by your armpits, lifting both your bodies on your feet.

You yelp, throwing your weight on him with another one of your senseless chuckles, looking up at his bothered face through your lashes. He straightens your posture with wide palms on your waist, throwing one of your arms around his shoulders and causing you to step out of the small room on your tiptoes. He grumbles, “I’m taking you back to the dorm now. And we’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

“Talk about what?”

“Namjoon.”

You stay quiet as the both of you, your body snug against his, walk through the party and out the house to reach Jeongguk’s car. Your thoughts are sluggish, failing to grasp why he’d even want to talk about Namjoon. Isn’t he just a nice guy? You’re more concerned with Jeongguk’s seemingly irked tone and the distressed way his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek.

A soft, involuntary whine escapes you when you think you might be the reason for that, shuffling yourself closer into his warmth, but the contact is brief as he gently settles you into the passenger seat and clicks the belt, then he closes your door and circles the car to the driver’s side.

Awkward. The only sound that can be heard is the soft hum of the engine, beside the fuzzy buzz in your ears. You feel laughter bubbling up in your chest but you hold it there, turning to study Jeongguk’s side profile. Inhaling, you start, “Can you— can I put on—”

“No.”

Your smile falters, “What? C’mon, give me the aux.”

“The last thing I want right now is to listen to those songs.”

Any previous tipsy instinct that made you want to laugh at the situation fade with his words and the way his grip on the steering wheel says more than what he’s letting on. You’re hazy, but his clenched jaw and laser focus on the road make you sit up straighter, adjusting your slouched posture and the skirt of your dress with it, pulling it further down your thighs.

The tension coming off him feels so heavy that it leads to irrational, childish tears pricking your eyes, and you sound defeated when you whisper, “Are you mad at me?”

He brakes a little too hard at the red light, and you both lurch slightly forward. Jeongguk seems to realize just now that he’s unfairly taking his anger out on you, and the way you let out the question in the smallest voice makes his heart speed up, turning to you with apprehension, “No, toots. No, why would I be? I’m mad at that fucker.”

“He was just talking with some of his—”

“He left you alone. He was supposed to take care of you. Not let you get fucking wasted.”

Jeongguk sounds final, his tone allowing no more condoning nor excuses for the tall guy now left behind you, back at the party. But you don’t seem to focus too much on the meaning of his words, rather you bask in the consequences of them. He’s not upset with you!

That spurs you to contradict him further, this time on the accusation he threw at you, but it’s less than credible when you say it through a sheepish smile that unconsciously made its way on your lips at the protective edge to his tone, “I’m not fucking wasted.”

Jeongguk only sighs, but you can see him visibly relax, shoulders going down and leaning against the back of his seat, right hand coming to pat your bare knee with a small smile on his pierced lips.

You share a look that fully sobers you up only to get you high all over again off his doe eyes, the artificial lights dotting a universe of their own in those orbs, undiscovered galaxies and planets inviting you to move there, even with no water, no oxygen, no way of surviving.

When the soft hue of the red light reflecting on the side of your face morphs to green, he moves his attention back on the road, taking his hand with it to shift gears. Then, he concedes, “Put on the playlist.”

You blink, a little taken aback by his sudden shift in mood, but just as quickly you recover. Your brain seems to be able to focus on one thing at a time either way, so you don’t ponder on your insides collectively moving at the way he looked at you and instead reach for the aux cord, fingers tapping on your phone screen absentmindedly, with a conscience of their own.

Music interrupts the quiet, and you can’t help but join, “The night we met I knew I, needed you so. And if I had the chance I’d, never let you go. Sing with me!”

Jeongguk breaks into a grin, no matter how much he fights it, “You’re so fucking wasted.”

“So won’t you say you love me? I’ll make you so proud of me. We’ll make ‘em turn their heads every place we go, so won’t you please,” Be My Baby by The Ronettes fills the previous silent tension, which you seemingly already forgot everything about, using Jeongguk’s free hand as your own personal microphone, folding it in a fist between your palms.

Jeongguk would never say it out loud, especially now, after he only pretended he had to be begged to put it on, that he’s actually grown attached to this playlist. Started as a little mishap and turned into something that got under his skin, much like you have.

Its creation came about from a comically embarrassing moment that gave you ammunition to tease him for weeks. Although, he’s glad for it when he reflects deep enough: the whole episode helped shape the bond between you two, adding to its foundation.

He still doesn’t know how you managed to slip so sneakily into his dorm that evening, but what’s sure is that he wasn’t expecting you, taking the time of his life in his bathroom, fresh out of the shower. Simply following his usual routine, one that you wouldn’t have exactly considered usual since you only ever knew him as an avid Drake listener, he hummed along to Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling in Love flowing softly from his phone speaker.

It wasn’t just that, of course, because then he started styling his wet hair in an exaggerated pompadour and fully got into character, strutting dramatic poses in front of the mirror and even practicing Elvis’s iconic curl of the lip. If his soul was by any chance watching over the scene, you’d hoped he’d agree with you that Jeongguk was truly giving Austin Butler a run for his money.

The private show sadly ended when he caught sight of you in the foggy glass, your lips sealed shut to try and hold your delighted laughter, but it got ripped out of you in the form of an obnoxious snort the moment his eyes went wide in horror and his face crimson in shame.

It was hell for a few weeks after that. You didn’t let him off so easily, teasing him for being a secret softie with a love for old-school romance under all the layers of his tough fuckboy image that only ever seemed to handle trappy beats.

When you jokingly suggested he might as well get fully into the act and start calling you toots or something, he didn’t back down from the tease, scoffing at you with narrowed eyes. Somewhere along the way, the dry, sardonic tone with which he first used that pet name on you stuck, and it became less of a joke, more of an endearing way to refer to you, and only you.

Before either of you could second-guess it, the playlist was born. You two crafted it together in fits of laughter and late-night texts, with Jeongguk suggesting songs from his secret stash and you contributing the ones you grew up on.

It quickly became the soundtrack to many of your aimless car rides, something that neither of you acknowledged outright but silently cherished. Sometimes, you’d get so carried away and slip into the roles of a ‘60s couple, playfully reciting cheesy lines back and forth.

No matter how much Jeongguk pretends he hates it to save what’s left of his bad boy reputation, he really doesn’t. Not even a little bit. Even the way he rolls his eyes and groans isn’t enough to hide the spark in his eyes when you sing along.

He feels worse than a pubescent teenager when he lets his guard slip to hear you hum words he can only imagine are just for him, meant in the way he wants. You swing side by side and smile up at him with dimples digging long slits into your cheeks, and he has to act as if it makes him feel completely normal and not like he’s going to crash his car any second.

Each lyric that spills from your mouth feels like it’s tying him down, even with your sweet voice a little unsteady, thanks to whatever is still left from the night’s drinks. You’re so not aware of what it does to him.

Your eyes are on the road, but Jeongguk’s linger on you, his fingers unconsciously tapping the steering wheel to the tune.

“I’d save every day like a treasure, and then, again, I would spend them with you.”

Jeongguk purposefully veers off onto streets he doesn’t need to take, buying himself a few extra minutes with you, but you don’t notice and he pretends to not know either. Would never admit it’s because he wants to hear you sing a little more, and that this ongoing joke between the two of you might be his favorite thing in the whole world.

“But there never seems to be enough time to do the things you want to do once you find them. Hold on, this one’s a little lower. I’ll find my note, wait,” you’re mostly talking to yourself, cheek pressed to the cool glass of the window, but you glance at Jeongguk as if seeking for approval, clearing your throat, “I’ve looked around enough to know that you’re the one I want to go through time with.”

Just as Time in a Bottle by Jim Croce fades out, Jeongguk pulls into the campus parking lot, turning the engine off and cutting the music with it. None of you move right away, accepting the stillness in the car.

You don’t accept the silence, though, letting your mind speak a thought that has been nagging at you, “Can you fuck me here? Right now?”

The way you voice the request would make anybody who didn’t understand English think you’d just asked for something as mundane as a glass of water, your eyes unfaltering, a small smile on your waiting lips, voice barely slicing through the quiet. It’s almost as if you don’t know it’s the kind of thing that could derail Jeongguk’s entire thought process.

Jeongguk lightly chokes on his own breath, giving a few coughs before turning to you, his tattooed hand messing his hair further, “Jesus Christ, ___. You know I can’t.”

You tilt your head, considering him, as if this is a serious debate rather than drunken rambling, “Why not?”

Jeongguk can only sigh. He takes in your disheveled state and notices the way your exposed skin prickles with the cold, reaching for the leather jacket he carelessly threw on the backseats before heading to the party, having had no idea you’d be the one wearing it by the end of the night.

He wraps it gently around your shoulders, moving sticky, stray strands of hair from your face, “You’re so drunk. Look at you.”

“I told you I’m not,” you protest weakly, but your confidence falters when his fingers ghost over your face.

“There’s vomit in your hair,” he shuts you bluntly, tone softer than the honest words.

“Oh,” your stubbornness doesn’t work this time, and you’re mortified as you glance down at your lap, where his fingers fall to mindlessly play with the zip of his bomber jacket, brushing your tummy in the process. Your voice doesn’t sound so sure now, especially when each subtle graze sends small shocks through you, “That’s disgusting.”

The soft chuckle he lets out has you stealing a look upward, and when you catch his expression your slowed down brain can only come to the conclusion that maybe he doesn’t find you all that disgusting: he sports a rare, wide curve of his bunny smile, eyes crinkling when that same fondness finds its way onto your lips. You can’t help what they do next, a mind of their own as you rest them on his own mouth, the tip of his nose tickling your cheek.

It’s the faintest of kisses, and it’s delicate, fleeting, over far too soon, but you’re the one to pull back first no matter how much longer you need it to be, “That was probably disgusting too.”

As you rest your back on the seat again, his eyes are still closed, and they flutter open as slowly as a smile stretches on his mouth when he meets you. You’re giving him a look he doesn’t deserve, one he shouldn’t lean into.

His voice is a whisper, and it fans over your face, still close to his, “Not at all.”

Gleaming eyes scan every angle of you, as if trying to find anything that’ll hold him back from what he really wants to do. But, of course, his need only grows when he lets his gaze wander down, then up again.

He glances to the side with a gulp, moving his body back to reach for the car door handle, “You think you can walk or should I carry you?”

“Carry me, please,” you mumble, not even pondering on the first option, and the moment the sound leaves your lips he’s out and reaching for your side, opening your door and scooping you up like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The walk to his dorm is a blur, with you dozing off in his warmth and being lulled by the hums escaping him and reverberating through his chest, melodies of the earlier songs playing against your ear.

You regain awareness when a splash of warm water cascades over your now naked body, the sensation startling enough to make your lashes flutter against your damp cheeks. The water runs over your face, washing away the remnants of the night, the drowsy yet oddly light sensation taking over you causing a giggle to echo against the walls.

You’re still too disoriented to process the tenderness with which Jeongguk’s hand moves, brushing through your soaked strands of hair and moving them from where they flattened on your face, combing through the sticky locks.

With half-open eyes, you’re met with the sight of him in front of you, standing close enough without needing to step into the small space with you, his brows furrowed as he works the shampoo through your hair. It’s a soothing, slow motion, the one he massages your scalp with, and it only melts you further into sweet slumber.

If it weren’t for one of his hands resting tightly on your hip, grounding you as the scent of the shampoo mingles with the steam curling around you, you would have gladly swayed into his palm, letting your weak body fall into his strong one.

You sniff, leaning into his care, voice small and oddly sincere, “I’m sorry for,” hiccup, “taking you away from Haeun. You two seem close again.”

Jeongguk stills for a moment, his fingers pausing in your hair before resuming their soft motions. He pretends he didn’t hear, and you pretend you never talked in the first place when he guides you to steady yourself as your knees wobble, “Hey, stand still. You’ll get shampoo in your eyes. Close them.”

You obey, letting your eyelids drop shut as you feel his hand gently tilt your head under the spray, his touch as tender as the words he isn’t saying.

If you weren’t a victim of both sleepiness and alcohol at this very moment, your thoughts would be racing each other like eager contenders in the Overthinker Marathon, each one fighting tooth and nail for the gold medal. They’d be dissecting every little detail of the night— the way Jeongguk had ignored you, his lingering hand on Haeun’s waist, only to be there the second you needed him, the girl from earlier not even worth mentioning.

Instead, your every thinking cell has taken a rare vacation, lounging together on an imaginary green field, clinking glasses filled with leftover cocktails from earlier, lazily watching clouds drift by.

Although there’s one cell in particular, too tipsy to sit still. It hops around gleefully, urging your lips to move before the Thinking Cell General can intervene. The way it jumps up and down, up and down, makes you giggle as you blurt out, “I don’t know if it’s the water, but I’m very wet.”

The silence that follows is thick, punctuated only by the sound of water cascading down your back. Jeongguk freezes as if the words have physically reached out and yanked him into stunned stillness. He can only let his throat bob in a visible swallow and look away, warning you in a strained mutter, “___. This is your last warning. Stop teasing me.”

You whine, pathetically wiggling your weak and pliant body in his hold to seek for some kind of reaction, but he doesn’t budge. He’s uncharacteristically focused on his tasks, ensuring every trace of shampoo rinses from your hair, rather than your hardened nipples bouncing with your stubborn movements.

But you recognise the way his jaw clenches so tight it must hurt, how he refuses to let his gaze wander lower where the steam of water outlines your form. His restraint is razor-thin, yet he holds it tightly, breathing only slightly uneven.

You’re not deterred by his warning; you never are. It’s the tiny tracks in his resolve that keep you pressing forward, voice laced with a vulnerability that makes his hand twitch against your scalp, “Just… I just need your fingers. Please.”

Jeongguk exhales sharply through his nose, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he angles the spray to wash the last suds away, hyper-focused on the practical task as though it’s a lifeline to his dwindling self-control.

But you’re persistent. You reach behind you, fingers messily finding the knob to twist the water off, and with the spray halting you’re left only with the hum of the bathroom fan and the faint drip of water.

Your other hand finds his, guiding his wide palm to rest on your lower stomach, just above where your want is written in every inch of your body. You whisper, plead clear in your tone, ”You know I want this. Won’t ever regret it. I’m conscious enough to be sure of that.”

Jeongguk huffs, his chest rising and falling as he stares down at you, fingers flexing slightly against your skin. He closes his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply as if accepting defeat. He can’t win this battle.

The brown-haired boy steps into the shower, the small space shrinking even further with the addition of his broader frame, forcing you to back up against the wall. Fully dressed, water clings to his fabric, and the contrast of his damp clothes against your bare, exposed skin makes you irrationally wetter.

Jeongguk keeps silent, and at this point you don’t care how desperate you look, pushing yourself against him and getting his clothes wetter in the process. It pushes him to initiate a torturous path along your skin, using his middle finger to trace a journey from your chest, savoring the way your breath hitches, down to your warm core.

The droplets of water he collects on the way are used to spread your puffy lips and press right on your sensitive nub, making you gasp. You’re a trembling mess from the simple motion, and he has to use his free hand to steady you against the wall.

Your breasts aren’t left without being taken care of, because the moment he begins circling motions on your clit that have you seeing stars, he lowers his head to envelop one of your tits in his ravenous mouth, teeth teasing it punitively, all while looking up at you with sliced, sinful eyes.

He’s greedy, and you can’t believe he managed to hide it so well until now. But his resolve crumbles the more he revels in the way you fall apart for him, and he loses control on your chest. The sensation is sharp, delicious, and the contrast between the harshness of his bite and the softness of his tongue has you whimpering.

You’re ashamedly aware of how close you already are, his digits picking a fast speed that urges you to let go and coat him in your juices. He knows, simply from the way you let your mouth fall agape and release loud moans in the steamy air, pushing your nipples further in his swollen lips.

When he inserts one finger in your warm hole, you jolt in his secure hold, eyebrows shot upwards in the shock of your sudden orgasm, one that hits you all too harshly. It drags on deliciously, Jeongguk never wanting it to end, the slurping sound of his sucking on your tits making your surrounding spin, along with his thumb accompanying the way his single digits thrusts into you.

He only stops when you unconsciously run from his doings, slim hand wrapping weakly around his wrist, and he retreats with one last wet stripe along the curve of your boob, promptly collecting your taste from his fingers, and he thoroughly hums around them, eyes closed and cheeks hollowed.

You think you could come again from the sight alone. Panting, you smile through your ragged breaths, “Fuck. Thanks.”

Five minutes later, no one would bet you’re the same girl that begged him for his fingers and came in record time around them. Now, you sit serenely on the toilet lid, wrapped up in Jeongguk’s warmest hoodie. The oversized fabric swallows your frame, knees tucked under it as you hug them close to your chest. You look as innocent as ever.

Jeongguk stands in front of you, meticulously brushing through your damp hair with practiced gentleness, each stroke of the comb a soothing lullaby. You rest your chin lazily on your folded arms, eyes closed, the edges of sleep blurring your thoughts.

You let out a contented sigh before murmuring, words unfiltered, “You’d make the perfect boyfriend. You always take care of me. And kiss me when I need it.”

The motions of the brush stop for a fraction of a second before resuming, and what you hear next is Jeongguk’s throat clearing, his voice low and almost shaky, “That sounds so very wrong, toots.”

“What do you mean?” You don’t open your eyes as you ask the question, the warmth of his presence and the excuse of the last traces of alcohol still flowing in your tired body making you bolder than usual.

“You want me to be your boyfriend?”

“In another life, maybe. Yes,” you don’t waste time replying, words carrying a dreamy quality, “I mean, would be cool.”

“Cool?” He chuckles, but it’s the kind that’s half-exasperation and half-something else entirely, voice strained with an edge of desperation too, “God, I don’t even know why I’m still putting up with you.”

You only nuzzle closer into the borrowed hoodie, giving voice to your next thought, your thinking cells now hosting a 60s themed party, “Be my, be my baby. My one and only baby.”

The sound of your singing fades under the whirring roar of the hairdryer, and Jeongguk is quietly thankful for the way it drowns your sweet hums completely, fearing if he hears another one of those tipsy love confessions leaving your lips he might drop to his knees, undone by something he knows he can’t claim.

You rest your head against his stomach, full weight leaning on his standing figure, his long digits pulling through your strands. If you’d look up at your best friend for even one fleeting second, you’d probably laugh at the concentration on his expression, his only goal drying your hair enough to not have you waking up with a headache the following day.

You sniffle and snuggle impossibly closer to him, the heat radiating from his tummy and the white noise lulling you further into drowsiness, every careful motion of his hand coaxing you closer to sleep.

When your phone pings from the bathroom counter, the sudden buzz makes you jolt slightly. You lift your head sluggishly and gesture toward the phone, mouthing up to Jeongguk, “Pass it.”

He hands it to you without turning off the hairdryer, keeping an eye on your sleepy movements. You blink at the bright light for a moment before your expression shifts, eyes widening.

You’re completely jolted awake at the only notification on your home screen: it's Namjoon.

You tap Jeongguk’s stomach with the heel of your hand— softly at first, then with increasing urgency. The repeated motion forces him to stop the device and place it on the counter as he looks down at you, trying to peek at the screen, “What?”

You hiccup and sniff before blurting out, “Namjoon. He texted me”

The boy that was just now carefully drying your hair scoffs, arms crossed over his chest, “What does that asshole want?”

The response to the rhetorical question doesn’t come, either because you decide to ignore it purposefully or unconsciously: you look totally engulfed by the words on your otherwise empty chat with Namjoon, and Jeongguk can’t help but subtly lean his body lower to read the same texts you’re going through.

Kim Namjoon [4:26 a.m.]: Hey. Sorry for texting late, I heard from someone you threw up back at the party. I’m so sorry. I completely lost sight of you in that mess. Are you feeling any better? Very sorry again.

Kim Namjoon [4:27 a.m.]: It’s totally okay if you don’t want to hear from me again. But I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t at least try to make it up to you.

Kim Namjoon [4:27 a.m.]: I’d really like to take you out on a date. Would you let me?

Jeongguk kisses his teeth irkedly, “Why the fuck does he text like Prince William? Fucking English major,” and he truly tried his best to sound unaffected, but the words leave his mouth before he even knows he’s thinking of them.

Luckily, you don’t seem to notice, reading the message aloud like you can’t quite believe it yourself, “He said he’d like to go on a date with me. Like, he asked me on a date. And said he would like it. To go on a date—”

“Yes, we got it.”

“He doesn’t hate me, Gguk!” Once again, his petty comments go unnoticed as your face lights up, eyes crinkling with joy as you practically beam up at him.

Jeongguk wants to be annoyed, but he simply can’t when he’s met with all the stars in the universe right in your glossy, tired eyes. He swallows hard and forces a soft chuckle, “No, he doesn’t, toots. Anyone would be crazy to hate you.”

The grin on your lips only widens, nose scrunching adorably as you let your cheek sheepishly brush against your shoulder, “Oh my god, Gguk. I’m going on a date with him! Heh.”

“That’s nice,” he says, picking up the hairdryer again before your words can settle too heavily in the space between you. “I’m not finished with your hair, though. Stay still.”

The device roars to life once more, its noise filling the room and covering your excited giggles. Jeongguk keeps brushing through your hair with steady motions, his face impassive, but he feels something tighten, heavy and unyielding in his chest.

He tells himself the noise is a blessing, a shield from the silence he wouldn’t know how else to fill—or from the sound of his own voice, betraying him in ways he can’t afford.

────୨ৎ────

“I’ll miss the sex when Namjoon will ask me to be his girlfriend.”

In the quiet of the library, your sudden whisper startles Jeongguk. The chair screeches under him and it gains the both of you a few annoyed looks. He nods in apology at their way, moving closer to the table again, and he has to blink a few times before he can even meet your eyes. The scattered pens all over the white surface looked more interesting either way.

“When he— his— what?” He feels pathetic for being unable to even form a senseful sentence, but there’s no absolute way he blames his brain for that. It’s his heart, stuttering along with the barely intelligible question.

It cracks at the middle the more your grin splits your face in half, nose scrunching adorably, and he may be a horrible friend but he can’t bring himself to return your irony, nor the masked excitement under it.

If he were handed pen and paper and asked to write about how he feels right at this moment, he wouldn’t put down a single thing. Not because there isn’t anything to say. He fears your innocent teasing has done something catastrophic, snapping that one damned string that connected his brain to his heart, and the two aren’t communicating. Jeongguk is in the middle of two angered parents, fighting and on the brink of divorce. That’s what he gets for being a total pussy.

You shrug, frowning slightly when all you’re faced with is his blank expression, eyes unresponsive and detachedly looking elsewhere, but you keep yours on him, studying even the small movements, “I mean, he’s a nice guy. I think he’s serious about getting to know me.”

The word serious causes an involuntary twitch of his head, tilting almost imperceptibly to the side, and he sounds way too defensive, “And are you?”

Furrowing your eyebrows at his unexpected reaction, you return to your previous mindless doodling, keeping your voice low, “Well, he’s cute. Let’s see where this thing goes.”

“What about me?”

The question catches the both of you off guard. Your pencil halts as you glance at him through the corner of your eye, and even if you can’t see him clearly, the way his dark orbs widen is almost comical that you would laugh in any other situation. But now, the air is oddly tense and it makes your nose scrunch in awkwardness.

He breaks it with a chuckle, a subtle tremor in it that luckily goes unnoticed by you but that will probably keep him up at night for the next five years, and he lightly shoves your shoulder in an effort at feigning ease, “You really wanna pass on this dick?”

“God, you’re gross,” the annoyed roll of your eyes has Jeongguk releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding; it’s odd, but that’s just who he is.

The second you return to weightless banter, he’s back in his element. He can smirk, tease and deflect— these are tools he’s mastered over the months. But the thought of stripping naked for your eyes to see, and not in the sexual way you two engage in almost every night, terrifies him.

The waters are safe for what seems a fraction of a second before you pull him down in the deep, dark seas again, this dynamic between you foreign. While it is a simple, innocent question, your deceptive tone triggers unfamiliarity within him, “Besides, how’s it going with you and Haeun?”

“Huh? Oh. Haeun, yes,” his attempt at buying himself extra time is laughable, especially when Mr. Brain is now yelling at Ms. Heart for always wanting to get in the way of things he can handle alone, “Wonderfully. We— She— Huh, kissed me.”

Ms. Heart is furious. She has no other choice but to reach in her purse and slap the divorce papers on the dinner table, the glasses clinking against the plates, and Jeongguk flinches. Brain is speechless, clueless on how to react.

You only seem slightly taken aback, eyebrows raising in mild surprise, “Really? That’s nice.”

Jeongguk is equally clueless, subtly squeezing his eyes shut as if hoping to wake up somewhere else entirely, maybe in an ideal world where Kim Namjoon doesn’t exist and Mr. Brain and Ms. Heart are happily married.

Instead, he’s still in the library, and you’re still sitting next to him, scribbling on your English textbook. He frowns, getting pitiably lost in the view of your side profile, “Yeah, nice. Huh, when’s your date?”

When you glance up at him, you seem to be realizing just how odd it is for the two of you to spend this much time talking about your respective hook ups, and you cringe slightly at the unusual formality, wishing Jeongguk would just tease you like he usually does when you tell him about your untruthful and made up sexual adventures.

You purse your lips in thought, “Tomorrow, actually.”

“Oh. He’s going fast.”

“I like that.”

“I know you do.”

No matter the effort you put into trying to hide your amusement, a snort escapes you, and you quickly look away to recover from the childish grin spreading on your lips. You shake your head, closing the book in front of you, “You’re fucking disgusting.”

Jeongguk only smirks in an oddly proud way, nodding at your flustered state when he realizes he successfully managed yet again to shift the conversation from topics he doesn’t want to hear or talk about. He shrugs, “You just said that.”

“And I’ll say it again.”

“Whatever,” a small chuckle follows the dismissal, his hand coming to brush through his fluffy hair, getting too long for his liking, “I really wanted to see you tomorrow.”

Once again, Jeongguk is way too honest, way too easily. Ms. Heart is marching hastily with Mr. Brain walking close behind, trying to make sense of the situation and pushing her to reconsider her actions, but it’s no use: she’s tired, and sick of being walked over, again and again.

He doesn’t like the underlying meaning behind that, and wishes Mr. Brain would grow a pair and just swoon her back into love again. Jeongguk doesn’t like the genuine surprise etched across your face either, or, well, he doesn’t like the effect it has on him: it’s almost unbearable to accept that the blush dusting your cheeks, the one you’re probably unaware of, is caused by his unfiltered honesty. Because sincere bluntness isn’t exactly something he tries to show. Then, why does it spill out of him uncontrollably? Why— why do you look so beautiful like this?

“Hm,” your smile is small, but your dimple betrays it, Jeongguk’s whole resolve cracking with the way you sound dangerously decisive, “Too bad. You’re late.”

Jeongguk shouldn’t overthink this. You’re simply engaging in the usual dynamic, teasing him like always, no reason for his palms to sweat. He shouldn’t panic over the way nothing about what you said feels simple, nor usual, and your tone carries more than what you both want the words to mean.

He doesn’t know if it’s a warning or a test—or worse, the truth. Maybe he’s imagining it. Maybe Brain just misinterpreted the comment, too distracted by its constant squabble with Heart, both of them ignoring Jeongguk, who is still sitting at the cluttered kitchen table with his plate half-full, surrounded by a mess of inky emotions he doesn’t have the courage to clean up.

The sound of forks clinking against plates grates against his ears, drowning out the hurried excuses spilling from your mouth, the ones you’re babbling and making up along the way of gathering your things and standing up from the round table, shouldering your bag in the same hurry you left his room with before the next time he saw you was nose to nose with Namjoon.

You huff, giving a small, tight lipped smile that should be meaningless, but to Jeongguk it isn’t, “I’ll go now. See you around?”

“Huh, sure. Let me know how it goes with Namsun.”

You roll your eyes at the playful attempt, his grin just as empty, “Right. Bye Gguk.”

You’re off the hallway before he can add anything else. Not that he would have been able to. Your bag swings with your big steps, slim hands coming to absently tug your plaid skirt lower, and Jeongguk thinks and thinks.

He realizes he really doesn’t want to know how your little date goes. Would rather shoot himself rather than hearing you talk about another guy taking you out to dinner, stealing you from him and sealing the end to whatever the two of you have.

His options are narrowed. He either commits in front of you and forever changes the trajectory of your life or does something about Namjoon. But why does the option of ending his life sound much easier than stepping up to big, buff Namjoon, infatuated with the same girl he likes?

Oh.

The admission jolts him. It’s a physical reaction that causes his chair to shriek again under his movements, but this time he’s not polite enough to apologize for it. He must look crazy, wide eyes burning holes into his hands planted steadily on the table in front of him.

The girl he likes. You’re the girl he likes.

And every signal is there. The spark he sought for now lights a nervous feeling in his stomach, its fireworks interrupting Brain and Heart’s incessant arguing.

Does he look stupid not doing anything for the girl he likes? Not fighting for the girl he’s been falling for all this time?

────୨ৎ────

It should be easy. It is easy.

Jeongguk can’t let the sleepless night spent reciting lines to his ceiling go to waste. He’s sure not even theater kids could match his determination. And as he marches across campus toward the gym, where the squeak of sneakers and the echo of grunts will lead him to the person needed to put the plan into action, he reviews step by step what he’s told himself to do. It’s a well-rehearsed script, each word, every calculated expression—he’s gone over it a hundred times, accounting for every reaction.

Step one, be casual. Friendly, even. Approach Namjoon like there’s nothing calculated about this interaction—no ulterior motives, no scheme brewing beneath the surface. Just a casual catch-up between two guys.

“What’s up, Kim,” when Jeongguk spots the slightly taller boy exercising at a steady walking pace on the treadmill, he immediately hops onto the free one beside him.

Namjoon startles slightly, then smiles with those stupid, charming dimples of his, and it’s one that Jeongguk would probably only give if forced, “Hey, Jeongguk. Long time no see.”

The brown-haired boy nods, setting the speed and quickly catching up to Namjoon. He keeps his tone deliberately cool, even borderline disinterested, “You been good?”

On his left, your almost-boyfriend shrugs, jogging along, “Yeah, just studying, man. What about you?”

“Pretty much the same,” he hasn’t cracked open a book in weeks, and that study session from yesterday was just an excuse to be with you. But he can’t afford to let his thoughts linger on you too long or he’ll lose focus. He needs focus. “You catch that last game?”

Step two, pretend to care about what Namjoon is saying and then proceed with the acting skills only to suddenly remember something totally random he wanted to mention.

“Fuck, don’t remind me. I was so sure we would win,” the sweating man sounds way too affected by the recent football match, and Jeongguk fears if he asks one more question for the sake of pretending he’ll never get to the actual point.

So, he goes straight to it, “Yeah, it was rough. Oh, by the way. You know ___, right?”

The simple mention of your name causes a small stutter in Namjoon’s step, but he recovers with the stupid smile from earlier, only this time it’s wider, “Of course I know her. Why do you ask?”

Step three, just be honest. He just has to lay it all out. Be straightforward. Tell him the truth about how he’s felt for so long and what this whole thing with you is doing to him. It’s not a confrontation—it’s a conversation. Jeongguk will politely explain that he’s liked you for a while now, that he’s been in your life long before Namjoon, and, as a courtesy, he’d appreciate it if he would step back from pursuing you.

Civil. Calm. Totally chill. There’s absolutely nothing to get worked up over.

"You really don't know? Have no idea?" Jeongguk asks, his voice dropping, tone more pointed than he intended.

Namjoon slows his treadmill slightly, glancing over with furrowed brows and a faintly amused smile. “No, man. Enlighten me.”

“She’s my fucking girlfriend.”

What. The. Fuck.

That wasn’t the plan. Not even close to the plan.

────୨ৎ────

You feel stupid.

Wrapped around in your warmest coat, you still shiver. It could be the way your legs are exposed under your wool dress, high black boots reaching just beneath your knees. But there’s something else to the chill, making you shake in fading jitters. The excitement of the evening you told yourself you were looking forward to morphs into anxiety, and the passing looks of people mean more than they should as minutes tick and tick; they seem to glance at you for too long, their looks heavy with what you can only imagine is judgment.

A young girl swaddled in small but striking details from head to toe — delicate earrings that catch the light, a scarf knotted perfectly at the neck, polished nails clutching the strap of an expensive-looking bag, hair done up in a neat slicked bun — glancing nervously at her surroundings can only mean one thing: she’s been stood up.

Namjoon was supposed to meet you in front of the cozy cafè just outside the campus, its warm tones and surely even warmer ambience so very inviting. Maybe you’d go in, order a steaming hot chocolate for yourself, and chalk this up as a lesson learned. But instead, you chose to wait outside, shifting on your tiptoes every so often, scanning the crowd for a glimpse of the first man to ask you out in what felt like ages.

You feel as though you’ll be forever destined to wait more when thirty minutes go by and Namjoon is nowhere to be seen.

You frown, swaying on your heels. What you feel is not disappointment— not at first. But that only causes you to feel worse about yourself when you realize you’re almost relieved the tall man hasn’t shown up, and he’s not here to turn fears into even scarier realities. The date would have given a concrete meaning to your actions, and the thought stirs something not exactly pleasant within you.

The scratch at the back of your mind grows harder to ignore, and no matter how much you try to shake it off, your subconscious finds ways back to it when your hand instinctively dives into the depths of the expensive purse you had specially chosen for this occasion. A purse meant to complement your carefully selected dark ensemble— an effort that now feels entirely wasted. You spent so much time getting ready for something you’re not ready for at all.

Pulling out your phone, your thumb scrolls to Jeongguk’s number with a natural automatism, typing before you even register why he’s the first person you feel the need to tell.

You [9:39 p.m.]: hi

You [9:39 p.m.]: namjoon stood me up lol

The typing bubbles appear faster than you anticipated, and as you watch them dance across the screen, you burrow deeper into the fragile warmth of your jacket, the tip of your nose numb from the cold.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:40 p.m.]: Whattttttt????

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:40 p.m.]: He’s such an asshooooooole

Your first instinct is to snort at his reaction, a childish grin tugging at your lips, but it turns into a scowl when the more you reread the text, the more it sounds weird. He usually never texts like a six-year-old using his mom’s iPad.

You [9:40 p.m.]: yes he is

You [9:40 p.m.]: why are u textin so weird btw lol

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:41 p.m.]: Wym weirddd

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:41 p.m.]: I’m totally normal

You [9:41 p.m.]: wtv

You [9:42 p.m.]: u still wanna hang out?

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Yes please

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Want me to pick u up

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Where are u rn

The head tilt is unconscious, but you feel it click in place. You’ve mentioned how Jeongguk is caring, how he can read your needs like no one else and caters to them quietly, but he’s never this pliant, this malleable. You like him because it’s hard to get him to bend (and you’d rather die than let Jeongguk know about this).

You [9:43 p.m.]: is ok

You [9:43 p.m.]: i’ll just walk

You [9:43 p.m.]: be there in 10

The walk usually takes you less than 10 minutes, but before meeting him, you decide to head back to your dorm and change out of these stupid fancy clothes you picked out for the date.

You keep your head low as you walk through the hallways, the full glam you put on impossible to miss as it sparkles under the fluorescent lights, just as your boots' heels echo through the corridors.

Taking off the dress and heels feels like peeling away the embarrassment of rejection, the weight of disappointment settling in as you realize you couldn’t prove to yourself that you could do it, that you can do it, take the leap and let something serious into your life.

You question whether you're even cut out for it when the guy who seemed perfect ended up proving the opposite.

Now, back in more comfortable clothes — Jeongguk's black hoodie from the other day and baggy sweatpants — you feel a little more like yourself. Scared of emotions, scared of commitment, no matter how many hours of your day are spent daydreaming about it.

The second you click the door of your room open, it’s like you can smell a weird shift in the air. And you do, literally sniff, scanning your surroundings for any hint of something burning or out of place.

But it’s not about the dorm in its physical state, no— it’s the odd silence that you’re met with, the people you’re used to sharing the space with now uncharacteristically careful with their volume.

“Oh my god, ___,” that is probably why you’re visibly startled by the sudden voice coming from your side, Iseul looking like containing excitement is the hardest task she’s ever been asked to deal with, just like the few other girls behind her, all practically vibrating, “You’re finally here.”

You furrow your brows, chuckling confusedly at the unusuality of it all— well, it’s not like you don’t get along with these people. It’s just that you’ve never gone over meaningless jokes and talks about the state of the dorm, plus you’ve never exactly been the center of attention like this. It feels off, and it reflects in your uncertain tone, “I am?”

“I’m so happy for you,” Binna chimes in next, grabbing your shoulders with way more enthusiasm than the level of your relationship with her would normally allow, and the way all of their heads nod along that it feels like a coordinated performance is starting to scare you.

“You’re… happy for—”

“I’ve always known you and Jeongguk were perfect for each other,” the affection dripping from Binna’s voice sickens you, maybe even more than the words she’s speaking.

Huh?

You swear you feel your heart skip a long beat before you mask it with an obnoxious, nervous laugh, only growing more when none of them crack a smile or react, “Me and— okay, is this a fucking joke?”

“C’mon, ___,” Iseul says, her sweet voice doing nothing to calm your tension, and if anything it only heightens it, “You don’t need to hide anymore, Jeongguk told Namjoon that you’re his girlfriend.”

Oh. So this must be a fucking joke.

And you can’t stand it.

You barely manage to shake off their relentless curiosity, the entire dorm suddenly buzzing with an interest in you after years of peaceful and civil indifference, and it only overwhelms you to the brim.

Fury boils in your chest as you step out of the building, the cold air failing to cool the anger that flares up within you. With every step, your frustration grows, and you hastily type on your phone as you make your way toward the one person that’s responsible for your temper.

You [10:07 p.m.]: what the actual fuck jeongguk

The response comes so quickly, almost as if he were waiting for you to type it, and you scoff in disbelief. In that moment, you feel a twisted sense of understanding with serial killers. It makes you question how much control you actually have over yourself.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:07 p.m.]: What’s up?

You [10:07 p.m.]: why’s the whole dorm asking me how's it like to be your gf?

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:08 p.m.]: Eeehhhh???

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:08 p.m.]: That’s so weird

You’re actually gonna fuck this man up.

You [10:09 p.m.]: jeon jeongguk.

You [10:09 p.m.]: they’re saying you told namjoon i’m your girlfriend.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:09 p.m.]: Don’t use my full name and the period please 🥺

You [10:10 p.m.]: i’ll fucking kill you.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:10 p.m.]: You’re so hot when you’re like this

You [10:10 p.m.]: shut the hell up.

The banging on his door comes shortly after, and Jeongguk doesn’t even flinch. He knows it’s you, and frankly he was even expecting your arrival to be louder, hit him a little harder than it does. And when he lets you in, you storm in his space with no room for oxygen, door closing behind you but unable to contain the volume of your rage private.

“Can you explain why the whole campus thinks we’re dating? ‘Cause you’re not my boyfriend, and I’m not your girlfriend, and this is not fucking funny.”

But Jeongguk evidently does find it funny, chuckling under his hand coming to cover his mouth while the other one lifts to show you the bright screen of his cracked phone, “Really? The uni Instagram page is shipping us.”

“Shipping us?” You snatch the device from his hands, eyes widening as you scroll through the amount of stories posted in the last hour, everyone and their mother feeling entitled to weigh in on your nonexistent relationship. You whine, a hand resting at your forehead in disbelief, “Oh my god, this is ridiculous.”

“What, are you ashamed of me?” Jeongguk asks casually, walking back and sitting on the bed with a soft thud, his whole demeanor relaxed with a nonchalance that makes your left eye twitch.

You scoff, unwilling to grasp how this is even an actual thing happening to you, tossing the phone back at him, “A little bit, yeah. You think this is a fucking joke, huh? I’m now apparently dating the uni’s most popular fuckboy.”

The damned boy in front of you leans on his forearms, pouting just for show, “Hey, that’s mean. I’m no fuckboy.”

Bag thrown to the ground with a violence that it does not deserve, you start pacing back and forth in his room, letting out a borderline insane laugh, not knowing whether to scream or cry, “Yes, you are. You went through every single girl in this building.”

“Do you really think of me like that?”

The sudden sincerity that you think you spot in his tone makes you halt your steps, body turning to him as he sits straight again, his head tilting slightly.

You sigh, frustration mounting, and you throw your head back at the ceiling for any signal from the universe that this is indeed a joke, a bad, huge joke on you, “Jeongguk. Please.”

Silence fills the room next, but it doesn’t make it any easier to think nor does it quite register in your brain, mind racing with jumbled and chaotic thoughts, barely coming through as coherent words, getting intertwined with one another.

But the more you walk from one side of the room to the other, the more you’re almost able to untangle the mess, just enough to start processing what’s happening.

Then, a nuclear bomb wipes it all out, Jeongguk’s words the missile, his quiet tone the explosion, “I don’t want you to see nobody else.”

“What the fuck?”

The aftermath of the destruction is not only loud, ears ringing with a shrieking alarm going off, your figure stiff with shock, but you feel its heat burning your whole body in consuming flames that threaten to swallow you whole if you don’t let them take over, rise, flood every nerve until all you can feel is the rage boiling in your veins when you practically scream at him, ”What the hell does that even mean? You're being selfish!”

“Am I?” Jeongguk asks calm, calculated, gaze locked on yours as if daring you to challenge him further. His tone is maddeningly measured even as he pushes himself off the bed and closes the distance between you.

It’s like he’s planned this— attack after attack designed to destabilize you completely. Not only did he thrust you into the spotlight without warning, claiming you for the whole campus to see as if you’re worth nothing more than a stupid prank and a few laughs.

But now he talks with a grace that belies the chaos he’s stirred, as if his words are just another fact, something as simple as the weather, “I haven’t been seeing anybody since this summer. Since we started using no condom.”

Your pupils tremble with something far more complex than just anger, though you refuse to give it a name. He’s practically towering over you, his stance purposeful, making you feel small; as if the intensity of his gaze is not enough that it makes you falter, as if the humiliation he’s putting you through isn’t either. Head shaking, your voice does too, “That’s— not true. You’re a fucking liar. You— What about Haeun?

“Nothing even happened with her.”

The speed of his denial sets you off, an incredulous scoff breaking free as you roll your tongue against the inside of your cheek—a habit you’d picked up from witnessing his easy tempers, “Then why did you tell me you kissed?”

“Because—” Jeongguk hesitates, and the pause is so out of character that it almost gives you whiplash. The boy who always has something to say suddenly seems unsure. His hand flexes at his side, a nervous tick you hadn’t noticed before, and he exhales as if the words are fighting their way out of him, “‘Cause— I was jealous.”

“Jealous?” Your voice cracks on the word, a laugh bubbling out of you that’s sharp and fractured, borderline unhinged. It cuts through the room like broken glass, and his expression tightens, jaw clenching. But he doesn’t interrupt.

“Jealous,” you repeat, louder this time, your incredulous tone thick with rage. “You’re telling me you made up that bullshit because you were jealous?”

He doesn’t respond, and it pushes you closer to your limit, on the verge of exploding. You don’t know how you find it within you, but with a long exhale and a quick prayer up at the ceiling, you meet his gaze in an almost patronizing manner, “Jeongguk, we are not exclusive. I thought that was well implied. You don’t get to act like this. You don’t get to be jealous.”

Nodding along to your words, Jeongguk’s brows draw together, his expression somewhere between anxious and defensive. There’s something in his eyes, something close to fear, but fear of what, you can’t quite place.

When he speaks, his voice is softer than yours, as though he’s trying to keep it from breaking, “I know. We both agreed to that, yes. We’re both allowed to see other people.”

The words feel rehearsed, like he’s repeated them to himself a hundred times. But with the silence stretching, it’s clear he’s struggling to say more. His lips press together briefly, and his gaze flicks to yours, searching. It’s as though he’s waiting — no, hoping — you’ll interject, offer something to fill the space.

You don’t. You hold firm, tilting your head slightly, your confusion evident. Your wide, questioning eyes, so big, so honest, pull the truth from him in a way you don’t intend, and he exhales like it’s been forced out of him.

“But I don’t want you to.”

The sheer audacity of his words hits you like a slap, the kind that stings more because of its unexpectedness. You snort, although there’s nothing particularly amusing about your heart cracking at the middle, but you manage to keep it from resounding in your words, "That’s so fucking mean. Do you even hear yourself? You get to fuck whoever you want, and I’m kept hostage? And now—now everybody thinks we’re dating!"

"That’s good," he says, simple, unflinching.

You blink, disbelief coursing through you as your lips part in a strangled gasp. "What?" The word is half a whisper, half a shout, and it escapes before you can temper it, "You’re so selfish. I fucking hate you.”

The emotion is foreign from what you’re used to showing him, softness in quiet ways, affection in silent gestures. But now, it’s all loud rage, the opposite of love spilling out of you in volatile waves. Your hands curl into fists at your sides, itching for release, something, anything to make him feel the way you’re being forced to feel, to cut through the weight of his seemingly impassive expression showing only the barest twitch in his brows, a crack too small to satisfy your anger.

It isn’t enough. You need more.

Your palms find his chest, shoving him with the force of every burning feeling inside you. “You’re stupid,” you spit, watching him take the push without exactly budging, like he’s made of stone. It only stokes your frustration further, your hands pushing again, harder this time. “And dumb.”

Jeongguk doesn’t step back, doesn’t fight you. He stands there, his chest steady, absorbing your hits without a word. His lack of resistance only makes the storm inside you rage harder, and the tears you’ve been holding back threaten to spill over.

You scramble for more, anything to turn the reality of what you truly feel into the illusion of anger, “And— and— Why the fuck are you silent! Say something!” You aim another punch at his chest, but it’s impossibly weaker, the exhaustion showing in your useless attempts at getting at him.

You sniff, and you know you lost against his indifference, your voice wavering feeling like a confession you didn’t mean to make. “Asshole. You’re being so mean. You’re making me cry.”

That’s what finally breaks him. Only the tears slipping rapidly from your eyes get his resolve to crumble. His hands are on you instantly, gripping your shoulders gently but firmly, refusing to let you squirm away. You slap at them weakly, but his touch is steady, his fingers brushing strands of hair from your face, cupping your chin to tilt it up toward him.

“Toots, no. Hey, hey,” he whispers, his tone soft in a way that disarms you completely. His thumb swipes at a stray tear, but your face turns away, evading him like it’s your only line of defense. He doesn’t back down, “Stop crying. Hey, look at me. Will you?”

“Stop calling me that!” You finally snap, jerking your face away again. The tears are spilling faster now, no matter how much you want to fight them, no matter how much you want to cling to the fury. “I hate you. You’re fucking all the girls in this college, and I’m only fucking you, because— because—”

“God,” Jeongguk groans, exasperation dripping from his tone. You’re about to hurl another half-formed insult or maybe even take a swing at him again, aiming low, but his next words stop you cold.

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” His tone is quieter now, more deliberate, the vulnerability in it cutting sharper than anything else he’s said. “I like you. I broke the rule.”

You’re sure your heart will fail you today. It misses at least four beats, and it steals the oxygen from your lungs, along with the color from your face.

You stammer, eyes widening as your pulse picks up again and pounds in your ears. “Don’t—don’t say shit like that. I swear to God, I’ll actually fuck you up. Stop—lying to me.”

“What the fuck, ___? I’m not lying to you,” Jeongguk’s voice attempts to be steady but it can’t hide the desperation, as if he’s holding on by a thread. “Why would I?”

The question is simple.

Why would Jeongguk lie to you? Does he have a reason to fake this?

The world seems to tilt, the ground beneath you shifting in some irreparable way.

You should feel scared. You should feel repulsed at the thought of commitment, the weight of his words pressing against you like a cage. But you don’t.

Instead, your eyes dart between his, searching for cracks in his sincerity, like a frantic spectator watching a tennis match, every glance like a volley in the game of something bigger than either of you. The matchpoint sends a thrill through your chest, something overwhelming and terrifying but not unwelcome.

Jeongguk watches you closely, feeling the weight of the silence between you stretch on longer than he can handle. He knows he’s the one that should break it, knows the truth he’s holding inside has to be spoken now.

It’s now or never. He can’t keep pretending—this isn’t just some casual thing to him, and he’s not ready to let it slip away without a fight. You’ve become everything he didn’t know he needed, and yet here he is, paralyzed by the fear of rejection, of being vulnerable, of watching the one thing he wants most slip right through his fingers.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? If he doesn’t speak up now, he’ll lose everything. His fear has no place in this moment anymore.

It’s a long exhale before his voice drops in soft honey, shaking with the weight of the truth, “Look. I know it’s hard to trust me. You’ve seen me fuck up multiple times over this stuff. But I want to stop this cycle. I want to allow myself something good,” his eyes search for any signal that he should stop talking, but in yours he finds every reason for him not to, “And you’re everything good that life will ever concede me. I can't… I can't let you go. I can't lose you.”

"Jeongguk…" His name slips from your lips like a prayer you've been too afraid to speak aloud until now. But you see it— he’s ready to find every solution, even if it means confronting the fear that has held him back for so long.

“I like you so much it’s killing me,” he admits, voice low and raw, every syllable cracking with vulnerability.

It’s a slow realization, like a tide that comes in quietly, softly. You’ve felt its caress for so long, and now that it embraces you wholly, you feel your heart expand, filling with the same warmth, the same longing.

The words you wish you could say are caught in your throat. You look up at him, eyes wide, trying to comprehend, to take in what he’s offering. You’re almost afraid to ask, as if the answer will shatter something you’ve worked so hard to protect, “You like me?”

“I lose my fucking mind when it comes to you.” His confession is a rush of honesty that sweeps through you, his eyes not leaving yours, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he blinks.

The world feels like it’s slowing down. There’s so much you’ve been holding back, but you don’t know how to make the words fit, how to make them sound right.

Jeongguk takes a small step back, his voice quieter but still heavy with emotion. “It’s okay if you wanna end it here,” he murmurs, his words barely above a whisper, like he’s bracing for the worst. “At least it wasn’t because you got with some other stupid guy.”

You shake your head, the thought of losing him too painful to bear. “Stop—” You let out a frustrated sigh, hands curling into fists at your sides. “God, you’re so dumb. This could have been so much easier if you’d told me sooner.”

He looks at you, confusion flickering across his face. “What do you mean?”

You feel your chest tighten, the truth slipping out before you can stop it. “I like you too,” you admit, the words finally leaving your lips hastly, like they were just waiting for the right moment. “I agreed to the date because I thought you were still… fucking around.”

His face softens, and there’s a flash of relief in his eyes. “I wasn’t. Haven’t been in so long.”

“...No Haeun?”

“Hell no. I don’t want no kiss if it isn’t from you.”

You laugh, a low sound that fills the air between you. “Cheesy fucker,” you tease, but there’s a warmth in your chest now, a feeling you can’t ignore. “Well, if you want to know, I wasn’t seeing anybody either. Namjoon asked me out randomly, but I haven’t been with anyone else since… this started.”

His eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, everything is quiet. He looks at you like he’s just heard something he never expected to hear. “Oh,” he says softly.

“Yeah.”

Jeongguk steps closer to you, his hands reaching for you, voice thick, “I’m so sorry, baby. I never meant to make you cry. It’s breaking my heart.” His thumb brushes across your cheek, gently wiping away the remnants of the tears you hadn’t even realized had fallen. “I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head, your heart swelling with both regret and tenderness. “It’s okay,” you say softly. “I’m sorry for yelling all that stuff at you. I don’t hate you. I…”

Before you can finish, his lips crash against yours, and all the confusion, all the fears, prove themselves to be worth this moment.

They dissolve into something real, the kiss trying to make up for lost time, for all the things left unsaid.

When you pull away, your foreheads resting together, Jeongguk’s voice is quiet but determined. “Come here, baby. You’re mine.”

“Prove it.”

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teaboot · 1 day ago

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I feel like if you're using a lot of disposable plastic bags in your day to day life, you've gotta do something sustainable to make up for it. Like using bamboo toilet paper or eco friendly cat litter or something, yknow

Honestly I exaggerate for comedic effect, while I DO routinely use ziplock bags to hold spaghetti I cook maybe once a month and the bag itself is usually for freezer storage. I actually throw out maybe one bag a week? I DO hate washing plates and tupperware and junk but that usually just means I eat sandwiches without a plate.

I agree though that needless waste should be avoided, and I do avoid it- biodegradable bags and recyclables, empty butter tubs used to store leftovers, etc.

This said, though, not applicable necessarily for myself but for a lot of others- I feel that it's importat to remember that there are many people who legitimately NEED things like plastic straws, or catheters, or pre-packaged foods

And the idea that that's a moral failing that individuals need to personally make up for when a single billionaire blows out more CO2 in a long weekend than I will in my whole life on a superjet meet-cute in the Bolivian rainforest between humvee drag races funded by the river-polluting textiles plants they planted in a third world country to avoid EPA laws and give an entire village stillbirths and stomach cancer is an idea that those very same bigwigs have spent a LOT of time and money investing in planting in the public psyche.

Like- Glass bottles are infinitely recyclable, so why are so many drinks in plastic now? Loads of drinks manufacturers used to buy them back and clean them for re-use, so why did they stop? If they chose to make something out of a limited and environmentally irresponsible material, why is it my failing to track down a correct process of disposal for them? What if there are none in my area? Do I lobby for more recycling plants in my area? Do I set aside some of my limited time outside the pain factory of my job- which I have more than one of, thanks to rising costs of things just like that drink I just emptied- to properly dispose of this company's waste FOR them?

Say coca-cola just rolled up to your town and started dumping millions of empty plastic bottles in the street, going, "wow, you should really think about building and staffing a recycling depot, it would be really shameful of you to just put these in the trash." When companies purposefully use materials with limited lifespans- because yes, even plastic can only be reused so many times- and tell you it's your own fault if it harms the environment- that's essentially what they're doing, just with more steps.

Yes, its important to be as environmentally concious as we can in our day to day life, but responsible sustainability is not catholicism. We don't get good boy points from our lord and savior Captain Planet every time the average low-income household gathers together to hold hands and repent for a single-use plastic that allows them to access something they need.

Entire families could eat trees and shit dead lithium batteries for years and still not do as much damage to the planet as an average dye plant or braindead celebrity does in a week just for fun, and I'm mad about it

...this went on longer than intended.

TL/DR: DO recycle and minimize waste, but don't beat yourself up over the little waste you can't avoid, and follow the money.

EDIT: Part 2

#I swear to god if any one of you in the notes calls me terminally online or pretends I'm saying you can just dump bags in the ocean #Yes definitely do your best to live sustainably #But also #You personally are not killing pandas #Unless you are in which case please stop #We put too much money into pandas but let them go in peace #Go do some yoga #Sorry if this is a lot but I have a friend with OCD who has legit panic attacks over stuff like this #Like they have to throw out a ripped plastic grocery bag they've had for six years instead of using it to weave yard furniture or smthn #And they'd go into a spiral about killing the planet #So like #I have strong feelings now

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kngrose · 2 days ago

Text

sevika general headcanons 𝜗𝜚

WARNINGS: 18+, sexual content, mommy kink, biting, squirting, slapping, spit play, degradation, dacryphilia, ignoring safe words, implied age gap, sevika is mean

AN: i got carried away… ;] not proof read!

SFW

Initially, she wanted nothing to do with you.

Like at all.

Once she realized that her feelings for you were anything more than platonic, she wanted to throw you off the piltover bridge.

She was so incredibly frustrated with herself because, how did she let this happen?!

You’ll definitely notice she starts smoking a hell of lot more frequently and spends most—if not all—of her free time in the brothel— anywhere you’re not around.

But of course, she can only run from her feelings for so long, and she eventually caves; letting you in.

Because of her upbringing, she has quite a hard time adjusting to having a girlfriend.

If its not anger, she has a hard time expressing herself. And if she’s not angry and it’s something trivial? More often than not she’ll end up accidentally hurting your feelings with her harsh tone.

One time, when the two of you had started dating, she’d asked you, "Have you ever done this before?” and it shocked you because you didn’t know if she was implying something or—

When you’d sputtered back a flushed, “Done, what?” she rolled her eyes and retorted, "Had a girlfriend, dumbass." Her tone stern but not necessarily angry. Later, she would have to console you after you admitted she’d hurt your feelings.

She swears she doesn’t mean to— that’s just how she talks!

Not to mention her heavy handedness??? Like omg.

She’s so heavy handed.

You’ll end up with tiny bruises scattered everywhere because of how hard she’ll grab your hand or your arm.

When she places a hand on your lower back to guide you it’ll feel more like a shove.

She has this cute little habit of kicking your legs under the table—for fun or to get your attention— and she swears it’s a soft little nudge.

But when you show her the red and purple blotches afterwards, she’ll relent.

It’ll take her a while, but she learns.

She learns to be more gentle and handle you with care.

She’ll also learns how to recieve love and affection!

It was quite foreign for her, like it would be for most people in the undercity. At first it made her uncomfortable— the constant little touches, the chaste kisses to the cheek, the hugs.

You’ll notice that she’s super standoffish when you do these things. Just staring at you with this unreadable expression.

It’s not that she didn’t like it, she just wasn’t used to it, and she didn’t quite know how to feel about it.

Don’t be misconstrued though, because once she solidifies the idea that this is normal behavior, she’ll be all over you.

I headcannon that her biggest display of affection is physical touch. She just loves to touch you in any way possible.

If you’re sitting on a couch or a bench, personal space is not an option. She’s presses herself right up against you, thighs touching and all.

If you’re going for a walk, she’s holding your hand or your wrist. Sometimes she’ll even wrap her hand around the back of your neck.

If you’re sitting at a table she’s got a hand on your thigh, or wrapped around your ankle when you cross your legs.

Loves to just play with your fingers or lay her head in your lap. Please play with her hair!! She’ll grab your hands and place them on her head if you don’t, grumbling at you for not already doing your “job”.

I also think she would just love quality time, because she’s clingy! The two of you don’t even have to talk, as long as you’re there she’ll be content with just sitting in silence and enjoying your company. And if she’s not busy, you always have hers.

She wants to do everything with you, laundry, shopping, studying, napping— all of it. She would sit in the bathroom while you poop, if you’d let her.

She hates leaving you alone, and despises when you leave her side. “It’s too dangerous out here, Darlin’…” is what she says everytime, “Who’s gonna protect you?”

She’s got a long list of petnames for you. More often than not you’ll hear:

“Darlin’..” “Baby..” “Pretty girl…”

Flying from her mouth with whatever little things she says. Sometimes when she’s feeling playful, she’ll name you after whatever you have on at the moment.

For instance if you’re wearing glasses, she’ll call you glasses. If you’ve got on a button up, she’ll call you button.

She won’t ever admit it but she’ll appreciate it greatly if you have your own pet names for her aswell. They’ll make her look away in the efforts that you don’t see the giddy smirk that she swallows.

She can’t have you knowing you make her all soft.

Speaking of which.

She’s the definition of “grumpy”. Like everything she does, she has to grumble about it. Want her to grab the remote? Fine, she’ll do it, but she’s going to grumble the whole time. Grab your jacket? Ok, cool, but you’re gonna hear this grumbling monologue, something about how you, “Couldve grabbed it yourself..”

She’s definitely the type to say “No.” when you ask her to do something, and then do it anyway.

She loves to pretend that she’s stone cold but she’s actually a huge softie when it comes to her little gf! (wife)

She loves to just look at you. Would definitely make others say, “Wow, look how she’s looks at her—”

Multiple times day you’ll catch her just idly staring at you, and it makes you self conscious— starting to touch at your hair and clothes. When you question her about it she’ll just say, “What? I can’t look at my pretty girl?” and kiss the corner of your lips.

She listens to you so intently, like she’s hanging onto every word, and blinks slowly at you like a cat. If you’re venting and just want her to listen? You got it. Come take a seat on her lap and she’ll hear everything you have to say; rubbing circles on your back with one hand, and holding yours with the other, just looking up at you with the occasional, “Mhm..”

And if you wanna talk about something silly? Go right ahead! She’ll listen all the same, offering her two cents every now and then or a soft chuckle. She’ll never turn down an opportunity to hear your voice.

She loves when you ask to arm wrestle

Likes to watch you try to pull her arm down with two of yours, smiling softly at your efforts before kissing your forehead and saying, “Better luck next time, princess.”

Don’t even try with an actual wrestling match— she tosses you around so easily, it makes you embarrassed. It slips your mind sometimes, her brute strength, because you’ve gotten so used to her being soft with and around you.

But when she pounces, pinning you in all of five second— without an ounce of a struggle— let’s just say it’s always a humbling experience. “My baby’s gotta get stronger,” She’ll always say, beforing tossing you over her shoulder with a chuckle.

She loves to give you random little kisses. Some on your cheeks, a few where your neck meets your shoulder. Behind your ears, on the palm of your hands. Every last one of your knuckles. Of course your precious lips.

She loves your lips. Loves when you get all done up and pretty so she can watch you put lip gloss on; before she messes it up by kissing you so she can watch you do it again. “Oh, don’t fuss at me,” She’ll smirk from behind you, watching you redo your lipstick in the mirror. “Just wanna kiss my pretty girl…” She’s kisses your cheek. You’re better off doing your makeup when she’s not around… if she’s ever not around.

And when you tell her you love her for the first time, she smiles softly, "I love you too." Sevika says gently, "I just don't quite understand what you see in me." The crimeboss chuckles, "A big, rough, hardened criminal.. doesn't exactly seem like a popular relationship choice, darlin'." She teases, looking down at you with a crooked grin.

Her grin softens into a look of admiration as you explain that the love you have for her is beyond those things, because you knows she’s more than that. "You see into me like no one else." She admits quietly, "You see past the walls, and the mask, and even the facade." She continues, "You see all the pieces I work so hard to keep covered up." Sevika adds on, chuckling softly as she looks down at you. "You're the only one who does that, y'know?" She admits, "You're the only one I allow to see me for who I really am."

NSFW

Come, come. Let’s discuss.

There’s so many things that really get Sevika going, and with you as her pretty little girlfriend, it doesn’t take much. She won’t admit it, but in those moments where she’s just staring at you, she picturing the most ungodly scenes. It gets worse once you realize how often it is you catch her staring.

She can’t help it. She’s always riddled with flash backs of you getting slutted out. While she’s working at the brothel, playing poker, having meetings with Silco— it doesn’t matter. It’ll just randomly cross her mind and she’ll realize: she can’t wait to come home.

Sevika loves it when you call her Mommy. It makes her feel powerful. It strokes her ego. It gives her a warm fluttering feeling in her chest everytime you let it slip from your lips. Often times, she’ll like to make you repeat yourself, just so she can hear you say it over and over and over again.

She loves to bite and she loves to be bitten. It’s something so primal about it that warms up her core and makes her soak. She’ll let out deep rumbles when you bite into her arm or shoulder, never applying too much pressure. She’s told you before that you don’t have to hold back, but you always do. She doesn’t.

You see, Sevika likes to fluctuate. Not between top and bottom, but hard and soft.

Sometimes she wants to be so gentle with you. Kissing you passionately, hugging you tight, caressing you all over, giving you slow deep thrusts so she can show you how much she really loves you.

Other times she wants to be rough. She wants to toss you around, and pull your hair. Leave marks and choke you until you can’t breathe. Impose on you with her harrowing size and strength.

It’s even better when she finds the middle ground.

She’ll always ease you into everything, just to make sure you’re on the same page.

When she’s feeling particularly soft, she’s loves to service you. She’ll lay you on your back and kiss you everywhere, she likes to see how worked up it’s gets you. Pressing soft wet kisses down your neck and chest, undressing you as she does so.

And she’ll smirk as you’re left in your underwear, leaning down to press a soft kisses against your stomach. She’ll move lower, kissing your hips and your thighs before kissing your pussy through the thin fabric of your panties. "I'm gonna take these off, that okay, Baby?" She’ll ask, already knowing your answer, her fingers toying with the waistband.

And she will laugh, seeing how you eagerly nod your head, a breathless, “Yes, Mommy.” falling from your pretty lips. She’ll hum to herself lowly. God, She loves it when you call her that. And she’ll free you of your panties because, how could she resist such a sweet plea?

And once she sees how wet your pussy is, she’ll whistle, “Phew, what’s got my baby so worked up?” And run her fingers over your slit, gathering up the mess on her fingers to taste. Sevika will eat your pussy for hours. And please don’t test this theory— because you’ll regret it.

It doesn’t matter if you buck your hips away, she’ll just wrap her arms around your hips effectively locking them down, and continue to have her way. “Let Mommy eat, pretty..” She’ll chastise, and you’ll have no choice but to oblige.

And when she’s done eating your pussy, she’ll position you to sit in front of her and lean on her bare chest so she can fuck you with her fingers until you squirt all over them. She loves the access she has here. She gets to kiss all over your neck and shoulders and rub at your nipples, all the while pressing her palm against your clit while her fingers press against that spongey spot inside you.

And don’t even think about telling her you can’t take anymore, because it’ll fall on deaf ears. She’ll swallow up your pleas in a sweet kiss, telling you, “Nonsense, Baby. Mommy knows you can handle s’more..” Trust me, when she’s feeling soft, she’ll never take you beyond your means. She knows her princess.

She’ll kiss you so passionately you both never want to stop, rutting her pussy against yours precisely. You just know she’s had some practice. She likes to look deep into your eyes, holding you there by your cheeks the whole time. Pressing her forehead against yours while she whispers to you.

“My pretty baby… you feel s’good..” She’ll murmur against yours while she lips, before sucking on them sweetly. She’s so sweet when she’s soft.

But when she’s hard: She’s nasty.

Filthy and vulgar, and driven by nothing but the urge to ruin. In these times, it’s hard to get through to her. Nothing you say will get through her head unless it’s, “Yes, Mommy” or a direct response to what she’s just ordered you to do.

Keyword ordered.

She’ll have you stripped in record timing, gripping both of your wrists harshly, pinning them above your head, “These stay here, Understand?” She’ll say, her tone authoritive with no room for argument. And you’ll nod your head like a good girl for her.

When she spreads your legs, that’s where they better stay, otherwise she’ll slap your pussy, hard, and that’ll just be your first warning. She’ll grill you down with a hard stare, and you’ll know not to make that mistake again.

She’ll bring two fingers to your lips, and tap against them. "Open up for Mommy, baby." She’ll order, tone stern. And when you do, she’ll fuck your throat with those fingers, feeling you gag and watching the spit slide down your throat. And she’ll lick it all up just to spit it back in your mouth. “Good girl…” She’ll purr.

When she’s like this, she has a dark look in her eyes. It’s a primal look, and if you glance away too quickly you’ll miss it. She’s likes to fuck you hard during these times, hardly any qualms for your limits.

She’ll always have her handy strap prepared and waiting. Thick and long and heavy. She likes it that way. She likes to feel like the man.

She’ll grin, somewhat cruelly, and her eyes will meet yours in a flirtatious wink. "You like the view, pretty girl?" Sevika asks softly, her hand gently stroking the toy in her hand, like it’s a real dick, getting it all wet with lube. And how could you not? Her cut physic on full display, muscled and scared… so manly.

Sevika will take you through so many positions, you won’t have the energy to roll over in your sleep at night. She’ll take you in missionary first, “Mommy’s gonna break you in now, Baby.” She’ll growl, and she’ll keep her promise, bottoming out in one single thrust. Hard. She loves that look of pain that washes over you. She’ll wrap a hand around your throat and squeeze as she ruts into you.

She’ll fuck you like she hates you, but you know it’s all love when she’s slapping your face, and filling your mouth with her fingers.

And when she thinks that’s not enough? She’ll grip the back of your legs and push them up to your chest, effectively folding you up before drilling into you. She’s got you in a mating press.

And she’ll chuckle away at the tears that form in your eyes, your moans flying out in a mantra. She’ll grin down at you, her lips pulling back into a cocky smirk. "Yeah, good girl.." There’s a lewd slapping that fills the room. "How does that feel, sweet girl?" She’ll ask, sticking her fingers down your throat again, "Is Mommy hitting all the right spots, baby?"

And this’ll go on until she’s made you cum a few times. She likes to watch the expression on your face when you come undone, tears falling from your eyes.

But don’t think your done, no, she’s just getting started.

She’ll pull out and physically toss you over, shoving your head down with brute force and pulling your ass up. She’ll push her dick back in, slowly so you feel it. “S’good right?” She’ll ask, “Mommy filling you up?” and she’s back to drilling you like she never stopped.

She’ll lean over you, wrapping a muscular arm around your throat and putting you in a headlock. She’ll snicker evily in your ear as you cry out at the new angle, “Ohhh, Mommy’s fucking you good, huh? Right there?” She’ll tease, beating that spot in relentlessly.

If you get too loud she’ll have no choice but to squeeze that arm around your throat, snickering at the way you tap at her arm, “So pretty…” She’ll say in your ear, driving her hips into yours, “Tell Mommy how much you love her..”she’ll say, knowing you can’t respond. The drool will run down your chin and she’ll just lick it up, muttering, “Such a messy girl, huh?”

When shes feels her primal needs are satisfied, she’ll return back to that soft, loving “Sevi” that you know. Cleaning you up and giving you kissies. Rubbing all of your sore spots and telling you how much of a good girl you were.

And as you both cuddle in your shared bed, she’ll watch as you fall asleep on her chest, a small smile forming on her lips as she lets herself doze off as well. <3

please let me know if you would like to be added to my tag list to be notified every time i post, xx

#sevika #arcane #arcane headcanon #league of legends #arcane league of legends #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika smut #lesbian #wlw #arcane s2 #arcane season 2 #ao3

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allthecastlesonclouds · 11 hours ago

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Text for H.R.9495 if others want to read it ^

Readers, make sure you have all your favourite Ao3 fics downloaded.

Writers, make sure you have copies of all the fics you have posted on Ao3.

I don’t want to be alarming, but things could get really bad really fast. OTW shared this today on Twitter, and I'm a bit worried about it 😅

Ao3 is a non-profit organisation. If they have to start paying taxes, I have no idea what will happen.

#hey so i may be reading this wrong #but the addition of taxes labels the 501 groups as Terrorist Supporting Organizations #which. uh.#also the summary only touches on section one which is a suspicious as fuck thing to do wtf #but like. section one hypothetically sounds good to me; which is probably why they did it #hm. if anyone has like. the layman’s explanation of this it’d be appreciated though - i’m not too wellversed in lawspeak and just have an #inkling that this is bad #ao3 #us politics

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slytherinslut0 · 3 days ago

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SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

fuckfest. the slytherins — groupsome / drunk sex.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: malfoy manor is a great place for drinks, laughs, and…. orgys?

warnings: 18+ MDNI, SMUTTTTTT, porn with negative 100 plot, literally just sex and mentions of alcohol, group of uni students that love to consensually gangbang when they have the chance (sorry i’m cackling at that), pansy and reader kiss a few times, multiple orgasms from some of the boys, anal sex, fingering, oral.

Habits are simple, predictable things, slipping into your life without much thought. Some are reckless, some harmless. And some, well—some come with the taste of someone else's lips.

You're not sure when kissing Pansy Parkinson became one of them. What started as a drunken dare, a little more fun than you'd planned for, has now undoubtedly turned into something else—something almost close to ritual. With every night that stretches long, every round of drinks that comes too fast, it's inevitable that your lips will find hers at one point or another, like clockwork.

And a habit is just a habit, but this one—this one you never feel like breaking.

"You ever try body shots with tequila?" Pansy whispers, breath warm against your lips as her smirk hooks you, the same way it always does.

"Plenty of times." You grin back, your mouth barely brushing hers. "What, you want me to lay back for you, Parkinson? Shirt pulled down—or off?"

Theo whistles, and Pansy giggles. They've seen this before, watched it unfold in countless variations, yet it's still equally as entertaining every single time.

"Pull it down, take it off, whatever gets me there faster." She's already moving, grabbing lime and salt with hands that are too steady for how much you've all been drinking. "You know I won't complain either way."

You pour her a shot, liquid gold catching the dim light in the room. You feel the weight of every inebriated gaze on you—Draco, Blaise, Enzo, Mattheo, Theo—all of them watching, same way they always do when you and Pansy put on a show.

You blink and she’s back in front of you, lime and salt in hand. You feel bold, drunk on the moment as you hook your fingers under the hem of your shirt, leaning into her kiss only to break it as you pull the fabric over your head. The boys shift around you—more whistles—and Pansy's hands find your face, greedy and gentle all at once, barely giving you a moment to toss the shirt aside before she nudges you onto your back.

"You're so fucking hot," she purrs, slinking between you and the boys who are seated around the table, grinning. "Tilt your head, that's it—here—"

She nestles the cool shot glass between your tits while sprinkling the salt on your neck—then, the lime slice is between your teeth before you can even register it, and now you're staring straight at Blaise—his dark eyes roving over you like a feast, lips parted just enough that you can imagine the feel of them pressed against your own.

Your thighs tense, heat pooling low in your stomach.

"The boys wanted a show," Pansy whispers as she pulls off her own shirt. "They'll get one."

You hum in agreement and she works like she's done this a hundred times— shot glass disappearing between her lips, tossing the tequila back before she sets it aside— warm tongue dragging along the line of salt on your skin, moving up to suck juice from the lime between your lips. She meets your eyes for what feels like a split second before the lime is yanked free and her mouth is on yours, lips tasting like tequila and salt and something wild—

You close your eyes against the flood of sensation—the alcohol, the heat, the spinning of the room—and kiss her back with equal fervour. Her lips crush yours, sloppy and wild, a thousand impulses spinning through your mind and inevitably, you're too weak to fight them, tugging her closer as a result.

Pansy huffs, fingers curling into your hair as she crawls on top of you—straddling your hips on top of the table as one hand slips down to your chest. The boys are muttering things that you can't hear as the kiss is frantic now, teeth grazing, tongues tangled, the taste of lime and tequila lingering in each exhale.

"Gods, Pansy," you gasp into her mouth, hands sliding down her waist, digging into the fabric of her skirt. "You're insatiable."

She pulls back just enough to smirk, breathless, her dark eyes glinting. "I could say the same about you, babe."

You feel the tension in her greedy fingers as they curl against your scalp, her weight pressing you down into the table, and suddenly—all the teasing, all the playing at flirting feels too far away—you need her closer, need to take control back, need to feel her beneath you instead of towering over you—

"Pans—" your hands find her hips, gripping tight as you push against her, trying to flip her onto her back—but in your haste, you misjudge the edge of the table and before you can stop her she's tumbling forward, off the side, straight into Draco's lap. "Oh—shit—"

Everyone gasps, the room pausing for a moment and you're vaguely aware of Blaise's hands clutching your waist, pulling you steady into his lap as you teeter off the table too, the tequila making your head spin. Pansy is sprawled over Draco on the floor, skirt hitched high enough to give the rest of you a perfect view of her ass—to which everyone in the room is admiring. Shamelessly.

It's a spectacle—and the boys have always loved a fucking spectacle.

"Merlin's sake—" Draco grunts as Pansy slumps over him, straddling his waist. You catch the way his hands grip her thighs, fingers flexing like they don't quite know what to do with themselves. "Always the bloody dramatics with you two.”

"I'm not even sorry." Pansy grins, unrepentant as ever as she leans into Draco's neck, teasing like nothing's even happened, like she's perfectly content to remain there, straddling his lap. "You make a good seat."

Draco scoffs, and Theo snickers from across the table.

"You're a menace." The words from Draco's lips sound a lot like praise, and something about the way his eyes flutter shut when Pansy's tongue finds the sensitive skin at his throat makes your mouth go dry. "You're alright, though?"

"Fine," she murmurs, though her tone suggests she's thinking of anything but her well-being. "Totally fine." Her fingers brush over his chest, tracing the buttons of his shirt. "Are...are you fine?"

"I'm—" his voice catches when her fingers undo the first button. "I'm fine."

"You are," she agrees, voice a little hoarse, as she undoes the second, then the third. "Very, very fine."

Draco's face flushes, and there's a sheepish edge to his smile as his hands—almost without thought—begin to slide higher, fingers trailing under the hem of her skirt, pulling it just a little further up her hips. Her eyes flutter closed for just a second as he settles over the curve of her ass, and there's a spark, a shiver of something between them—

Your gaze flicks to Blaise, feeling his presence at your back—solid, grounding, the warmth of his chest pressed against you as you lean into him. You don't have to see him to know he's watching, though you find the confirmation anyways, his dark eyes tracing every movement, every shift between the two heated Slytherins on the floor.

When you glance back, you see the boys are all watching, too—Theo, Enzo, Mattheo—all glued to the sight, silent in their anticipation.

Pansy grinds down, and Draco's head tips back, eyes closed, hands clinging to her hips, her ass, anywhere he can find—

"They don't waste any time, do they?" Blaise murmurs, words a tickle at your pulse, the sound of his voice pulling you back into your own body, your own skin.

You shiver as his fingers trail lightly up your ribs, teasing the edge of your black lace bra—you tilt your head and you catch Theo's gaze sliding over you, flicking back and forth between Pansy's legs and the way Blaise's hands have begun their slow exploration along your sides. You grin as you meet Enzo's eyes next, his lip pulled between his teeth, fingers tracing the rim of his cup—

"You could take notes, Zabini," you murmur, the words catching in your throat as his lips graze your shoulder—so close, too close.

"Me? Take notes?" He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the spot just below your ear. "I've already got it down to a science, baby.”

"Yeah?" You hum, lost in the feel of his mouth on your skin, the way his fingers are edging dangerously close to your breasts. You can feel Mattheo's gaze, burning into you from across the table, but you don't dare look, you'd crack if you did. "You sure about that?"

"Quiz me if you'd like." As if to prove his point, he pushes past the fabric of your bra, long fingers finding a nipple, and your hips twitch of their own accord, a gasp leaving your lips. "I'll pass any test you give me."

"Cocky." There's a slight edge to your voice as you roll your hips, meeting his heat with your own—just to distract him, of course. "You're gonna' make the others jealous."

"They'll have their fun," his finger toys with the clasp of your bra, now. You feel him undo it. "I want you first."

"Oh," you gasp at the sensation of cool air against bare skin as he yanks it off your arms, exposing your tits to everyone at the table. "Cocky and greedy."

"You'd expect nothing less, baby." He practically growls.

You choke on a moan. "Blaise-"

"That's my name," he's groping, his fingers pinching your nipples just hard enough to make you squeak. "I know you're real familiar with it."

Pansy's moans, soft and breathy, fill the space as Draco works her out of her skirt, mouth moving between her thighs. You clench—seeing them—her fingers in his hair, her gasps growing louder and more frantic—your pulse quickens—

"Jealous?" Blaise's taunts, having caught you staring.

You shake your head, but—Merlin, how could you not be? You'd give just about anything to relieve the heat between your thighs. To feel the heat of all the eyes watching you right now against your skin. Mattheo, Theo, Enzo—

"Not jealous." Even you can hear how breathless you sound. "Just impatient."

"Patience is a virtue," Blaise says, all mock-virtuousness, squeezing your tits again, as if to punish you for being impatient. "One I'm happy to reward—"

Mattheo is the first to snap, shoving the half-empty bottle of alcohol aside and standing up, chair scraping across the floor. Theo considers doing the same, you can tell, eyes still glued to your half-naked body as he drains his cup in one gulp. Your eyes flick to Enzo, who's merely staring, his lip still being bitten to death between his teeth.

Merlin help you.

Mattheo strolls around the table—eyes roaming as he moves, stopping just behind where you sit on Blaise's lap, breath warm on the back of your neck as he murmurs in your ear—

"I've been patient." You think it's to Blaise. "Where's my reward."

Blaise snorts, and then Theo stands up.

"We've been patient." He's looking at Blaise, lips just starting to grin. "Real, real patient."

Enzo laughs as he rises, too—all three of them forming a loose semi-circle around you and Blaise. You can almost taste the testosterone—hot and eager and hungry—as their eyes rake over you.

Blaise tugs you closer, his hands sliding down to your hips. "I'm feeling outnumbered."

"You're outnumbered," Theo agrees, smirk growing as his fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you off Blaise's lap and to your feet. "You're also outvoted. You think we're going to just sit around and watch?"

"Not a chance in hell," Mattheo growls as he moves behind you, calloused hand running up your thigh.

Blaise grunts from where he's still seated, watching you with molten eyes, "you lot are animals, you know that?"

You almost laugh at that, considering he had your bra off in minutes.

"We're just—eager." Theo whispers, leaning in just enough to breathe against your neck, kissing a path up your jaw while Mattheo's hands work at undoing your skirt. You're so turned on you're not sure how you're not dripping down your thighs. "I wanted to be inside you three fucking hours ago."

You whimper at his words, the thick air of the room suddenly too much as Mattheo's hands push your skirt down your legs.

"Three hours is generous." Enzo's moving now, but he isn't looking at you—his eyes are locked on Pansy as Draco slams into her—the two of them locked in a trance. "My head's been filled with filth since this afternoon."

"Filth?" Blaise cocks an eyebrow. "Is that what you're calling it now?"

"Filth," Mattheo husks, and his hand comes up to wrap around your throat—lips pressed to your ear. "All I've been able to think about for the past week."

Your hips twitch at the pressure against your throat—and you moan louder than Pansy. "Gods—if one of you doesn't fuck me in the next minute—"

"Told you," Blaise chuckles, watching Mattheo's hand around your throat like a hawk. "Animal."

"Then what?" Mattheo ignores him—fingers pressing against your pulse just a little harder as he pulls you flush against him, teeth finding your ear, and you feel Theo's fingers trail down your front, teasing your slit. "What're you gonna do?"

"Fuck," you mutter, breathless, hips jerking toward the touch. "I'll die—"

"Oh, that's not good." Enzo's looking now, circling around to stand on your free side, his gaze traveling from your face, down your body, to where Theo's fingers are centimetres from pushing into your soaked cunt. "Is it our responsibility to prevent that?"

"Probably. It's only the right thing to do." Mattheo's cooes against your neck. "Can't have you dying on us, now can we?"

"Mm. Not the only," Theo murmurs, pressing his lips to yours as he pushes a finger inside you. "I can think of a dozen things to do right now."

"A dozen?" Blaise scoffs. You're starting to hate the sound of his teasing fucking tone. "Only a dozen?"

You can't even reply—any words you possess are swallowed by another moan as a second, then a third, of Theo's fingers push deep into you. Even his fingers are long, you think. You forgot just how big—

"Merlin, Theo—fuck—"

"That's the idea," he grins against your lips—you moan again when his fingers curl deep.

"You like that?" Mattheos hands are all over you—your tits, your ass, the press of his chest against your bare back—and you think that you need to see his face, need to see his eyes. "You need more?"

"Yes." You're not sure if you're speaking to Mattheo, or Theo, or Enzo or Blaise, or all of them. "Yes, please—please—"

"Oh good," Blaise muses. "She's polite."

"Of course she is," Theo groans as your cunt clenches around his digits—your slick sounds filling the space between you, mingling with the sound of skin smacking from a few feet away. "So good for us."

"Mm," Mattheo adds, teeth scraping over your shoulder, squeezing your ass to make you gasp. "Very."

"A real angel," Enzo purrs, still circling like a fucking shark, eyes flitting over to Pansy and Draco again as her moans grow louder, more insistent. "Especially when she's begging."

It's all too much—Theo's fingers pumping deep, his thumb swirling your clit, the sounds of Draco and Pansy and the feel of hands and lips and intoxicated eyes everywhere—

Your head falls back against Mattheo’s shoulder. "Oh, please—fuck—please—"

"What're you begging for, Bellissima?" Theo murmurs, drawing your eyes back to his. "Wanna use your words?"

You gasp as his fingers move faster, deeper, as if he's trying to pull the words out of your throat. "Need—"

Blaise snickers. "Yes?"

"Need to cum—" you cry out, hysterical as Mattheo pinches your nipples, groans against your neck. "Need to be—fucked—"

"And I'm the greedy one." That's Blaise again, insufferable as ever.

"We like greedy," Theo grins against your mouth, fingers crooking, and your knees buckle. "Right, boys?"

"We do," Mattheo growls.

"We like it a lot," Enzo agrees, his eyes finally meeting yours. "We love it."

"Then what're you waiting for," you gasp, unable to take much more of the heat building, twisting, every point of contact sending a new wave of need through your body. "Give it to me—"

"Give you what?" It's Blaise again—God, he's driving you fucking insane tonight. "You gotta be more specific, babygirl."

"Give—ohh—" your orgasm is right there. Right. Fucking. There. "Give me your fucking dick, Zabini—fuck—you called first—"

"Oh I did, didn't I?" Blaise still hasn't moved from his seat, but you can see the way his trousers are straining. "Guess it's my lucky day."

Theo lets loose a groan, and you can feel his hips jerking in rhythm with his fingers. "Thank Merlin for small favours."

"Lucky for all of us, really." The corner of Blaise's mouth twitches, almost with the suggestion of a smile. "Don't you think, Enzo?"

Before you can even comprehend Enzo's response, Theo curls his fingers just right, thumb rubbing your clit just right, Mattheo groping your chest and kissing your neck just fucking right—and then you're there—climax charging you, release spilling all over Theo's fingers—

"Oh, fuck—yesyesyes—"

You cry out and shudder forward, only being held up by Theo and Mattheos hands, and you're barely back on earth before you feel Blaise's fingers under your thighs—urging you back and laying you out across the table as if you're a fucking feast for him—

"Patience," Blaise grins down at you, hands finding your thighs, squeezing hard enough to drag you back to reality and realize he's got his trousers undone. "Is really such a virtue."

"Right," you mumble, still breathless as you look up at him. "Too bad I'm fresh out."

Blaise chuckles at that. "I can tell."

Fuck this—

"Blaise—if you don't fuck me right now—" you push up from the table, urging him back into the chair he was sitting in. "I will let everyone else fuck me first and make goddamn sure you watch."

There's a flicker of surprise in Blaise's eyes as he slumps back in the chair—Mattheo snorts behind you and for a second you wonder if you may have just gone too far—

"Not a chance," he smiles, his words coming out in a growl that's all heat and lust and something just a little dangerous. "We'll have none of that."

And then, he's on his feet again. But this time, when he touches you, it’s firm and fast and not at all gentle. He directs you around the table before bending you over it, and you hear someone—Theo, you think?—groan like they're in pain, the sound swallowed by a desperate moan that you know for certain is Pansy's.

Your eyes flutter when you hear it—you just don't know where to look—

"No, look up. Up." Blaise's hand is in your hair, forcing you to look up from the table, and you realize where the sound came from. "I want you to watch."

Your head's spinning in a way you're sure is not entirely from the alcohol, and it only intensifies when your eyes focus on the scene just across the room—Draco and Pansy sprawled on the couch, now, Pansy riding him while stroking Enzo's insistent dick, his glossed eyes glued to yours, watching, just watching—

Blaise's hand is still in your hair. "That's it. Watch."

Enzo smiles at you, cheeky and fucking taunting before Pansy tightens her grip while jerking him off and his head tips back—

"Gonna' be good for me," Blaise murmurs against your back—his tip pressing against your dripping entrance. "Gonna' take it all for me?"

"Yes," you gasp, catching a glimpse of Mattheo and Theo just off to the side of you, sharing a smoke. "Fuck yes—"

"That's it, baby. Just relax," he cooes, and then he's pushing into you. "Relax and enjoy it—"

There's a sting as he stretches you, and keeps stretching you until he's bottoming out far fucking deeper than you'd remembered—there's a moan from you that gets tangled between your teeth, a gasp from infront you, a moan from someone else, and—gods, if Blaise doesn't start moving—

"Blaise—oh, fuck—"

Blaise gives a low moan as your walls flutter around him, a swear under his breath that's punctuated with a hard squeeze of your hip. "Good—god—Merlin—"

He pulls out just enough to make you cry out, shameless—and it melds with Pansy's from across the room.

"Shh," Mattheo steps infront of you, blocking your view of Pansy and Draco and Enzo. "Let Blaise feel you—"

—and suddenly, Mattheo's hand is on your jaw, forcing your head back, coaxing your eyes to his. His other hand disappears, down past his belt, and you moan again—wet walls squeezing Blaise as he slowly starts to rock into you.

"I wanna' fuck your throat," Mattheo murmurs, so close you can feel his breath on your lips. "Badly."

"So needy," your words are a breathless moan, but Mattheo doesn't seem to mind—he just grins as he unbuttons his trousers. "Can't even watch for five minutes without—"

"I know, I can't," he interrupts, and his hand's back at your jaw, gripping hard. "You've got me too fucking hard."

You're about to reply with another smartass comment, but Theo saddles up next to his fellow Slytherin and before you can blink his hand is on the back of your head, tangling in your hair, angling your lips toward Mattheo's now-exposed cock—

"Don't worry about the smart mouth," Theo leans down close to you, every intention of cutting off your reply. "We have other uses for it."

You'd probably roll your eyes at the phrase if it wasn't for Mattheo's dick pushing past your teeth and hitting the back of your throat so quick you gag— eyes squeezed shut as Blaise bottoms out, again and again.

"That's one of them." he adds with a smirk, watching you choke on his best friends dick.

You can't even think. Every thought that enters your head is immediately replaced with another moan, another sensation, another need, another—

"Draco! Fuck!" You hear Pansy cry out from the couch.

"Keep going, Pans," Enzo grunts, his voice sounding choked. "Just like that."

"She taking you good, Blaise?" The question comes out in a moan of his own—you think it's Draco—and you wonder idly who's doing what over there now. "Tight as I remember?"

“Tight and wet and—fuck—" Blaise's voice has taken on a new level of strangled, desperate, need that's almost too raw to hear it, and— "she's—good. She's good."

"That's it," Draco grunts again, like he's pleased to hear it. "She's an—oh, yes, Pansy, fuck—"

The noise from the couch is too much—you're not able to think past the fullness—the desperate, overwhelming heat that's consumed you, and that's when you feel a pair of lips at your ear—

"Does it feel good?" Theo's words are barely louder than a whisper, your gagging sounds almost drowning them out. He grabs your hand, slowly bringing it to his crotch. "Having us like this?"

Your fingers are clumsy, shaky as they wrap around him and try to push his trousers down—it's hard to see past the water in your eyes but once you do you're rewarded with a gasp and a low swear under his breath that sounds so damn good you want to hear it a million times more.

"Mmmfff." You moan around Mattheo as Blaise's fingers find your clit, coaxing you towards a high you're not sure you can handle—

"That's it," Theo whispers, moving your hand just the way he likes it. His fingers are tangled with yours while his free hand finds your hair again, shoving you closer to Mattheo. "Fuck. That's it."

Everything is spinning and whirling in the best way, the best possible way, and you know you're there, so close, but it's so hard to think, so hard to do anything—when—

"You gonna' cum for us, baby?" Another pair of lips at your ear, not Theo's voice, but Blaise's—ragged with his deep thrusts. "Gonna' cum for us good and hard?"

Your response, which most likely would have been something along the lines of: "yes" or "please" or "gods yes fucking please," is completely smothered by Mattheo—his hand at the back of your head alongside Theo's, fingers tangled in your hair, cockhead slamming the back of your throat over and over and over—

"Then do it," Blaise knows your answer anyways. His fingers rub quicker, his hips piston faster. "Now."

And it's in this moment where you lose yourself completely—the world narrows down to your body, every sensation flooding through you, and the fucking sounds—Pansy's moans, Theo's groans, Blaise's pants, Mattheo's swearing, Draco's whimpers and Enzo's fucking grunting—where you can't do a goddamn thing to stop it, not that you even wanted to. You do what Blaise told you, cumming so hard you see stars behind your eyes, and for one blissful, everlasting second—you feel nothing but pure unadulterated pleasure, until it all comes rushing back with force.

You think you hear Theo say "good girl" as your body tenses—shaking, trembling, clenching around Blaise so hard his pace falters and his hips slow and his thrusts turn erratic—and then you feel it—the result of his pent up passion as he slows to to an absolute standstill—spilling his cum deep into your cunt while he shudders against you, gasping out a curse that might have been your name.

"Oh, fuck," he groans, slowly—carefully—and you feel him pull out of you just as Mattheo moans, hands tightening in your hair, spilling his own release down your throat. "Oh, sweet Merlin."

It takes a moment for reality to filter back in, and you try to catch your breath in a way that's probably not very dignified. You're not quite sure what to do with yourself—and quite frankly, you're not given the chance to figure it out as Mattheo pulls out too and Theo slips up behind you—

"Come here, Bella," he murmurs, his lips at your ear again—he sounds like he's trying to catch his breath, too. Through the fog you remember that at one point you were jerking him off—and you feel the confirmation of his need still hard against your ass as he pulls you up against him. "There we go. Easy now."

You try to speak—you're not sure what you would even say—but your voice is as shaky as the rest of you, and all that comes out is a soft moan.

"She's—" Blaise's still trying to steady his breath as he slumps into his prior chair, trousers still half undone. "—she's on mars."

"I've a feeling we all are," Theo mutters, holding you against him. His fingers skim down your stomach, almost like he's mapping out the aftershocks. "Some more than others."

You can almost feel the way his eyes flick across the room with that—noting the way Draco's splayed out on the couch next to Pansy who's now riding Enzo and jerking a still half-hard Mattheo—

"Oh, relax," Draco scoffs, eyes shut and head tipped toward the ceiling. "I'll rejoin the land of the living in a moment."

"Sure, Draco," Mattheo huffs, and you can practically hear the roll of his eyes from here. "We'll be here when you do."

"Mm—fuck, Pansy—"

Enzo's moan cuts through their bantering and it's at that moment where Theo finally decides he's waited long enough—he grabs your wrist and pulls you away from the table, directing you to the couch where he slumps down and drags you into his lap, your thighs on either side of his—throbbing, leaking cock pressing against your cum soaked cunt.

You moan, and Pansy moans beside you.

"I think," Theo murmurs into your neck, his words as thick and as needy as his hardness, "I could get used to this."

"S'that right?" You try to keep your words cool, to be as unaffected as you'd like, but—there's no hiding the way your breath hitches, the way you move your hips just the slightest in his lap. "I can't say the same about your size."

"Take me at your own pace." He husks, a smirk you're sure is attached to the words. "I'm halfway there already from that handjob."

You'd laugh at that if you weren't still so breathless and shaky from before, so instead the laugh comes out as a needy moan as you slide forward, shifting in his lap until you feel his tip brush up against your already sensitive clit—

"Gods," you breathe out the word, bracing your hands on his shoulders. "Such a gentleman."

"Always," he replies, completely sincere just before his hands grab your hips and in one quick motion—he's guiding you down onto him. "Always for you."

You'd reply—you'd probably even say something that might be sweet, if you could, if the rest of the world didn't fade into a sort of pleasurable blankness as you sink down—down until the moan that leaves you is so unbridled that it should have been embarrassing if the whole fucking lot of you weren't so far passed embarrassment—because just the head of him is so thick and you're suddenly thankful Blaise stretched you out so deliciously because otherwise you think it'd be too much, too quick and—fuck.

You're still sensitive, and you know he can tell—

"Oh, she's tight." Theo's voice is low in your ear, his lips tracing your jawline. "Too much?"

"Never," you gasp out, offering some weak shake of your head. "Never too much."

He grins against your pulse, teeth scraping across your skin—

"Good."

He punctuates the word by sinking you down a bit more, the stretch of his shaft drawing out a moan from deep in your chest—

"And when it is?"

—he pauses, tightening his grip on your hips to pull you up slightly before sliding you back down—

"Tell me."

You're only half able to form the thought at this point—the other half of you is so preoccupied with the feeling of his hands holding you, his lips against your skin, his voice in your ear—you nod, anyway, and there's another moan from somewhere in the room—Enzo again, and it's more of a whimper than anything else.

"That’s it, Pansy, so good—"

"Feels good, Enzy?" Her response comes through gasps. "You like it like that?"

Blaise answers for them both—you catch a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye, slumped back in his chair with a new drink in hand. "Keep that up and he'll never leave that couch again."

"He's not the only one." Theo's words vibrate through you, and while you're not sure if it's the meaning behind them or the way they're sent deep into your neck with a hint of teeth, either way you have to swallow a moan before you can respond.

"Is that so?" You reply, doing your goddamn best to keep your voice steady as Theo's hips roll up into you again.

"It is so," he murmurs. "You think you can handle staying on this couch all summer?"

Summer. Hardly a week away. You think of the days and nights you're going to spend in this manor, in this room—in this room on this fucking couch—

His hands slip to your ass, guiding you up and down. "You think you could last another hour?"

"Mmm," you manage to get the sound out before he rolls up again, the perfect angle to hit that sensitive spot somewhere deep inside you and that's all you have to say before all other higher level thinking goes out the window. "Oh, Theo, you’re fucking deep—"

"I know," he replies, his breath harsh against your throat, his words lost between the moans you can't seem to keep from slipping out. "I know, bella, I know—"

Cocky bastard.

You lean down, pulling his head against your chest with hands in his hair and he follows. You'd think he'd try to pull back, just to say something witty with a smirk on his face—but instead he groans, his tongue flicking over your nipple and that's when you hear Mattheo grunt from somewhere beside you—

"Fuck me." His voice comes out as a gasp that he's struggling to keep from sounding strangled. Pansy's still lazily stroking him, multitasking while riding Enzo. "I'm so fucking hard again."

If you could manage a proper response, you might have said that was the idea—you'd probably have said something very clever about how you wouldn't mind letting him down your throat again.

You can still think, but the thought is a struggle, so all you manage is a breathless—

"Matt—“

"Mmm?" Hardly a hum—and for some reason it's so much more attractive than it probably should be. "Yes, princess?"

The way you shiver at the pet name is something you're going to have to examine at some point—not now, though, because if you have to put any more thought into any single thing you're going to explode.

"You—you—"

Theo interrupts before you can finish the sentence. "Fuck her, Riddle."

If Mattheo's surprise at Theo's apparent order is evident, it's masked by the moan he lets out as Pansy does something that must have felt especially good.

"I, fuck—I already fucked her throat, Nott. If you'd finish gatekeeping her—"

"She's got another hole, Riddle," Theo replies, with that self-assured tone that's too goddamn cocky to be legal and you wonder absently if he knows what it does to you as he gives a sharp, deliberate roll of his hips. "She can handle it, can't you, bella?"

You try to moan out an answer—you're sure there's a sound there—anything to let him know that yes, you not only can but that you're not sure there's anything you'd rather do—yet the words die before you can get them out as Mattheo is already moving—rough hands finding your ass, spreading your cheeks as he leans down to press a kiss to the dimples on your lower back. The sensation catches you off guard but you don't have time to think about that before you feel something wet—his saliva, you think—slick between your cheeks and then his fingers are there, rubbing and massaging against your tight hole—

And then, he's pressing a finger into you. "Oh—"

You're not even sure if your gasp is a reaction to Theo's movement or Mattheo's—all you know is that for a moment it all just combines into a whirlwind that seems to just drown all the oxygen out of your lungs completely—

"I know," Theo's breath is as laboured and rough as yours—the rumble of his words vibrating against your chest, your collarbone. "God, I know—"

"Jesus," another moan, strangled and needy, and it's not from you or Theo or even Enzo—it's from Mattheo. "Oh, this ass is tight—"

That's not something you're going to be able to get over—hearing that coming from him. "Oh fuck, Matt—"

"Mmm?" There's a smile in his voice—and you'd see it on his face if you were facing him, if all of his focus weren't so decidedly somewhere else. "You want me to fuck this perfect ass, don’t you?"

With that he pushes another finger into you while Theo wraps his arms around your waist to hold you steady to his chest. His hips cant up into you, and you swear you're on fire—Mattheo chuckles.

The sensation is so much you’re crying out again, his teasing turning infuriating. "You're a goddamn—ah—bastard—"

"Maybe so," he replies, with a smack to one of your asscheeks. "But a bastard that's going to—"

He stretches you out, pumping and scissoring slow, just as deliberate as everything else he does—and the moan you let out is enough to drown out whatever witty, dirty words you're sure he was going to follow that with—

"Fuck—fuck," the word is all you can manage as you brace your hands against Theo's shoulders, nails digging into his skin— "oh, fuck—"

Mattheo groans against your back and you swear it's intentional because he has to know what all of this is doing to you—what it's doing to Theo by association.

"Fuck, she likes that—" Theo's gasp hits you like a punch in the gut. "I should have—"

It's like there's a whole sentence, some snarky, perfectly articulate statement he had in mind, but whatever words it was comprised of are lost in the way he shivers—in the way his hips jerk more erratically due to how tight you're squeezing him—due to the way your walls spasm as Mattheos fingers keep pumping, stretching—

"Should have what?" It's a miracle you manage the words, and you're feeling particularly proud about the way it's more of a challenge than a question, even if it's half mumbled.

Whatever it is, he can't say it, and whatever retort you had for that is interrupted by the sound of a grunt—Enzo. His face is screwed up in pleasure, his breath is coming in ragged, uneven pants and there's a look in his eyes that looks distinctly broken.

Mattheo groans and pulls his fingers free. You feel the tip of his dick replacing them. "Can’t fucking wait any longer."

Enzo's eyes meet yours, then, and they're absolutely wrecked. "I'm going to—"

Pansy grins and moans out her reply. "Yeah, you are."

There's little else you can say—not that you'd have the words even if you weren't as lost as the rest of them. You just have a flash of thought about how you've never seen Enzo look like that before, open and vulnerable and completely at the mercy of whatever bliss he's riding right now, but then there's another feral moan escaping your lips—

"Oh, Gods, Mattheo!—"

Theo groans into your neck as Mattheo presses in and it takes merely two seconds before your eyes roll back—the way he sinks into your ass is a level of fullness you weren't sure you could reach, and even that's a thought that's too complex for you to process as your head drops, forehead pressed to Theo's shoulder.

There's a hiss from his lips, another muttered curse that you half catch as he bites at your collarbone, his hands moving back to squeeze your hips—

"Fuck, yes," Mattheo's voice sounds more strained than you've ever heard it. "Jesus Christ, that feels good—"

"Don't think the saviour would like you taking his name in vain," Blaise says, from somewhere in the room. "Not in this scenario at least."

No, he wouldn't, you think, but there's no way you've got the wherewithal to speak now—any focus you had is lost now that you're impaled on not one, but two cocks and it's like your entire nervous system's been turned over to the sensation of being so fucking full, so surrounded—of not being able to do anything except try to remember how to breathe.

It's not working very well.

"Mm," Theo's moans, fucking up into you nice and slow. "I think he'd understand."

"I think that's a rather blasphemous stance to take," Blaise replies. "Then again, given the scenario, perhaps that's not the most shocking revelation I've had of you all today."

"Blaise," Enzo groans, his tone somewhere between pleading and demanding. "Are you really going to try and have a conversation right now?"

"Just making an observation," Blaise says casually, and you swear that part of your brain that still functions can see the smirk plastered on his face in your mind. "Merely commenting about the depravity on display."

"Your commentary is duly noted," Mattheo breathes, his words punctuated by a low moan as he smacks your ass. "And dismissed."

There's a grumble of agreement through the room at that, including one from you, but all your words come out as a gasp—

Theo loves you like this. You can tell he's fucking savouring it. "That's it, bella. You don't need to do more than that."

Part of you wants to protest the statement, wants to argue that you have it in you to contribute more, but no matter how hard you try—and you do try—all that comes out around the moans is an inarticulate mess.

"Yeah, that's it," Mattheo groans, and you'd be embarrassed about how utterly ruined by all of this you are if you could focus on anything other than the two dicks pumping you in rhythm. "Just let me and Nott take care of your—mmf—tight fuckin' holes."

There's a whine that worms its way out of your chest and through your lips at that, and you don't know what it's begging for—just that it's begging, and all your mind cares about right now is that Theo and Mattheo understand that.

Theo's response is a moan of his own and a hand finding the back of your neck, his fingers wrapping around your hair. "So fucking wet—tight—"

"And taking us so goddamn well," Mattheo adds as one of his hands grab your ass again, spreading you open. "Fucking hell—I'm so close—"

"So are we," Theo responds for you, and the words are harsh and desperate and make your whole body shudder. "So—ah—so are we—"

The realization that he can feel how close you are makes you clench—walls fluttering around the both of them as they fuck you tempered—it’s only a few more seconds before you're seeing stars so bright you hardly register the sounds of Enzo and Pansy reaching their climaxes next to you—the feeling of Pansy crashing her lips to yours as she cums and moans into your mouth propelling you further over the edge, into your own ecstasy—

And if there were a way to describe it, you're sure you'd think of it later, but right now it's all just fire and lightning—pleasure wracking your body until you're certain you're not going to come down for hours. You can't really hear anything—just the rushing of your own blood pulsing in your ears—but as it starts to subside, your vision returns and the sound follows—your lips still pressed to Pansy's as Theo moans underneath you, spilling his release into your cunt while Mattheo is still thrusting slow—

"Oh my god," you gasp as you break the kiss, all of you breathing so hard you're sure it's going to take a while for the oxygen levels in the room to return to normal. "Oh my god, oh my god—"

"Mmm," is about all Theo seems to be capable of currently.

It’s a rare thing for him to be rendered speechless—and you'd grin at the knowledge if it weren't for Mattheo still thrusting deep in your ass—leaving Theo trapped inside your cunt, his length still twitching and throbbing within your walls.

"Still with us, princess?" Mattheo's chuckle is somewhat strangled, and the hand he's not gripping your ass with finds your hair again, tugging your head back to expose your neck. "You aren't done already, are you?"

If he expects—or even wants—an actual answer to that question, he's going to be very disappointed because all you can manage is a strangled half-moan that's a decent representation to how you're feeling right now—

"I think she's lost her words," Mattheo murmurs—and then it's like he realizes something. "Maybe we should test that."

"Wha—"

It's not a proper word, but you don't even have the chance to fully get it out before his hand in your hair is pulling your head back even further and you realize that at some point Pansy had gotten off of Enzo and he's now kneeling on the couch in front of you with his cum covered cock aimed directly at your lips—

"Clean me off."

It's another demand you'd probably be inclined to respond to with a snarky reply if you were at all confident in your ability to do anything other than open your mouth and let him press the tip to your tongue—

"Good girl," Enzo says, and the praise is delivered with that voice that sounds like it came from some dark place inside him, the one that's only ever really appeared in the privacy of these walls and with this group of people. "Taste your bestfriend on me, hm? You like that?"

It's a question you'd probably deny a few months ago, but that's not the case anymore—and you know that the answer would be obvious regardless, given how you've just proven you're more than happy to share them with her. So instead you give an answer that's a better representation of how you feel without having to admit it, and it only comes out as a hum of agreement as you taste her.

"I know you do," Enzo replies, and he's got that same smirk he usually has when he's got the upper hand, the one that usually makes you feel at least mildly put out—now it just makes you shiver. "Little slut."

Theo, who's still trapped underneath you and still half hard inside you, moans at that.

"Mmmm-" yes, you want to say, but you can't and the noise you manage instead, around the taste of your bestfriend on your tongue, comes out more like a whimper that has absolutely no business doing as much to you as it does.

Mattheo growls with a deep thrust into your ass, and the whimper turns into a whine as Pansy moves closer to you.

"You look pretty," she murmurs, her mouth pressed against your hair as Enzo pushes his dick deeper down your throat. "You look so fucking pretty right now."

There's something about that, the way her voice caresses the words, that makes something warm rush through you, wrapping around the bliss and squeezing until you're almost overwhelmed again.

Your eyes water, as you gag. "Mmgh—"

"Mhmm," her lips move down your cheek, next to your mouth where Enzo is still slowly fucking it, and it's like the action is deliberate—a way to show, without saying it outright, just how wrecked you are. "And you say I'm insatiable."

That's fair, because right now you're fairly certain you've never wanted something to continue forever quite as much as you do this, regardless of the fact that you know it's not practical.

"Ah, fuck—" Mattheo grunts with a messy thrust. “Oh, fuck—"

He's not the most loquacious person in the world but even he is having a hard time getting words out—and you're not much better, with the only sounds you're capable of making completely indecipherable even for you, let alone the rest of the room.

"Fuck—" with a final curse, he spills his release deep into your ass and Theo groans from under you as you clench as a result. "—yes."

The feeling of him twitching and spilling inside you makes you moan around Enzo, and he groans too—one hand tangled in your hair and the other tangled in Pansy's to keep her close—

"Mm, yes," Enzo moans now, jerking his hips toward your face. "Feels good—so good—“

—and close is an apt word because they're all close to you, all surrounding you—even Blaise and Draco's exhausted presence are felt in the background.

"I'm pretty sure she's gonna be sore for days after this," Pansy says, the words whispered. "I hope you all know—"

"I think she'll be thanking us for that," Theo replies before anyone else can. "In a day or two at least."

Pansy giggles, a sound that's soft and familiar and comforting even in this current state of being surrounded and overwhelmed, and her cheek brushes up against yours as the two of you peer up at Enzo—

"You're probably right." She whispers.

Enzo grunts, pulling his cock from your mouth and offering it to Pansy who greedily takes it in her own—

"Selfless generosity," Theo murmurs from directly under your chin having just witnessed that, and his tone suggests he's got his signature smirk in place. "How noble of us."

"Very selfless," Blaise says, from somewhere in the room again—and even as you're lost in pleasure you know that statement borders on sarcastic. "Absolutely nothing in it for any of you."

"Nothing at all," Theo replies, the same amount of sarcasm in his voice as Blaise's. "It's all self-sacrifice."

"Mm," Mattheo murmurs against your shoulder, before he pushes himself off you and finally pulls out. "Not even a shred of personal satisfaction."

You're still collapsed on top of Theo, as boneless as a human being can be, and a quiet whine escapes your lips at the loss before you can stop it.

"See," Theo murmurs, a hand coming up to run through your hair. "We've practically made a martyr of ourselves here. Selflessness at its finest."

"So humble," Blaise says, and you swear you hear the eyeroll that's almost certainly included. "I think this calls for medals and a parade through the streets. A holiday, maybe. Selfless Slytherin Day."

Enzo huffs—you can tell he's considering telling Blaise to shut up before he ruins his orgasm but as Pansy drags her tongue along the underside of his shaft, he seems to forget about it—

"Absolutely," Mattheo says—and if you had the strength to lift your head and look at him there'd likely be a smug smirk on his face. "I'd volunteer to be parade marshall, personally."

Enzo pulls out of Pansy's mouth with a gasp—and it's all but two seconds before he sprays sticky jets of cum all over your face and hers, his head tipping back as he does—

"I'm sure you would," Blaise says dryly, his voice coming from closer now than before. "I'm sure you would also volunteer to accept the medal, and then offer a speech about how humble you are."

"Mhm,” Mattheo sounds unbothered. You know he is. "Obviously. Someone's got to make sure the truth is told."

Pansy giggles against your face, then, before her tongue drags across your cheek, collecting some of Enzo's release. "Well, it's no good if you all are going to keep doing a poor job at the selflessness part.”

"I think we're well past the point of pretending we're doing this selflessly," Theo mutters dryly as he presses a kiss to your shoulder. "If we were capable of that level of pretending, we'd all be in Ravenclaw."

Your hands find Pansy's hair, holding her close to you as you lick Enzo's cum off her chin and jaw.

"You're welcome to switch houses if you'd like," Blaise responds dryly. "Some of us were sorted to our houses for reasons other than self-satisfaction—"

"Oh, shove it, Zabini," Enzo says as his breath comes back. "You're acting like a bloody dad."

Blaise opens his mouth, presumably to offer some kind of sharp retort, but before they have a chance, Pansy cuts in. "If you're all quite finished with the pissing contest—“

"We've been done for minutes," Theo replies quickly, hand now stroking through your hair. "Now we're just bickering for the sake of it, as usual."

"Which means we've got at least another half an hour to go," Blaise mutters—before apparently giving up all attempt at sounding cool and collected and flopping down on the nearest open section of sofa.

"At least," Mattheo agrees. "Maybe an hour, if we're lucky."

Next to you, Enzo grunts out a laugh as he starts trying to fix himself back to modesty. "Lucky is one word for it—"

"I think lucky is an excellent term for the current state of things," Theo replies, his voice all smooth and silky and perfectly at fucking ease. "In fact, I'd be hard pressed to think of anything more lucky than getting to experience this."

Everyone is in agreement, at that.

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wonryllis · 3 days ago

Text

WHEN THEY GET CAUGHT KISSING YOU.

﹙ ⌕ ﹚ 𝓅𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗌 ㅤ𝑜𝑓. enhypen kissing their situationship and boom! caught. contains fem!r, kissing & kissing, embarrassed & bold enha, suggestive pg 16. wc 3090 ㅠㅠ, 420 something each. check out the d𝒾rectory? stat agora hills inspo.

𝖪𝖨𝖲𝖲𝖨𝖭𝖦 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖧𝖮𝖯𝖤 𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖸 𝖢𝖠𝖴𝖦𝖧𝖳 𝖴𝖲──────𝑎𝑙𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

𝖫𝖤𝖤 𝖧𝖤𝖤𝖲𝖤𝖴𝖭𝖦

“they won't find us i promise,” heeseung tries to reassure you, taking a step forward and closing the already negligible space between the two of you. the light from the vents at the top shinning right into his eyes and onto your lips. janitor's closet― your gaze boring into his brown orbs; his falling onto your gloss glimmering against the dark― a kiss that steals your breath.

his arms pull you close by the curve of your waist, gripping the flesh as the kiss grows intense, heavy breaths and sloppy tongues.

“why are we even hiding?” you pant out between the kisses, holding him close and as hooked onto the whole idea of a secret thing. this was lee heeseung. no, this is him. secret flings and hookups, no strings attached & no efforts to make it work. at least that's what you knew of him.

he pulls away from the kiss for a moment, looking straight into your eyes,“i thought you liked it? the whole ‘keeping it a secret’, the thrill of trying not to get caught?” but here he is, doing things you supposedly like, putting in effort.

“isn't this how you are?” casual, clandestine and off the record defined him in your world. “no god, not with you,” his voice is rasp with defence, words tumbling out in a brisk edge. he is not what you think he is. and to him you are so much more than you ever could imagine to be. his lips brush against yours,”i could never be that with you. i want you so much, you have no idea.” and he goes in for another kiss, this time more intimate and deep.

“i swear i saw him go in here!” sunoo's voice echoes outside in the corridor, “what would he even be doing in there?” and before you both can even register the situation, too lost in the kiss, jay hurtles the door open.

you immediately push heeseung away, his steps languid as he staggers back slightly. annoyed and frustrated at his friends for ruining the moment.

jay stands still by the door, holding it open while sunoo comes over to see what's going on. catching sight of the disheveled appearances and gasping breaths, smudged gloss and flushed faces― and a very bummed out heeseung running his fingers through his hair, throwing glare after glare.

“y'all were..” the two intruders trail off in shock. which only intensifies after heeseung slams the door shut in their faces,”busy.” and gets busy with you again.

𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖪 𝖩𝖮𝖭𝖦𝖲𝖤𝖮𝖭𝖦

“are you sure the windows are tinted?” your question throws jay off for a second, of course it's valid to be worried about that. but you are literally in an empty parking lot, only about to kiss, not commit a crime or violate the laws of human decency. it'll just be a kiss, right?

“i’m sure, now come here,” his fingers wrap around your wrist, urging you to get onto his lap in the driver's seat. sighing in contentment once he feels you settle down comfortably. hands immediately reaching up to your waist in a delicate embrace. “don’t worry so much,” his voice is soft and calm, a high contrast to his heart skipping lanes in his chest.

“just think about me, focus on me,” words barely above a whisper before he kisses you.

his lips are chapped yet when they move against your own, they feel soft; a hint of champagne and waft of honey, floral notes and fruity taste of his drink from earlier at the after party. your hands slide around the back of his neck, tugging at the strands of his hair. faint sighs and low gasps fill the air, the tight space feeling sultry, growing fervid by the second.

it's dream-like, way too good and like floating in the clouds but the loud ringing of jay's phone snaps you both out of it.

riki is calling, the screen shows. he should probably pick it up. he should. yet you both collectively decide he can wait. everyone and everything besides the kiss can wait.

and that turns out to be a mistake. for not even five seconds into the second kiss, there's a thud against the window, riki’s face planted on the glass as he tries to look in,”he's in here jake!” he shouts in a quick look over behind him.

it startles you both, flinching out of the kiss. “jay you sai―” at your instant panic, jay is quick to shush you back into another kiss,”i know, i know. it really is tinted don't worry. they're just bluffing,” he reassures you, his mouth closing in on your top lip in a gentle suck.

“they're literally eating each other's face off! i told y'all they're probably together!” riki’s voice echoes into the parking lot, followed by jake's loud ass laugh. making both you and jay choke mid-kiss as you hop back into your seat and jay rushes out the car to keep their mouths shut.

“haven't y'all heard of privacy!” he scolds, his face hot red with embarrassment, words rolling off in a splutter.

𝖲𝖨𝖬 𝖩𝖠𝖤𝖸𝖴𝖭

“jake anyone could walk in!” you slap his chest in a protest, leaning away as he tries to pull you into a kiss again and again. ‘just a kiss’ he insists, but with you straddling his lap, his thighs spread apart and your legs on either side of him― it's impossible. this is jake sim we are talking about; and this guy, from what you have come to know, will turn anything into a makeout session.

“it's my room, they won't just barge in. trust me,” he tucks away the strands of hair falling into your face, his eyes and his voice dripping with desperation; hands moving to trail all over you in attempts to persuade you.

and it works, it takes you just one moment of recollection: the last time you made out with him, same place, same way. and you give in. how could you even resist a guy like this? if you could have, you wouldn't have been in a freaking situationship with him out of all things in the world of romance.

your lips clash against each other, like you haven't kissed in ages. mouths literally devouring and sucking the life out of the heart and the breath out of the lungs. no words exchanged, only muffled sounds and soft gasps.

“fuck your lips are so soft,” jake mumbles between the kiss,”so kissable” unable to hold his thoughts to himself. so drunk, so gone; he doesn't notice heeseung walking in on you both.

not for a few seconds at least, only bothering to cast him a glance over your shoulder before closing his eyes again. leaving heeseung with his jaw slacked, dumbfounded and stunned all at the same time. he takes it as a cue to leave and let the others know not to disturb you both. the last thing he catches glimpse of being your wide eyes realizing he had come in.

“you said no one would walk in!” you immediately complain at the sound of the door creaking close behind heeseung.

“well,” jake sits slack against the headboard, not concerned in the slightest. the amount of care jake could give in a situation like this might as well be equivalent to a speck of dust in the oh mighty universe. but he loved the way your face flushed warm at having been caught.

“it's not like we were trying to hide this. i’m pretty sure everyone already knows how things are between us,” he shrugs, holding you close; eyes locked with yours in a sultry yet genuine gaze,“and how much more things could be.”

𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖪 𝖲𝖴𝖭𝖦𝖧𝖮𝖮𝖭

“never took you for this type,” sunghoon grins against your lips, breath hitting your cheeks warm and uneven. enjoying the way you seem to whine about not letting you kiss him; park sunghoon is a lot of things, but tease? tease is one that gives him life. it's not him, if he doesn't tease the fuck out of you before draining your life force with a kiss that's borderline psychotic.

and right now, with you perched atop the bathroom counter of jungwon's unit with the others right in the other room― sunghoon is exactly in the mood to get the situation heated. or to be more precise, to get caught.

“you were the one who kept teasing me in front of the others! i thought you wanted to― well, isn't this what you wanted too?” you grab his collar to keep him from leaning away, grazing your lips over his to tempt him. he isn't your man yet, but you absolutely know how to have him give in.

“i do, i want it.” his hands roam across the expanse of your back, dropping down to your thighs and tugging you forward. head tilting and leaning in to capture you in a kiss. park sunghoon is a tease, definitely; but he's also whipped.

so much so, he can't resist you even with all his self control working paid overtime.

it doesn't take long for the others to notice your absence, jungwon in particular running around to find you two for dinner. looking everywhere until he hears the shuffling inside the bathroom. he knocks once. twice. and when there's no response he turns the knob finding the door unlocked (that was sunghoon!!!).

“oh my god,” jungwon's exasperates, mood turning sour with embarrassment. your eyes shoot open at his voice, instantly trying to push sunghoon away but damn this guy keeps coming back each time and pulling you into the kiss again.

his ears burning red and the veins in his neck popping out yet he still wouldn't stop. he just can't, he physical can't.

“right in my bathroom? really? and you still going?” the screws in jungwon's brain rust out at he watches the scene unfold. “so sorry, jungwon,” you manage to mumble out, hitting against sunghoon’s chest in a warning.

it only makes him trail the kisses down your jaw and along the curve of your neck, burying his face into the crook in an attempt to keep smooching you in any way he can.

“he's really sorry i swear!” you yell out between the kisses, right before jungwon closes the door.

𝖪𝖨𝖬 𝖲𝖤𝖮𝖭𝖶𝖮𝖮

“sunoo,” you mumble in a soft whine, eyes trained on him while he works out. jealous of the dumbbells in his hand, seemingly stealing his attention off of you. his hum of response is affectionate, staring back at you in a ‘what is it?’ look.

“sunoo,” you whine again, louder this time. unable to just watch him when all you wanted was to kiss the life out of his lips. he stops mid-set, placing the weights back in their spot and walks over to where you sit at his desk. just sit and look pretty for me; god you'd do that so well.

he leans over you, hands resting on either side of the chair,”what is it that you want baby?” oh how much you loved this side of him. the side of him that made you believe this was more than it was.

your arms reach out to hook around his neck, pulling yourself up and pushing him against the edge of the desk in a desperate effort to kiss. lips pressing into his in a brief peck at first,”wanna kiss you.”

“jungwon and jake are right outside,” he warns, though not attempting to stop you at all. not even thinking of it. sitting against the edge, letting you pepper as many kisses as you want. “don't you want to kiss me?” you mutter out between the little smooches, twisting sunoo's heart with the tone of disappointment lacing your words and the loss of your touch following it.

“of course i want to baby. i always do,” his voice is low and full of yearning, the burning itch, the craze to be close again. as close as possible. his lips hovering over yours as he pulls you back against him, straight into a kiss. eyes half closed staring down at each other's mouth, parted and quite literally nibbling and sucking, far from gentle or friendly― at all in that sense.

the scent of your shampoo and the taste of your familiar lipbalm is dizzying, and sunoo wonders how he ever managed to just be a friend at one point―

“can't believe i thought you were just friends,” jake barges in, in a hurry, stopping in his tracks at the sight of you both. making sunoo pull away immediately, breathless and sweaty as he responds as casually as he can,”did you need something?” as if he wasn't just about to shove his tongue down your throat.

“um.. yeah―” you yank sunoo back, planting sloppy kisses on his lips and jake’s words die down in a feeble whisper,”i forgot..”

“baby― i mean y/n, wait―” if sunoo wasn't embarrassed enough earlier, he definitely was beyond humanely possible right now, trying to keep you off of him while jake watched and ultimately left with a shake of his head.

𝖸𝖠𝖭𝖦 𝖩𝖴𝖭𝖦𝖶𝖮𝖭

the silence in the air feels thick, stuffed full of tension. and it seems to get hotter by each passing second. your argument with jungwon hanging aloof within a myriad of questions unanswered; what are we? are we even supposed to argue like this? are we supposed to feel like this? jealous, possessive and clinging on to the ache that came along with this undefined relationship.

“i know i said i didn't want anything serious,” jungwon's voice pierces through the soft running of the tapwater behind you, shaky and choked with desire.

“but i get this rush, whenever i’m with you. it's― it's like this high i keep chasing,” he breaths out, taking slow steps towards you. cornering your figure against the kitchen counter, his head hanging low over your shoulder.

lust: one of the seven deadly sins. desire: fickle, and love: hoax and ever changing. he knew it all, so he had always made sure to just have his share of fun and leave it all behind but it was strange how badly you made him want so much more. things he never thought he would ever want. in a way that he was aware would probably destroy him.

“and i know it's not healthy, i know. but i just can't stop―” he lifts his head in the slightest, tilting it towards your lips, grazing and brushing against your own as if he wanted to stretch the moment out,”really can't stop myself,” a longing whisper trickling out his pandora’s box. a yearn for you, so deep he utterly and irrevocably can not defy.

the kiss that follows, starts off soft and gentle like a declaration of love. slowly weaving into one of hunger and craving, impulsive with the need to covet everything down to your core. to start where you end and end where you start. yang jungwon felt absolute badshit crazy.

this wasn't what he had in mind when he proposed the idea to sleep around a few times.

his lips move atop yours in a frenzy, hands grabbing anywhere and everywhere to keep you close. tongue brushing against your parted lips in a tease,”tell me you want me like that too,” he begs into your mouth.

“the water's runn―” clank. before you can answer him, breathless and glazed with need alike, sunoo’s loud ass voice breaks through the moment, followed by his plate of chocolate mousse crashing into the marble tiles.

“i did not see anything! i absolutely did not see y'all about to get it on right in the middle of the kitchen!” sunoo disappears out immediately. leaving you and jungwon panting and flushed with embarassment. your fogged up brains clearing up after the sudden interruption.

“i― your lips are swollen― um, do you want some mousse?” jungwon stammers, retreating away from you.

𝖭𝖨𝖲𝖧𝖨𝖬𝖴𝖱𝖠 𝖱𝖨𝖪𝖨

“you're crazy,” you whisper out, glancing around at the empty hallway. feeling the heat emanating off of riki's body as he stands dangerously close to you.

“you're the crazy one,” his chuckle echoes off the walls sending you into a hoard of panic. your hands slapping against his chest to push him away as quick as you can.

hatred, rivalry, and contempt had shaped the idea of your relationship with him for years. so much hostility and so much of ignorance. riki and you were like yin and yang, total opposites and unable to see one ground. ever. but things changed over a shared summer internship and you were not yet ready to accept or admit it. not to yourself or others. god forbid the others found out you didn't puke at the sight of riki.

and being possibly caught kissing him? over your dead body.

“just close your eyes,” riki takes off his beanie and puts it on your head, briskly pulling it down: over your eyes. and before you can utter a word of objection, he is cupping your face and squishing your cheeks― lips meeting your puckered ones in a messy kiss.

you melt into it immediately, ears tuning out and body relaxing. albeit the beating of your hearts seemed to sync over, loud and hard. hands trembling in the slightest, breath speeding up and skin growing warm. it felt like a rippling wave of cold water on a hot shore, the worry of being caught suddenly striking as something insignificant.

“i thought y'all hated each other's guts?” sunghoon’s sudden intrusion whacks the gears in your system. the two of you pulling away like, like poles repeling each other.

“we do!” “we don't!” you and riki call out at the same time, confusing the heck out of sunghoon. “okay.. so y'all are in kissing stage right now, that's cute.” he laughs regardless of the variance between your answers. giving you both a suggestive look before he leaves.

you push up the beanie, peeking from underneath, “you jerk! you did this on purpose didn't you! you wanted to be caught! i can't believe i fell fo―” but riki is not bothering with this now, not when he got what he wanted; a free pass to kiss you from now cause everyone would know of it probably by the end of the day.

“just shut up and kiss me,” he pulls the beanie back over your eyes and lunges forward, diving right into another kiss without wasting any more time. oh you felt like he shot you dead. with the cupid's arrow of course.

taglist 。open! @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @eeunoia @nxzz-skz @shawnyle @potato0579 @enhastolemyheart @ro-diaries @aaa-sia @enhabooks @criminalyun @oddracha @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @jayjw16enxp

#enhypen imagines #enhypen reactions #HOT MOMENT WITH SITUATIONSHIP ENHA O⁠_⁠o #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #enhypen heeseung imagines #enhypen jay imagines #enhypen jake imagines #enhypen sunghoon imagines #enhypen sunoo imagines #enhypen jungwon imagines #enhypen niki imagines #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fic #enhypen ff #enha imagines #enha reactions #enhypen headcanons

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remxedmoon · 3 days ago

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You should tell us about color psychology that sounds cool as hell

YES… HA HA HA… YES!

GGGOD I WISH I WASN’T OUT OF THE HOUSE RIGHT NOW. but i’ve been thinking about colors literally all day so you all get to be subject to my madness! sorry this is long and rambly wauaua. nightmarishly long post under the cut.

okay. first things first, a few basics. color theory and color psychology tend to get confused a lot in discussions, but they usually refer to different things. color theory is more about we physically perceive colors (color wheels and color schemes the like), while color psychology focuses on our emotional response to colors. if you’re familiar with the children’s hospital color theory post, that poster wasn’t actually talking about color theory, but color psychology (and also it’s incredibly surface level and heavily misunderstands the subject because in what fucking universe does the quantity of positive associations with a color matter more than the context it’s used in and sorry i have personal beef with this tumblr post).

color theory is also a special interest of mine but i’m not gonna touch on it too much here because it’s not entirely important. mmmaybe another time…

essentially, certain colors (and color combinations) have associations in our brains and that affect our behavior and emotions. these associations are also very much affected by the context a color is used in. colors don’t exist in a vacuum! so while red can symbolize passion and love when used in something like a dress or a bouquet of flowers, it has a very different connotation when it’s, say, splattered on the walls or smeared on the ground in a snail trail.

or for a less Children’s Hospital Themed example, i’ll put my euphrasie and king designs here!

(of course the saturation and brightness of these blues play a massive part in how they’re perceived but this is not a post about color theory this is n)

and, of course, combining colors in a piece can also change their meanings!! i’m about to get real fucking normal.

i’m gonna be focusing on the color combo of red and yellow here because it’s the one that’s most relevant to my art (and also it’s really interesting.) basically, seeing these two colors together activates the part of our brain that controls our appetite, making us actually feel hungry. this is why so many food companies use red and yellow in their branding! it’s neat stuff!!

also, if you’re familiar with it, this is why the mv for butcher vanity uses this color palette!! along with red’s general associations with danger and blood, the color combo also physically induces hunger. pretty fitting for a song about cannibalism!

(there is also red’s association with lust and passion and how that intersects with the double meaning in the lyrics but i cannot derail this post into being an analysis of butcher vanity i’m sorry. we’d be here all week. maybe another day... wipes a tear from my eye)

and i think this might be the reason why some people feel hungry when they see my art, even when i’m not drawing food. while i don’t tend to use red outright, most of my art has very warm undertones (red-oranges and yellows especially), which could be activating that hunger response??

(ah fuck color theory managed to weasel its way into this post again)

admittedly this part is just speculation on my end. i think my rendering style and Shapes also play a role in it, but it’s interesting for me to think about!!

this is only scratching the surface of how complicated colors can get. i was going to go on an entire tangent about color grading and how green lighting can make a scene feel unnerving but this post is already Too Fucking Long. aaaa super sorry if this is Rambly or hard to understand!! i’m not Entirely sure how much the average person knows about color theory and psychology so if there’s any confusing terms here i’m fine with adding stuff for clarity!

wauauuaa thank you so much for asking!!!! i love talking about colors.

tl;dr colors have a bunch of different emotions and meanings tied to them, but you’ve gotta pay attention to the context in which it’s being used. so maybe take a step back before you put that thick red trail on the floor of your children’s hospital.

#marshtalkin #<- and by god did i TALK.#hhholy fuck how long is this. im so sorry i thought this was gonna be WAY shorter #admittedly i only realized colors were a special interest. fairly recently?#i genuinely didn’t consider that most artists probably don’t spend hours pacing around thinking about color symbolism #<- god don’t even get me started on color symbolism in my designs i’m so fucking normal #…do i even tag this as isat?? i mean i know i have to tag spoilers anyways #because of euphrasie #but this is mostly a post about color psychology even if i’m using my isat art as examples #aaaa whatever #isat #in stars and time #isat spoilers #color theory #color psychology #asks #also actually as a sidenote. sometimes color psychology is called a subsection of color theory?#but generally when someone is talking about color theory they’re talking about the technical side of things #terminology is weird and confusing unfortunately…

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hedgehog-moss · 1 day ago

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I had a friend over this week and even though the weather wasn't ideal, we decided we were going to go for a long walk in the surrounding woods with all three llamas. Since Pampelune is the uncontested chief, you just need to halter her and her herd follows wherever she goes. Sometimes we emerged from the woods into a pasture and Pampérigouste started galloping like mad (followed by her daughter & her abandonment issues), but then Pampy would object with some firm hums and the other two returned, chastened.

We'd brought a head of cabbage and we gave her a few leaves every time she successfully used her matriarch authority to re-gather our little group around her, even though she'd do it for free, because it's so nice to be able to go on walks with only one haltered llama and watch the younger ones frolic and explore the world as we go. Pampy seemed happy to walk with us at a steadier pace and to trade freedom for cabbage.

We'd initially planned to stay on my side of the torrent, but after meandering downhill for a long time we unexpectedly found an old bridge I didn't know existed, and it looked very inviting, so we crossed. (Ominous chords.) Then we enthusiastically went up hoping we'd see my house from the opposite hill—and we did, here it is :)

And then we went back into the woods, and got lost. Of course. I really think my friend carries some sort of curse because I don't usually get lost in nature but the last time we went on a great hike we also found ourselves completely disoriented in a featureless snowy plain, trying to glimpse the sun behind clouds and debating whether finding the North would help us in any way.

This time we were quicker to admit we were lost, and I said we could either go uphill, and we'd find the road eventually and the nearest milestone would tell us where we are (or we'd reach a farm on the plateau), or go downhill, and we'd find the stream eventually and cross it and then we'd be in a part of the woods I'd recognise. Probably.

Drawback of going uphill: it's technically the wrong direction, so the way home will be that much longer (and night falls at 5pm)

Drawback of going downhill: we'll have to cross the water at some point. Without a bridge. It would take a miracle to find that bridge again, supposing it was a real bridge and not a fae illusion to lead us astray.

After debating for a bit we decided to go downhill, because we were hopeful that we'd find a shallow spot to cross the stream, and also we feared that at nightfall the llamas might just lie down and decide to spend the night right here, in the woods. It's hard to make a llama get up again once she's decided that enough things happened for today.

The question of whether the llamas would accept to cross a mountain stream with us was left undebated—though we did regret having spent our cabbage too lavishly and too soon.

But we followed a rivulet downhill and Pampe crossed it repeatedly, with merry and graceful mountain goat jumps, which made us feel comforted in our decision.

Then we got to a point where the water became visible, and very noisy, and Pampelune started to feel suspicious. She made worried hums and walked more reluctantly and (having squandered our cabbage) we had to cajole her into compliance.

I love that my friend captured the moment when I crouched down and started straight-up lying to my llama.

Poldine was the last one to realise something was afoot, because she is young and trusting.

Once she did, she also became a bit reluctant (she wanted to go uphill again), and more than once my friend had to open her cloak-like coat in order to look like a bat and persuade Poldine that nothing good was happening in that direction.

We found a spot where the water was pretty shallow and decided to cross. The air temperature was maybe 1°c and the water felt like it was minus twelve so my friend wasn't exactly happy about the series of decisions that had led us to this point. I pointed out that last time in that snowy plain there was this piercing relentless evil wind howling in our ears and making unsettling voice-like sounds when it blew through holes in fences (to help her relativise) and she was like, when did this day go from singing walking songs and watching Pampe gambol in pastures to "at least this time we aren't being driven mad by ghostly wind."

I told her that things that go wrong become the most vivid and fun memories in the long term and we debated this postulate for a bit and I felt like I had successfully distracted her from our plight, until she put her foot in the water and said she wished she were in the metro in Paris right now. In Châtelet even. I said "but in two days you'll be in the Paris metro wishing you were here trying to cross a cold mountain stream with three appalled llamas!" and she said yes. Still, the situation is dire when a Parisian says she would rather be in Châtelet.

Pampe actually followed us quite quickly! I'm pointing this out because I'm always talking about how contrary Pampérigouste is, but she was so great about crossing the stream, even humming to her daughter as if to encourage her. I suppose she was telling Poldine that when they make their final escape and become wild llamas they'll probably have to cross mountain streams now and then.

Poldine panicked a bit once everyone was on the other side of the water except her, and although I'd already wrung out my socks I was psychologically preparing myself to cross the ice-cold water again and go get her—but after walking up and down the other bank desperately looking for an invisible bridge, she resentfully crossed.

Then we went uphill again and eventually found our way to my neighbour's pasture! I immediately recognised the old tree in the middle and I was very happy to see it. My friend was holding Pampy and I had climbed ahead to act as a scout, and I cried out to share my discovery feeling like Vasco de Gama. It was snowing just a tiny bit, and getting darker, and I think everyone (including Pirlouit, languishing alone in his pasture) had started to privately wonder if we were going to spend the night in the woods.

One interesting activity we did when we went home was testing the various objects that live on or near my fireplace to see which ones are heavy and stable enough to hang very wet socks. We tried the wistful wooden shepherd, the porcelain fox, the music box shaped like a pile of books, the vase, and found that the only reliable spots in my living-room to dry your socks are under Sherlock Holmes and under Marie-Antoinette so we agreed on a fair sock-drying rotation. The living-room smelled of wet wool (or wet llama) all evening, but we had a glass of champagne to celebrate the fact that we weren't currently trying to fight hypothermia by curling up between two llamas in some frosty meadow, and we felt pleased with our adventure, all things considered.

We realised a bit late that we had been in such a hurry to go home and warm up we'd neglected to reward our hiking companions, so we very bravely put on new socks and went out in the night to look for the llamas with our phone lights and distribute some muesli. Pirlouit was included in the distribution because he definitely would have crossed the stream with us had he been invited (and told his hay was on the other side.) Also we got a kiss from Poldine so I think she replayed the day's events in her head and came to the conclusion that her mother was, somehow, as always, to blame for all this.

#crawling along #we had to sneak under fences a few times to enter and leave pastures and pampe #was positively scandalised by the idea let me tell you #the other two squeezed through the gaps that we pointed them to without a fuss #while pampe stood on the other side like ''sneak through a fence?? why I never''

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smutoperator · 3 days ago

Text

Brotherly Love

Kim Minji, Kang Haerin x Male Reader

Kinkvember Chapter 6

Part 1 of 4 of All In Family

Main kinks: incest, gaping, ass eating

Word count: 4471.

Minji always had the utmost respect for her older brother. However, over the past few months, she started having some feelings for him that she just couldn't shake off.

Minji and her bickering friend Haerin love to masturbate together, sharing their fantasies with each other as they competed to see which one would orgasm the fastest, but one day, Minji just blew her best friend out of the water.

"Damn, Minji, you came so quickly today; why are you so horny?" Haerin asked. "Well, it's my brother; it feels like I can't wait to fuck him," she replied. "What the fuck, Minji, do you want to have sex with your brother? That's too far. Why can't you find another guy?" Haerin asks. "Well, I want him, only him," Minji answered. "And I want you to share him with me as well," she continued.

"Really? Damn Minji, you're just a naughty girl," Haerin answered, but her orgasm following up those words told Minji more than anything. She wanted her brother too. "Well, tomorrow I'm going to his house; you want to come with me?" Minji asked. "I guess I can do that," Haerin answered.

Minji and Haerin arrived at your house, where you kindly prepared some breakfast for them. "He is fucking hot," Minji whispered in Haerin's ear as you kept working on the kitchen. Haerin just nodded positively. "I wonder if he has a big dick," Minji then followed, closing her eyes and smiling as she couldn't hold her excitement.

"Here's some nice omelet, little sister," you said to Minji, serving her the food. "Thank you," she kindly answered and kept staring at you. Just like Minji heavily respected you, you also treated her very well, extremely proud that your younger sister had become one of the most popular idols in the country and always being there to offer her a helping hand like today.

"Thank you," Haerin also answered when you served her. "I'll be in the living room; see you later, little sister. You too, Haerin," you said. "Bye," Harin answered, quickly finding out why Minji liked you so much beyond just the typical brotherly love. Now she just needed to know what Minji was also dying to know: if you had a big dick or not.

"I'm so horny right now; I think we should make a move," Minji said to Haerin. "Ok," her younger friend answered, blushing. Minji had some second thoughts but she was really turned on by the idea of having sex with her brother, so she discussed a plan with Haerin.

"I'll go first; you then come and surprise him," Minji said. She was indeed a little selfish and wanted to taste your cock before anyone else, but she also felt more enjoyable doing a threesome with her brother than having sex with him all by herself. The two discussed this rather simple plan in the kitchen as they looked at you in the living room, before Minji finally went for it.

"Hey," you said as Minji approached you on the couch, already spreading her legs to show off her new denim shorts that barely covered her ass. "What are you doing, brother?" she asked. "Just reading a book," you answered. "What about you?" you then asked. "Nothing really," Minji said. "Also, you can read it later," she said, pushing the book to the side.

"What are you doing?" you asked. "Come on, I see the way you look at me," Minji says. "Let's do some forbidden things," Minji says, rubbing your belly with your shirt still on. "Come on," you resist her moves.

But Minji is relentless. "I know you want me to suck your cock," she says, rubbing her hands on your crotch now. "You're already hard for me," she notices. "I'm not the only one horny for you, brother; I saw the way you stared at me and Haerin at the kitchen," she said, catching you by surprise.

"Please, stop it," you tell Minji to back off, but she is way too deep into her fantasy at this point. "Let me take that cock in your mouth and give you a good blowjob; show you I'm a good little sister to my big brother," she answers.

"Okay," you answer as Minji kisses you and touches your crotch area. "Can I please your cock, big brother?" Minji asks. "Yes," you answer, caving to your little sister's desires. "I've been dreaming about it," Minji says. "Really?" you ask her, surprised. "Yes, literally," Minji says, thinking about those nights where she masturbated to the thought of having sex with you.

"Alright, if it's your dream, fine. I will always do what my little sister wants," you say to her, unzipping your pants and showing your giant anaconda to Minji. "Oh my God, can I touch it?" she asks. "Yes," you say. Minji starts rubbing and stroking it. "Does it feel good when I jack your big cock off?' she keeps asking. "Yes," you answer, impressed by your little sister's cock handling skills.

"You want me to put it in my mouth, don't you?" Minji asks, giving you a sexy stare as she increases the pace of stroking it. "Sure, I want to feel your warm mouth; do it," you tell her as you unbutton your shirt as well.

Minji slowly descends down, kissing you from top to bottom, starting all the way up in your mouth, going through your torso, and finishing at the tip of your cock, sending shivers down your spine when she does it. She gives your shaft a pair of licks before just putting the tip in her mouth. "Ahhhh," you groan as Minji firmly grabs that pole and sucks it masterfully.

"Oh my God, that feels so wrong, but you suck my cock so well; your mouth is so nasty and sloppy," you say to Minji, who remains concentrated on sucking it off and gently jerking that shaft. "Wow, ahhh, shit," you say as Minji massages your balls and keeps blowing your cock off while your head rests on the couch, trying to cope with the heat she puts on your dick.

"My best friend is so horny." Haerin comes in and sits beside you on the couch as Minji keeps sucking that big cock. "What's going on here?" you ask. "Don't you think I should join you guys?" Haerin asks. "It certainly looks fun," she says. "That's such a crazy day," you say. "Well, it's just starting," Haerin says, kissing you.

Haerin and you share kisses as Minji keeps sucking your cock. "I love watching my best friend suck your cock," Haerin says, pulling the new jeans she was wearing down and starting masturbating herself to the scene. Indeed, she always thought of Minji's fantasies with her brother, but seeing it in real life was much hotter than what she was expecting.

"Does your sister do a good job sucking your cock?" Haerin asks as she masturbates in front of you. "Sure," you answer her, looking at her teen pussy as she already pulls her panties down. "Do you want me to suck it too?" Haerin than answers as Minji moves deeper and makes you groan. "You want to suck my cock too?" you ask, shocked. "Yes, of course," Haerin answers. "It's just too good and too big for Minji to have it all to herself," she continues.

"Can I suck your cock?' Haerin politely asks. "Yes," you answer as Minji pulls her mouth out of it and strokes it for her best friend. Haerin dives to take your cock in her mouth, bobbing her head really fast as Minji keeps stroking it. "Oh yeah, hmmmm," she says as both girls take turns diving on it.

"You wanna see who can take it the deepest?" Minji challenges Haerin. "Sure," she answers. "You first," Minji then says. Haerin only takes half your length in her mouth, but the warmth of it drives you crazy. Minji pushes it further, taking around two-thirds of it in her horny mouth. Haerin tries to match but clearly struggles, gagging after just a couple seconds and coating your tip full of her spit.

Minji easily wins the deepthroating competition, taking the full length of your cock in her mouth in the third try. "I was just toying with you; I could have done it from the start," she says to Haerin as she takes the tip of your shaft while Haerin licks it from the side. They switch spots, with Haerin still struggling to get your cock all the way down her mouth. "Come on," Minji says as a string of her spit comes out of your balls and she licks your shaft sideways like a maniac.

Haerin accepts the challenge, finally getting all the way down your shaft. "Perfect," Minji says. "Now you proved to me you can take it in your pussy and ass," Minji continues. "You're such a dirty girl," Haerin says as she watches Minji use her mouth like a vacuum cleaner sucking your dick and then share kisses with her best friend as they taste your cock from their mouths.

"Ahhhhh," you groan as Haerin finally seems comfortable now deepthroating your cock. Her warm, young mouth is such a good fit for your shaft. Minji smiles as they engage themselves in a sloppy head-bobbing and deepthroating competition that drives you on the edge. "Oh my god," you groan each time they reach the base of your shaft.

"I can't believe I'm sucking my brother's cock," Minji says. Both girls smile as they taste it, but you want to push it further. "Let me fuck your mouths next," you tell them, getting up from the couch and stripping yourself naked, whole. Minji takes her jeans off and puts her big ass facing upwards as both she and Haerin get on all fours to get facefucked.

You start with Haerin's young, warm mouth, pounding her face hard as it turns red, and she tightens her mouth on your shaft, quickly gagging. Minji comes next, barely flinching as you fuck her throat and even answering with some head-bobbing. "Open it, please," you say as you switch back to Haerin and give her a second go, grabbing her hair as she clearly struggles with your massive shaft ripping her mouth apart like a sword.

You take turns switching your cock between their mouths, Minji clearly getting the best of it as you manage to push it deeper in hers, your little sister bobbing her head without even needing to use her hands. Once you finish it, both girls then lick the tip of your anaconda like hungry snakes.

"Come here, little sister, give me your pussy," you command to Minji, who spreads her legs as you start licking her pussy and asshole and then giving some kisses that make her moan. Haerin just watches. You spread her big asscheeks and keep tonguing her fuckholes. "Oh yeah," Minji moans. "Spread your ass," you tell Minji, tonguing deeper into it. "It feels so good when you put your tongue in my ass," she moans, fingering herself as you then move up to her cunt.

Haerin kisses her best friend as you savor Minji's clit and anus and enjoy your sister moaning with her legs fully spread. It doesn't take long for you to start rubbing your shaft against her entrance, slowly penetrating Minji's pussy and catching her by surprise. "Oh yes," she says, feeling your cock get inside her. "Oh my God, brother, that dick is so big it can barely fit in my pussy," Minji says, smiling at you.

"Fuck, oh, ah," Minji moans as you slowly thrust inside her pussy. Haerin keeps kissing her as you keep your sister's legs spread out, placing your thumb right in her clit as you pick up the pace and grabbing her little waist, enjoying her moans as you get deeper into her tight pussy. "Hmmmm, hmmmm, hmmmm, hmmmm, oh yeah," Minji moans as you quickly fuck her quite fast, enjoying her young wet pussy a lot, putting your thumb in her mouth to muffle her moans in a futile effort, with Minji quickly turning into a moaning mess as you thrust hard and your balls clap against her soft skin.

You feed your cock for Haerin to taste, pushing her head against your shaft for her to savor your sister's tasty pussy. "Spit on it," you tell Haerin as she offers the extra lube you need to go back inside Minji's tight pussy. All your sister can do is moan like a slut, especially when Haerin fingers her clit while you keep fucking Minji, really regretting taking so long to get inside her amazing, wet, and tight cunt, even though you knew for a long while your little sister was a special kind of girl.

"OH FUCK!" Minji screams as you move upwards and start kissing her, switching from your standard missionary fucking position into a more powerful mating press that makes her big ass hit hard against the couch. Haerin lies Minji's face on her lap as she whispers dirty words about your sister to you while enjoying your passionate kisses and Minji reaching her moaning tongue to lick her perky young tits. You keep attacking Minji's pussy relentlessly, her body getting completely pressed against the couth until you bring it up and carry-fuck your little sister under Haerin's watch. "OH YEAH!" Minji screams as she gets pounded hard.

"Suck it," you tell Haerin as you carry your sister and pull out of Minji, feeding her young friend with your big shaft. Minji stays moaning as you get her back on her feet and bring Haerin to take her turn, rubbing your cock against her entrance before going in, fucking her the same way you did Minji. "You like fucking that pink young pusssy, Daddy?" she asks. "Yes," you say, groaning that her young hole is even tighter than your sister's.

"FUCK, OH GOD!" Haerin screams as Minji's hands join your cock in pleasing her pussy. You grab her legs and push your cock deeper into her cunt, making her pray even further for God. You then tease Haerin, going in and out of her pussy while Minji kisses her, groaning a lot as you can feel how tight she is, more so when Minji fingers her clit and makes Haerin's walls clench specially hard.

You avoid a close call by pulling out of Haerin, only for Minji to come right in to taste your cock from her friend's pussy. "You two are nasty girls," you tell them. "But you love doing that, Daddy? Fucking your little baby and little sister like that, right?" Haerin asks. "Yeah," you answer, getting back inside her for some extra fun. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," she moans as you fuck her hard and kiss your sister like you were her boyfriend.

But Minji wants more. "Come put your cock in my ass, please," she tells you, giving you a naughty stare. "Your cock is so huge, big brother, I wonder if it can get all the way inside my tiny little asshole. Please, stick it in my ass," Minji says as Haerin mores aside.

"I can't believe I'm doing this, fucking my own sister in the ass," you say as you push just the tip in Minji's butthole but struggle against her tightness. "Wow," you say as Minji's anal walls leave hardly any space for your large cock. "Oh my God, your cock is huge in my ass, fuck yeah, you're really stretching me open," an excited Minji says as you slowly but surely get deeper inside it.

You and Haerin pinch Minji's nipples. "Wow, they are getting so hard," she says. "Spread that fat ass for me, little sister," you tell Minji, who obliges as you now also pinch her clit. Your cock is only halfway up her ass, and she already moans softly. "HMMMM, HMMMM, HMMMMM," she says as you kiss Haerin and then dive to lick your sister's tits. More push and you get deeper, massaging her pussy and spreading her lips open as you also spread her butthole open.

You get more aggressive, moving onto hard thrusts up Minji's ass while increasing the pace you finger her clit. You love the way Minji's throbbing clit pulsates while you fuck her ass, especially with your hands all over it. You get completely on top of your little sister, pushing deeper into her tight anal cavity, making her moan and scream loud. "OH FUCK YEAH," Minji says, before offering an indecent proposal to her best friend.

"Now you have to try his cock in your ass," Minji says to Haerin. The youngster obliges as she spreads her legs for her turn next. Once again, just getting the tip in is a struggle; these girls have really tight anuses. But you push hard and manage to get in. "Oooh yeah," Haerin moans as soon as your cock pushes deeper in her butt.

"Oh my God, this cock looks so good in your ass," Minji tells her best friend. All Haerin can do is close her eyes as you take it very slow with her, as she is so sensible in there that just your tip inside makes her quickly react. You ease Haerin up, getting your cock in and out of her ass repeatedly. "Oh my God, I don't know if I can take it," Haerin claims. "Well, let's see," you tell her.

"That looks so hot," Minji says as you keep pushing against Haerin's butt and lick her feet. "OUCH," the young girl says, trying to cope with the pain in her tiny ass. She gasps from time to time and prays to God as things go fairly slowly. Minji just watches as Haerin finally gets more than half of your cock inside her. You finally get deeper but still go nice on her, trying to not break your sister's best friend. "FUCKKKK," Haerin screams from time to time as you use Minji's mouth to lube your cock while Haerin spreads her ass for some gape.

"I think you should teach her," you say to Minji, who turns around and gets herself on all fours, flaunting her biggest ass to you as you get on top of your sister, and she kisses Haerin. "Look at that ass, perfect to get stuffed," you say as your cock slides back inside Minji's butthole. Minji closes her eyes and moans really loud. "HMMMMM, AHHHHH, AHHHHHH, AHHHH," she says. "You like watching my little sister getting fucked in the ass?" you ask Haerin. "Of course," she answers.

"Oh yeah, yeah, yeah, ummmmm, oh my God," Minji keeps moaning as you grab her waist and pound her ass from behind. "You like getting fucked like that in the ass, slutty little sister?" you ask her. "Defiinitely, ahhhh fuck, oh God, yeah," Minji answers, her asshole now getting gaped really hard, which she notices. "My ass gapes so much; look how good this big cock is stretching it out," she says as you grab her butt and spread her cheeks even further.

Minji stays on all fours, getting her ass stuffed hard. You go faster and faster, determined to take your cock into the depths of your little sister's anus. "Oh yeah, keep going, brother, hmmmm," Minji says as you thrust hard inside her butt before pushing out to show off the massive gape in her anus. "I want you to make my gape really big," Minji demands as the anal pounding session keeps going for a while. "Do you feel it stretching your ass out? Do you like that?" you ask Minji. "Yes, brother," she answers as a massive gape pops out of her anus.

"I want it back in my ass, daddy," Haerin says as soon as you take your cock off of Minji's tight butthole. Haerin replaces her as you kiss your sister. "Such a good girl," you say to Minji as your cock slowly makes its way back inside Haerin's butt. "You like to watch your best friend being fucked in the ass by your brother?" you ask Minji. "Hell yes, its so fucking hot," she answers.

You bury your cock deep in Haerin's asshole, her butt getting quickly romped as you fuck her in the same position you did Minji. The young girl closes her eyes and feels very relaxed. Minji licks Haerin's ears as you attack her ass harder and deeper, showing Minji how deep your cock is getting inside of her best friend. "So good," you say as Haerin moans and screams.

A massive gape comes off Haerin's butthole after a few minutes, much larger than the one from Minji, who chimes in to lick her friend's gaping butthole as soon as she gets a chance before going back up to bob her head a bit on your cock. "Oh my God," you groan as Minji catches you off-guard and sucks your cock like a maniac to enjoy the flavor or Haerin's butthole.

Minji guides your cock back into her best friend's ass, enjoying what she's been watching. You push very deep into Haerin's butt, but assuring the young girl you won't break her in half, just ensure she'll learn how to get fucked good in her ass. "OH MY GOD," she moans as her legs tremble and your thrysts get more and more powerful. Minji just watches, chiming in to suck your cock and lick Haerin's butthole in every opportunity given to her and then spreading Haerin's butt.

Haerin's struggle as the large girth of your cock does quite a wreckage in her asshole. She's very much a novice when it comes to anal sex, so now she just closes her eyes and hides the pain of every deep thrust you give inside her tiny little ass. "Nice girl," you praise her, as you notice she can barely stay on her knees but still keeps thrusting hard like a madman into her little used tight teen anus while sharing kisses with your little sister.

"OH GOD, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!" Haerin screams as she gets her ass pounded hard and deep. You sense you pushed her to the limit, handling Minji the duty of licking the wounds of her friend's gaped anus, which she does to perfection and gets your big cock as a reward. "I want you in my ass for one last time," Minji says. "But not before you two suck my cock," you reply as you lay down.

Minji and Haerin share the eagerness to lick your shaft, your sister taking the initiative. "I can't believe we're having such hot sex with my brother," Minji tells Haerin as both take turns bobbing their heads on your pole, Minji especially choking hard on it as she gets quite wet to sit on it while you and Haerin tongue-kiss.

"Jump on that cock," you order to Minji, who spreads her ass to take it back inside and starts riding it like a maniac. "Ahhh, ahhhh, ahhhh, oh yeah," she moans. "Oh my God," you groan as her asshole squeezes your shaft to the fullest. "I can't believe it's so fucking good, little sister," you say to her as she twerks on your cock perfectly, you spreading her big ass as Minji kisses Haerin while bouncing on your cock.

"Oh fuck, yeah," Minji moans as you push her body closer to yours, wrapping your hands around her waist and thrusting upwards in her asshole. "Harder, brother, fuck my ass harder," she demands, and do like that, your balls slapping hard on her cheeks as you pound your sister's ass really fast. "Fuck, keep going, brother, oh yeah, yeah, yeah," Minji moans as you fuck her butt and spank it hard until you get exhausted and show off the massive gape you left on it.

"I love the way you make me gape," Minji says as she looks at her prolapsed butthole. Haerin is in awe and wants it for herself, sitting her tight ass on your cock the second after Minji pulls out of it. Despite her inexperience, the little teenager challenges herself, trying to bounce as fast as she can on that fat pole. "Your cock is so big, daddy," she says, without dropping the pace of the ride, slowly learning the ways around it.

Haerin almost levitates as she goes up and down your cock. "Oh fuck," she moans. Minji watches and licks her young friend's hard nipples. "Oh God, shit, your brother is so big," Haerin moans as she closes her eyes, pushing hard as your shaft keeps impaling her. Minji helps her friend as she fingers Haerin's pussy and sucks her tits, giving her the confidence boost she needs to stay on top of your cock.

Haerin eventually succumbs as she gets down closer to your body but keeps your cock stuffed in her asshole. You take advantage of her weakness, grabbing her legs and putting her under a full nelson she'll never forget. "Oh my God," Haerin says as she is now completely defenseless to your hard thrusts. Minji looks at her and kisses her best friend, who gets completely obliterated. As soon as you pull out, Minji is right there to lick her best friend's massive gape, taking a long time tonguing Haerin's anus.

"You're so fucking nasty, little sister, I think you deserve a reward," you say. "I know I do, big brother," Minji answers, jerking your cock off. "Join me, let's make him cum togehter," she tells Haerin, as it doesn't take long until your erection turns into a fountain of cum that lands all over your crotch and belly, with Minji and Haerin cleaning it off with their tongues and swapping it with each other. "I can't believe this happened," is all you can say after an amazing session with your sister and her best friend.

"There is more tonight," Minji says. "Damn, I barely could handle one session, and you already want more, little sister?" you ask her.

"Well, not my fault you have such a great cock, big brother," Minji answers. "I hope it's hard and throbbing when I meet you in a few hours," she says.

Indeed, as you return to your home on that night, you see three naked asses up on that couch winking for you. The middle on you can tell it's Minji, but who are the other two?

"Good evening, big brother, I want you to meet Hanni," Minji points to the ass to the left of her, "and Danielle," she points to the right. "What do you want to do with them tonight? Tell me and I will lead you," Minji says.

All you could think of is how lucky you were for having such a naughty sister like her.

#minji smut #haerin smut #newjeans smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #male reader smut

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