#and takes me by surprise in its stark contrast to how little i care about the other kinds of usage

[pencap]

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[reiding-writing]

hello! i LOVE your cold reader series so very much, would you be open to writing kind of the opposite? where instead of being like winter, reader is autumn incarnate? cozy and sweet with kind words for everyone, quiet and bookish but not in a standoffish way… thank you in advance! i just adore all of your writing 🫶✨

AUTUMN BREEZE — SPENCER REID!

your coworker’s would describe you like an autumn breeze, calm, cool, and comforting.

spencer reid x fem!reader | 1.0k | fluff | masterlist.

a/n — meet cold!reader’s… autumnal sister? idk i really love this premise it’s so cute

You step into the bullpen, a bundle of warmth in knitwear and wide-leg slacks, a soft rustling that reminds you of leaves skittering across a pavement in autumn. It's a sound you've always loved—crisp, comforting, familiar.

You carry it with you, like the golden hues of October, brushing against everyone in the office without even trying.

There’s an energy here that contrasts sharply with your calm: the hurried clicks of keyboards, the rustle of files, the undercurrent of murmured conversations.

But you bring something softer, something like the warm light that filters through the trees on a crisp morning.

Your mug of tea—sweetened with a touch of honey, as always—rests in your hands. The scent drifts upward, a subtle comfort that follows the rhythm of your movements. When you pass Spencer’s desk, he looks up from a thick stack of case files. His face is pale from long hours, his tie slightly askew. You can’t help but smile.

“Hey, Spencer,” you call softly, your voice low and warm, the sound steeped in honeyed affection.

He startles slightly, his grip faltering on the stack of files. “Oh, hey,” he stammers, adjusting quickly. “Good morning,”

“Morning,” You back track a few steps and turn toward him, your hand instinctively resting on his elbow to steady him. The wool of his blazer is coarse beneath your fingertips, a stark contrast to the softness of your sweater. “Let me help?”

“Oh, uh, no—” Spencer starts to protest, but you’re already taking half the stack, leaving him blinking in surprise.

“What would you do without me, hm?” you tease gently, your smile widening as you step toward his desk, files tucked safely under your arm.

From behind, you hear Morgan’s voice break through the bullpen chatter, a teasing lilt in his tone. “Careful, Reid. She’s got you wrapped around her little finger,”

You roll your eyes but don’t miss the faint flush that creeps up Spencer’s neck. You’re used to Morgan’s ribbing, just as you’re used to Spencer’s shy reactions to it. “He’d probably drop these all over the floor if I weren’t here,” you say over your shoulder, earning a laugh from Emily and JJ.

Spencer’s face flushes deeper, but his lips twitch with the beginnings of a smile. “I, uh, probably would,” he admits, his voice quiet.

You take a moment to dump your half of the pile onto your desk before retreating back to him, and you take a moment to brush an imaginary speck of dust from his sleeve. He glances down at your hand, his expression unreadable, but you don’t notice.

Your touch is always gentle, always brief—a steadying hand on a shoulder, a playful nudge, the faintest of brushes against his wrist. It’s second nature to you, an extension of the warmth you try to bring into the world.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment too long.

“You’re welcome,” you say simply, your expression softer than any silk pillow Spencer could imagine laying upon. “Now, let me guess—this is all reading material for the case?”

Spencer nods, launching into an explanation about geographical profiling and its application to their latest unsub. You listen intently, leaning against the edge of his desk, your arms crossed loosely.

The bullpen noise fades to a dull hum in the background as his voice fills the space between you. It’s one of your favorite things about Spencer—how his passion lights up the room, even in the smallest ways.

The comfortable silence that follows his explanation feels important—the kind of stillness that carries the faintest echo of sound, a reminder of something fleeting and beautiful. You let it settle, neither of you rushing to fill the space.

“You’re always so calm,” Spencer says suddenly, his voice breaking the silence but not the tranquility. His gaze is thoughtful, as though he’s been turning the words over in his mind before saying them out loud. “Even when things are hectic,”

You tilt your head, studying him for a moment before replying. “I think it’s because I try to see the good in things. In people. It helps me feel grounded.”

Spencer’s lips curve into a small, genuine smile. “It suits you,”

Before you can respond, Morgan’s voice cuts through the moment again. “Reid, you planning to finish signing those reports or just whisper sweet nothings into her ear all day?”

The bullpen erupts in laughter, and Spencer immediately ducks his head, muttering something unintelligible. You laugh softly, a sound that seems to relax him just a little.

“Don’t worry, Spencer,” you say, your voice light but sincere. “I’ll defend your honour, promise,”

“Seriously?” Derek teases from across the room, leaning back in his chair. There’s a grin tugging at his lips, but it’s warm, harmless. “Do you ever stop radiating comfort?”

“Can’t help it,” you say with a shrug, meeting his teasing tone with an easy smile. “Someone’s gotta balance out all the brooding around here.” You glance meaningfully at Hotch’s office, and Derek chuckles.

Spencer’s lips twitch, but he hides his smile behind the stack of papers he’s pretending to read.

[caitified]

please please please something with jealous kate and famous reader i was waiting for the day you would write for herrrrrrrrr ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

jealously

kate martin x reader

thank you for all the support everyone, i couldn't decide what career to give reader so its kind of ominous

kate had always known what she was getting into when she started dating you. as a star guard for iowa’s basketball team, she was used to being in the limelight. but nothing could have prepared her for the level of attention you received. you were everywhere. your face was plastered on billboards, your followers adored you, and it felt like you couldn’t go anywhere without people wanting to take a picture or ask for an autograph.

she loved you deeply. there was no doubt about that. but sometimes, that fame, the constant attention you received, weighed on her. it wasn’t that kate didn’t trust you—she knew your heart belonged to her. it was more the way people seemed to ignore the fact that you were in a relationship, treating you like you were single, as if she wasn’t right there by your side.

tonight was one of those nights. you had been invited to a high-profile event, a glamorous affair where the rich and famous mingled. kate had accompanied you, dressed sharp in a sleek suit, trying to play it cool. she loved being with you, supporting you, but as the evening wore on, her patience started to wear thin.

everywhere you went, people swarmed you. photographers, fans, influencers—everyone wanted a piece of your time. you were polite, always gracious, and tried your best to introduce kate to the people you talked to, but it felt like she was constantly being overshadowed. and then there were the guys—charming, smooth-talking guys who couldn’t seem to keep their eyes off you, even though everyone knew you had a girlfriend.

as the evening continued, kate found herself standing off to the side, watching as you laughed and chatted with a group of people, completely unaware of the growing tension inside her.

she was usually good at hiding her feelings, but tonight, the jealousy bubbled up, sharp and hot. when one of the men in the group casually placed his hand on your arm, leaning in a little too close as he spoke, something snapped in kate.

she crossed the room in quick strides, her jaw clenched. “hey,” she said, sliding her arm around your waist a little more possessively than usual. “having fun?”

you turned, surprised but smiling when you saw her. “hey, babe! yeah, we were just talking about—”

but kate wasn’t interested in small talk right now. her eyes flicked toward the man who had been all too friendly, and then back to you. “mind if i steal you for a minute?”

you noticed the edge in her voice, and a wave of guilt washed over you. you’d been so caught up in the event, you hadn’t realized how kate must have been feeling. “of course,” you said quickly, excusing yourself from the group.

kate didn’t say a word as she led you outside, the cool night air a stark contrast to the heated atmosphere inside.

“kate, what’s wrong?” you asked softly, taking her hand once you were alone. “you’ve been acting a little off all night.”

kate sighed, running a hand through her hair, clearly frustrated but trying to keep her cool. “i know this is your world,” she began, her voice tight, “and i love that you’re successful, but… sometimes it feels like i’m invisible when i’m with you. like no one even cares that you’re taken. guys hit on you like i’m not even there.”

you stepped closer, wrapping your arms around her waist and looking up into her eyes. “kate, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to make you feel that way,” you said softly. “i only have eyes for you. you know that, right?”

kate’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but she still looked conflicted. “i know. i trust you. i just… i guess i get jealous sometimes. it’s hard seeing everyone else fawn over you like they don’t know you’re with me.”

you cupped her face gently, brushing your thumb over her cheek. “kate, you have nothing to be jealous about. i’m crazy about you. i love you, not the attention or the cameras or any of that. it’s you i want to come home to at the end of the day.”

kate’s eyes softened as she looked into yours. “i love you too,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “it’s just hard when it feels like i’m competing with the whole world for your attention.”

“you’re not,” you promised, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. “you’re the only one who matters to me. and i’ll do a better job of making sure everyone knows it.”

kate smiled against your lips, the tension finally easing out of her body. “good,” she whispered. “because i don’t want to share you with anyone.”

you laughed softly, pulling her into a tighter embrace. “you won’t have to.”

thanks for reading! keep your requests coming, very appreciated

[foreverisntenough]

‘Aperture’

Summary: A professional footballer with a playboy reputation finds his world reframed when he meets a talented photographer who captures the light and depth he’s never seen in himself. As their friendship develops, he finds himself illuminated by her presence—a stark contrast to the shallow spotlight he’s used to, but her guarded heart keeps her from fully trusting his intentions. Their friendship develops, like film in a darkroom, shifting into something far more intimate. But when their connection begins to blur the lines between friendship and something more, he realizes she’s the light he’s been chasing without knowing it and fights to prove he’s ready for something real. Yet, their love hangs in the balance—will the film of their story overexpose and fade, or will it develop into something vivid and timeless. Sometimes, love is about adjusting the focus, letting in the right light, and trusting the process.

Chapter Index:

Fashion Index: For all Y/N's looks! No more bad links!

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, slight mention of drugs, drinking - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!]

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series!

a little note from me 💌 

Chapter 9- 'Subconscious Slips' | 'Aperture'

word count - 13k

The following weekend it was Leon’s birthday. Trent needed to not do what he did the previous weekend, his head was still pounding from that last party. And if it weren’t for the alcohol, his head hurt worse at the slivers of the night he remembered. He didn’t even touch Cassie but just being in another girl's proximity made things all the more obvious— he wasn’t interested at all. He had the training session from hell the following day after his self defined ‘pisstake’ of a night. The weather was starting to warm again though or at least not be frigid and Leon was having a big bonfire in his back garden to celebrate. You told Foster you’d go over early and help her with set up. You didn’t really want to help, well you didn’t mind as much, you just wanted to hopefully see Trent before liquor potentially got involved again. But it felt like you were drunk already. Like the whole world tilted just slightly on its axis, forcing you to steady yourself upon seeing him. Trent was bent over a crate of firewood, strong hands gripping the edges as he lifted the logs effortlessly. His hoodie stretched over his back, muscles flexing beneath the fabric, and you felt your breath hitch before you could stop it. You didn’t want to acknowledge the excitement bubbling under your skin at seeing him. But you also didn’t want to acknowledge the fear.  

The air still carried the lingering bite of winter, but the bonfire would take care of that once the sun dipped. Leon’s backyard was already half-set for the night – but right now, it was empty, just you and Trent, the world still for a moment but the second he heard your voice, it was like he forgot reality. 

“How was your hangover?” you asked sweetly, your voice quieter than intended, betraying the nerves you swore you weren’t feeling as you took a seat on the stone ledge around the perimeter of the patio in front of him. Trent, bent over a box of firewood, glanced up at you, a flicker of surprise in his eyes before it melted into something softer, warmer. His lips twitched into that lazy, half-amused smirk that had always made your stomach feel weightless as you caught a flash of dimples.

“Mine was filled with a £500 fine from the lads, a very, very long sauna, a couple footie drills I fucked up, and a few Ibuprofen.” He told you and before you even realized what you were doing, your hand found his arm, solid and real in a way that made your heart beat harder in your chest. His skin was warm under his jumper, and you felt him tense—just for a second—before he relaxed into your touch.  That moment was a reset. Or maybe just a pause in the chaos. Either way, you’d take it. “You survive? Didn’t like seeing those tears.” He smiled at you sympathetically but it wasn’t patronizing, it was sincere. 

“Survived would be the word.” You sighed mildly embarrassed you’d cried at all. “£500 is hardly a dent in your salary though, T.” You giggled trying to swiftly move on from your embarrassment to his. Trent exhaled a laugh, looking down at where your fingers had stayed pressed into his bicep, locking onto the way your fingers curled around him. He felt it in his chest, in his stomach, in places he really shouldn’t. He hated how good it felt, how natural, how bad he wanted it there. 

“Little bit of a dent in my ego, though.” He added. You let go quickly, suddenly aware of yourself, but Trent shook his head—small, almost imperceptible. You don’t have to be sorry, not for touching me. Something curled low in your stomach, hot and twisting. Your bodies reacting in a way words couldn’t describe, in ways conversations could never cover.

“Was too big anyway,” you teased, trying to settle yourself, trying to find solid ground in this conversation instead of whatever dangerous edge you were teetering on. You squeezed your hands together in your lap, not knowing where else to put them now, awkward, unsure. Trent, though—he wasn’t listening anymore. Or rather, he didn’t hear you. He got distracted by your open jacket. [ref index]His eyes had dipped, dragged lower, lingering on the way your tank top clung against you just right, the curve of your tits teasing, taunting, pushed together by your arms as you fidgeted.  It wasn’t intentional. But it was enough to make his mouth go dry forcing him to attempt to swallow the fantasy down.

“What’s big?” he asked, dragging a hand over his head as if it would shake the thought away. You blinked, confused for a second until you followed his line of sight, heat creeping up your neck.

“Your ego, T,” you laughed repeating yourself, and his smirk curled slow, sinful.

“You’re very funny.” he murmured, a little teasing but there was something about the way he said it—low, smooth, deliberate—that made your breath catch.

“I’m funny…” You paused. “And I’m also your friend, right?” You asked it playfully, but the words felt like they hung between you, too heavy to be casual, too charged to be brushed aside. Trent cocked his head, studying you, dark eyes flicking between yours. “We’re friends?” You taunted him unintentionally intentionally as he tried to shake the memory of your tits out of his brain hearing the word ‘friends’ roll off your tongue.’ But there was nothing friendly about the way you said it, it was flirty. A flicker in your eye, the tiniest quirk of your lips, like you already knew the answer wasn’t simple.  Trent, still watching you too closely, still lingering in whatever spell you cast over him, tilted his head again. 

“Yeah, we’re friends.” He smirked lazily, his eyes locked on yours returning the taunt. It should’ve been definitive. It wasn’t. You parted your lips, maybe to say something, maybe just to breathe, but the sound of the back door sliding open had reality crashing back in.  Foster. The tension wrapped around you both, thick and suffocating, settling in the space between your knees, in the inches of air between your bodies. You could feel the heat of him, the pull of something unnamed and unspoken, the way his eyes flickered to your lips just for a second too long. 

“Stop saying it like we’re not!” you giggled, accusing him of being the only one feeling the unsaid, shoving at his chest playfully, desperate to lighten the moment, to put it into a box you could understand. Your eyes flicking to where foster was to see if you’d been caught flirting— you hadn’t. Not by her at least. Trent let out that boyish giggle—the one that knocked the wind out of you, that made your stomach clench in ways you refused to acknowledge. He liked that he just had you so on edge, that he caught you flirting.

“You’re saying it like we’re not!” He threw back with a grin. He had a point. His eyes still holding something wicked, something teasing, something that said he knew exactly what you weren’t saying. Neither of you were saying those words with any real conviction. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head, pretending like you weren’t burning from the inside out. Trent looked back at you and nodded toward the yard, motioning for you to follow. And you did. And it was a step—forward, backward, sideways. You didn’t know. But you took it anyway. And that was a step—one you weren’t sure you were ready to take. But you took it anyway.

—

[Heaven - Niall Horan]

The fire crackled between you, glowing embers dancing up into the night, but it wasn’t nearly as warm as the space between you and Trent. You two had started the bonfire and plenty of people had arrived but they were far away. Friends scattered across the back patio, laughter spilling into the air, drinks clinking, voices carrying—but here, tucked beside the flames, it felt like you and him existed in your own little world… attempting to be friends.

“I think I eventually will get out of Manny,” you murmured, watching the way the firelight flickered against the edges of the logs. Trent turned his head toward you, his knee bumping yours. 

“Yeah?” His voice was soft, almost like he didn’t want to break whatever this was. “Sorry I’ve only seen your place in bad circumstances. Wish I got to see more. Was nice. ” His tone was apologetic when it didn’t need to be. You two were talking about your apartment, your lease, stupid stuff you were pretending friends talked about. 

“It’s nothing special.” You shrugged, lips curling slightly. 

“So, families not up here? Not from here?” His brow furrowed, desperate to learn more about you. But a flicker of irritation passed through you—he’d know that if he’d bothered to come to the Burberry dinner. But you swallowed it down when you realized he was leaning in again, eyes expectant, actually wanting to know the answer.

“Do I sound like my family’s from here, T?” you teased, tilting your head.

“Nah,” he chuckled, shaking his head. He felt stupid. Obviously you didn’t have a northern accent but he didn’t know where you grew up, he hadn’t had a chance to ask yet, well he did but he bottled it and now he wanted to know. “Well, if you move, you should come live in the best city in the world.” He added attempting to rectify the dumb question he was embarrassed by. 

“Oh yeah?” You smirked with a stupid smitten smile.

“Liverpool. Just so we’re clear,” he grinned, doubling down. 

“You don’t even live in Liverpool.” You laughed, nudging his thigh lightly with yours. 

“So you want to live near me?” he teased, voice dipping into something playful, something bordering on dangerous. Subconsciously you scooted towards him on the bench you were sitting on. It was a last minute addition to individual seats circling the bonfire, added per Foster’s advisory to accommodate more people eventually. But for right now, you preferred this being where you were. Being closer to him, not confined in by the arms of a chair.

“That’s not what I said…” you murmured, licking your lips, fighting the giggle bubbling up your throat. But he was too close now, his fingers resting on the bench beside yours, barely a whisper of space between them. He was all golden warmth, firelight dancing across his skin, highlighting every curve of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the way his lashes cast long shadows against his cheekbones. He looked beautiful. Then the silence stretched. Not awkward—never awkward—but charged. Like you were both hyper-aware of every breath, every movement, every unspoken thing hovering between you.

“You look beautiful,” Trent said, so quietly you almost thought you imagined it. Your stomach clenched, your heart a traitorous thing in your chest. That’s what you were thinking, you wanted to say about him. Instead, you shook your head, rolling your eyes like it didn’t affect you, like you weren’t aching from the inside out. “Give it…” he murmured, smirking just slightly.

“Give what?” Your brow furrowed.

“The camera. You have it.” He extended his hand toward you, palm open, waiting.

“T…” you whispered, shaking your head, pleading with him not to do this. Not to make you see yourself through his eyes. Last time you did, it ended up with the film ruined on the pavement and tears streaming down your face. His hand dropped, but instead of retreating, it landed on your thigh, palm up, fingers brushing against the denim of your jeans. It wasn’t a squeeze, wasn’t even a grip—but somehow, it felt like he was holding onto you, like he was kneading at something deeper than just skin. Like he was remembering, just like you were.

“C’mon,” he coaxed, tilting his head, smiling at you so softly you felt like your chest might cave in. The dark brown of his eyes honeyed by the flames. “I’ve done it before. Just want you to see what I see.” The words settled in your stomach, heavy and light all at once. “I’m a good photographer as well, you know.” He was relentless, wasn’t he? You sighed, rolling your eyes for show as you reached into the big pocket of your jacket, fingers closing around your small camera. When you placed it in his hand, your fingertips brushed against his, and suddenly, the sparks from the fire in front of you felt like they were landing on your skin instead. You sucked in a quiet breath, but he caught it—his lips twitched like he knew. Like he felt it too.

-

The fire crackled beside you, sending waves of warmth over your skin, but nothing burned hotter than the way Trent was looking at you. His fingers fumbled with the camera, adjusting the lens with the same kind of thoughtfulness he usually reserved for a football at his feet. But his concentration faltered the second he felt you watching him.

“How do I…?” he muttered, turning the dial aimlessly, his brows drawing together in frustration as the viewfinder remained blurry.

“T, just…” you sighed, shifting slightly, your knee brushing against his.

“I got it, I got it…” He reassured you, but his hand—warm and steady—landed blindly too high on your thigh in the process. A completely thoughtless move. A completely devastating one. And then– the lens finally focused, and for a second, he forgot how to breathe.

“Already forget?” You teased, your voice softer now, more careful. You meant the film camera tutorial, but the way Trent swallowed, the way his grip subtly tensed on your thigh—it felt like you were asking something else entirely. Like you were asking if he’d already forgotten the way you used to fit into his life, the way you looked. If he’d forgotten the way you fit into him.  But he hadn’t. Not for a second. Through the grainy lens, he saw you clearer than ever, the firelight turning your skin to gold, your eyes holding something he was too afraid to name. It twisted something deep inside him, the kind of ache he couldn’t outrun. He exhaled a soft laugh with a shake of the head, a silent answer of ‘never.’

“Smile for me, baby…” And just like that, the world slowed, the words spilled out of him before he could stop them. It was quiet, nearly drowned out by the popping embers, but you heard it. Heard the way his voice dipped, the way his breath caught. And you didn’t correct him. You didn’t want to. Not when it sounded like that. So you smiled, cheeks rounding, lashes dipping, the warmth in your chest blooming into something deeper. A smile reserved only for him. And then—click. The shutter snapped. “Hold on… one mo-” he said, shifting forward towards you more, tilting the camera slightly.

“T!” You giggled leaning towards him to get him to stop as he clicked another, the laughter bubbling out of you before you could stop it. His grin stretched wide, gorgeous and effortless, and it made your stomach twist in that way it always did around him.

“Alright, alright.” He laughed, finally lowering the camera, but his arm—his hand—found your waist before you could move too far. It was instinct, like muscle memory, like he couldn’t help himself. “You look beautiful tonight, though. I mean that.” His voice had dropped lower now, quiet but sure. His thumb dipped into the back of your jeans.

“Thank you…” Your breath hitched. You were close. Too close. Practically in his lap, your legs brushing, his fingers still pressed against your waist. You held his gaze for a long, weighted beat, something unspoken sitting heavy between you. The flames flickered, the party buzzed in the background, but the world felt small—just the two of you, just this moment. And then, recklessly, helplessly, it slipped from your lips.

“I’ve missed you.” You hadn’t meant to say it. Maybe you had. Either way, it was too late now. The words hung there, delicate and dangerous, and Trent… Trent looked wrecked. His eyes darkened, his jaw ticked, and for a second, he just stared at you like you’d pulled the ground from beneath him. And you swore you could see it—the ache buried deep, the same one you carried, the one neither of you had spoken about. You wondered if he ever would. If you ever could.

–

Trent swallowed, his grip tightening just slightly around your waist. Your words were soft, barely above the crackling of the fire, but they landed heavier than anything else tonight. His pulse thrummed in his ears, drowning out everything except you.

"Say that again," he murmured, voice so low it sent shivers down your spine. He needed to know you actually just said that, he wasn’t dreaming. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. You hadn't even meant to say it aloud, but now there was no taking it back, no pretending it didn’t exist between you. His eyes bore into yours, dark and honeyed by the firelight, waiting—no, hoping—you’d say it again.

"I missed you," you whispered. Trent exhaled sharply, like the words had hit him square in the chest. His fingers flexed against your waist, his free hand lifting to your jaw, thumb ghosting over your cheek. You knew this look—had seen it before, had felt it before—but this time, it felt different. It felt like he wasn’t just looking at you. He was holding onto you, memorizing you, afraid that if he let go, he’d lose you all over again.

“I never stop missing you,” he admitted, voice raw. His forehead dipped closer to yours, not quite touching but so close you could feel his breath against your lips. The fire crackled, the distant laughter of your friends a hazy backdrop, but here, in this tiny pocket of space, it was just you and him. The world had shrunk to the span of his hands on you, the warmth of his body so close to yours, the weight of emotions neither of you could ignore anymore. You didn’t know who moved first—maybe it was both of you—but suddenly, you were closer. His nose brushed against yours, his fingers slid up, cupping the back of your neck. You felt the heat of his skin, the unspoken words hanging between you like embers in the night. But he didn’t close the distance. Instead, he stayed there, staring at you, waiting for something—permission, a sign, anything. And God, you wanted to give it to him.

—

It felt like fire had died down to its embers, but the warmth between you only ignited more—heavy, aching, impossible to ignore. The world had quieted around you, or maybe you’d just tuned it all out. All you could hear was the soft crackle of the dying flames and the steady rhythm of your own heartbeat, loud in your ears as you sat so close, his arm still around your waist, his fingers barely pressing into your side, his hand holding your jaw like he wasn’t ready to let go.

“We’re friends, right?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, like saying it any louder would shatter the fragile thing hanging between you. You wanted to take the words back though. Trent wanted you to take them back. Why did you have to just say that?  And then slowly, his hand dropped from your jaw, slipping down to your thigh, retreating in defeat. You weren’t ready. He couldn’t kiss you. No matter how bad he wanted to. No matter how bad he knew you wanted him too.  Trent’s eyes flickered, his jaw tightening for just a second. He nodded slowly, lips parting before he caught himself.

“Mmm.” He hummed, but it wasn’t agreement. It was longing, an ache for something entirely opposite. The silence stretched, thick and unbearable. Then, quietly, hesitantly, he asked, “Think I can have that photo?” 

 “Hm?” You blinked at him heartbroken by your own question moments ago. Why did you push him away when it felt so right?

“The one I took,” he clarified, his voice unreadable. Your fingers twitched against the camera in your lap. 

“Oh,” you exhaled, not confused by the request itself but by what it meant. What it could mean. “Do you… want it?” He nodded, gaze steady on yours. “It’ll take a minute, you know. To develop,” you added, fumbling, stalling, maybe trying to put him off.

“I want it.” His voice was quiet, firm. “And I’ll wait.” The weight of his words crashed into you, heavier than they should have been. He wasn’t just talking about the film. He was saying something else, something deeper. He’d wait. For you. His eyes searched yours, silently begging you to understand. And you did. More than you probably let on. But still, you only nodded, scared. “The second one, Y/N,” Trent muttered, almost like an afterthought, but it wasn’t. Your breath hitched. 

“No, T…  I don’t even know how I—I wasn’t ready, why…” You trailed off, your voice unsure, pleading. You weren’t sure if your heart could take this, if you could keep pretending you were just friends when he was making it really fucking hard.

“Because.” He sighed, taking his hand off your thigh to rub over his jaw before finally meeting your gaze again. “That’s my Y/N... The one I lost.”  You felt your chest tighten, breath shuddering.

“Didn’t lose me.”  You whispered. His? Were you ever his? Did he think you were? But your voice wavered, because maybe he had lost you. Maybe you didn’t want it to be true, but it kind of was. Trent shut his eyes briefly, exhaling through his nose like the words hurt more than they should have. “Just…” You tried, but you didn’t even know what you were trying to say. You didn’t know why it felt so complicated, why it felt so intense, why you knew that if you let yourself have this moment, if you let yourself fall, you could end up saying I love you tonight.

“I hurt you,” Trent filled the silence, his voice laced with regret. “I know.” He sighed, looking at you like he could physically see the damage he’d done. And he did know. He got it, but he had plans. He was gonna play the long game. He wasn’t giving up.

“T…” you whispered, your throat tight with emotion. You were trying to ask for something you weren’t sure you were allowed to anymore. Not when you pushed him away like this. 

“Mhmm?” He hummed, tilting his head slightly. Your lips parted, but the words never came. You wanted to say something, maybe to tell him not to do this, not to make you feel like this, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t say it, because deep down, you didn’t want him to stop. And he knew that. You wanted to just ask for a hug. “C’mere, baby,” he murmured, pulling you into him. You didn’t fight it because it was exactly what you wanted. You let yourself fall against him, your face pressed into his neck, his arms wrapping around you like they belonged there. And maybe they did. He knew what you were asking. You didn’t need to say anything. Trent could read you, always had been able to. And in your own way, you were begging him to stay. So he did. And the way your body melted into his was a silent agreement. Maybe this wasn’t easy. Maybe it wouldn’t be for a long time. But somehow, in some way, you both needed proof that you could be here first—as friends, as something softer—before either of you could risk more. Before either of you could fall all the way.

—

The fire crackled, sending the same embers that sparked between you and Trent floating into the thick late winter air. Laughter hummed through the night, weaving between the flickering shadows cast by the bonfire. The scent of burning wood mixed with the lingering traces of cologne and liquor-warmed skin, a heady combination that made the air feel heavier. One of Leon’s other friends arrived late, his voice cutting through Campbell’s, mid story. You glanced around—every seat around the fire had been claimed. Evidently even Foster’s additive seating was under calculated. Without a second thought, you shifted forward.

“Here, I’ll move,” you offered, rising from your spot closest to the house. “I’ll go grab another chair.”

“No, Y/N, it’s fine! Lee, go,” Foster chirped from her seat, but before you could process her words, you felt it. The weight of a stare. Trent. Your eyes found his, and something dangerous flickered in his gaze—something slow, something greedy. He barely looked at the empty space, his attention locked entirely on you. The words floating in the air before he even wrapped his brain around their intention.

“Y/N, come sit with me till Cam’s done with her story,” he cooed, his voice smooth, dripping with an intent that curled around you like smoke. A ruse. A trap.  Everyone at the fire pit knew it, too. If you sat with Trent, you weren’t getting up after Campbell’s story. Your lips parted slightly, instinctively seeking an approval from someone other than your aching heart, and your gaze flicked to Foster, silently pleading for some kind of lifeline. She smiled sympathetically. 

“Yeah, just sit with T! We’ll get another chair in a bit.” Her words filled the air with opportunity, sealing your fate before you could even decide it for yourself. Trent leaned back against his chair, eyes half-lidded, entirely unbothered by the spectacle. He lifted his chin, nodding you over lazily. 

“C’mere.” Low. Rough. Only for you. Your stomach fluttered, heat blooming up your spine as you hesitated for only a second before stepping forward. His eyes never left yours, even as you lowered yourself onto his lap, your body molding against his like it was meant to be there. The second you settled, his arm curled around your waist, locking you into place in a way that felt too easy, too natural. Foster rolled her eyes at the obviousness of it all, but you barely noticed. You weren’t even listening to Campbell’s story as she continued on. You weren’t listening to anything. Time blurred, the fire shrinking to a distant glow. The voices around you became background noise, like the static hum of a song you weren’t paying attention to. All you felt was him. The slow, absentminded circles his thumb drew on your waist. The way his other hand settled heavy on your thigh, fingers splayed, warm, claiming. The way his chest rose and fell against you, steady, grounding, like you were meant to be right there. The way his plump lips moved when he spoke, slow and deliberate, and the way your eyes shamelessly tracked them, entranced. The scent of him—clean but edged with smoke, intoxicating in the worst way. And god, the way his fingers flexed just slightly, tightening on your thigh like he knew. Like he felt it too. It was suffocating and electric all at once. You swallowed, your cheek resting against his shoulder as you forced yourself to attempt to focus on the conversation swirling around you, but it was useless. Trent had you exactly where he wanted you, and deep down, you knew it was exactly where you wanted you– you were never going to get up after Campbell’s story.

–

The night air carried a crisp chill, weaving through the back garden, making the flames flicker and dance. You shivered. Not much, just enough for Trent to notice. His grip on you tightened instinctively, his body against yours. Then he turned his face slightly, just enough that when your eyes met, it felt like a slip, a near-collision, the space between you too small, too charged. Panic flickered in your chest. Words rushed out to fill the space before your lips could.

“Sorry. cold.” You whispered apologetically. He smirked, a slow, knowing curve of his lips, and adjusted in the seat beneath you. The subtle lift of his hips had your stomach twisting, your pulse quickening in places you didn’t want to acknowledge. But then, he leaned back and peeled off the jacket draped over his hoodie, and everything stilled. “T…” Your voice softened, barely above the crackling of the fire. You weren’t asking for his coat. You didn’t need it. You’d survive. Trent only shook his head. 

“Nah, it’s calm. I’m alright—wouldn’t offer otherwise,” he murmured, voice low and sure, meant for you alone. It was sweet, sincere. And then, so effortlessly, so fucking tenderly, he wrapped it around your shoulders, his hands lingering for just a second too long before he pulled you back into him. He slouched further back in the chair again, settling beneath you, arms still draped lazily, but firmly around your frame. And then you slipped. Without thinking, without hesitation, your body responded before your mind could catch up. Arms curling around his waist, your cheek pressing into his chest, your fingers gripping onto his hoodie like instinct. Like something you’d always done. Like something you weren’t supposed to still do.

“Thank you,” you whispered, but you were so close, too close, that your lips brushed the column of his throat, and Trent’s breath hitched. He hummed—deep, rough, strained. You felt it more than you heard it, the vibration thrumming through his chest as his hands flexed on your waist. He shifted slightly, adjusting, but you could feel it. The tension. The restraint. Trent was fighting demons. Because you were in his lap, your breath on his neck, your hands gripping him like you belonged there, like you weren’t afraid of the way his body responded to yours. And god, if you stayed here much longer, he was going to break. But the party faded. The cold didn’t exist. The fire became nothing but a glow in your periphery. There was just Trent. Just the warmth of his body beneath you, the scent of him wrapped around you, the way his fingers pressed into your waist like he needed to remind himself that this was real. That you were real. And as the night stretched on, as the conversations blurred into a background hum, you stayed right there. Both of you knowing—neither of you were supposed to, but neither of you wanted to move.

—

The night wrapped around you in a hazy, firelit glow, but none of it compared to the warmth of him—the weight of Trent’s hands on you, the heat of his breath at your ear.

"Still cold?" His voice was a whisper, low and unhurried, his lips ghosting your temple like a promise. His fingers squeezed your thigh, a teasing pressure that sent a shiver rippling up your spine.

"A little," you murmured, refusing to turn toward him, refusing to let him see how much he was affecting you. This was a game. A careful, coy thing. If you kept it subtle, no one would notice. No one would catch on to the whispers, the glances, the lingering touches that felt anything but innocent.

"Wanna go inside?" His voice was smooth, controlled, but you could feel the tension beneath it, the way his body had been humming with restraint all night. Your heart stuttered. Every nerve in your body screamed yes. In your mind, you were already making out with him, letting him press you into the nearest surface—but in reality, at Leon’s birthday party, you gave him the smallest, quietest nod. And then, before you could process it, Trent shifted. His grip on your thigh tightened, and in one effortless motion, he pulled your leg completely over his lap, situating you nearly astride him. Your breath caught in your throat. Heat flooded your body, a slow, molten ache curling in your stomach. But you couldn’t even process it before he moved again. 

"Yo, we’re going inside. Too cold," Trent called out casually, standing up with you in his arms as if it was nothing. As if he hadn’t just changed the temperature of the entire night with one move. You felt like you were going to fall, too weak from the shift of his hold on you and your heart stuttering too fast, your arms not ready for him to stand.  Your legs locked around his waist instinctively, your hands draping over his shoulders fast but smooth. Still, as your breath hitched as you tried to untangle yourself, to slide down and find your footing, Trent only readjusted his hold—his arms locking under you tighter, like he had no intention of letting you go. No one said a word. There were some nods, a few disinterested glances, but the people closest to you? The ones that knew there was nothing disinteresting about this. They were locked in. Watching. Taking in the shift, the unspoken tension.

"Gonna carry me the whole way?" you whispered, a quiet tease but far from a rebuttal, tucking your face into the crook of his neck, hiding from the knowing looks of Campbell and Foster you knew were behind you. Trent hummed, a deep, rumbling sound, and kept walking toward the house. What he wanted to say was, ‘no, I have no idea what I just did. I was trying to practice restraint and you’re killing me.’ But what he also really didn’t understand was why he just did that. He didn’t know why he even offered to go inside alone with you. Because as he looked at the glowing door ahead, it felt like a death wish.

—

The door clicked shut behind you, muffling the distant hum of the friends outside. The warmth of the house wrapped around you both, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating off Trent as he carried you effortlessly through Leon’s place. He made his way to the living room, dropping onto the sofa with a groan, like he’d just run ninety minutes at Anfield, taking you with him—no hesitation, no intention loosening his hold on your body and on your heart. You sat up slightly, shifting in his lap as you peeled off his jacket, taking your own coat with it. The moment you were left in just your little top, Trent’s breath hitched. It was subtle, barely there, but you caught it—the sharp inhale, the way his fingers flexed on your hips, like he had to physically restrain himself.

“Want your coat back?” you asked softly, your voice dipping between playfulness and something heavier. You were straddling him, and it was dangerous. Trent’s eyes flickered with something unreadable before his lips curled into that signature smirk. 

“Nah, I’m all good. You’re not still cold?” His voice was laced with something teasing, taunting—like he was onto you. Like he knew. Knew that maybe you weren’t as cold as you said. Knew that maybe you just wanted him to hold you. Knew that maybe he wanted all of this just as much as you did. You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips as you slid off to the side of him, still close, still touching, still too much. Your arms wrapped around his waist instinctively, and though straddling him had felt reckless, this—your leg slung lazily over his thigh, your palm sliding over his covered abs, your body still tucked into his—felt just as dangerous.

“I’m okay now,” you murmured, letting yourself sink into him. “Grab that blanket for me though.” He nodded calmly reaching for the throw beside you two but the request sent a wildfire through Trent’s chest. You were staying. You weren’t pulling away. You weren’t leaving. You wanted to be here. With him.

“Good. So you gonna bundle up next time?” He whispered, grabbing the blanket and wrapping it around you both. His arms found their place around you again, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Mmm” You shrugged. “I’ve got you though,” you mumbled, nuzzling your nose into his chest, letting his scent consume you—woodsy, clean, mixed with the lingering smoke from the fire. Trent exhaled, his grip on you tightening. 

“Yeah… you’ve got me.” He smirked against the top of your head, his voice dropping, rough and low.

-

The moment the door shut behind you and Trent, a hush fell over the group around the fire. For a second, they just blinked at each other, processing what had just happened. Then—

“So… do we—” Foster started, looking around, unsure of how to proceed with a cheeky giggle.

“I mean,” Leon exhaled, shaking his head with a smirk. “They clearly wanted to be alone.”

“As if that wasn’t obvious,” Campbell scoffed with a victorious smile. She wanted you alone with Trent. “Man literally carried her inside.” 

“Nah, honest though… we all know he’s in love with her, right?” Kieran leaned forward, eyes flicking toward the house before settling back on the group. It’s not like there had been verbalized confirmation from either of you as much as it was just shown, and all your friends knew it, they felt it.

“Obviously,” Campbell deadpanned.

“It’s actually a little ridiculous,” Foster added, shaking her head. “He’s an idiot but she’s being naive. Trent acts like she personally invented the sun and stars and she’ll tell you he’s just being "nice."” She smiled knowingly. Your friends could never understand the semantics of why you and Trent couldn’t just iron it all out, and honestly, you barely did. But from the outside looking in, it appeared a seamlessly simple task.

“It’s so obvious,” Leon laughed. “He’ll try to act like he isn't but he’s an absolute melt for her. He doesn’t shut up about her either, drunk, sober, doesn’t matter. It’s her…”  He rolled his eyes about how stupid his friend had been acting. “We all see the way he looks at her? Forget astronomy, Fos. She’s something Trent cares about. She’s the last minute of stoppage time and he’s got one shot to win the whole thing.”

“That’s poetic,” Kieran nodded, teasing Leon but it also was fact. No matter how hard Trent tried, he no longer was the same guy he was. The composition of his whole galaxy was you now, and a hundred and five yards of a football pitch felt small in comparison now. 

“It’s also sad,” Foster countered. “Because she likes him back. She’s just fighting it for whatever reason.” Campbell exhaled a soft laugh.

“Yeah, fighting a battle she already lost, because she caves instantly. That wasn’t exactly a protest.” She smiled recalling watching you and Trent all night, watching you dating all the way back to when she introduced you two in Ibiza; like two magnets unable to repel.

“Think anything’s happening in there?” Kieran asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Grow up, lad.” Leon rolled his eyes with a hearty laugh. 

“I mean, Trent’s got the patience of a saint when it comes to her evidently because since he fucked up… I don’t think that’s happening,” Foster said thoughtfully but she wasn't going to let his friends know just how hurt you were by him.

“And rightfully so, he doesn’t deserve it.” Campbell added similarly because the truth was, all of your friends knew the situation, you barely needed words, it was in the air.

“True… is shitty behavior but also, if she whispers in his ear one more time, he’s gonna need divine intervention.”  Kieran smirked. Everyone laughed, fully aware that the next time they saw you and Trent, you’d probably try to act normal, as if nothing had changed. But it had. Even in the handful of times they’d all seen you two interact, the shift had been obvious. They didn't need to see behind closed doors, it was out in the open.

“One hundred percent when we go inside, they’ll both be flustered,” Campbell grinned. “Like, ‘oh, we just talked, nothing happened.’” She mimicked your voice dramatically. "T, pretending like his hands haven't been glued to her." She giggled.

“Trent’s gonna look like he just fought for his life if nothing happens.” Kieran snickered. Leon chuckled, shaking his head. The group burst into laughter again, knowing full well that neither you nor Trent were fooling anyone, not even yourselves.

“All I’m saying is, if they don’t figure it out soon, one of us is gonna have to say something to one of them because they'll implode as "friends"" Foster smirked. “But until then...” Foster dragged her words, raising her drink. “I’m just happy we get to witness the slowest burn of the century unfold in real time.”

“To Y/N and Trent. The worst-kept secret of the year.” Leon clinked his drink against hers, kissing her temple.  

—-

[Melting- Kali Uchis]

Your phone buzzed against your pillow, the screen illuminating the dark room. Trent. Your heart lurched at the sight of his name, and for a split second, you hesitated. You weren’t supposed to be this eager, this giddy, but you were. You were meant to be taking space, to be friends—and yet, here you were, clutching your phone like it held something vital. Still, you hesitated before answering. But then you did.

“Hi.” Your voice was soft, uncertain, like you weren’t supposed to be speaking to him this late. But it sounded like a siren to him. Trent didn’t speak for a second. You could hear him breathe, hear the hesitation thick in the air.

“Hey,” he finally murmured, voice low and a little rough, the word baby almost falling past his lips out of habit. There was something about the way he spoke though that made your stomach flip. There was silence, long enough that you thought maybe the call had dropped. 

“You okay?” you asked gently.

“Yeah.” But he exhaled shakily, and you knew he wasn’t. “I just… I feel stupid even asking… calling now.” He let out a dry chuckle, but it didn’t reach his voice.

“Ask what?” you prodded. Another pause.

“Do you—you wanna come over?” It was meek, so un-Trent. 

“Trent…” Your stomach clenched. You swallowed. 

“I know.” He cut you off quickly, like he was embarrassed he even said it out loud. ‘Fucking melt’ he cursed himself in his head. “I know. You don’t have to. It’s late, and I—I shouldn’t have called, just—” He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t need to. Because you knew why. You’d watched every minute of his match this evening, glued to your TV, your chest aching every time the camera caught him, your heart clenching when the final whistle blew. A loss. A hard one. You’d felt awful—not just because of the result, but because of how badly you wanted to reach out, to just say something. But you didn’t. Instead, you spent the last hour typing and deleting messages, second-guessing yourself, because you were the one pushing to be just friends. Because it wasn’t your place. Yet somehow, hearing his voice now, the hesitation laced between the syllables, the way he sounded like he regretted calling the second you answered… it undid you. You opened your mouth, searching for something to say—something rational, something that would put distance where it should be—but then— “Baby…” Desperate. It was soft, so quiet like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. But you heard it. And it broke you.

“…I’ll be there.” You exhaled shakily. No details. No questions. No hesitation. Just him. And that was enough.

-

The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen and the occasional creak of the house settling. The only light came from the dim glow of the tv, spilling into the room in streaks of colors and casting soft shadows along the walls. Everything about the space felt warm, cocooning, and intimate. But none of it compared to Trent beneath you. You were curled into him on the couch, his larger frame molding perfectly to yours, his body heat seeping into your skin. His arm lay heavy around your back, fingers idly tracing slow, absentminded shapes under the hem of your top. Every glide of his fingertips sent a whisper of electricity skittering up your spine, setting every nerve ending alight. The television sat ignored across the room, long forgotten, because the only thing that mattered in this moment was this—the way his chest rose and fell steadily under your cheek, the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips, the way he smelled of body wash, faint skin, and something inherently him. And yet, he was quiet. Too quiet. His body was exhausted beneath you, muscles still taut from the game, still vibrating with the weight of the loss. You hadn’t said much since you arrived, only the necessary pleasantries—a soft hello, a murmured thank you when he handed you a drink, the way his hand lingered on your waist when he pulled you in for a long, heavy hug at the door. Even now, as he held you close, as you melted into him, he hadn’t spoken much. You shifted slightly, your fingers ghosting over his stomach, feeling the way it tensed at your touch. His arm curled tighter around you in response, anchoring you to him, like he was afraid if he let go, you’d slip away.

“Was a shit game?” you finally murmured into his chest. He let out a long breath, the sound more of a sigh than an answer. 

“Mmhm, baby,” he hummed, voice thick with exhaustion. His fingers pressed into your back before smoothing over your skin again, lower this time, his touch firm. The word baby slipped from his lips so easily, so naturally, and it sent a dangerous kind of warmth unfurling in your stomach. But Trent was too lulled by you to bite his tongue, you were dragging him out of cautiousness and into his subconscious. His hand dipping dangerously low on your back and then dangerously too high. “Thank you for coming over.”  He murmured, his eyes fluttering shut. Trent needed this. Needed you and he didn’t care to fight it. He didn’t want to.

“Always.” You held him. Neither of you second guessed how good this felt. 

“Just didn’t feel like being alone.” He replied quietly just inhaling you, vulnerability in every syllable. Your arms tightened around him instinctively. 

“I know,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but you knew he felt it in the way your breath fanned against his neck. You felt it too—the way his body melted just a little more, the way his hand stilled on your back like he was memorizing the feel of you. Before you could think twice, you pressed a soft kiss to his chest, right over his heartbeat. It was instinctive, subconscious—something you hadn’t even meant to do. But the moment your lips met his chest, everything shifted. ‘Shit shit shit’ echoing on repeat in your head. Trent’s breath subtly hitched. His fingers flexed against your back, his entire body tensing beneath you. Your own breath caught in your throat, heat rushing to your cheeks, to the tips of your ears, to the place deep in your stomach that had been aching since the second you walked through his door. “Sorry…” you whispered, your voice unsure, nervous. You shifted in his hold like you were about to move away, to create some distance before this could turn into something you weren’t sure you were ready to face. But Trent didn’t let you. Instead, his grip on you tightened, his hand pressing into the small of your back, keeping you exactly where you were.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice a little rougher now, lower. And then, after a beat—“Can always kiss me.” Your stomach twisted, your entire body growing warmer. Trent’s heart felt so beyond full that you just kissed him. Maybe not his lips but it was a start.  

“Don’t say that,” you mumbled against his chest shyly, your lips curving slightly even as your heart pounded against your ribs. But he meant it. Every damn word. His fingers skimmed up your spine before sliding lower again, his touch reverent, like he needed to feel every inch of you. And then, slowly, his hand traveled lower, pulling your leg higher over his waist. A subtle movement, but one that sent a current of something heavy and dangerous crackling between you. Without thinking, you kissed his chest again—maybe on purpose this time. And Trent? He let out a slow, controlled breath through his nose, his grip on you tightening, his body pressing just a little closer to yours. Then, suddenly—

“We’re friends, right?” He whispered like a hot knife through butter. Maybe it was out of protection for himself but the words were teasing, laced with something playful, something cocky. But beneath it, there was something else. Something raw. You stilled. Your pulse thundered in your ears.

“Mmm.” It was the only sound you could manage, and instead of answering properly, you buried your face against his chest, hiding from the weight of the moment, from the truth that was pressing against you both. You hugged him tighter, feeling stupid. Stupid you came over. Stupid for cuddling. For kissing him. But nothing in this world could’ve pried you off of him, not even stupidity. 

“Gonna go all shy on me now?” Trent let out a soft chuckle, his hand smoothing up your back again, this time slow, careful. 

“No,” you mumbled, barely lifting your face from where it was tucked against him. “Just tired.”

“Mmhmm, alright,” he mused, amused, but satisfied. You weren’t the only one playing a game. Trent knew it too. You weren't stupid but neither was he—he could feel the way you reacted to him, the way you leaned into every touch, the way your body softened beneath his hands. Maybe it was unfair to invite you over, maybe he didn’t think this through all the way, maybe it was even selfish, but right now? Right now, he didn’t care, he couldn't think straight around you. You couldn’t resist him and he relished in that. “You wanna stay over?” he asked after a beat, his voice quieter now. You hesitated for half a second before nodding. You felt him exhale softly, relief washing over him. “Alright.” A pause. “Gonna fall asleep on me here or do you want one of the guest rooms?” You knew what the right answer was. You knew what the safe answer was. But still—

“Maybe here…” You whispered. His fingers tightened on your waist. 

“Mmhmm.” He hummed accepting your answer but then, before he could stop himself, before he could rethink it—“Or if—you know.” He offered feeling a fear he wasn't expecting. You swallowed. Your stomach clenched. You knew what he was implying.

“Not anything but a cuddle?” you asked, testing him. Testing yourself. Because, frankly, if he peeled your top over your head right now, you wouldn’t stop him, you’d help him take your bra off too.

“I know, so…” he prompted. You nodded silently. Trent exhaled through his nose, his smirk evident even in the dim light. His hand slid lower, firmer now, like he was staking his claim, like he was trying to tell you he knew exactly what he was doing to you, but communicated clearly that you knew exactly what you were doing to him. “Better be careful, baby,” he murmured, voice low, sultry, a lilt of smugness. “I could get used to this.” Your stomach flipped, your body aching with something you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge yet. And to be honest, so could you; his hands on your bare skin under your top and his curled pink lips had your heart pounding and somewhere south pulsing. Yeah, this wasn’t so bad… So instead, you just smiled softly against his chest and kissed him there again, drowning in the inevitability of what was to come because careful had gone out the window the second you first met him. 

—

You and Trent sleeping in the same bed as "friends" felt a little ridiculous… actually insane, really. You weren’t sure where to put your hands, if you should stay on your side of his bed, if he was regretting the invitation now that the reality of the night had arrived. He’d been quieter than usual since you arrived, the weight of the loss still lingering in the air between you. You knew better than to push, but lying stiffly next to him in the dim glow of his bedroom felt unnatural—like forcing a distance that neither of you wanted.

“T…?” Your voice was quiet, hesitant, as you turned toward him. “Want a cuddle?” You asked. Maybe to console him? Maybe because you just wanted him… either way Trent didn’t even hesitate. Without a word, he reached for you, pulling you into him with an ease that made the tension from before feel dumb, irrelevant. His arm slotted around your waist, strong and steady, his body warm against yours. And just like that, everything melted away. You’d never been more comfortable. But it was charged. So fucking charged. You could feel it in the way his fingers rested just under the hem of the shirt you’d stolen from him, his touch skimming absentminded circles over the small of your back. You could feel it in the way your lips brushed his bare chest—innocently, but not really. You weren’t even sure you realized you were doing it until you felt the inhales he took to steady himself. Trent said nothing, only held you tighter, letting his thumb stroke your skin like he wasn’t even thinking about it. You swallowed hard, your hand splaying against his ribs, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath. It was stupid, really, the restraint. The closeness. The way you both pretended this wasn’t something more, something undeniable. But at the same time, it was perfect.

-

The following morning was quiet, the kind of early stillness where the world hadn’t fully woken up yet. The soft hum of the kettle, the occasional sizzle of the pan, and the rhythmic clinking of a spoon against ceramic were the only sounds filling Trent’s kitchen. You stood by the stove, his shirt draped over your frame, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs. The fabric smelled like him—clean, warm, a little like whatever cologne still clung to it from it simply being his. Your hair was a little undone, sleep still heavy in your limbs, but you moved with familiarity, hands knowing exactly where to reach for the mugs, where he kept the milk, which drawer had the spoons. Trent sat at the kitchen island, silent, just watching. His elbows rested on the countertop, fingers loosely intertwined as his eyes followed your every move. He looked exhausted—hoodie thrown on over his bare chest, hood up, shadowing his sharp features. But there was something about the way he was looking at you, something soft, something completely infatuated. Domestic. This felt dangerously domestic. His gaze lingered on the way his shirt hung off one shoulder, the way you absently reached up to fix it, the way your legs moved, the way the soft morning light kissed your skin in. He could get used to this—waking up with you still there, hearing you in his kitchen, wearing his clothes, making him tea like it was second nature. He could definitely get used to this. And then the moment shattered with the sharp ring of your phone. Trent blinked, the haze of his sleepy infatuation interrupted. Your head snapped toward the sound, brows furrowing slightly. Across the counter, Trent smirked, stretching his arms over his head lazily as he glanced at your phone.

“Your mum’s calling.”  He muttered joking through a groan flexing his muscles. 

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes not believing him.  He didn’t move at first, just sat there, smirking at you, before finally pushing himself up and making his way over. He grabbed your phone from where it lay on the counter and extended it toward you. Campbell. 

“You’re dumb.” Your lips curled, shaking your head as you took the phone from his hand.  Trent grinned, but before you could answer, his arms looped around your waist from behind, pulling you back into his chest. His chin dipped, nose nudging against your neck as he hummed softly against your skin. You exhaled, relaxing into him instinctively, your body melting against his. You answered the call, balancing the phone between your ear and shoulder, still tending to the eggs for him in the pan.

“Hello?” You softly cooed. A pause. Then—

"YOU’RE AT TRENT’S?!" You winced, your entire body jolting from the sheer volume of Campbell’s scream. You forgot she had your location… an oversight in retrospect. Trent flinched too, letting out a quiet, ‘Jesus Christ.’ His forehead dropped to your shoulder, silent laughter shaking his chest against your back.

“Cam, hold on—” You groaned, pushing through your own laughter.

“I KNEW IT,” she shrieked, completely ignoring you. “I FUCKING KNEW IT.” You let out an exasperated sigh, reaching down to idly squeeze Trent’s arm where it was still wrapped around you. He just hummed, pressing a lazy, barely-there ‘not kiss’ kiss to the side of your neck before resting his chin on your shoulder, completely content.

“I have to go,” you told Campbell flatly, already knowing this conversation was going nowhere fast.

“No, no, no, don’t hang—” She babbled, attempting to keep you on the line. Click. Trent let out a breathy chuckle, his grip on you tightening slightly as he rocked you gently side to side, teasing. 

“That woke you up more than a cuppa, hm?” He smirked.

“Don’t start.” You laughed, tilting your head slightly toward him. He grinned, burying his face into your shoulder. Just as you settled back into each other, his body molding around yours, his warmth melting into you as you absently caressed his forearms wrapped tightly around your waist—

“Oh shit…” The deep voice from the doorway into the room made you freeze. Wrapped up in each other too entirely to be aware of your surroundings. “Sorry. I didn’t know you had anyone over, bro”  Trent’s arms loosened slightly, and you turned your head just enough to see Marcel standing there, looking as though he’d just walked into something he definitely wasn’t supposed to see. His jaw was slightly slack, eyes flicking between the two of you, taking in the way Trent was wrapped around you, the way you were tucked so easily into his chest. You didn’t move at first, but then—sizzle. The eggs. You quickly turned your attention back to the stove, flipping them before they burned, pretending your body hadn’t just gone stiff under Marcel’s surprised stare.

“Nah, all good.” Trent finally spoke, his voice casual, teasing letting one arm stay wrapped around you, dipping to hold your hip as he created a sliver of distance in defense. “You just coming to raid my fridge, lad?” Marcel blinked before laughing, shaking his head as he flicked his gaze back to you with a raised brow. And Trent? He just shook his head. A silent conversation between the brothers. No explanation. No justification. Just…this.

And so, without another word, the morning continued. You made eggs for three, setting plates down at the island while Marcel shot his brother pointed looks that Trent pointedly ignored. You sat across from them, sipping your tea, pretending you weren’t hyper-aware of the way Trent’s foot nudged against yours under the countertop. And then—just like that—you were out the door. Just Trent’s friend who had slept over.

—

Marcel leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, staring at his brother with an expression that was equal parts amused and incredulous. Trent was standing by the sink, rinsing out his mug like they were having a completely normal conversation—like he hadn’t just spent the morning wrapped around you, like you hadn’t been cooking in his kitchen, like you weren’t wearing his damn shirt.

“So…” Marcel finally broke the silence, tilting his head. “What the hell was that?” Trent didn’t look up, didn’t pause, didn’t even flinch. 

“What was what?” He replied. Marcel scoffed. 

“Are you two back together?” That made Trent glance up, his lips twitching, barely holding back the smirk threatening to take over his face. 

“We were never together.” He confirmed. True but also bullshit. Marcel rolled his eyes so hard he might’ve pulled something.

“So you’re telling me that you’re just friends?” Trent hummed, nonchalant, placing his mug on the drying rack.

“Yeah. Just friends.” But the smirk—the absolute smugness of it—was impossible to hide. Marcel burst out laughing, loud and unrestrained, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“You don’t even believe that.” He yelped.  Trent’s chest shook with a quiet chuckle, but he still shook his head, insisting, 

“We’re friends. We didn’t sleep together.” A half-truth. You had slept together—just not in the way Marcel was implying. 

“Trentski… you don’t do ‘friends.’” Marcel leaned forward, grinning like he was enjoying every second of this. 

“She is my friend.” He doubled down, never one to concede easily although he was lying through his teeth. 

“Never in the history of mankind have two people acted like you two did this morning and are just friends.” He lifted a hand, ticking things off his fingers. “You slept in the same bed, you “cuddled” all night,” He air quoted the word. “Which I also don’t believe and then this morning—bro, I walked in and you were all over each other in the kitchen like you've been married for five years.” Trent just hummed again, reaching for his phone like he was bored. Marcel wasn’t having it. “Mate, just say you like her.”

“I didn’t say I don’t like her!” Trent yelped, spinning around, finally giving Marcel his full attention. But that smug little grin was still there, still cocky, still so obvious. “I said she’s my friend.” Marcel squinted at him, crossing his arms tighter. 

“Yeah, but you don’t want her to be your friend.” Trent tilted his head slightly, the smirk deepening, his silence loud as hell. Marcel gawked at him. “Bro!” he yelped, exasperated. Trent just shrugged, turning back toward the counter, unfazed. 

“Long game, bro… long game.” His voice was sure, confident, dripping with the kind of arrogance that made Marcel roll his eyes so hard he had to look away. But Trent wasn’t entirely confident he knew this was a repercussion of his pride.

And so, that was the start of it all. Skirting around sex, but practically dating. Dinners, dates, alone time, all the time. A relationship in every sense except the one that put latex on and a label on.

—

Since then, in a crowded room, Trent always found a way to be near you. It was never obvious, never planned—just instinct. At Foster’s birthday party last month, he stood too close—one hand grazing the small of your back as he moved past, his arm thrown lazily around the back of your chair, like it was nothing. And you liked it that way. You never said it out loud, but he knew. He always knew.  

Trent called you without thinking. When he got his call-up for the Euros, before his brain even caught up, his thumb had already pressed your name. It rang once—twice—before you picked up, and only then did he realize he hadn’t considered calling anyone else. You realized it too. But neither of you said a word about it. Because it was obvious. Because that was just how it was.

He caught you off guard on the kind of day that lingered in your bones—the kind that dulled the light in your eyes, weighed heavy in your shoulders. You didn’t tell him. You didn’t have to. He just knew. And he didn’t fill the silence with empty words, didn’t try to fix what couldn’t be fixed. He just sat with you, his thigh pressed against yours, his pinkie grazing your hand, until the world didn’t feel so unbearable anymore.

He sent you things that no one else would have thought to send. A playlist, carefully curated—songs you loved, songs you had once mentioned offhand, songs he just knew would settle under your skin the right way. A snack you always grabbed from the corner shop. A text that read simply, ‘Know today was shit. I’ll shut up if you just want company.’ Never flowers though — he knew better than that because that would be too real. Only small things. But not really. Because over time, the small things became big things. Trent wasn’t just someone—he was the only one.

His presence seeped into your life like ink bleeding through paper, staining everything in its path. You slept at his home more than your own, and when you didn't, he was sleeping at your apartment more often than he didn’t when he was back in town. He’d go to bed achingly hard, his body coiled tight with restraint, but your soft breaths against his chest pacified him, and that was everything to him. He was the last number you called. The last text you sent. The last takeaway order had his name on it too. The sweatshirt you wore around all your friends was his. Your things lived in his ensuite, your scent clung to the leather seats in his car. You were everywhere. He breathed you in, drowned in you willingly, and didn’t want to come up for air.

You’d go out to dinner, and there was something so dangerous in the way it felt like a date when it wasn’t. When you walked back into the house, your lips got too close, your breaths mingled, your fingers twitched like they wanted to reach. But you both pulled away before you could fracture this perfect kind of peace you had created—this delicate, fragile thing you had built with careful hands. Because once you let go—once you let it happen—there would be no turning back. And that thought? It was terrifying. So you kept the bed you made. You stayed on your side, he on his. For now.

—

[No Idea - Don Toliver]

The edges of your friendship began to fray because it never was a friendship to begin with. It never had been. The club pulsed around you, neon lights flashing in dizzying waves of red and blue, bodies swaying in the humid air, music so loud it vibrated in your ribs. But none of it mattered—not the packed dance floor, not the overpriced drinks you weren’t sure who had even paid for, not even your friends who were somewhere nearby, probably casting knowing looks in your direction. Because Trent was beneath you, his strong thighs spread wide as you perched on his lap, your body melting into his like it was always meant to fit there. His hands were everywhere—fingertips pressing, kneading, tracing slow, lazy circles against the bare skin of your thighs, sneaking under the hem of your shorts  [ref index] just enough to tease. Your arms draped around his shoulders, fingers splaying up the fade of his hair at the nape of his neck, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear as you spoke only for him to hear you in the loud room or maybe to tease.

“I'm so hot in here,” you murmured, your voice lost in the thumping bass, your breath warm against his skin. Trent’s lips quirked up, and his grip on your thighs tightened. He wasn’t processing anything other than you. 

“You’re so fucking hot, baby.” He murmured, completely lost in you. You blinked before a drunken giggle bubbled out of you, your fingers tightening against his skin as you let your head drop against his. His hands, still heavy on your legs, twitched under your touch. 

“No,” you laughed, dropping your hands to place your smaller ones over his, pressing them into you as if to keep him there on you. “I said, the club is hot–” His smirk deepened, but before he could respond, the word, a pet name addressing him, slipped out of you—thoughtless, instinctual. “...baby.” Trent stilled beneath you for a second, his breath catching against your throat. Then, with a low chuckle, he ducked his face into your neck, hiding like you’d caught him off guard. But the moment only lasted a beat—because then his lips moved, brushing behind your ear, barely there, just a whisper of warmth and want.

“Both things are true though,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement, but deeper, darker with something else. Something that coiled low in your stomach and made your fingers tighten in his curls. “You are hot, club is too.” You giggled, fully, freely, leaning back just enough to meet his eyes in the flickering club lights. He was already looking at you, gaze slow and syrupy, sliding over your face like he wanted to drink you in. Like he didn’t care about anything else in the world but you—because truthfully, neither of you did. His hands inched higher, his thumbs tracing slow, lazy patterns against your skin. His lips hovered dangerously close, his breath warm and thick with whatever he’d been drinking. And the world could’ve burned around you, the music could’ve cut out, the club could’ve caved in—but none of it would’ve mattered. Because in that moment, Trent was the only thing that did.

-

The club was a blur of the heat you’d complained about and noise, a dark haze of neon and bodies, but Trent was the only thing in focus. His touch, his scent, the way his lips lingered too close to your skin—it was intoxicating, a dangerous game you weren’t sure you wanted to win or lose. You shifted further into his embrace, turning to straddle his thigh properly, your shorts riding up slightly as you settled against him. His breath hitched just a little, barely noticeable over the bass reverberating through the room, but you caught it. You felt it in the way his hands tightened around you.

“No, seriously, baby…” You purred. “Aren’t you hot?” you murmured, your fingers trailing over his chest, feeling the heat of his body through the fabric of his jumper. You pressed your palms against it, feeling the definition beneath, the slow, steady rise and fall of his breath. Trent was in a sweatshirt while you were in clothes reserved for clubs or warmer weather, it was an earnest question but honestly, maybe not at all. Then, teasingly, your nails scraped up the fade of his hair again and Trent shivered. He exhaled a slow, amused breath, a lazy, sexy smirk tugging at his lips. 

“Little bit,” he admitted, his voice thick, deep, laced with something dark and amused. His fingers flexed against your thigh, the other hand creeping up your waist, teasing but firm. “I have a feeling I’m gonna need a cold shower tonight.”  He told you, inferring it wasn’t the temperature of the room causing the warmth it was you all over him, sending him spiraling.  You hummed, leaning in, your lips ghosting the shell of his ear, only so he could hear you - of course- your own smirk growing. 

“Mmm. I can't wait to shower.” You dragged the words out just enough, watching as his jaw flexed. Then, before you could think twice, you added a subconscious thought, a desire, slippier from the liquor. “Bet you look good in the shower, T.” His pupils blew wide. His grip on your waist tightened. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he stared at you, gaze dripping in greed and hunger. His hand, the one kneading your thigh, flexed possessively, the other dragging up your side, slipping beneath the silk of your top just enough to feel your bare skin, gripping you like he needed something to hold on to.

“I know you’d look fucking unreal wet,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous, like he was walking the very edge of his restraint. Then, teasing, smirking, he added, “Maybe someday I’ll get lucky.” Your heart stuttered in your chest. You were too close. Too close. Your lips hovered, the heat between your bodies unbearable, the tension unbearable, his hands burning you alive. And for a moment, for a split second, you almost caved. He almost caved. But sexual chemistry had never been your issue. The problem wasn’t whether you wanted each other—you knew you did, that much was undeniable. No, the real challenge was restraint. Could you do that? And if you could make it out of this club without tearing each other apart, maybe that was more of a win than getting you into bed. For now.

—

[Time's Up - Kacy Hill ft. 6LACK]

The moment you settled into the car, the low murmur of the music and the soft hum of the tires against the road lulled you into a comfortable haze. The night had been long—the heat of the club, the closeness of Trent, the weight of your own exhaustion pressing into you.  You’d told everyone you two were heading out, too tired to continue on, but provided no explanation as to why you needed to leave together.  But they didn’t ask – not even a cheeky joke, it was obvious… at least to them. You blinked slowly, your head tipping into Trent's shoulder, but before you could drift off, Trent’s voice, low and soothing, cut through the quiet.

“Baby, don’t fall asleep on me,” he murmured, his arm draped along the back of the seat, his fingers tracing absentmindedly along your shoulder. You hummed in response, barely coherent, and a moment later, you felt his hand slide down, finding your thigh, his thumb stroking slow, lazy circles. The car was dimly lit, the occasional flash of streetlights illuminating his face, catching the soft curve of his lips as he looked down at you. You must have fully dozed off at some point, because the next thing you felt was Trent’s fingers tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his voice a gentle whisper. “Hey, made it home, beautiful,” he said softly. That alone should’ve been an indicator– home. Not his place, no, somewhere you two shared so much time together lately it was dubbed home for both of you. You blinked up at him, still hazy with sleep, and before you could move, his hand was already under your chin, coaxing you awake. “C’mon,” he urged with a small smile, reaching for the car door as he murmured a quick thanks to the Uber driver. Your limbs were heavy with sleep, but Trent was already there, sliding an arm around your waist as he helped you out of the car, keeping you steady against his side.

“I can walk,” you mumbled sleepily, though you made no effort to move away from him, in fact you hugged your body into his.

“I know,” he teased, pressing a kiss to your temple as he guided you up to his front door. “But I like taking care of you.” By the time you were inside, you had woken up just enough to stretch lazily, watching as Trent kicked off his trainers, reaching for your hand again without even thinking. His touch was instinctual, grounding, as if letting you go wasn’t an option.

“You shower first,” you told him, already making yourself comfortable in his room, too drunk, too tired from the mental gymnastics of restraint you’d practiced all night as you slipped out of your heels. He gave you a look, like he wanted to argue, but you just gestured toward the ensuite. “I’m serious, T. Go.” You giggled. With a dramatic sigh, he disappeared into the bathroom, and you sank back against his bed, closing your eyes for a moment, letting the distant sound of running water fill the room. You peeled off your own clothes, pulling the silk ties of your top undone and you ached. You wanted him to do that, causing a subconscious drunk pout to form on your face. Reluctantly you nestled into your shirt for bed, well it was his, but it had become yours with every night you spent here. When he finally emerged, towel slung low on his hips, his skin was still damp, the scent of his body wash lingering in the air. He reached for a sleek white bottle with a rounded black top, blanche Byredo body lotion, it was him encapsulated, from his dresser. The smell of it tightening like a noose around your neck. He began to rub the product over his arms, his broad shoulders flexing with the movement as he took a seat on a boucle bench at the end of his bed. You sat up slightly, watching him, something warm unfurling in your stomach as he dragged his hands over his chest, spreading the lotion across his golden skin tiredly.

“Baby, come here,” you offered, voice soft but certain. It just flowed and neither of you could stop it. Neither of you wanted to. Trent turned and looked back at you, a small smirk tugging at his lips. You crawled across the mattress towards him, taking the bottle without a word, settling perched on the bed behind him. You pumped some lotion into your hands, rubbing it between your palms, warming it, before smoothing it over his shoulders. The second your hands met his skin, he exhaled slowly, his head lolling slightly to the side. It was supposed to be helpful, just a favor - sort of. But it lingered. Your hands moved over him with slow, deliberate strokes, massaging him, your thumbs pressing into the knots at his shoulders before gliding down the expanse of his back, up his neck, around his ribs. He was warm beneath your touch, solid, and every time your fingers traced over his skin, he let out a quiet, satisfied sigh. It felt intimate in a way you hadn’t anticipated but should've—charged yet comfortable, like you’d done this a hundred times before. When you finally finished, you stayed behind him, draping your arms lazily over his shoulders, your cheek pressing to the damp curve of his neck. “All good now?” you purred.

“Mhmm. Thank you.” His voice was thick, almost dazed, but then—“Can you be a good girl for me tonight?” Your breath caught. The words too familiar, too loaded. He turned slightly, his lips hovering just inches from yours, the weight of it settling deep in your stomach. You nodded slow. “Don’t tease me too much tonight in bed…” He exhaled, voice rough, strained and yet strangely earnest. Was he finally going to cave, to want you back in this way? Would you let him? “I’m losing…” He took a deep breath, feeling a wave of vulnerability far more intense than he was expecting. “My ability to restrain myself here, beautiful.” His pout almost beginning to curl. His eyes bore into yours. Your heart pounded as your nails dragged lightly over his chest subconsciously, watching the way he tensed beneath your touch.

“I’ll be a good girl for you tonight…” you whispered, and the smirk that ghosted over his lips was downright sinful. He shifted slightly, leaning in, but you stopped him with a soft murmur. “Only if you promise to let that restraint go eventually.” Trent stilled, considering you, his fingers finding your chin, his thumb tracing over your bottom lip.  His gaze was dark, heated, but his smirk was slow, teasing.

“My restraint is already gone,” he murmured, voice like velvet. “You just tell me when you’re ready.”  And if possible, not kissing you, might’ve been the sexiest thing he’d ever done.

•

Thank you for reading! Welcome to my new fic 'Aperture' I really hope you enjoy this chapter and look forward to what's ahead!

PLEASE PLEASE Please like, comment, or message what you think!!!

Next part - Chapter 10 - Tangled Tension

📷 🪩 💄 🤍 🎞️ 🎱🍸 💷

[aealzx]

Working on Raph’s leg with Don was a fascination that left Leon grinning constantly behind his surgical mask. He’d seen so many videos, but those didn’t compare to the real thing. And with Don there almost all of the stress of the procedure was gone. Pushing back the muscle, clamping it in place, using saline to clean the wound and critically inspect it for residual debris. All the while Don was calmly talking him through the steps, letting Leon learn at the same time. It took hours to get the injury clean, stabilized, packed with antibiotics, and wrapped up, but Leon hardly noticed. Even the enthusiastic chatter beyond the curtain couldn’t distract him from Don’s directions.

“Aaaand we’re done,” Don’s concluding comment came as soon as Leon secured the final bandage wrapping in place. It was such a stark contrast from before to have the clean, beige colored bindings around Raph’s now straight leg, but Leon was mostly feeling like they hadn’t spent nearly enough time to fix that mess.

“Wait- really?” Leon asked, gaze snapping up to look at Don.

Don could only chuckle, having been incredibly impressed by Leon’s single minded focus the entire time. He was hardly surprised at the question now. “Yes- But! Let’s clean up everything else before we pull the curtain down. Okay?” he confirmed, reaching out a hand to block Leon from snatching the curtain excitedly, then gesturing to the bloodied mess of tools around them.

“O’oh… Right,” Leon laughed weakly, the mess fully registering in his mind now as he looked around. It could have been a lot worse, but it would probably still be alarming for others to see. At least it didn’t take too long to clean up the area. The tools and other bloodied items were placed in a bin to take back to the sinks to be washed and sterilized. Then the areas that couldn’t be moved easily were wiped down with antiseptic soaked cloths, and their surgical coverings taken off. Only then did Don give Leon the go ahead to pull the curtain back.

Beaming with an excited smile, Leon poked his head around to look at the others. “Hey Raphie,” he beckoned, noting how April was dozing like a cat curled up around Raph’s head as he and Raphael were a little more quietly watching movies on a tablet Leo had fetched for them.

“Yeah?” Raph asked immediately, shifting his gaze over to Leon. He was exhausted, it was easy to tell. But Leon was expecting that considering none of them had really had proper sleep in the past day and more.

Flinging the curtain aside with a dramatic flair, keeping it held out of the way, Leon beamed proudly. “All done!” he chimed.

Raph took a moment to fully register what Leon was showing him, but then twitched into a half sit up with a small gasp. “Ohmigosh, Raph’s okay!” Raph hushed, sitting up fully and awkwardly jerking his still numb leg towards himself. “I hardly noticed. That’s amazing Leo!”

The movement roused April fully out of her dose, and she quickly oriented herself with a glance around before focusing on the bandages as well. “Woah! Heeeyy lookit that big guy!” April added to the cheers, wrapping her arms around Raph’s bicep and shaking him a little.

“Heheee,” Leon chuckled, rubbing his nose and basking in the praise. “Just be careful still. You still shouldn’t walk on it, so we’ll have to find some crutches for you. How are you feeling?”

“...Mostly just hungry now,” Raph admitted, giving a sheepish smile. His leg didn’t hurt, he couldn’t even feel it. And the medicine and IV fluids helped the fever and rest of his aches. Now he just needed to fill his empty stomach. And probably get some sleep. “And sleepy,” he added, ending up causing himself to yawn after voicing the feeling.

“That’s good. We’ll see about getting you to a bed, and get some food for you,” Leon chuckled, ignoring his own stomach protesting its gaping emptiness.

“Allow me to be of assistance with that.”

The new voice caused the three newest visitors to whip their heads towards the entrance of the infirmary where Leatherhead and Mikey were entering with trays full of food in various dishes. Leatherhead had been the one to speak, and definitely caught the teens’ attention.

“WOAH!” April blurted.

“Ohmigosh you’re STILL SO COOL!” Leon gushed, being kept in place only by politeness and his irritated knee. He remembered Leatherhead from when he first got there, but he hadn’t been able to appropriately address him then.

“Ohhhhh…. You’re bigger than Raph is,” Raph noted, a coo very similar to Lil Mikey’s leaving his mouth as his eyes also shined with awe.

Leatherhead could only chuckle in mildly confused embarrassment, not used to people being drawn to him favorably in any manner. Normally people were either scared of him, or aggressive towards him. It was a lovely change, even if he wasn’t sure how to handle it.

“Sounds like we have perfect timing. Who’s ready for… well I guess it’s breakfast now, huh?” Mikey chimed in, laughing at the kids’ antics towards their friend. They must not be used to seeing a crocodile mutant. “I was starting to get worried all my work was gonna go to waste. I had to warm it back up,” Mikey chuckled, pausing at an unmarked distance away from the surgery area. He’d been scolded too many times by Don for bringing food where surgery was done.

“You wanna get the kid this time, Leatherhead? I can take the food,” Raphael offered, getting to his feet to take the tray. He could easily lift Raph, but he still understood it would probably be more comfortable for him if someone the same size or bigger than him picked him up.

“It would be my pleasure,” Leatherhead agreed, letting Raphael take the tray before approaching the others and kneeling in front of them. “My apologies for not introducing myself sooner. Normally I assist Donatello with surgery, but as the role was already sufficiently fulfilled I didn’t want to crowd. My name is Leatherhead. Am I correct in assuming you two are also known as Raphael and Leonardo?”

“Pff- yeah, but, Leo is fine,” Leon huffed with a smile, mildly uncomfortable with the use of his full name. “Or Nardo as Donnie likes to say. Leon. Face man. Anything but my full name. I feel like I’m in trouble.”

The response ended up earning a snicker from Raphael, giving Leo a nudge as he brought up the rear with another tray of food. “There’s a welcome change,” he teased, earning a slight glare from Leo.

“Wait- did I hear that right? Face man?” Mikey asked, excitement bubbling under the surface.

“Well yeah. Who else would you put in the front but the one with the best looks,” Leon confirmed, framing his face with his hands and raising his chin with a dashing smile.

The flaunting earned snickers from April, and a fond smile from Raph. But Raphael let out a loud honk laugh as Leo’s expression scrunched in disoriented confusion. “Oh my gosh, it’s like Leo and I got spliced!” Mikey laughed, beaming from ear to ear. “I like this Leo. I like him a lot.”

As the others messed around a little, Leatherhead looked back to April to finish introductions before he moved Raph. “May I ask your name, little miss?”

Giving a chuckle at how polite Leatherhead was, April nodded, reaching her hand out for a handshake. “Sure. April O’Neil. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Leatherhead.”

The response was mildly surprising, and Leatherhead chuckled as he gently took her hand. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss O’Neil.”

“You’re remarkably well adjusted to… all of this,” Leo admitted, rolling his head at everything since his hands were full.

“Well yeah, it’s pretty much normal for me,” April answered. “I’ve known these guys since I was eight, we grew up together. And things just kept getting crazier and crazier as we got older. Dimension hopping is probably up there with finding out we had a whole hidden city under New York. It’s just another place to go.” She gave a shrug, scooting out of the way as Leatherhead scooped Raph up after getting permission to do so from him while she had been talking to Leo.

“Oh… I see,” Leo blinked, having so many answers to unasked questions in his head given. That explained a lot about all of their behavior. “Do they… walk around on the surface then? Among people?”

“Uhhh no… Not really. We still stick to non populated areas just in case. But if we do get caught we just pretend we’re going to a science convention and they’re all dressed up in cosplay,” April explained, trying to converse with Leo but inevitably getting distracted again. “Hang on, I gotta get pics of this too,” she excused, digging her phone out of her dress pocket and scooting off the table.

Unlike the last time he’d been picked up Raph had no fear of squishing the one carrying him, and therefore was much less tense. Leatherhead had scooped him up under his knees and back, and Raph could only tuck his hands close to his chest as a big smile squished his cheeks. It was a foreign feeling, but it was actually kind of nice. Just being slung around so gently. Moving somewhere without having to go there himself. It was bringing back faint memories of Splinter carrying him to bed a very long time ago, and he felt he could understand now why his little brothers loved to climb on him so much.

“Gosh, picked up twice in one day. You’re gonna get spoiled here Raph,” Leon laughed, squeezing in next to Raph to beam a smile at the camera as April took a picture of them. Looking down at the short she got, April had to coo a little at the adorable smile and tiny wave Raph had given her. He really was enjoying himself. “You can put him with Mikey,” Leon directed, guiding Leatherhead over to where Lil Mikey was drooling on the pillow.

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I rushed a lil on the last bits of the pic so I could get it up today X'D So excuse if there are missing details |D

This was my first time drawing a crocodile face, and Leatherhead ended up looking like a nice grandpa to me X'DD oh well, I wanted him to look softer.

[kimosims]

In the final week of the von Badens' stay in Brindleton Bay—after much insistence from young Heinrich—he received his father’s permission to visit the Darlington's residency and surprise his friend Violet. Their friendship had blossomed over shared letters and her occasional visits to the Griffith estate, but soon it would exist solely through the careful script of pen and paper; Heinrich was returning to Windenburg now that his father’s business in Brindleton Bay had been settled.

It was a quiet winter’s day, calm after a long spell of stormy weather, when Violet and Heinrich strolled through the frost-laden gardens of the property. A gentle hush lay over the world, and the air seemed to hold a promise of renewal beneath its blanket of white. As they walked, Violet confessed her love for winter—the stillness, the pale landscape, and the way it seemed to hold the potential for new beginnings, even when everything appeared so lifeless. Heinrich looked at her with a thoughtful expression and asked, “Do you believe in promises?”

The question was simple, but Violet felt it carried a hidden weight. She barely hesitated before replying, "Yes. I take promises very seriously. They're not a trivial matter to me."

He paused, searching her face, before venturing, “Then... would you promise, with me, that our bond won’t fade? That it won’t weaken, even when I’m gone?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice a delicate whisper against the winter air. Her heart hammered against her ribs, suddenly faster, and she feared he might hear it.

Instead of answering right away, Heinrich took her hand, guiding her to a spot where they both stood amidst the snow. Reaching into his coat, he carefully pulled out a single rose, the deep crimson of its petals a stark contrast against the pale world around them. Violet stood frozen, her gaze flitting from the rose to Heinrich, uncertainty mingling with a rush of excitement. Was she misreading this? Was he truly…?

Heinrich took a steadying breath, his expression solemn yet tinged with youthful shyness as he held her gaze. “I like you, Violet,” he said quietly. “When I came here, I expected an unpleasant trip—one that would be strange and uncomfortable. I’m not used to leaving my world behind, nor am I used to getting to know people in an easy way. But you… you’ve made everything different.”

He looked down for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before continuing. “I’ve met plenty of people society calls ‘extraordinary,’ but for the first time, I’ve felt that about someone myself. You showed me that sometimes being extraordinary isn’t about grand talents or achievements—it can be about playing the violin with devotion, or being so eager to learn a stranger’s language just to make him feel more at home. It’s about not being afraid to be a little unconventional.”

She looked at him, her eyes bright, and for a moment, the color of the world seemed to flood back into her vision, filling her senses. Is this what it meant to be seen, to be truly noticed? She felt each nerve alight, alive with the understanding of how easy it might be to become addicted to this feeling.

Heinrich extended his hand, his voice tender. “Do you understand what I’m saying, or… am I getting carried away?”

Violet blinked, her mouth lifting in a soft smile. “It seems I’m at a loss for words. That’s not a small feat, let me tell you that.”

A light chuckle escaped him, and he dared to ask, “So… may I take that as a yes?”

She nodded, barely able to contain her smile. “Yes, you may.”

He grinned, a flicker of triumph warming his cheeks, and then his expression softened. “I know we’re young, but… I’ll return, Violet. I’ll come back to ask you this again.”

She looked at him, her voice gentle with only the slightest tremor, “You won’t change your mind, then?”

Without hesitation, he replied, “Not in a thousand winters.” The conviction in his voice made her heart skip, and she couldn’t suppress a quiet laugh.

They spent the rest of the afternoon talking about everything and nothing, sharing fragments of their worlds in both their languages. Their hands found each other’s from time to time, their connection undeterred by the strictures of propriety, sheltered by their youth from the weight of society’s gaze. They both sensed, without saying it, that things would be different when they met again; that the playful freedom of their childhood might give way to something more restrained, something grown.

When Otto arrived to collect Heinrich, Violet thought she had steeled herself well enough to keep her feelings hidden. But Heinrich saw the sadness lingering on her face and, in a voice filled with gentle assurance, reminded her, “We made a promise, remember? I’ll make sure you’re not left without a correspondent to practice your Windenburgian with.”

Forcing a smile, she nodded, their shared promise lingering between them, like the final note of a song that had yet to end. They said their goodbyes with the bittersweet melancholy of youth, a silent understanding that they’d carry this day with them through whatever years lay ahead.

[fablesuntold]

@musingmemories sent: ❝ you so hungry for vengeance? deliver it. ❞ — From Harley Quinn to Batman ✨

Vengeance. Batman was the embodiment of the word. It was everything he stood for, dishing out deserved punishments where due, and hurting those who swore to make it their personal goal to reign terror on the unsuspecting citizens of Gotham. He was vengeance. Revenge in its finest form.. even if it meant killing when necessary, as much as Bruce loathed to take the life of another. But certain individuals were too far gone to be stopped by a firm telling off and a few fists thrown their way; proven time and time again by Gotham’s very own self declared ‘Clown Prince of Crime’ and his endlessly loyal devotee— otherwise known as Harley Quinn. How long before she realised she meant nothing to The Joker? And just how long could Bruce afford to stop pulling his punches and giving her the benefit of the doubt?

He didn’t want to have to kill her, because unlike with the Joker? Bruce wholeheartedly believed that there was still potential for redemption there. For Harleen Quinzel to find her way back to the light and rid herself of the darkness Joker had instilled within her. But o h, how Bruce’s belief in her began to wane each and every sordid time they met. She made it very difficult to be lenient with her, especially as of late.. that deranged smile of hers having turned even more twisted than ever— unsettlingly wide and malicious. A stark contrast to the dashingly sweet one she used to regard him with from across the table in whatever fancy restaurant they’d reserved for the night.

That’s right. Back before the world turned darker and life looked promising for the newest psychologist on the block, her and Bruce used to be a thing once. A story doomed to remain unfinished— feelings of rejection and misunderstandings sending her right into the wicked, outstretched arms of The Joker who had been lying in wait, ready to manipulate and corrupt the first vulnerable little minion he could get his hands on. What could have been if only Bruce had told her the truth. What could have been if she’d known that there really was nobody else, and that the only reason he kept skipping out on dates or leaving her in the middle of the night without so much as a goodbye note, was because he was Batman.

But that was all too little too late now, wasn’t it? Bruce had chosen his path, and she had chosen hers. And they couldn’t have been any more different.

Staring her down now, a foot pressed firmly against her stomach to keep her pinned to the ground after yet another merciless brawl? Bruce still found himself hesitating, unable to deliver the finishing blow. Not even the taunting of his motto was enough to convince him. “..No. Not this way. Killing you won’t change anything.” Sneered down at her through clenched teeth, Bruce met her darkened stare head on, hoping that his own gaze remained distant enough to tune out old feelings that threatened to rise to the surface. “..Let me help you, Harley. You need help. This isn’t you, not really. I know you helped people once. What changed?”

What could have possibly been the driving force that had her so desperate to stray away from her true calling in life and pursue an evil that most would cower away from? “It’s not too late to change. Joker doesn’t care about you.. he’d be more than happy to see you burn.” In fact, it wouldn’t surprise Bruce at all if the menace himself was watching somewhere close by from the shadows, cackling quietly to himself as the scene unfolded before him— just as intended. Harleen Harley deserved better than that. She deserved to be free.

[freedvmrouge]

Central Park

Word Count: 654

Tags & Warnings: POV Steve Rogers, Reunions, Post-Sentinel of Liberty (2022) and Captain America: Cold War (2023), Father-Son Relationship (bc that's how I see Steve & Redacted's relationship), Redacted picks a name for himself after going on a journey of self-discovery, this has trans undertones

Summary: Steve goes on his routine morning run around Central Park when something silver catches his attention: it’s Redacted.

For @steverogersbingo R4 / November Monthly Adoptables

Every single morning, provided that no one drags him away from his apartment, he heads out on a run through Central Park. There’s a certain calmness that it brings, seeing the familiar greenery that sits in stark contrast to the concrete jungle. If he didn’t know better, he could’ve believed that the park existed in its own little pocket dimension.

But no, he’s been in those things—recently, too, thanks to the folks over at the Baxter Building—and Steve is more than happy to watch as someone chokes down four hot dogs in one sitting and another reels in their dog as they chase after a squirrel. 

Steve runs the length of Central Park at least five times before he calls it quits. Sometimes his Avengers Assemble pager goes off and he’s shooting to Avengers mansion in one quick turn. But today, he greets the familiar vendors, children, and neighbors. 

Today, he’s about to find a nice place to picnic and rest when something shifting and silver catches his attention. 

The shine of it feels uncanny and uncomfortably otherworldly, and that’s when he realizes. 

“Redacted?”

Steve tries not to speak too loudly, tries not to attract any attention, but he also knows that Redacted can hear just fine. It’s been a while since Steve’s seen or heard from the guy. He’s been getting worried.

Redacted spills forth from the shadows. This specific part of the park has always been a bit different to the rest of it, the trail hidden away by trees and shrubbery. He always keeps a lookout in this area for any crimes in progress, just in case. But this is no crime. 

This is a reunion.

An easy grin plasters on his face as Redacted becomes more visible. Steve jogs closer, careful not to get too close too fast. 

“Have you been well?” he asks, looking up at Redacted.

“Yes, I have learned a lot in such a short time.” Redacted pauses, shifting his body this way and that. He looks just about the same as he did when he left, reflective silver skin and lines running through his malleable body. “I have also assigned myself a name.”

“That’s great, let’s hear it. I’d love to call you by your name.”

He waits a beat, then another, and the grin on his face never leaves. Steve doesn’t want to push. 

“Carter, I’m Carter.” 

“It’s great to meet you, Carter. I’m Steve, and I’d love to share a few hot dogs with you, if you’re free this morning.”

Carter doesn’t have any discernible human facial features, not anymore. Neither of them know what Carter used to look like and nothing in Bucky’s adopted arsenal as the new Revolution have borne fruit. But even without them, Steve can tell without a shadow of a doubt that Carter’s happy.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to scare anyone. It’s been bright out there.”

“I’m not ashamed of you, Carter,” Steve says in soft tones. “I would love to hear what you’ve been up to lately, where you’ve been. I pack a lot of food away. We’ve got time.”

Carter still hesitates, keeping to the shadows for the most part, but Steve waits patiently. He thinks that even if there’s an Avengers alert, he might ask someone else to take care of it—or ask Carter to come with, if he’s willing. 

“Can you get the food and come back instead? I can wait here.”

“Sure,” Steve answers easily. “You got any preferences for toppings?”

“Surprise me, I’ve never had it before.”

“You’re gonna love it.”

With one last glance and a smile, he turns around and heads for the hot dog vendor a couple of yards away. He goes in the hopes that Carter stays, if only for a little while, and he goes in the hopes that maybe he can introduce Ian to Carter soon. Maybe they can all figure this all out together. 

[galaxyghost4081]

Memento Mori

    Screams. Blood. Light. Death. Those were the last things Cor remembered before opening their eyes into darkness. Yet, it was a familiar darkness, a realm that the young kenku had only been to one other time. They stood up, talons clinking atop a floor of solidified pitch, and turned their head around, looking for something.

    “Hello?” Cor called out. “Are you there?”

    While the kenku spun about, seemingly awaiting some sort of response, a glimmer of light caught their eye. They shifted their gaze downward to notice a golden thread wrapped around their pinky finger, the rest drifting away into the darkness beyond. Immediately, Cor let out a small caw! of glee. A smile swiftly grew on their beaked face, and, jittering and giggling with excitement, they ran toward the direction of the floating thread.

    Their talons rapidly tap, tap, tapped across the floor of nothingness below them. The golden thread danced in the air, guiding the kenku into the unknown, but they didn’t care. Each step took them closer to the one thing they were hoping for - and soon enough, there she was. Cor smiled once again as they approached a tall, shadowy woman. Her long, raven-black hair fell to the floor, seemingly connected to the darkness, and it ruffled across her face to reveal a white porcelain mask concealing her true features; a stark contrast from the rest of her form. The only sliver of color on the woman was a thread of gold wrapped around the pinky finger of an ivory-hued hand - the same thread that Cor had on theirs.

    The woman was unmoving, only shifting her head to stare at the little kenku as they opened their arms and gave her the largest hug they could muster. “I knew you were here somewhere!” Cor beamed. “You don’t know how happy I am to see you! I was in a really, really scary place, but now I’m here! With you!”

    As Cor happily nuzzled themselves into the woman’s form, she reached her hand down to softly pet the kenku’s head. She then gingerly grazed their cheek, cupped their chin, and tilted their head up to look at her, her porcelain face slanted to the side in curiosity. “Do you know why you are here, little one?” Her lips remained still, but her voice, intense and otherworldly, echoed all throughout the empty void.

    “Is it because you wanted to hang out with me?” Cor chirped.

    “No.”

    “No? Is it because you wanted to do something else?”

    “Yes.”

    Cor suddenly bounced with excitement. “Yippie! Is it fun? Is it a surprise? What is it?”

    The woman kneeled down to the small kenku’s height and gently wrapped their hand with her own. Her voice was but a solemn whisper when she spoke. “I am here to take you home.”

    “Home?” Cor’s jitters swiftly died down as they felt something wrap around their finger. They peered downward to notice the golden thread between them and the woman tighten, its gleam growing ever-so brighter. The woman’s touch, as comforting as it typically was, grew chill and barren. Then, it dawned upon them. Cor tightened their grip on the woman’s hand, then drooped their head and looked up at her with pleading eyes. “What if I’m not ready to go home?”

    “I cannot bring you back this time, little one. It is time to go.”

    “But what about my friends? I can’t just leave them so soon! I didn’t even say goodbye!” Cor suddenly cried out, their voice crackling. They quivered, sniffling back tears that threatened to fall. Then, out of the blue, a light tap on their shoulder caught their attention. They turned around, releasing a small gasp when they saw ethereal, ghostly figures of everyone they knew. Friends, family, loved ones - they were silhouettes, faint echoes of their mortal forms, but Cor recognized each and every last one of them. The dark-haired woman stepped back as the phantoms gathered around to embrace the small, tearful kenku. The frozen touch they felt moments ago melted away. Instead, they felt warmth and love as they shared one last moment of life with those who gave them one that was lived to the fullest. Cor hugged back the best they and their little form could, smiling as they allowed the tears to fall. When they eventually let go, they watched as the spirits dissolved into shining, silvery dust, fading away into the void beyond.

    The woman reapproached the little kenku, and they turned around to see her open palm, delicate and welcoming. “Are you ready to go home now, little one?”

    “Yeah,” Cor said, wiping their tears away, “I’m ready.” However, just before they placed their taloned hand atop the woman’s, they hesitated. “Wait. Can I ask you one last thing?”

    “What is it?”

    They looked up at the woman, young, innocent eyes staring straight at her. “Was… Was I a good friend?”

    A moment of silence. Then, the woman took Cor’s hand, and her hold was tender and soothing beyond comparison. “You have always been a good friend, little one,” she said. “And you always will be.” As they both began to walk away, the kenku stayed right by the woman's side, their light disappearing into the darkness.

[twentydaysofdrabbles]

The Concierge Gives A Tasting - Look (Part 22)

The walk back to your room is not long, but it is enough to have Sans dogging your steps like a slavering hound. His red pilot lights for eyes glow bright in the shadows between lights, bobbing and weaving with every step. 

You’re not concerned about showing him where you lay your head. After all, you’re so rarely there. So you aren’t afraid of slipping out your room key from your hidden vambrace, of swiping it past the card reader. Of pushing the door open and admitting yourself into the dim, cool room. 

It’s a fairly standard room, by hotel standards. Though you’re considered the Manager’s right hand, your room is far from ostentatious. Tastefully decorated in classical luxury, but not overly so. A small round table stands near the kitchenette set off to the side, two ornately carved and padded wooden chairs tucked neatly under it.

Next to the kitchenette, a wall with a weapon rack, most of its slots empty, and a dresser with a repair kit on it. A door set at the far wall. A closet just beside it. And behind a wall of curtains, a wall of windows. But of course you never open them.

Your bed is big, the main focus of the bedroom, covered with dark satin sheets and a multitude of pillows. A single padded armchair stands to the side of it.  Impeccably made. Neat. 

Sans is staring at it, looking as if he wants to muss that neatness right away. 

“Patience, Mister Sans,” you say softly, a hint of a tease in your even tone. “We’ve not yet finished our negotiations.”

“then hurry the fuck up,” he growls, prowling up to you.

At least, until he is stopped by your hand on his chest. Just a little pressure and it would cause the hidden blade nestled under your wrist to pop out...but you’re careful not to let that happen. Looking at him from under your lashes, you let a small smile spread over your lips. “Mister Sans.”

The skeleton sneers at you, impatience writ plain on his face. A sneer that turns into a pout when he sees that you’re unmoving. “sweetheart, ya wouldn’t be leavin’ me in the cold, would ya?”

“The cold isn’t exactly what I’d call it, Mister Sans.” Dropping your hand from his chest, you bring it to the lapels of your coat. Shedding it with one smooth movement, shrugging it down your arms. 

All at once, Sans freezes. Then he grins a greedy grin, his tongue flicking out to lick over his teeth. “oh, sweetheart. now we’re talkin’.”

Chuckling lowly, you turn away to drape your coat over a coatrack just beside your weapon rack. “Make yourself comfortable, Mister Sans. I won’t be long.”

“don’t mind if i do, sweets.” His voice is a low purr, just barely audible over his footsteps as he goes to sit in the armchair near the bed. Predictably, he sits with his legs spread, his arms draped along the back of it. As large as he is, he doesn’t fully fill the armchair. A surprising fact, to you. You didn’t realise the armchair was that large. 

Now that he’s lounging in it, his eye lights glued to you, you’re suddenly reminded of a man watching a striptease. A smile quirks the corner of your lip up. If he thinks you’ll perform for him, he’s sorely mistaken. But you’ll not leave him wanting. 

Under your coat is a plain shirt, well tailored, well fitted, moulded to your body in stark contrast to the coat which gives you a sharp silhouette. You can feel Sans’ eyes on you as you reach down to undo the ammunition belt around your waist. 

“how many, sweetheart?” he asks huskily, roving his red eyes all over you. 

You spare him the barest look, taking out the spare magazine without looking. “Four.” The gun is slid out of its holster next, magazine ejected, chambered round removed. Made safe. Placed back in its spot on the rack. “Miss Toriel took two out.”

When you next glance at Sans, he looks as if you had just slipped him the dirtiest pickup line. “shit, four and not a single scratch on ya,” he groans, zeroing in on the red stains around the wrist cuff of your shirt. Slowly dulling crimson amid the pure white fabric. A deep inhale, expanding the skeleton’s broad ribcage, and he growls on the exhale. “ya still smell like blood, damn.”

Ah, the perfume must have dissipated. “Is that an issue, Mister Sans?” you ask politely, unbuttoning the cuff of your shirt so you can roll it up to your elbows. Your vambraces are revealed by this action, close fitting as to be a metal skin around your forearms, stopping at the base of your wrists. It is raised on the tops and undersides of your wrists, the holsters for your spring-loaded knives. 

A hidden latch frees your arms of the metal armour. One by one you set them upon the dresser, to be taken apart and cleaned. Flakes of dried blood litter the wood and the floor where you stand, something that Sans doesn’t miss. 

“not a lotta folk use knives up here,” he idly notes, tongue flicking over his teeth. “whaddya say ya invite me to a demonstration one of these days?”

Goodness, Sans is a bit of a sadist isn’t he? Maybe a bit of a masochist too, by the sounds of it. 

“Oh?” you ask, toeing your shoes off at last. They are nudged back under the dresser, away from where anyone could trip over them. Now clad in just your socks, you lift your pant legs just enough to show the tops of them. They’re not the sexiest articles of clothing you own, not by a longshot, but you don’t miss the way Sans looks at them with blazing want in his eyes as though you had just shown him your underwear. 

Ah yes, that monster thing about socks. Well, you’ll milk that for whatever it’s worth. Lifting a foot so you can reach the last switchblade hidden in your right sock. Gloved hands close around the handle of it, slipping it from the sewn in holster and onto the dresser. As much as you want to dexterously flick the knife this way and that, your hands still ache from the exertion of earlier today.

Though he is briefly distracted, Sans seems to compose himself. He loosens the tie around his neck, unbuttoning the top button to reveal the ivory bones hidden behind. "yeah,” he just purrs, flicking his jacket to the sides and showing off the black suspenders clinging to his shoulders. Ah, he didn’t miss that you liked them.

A perceptive man is a dangerous one. But you’ve always known that about Sans. 

At last fully disarmed, you pad over to where he sits. He watches you keenly, crimson eye lights roving up and down your body hungrily, admiring the swing of your hips, the delicate steps you take, until you’re bracing your hands on the arms of the chair and looming over him, casting him in shadow. 

This close, you can see every flicker of his eye lights, feel every breath he takes. You can see how his eyes lock on the collar of your shirt. Dark ink creeps up your skin from under the white fabric, dark tentacles curling and weaving under the fog. Through your shirt, too, the barest hints of a tattoo can be seen. A collar tapped into the skin around your neck, a visible, artistic weight across your collarbones, your shoulders, closing behind the nape of your neck. 

“nice ink, sweetheart,” he purrs, lifting a finger to press over the top of your chest. “mind letting me see the rest of it?”

Perhaps if he looks closer, he can see the skull wreathed in vines and laurels sitting at the base of your throat. 

But you don’t give him the opportunity. 

“If you secure a second meeting, Mister Sans, then I would be glad to accommodate your request,” you say evenly, though with a smile in your voice. 

Sans growls briefly, “pfft, second meeting.” Then it hits him. He narrows his eyes. “whaddya mean?”

Your lips tip up in a sly smile, your eyes glowing bright with dark desire. “One thing at a time, Mister Sans,” you murmur, your knee coming up to rest on the chair between his thighs. One day, you’ll figure out how he has such thick thighs for being made of bone. Perhaps it works like his belly. 

His eyes flick to your gloves then, still tucked up tight around the base of your palms. “them too?”

“Third meeting, if you’re lucky.” You’re confident he will make it that far. 

The eternal grin on Sans’ face widens and he leaves the matter of your gloves alone, tipping his chin up so he can leer at you. “ya like teasin’, don’t cha sweetheart?” But it doesn’t look like he’s protesting. Of course, he’s much the same, dragging a distal phalanx down the centre of your chest until he hits the waistband of your trousers. 

You don’t say anything in response, figuring the satisfied expression on your face evidence enough. Bracing yourself on one hand, you press the other flat against his sternum. Levering more and more of your weight on him until he is pinned against the chair. 

Like in the elevator, Sans just wheezes slightly with a grin, panting up at you, “fuck...”

And just like in the elevator, you lean close. Close enough that your lips brush against his sharp teeth with every word you speak, “Allow me to take the lead in these negotiations.”

The skeleton monster looks as if Gyftmas had come early. “oh yeah sweetheart, take the wheel.”

Oh, you’re going to have so much fun. 

[dream0fschism]

are your nsfw requests still open? if they are could you do one with könig and medic!reader? the rest is up to you

god i’m such a konig slut

i'm back, my darlings!

PAIRING: König x f!reader

“I’m getting tired of seeing your hooded face, König.”

He never spoke much, a thing not uncommon for men in his field of work. Many preferred the comfortable air that the silence brought, enjoyed how it was such a stark contrast to the sounds of gunfire, explosions, screaming. It made your dingy, makeshift clinic a refreshing stop for most.

But the man in front of you had made trips to your room so frequently you’d figured he must have broken some kind of record. You’d treated gunshot wounds, minor burns, patched up his bloody knuckles countless times… there wasn’t an inch of skin you hadn’t laid your fingers upon. Each time you cared for his cuts or stab wounds, some of which hash-marked atop of old and stubborn scars, it was as if you gathered more intel about his personality otherwise untold.

König was a machine, dangerously dedicated to proving his worth - dangerous for the receiving party, of course - with a willingness to sacrifice as much of his flesh and blood as it takes. If necessary, he would nurse his own injuries, albeit terribly, in favour of granting himself an advantage or winning battles. You recall a few times in which you scolded him for his amateur efforts. “If you cauterise one more wound this terribly I’m going to refuse you of future treatment.”

Of course, he’d remained silent. But you swore you saw the slight crinkle in the skin around his eyes.

And in his dedication you couldn’t help but see a deep insecurity. Sometimes, but only on the rare occasion, he would show up barely alive. He would always be alone, never needing his comrades to waste their energy and strength on carrying him to safety. But you would always worry the most in these situations, when his skin was pale and cold and he still refused to remove his hood. “Anything below here, I can take care of myself,” he’d struggled to grumble out.

If he wasn’t so unbelievably skilled, you’d assume he had a death wish.

“I’m sure you’ve said that before,” he answered, the sudden sound of his accented voice gifting you with slight surprise.

“I suppose I’m running out of things to say,” you chuckle, continuing to swab at the dry blood clinging to the skin of his sternum. “And you’re just about running out of unmarked skin.”

“Mm, my gear does seem to be quite useless,” König nods. “Perhaps fighting naked wouldn’t make much of a difference.”

The harmless joke has heat creeping onto your cheeks, and you’re really baffled by your own brain because of it. As if you hadn’t seen ninety-percent of his body already.

“Perhaps not.”

"You are blushing," he notes. "Yet this isn't your first time you've rubbed at my bare skin."

The hand you had placed against him stilled momentarily as his point only intensified the bubbling heat in your face, swelling a ruby-red shade along each of your cheekbones. You continued your aid, with a strict refusal to allow your gaze anywhere else except for his wound.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," König breaks the short silence that followed.

You laugh dryly as your awkwardness fizzles away a little. "You're all finished."

König brushes a hand over the gauze, inspecting your work. When he says nothing, you stand on your feet and gather the used swabs, kicking your wheeled stool to the side to make your way to the bin.

Before the lid had even closed the trash behind it, you felt the warmth of his towering presence at your back. It startled you all the same, a sharp inhale sucking its way through your parted lips.

"I have to ask.. Do you like seeing what's beneath my gear?" He presses each of his long fingers into your shoulder as his hand cups over it.

"Isn't that question a little inappropriate..."

"If I'm crossing a line, then tell me to stop."

You open your mouth to reply, unsure of what exactly you'll say when the hand at your shoulder slowly begins to move. He's agonizingly slow, careful as he explores over the layer of your white button-up, and you feel utterly insane for being unable to use your words and put an end to it.

Instead, you stare blankly at the off-white wall in front of you and allow his hand to roam.

"Can I tell you something?" He asks, edging his hand to cup below your right breast. The touch causes you to lean into the tower of his body, a sudden tenderness and sensitivity wracking each nerve in your chest.

"I enjoy coming to see you," he continues, prompted by the way you relax against him. "In fact, I refuse to see anyone else when I'm injured."

It makes you cock an eyebrow. "I thought it was strange, just how often you needed medical attention. Were you slacking out there? Hoping to get injured so you could see me?"

König huffs out a dry laugh. "No. But part of me did want to be indebted to you."

Liar.

"Why?"

"Because I needed an excuse to give you exactly what you deserve."

You swallow a dryness in your throat, the hand on your breast gives a generous squeeze as you do so. You almost choke on your own saliva.

"If that's something you want..."

"And what do I deserve?" Though you feel as though you already know the answer, you ask anyway, subsequently causing a heavy pulse at within your heat.

"I'm much better with actions than words."

"They do speak louder, I suppose..."

König takes your response as agreement, the hand at your breast moving to dig desperately beneath one of the spaces between the buttons of your shirt. He finds purchase and, in one swift pull, violently rips open the shirt, each button clicking gently as they bounce against the tiled floor.

You open your mouth to scold him, to tell him that he owes you a new shirt pronto - but König is determined to waste no time as his hands are already tugging the band of your bra down to expose your tits.

"I've wanted to see these for a long time," he breathes, and you hear the tremble in his exhale as he does so. "So perfect."

It dawns on you that you must be an obsession of his, that he may be interested in you significantly more than you are in him. It's the only viable explanation for his reckless behaviour, and yet it still didn't make sense why he would risk his life even more than he already did just to be in your presence.

"I.. hope you realise I have no other shirt to wear," you say, inhaling sharply at the sensation of his hot, calloused fingers brushing circles into the shape of each of your nipples. "How am I going to leave this room?"

König tuts as his hands cage around the mounds of your chest and pulls you flush against him.

"Who said you're going to leave this room?"

The pit in your stomach spirals into a trench, and then König is lifting you, using the leverage of your weight against him, before you can even stutter out a response. His hands guide your body along like you're no heavier than a bag of rice, a true display of his unbeatable strength that sends your mind numb - reminds you of just who you're dealing with.

A ruthless, merciless killing machine.

When König settles onto the examination table, he makes sure that you're positioned perfectly onto the tautness of his giant thighs, and you finally win against the babbling, incoherent flurry of thoughts inside your skull and speak.

"This... Surely we're violating multiple codes of conduct.. protocols... I-"

König allows you to cut yourself off, relishes in the way you hiccup at the sensation of linen on skin as deft hands begin to slide up your skirt.

"We can stop," he suggests, halting the movement of his hands but continuing to brush his fingertips back and forth, so awfully close to the insides of your thighs.

You squeeze your eyes shut and drop your head to rest just below his shoulder. Every single horny neuron inside of your brain fires at you, reminds you of just how neglected you've been sexually, what the countless hours of constant shifts have denied you for so long. And then it dawns on you.

"König, we can't. I'm not on birth control."

The man laughs. Laughs. It's the first time you've ever heard such a soft, genuine sound escape his mouth. You feel a twitch below because of it, the heat between your legs only solidifying the way his display of amusement has made your want for him so much more intense.

"Love, I'm only interested in your pleasure."

And you know better than most that a man who prefers giving rather than receiving is a rare find.

It would be a tragic waste.

When you spread your legs unconsciously, your skirt ruffles up until it can't no more and König reacts accordingly to the invitation your cunt is giving to him. But he spends too much time massaging the sensitive skin between your thighs for your liking, and you lift your hips to encourage something more.

What you get is rather unexpected, and would be a little annoying if you weren't so drunk on your own arousal. König hooks a finger under the material covering your hip bone and jerks his wrist, tearing your panties with ease before moving to finish the job at the other side.

"Please," you murmur, eyes trained on the large hand between your legs. He shushes you, with a gentleness you didn't suspect he had in him.

"Quiet now," he hums out. "Let me show you how grateful I am to you."

You feel your clit screaming for pressure, but König's fingers seem to ignore the cry as he toys with the wetness around your hole. The sensation tickles slightly, until he's pressing his middle and ring fingers inside.

Immediately, your hands fly up to brace at the arm that begins to move, long fingers filling you enough to bring a whimper from you. It feels good, but not perfect, and the man seems to read your mind as he curls his digits to rub at your sensitive, spongy spot.

"Oh, fffuck," you sigh, digging the back of your head into him with more force and following with a series of guttural groans.

"Quiet," he scolds, a slight venom in his tone. "Or I'll have to stop."

"Don't," you almost growl with a buck of your hips.

You almost forget the other hand that rests over your left breast until it starts to knead and pull at the skin, almost miss the sound of König's pants as they ooze with arousal from behind his mask.

With only the sensation of König's palm brushing against it, your clit is desperately swollen. You're willing to look the other way when you feel yourself constricting around the now three fingers pumping in and out of you.

When he speaks, his movements don't falter.

"I'm going to stop, and when I do, I want you to lay on your back on this table. Understand?"

"Yes," you obey. You're pretty much putty in his hands at this point anyway.

And so you splay out on the cold metal of the table - which your white coat does nothing to protect you from - skirt bunched up around your hips, shirt ruined and ripped open and completely exposing your chest and belly.

"Lift your legs," he commands, hand ready to hold them in place as you do as you're told.

At the end of the table he stands, lanky arms reaching over to grasp each of your ankles as he slides you along the metal until the backs of your thighs butt against his own.

You feel uncomfortably aware of how exposed you are as he spreads your legs and examines the sight before him. His eyes are cold, fierce - akin to the eyes of a hunter eyeing its prey. Your body feels as cold as the surface beneath it underneath his stare.

König releases your ankles to let your heels rest at his shoulders as his hands begin a slow trail down and along your trembling thighs. Each of his thumbs hook around your corresponding hip bones, calloused fingers cupping in place at your lower back.

His baby blues eyes are considerably darkened to a shade of grey as they flick up to meet your own, and moments later the hem of his hood is brushing gently over your swollen slit.

You've never seen his face, but you've never wanted to more than you do now. His hold on you is intoxicating in a way that staggers your cognition, robs your brain of any chance of comprehension as you can only watch him lean further forward and dip until you can feel the heat of his breath against your cunt. His tongue is hot, completely saturated in his own saliva as it makes contact with your puffy clit. It snatches the breath from your lungs with violence, and when it starts to massage on and around the nerve you can only mewl and whine meekly.

König continues his watch on you the entire time, evidently enjoying the pained look that the struggle to keep quiet brings to your face.

You lift your hips into the onslaught of his mouth, and his grip around them becomes vice-like as he forces you into place and sucks harshly at your nub. This only serves to fuel your physical struggle under his pleasure more, and he grunts at your display of disobedience, lifting you higher until only your upper back and head touch the table.

The new position makes any movement too difficult for you, forces you to submit against him as he groans into the taste of your pussy. "König, I-God, I can't--" You flail your arms until they slump defeatedly back down to your sides, nails scratching at the frigid surface below you.

He manoeuvres his grip for comfort, lifting you further, until his forearms are encircling and squeezing around your waist and your calves hang over each of his shoulders.

"König, please, fuck--"

The man hums into your heat, all but abusing your clit with the vibration that follows through the sound. You're forced to slap one hand over your mouth to muffle the repetition of cries falling from it. König's lucky, his hood seems to dull his grumbles of pure satisfaction that reverberate against you. But you still hear every bit of them.

Your body spasms when you come undone against König's relentless mouth, legs jittering with a force that wobbles your entire body against his own. His hold on you helps stabilise you through the orgasm, but your hands fail to suppress the desperate, hopeless wails you release from behind them.

"That was beautiful," you barely hear him say through the ringing in your ears. "But I'm not done, Doctor."

[river-bottom-nightmare]

as a finishing touch to her outfit, mother reapplies her lipstick: a bold, matte mauve looking all the richer on her mouth. damian knows the delicate hilts of the twin swords hidden in her boots are the same colour. so are the daggers in her layers of skirts. mother's quiet declaration of personality, vicious and viper-beautiful.

damian himself is done up much the same, and he's itchy. he reaches up to tug at his collar again, but mother tsks when she spots him in her vanity mirror, an ornate thing taking up half the wall of her room. "this dinner is filled with your grandfather's friends, damian. you must look immaculate." her voice is stern, steadily so, and damian almost misses the note of fear woven within it.

he cuts his gaze up at her and tries to scowl, though he's afraid it comes out as more of a pout. "they're grandfather's friends, so no matter how i look, i'll be fine."

"that," mother snaps. "that is precisely what you will not do. and keep your gaze down."

"but—"

she crosses the room and kneels down in front of him, catching his hands in her own. "you must keep your eyes down, damian. even if you're furious, even if everything in you is screaming to unsheathe your weapons and show them just how powerful you are, even if it burns you like the suns, you keep your head ducked and your eyes down."

damian makes a show of tugging his hands, caring little about pulling them free. something in his mother's tone has him staring right into her eyes, capturing his attention, a pollock writhing. still, he says, "but then they'll see right through me!"

"precisely," she replies, not missing a second. "for someone of your status, there's nothing safer than being invisible, and that's what matters. keeping yourself safe."

"is it?"

"yes." her voice scratches its sharp-edged nails in the marrow of his bones like collecting tree sap. "and no matter what you do, keep your eyes down. understand?"

and damian cannot find it within himself to argue. "yes, mother."

she nods her approval, then rises to gather the last of her belongings before heading to the door, damian in tow. she moves to open it, but before her hand lands on the handle, it tenses. "and damian? if anything does go wrong, i will not let anything happen to you. i will not let anything touch you, okay? i promise."

---

as a finishing touch to his outfit, father fumbles on his cufflinks. his fingers are almost unsure, working over the silver like a ghost, like weaving a tapestry with spiderwebs and his own fingertips. the roughly stylized 'w' on them, a relic from an old time, is enough to tell damian of their origins.

the stark white of damian's new dress shirt is unfamiliar, and it contrasts his skin tone—sharpening his fledgling cheekbones, throwing shadows under his eyes. he looks, damian thinks, very young. much younger than he holds himself to be.

cufflinks on, father turns to damian, but out of the corner of his eye, damian sees him frown.

"no," father says. "no, damian, look up."

he does, but it's out of surprise. "what?"

"always, always, eyes up. never let them see you falter. never let them make you small."

"eyes down keeps me unnoticed," damian counters, the response route and feeling more like it's coming out of mauve-coloured lips than his own. "eyes down keeps me safe."

father's frown deepens, the lines in his face well-etched, like a groove in a rock widening and widening until it splits in two. "not here," he says. "here it makes you vulnerable."

"but—"

"these people? they want you to get angry. they want you to prove every horrible assumption about you right. and the minute you give them what they want, they've won."

father's always been a quiet sort of strength, like old sepia photographs clinging stubbornly to time, but right now, he looks like he's bleeding over. he looks like a wave of colour in the most furious, frantic way.

"they will treat you, damian, like complete shit. they want your anger. what you'll gift them in return is a steady look, maybe even and that will—that'll enrage them."

damian's heart twists, and suddenly, irrationally, he feels very out of his depth. but father takes a deep breath, straightens his shoulders, and rolls them back once. with a ripple cascading down his body, his suit becomes armour, an iron-strong shield made of silk and cashmere, ready to take to the outside world like a beast to a forest, like teeth to a jugular. damian does his best to copy him.

bruce nods his approval, then double-checks his communicator and batarang in a hidden pocket before heading towards the door, damian in tow. he moves to open it, but before his hand lands on the handle, it tenses. "and damian? if anything does go wrong, i will not let anything happen to you. i will not let anything touch you, okay? i promise."

---

idk i'm having some bruce and talia emotions, and what better vehicle to express them than damain.

also, happy ganpati everyone!

tag list: @woahajimes @birdy-bat-writes @subtleappreciation @catxsnow @pricetagofficial @screennamealreadyused @clamityganon @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy @red-hood-redemption @capricorn-stark @batshit-birds @buticaaba @comics-observer @newsical @queenofbooknerds @scattered-winter @amillionandonefandoms

[baekhansol]

Please, Master | h.hj

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : hwang hyunjin x f!reader

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : smut / pwp

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 : mature

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1655 words

𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭 : kitten play pwp

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 :Warnings: pet (kitten) play, anal (tail) plug, dry humping, voyeurism, use of toys, unprotected sex, breeding kink, master kink, creampie, orgasm denial, slight nipple play

© im-sakura 2021. All Rights Reserved.

You feel like a needy kitten in heat. You are a whimpering mess as you decide what to do, playing with your fluffy white clip-on ears. You tug on the sleeves of your borrowed sweater, quickly texting Hyunjin to make sure he would come home soon. When he replies that he was on his way, you lick your lips.

You adjust your tail before you put his pillow between your legs, needily grinding on it. As you grind on it, the sensation from your new tail butt plug makes you mewl louder.

You don't hear Hyunjin come home, but you do hear him open the bedroom door. Your face turns red and you quickly stop, trying to adjust yourself with a little needy whimper.

"Kitten," he says softly, and you don't meet his eyes, so you miss the hunger in them.

"S-s-sorry master," you whimper, sitting up and dropping your head.

"Does my kitten need some play time? Is my kitten needy?" Hyunjin asks, his voice smoother than silk.

You whimper, biting your lip shyly. You hadn't made any rules about whether you could touch yourself or not with Hyunjin yet. In fact, you only recently told him you liked kitten play. After seeing you and taking care of you in subspace, he wasn't too surprised and gladly said he would try it out.

"Kitten, I asked you a question," he says, lifting your chin to make you look up at him before he tugs on your pretty pink collar.

"I want to play, master," you admit earnestly, feeling your core throb.

"Will you show me what you were just doing? You're a good kitten, so I'm sure you can," Hyunjin asks, cooing softly as you lay back down and put the pillow between your legs.

You begin to grind into it, your head turned to see his reaction. He licks his lips as he watches, and you whimper softly. Hyunjin says nothing, but flips your skirt up to better expose what you were doing.

You hear him groan softly as he takes in your fluffy white tail, but more so at how your panties had a cute hole for the tail and a tiny bow above it.

"My kitten is so needy, hmm," he muses, listening to your soft noises as if they were music.

Hyunjin leans over and opens the drawer with your toys, and you pause to watch him with an open mouth, wondering if he was grabbing a condom yet.

Instead, he takes out the bunny vibrator and lubricant. A soft whine escapes you, and he tsks lightly. "None of that now, kitten," he says, shaking his head.

"I want your cock," you mewl shyly, batting your eyelashes up at him.

"Prove it to me and be a good girl before I breed you, kitten," Hyunjin says simply as he stalks closer.

"Now," he begins, pulling the pillow out between your legs. "Are you going to take off your panties or am I going to rip them off?"

"I'll take them off, master!" You assure him, quickly tossing them onto the floor and exposing your throbbing core.

"So wet already," he coos, teasing your entrance with the tip of the rabbit vibrator. Hyunjin turns it on the low setting, teasing your folds and getting the toy more lubricated.

"P-p-please master," you beg, trying your best not to buck your hips up.

"You need to be patient for master, kitten. You had play time by yourself, now it's my play time," Hyunjin explains, pushing the head of the toy in your hole, causing any response you could give him to turn incoherent.

Your soft mewls grow louder as he turns it on higher, letting the toy fuck you on its own. Hyunjin guides it to the perfect spot, and you’re soon cumming embarrassingly fast.

“M-m-master!” you mewl, tearing up as he turns up the vibrations on the toy.

“You can take more, keep going,” Hyunjin hushes you, gently rubbing your side as he turns you onto your hands and knees.

The overstimulation from your previous orgasm has you cumming again all too quickly for your liking as a soft “please please please?” escapes you.

Your face scrunches up from the overstimulation again, and you feel yourself tearing up. Hyunjin then turns off the toy, but leaves it inside of you.

“Roll over onto your back again,” he commands sternly, but gently helps you regardless.

When you lift your hips up and turn, he tugs down your skirt and tosses it onto the floor with your panties.

“Shirt off,” he demands, and you quickly obey.

Your cheeks heat up now that you were completely bare in front of him while he was still fully clothed. Your cunt aches from the toy, and you’re relieved when Hyunjin reaches down and carefully pulls it out of you.

You moan lowly at the sensation, and one of his eyebrows twitches at your response. You both watch in awe as your juices stick to the toy, and as he pulls it away a string of your arousal drops onto the bed near your tail.

“My needy little kitten,” Hyunjin practically purrs.

“Just for you, Jinnie,” you murmur bashfully.

He looks at you in surprise, and you quickly realize your mistake. You didn’t call him master. Hyunjin shakes his head with a smile before you can apologize, setting the toy aside and stripping slowly.

“How much do you want me?” he asks, staring at you after taking off his shirt.

“So much master. I need you so badly,” you begin, your eyes wide and pleading.

“Hmmm…” Hyunjin hums, not convinced as he continues to slowly take off his pants.

“Please? I want your cock in me so bad. I’m a pretty kitty in heat, remember? I need you so badly that it’s all I can think about,” you babble, the innocent look on your face a stark contrast to your dirty words.

“I need it so badly,” you nearly start to cry, feeling your hole clenching around nothing.

Hyunjin nods thoughtfully, taking off his boxers and releasing his erection.

“Alright kitty, you’ve been good so I will give you my cock, okay?”

You eagerly nod as he meets your lips for a kiss, quickly pulling them away to kiss down your jaw and neck, sucking and nipping harshly to create marks.

You whimper at his teasing actions, as he knew you were ready for his delicious length. Before you can beg more, he pinches both of your nipples, a knowing smirk on his face as you let out a loud moan. Hyunjin is quick to take one in his mouth, sucking on the sensitive bud before grazing it with his teeth. His ministrations are too short, as he soon switches to the other. Hyunjin fully knows that he could make you cum just from playing with your breasts, but now is not the time.

Once he is satisfied with the marks he created, he flips you over and pulls your ass up in the air. Hyunjin tugs on your tail, causing you to moan and arch your back more.

“Please master?” you beg as he slides his cock between your soaking folds.

“Please what?” he asks, feigning ignorance of what you needed.

“Need master to breed me,” you beg, trying to give him a pleading look from over your shoulder.

Hyunjin lets out a satisfied hum before pushing the head of his cock inside of you, letting out a soft moan at the sensation.

You let out a pleased whimper, trying to move your hips closer to his.

He notices right away and pulls completely out of you, smacking your ass. “Who is in charge here?” Hyunjin asks.

Your voice gets caught in your throat, but he waits for you to speak.

“You, master,” you manage to say.

“Then stay still,” Hyunjin commands.

A soft whine escapes you, but you stay still as the head of his cock prods your entrance again. He slowly enters you, and you knew it was to test your patience.

“Please master,” you murmur, clawing at the sheets.

Hyunjin hums and slides the rest of the way in, the head of his cock resting against your cervix. A loud moan escapes you as he grinds his hips into you, letting your body adjust to him being balls deep.

“Stay still kitten,” he murmurs, his hands gripping your waist as he slowly begins to thrust into you.

His cock rubs against your g spot with each thrust, causing you to close your eyes and let out gasps and moans into the sheets. Hyunjin is quick to speed up, his grip on your waist tightening. You try to muffle your sounds into the bed, but Hyunjin notices immediately.

He stops his thrusts, snaking a hand from your waist to your stomach and up your torso, wrapping around to hold onto your shoulder as he pulls you up, your back flush against his chest.

“Let me hear your cries, kitten,” he grunts hotly in your ear, biting your earlobe before beginning to thrust.

You whimper out and hold onto his arms as one wraps around your waist, his thrusts more precise and harsh than before.

You begin to moan and cry his name incoherently, feeling overwhelmed in the best way. Hyunjin sucks marks on your neck, and you feel his length twitching inside of you. After another loud whimper escapes you, Hyunjin moans your name and cums inside of you.

He thrusts a few more times as his length begins to soften, then pulls out and lays you down on your back, spreading your legs open to see his cum leaking out of you.

The look on his face softens slightly, and he reaches up and wipes your tears with his thumb.

“I didn’t get to cum,” you murmur, pouting.

“Only good kittens get to cum on their master’s cocks,” he informs you, raising an eyebrow.

[beomglocks]

happy (very) 'belated' father’s day

summary : the only father willing to come to the dinner

pairing : dilf neighbor!soobin x (legal)!reader x beomgyu (?)

warnings & other: i wrote the day after fathers day, the title is edited bc im posting this like WAY later LOL, threesome (?), degradation, some beomgyu (no incest), sub!beomgyu if you squint like really fucking hard, definitely not a normal relationship, slight exhibitionism, some possessiveness, DON’T read if you’re uncomfortable with age gaps, edit: REwriting this, this one is for the dilf soobin stans, eat up, don't say i don't feed yall, enjoy <3, kind of proofread

w/c : ~4k

you realize it now.

after living side by side with mr. choi soobin and his son, beomgyu, for a couple of weeks, you’ve started to realize something quite interesting.

1. your mother has a liking for tall lean men.

2. she also has a liking for trying to set you up with the tall lean mens’ son.

now, you wouldn't say you're exactly opposed to getting close to beomgyu. he's conventionally attractive and he seems like a nice boy but you're very much more attracted to the one who created him. it made sense after all.

"give these to mr. choi for me?" your mother all but shoves the roses and chocolates in your arms. you look down quizzically at such gifts. "it's not valentine's day.." you trail off.

you have a strange feeling that soobin would be put off by such acts, not seeming to be as out there as your mother. she doesn't care.

"it's fathers day..well it was...yesterday," she shrugs, fixing her bombshell red lipstick. why was she doing herself up? well a certain mr. choi was coming over.

despite the fact that your own father was out of the picture, that didn't stop your mom from wanting to celebrate every holiday in existence. unfortunately, the only willing father in town to partake in your mother's antics was mr. choi.

he liked to rile her up, you notice. soobin liked to toy with your mother's clear affection towards him, just as he did you. he also liked to throw it in your face sometimes. you didn't say what you observed but you knew he liked to make her feel wanted by a much younger, much more handsome man.

without another word, you decide to give the outlandish gifts to your neighbor. you sigh, looking down at the gifts. some assorted chocolates, nice flower arrangements, and what seems to be a sealed note? you want to roll your eyes but a part of you wonders if soobin would really like these kinds of things.

when you get to the door and ring the bell, the door swings open and there's stands the man himself. he's more put together than you at the moment so you feel out of place even at the front step of his house.

"always a pleasant surprise~" he smiles. his eyes trail down to the gifts in your arms. "for me?" his eyes grow wide and his pouty lips, the ones which you suddenly can't stop staring at since they seemed to be stained cherry red, lay slightly agape.

"from my mom," you deadpan, holding the gifts out. "she's generous~" "overbearing," you correct. "we seem to have different views then," he shrugs. "where's my gift from you though? this can't be all," he ponders in faux thought.

you smile shyly, looking down in embarrassment. "what did you get me baby?" he teasingly leans down closer to you to properly see your face. "could it be perhaps-"

before soobin can place a hand on you, beomgyu comes from downstairs. he's looking sharp, which suits him a lot, you admit. his hair is parted, giving you a teasing view of his forehead. regardless of the fact that he's wearing casual clothes, a stark contrast from his father who dawns an all black attire, beomgyu still manages to make it work for him.

"we'll be seeing you at the dinner," soobin clears his throat, noticing your apparent staring at his son. you can tell that he feels off put by your slight attraction to beomgyu. however small or minuscule it may be its still there to him.

the dinner goes almost exactly how you thought it would. soobin and your mother hit it off, talking about whatever they could to distract themselves from their children for a while. to your surprise soobin barely interacts with you. he seems too occupied with entertaining your mom to pay you any mind.

you're not sure why but this bothers you. beomgyu is occupied in the bathroom at the moment so you can't help but glance in their direction every couple of seconds. your mom is currently leaning against soobin's broad shoulder, laughing at something he's previously said. so he’s a comedian.

you watch as he looks down at her with a satisfied smile on his face. you bite the inside on your cheek and as if on cue, soobin looks up in your direction and smirks. it's almost as if he's taunting you. you bite down harder until you taste something metallic in your mouth.

you're not sure where this feeling of jealously is coming from and you know it's not healthy but you can't help it. maybe you've gotten too attached to your older neighbor in these past couple of weeks.

beomgyu comes out of the restroom with a sigh, walking back into the living room where you are. he can feel a weird tension in your general area but decides not to comment on it. suddenly you stand up, catching beomgyu off guard.

"come on beomgyu!" you say loud enough for everyone to hear especially soobin. the man in question practically pauses in speech midway to look over at you and his son. he eyes you both, mainly giving you a glare that will be engraved in your mind but you don't care. he needs a taste of his own medicine.

"come on let's go to my room, i need to show you something~" you urge him along. meanwhile, you say those words while staring straight at soobin. you hear your mom assure him that it's ok, "the kids are doing their own thing." you knew you were being childish and petty but if soobin wanted to fuck around with you this is what he would have to deal with as well.

you drag beomgyu along to your room who seems quite eager to be in this position. all he knows is that there's a weird tension between you and his father but that's as far as his knowledge goes.

when you both arrive at your room you close the door behind you and lean back on it. "is everything alright?" beomgyu hesitantly asks. you sigh, ushering him along to sit on the bed with you. he looks around subtly at all the little items in your room. everything seems to reflect you well, in his opinion. "well.." you try to stall.

you look up at him through your lashes. "you like me right?" beomgyu stares at you with wide eyes, "i-i mean yeah?" he stutters at your boldness.

"then lets try something," you smile at him, casually pulling your shirt over your head. "let's see how long it takes for your dad to come see us in this position," you say to yourself.

soobin doesn't need to be a rocket scientist to know what's going on here. he knows you're being a brat on purpose but he doesn't care because it makes it all the more fun. he will say he's surprised that you're using beomgyu, his own son, to get to him.

at first, he was getting annoyed with how you seemed to take a liking for his son which is why he wanted to rile you up by seeming extra interested in whatever your mom had to say. now, however, he knew he had a plan for that. you were not going to outsmart him, he wouldn't allow it and he would just have to put you in your place.

"excuse me but i need to use your restroom," soobin makes up a bullshit excuse to get to where you are. "oh of course!" your mom nods at him, instructing him towards the one upstairs. perfect.

"ill just finish up the dinner then!" your mother offers. "great that's enough time to put this slut in her place," he thinks. he smiles at your mom heading for upstairs.

"beomgyu you look like you just saw a ghost," you chuckle lightly, looking down at him. "y/n," he groans at the sight of only seeing you in your bra. he reaches up to grab your breasts, fondling them as delicately as possible. "you can be rough," you offer.

without even bothering to knock on the door, soobin opens it to see you both on the bed in a lewd position. you shirtless on top of beomgyu. he sucks his teeth when you both look back in alarm at the door being burst open. "y/n," he chuckles, almost sadistically.

you can already see the look in his eyes and suddenly you feel bad for not only yourself but beomgyu as well. you try to subtly grab your shirt again in shame but soobin's glare stops you. "what do you think you're doing little slut?" he folds his arms over his chest. not even caring that beomgyu is in the room, he walks over to you and grabs your hair causing you to yelp in surprise.

"s-sir.." soobin narrows his eyes at you then they flit over to beomgyu. "sit over there," he motions to the beanbag in the corner of the room. "i want you to learn something from this." without another word, beomgyu scrambles over to the seat, his heart beating in fear and excitement strangely.

you feel heat rising up your neck and to your cheeks as well as your dripping pussy. "don't be embarrassed, im sure this was your plan all along," soobin tsks, shoving your face down into the sheets. you breathe out when he rips the skirt and underwear from your body without a second thought. the racy thong that was supposed to be his surprise for father's day discarded in a second.

"soobin-" a smack to your ass. "that's not my name."

he doesn't even give you a chance to correct yourself, messing with your sticky juices before entering his cold fingers into your hole. you try to stifle your moan by burying your head further into the sheets.

"god you're so wet," soobin comments. he slowly moves his finger in and out for a while, practically torturing you with how meticulous and slow he's being. "please," you whine pathetically. "please what?" he slows his movements to stare at you with a raised eyebrow.

"please f-fuck me, please, i need your cock," you beg shamelessly. beomgyu breathes heavily, trying to forget about his growing boner but not being able to ignore it. he painfully wants to do something about it but he's not sure if he's allowed to touch himself.

he opts for subtly dragging his hand to his clothed crotch and palming himself through his pants, as uncomfortable as it is. in the meantime, soobin rids himself of his own pants, shaking his head.

he lightly smacks your throbbing pussy and you jolt. "do you seriously think you deserve it? fuck, look at you, can’t wait to be fucked like a bitch in heat~" you whine, wiggling your ass wordlessly in his face to hopefully get what you want.

soobin rubs your clit with narrowed eyes, making sure beomgyu is watching. he could care less that beomgyu is touching himself. he drags some of your cum from your hole to your clit and sighs. "alright then.."

he aligns himself with your hole and without another word slips his cock in with ease, completely bottoming out.

you want to scream at how big he is but you're only left with ragged pants as you know you're unable to make any loud noises. it seriously feels like you could be torn apart at any minute but you love the feeling of soobin’s cock filling you out.

"you're so tight seriously," soobin breathes. he can barely move at first. the way his dick fits inside of your pussy perfectly. he almost wants to comment about how you were practically made for him. he's sure if he flips you over right now, he would see the outline of his cock in your womb.

after waiting a bit for you to adjust to his length he finally starts moving. "shit-" he breathes. you have to grip the sheets to stop yourself from yelling. soobin's hands find their way to your waist and when you look to the side just for a split second you can see beomgyu fighting for his life to not moan out loud.

"look beomgyu-" soobin says in between jagged breaths. "if you wanna fuck around with his pathetic slut this is how you treat her." a moan gets caught in your throat when soobin pounds into you at once. "ah- i-" a part of you wants to apologize and is trying to but he won't give you a chance to speak.

"isn't that right my slutpuppy? did you have something to add?" at the sound of the nickname your walls tighten around him and he sends a harsh smack to your ass. "you're enjoying this aren't you?" he rolls his eyes and sighs heavily.

soobin thrusts start getting faster and faster, beomgyu watching with his mouth agape at his father kissing and sucking at your neck to muffle his own moans. beomgyu can only bite his lip and noises from his throat barely pass his lips as he reaches his high.

soobin growls at seeing your eyes focus on beomgyu so he starts slamming his cock into you at an animalistic pace and you think you might break.

beomgyu bucks into his hand as he cums from the sound and sight of skin slapping added with the tiny noises you'd make. not too long after you feel yourself shudder, unable to warn soobin that you had come you squeeze your eyes shut and let out a whine instead.

"fuck- ok baby," soobin understands as soon as your walls squeeze around him. he pants a couple a times and as soon as he reaches his high he pulls out, pumping his cock to let his cum shoot out on your ass.

"s-sir," you moan. "shhh it's ok." soobin sighs heavily, coming down from his own high to tend to your broken state. he looks over at beomgyu, who's head is lulled to the side as he gazes at your sweat and semen covered body.

soobin sucks his teeth deciding not to say anything to the boy and let him chill for a minute. he shrugs his pants back on and carries you in his arms to the nearest bathroom.

you cozy up to his warm embrace, letting out a sigh. "baby we need to clean you off.." you hear him whisper. you almost completely forget that there's a dinner that's supposed to be happening and you cant just go to sleep with soobin like you'd want.

a sudden coldness hits your body and you shiver. "ok," you agree. his cum is already starting to dry on you and you want nothing more than to be cleaned like he offers. you're not sure how you'll explain your change of clothes to your mom but you're sure you'll come up with something later.

no words need to be spoken after what happened and you're glad because you're not sure what to say. soobin doesn't seem keen on talking at the moment either, too focused on cleaning you off, so you decide to stay quiet.

it's silent in the bathroom until you both hear your mother all out. "dinner's ready!"

you chuckle, breaking the silence as soobin looks up at you with a questioning eyebrow. “happy father’s day.”

[bonny-kookoo]

Sing to me: JJK x Reader 🔞

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Mermaid AU, Siren!Jungkook, Prince!Jungkook, homeless!Reader, Romance,  Smut duh

Wordcount: 5k (medium)

Tags/Warnings: okay so, spoiled kook, possessive kook, Theres literally an attempted murder lol, drowning? whoops, blood oh no, reader is hella fucking dense ok, biting, courting lol, fish boy is in love, whoops, anyways we got sexy times too, because in this AU fishboy got legs n all of that hah, unprotected sex because, guys pls this ain't supposed to he realistic, wrap it before you tap it folks, its also not all that filthy lol, blink and you'll miss the scene, honestly I didn't include much smut because yall nasty so you will ask for dirty drabbles anyways, not that I mind lol, k I'm done I think, wow mom I've sinned less than usual..

Summary: Help me love myself, and I might learn to love you as well.

Or alternatively: you save Jungkook from being killed, and he totally gets the wrong signals. But he's cute, so its fine. Probably.

Jungkook is floating.

He thinks about what lies above the waves, and cant think of anything he really finds interesting. The surface is littered in junk, in things humans leave behind without thinking twice about it. It's air is thick and stuffy, hard to breathe and never clear at all. It's crowded, with creatures who at the end of the day all look the same in his eyes. There's nothing exciting about the world people walk on.

Its boring, and dirty.

His own home is, compared to that, a kingdom radiating like the moon itself. It shines and sparkles, and harbors some of the most beautiful creatures ever to be found. He and his family, as well as everyone else, live in peace with nature down underneath the waves, existing side by side instead of trying to gain the upper hand all the time.

And he's reminded of the cruelty of man, when he finds himself caught in a net.

He's somehow made the fishermen drop it instead of pulling him up on their boat. But that doesn't mean he's free- he's still struggling with it, fighting it, but he cant rip it apart. All he does really, is tie the knots tighter, have them dig into his skin until spots are rubbed raw. He can't really swim anywhere at this point, gives up as he can see the last lights of his distant home fade into the distance.

Jungkook is floating.

He's slowly being led by the waves, by the love of wind and waters, as he closes his eyes. Its a pity, really; for a prince held so high to die by the mere hands of the poor, he thinks. It's upsetting him, very much so, but he takes it as it is. There's nothing he can do anyways, as he slowly comes into contact with the sand below. It washes him up onto short, the dry sand sticking to his body, waves pushing him higher and higher onto the ground.

He shivers, the cold outside air biting at his skin now unsheltered and defenseless.

He doesn't know how long he lays there.

But at some point, steps are heard on the sand. He keeps his eyes closed, doesn't care about what will happen next- he really just wants to have it be over by now, the ropes already painfully burning his skin at certain spots. He's sure theres sand in his wounds as something touches him- warm fingers, hesitant, and almost shy.

He keeps his eyes closed.

"My god, I hate humans.." You mutter under your breath, your voice hitting his ears, making him notice the way it sounds. He thinks it sounds very similar to some of his kind; sirens being blessed with voices sweet and enchanting. Maybe you were one of the strays who had decided to live on the surface for some reason? But your smell was entirely human, although much sweeter and pleasant than anyone he'd met before. And then, after a small short moment of pain-

He's free.

His arms flop to his side, and he breathes in deeply- finally able to fully move again. His eyes open, and adjust to the night for a moment, before they meet yours.

How interesting.

"Jungkook?" Jimin asks him, curious to what has gotten the young Siren so occupied. Typically, Jungkook would be watching the annual kingdom dances with at least some form of interest; even if it was just a glimpse of it, just to make his parents worry less about him misbehaving. But today, as the graceful dancers move around to the orchestra playing, the young prince is absolutely not there. At least not mentally. "Jungkook." The older one scolds, getting Jungkooks attention- his gaze hard and annoyed. "Please, young prince- at least try to pretend you're interested. This is after all part of our culture." He strategically uses his title as teasing- something which makes Jungkook snort without any fun.

"I really don't want to be here." He explains, and Jimin sighs. "I'd rather be at the surface.." He mumbles, being careful not to be too loud- but Jimin does pick it up, and so does his partner, Taehyung, next to him- now leaning a bit forward to hear better.

"Oh?" Jimin asks. "What could be of interest there, I wonder?" He teases, and Jungkook grows even more irritated.

"Nothing that should interest a whore like you." He says harshly, though Jimin knows he means no harm with it. Jimin is, after all, a man who enjoys the simple pleasures in life- which is why he can't quite grasp why Jungkook, a young man in his prime like himself, doesn't seem to care about whats going on around him.

"Hm, but I think she must be absolutely divine if you're willing to risk the wrath of your own mother just to see her." He says, and Taehyung snickers next to him, clearly amused.

But to both of their surprise, Jungkook grows.. calm. Theres even a glimpse of a smile on his lip as he rests his head on his head, elbow on the armrest of his throne. "That she is." He says, quietly, as he watches the young woman in front of him. He has to imagine you there instead, moving oh so gracefully to the sounds of his Kingdom's greatest musicians- dressed in the most beautiful gown he'd gift you. "That she is.." He repeats, a dreaming look on his face that Jimin has not seen before.

Jungkook watches you.

He enjoys watching you on your daily trips to the beach, picking up cans and bottles, and other things people throw away without care. You're cleaning up the beach, and he thinks its a very good behavior- he likes the way you always carefully scan the ground and sides for any garbage. He swims a little closer as he spots you squatting down; eyes lighting up as you pick up a shell he'd personally not care much for. It's slightly pink- but nothing he hasn't seen in his life. They're so common, and he suddenly thinks that if this already makes you happy, what if he was to bring you something else? Something better, something more worth your attention?

He feels a rush of excitement.

Dashing into the opposite direction, he makes his way towards the ground below, eyes scanning the ground as he searches for something. He spots it after a few minutes of searching, but when he holds the pearl, he hesitates.

Its not enough.

No, that's not what you should get. He's only paying back his dept, yeah, that's what he's doing. But what if he was overdoing it by bringing you something too expensive or rare? No, he should be smart about it, yeah. Start small, and work your way up he thinks, as he takes the pearls he's collected while deep in thought, and pushes himself back to the top, swimming easily. He hopes you're still there-

And there you are, dipping your feet into the water.

He looks at what he can see; only able to see clearly underneath the waves rather than above. There's a bracelet hanging around your ankle, and it looks cheap, he thinks. It only helps him by giving him ideas for his next gifts- if you would accept his first, that is. He's never been rejected before, but then again, has always rejected instead. Nothing had interested him to the extend you did. Maybe you really were of his kind, secretly.

When he slowly brings his head up the waves, you don't get scared, or flinch. You simply look, spot him, and smile.

He likes that expression.

He comes closer, free hand helping him onto the stone you sit on, his hand holding your gift eagerly pushing against yours. You understand quickly, and open them, and he smiles. You're smart, he notes, and it only adds to your qualities, he thinks. Dropping the pearls, your eyes sparkle again- as they should, he thinks with pride. You inspect them with big eyes, as if you've never seen something alike. He enjoys your reaction- and you nod at him. "Thank you- are they for me to keep?" You ask, pointing to them, and then at your chest. He's not fully fluent in human language, but has picked up on some words and phrases, since Seokjin had recently strayed- teaching him some stuff whenever he got bored and visited his younger brother.

So Jungkook nods. "You." He says, and you like the sound of his voice; fittingly just as handsome as the rest of him, you think. But then again- his kind is known for its beauty and enchanting voices. "Keep." He tells you, pushing your closed palm a bit closer to your body as if to underline his statement. You think its cute, in a way.

"Okay." You say. "I'll keep them-?" You ask, and he doesn't understand, until you point to yourself, and say a name- yours, he supposes.

"Ah-" He starts, pointing to himself. "Jungkook. Jeon, Jungkook." He tells you, and you nod, smiling.

"It's nice to meet you, Jeon Jungkook." You smile, and he grins back, slightly sharpened canines in stark contrast with his bunny-like smile.

He thinks its nice to meet you too.

"But you're a witch, aren't you?" Jungkook argues, staring at Taehyung. "I thought you were all so capable." He challenges, and Taehyungs eyes darken- quite literally, since sea witches do technically have black eyes- but conceal them, as to not scare off people. He regains his composure however when Jimins hand lays on his shoulder.

"Now now, no need to become huffy." He says. "He didn't say he can't do it- he simply told you that its not that easy." He explains, and Jungkook sighs, rolling his eyes. Ever the spoiled prince, they think to themselves.

"I don't care about that." He states. "Can you do it, or can you not?" He asks, and Taehyung thinks for a moment.

"I.." He begins, before he sighs. "I can. But, there's a catch, Jungkook." He tells him, and this time, the youngest of the group seems just as serious as he listens. "I can't promise that.. the result will be what you will expect." He says.

"What do you mean?" Jungkook asks.

"There's a chance she won't survive it."

He doesn't think much about why you're so often sitting on that rocky structure close to the deep- he likes not having to get out of the water to be close to you. And you think, Jungkook is quite the interesting being.

He’s curious; that much you can tell. His hands rest on your knees, your toes sometimes brushing against his abdomen as he swims closer- face coming forward to properly look at you. His vision must be bad outside of the waters you assume, his brown eyes squinting in concentration until he huffs and let’s himself back into the waters. You chuckle, and simply take off your jacket, slipping into the water as well as you control your breath- his entire face brightening at your body now underwater in his world, finally clear to see for his eyes.

You’re pretty, he thinks, definitely prettier than any other human he’d encountered before. The clothes covering your breasts and private parts a bit dull and boring for his taste- but he’d change that soon. He smiles, happy, before holding up his finger as if to signal for you to wait before he swims away, elegantly and fast. You swim up to breath some air, catch your breath, until there’s a hand around your calf, holding, fingers running over the skin, signaling you to come down again. You follow his question, taking a deep breath to meet him underneath the surface; his excited hands wrapping something around your neck, before he swims in circles as if he’s suddenly got too much energy. You point to yourself, as if to ask if you can keep it- and he nods, wide eyes watching you with a smile that you can’t help but mirror.

You don't quite realize what he's doing.

He however thinks you know. You know that he's courting you, and you're interested in him. You know that he's just given you more than a simple gift. He only believes you're letting him work for it- something he happily does, taking on the challenge as always. He swims closer, holds your shoulders, as his eyes look into yours, his gaze happy and child-like almost. He's close to finally showing you affection- but you suddenly swim to the surface instead.

And even though he knows you only wanted to breathe, he can't help but feel slightly sour at the ruined moment.

"You're awfully happy these days." His mother says, watching her son in the gardens of the palace. "May I ask what has gotten you in such a bright mood?" She asks, and Jungkook doesn't quite know how to break it to her. He knows its not forbidden, knows it has, and does, happen each and every day it seems- but there's still fear inside of him. Theres still hesitation, even though he is not ashamed of what has happened- of what he has done. His mother however notices. "You know you can trust me, right?" She says, and he nods.

Its now or never.

"I've found a mate." He says, and his mother smiles warmly, holding his cheek as she kisses it in congratulation. "Its a human." He says, quietly, hurried- but his mother continues to smile.

"I have suspected as much." She states. "Your friend- Park Jimin- is not very good at talking quietly." She snickers, and Jungkook curses under his breath about how he wants to strangle him. Theres a huge weight lifted off of him however; finally having said it, made it very real to him, in a way- even though it was already.

Because, after all; you were wearing his kingdom's sigil around your neck already. He had claimed you.

He's restless the next time he swims to the shore to meet you again- eager to see you to give you the news of his family's acceptance.

You're late- later than usual, and his brows are furrowed, mood upset at your mannerism. You're usually always on time, always just as eager to see him he thinks- but this time, you're not there. After his anger however, he grows increasingly worried instead. What if something had happened to you instead? Oh what a bad person he would be to be mad at you for getting into an unfortunate situation. As guilt slowly makes his way into his body, claims his muscles, he moves to sit on the stone he usually finds you on. He tries to look around- rain on his skin making it possible to be out way more comfortably.

He spots movement above.

Theres a person he can't make out- throwing something off the cliff down into the sea, and Jungkook clicks his tongue in anger, already upset- but still curious on what it was the person had been so eager to discard. Typically, its tiny things or plastic he finds- but this is something else, he knows.

Underwater, he smells blood.

His pupils contract, eyes widening, as he spots the black bag slowly making its way to the bottom of the sea- red trail leading from it. Its not the blood however that makes him frantic- its the smell of it, of you, that stops his heart.

He gets you out the bag, his anger over the entire situation diminishing into nothing as he holds you close, eyes spotting the deep cut on your side, and the scratches on your face. Unsure where to bring you, he holds you close, brings you onto his back as one of his hands hold yours, your arms around his neck. He swims quickly to the only place he knows you can breathe.

The underwater cave is big enough for now, he thinks, as he brings your body onto the ground, out the water. He doesn't notice he's crying, doesn't quite speak, his native language of clicking sounds and little noises escaping him as he whines out for your attention, waiting for you to wake up somehow. He's been so invested in making you like him and accept him that he's got no idea what to do with a human. Are you cold? How can he warm you up? How does he stop bleeding wounds? How much can you bleed before you die? Are you already dying?

Jungkook doesn't know what to do. So he simply lays by your side, holding you close, in hopes his slightly higher body temperature can keep you warm.

"He's doing the best he can-" Jimin says, Seokjin next to Taehyung as they both lean over your body. Both witches are concentrated, already exhausted, but there's no way they're giving up on you now. Not only because you're important to Jungkook- but because no one deserves to simply die like this.

"I know, I know!" Jungkook huffs out, pupils turned into cat like slits- a clear sign of the absolute terror and chaos inside of him. "What if they're best isn't good enough? Jimin, I can't loose her, you don't understand-" He starts, but Jimin holds the younger one's shoulders, for the first time serious with him.

"I do." He glances at Taehyung. Jimin had saved Taehyung before as well- the young sea witch having been hit by a fisherman's harpoon years ago. Ever since then, Jimin had been attached to the witch like glue. "Trust me, I really do. And they're doing all they can to make sure she's going to be fine." He promises, and Jungkook nods.

All he can do is pray.

When you wake up, there's several things you notice.

First, you're alive. Having a raging headache, and your limbs and muscles feel horribly tender, but you're alive. There's also strings of rope tied to two rock formations acting like a clothing line, several blankets and clothes hanging from it. They don't look human-made to you- the fabrics and designs not something you would think of as regular. There's a bucket and several stained rags- now copper-brown with old blood. Its then that you look down, seeing your cut sewed shut.

You also notice its rather soft underneath you.

Its sheepskin laid over seaweed you notice- the whool soft and fluffy, and warm. Everything seems to be so thoughtfully placed, even some decorative items- you can spot fireflies casually sitting in a jar close by, and burned wood, probably to . Probably to make light during the night. You're tired however, so you simply lay down again. Quite honestly, surely you should fee worried about the situation- but then again, there was no one to miss you, no place you called your home anyways. No use in worrying- because deep down, you had your suspicion.

A Jungkook swims to the surface with the plastic box in his arms, he's careful not to throw it too hard onto the ground. As he steps out the water, he's sure to at least try and his his hands of most the water before he goes to check on the blankets he had brought this early morning. They've dried enough, he notices, and is glad about that, as he picks one up.

You don't have to be cold anymore, he thinks.

He's unnaturally careful for his typical character- his usual behavior quite the opposite as it was now. Now, he's making sure you're properly tucked in, as he notices your eyes watching him.

He freezes, for a moment.

Jungkook hasn't really thought much about what would happen if you were to wake up- after all, Seokjin had told him he was unsure if you were to wake up this early in the first place, and Taehyung didn't even know if you would wake up at all. He'd told his younger brother to be prepared for any reaction really; fear, confusion, maybe even anger. But you seem calm, curious even, and Jungkook decides to sit down in front of your face, waiting.

"You brought me here, right?" You ask, and he nods, eyes not leaving your form.

"You-.. hurt." He points to the spot where your wound had been. "Also hurt." His hand points to your head. "Brothers, helped." He informs you, and you smile, nodding at his words. He suddenly looks at the ground, mumbling. "I.. worried. Thought... you, dying." He tells you, and you sit up slowly again, keeping the blanket around your shoulders.

"I'm not dead though." You say, and he nods. "Thank you, Jungkook. Now we're even." You say, and he tilts his head in confusion- a mannerism you could only think of as cute. "I saved you- you saved me." You say, and he smiles, nodding.

"I-" He starts, leaning forward a bit, now way more energetic and lighthearted as before. "I- we-" He growls a little in frustration, and you cant help but giggle at his troubles- the chirps and clicks escaping him foreign- but somehow, they feel hazy, as if your mind knows the language, but has forgotten what it meant. He's trying so hard you notice, and appreciate. "You like here?" He asks, and points around. You nod, and he beams at you. "I made." He tells you, proudly so.

"I guessed as much. Its very thoughtful of you, thank you." You say, and he nods, happy you like what he did for you. Its not a permanent solution, obviously, but as soon as you're healed well enough, he already planned a new spot for you to come with him.

You just don't know it yet.

There's a weird feeling inside of you.

It's like homesickness, you think. Every time you look at the waters, you feel- sad? It's making you uneasy, and with every day passing by, it just gets worse and worse. But it's today, that you cant take it.

When you dip your legs into the water, it soothes an ache you can't recognize ever having. It helps your skin, it somehow feels as if you're breathing again. But It's not enough, you think- before you let yourself fall into the deep end.

You're floating.

It's like leaving a stuffy and crowded mall, just to stand in a park, fresh air after it had rained, and light breeze clearing your head. Everything is silent, but not at the same time- the water around you feeling as if you're being hugged, held. It makes you relax, makes you let go, makes you only exist for a moment.

You're floating.

And there's a sudden wave of realization that you're also breathing. There's no water in your lungs- or maybe there is, and you just don't feel it being there. Darkness surrounds you as you don't know where you are exactly- theres no telling where is where, no way to know if you're upright or not. Maybe you've died?

Did you drown?

If you did, it would explain Jungkook being there. He's swimming towards you with a face full of worry, as he grabs your wrist and holds you close. "I can't even let you out of my sight for a mere day it seems, my love." He sighs, and your eyes widen. Its almost comedic how his own do the same, focusing on your neck, as he touches.

You're sensitive, and shift away from his touch.

"It-" He starts, now holding your shoulders, as he begins to smile. "It worked! It really did- by the dragon kind, you look absolutely divine!" He laughs, and can't help but hold your hands, eyes roaming your appearance, as you don't quite get it- until you follow his gaze.

Just like him, there's fins now on the sides of your calfs, smaller ones on your ankles as well. Theres also ones decorating your outer forearms- they look like the ones you'd always see on goldfish as a kid. There's something alike to scales as well, but barely noticable. "I- what happened to me?" You ask, and Junkook smiles.

"You.. almost died." He admits, taking your hand and swimming to what you assume is back towards the cave. "You had been robbed during the day, and when I found you.. well, you know what happened." He says. "While you were asleep, we were thinking about what to do. There was no way you would survive as a human- so, a friend of mine- Taehyung- performed a ritual, together with Seokjin, my brother." He says. You finally spot light, glad to be able to have at least some form of orientation. "I'm glad you're adjusting so quickly, my love." He states, smiling at you.

You notice the petname again.

"Jungkook-" You start, as you both reach the cave again, sitting on the edge of where the ground of the cave meets the water. "Why are you.. calling me that?" You ask, and Jungkook seems confused.

"Why do you ask?" He questions. And you don't quite follow, until he continues. "You're my mate- I am only addressing you as such."

Your eyes widen. "Wait- we're-" You start, and its only then that it clicks in Jungkooks head.

"Oh." He says- the dissapointment bitter and evident in his voice. "You.. didn't know?" He asks, and you shake your head, unsure what he means. "I see.." He tells you, suddenly distant. "I.. will bring you breakfast tomorrow.. sleep well." He abruptly says, and before you can say anything, he's already gone.

What just happened?

"There you are!" A voice says, deeper than Jungkooks, but not unfamiliar. Taehyung had been visiting and bringing you food and nescessities ever since that talk with Jungkook. This time, however, Taehyung seems like he wants to say something. You look at him, silently urging him, and he sits down next to you, sighing.

"Does he hate me?" You ask, quietly, and Taehyung looks sad.

"He could never." He says. "He just.. didn't take the rejection well. He'll need time to come around. It won't take that much time- his mother is already trying to get a new partner for him." He explains, and your head whips around towards him. "I- you.. did reject him, right?" He asks, slowly. "You do.. not love him, right?" He urges again, and you groan suddenly, throwing your face into your hands.

"Oh my god I'm so stupid.." You say. "It all.. everything was so overwhelming, I didn't even notice what he was doing." You cry into your hands, as Taehyungs hand places itself onto your back, trying to soothe you. "I though.. especially after I found out about his status.." You mumble. "How could he want me?" You ask, and Taehyung sighs.

"Head up, little siren." He says. "He's still able to hear you sing, if you want to." He says, and you look at him.

"But how?" You say. "I have no idea where the kingdom, or anything really is. And he won't come see me until its too late." You say.

"Well-" Taehyung says, standing up, and holding out his hand. "-allow me to escort the future princess to her lover."

"How did you find me?" He simply asks, not turning around, as you float closer. "I'm sorry, but I still need time to.. get over-" He starts, but you don't let him finish, instead leaning into his back, your arms around his middle.

"I'm stupid." You say. "I'm really, really stupid." He shakes his head, but you continue. "Just because I didn't realize- doesn't mean that I don't feel anything for you." You say. "I just.. felt unworthy, I guess. Insignificant." You admit, and he turns around, holding your face in his hands.

"You really are not gifted with the mind of the dragons king, my love." He states teasingly, the glimmer in his eyes returning. "My status means nothing to me, if that meant I could not have you." He says, and you lean forward, capturing his lips. "I hope you know what this meant, at least." He teases, and your eyes widen, scared you might've done something wrong. "It means you love me." He says, and you chuckle.

"Good." You say. "Because I do."

Even though he thinks you looked like a goddess reborn in your white and pearl decorated gown from the wedding, he enjoys you without it, close to him, just as much. He's alive, he's feeling, he's in love, as his hands move over your skin, his senses filled with you and nothing else.

The sounds you make for him are sweeter than any siren's song he's ever heard or could ever sing himself. No member of his kind is as enchanting as you, he decides, as he bites and kisses the sensitive skin of your neck. Jimin had teased him relentlessly the entire evening and night by trying to send you sweet words, to which you didn't react- but that didn't mean that it didn't piss him off.

You were his.

His princess- and soon to be queen, one day.

And he's planning on making that very evident, as he marks up your skin with little bites, visible for everyone to see. He wants everyone to know, even though by tomorrow, the entire Kingdom will celebrate the marriage of its prince anyways. He's more than ready to show you off, to hold you close, to have people see the divine being at his side that's you.

It's only natural for his hands to roam your skin, for his lips to worhip every inch it seems, as you reach out for his hand every second it leaves you. It's painfully endearing he thinks, how you can be so innocent and pure, while he's between your legs, performing the sinful act of pleasuring you with his mouth.

You pull him towards you, as you straddle his waist, leaning down to kiss him. He's in god's divine lands he thinks, as he suddenly feels you sinking down on his awaiting length. You fit around him perfectly, more so than he could've ever imagined. And as you both move, he holds you close, happy that here, in his world, he doesn't need to breathe.

He can kiss you as long as he wants.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. I spilled strawberry milk on my poor laptop while writing this.

[jjungkooksthighs]

Yearn for You | jjk (m)

◊  Pairing: vice president and boyfriend!jungkook x secretary and girlfriend!reader x ceo!jimin ft. co-founder!taehyung

◊  Genre: fluff and smut / established relationship / office au

◊  Rating: 18+ / nsfw

◊  Word Count: 31.5k (honestly another whopper but are we surprised?)

◊  Summary: As a secretary, it is not proper to engage in intimate affairs with your superior, who is the one you are meant to be at their beck and call for in the business world. The world, however, means very little to Jungkook, the vice president of Bangtan Industries and more importantly, your boss and boyfriend of three years. In all that time, he has never cared for hiding your passionate affections for one another and tonight will be no different after a particularly amusing day of teasing you and watching you fall prey to your desires for him that he revels in amidst his fervid love for you. In that love that has shifted his entire globe in how completely and wholly he has fallen for you, he will do anything to make you, his beloved girlfriend, happy. So, after some efforts to toy with you, he allows you to have some playtime with a very special friend whilst he delights himself in your entertaining little game.

◊  Warnings: hard dom!jungkook, possessive/jealous!jungkook, big cock!jungkook, sub!reader, sub!jimin, lots of dirty talk, pet names,  lots and lots of teasing, praise, fingering, grinding,  thigh riding, phone sex (taehyung listens in on the threesome), masturbation (male and female), cunnilingus/oral sex, unprotected sex (reader has birth control implant in her arm and Koo hates condoms lbr), breast/nipple play, biting (there’s a bunch), marking through hickeys, sucking, pussy stretching, rough and possessive sex, anal sex, double penetration (this is a jikook threesome with reader y’all), cock riding, cock warming, begging, muscle kink, scratching, light choking, cum feeding/eating, manhandling, pinning down, multiple orgasms, wet and messy sex, degradation kink (koo calls you a slut/whore for him only like two or three times each), orgasm control, orgasm denial, squirting, creampie, multiple orgasms, edging, exhibitionism, voyeurism, daddy kink, reader goes into subspace for a little bit, mild bdsm, anal fingering, anal sex, vaginal sex and aftercare (from jungkook)

◊  A/N: Gosh, this one is finally here after two weeks! This fic is not like anything I have ever written before, but I know that there will be people out there that like this! It’s very hot if I do say so myself and it was such a joy to write in my lust-filled craze that I’ve been inflicted with in the wake of D’ICON Jungkook (even though that particular look is not part of this fic lmao). I blame Jungkook’s overwhelming sexiness that always has me ready to drop to my knees for this fic because honestly it’s all his fault.

Oh, and I know some of my readers have been waiting for COC, but because I have been tight on money, I decided to write this as a commission for the wonderful @jeonsjiddies. I hope you like it, babe! Oh, and that lovely banner you see above? That is courtesy of the fantastic @nightshadevinter. I thank the both of you for your continued support of my work and do hope that you enjoy reading this as much as I was entertained by writing it.

As always, guys, please let me hear your thoughts on my work! There’s nothing that is more gratifying as an author than to get feedback on what you spent so much of your time creating! Finally, if Tumblr is crashing because the fic is so long, you can find the AO3 link right here !

The day’s hours wane amidst the sun that sets behind you as you watch the last of your coworkers slip through the elevator doors of the twenty-story building, your heels clicking against the marbled tiling of the highest floor in the corporate property belonging to Bangtan Industries, the most well-known architectural firm in the industry.

 In one hand you have papers fresh out of the printer, your eyes trained on the small font that outlines the topics of discussion and areas of interest for tomorrow’s meeting as you skim through them. As the secretary of both the vice president and the CEO of the company, you had always been the mediator of their affairs, which meant that you never had a moment of rest while at the office.

 Because your charge was attending to the ever incessant happenings between your bosses as the two most high-ranking individuals in the company, you never had a moment of respite (not that you minded). The constant hustle and hullabaloo that was dealt in their wake left you in an ever flowing state of motion and you liked the grind. It meant you never were bored by their occupancies at work, for they always ensured that you had something to busy yourself with.

 The fact that your CEO looked to have been brought to life by an artist’s brush in his beauty while your vice president (and consequently, your boyfriend after some years together) appeared to have been sculpted by the gods in his handsomeness surely was a bonus, however, for whenever your sight would begin to blur because of long hours spent drafting and writing across your computer screen, a simple glimpse at either of them had your visage instantly clearing in the clarity of attraction that perceived itself between your legs when they’d stare back at you in stolen moments of passing.

 As you scavenge the paperwork for any errs that you may have missed, you don’t notice the silhouette the crosses the cubicles hedging the floor as you navigate through the maze of them, your irises narrowing as you huff in the realization that you forgot to properly align the addendum toward the end of the files in your hurry to finish and be out of the office after six o’clock per the orders of your CEO.

 When you cross the threshold to your office, the walls of glass that are curtained with silvery gold silk are opened to allow the sun to bathe you in its comforting heat that settles warmly over your stiff bones as you drop the paperwork atop your desk and rest your hand on it as you let your eyelids fall over your irises with the sun that coaxes you to luxuriate in its golden rays in a momentary lapse of silent solace from the toils of the day’s efforts.

 Behind you, a shadow cloaks you before a deep, low-timbre voice swathes you in its hold as it teases, “Enjoying the afternoon sun, baby? You should really head on home right about now, hmm? It’s getting late,” his eyes trail down your back and drop to the swell of your ass that strains against the small, short pencil skirt it is pushed up against before he continues, “We wouldn’t want the boss to get mad because you broke rules and stayed past six o’clock, now would we?”

 “Vice President Jungkook,” you squeak, his voice stringing you up and twining you around the fingers that-after many years of dreaming about them- now touch you in your most intimate sectors of your body in his unceasing relentlessness of rapturous intent that drive him to find himself between your legs every night, morning and afternoon that he could entertain. You had once wondered how a man could possibly rival an incubus in how he seemed to thrive with the more that you gave him and before him, you’d been abstinent as a nun. He had quickly changed that once you’d succumbed to his dark promises that had been wrapped in sin’s lace as he’d covered you with them with a tongue too long to be anything but devilish. It’s been years since you first got together, but he still renders you to be in need of an exorcist in the spirit of sex that has possessed your soul in its binding to him.

 You put a hand to your chest in startlement before you turn to face him to go on, “I didn’t hear you come in. Is there something you wanted to discuss? I just was going to finish up Jimin’s,” you clear your throat under his constricting gaze that constringes you for a battle of air as you correct yourself, “the CEO’s itinerary for Wednesday after fixing up the topic outline for tomorrow’s meeting with the board of directors.”

 It was amazing how after several years together, he could still whisk your breath away from you with one glance.

 Your superior hums, “Mmm, busy girl as always, aren’t you?” He takes a step inside your office, the sun’s light beams a stark contrast to the dark suit he wears that is colored black like the night sky, the silvery stitching in thin lines along his coat shining like streaks of falling stars in the movement as he suavely exhorts, “Did you happen to have time to send to me my travel arrangements for the week? Make sure you clear time for yourself to attend the gala with me on Thursday. I meant to tell you that earlier when you were feeding me my lunch in my office,” he confides lowly as two hands grip the edge of the chair that sits in front of your desk while he carries on, “Thank you for that, by the way. My hand was so sore from constructing the miniature model of the new tower we are building. I’m so glad you were there to assist me in erecting it and that you could sate my hunger earlier today. I was ravenous, you see.”

 Your cheeks flame in remembrance of the way his deft, long tongue had wrapped around the fork you’d presented to him, the creamy alfredo sauce coating his pink lips suspiciously similar to the cum he’d expertly and easily draw out of you every time he ravaged you or the essence you’d taint yourself with during the forbidden hours of the night when you touched yourself to fantasies of him in the midst of his absence due to the longer hours that he was required to work at the firm.

 You’d never heard anyone groan from ‘the succulent taste of the meal’ as your vice president had, but you’d be damned if you didn’t enjoy every delicious sound that had dripped from his mouth as he’d opened his lips to welcome you when you’d draped the noodles across his tongue.

 Needless to say that after that particular encounter, you’d had to escape to the bathroom for about twenty minutes to relieve the ache between your thighs that had garnished and cooked your insides for him until you burned with the need to release the steam that wouldn’t escape you without his guiding hand.

 In all of that, you’d been entirely oblivious to the two sets of eyes that had been fixated on you while they watched you with utter absorption. With the visage of your cheeks that had reddened from the blood that had rushed to them and the slow, uneven walk you’d taken back to your office amidst your thighs that stung from your efforts, it had been all too apparent that you hadn’t really gone to use the restroom for the purpose it was intended to be used for.

 Jungkook himself had smirked at that and when his irises had switched away from you and to his own boss, the CEO, whom had his own workspace directly next to his own, Jimin’s teeth had gnawed on his lower lip until you disappeared behind the curtains of your office before resuming with the Skype conference with one of the company’s chairmen.

 With your head full of your illicit indecency that the man standing in front of you now had caused earlier, you try to fight past the fluttery feeling in your chest as you splutter, “U-um, well, it was no problem at all!” You croak as one of his brows lift in amusement as you fidget under his all-encompassing stare to blurt, “Always a, uh, pleasure helping you, Jungkook.”

 Truly, you don’t know how you managed to acquire a degree in English with how eloquence seems to suddenly be a foreign concept to your mind, but your vice president seems to be wholly unbothered and oppositely entertained by it as one side of his lips lift while he cocks his head to the side to divulge, “A pleasure indeed, Y/N,” his voice dips as he comes ever closer to you, his palms now splaying over your desk as his long, iron colored tie swings forward to dangerously dangle close to your own hand that twitches in the want to grasp it and pull him forward until his lips have nowhere to go but on your own as he urges, “You always take care of me so well. I want to return the favor to you, but I just,” his irises lower from your eyes to your mouth as you draw your lip between your teeth and when they rise back up once more, he professes, “can’t put my finger,” he drums his index and middle fingers along the timber of your desk, “on how I want to repay the favor.”

 Memories of last night filter through your mind like an echoing song as they tune your brain to the way he’d pummeled into you, your legs thrown over his shoulders as he’d ravished you after you’d begged him to let you ride his face and you’d dared to sit back and grab his cock in the midst of his attentions to your pussy. You’d screamed through the delicious pleasure that was too much to bear and he’d been more than eager to leave you a mess of limbs and cum on the bed in his wake as he’d fucked you so crazedly, his efforts guided by the need to see you ruined with his seed a success in how mercilessly he’d given it to you and how greedy you’d been to take it all.

 Heat floods your core at the anything but holy thoughts, for your boyfriend surely became a demon in bed that you would gladly fall to your knees to be taken by over and over again.

 “You,” you swallow past the lump in your throat and have to remind yourself to keep your legs locked together lest you succumb to the urge to rub them against each other as you give a choked answer, “you don’t have to do anything. My salary is payment enough.”

 “Oh, but is it? Is there nothing else I could give you to show you how much I appreciate you?” He looms closer, his raven’s wing hued hair kissing at the tips of his cheeks while tenderly embracing the sides of his forehead amidst the hands of oils that part it down the middle and slick it in their essence as he inquires, “Is there not some kind of bonus that you desire? Say it and it is yours, my beloved secretary. After all,” his eyes glint tellingly, “you’ve always been such a good girl for me. I want to reward you, beautiful. Will you let me?”

 “Jungkook,” your cheeks heat up as you whimper, “Please.”

 You try not to think about the implications of what your response might lead one to believe, but under his heady gaze, there’s little you can do but let your words tumble from your mouth.

 He’s called you beautiful a number of times whilst in the presence of other clients and coworkers and each time, your heart had done a flip against your ribcage. The fifth month after he’d become your boyfriend, you’d once questioned him why he called you that and he’d simply shrugged his shoulders before offering, “I should think you would know, pretty girl. It’s because I find you attractive.”

  You’d gone home that night after he’d vowed to bring you your favorite takeout food to make up for having to stay longer at the firm and you’d hugged him with the dumbest smile stretching across your features before turning to leave while he’d smiled fondly at you as you’d skipped like a lovestruck teenager all the way back to your apartment and wondered all night long what he might have been doing while you’d put on your favorite k-drama and bundled yourself up in blankets for your nightly binge of the show, your thoughts void of anything and everything that was not Jungkook in your straying attention from your tv session that was entirely your boyfriend’s fault.

 When he’d come home to you that night, he’d made sure you victualed atop his lap while you’d fidgeted with an ulterior motive leading your body, your moans of enjoyment for the soup he spooned to you all too loud and drawn out amidst your purposeful movements that had been quick to have him hardening beneath you and before you’d known what had happened, he’d thrown you atop the table and fucked you well into the morning hours.

 Now, in the silence that has seeped through the office in the lack of occupancy that is limited only to you and your two bosses, the word has an entirely sinful meaning in the deepness he’s pillaged it with.  

 When he darkly chuckles, mischievousness and everything that promises lasciviousness colors the sound as he pushes off your desk and stalks damningly closer to you, his much taller frame engulfing your own as he hovers before you to lowly inquire, “What do you want, beautiful? Say it,” he steers himself around the desk until he stands in front of you, anticipation welling up within you as he wraps one arm around you until one palm is pressed against the small of your back and in one fluid motion, he streams your body against his, your breasts cascading along his chest as you suck in a breath at the rocky plane of muscle laid over him even through layers of clothing, your hands-as if siphoned forth to him-planting themselves along his pectorals as he utters, “Tell your boss how bad you want it.”

 “Vice President,” your breath hitches when another hand boldly finds purchase along your ass before it slides down to cup your thigh as he pulls your leg up and around him so that it is wrapped around his slim, hourglass waist as you fight the mists of lust that cloud your abdomen as you try, “we c-can’t. This isn’t…it’s not proper.”

 “Do you think I give a damn about niceties when you’re fucking tempting me with how short that little skirt that barely covers your ass is?” He growls as he ducks his head, his lips ghosting along the sensitive junction just under your ear as the hand on your thigh trails upward, his digits just grazing your panties as you shakily sigh out while his other hand dives under your blouse before he husks, “Do you think it is proper to go in the bathroom and fuck yourself with your fingers after you fucking fed me with them? Huh?”

 “You were watching me, vice president?” You gulp at the realization that he knew, “I thought I had been discreet…”

 “Such a dirty little girl,” he muses as the fingers he’s snuck under your V-necked linen shirt run along your skin in languid circles before he blows a puff of warm air against your neck, your skin prickling in his wake as he noses at your jaw, “Did you honestly think that when you went to the ladies room for twenty fucking minutes that I timed on my watch that I didn’t know what you were doing?” His lips brush against the column of your neck as you let your head fall back in silent offering to him as he goes on, “Did you honestly believe that when you walked out of there and wafted the smell of sex across the office that I couldn’t fucking tell what you were doing in there as you fucked yourself while you thought about me?”

 Caught as you are in his hold, you cannot escape the mortification that drops like an anchor to your shoulders and then down through the bowels of your body in its infinite heaviness at the realization that he’s got you red-handed. Embarrassment is what has your lids closing in your inability to see the source of your lust swim in the knowledge of the waters of your sins that streamed from him.

 Despite it all, his digits draggle along your southward lips as he rubs them against your pussy, your walls clenching around nothing as he groans at the wetness that begins to coat your panties as he coos, “Fuck, you’re so naughty, babygirl. Look at that pretty cunt cry for me because it’s been neglected without the only one that really satisfies it,” his finger pulls the ruined cloth away from you and suddenly the hand that had been exploring the ridges of your spine dips in its exploration to pool around your hip and with a dangerous flash of his eyes, he pulls you down over a semi-hardening bulge between his legs, a moan slipping from your lips as he impels you against his member to grunt, “You like this, baby? Does it turn you on to know that I’m aware that you got off to me in the bathroom? Would’ve been so fucking hot to see you get fucked with your fingers, baby. God, it’s making me hard just thinking about it.”

 His dirty words soil you in as he covers you with them just as tangibly as you’d been spoiled by your own juices, your brain short circuiting in the jolts of heat he wracks you with as his touch thunders over your skin that begins dewing with the beads of sweat in the high temperature that he flusters you with.

From the very first time you’d seen him years ago in the shabby little bar where time had seemed to stop as you’d locked eyes with him while he passed you by, you had been under his spell and now, as he holds you to him with desire simmering in his gaze, you’re struck with that sensation of beating wings in your chest as you let him finally lay his lips over the junction of skin along your collarbone, the pillow of his lips bedding themselves over you lightly as the fingers of one of your hands curl inward into his shirt in your effort to hold onto something to ground yourself against the lightness lifting at your insides as you manage the only word that your mind can possibly internalize in the midst of your fading cognition with a whisper, “Jungkook.”

 Your vice president smirks against your skin as he bedecks you in his osculation. Saliva is left in his aftermath as featherlight kisses are flitted along your collarbone and when the hand on your waist pushes you down onto him to urge your hips into moving, you whine as he combines this with the stroke of his fingers at your steadily swelling bud of nerves that gardens the flower of your pussy.

 “Answer to me, beautiful,” he brings you both back until his back hits the glass wall, his hips instantly rolling into yours as he coaxes your other leg to join your other around his waist before he flicks a long, hot tongue along your mastoid that cords your neck as he declares, “If you want me to fuck you like I know you’ve been craving for me to,” he mouths against you, “Tell me how much you fucking want me, beautiful. Let me hear how badly you need me to take you because you can’t possibly be pleased by anyone else, pretty girl.”

 Heat swirls in your belly as he lazily draws shapes into your clit, his member hardening impossibly more for you when you grind yourself against him while you wrap both arms around him to brace yourself as you hump him like an animal in rut, the hand he’d had on your hip quickly cupping your ass to hold you up while he stares hotly at you.

 Knowing that you will face punishment in the bedroom later if you do not do as he asks, you try to wrack your brain for the string of words that you need to scramble out of their jumblement amidst the need that throws them into a whirl as you breathe, “Want you, Jungkook. I want you so badly. Please, let me-“

 “Oh, but do you think you deserve it, Y/N? Do you believe you should be allowed to have my cock when you denied me for so long today?” He taunts, his teeth taking your earlobe between them as he continues, “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to put my cock inside that little cunt of yours? How many times I thought about bending you over this damned table and fucking you into oblivion?” You gasp in the risqué admission as he sweeps you over him, his wrist disentangling from your clit to pull your skirt up so that he has no obstructions while he shamelessly ogles your dripping cunt before you lower yourself down on him to earn a cautionary hiss from him, “Watch it, beautiful. If you can’t control yourself, I’ll take you right fucking here in the middle of your office. If I can wait all day to finally have the chance to fuck you again after you denied me, so can you.”

 "Why did you, ah-" he slots one thick thigh under you, a cocksure grin spreading over his features as he helps you thrust yourself over the thatch of muscles lining every inch of his leg, your voice cracking when both hands clutch your ass as he pulls you down and over him to brokenly whisper, "Why did you take all day to finally fuck me, sir-" your lips are suddenly captured in a heated kiss, his mouth roughly claiming yours as your head falls back while he flicks his tongue along the roof of your mouth to claim every bit of you before he pulls away to leave you heaving as you try again- "I-I wanted you to come to me earlier when I was in the b-bathroom,” your breaths are labored from the air he’s thieved from you to leave only your wanton admission, “wanted you to give me your cock and t-take me against the wall while I begged you to let me have your cum inside me...”

 "Such a little slut for me, aren’t you? You didn’t have enough cock this morning when I stuffed it between your hungry little lips and fucked your face? You know," he groans when one of your hands slides down his defined chest as you drag it to its destination before settling over the fully hardened member as you gyrate your hips atop him, " I taught you that when you want something, you ask, yeah? Could’ve had what you needed if you’d just been obedient and used that fucking mouth to request a good fuck, but instead, I had to use my fucking hand to imagine it was your pretty little cunt that my cock was in," you whimper at his confession, your fingers curling over his member as you swirl your hips up and down his leg in a frenzy, your core heating like a wildfire when his eyes darkly flash, " You're going to suffer as I did, pretty girl. You're going to feel how fucking desperate you made me while I jacked off to pictures and videos I recorded of you when you were innocently batting your eyes at me from all the way over here while I was in my office with my hand on my cock."

 “Jungkook,” you whine, “I don’t know if I can take that. Not agai-“

 "Oh, but you will, baby. You will do what I say because I'm the fucking boss, yeah?" One hand gropingly lifts from your ass to grasp at a bra-clad tit, a whimper falling from your lips when he squeezes hard and with his other hand, his fingers sink into your side as he pivots your waist down on his thigh, his muscles jumping at you and catching at your core as he urges you over him and in response, your fingers constrict around him to earn a hiss, "God, it was too easy to make you fall apart on me. Come on, baby," he challenges as he takes your lip between his teeth to nip at you, "Show me what you've got, yeah? Fuck yourself on me. You have sixty-nine seconds to finish before I pull you off me and go back to my office."

 With his demand, you’ve no choice but to obey and instantly, you bear your hips down on him with renewed fervor, the firm and solid thew tautening beneath you as clamp him between your legs while you sway yourself back and forth like a seesaw, a moan stuttering from you when he pushes aside your shirt to grip one breast in his hand, his digits expertly rolling your nipple between them as you teeter precariously atop him, your waist stammering amidst his ministrations when slams his mouth against yours once more, his tongue thrusting inside your warmth as he captures you under his osculation and possessively wraps his wet muscle around yours as he steals your breath away.

 When he pulls away, you chase him with growing hunger that latches itself to you, your mouth connecting to his in a softer kiss as you kittenishly lick at him while he kneads at your breast.

 Your core clenches around nothing when he pairs this with a harsh propulsion of his thigh into your cunt as his sinewy skin slides deliciously along your clothed cunt, the tingling friction finding every inch of your pussy as you avidly grind against him.

 You compress your fingers over his rock hard cock that has your salivary glands producing excess spittle in want of him and when you dare to start rubbing him there while you busily buss his jawline that you think might cut you in its sharpness if you aren’t careful, that’s when he growls out, “God, you’re such a fucking minx,” he angles his head back to welcome your lips against him, “Time’s ticking, princess. You have ten seconds.”

 “Jungkook, please, I…I’m almost there,” you cry out, “Please don’t leave me,” you blurt as you bounce on his thigh rapaciously while you fervidly litter his neck with the stains of your crimson lipstick, “I’ll do anything,” you beg as he smirks while he watches you with interest, “I’ll let you do anything you want to me later, just…please, let me cum. I’ve thought about this all day long, thought about you fucking me all day long,” you blabber as your pride is burned away by his searing gaze while he pushes his thigh impossibly deeper into you as you whine out, “let me finish, sir.”

 Perhaps it the fact that your boyfriend is quite honestly the hottest man you’ve ever seen walk the earth (really, how could you ever be satisfied with anyone else when your boss and boyfriend is a literal incarnate of sin and sex) or maybe it is because he’d edged you this morning in the shower, for his much longer and larger fingers had played with you like you were his favorite toy and that had you quickly winding up around him. Despite your cries, he’d not let you come after disobeying his orders to speak after he’d all but fucked your brains out following round four of your sexual escapades with each other on the kitchen table, the couch and the wall and then the bed. Maybe it is both of those, but you've never been so quick to rile up and Jungkook, the one who has his strings attached to you like you’re his damned puppet, well… it is easy for you to see why you are at the edge of the precipice he dangles you over with his strong threads.

 He observes with amusement the way that you work yourself avariciously over him, your lips insistent in lavishing him with your attentions as you line his throat with the red coloring you’d put on your mouth until he’s decorated with it like a painting you’d artfully drawn yourself. He lets the seconds pass beyond what he’d told you, delight lighting at his eyes as he sees the relief wash through yours in the slow surety that streams in your irises beside it in your thoughts that he’s going to allow you to find your end.

 It’s when your thighs begin tremble from the labors of your efforts and a low pant starts to push itself between your lips as you undulate yourself against him that the large hand on your breast twirls your nipple between deft fingers, fire flaring through your core as you moan out his name.

 “That’s it, baby. Say it louder for me,” he groans as he bucks his hips against you, a devious glint in his eye gleaming at you that only has you burning hotter for him as he husks, “Let Jimin know who you’re fucking yourself like a dirty little girl on.”   

 Your end is near and you’re so close to plummeting into your end, but he holds you from it and refuses to let you fall into it. Not yet, anyway.

 “Jungkook,” you whimper, “touch me.”

 Your boss hums, “Mmm, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He pinches your nipple only to cause you to squirm, the slight pain shooting sparks down to your pussy that clenches for him. He growls at this, for the flutter of your southward lips against his thigh has his cock throb beneath your fingers that still stroke him and suddenly, his hand is gone from your tit and instead finds its place in your hair that he clutches and yanks you forward with so that your chest is pressed flush against his front as his eyes flash darkly and he hisses, “Too bad, baby. I let you fucking use me so I could see how desperate I could make you while you tried to get yourself off. Now that I have you,” he torturously extricates his thigh from between yours and you all but sob at the loss of him as he sets you down on the floor, the hand in your hair wrenching forward until he crashes his lips to yours and sucks your tongue between his teeth as if he wants to devour you and all the while, the hand on your hip sidles down and, while he’s got your eyes falling closed, they shoot open as you moan into his mouth when he cups your sex, his middle finger prodding your hole and when he pulls them both away, carnality dilates his pupils as he declares, “I’m going to make you my fucking whore.”

 Air evades you, but the fire lighting up in your core sustains the need for him as you attach your hands to his shirt to hold on for dear life in the midst of your weakened, feeble knees that have lost their strength in how much of it he’s sapped from you in your kisses. You shakily exhale what little of it remains as you bury your head in the crook of his neck, your shyness starting to return now that the haze of hormones clouding your brain is gradually rescinding in the lack of his touch.

 Breathlessly, you whimper, “Need you now, Jungkook. Please-“

 You’re effectively silenced when he presses his pointer finger to your lips to quiet you, your labored suspirations wrapping warmly around his digit as he croons, “Shhh…I know, babygirl. I’m so fucking hard for you right now,” his fingers enclose your wrist to coax you to put more pressure on his member and you do, your eyes fixing on how much smaller your hand is compared to his own as you urges you to run your hand back and forth over him as he groans, “Feel that? That’s all for you, baby. God, that little mouth felt like heaven around me this morning. Did I tell you that? Did I mention how beautiful you looked with tears falling from those pretty eyes? Fuck, you were so cute with spit dripping from those lips while you sucked me off like a needy little slut.”

 You choke a strangled sound out at that while you burrow your face deeper into his neck as if to escape from the filth he wants to dirty you with, but you don’t get too far with the way that his finger taps expectantly on your lip as he prods at you and you need no further instruction than that as you tentatively open your mouth to welcome the digit he promptly slides in as he praises, “There you go, babygirl. Such a good girl even when I deny you your orgasm. You know you deserve to have it withheld from you, don’t you?”

 You lick at his finger in answer as you breathe, “Yes, sir. I’ve been bad to you today, haven’t I? I’m sorry,” you try a new tactic in effort to release some tension that has coiled into a knot deep in your belly as you whisper, “Will you let me make it up to you, handsome? Want your big, fat cock inside me so badly…”

 You let your words be swallowed within your mouth as you close it around him only to suction your wet warmth around his digit, a grunt quick to release itself from him as his pupils blow wide at the sinful sight of his finger disappearing into your mouth. His mouth parts at the lewd sounds that escape your mouth as you take him inside you, your tongue flicking against him with precision as you lock your eyes on his and in them he sees the kindling of desire that smokes and hazes them over.

 “Fucking hell, Y/N,” he watches as you innocently blink at him with your head still nestled onto his shoulder and when you swallow around him, that has him twitching under your hand that continues to palm at him, his fingers tightening around your wrist as he husks, “Are you that fucking gone for me? Shit, baby. If that’s how you are with just my finger, imagine how you’ll be with my fucking cock shoved in your pretty pussy.”

 “Want it,” you mumble around his finger as you lave at his digit,” want you so much. Please, Jungkook, take me.”

 “So desperate for me. Just how I like you, babygirl. If you want me that bad,” he pries his finger from your mouth, both of you watching the string of spittle that follows him before breaking off and only then does he lean forward, his lips just shy of touching yours as he commands, “Come to me in five minutes. I need to have a quick word with one of the representatives of the company for funding and then I’ll have the rest of the night to fucking ravage you, yeah?” He pushes off the window while he drags your hand away from him and you can’t deny the cold that is left in his absence when he moves away from you and you pout because of it while tucks your skirt back down.

 He grins at the way your knees buckle and, responsively, he helps you to sit down. One tattooed hand finds its place on your hip while the other splays possessively over your abdomen as he walks you backward and once he’s got you sitting, you catch the way his hands linger as if he doesn’t want to let you go, but with an imploring look you tell him more than your words would convey as you place one of your own hands over his while you urge him to stay with a small squeeze of your fingers over his.

 He’s utterly gone for the way you adorably purse your lips as if to plead with him and it doesn’t go unnoticed by your boss that you whine as he pulls away to chuckle to himself while he strides away from you. In his absence, your pussy yearns for him as it deposits even more of your taint into your ruined panties in his tormenting separation from you.

  By now, he’s at your door and before he disappears, he turns with his back still facing you to add, “Oh, and one more thing,” his irises dip down as he gestures to a dampened, wet patch on his pant leg where you’d been sat atop of earlier before he peers back up at you with a hooded gaze, “If I find out you finished yourself off in here without me,” his voice becomes brusque as he deepens it,” The only thing that cunt will have jammed in it for the next few months will be the vibrator you brought to work last week.”

 “How did you,” you clear your throat amidst the clog that has clumped itself in a ball within the middle of it,” you heard about that? You saw that?”

 “I’ve heard the whispers that all the women believe they are too quiet for me to detect, but you,”  He flicks a sculpted brow up as embarrassment mutes you, your cheeks coloring themselves red as the remnants of lipstick that still remain on your mouth as he pokes his tongue against his cheek in a sight that has you instantly wanting to get on your knees once more for him as he says, “you’re such a slave to your desire for me that you just can’t keep that little mouth shut, that you just can’t help but to tend to that needy little cunt because of me,” his eyes scintillate with sin, “you thought I didn’t notice you take that vibrator to the supply closet with you after I had you massage my thighs that you like to tell the other women that you love so much, but I did, baby,” he watches you rub your thighs together, a pained sound resounding from your lips as he finishes, “You put on such a show for me on the camera I have installed in there. God, you have no idea how bad I wanted to fuck you senseless while you tried to stop yourself from calling my name.”

Your jaw just about drops at his admission, mortification causing you to wrap your arms around yourself as if that will make you smaller against the very large realization that he knew of your feral treachery and with a devastating grin, he leaves you a heaping wet mess on your chair as you try to figure out how one man could be responsible for turning you into a human succubus that needed sex with him as much as you needed air to breathe for your body.

 In the silence that follows your boyfriend and boss, all that can be heard are the perpetually unrelenting ticks of a small wooden clock atop your desk. They chink to the uneven beats of your heart that pounds against your chest as you clutch at it to count the breaths that elude your contracting lungs against the tethers that Jungkook himself had put there.

 Trying to focus now would be like attempting to look away from your boyfriend while he’s stark naked and lounging on the living room recliner in readied receival of you after being away from him for the three-week long and very lonely secretarial seminar that Jimin sends you to every now and then to keep you sharp in your duties that you were expected to carry out as the unofficial manager of both the CEO and Vice President of Bangtan Industries.

 It just doesn’t compute in your mind that has gone haywire in the wake of Jungkook that you can do anything but to keep your attention fixated on the little circular face of the clock, its spindly hands moving far too slow for your liking as you try not to think too much on the teardrops your sex cries in its grief of losing him. When you make the mistake of shifting and sibilate at how drenched you really are in the movement, you look away at your soaked skirt to find it ruined where your sex sits, a groan coming from you as you battle the urge to just bring one or two fingers to your clit to water the fire of need burning there.

 “Jungkook,” you whisper to no one in particular, “You fucking win.”

 Heat still washes you through in the fluidity and you clench your hands into fists atop the table as the waves of it try to ebb your hand down to relieve you of the need that swelters within your core and you are quick to lay your forehead against the desk in need of a colder landscape to battle the Sahara desert’s scorch that has manifested itself in your belly.

 “That’s what I thought, doll. Better not touch yourself, baby,” the familiar voice of your boyfriend chimes through the multiline phone system sat next to your computer, your eyes widening as your back straightens and you sit up with widened eyes, your hand quickly jerking away from your womanhood as you stare surprisedly at the red blinking button that signifies that presently, you are being recorded. He must have turned it on when he’d been sitting you down and, like a siren, you’d been entirely lulled by his distraction.

 “Jungkook, I-“

 “You don’t get to make excuses when I heard you fucking moan with how badly you must want to use your fingers to relieve yourself of me. It’s hard, isn’t, baby?” You can see the shit-eating smirk he gives you even from the other end of the line as he sonorously says, “I would advise that you don’t try anything without me, love. Because if you do,” his voice hardens,” I don’t think you’ll like the consequences.”

 “Need you,” you whine as you push your breasts against the wood in effort to stimulate yourself elsewhere as you try, “Please, sir, let me touch myself. I can’t take it without you.”

 “Oh, but you must, pretty girl,” he voice dips deliciously, “If you put so much as one finger on that little clit of yours,” he threatens, “I promise you’ll get none of this cock for a long time. I am a patient creature, beautiful, but you? You are not and I’m going to teach you what happens when you want to get me hard while I’m at work, you fucking vixen.”

 “But…” you don’t get to say much else because he’s fast to cut you off.

 “But? There are no buts, babygirl. Sit there and obey like a good girl. Got it?” His domineering tone captures you in its hold as you grimace in the banishment of sensation you’d been trying to quell with the aridity searing your core.

 He expertly extricates your own voice as you submissively tell him, “I understand, sir. I’m…I’m sorry I’m so needy.”

 “That’s more like it, pretty girl. Be daddy’s good girl, yeah? He’s almost finished and when he’s done,” he lowly admits,” he’s going to fuck you until you can’t tell the north from the south.”

 With that, the red button loses its light and fades with the end of the call and you don’t need to peer down to know that your skirt is beyond being saved by the air dryer in the bathroom.

 To divert your attention anywhere but at your sopping core, you open your new Macbook Pro that Jungkook had recently gifted you only to find three new messages that have come in, each sliding along the upper right hand of the screen only to glide away after presenting themselves to you.

 Two are from Jungkook and the other is from your CEO, Jimin.

 Curiosity awakens in you and has you tilting your head as you open the older one first.

          Jimin:

 [1:45pm] What were you doing with Jungkook for lunch? You two were in there awfully long just for him to eat some Italian food. I was going to ask if you could chat with me about agendas and travel plans for the symposiums, but you seemed like you were in a hurry, so…

 You chew at your lip at the memory of the way the off-white taint had dripped down the side of Jungkook’s lips and how he’d asked you to clean him up before pulling you into his lap so that you could lick it off with your tongue before he’d captured it in his mouth and given you the most passionate, intense French kiss you’d ever had as he sucked your wet warmth clean before pulling away ask for more.

 For the life of you, you can’t remember if Jungkook’s blinds had been drawn in your fixation on each other. Since his office was directly next to and connected with Jimin’s, it was possible that if he hadn’t closed them that Jimin might have seen-

 You click out of the message at the same time you cancel your thoughts from going down a network of ideas that would only make the unbearable pressure between your legs even heavier, your legs sticking together in your fidgeting movement as you hiss through the collection of your essence that coagulates there.

 When you skid your mouse over only to click down on the mousepad and the next message pops up, you nearly fall to the floor with how quick you are to lean forward, your fingers gripping tightly onto the table to keep yourself from making contact with the carpeted ground as you read the next text.

          Jungkook:

 [2:36pm] Thanks for the meal, babygirl. You took such wonderful care of daddy. That alfredo sauce was delicious, but not as succulent and sweet as that pussy when I’ve got my mouth on it. I hope that pretty cunt is ready for me later when I put my fat fucking cock inside you and split you open on top of me. I’m hard for you right now, doll, but all good things come to those who wait, yeah?

 [2:58] Oh, and I got you a dress to wear for that gala we are going to. I do believe you should have already made arrangements to attend, my precious petal. You’ll look so beautiful for me and I know you’ll be the belle of the ball. You’re going be all mine, pretty girl. I can’t wait to show you off to everyone before I tear that gown off you and show you who you belong to. And when you can’t walk anymore, I’ll carry you home and we can watch your favorite show while you lay on top of me so that I can play with your hair and tell you how exquisite you are while we eat macaroni and cheese and watch your k-drama that you like to put on so much :)

 Truly, you don’t know how your boyfriend can turn your insides to mush with just a light glance or even a few words to then, a second later, have your core fluttering in anticipation of his dark vows. You had not one inch of doubt that he would make good on his promises and excitement flits through every contour of your body as you smile fondly at the screen.

 The telltale ping that pongs through speakers set beside the two twin monitors behind your laptop bounces around the glass walls and suddenly your attention is ricocheted to those screens as your hand closes over the wireless mouse and you open the source of sound that you had chosen to alert you of incoming emails.

 Amongst the thousands of emails, the bulk of them come from your bosses and the next mass of them originate from the plethora of dealers that your bosses worked with that often had to go through you before acquiring an audience with either of them.

  Next were the intermediary reconciliations and discussions with coworkers outlining their status and progress on assignments within the firm that you were tasked with collecting and organizing before presenting it to Jungkook, who would relay it to Jimin. On occasion, you would report to Jimin first when he’d come to your office and sit down with you to discuss the overview of all the information, his eyes never straying from you even when you’d get up and walk about the room in your experiments to measure his interest in what you were talking about.

 Jungkook set your body on fire in his scalding affections and attention, but Jimin…Jimin’s soft gaze that was speckled by the sugar of sweetness around you, well…it was like night and day.

 You had come to love Jungkook as fiercely as the sun that has now ducked under the skyscrapers that rise high in the sky and Jimin had come to be someone you adored in the gracious geniality he swathed you in that contrasted so very much with Jungkook’s own feral ferociousness in how the latter had easily seized your heart in the palm of his hand.

 With tangling thoughts of the two of them in your mind, you open the new email that was just sent moments ago. You don’t really know what to expect as you watch the circling icon in the middle of both screens as the content of the email loads, but the longer that you stare at the rotating wheel that-with every pass- has inquisitiveness circumnavigating and spiraling around you, the stronger that the emotion builds in you as you wait, your eyes only now just processing the subject of message.

 Do you like this? Don’t think I forgot what you were telling me last week…

 It’s innocent enough in the initial reading of it, but your mind really can’t help but to soil a more pure intent in lieu of a darker one if Jungkook is involved, after all. The man was insatiable and had tainted you with that same craving for him during every waking moment of your consciousness (and subsequently in your unconsciousness through your dreams that had become borderline pornographic in what your mind would conjure up illicit indecencies wrought upon you by your boyfriend).

 When the spherical icon dissipates, so too does your last shred of self-restraint that is ripped away from you as you loudly whine out, your core clenching around nothing as you devour the eye candy.

    Sweat sluices every bit of skin on both your boyfriend and Jimin, who are the models of the picture, and you’re quite certain that this might be the most profanely peccable thing that you’ve ever seen.

 Jungkook smirks wickedly with his head thrown back against the wooden panel, his eyes closed and mouth parted in pleasure and the white t-shirt he wears sticks to his muscled chest to suck away its color in patches of perspiration that display wet blotches of where hidrosis has penetrated through the thin material to display musculature that the god of lust himself, you are convinced, had a hand in decorating him with.

 His bicep bulges before the picture cuts off just below the upper half of his abs and you don’t need to think to know he’s jacking himself off with his face contorted into such a satisfied expression.

 It is a sight that has your thighs rubbing together, a whimper sounding from you try to calm your breathing that has instantly become erratic in the breaths that refuse to stay lodged in your lungs as your boyfriend expels them expertly without even being physically present to do so.

 It takes some effort to pull your irises away from Jungkook, who has you now on the edge of your seat as you rub your breasts against the edge of the wooden table in your need to feel his big, warm hands on you once again as you whisper, “Please…”

 You lay your head on the table to ground yourself against something of the earthly plane before your soul descends to the fucking nether realm, but in so doing, your vision trails along Jungkook’s other arm that is pushed against Jimin’s own. The slightly older man has his head tilted so that his nape rests on Jungkook’s shoulder, his full lips open to permit sounds you wish you could hear while his eyes, like your boyfriend’s, are shut in a countenance twisted by rapture and you wonder what it is that they’re thinking about that they’ve both succumbed to.

 Distantly, you want them to have been thinking of you, but self-consciousness nips at you despite it because how could two of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen both be frozen in time like this through a picture of their pleasure amidst minds full only of you?

 You shake your head at the thought and choose to fixate your attention back on Jimin, who has you salivating in the open v-cut black shirt that, with its short sleeves, leaves little to be imagined in the mound of muscle mounted along his own arms. He’s sitting back, like Jungkook, and is in the midst of his own sinful delight in the way that one arm is curled around his body in the way that it snakes downward and just out of the frame where you know his cock is in hand.

 You make a pained sound in your solitude where neither of them can help you under Jungkook’s own order as you curse, “Damn you, Jungkook. You knew what this would do to me.”

 You really don’t know how you’re able to look away from the delicatessen that is them, but when you slide one hand under the cup of your bra to clasp your breast and tease at the nipple there while you push against the desk so that your other is not neglected, the movement disturbs your line of vision so that you see the words he’d torturously typed under the picture sent from hell.

          Don’t think that I forgot that you have a sweet tooth for our little Jimin, here, babygirl. When you got fucked against the walls in your office and I had you begging for your release, remember how I asked what you thought of him after he happened to walk in on us and then he ran away while I made you fucking scream so loud for me that he could still hear it even outside the building?

 His tongue had been four inches deep inside you while he’d knelt on the floor for you to eat you out and your cheeks burn in the memory of how he’d had you a crying mess atop of him and in that moment, with your climax so close, he’d played you like his favorite toy in the truths that had been so easy to spew with the slew of his wet muscle that had the threads holding you together weak in their stitching in your need for the one operating your body to fix it all by bringing you to your end.

 It had been purely an accident that you’d neglected to lock the door behind him when Jungkook had come to you with a dark glint in his eye that held only carnality in its iris after Jimin had kept you from him all day for meetings. The moment your boyfriend had snatched you away from your other boss, you’d fallen into his arms readily in the need for him that had tuned you like an instrument until you sung for him in your highest key.

 Lost in each other, neither of you had heard the chink of the door that had borne your coupling to an observer who had stood with his cock hardening at the sight of you both in each other’s ecstasy until Jungkook had thrown you over your desk only for him to face Jimin, your CEO. The man’s eyes had bulged big as saucers when he’d been caught and Jungkook had only grinned as he eyed the tent in Jimin’s pants that broadcasted his obvious arousal. Your walls had constricted around the cock plunged deep inside you and you’d hit your third climax with a deadly snap of your boyfriend’s hips into you all while Jimin had ogled you before running as far as his legs would carry him.

 Secure in the knowledge that you ardently cared about him after many confessions from you in the throes of passion and in the softer moments where Jungkook’s stoicism melted away in the wake of your praise and sweet utterances to him, he knew that you wanted to be with him and that you’d come to love him. It was why he had been so keen to tease you about Jimin in the following days upon realizing that you’d gotten off to being watched by the older man. If it meant your pleasure, he would gladly partake in anything and he’d professed as much to you on many nights (and mornings) in the tender aftercare he would treat you with, ever the doting yet adventurous lover that he was.

 It was why you’d been able to let it slip when he’d had his long fingers plunged in you last night that no one could make you feel as good as he could, but that you were interested in seeing what Jimin’s smaller ones could do and how delicious his plush lips might feel on you. Jimin had always been sweet as honey to you and, in his lathering of that over you in your many moments together at work, you’d discovered that you wanted to get even more of a taste for him.

 Never could you have expected that your boyfriend would do this and torture you with such hankering desire to be sated that it all but burned like a wildfire in your body, but you could hardly be expected to endure it in his absence.

 You make a pained sound as you look at the picture that has damned your sex with even more taint to drip between your thighs and you cross your legs over each other in attempt to get some kind of friction. The attempt is fruitless and when there is nothing to relieve you, you squeeze at your breast and imagine that it is Jungkook who is doing so while the ridges of the table dig into your other and you fanaticize that it is Jimin’s ringed fingers that are palming at you as you cry out in desperation’s grip for either of them to come save you from the agony of their absence.

 You moan at the cool, prickly sensation of your fingers on your skin, your nipple hardening amidst your digits that the cold air of the office has chilled as you seek more stimulation. Your boyfriend’s name falls like an icicle from your lips and when your voice pierces through the thin audio line that Jungkook had screenshared your computer to watch and hear you through Facetime with, he licks at his lips at your exposed cleavage as he watches you pop open another button as you titillate your tits and huff in frustration as you uncross your legs in some misguided effort to encourage friction that he knows you are incapable of granting yourself in your current situation by his own order.

 He feasts his eyes on you as your breasts are shoved against one another, the ‘y’ shape of them bursting from your bra now as you cup one between the fingers of one hand and the other is butted into the table as you moan once more and call his name.

 “Help me, Jungkook…” You breathe, your irises still sticking to the picture that has ruined you from wanting to do anything holy for the rest of the day, week or even month for that matter. With your head swimming in sin spurred by your boyfriend, all you can think about now is Jungkook, Jimin, Jungkook, Jimin, Jungkook, Jungkook and lastly, Jungkook.

 It is your voice that cracks your boyfriend’s fixation on the way your breasts rise and fall with your labored breaths as pulls his eyes from the trenches of your tits before peering up to your lovely face that is marred with the aching affliction he knows wracks your core, his own cock twitching with interest as you repeat his name like a mantra in what little else your mind can internalize with how your sex must be sobbing for him right now.

 Lust seeps through the rips and tears that have begun to open and enlarge your pores as it spreads through your fragile body in the trembles that have you shaking in your attempts to abstain from the slow destruction that has reduced the filling inside your core to wet, ruined fibers like a tainted toy. Without realizing what you’re doing, one hand skids over the wet patch of your essence that has stained your skirt, your palm aquaplaning through that to dive under your skirt and when you slot it between your legs and streamline it into your sopping core with the image of your boyfriend’s hand doing this to you in your mind while Jimin watches, you keen.

 “Jungkook,” you try, “n-need you. Want you to fuck me and let Jimin see how good you make me feel, daddy. Your doll is about to tear herself apart because you won’t play with me…”

 At that, there’s a low growl that booms through the speakers that amplify his voice that promises danger as it demands, “Get your little hand out of that wet ass pussy before daddy makes you regret even thinking about disobeying me,” his voice deepens as he orders, “Since you can’t keep your hands to yourself, get the fuck in my office. Now.”

 Your core contracts at his dominance that is injected into each word and, per his command, your palms shoot away from you as if you were a puppet that he’d pulled on the strings of to whisk your hands away from where he knew you would damage yourself further.

 You rise from your chair on legs that wobble both from Jungkook’s earlier ministrations and your own, your extract dyed onto your chair as you peer back and your cheeks burn at the damned deposit of it that has seeped through your panties and skirt. One knee quivers dangerously as your joints fight to hold you up through the numbness that your boyfriend had left in his wake and you have to plant a hand on your desk to hold yourself up while you steady yourself for the moment.

 From the computer, your boyfriend glares darkly at you as he brings the window that his own computer records himself with to the forefront of your tabs, your attention being sucked like a black hole into him as he declares, “You’re going to sit in daddy’s lap and if you choose to be a bad girl and not listen to what daddy tells you, you’re going to go without cock for as long as I decide to withhold it from you. Understand?”

 “I…I understand, sir.” You nod as you will the strength back in your legs despite his words that threaten to steal it yet again.

 “Good. So submissive. Just how I like you, baby,” he groans as his irises settle on the gleaning mess painting across your thighs from the field of view the camera grants him, “You’ve got me so hard already. I bet that cunt must have drenched itself for me, huh? I guess we’ll find out in a little bit when I clean it all off of you with my tongue,” he has you whining at that as he brings a hand to his chin to rest his face against it as his eyes glint with lasciviousness as he makes a sound of consideration, “Or maybe I should use my fingers? My cock? Perhaps since you’ve been defiant and tried to please yourself, I won’t touch you at all, hm? How would you like that?”

 You reach out for him even through the screen, panic coloring your tone as you implore with pleading eyes, “J-Jungkook, please…don’t. I’m ready for you. I might just break down in tears if you deny me again, so please-“

 “You’ll get what I decide to give to you, babygirl. I gave you simple instructions and I expect that you follow through with them or that little cunt won’t be the only thing that cries for me tonight, doll. Now,” he states with no room for anything but obeyance, “get the fuck in here.”

 Your sex quivers at that and you nod in affirmation as he ends the call once more, your weakened, numbed legs reducing you to a tottering mess of limbs as you emerge out of your office and amble closely to the walls, one hand held out against them to support you in the dangerous dalliance between remaining upright and falling to the floor in your shuddering ligaments that are entirely the work of Jungkook. You don’t have to walk far, but in your slow pace, the seconds stretch on and every step has your slick lewdly dripping down your legs much to your mortification that takes its form in the heat that rushes to your cheeks in the blood that manifests itself there.

 You hobble along the glass walls that offer the view of the city that blinks to life below you in the lights that wink at you while tiny specks of moving bodies bedeck the pavement and once, long ago, when you’d been but a freshmen in college, you’d stood amongst them as you stared in awe at the same building you now work within in. Time had passed but in an instant and when you’d met Jungkook by happenstance one night in a bar with your friends and he’d been quick to pay your tab before sweeping you off your feet and walking with you through the city, you’d had no idea how much your life was about to change when you’d gone home to discover the small piece of parchment he’d slipped in your purse when you hadn’t been paying attention with as distracted by his beauty both in body and soul as you’d been while the two of you had chatted about everything and anything that kept the conversation flowing as easily as the waters in a forest brook. You’d not hesitated in calling him the day after and he’d been eager to see you again.

 You’d gone on your first date with him that night and day after day, the two of you met again and again, for his company was as refreshing as the midnight air that caressed your skin after a long day of classes and before you’d known what had happened, it had been a year and it had only been after letting it out that you wanted an internship with a firm that he’d told you what exactly he did and what company he worked for.

 Your jaw had hurt with how wide your maw had opened in disbelief and when he’d offered to bring you in as part of the team, you’d been all too happy to accept. You really had tried to keep things professional, but Jungkook had not a care in the world for appearances where you two were concerned and your escapades in the bedroom soon made it to the corporate sphere. You could not deny him no matter how hard you tried. It was as if your body had been made to fall into his skilled hands and you would gladly grant him anything if it meant his appeasement.

 After all, you’d become putty in his palm while you had unknowingly wrapped him around your own fingers.  

 Perhaps that is why, when you finally reach the familiar double doors that permit entrance into Jungkook’s office, your hand quavers in the anticipation that has you in its clutches down to your very bones and there is not a moment of pause that stops you from opening them as your hand curls around the brass handle only for you to slip inside, the small clink of the knob resounding around you when you close it behind you.

 Covering the oaken floor, a rug that you’d picked to decorate the room is lain over it. Threaded and crafted in India, it was one you’d seen in the marketplace he’d taken you to on one of his business trips to meet with a dealer that had contacted the firm in their interest to have the firm build a hotel there. You’d taken one look at the ornate swirls colored black as night and red as a rose in the way that the pattern had intertwined in rotating spirals and whirls and your boyfriend had not missed your small whisper about how nice it was while you’d both walked by it amongst the bustle of street life that filled the area packed with people and vendors energetically trying to sell their merchandise.

 You hadn’t thought that he’d heard you, but he’d promptly asked if you liked it and you really hadn’t been expecting anything at all when you’d commented and that it would complement his office in his knowledge that black and red were your favorite colors. With a smile, he’d taken out his wallet (much to your surprise) and taken out a wad of cash that he’d easily passed to the unsuspecting vendor before buying the rug and turning to the group of onlooking teenage boys to pay them off in their efforts to carry it over to your lodgings on your way to the consultation with your dealer.

 Later that night, he’d taken you to a very nice and very extravagant firelit, poolside meal at the Giardino by the the Jai Mahal Palace in Jaipur that you both were sharing a room in. He’d had you giggling every other minute between the fond touches that he’d brush along your cheek or stroke your clothed thigh with from atop the high-necked silk dress that he’d bought for you and after, you’d both had taken a stroll by the surrounding greenery and woodlands beyond the pool. The stars had gleamed in your eyes when you’d peered lovingly at him and not for the first time, he’d been struck with that pang in his chest whenever you looked at him like that while you both had reminisced about how you’d met in that dingy little bar about a year and a half prior.

 When you’d both kissed under the cover of the trees, that feeling that flew around his ribcage had fluttered when you’d adoringly pecked the mole beneath his lower lip as you’d earnestly and heartfeltly thanked him for everything that he’d done for you. When you’d confessed that he’d quickly become the light of your life, he’d tenderly pressed his forehead to your own as he’d pressed his lips to yours once more, the word that had fled him for so long that foretold his own emotions finally surfacing through the depths of his mind.

 He’d declared then and there that he loved you with sincerity beating as fast as his heart through every word. He’d been quick to gently thumb away at the teardrops of joy that spilled from your eyes when he’d finally said it while you wrapped your arms tighter around his neck as you reciprocated the sentiment in a breathless voice that held so much affection for him that it made his chest swell with the emotion and in that moment, he’d decided that he wanted to give you something that-when you looked upon it and felt its weight on your skin- you would be reminded of who loved you that intricately and implicitly.

  He’d held you close with only the moon’s eye presiding over you both while he’d cutely nudged at your nose, his fingers interlacing with your own that you readily accepted and when he’d pulled away, a new resolve had settled in his pupils as he tugged you forward and soon you found yourself being ushered through the busy, bustling streets of Jaipur.

 Bordering on the desert’s boundary, it was a city that you are sure could have been taken right out of a picture in the pinkened sandstone that every store and building had been crafted out of. Ancient structures erected in times past still stood strong among the newer and more modern creations of contemporary origin and the contrast boasted of a rich diversity that had you wanting to learn more about it despite the books that your boyfriend had gotten for you in a homely little bookstore earlier in the day. Youths had run through the streets with vivaciousness tailing them like the dogs that happily ran with them while the old had shuffled along and chattered about their daily lives and it was a place that was dyed in the warm color its inhabitants adored it with.

 Distracted as you had been with the scenery that painted itself into your memory with artful amalgamation of colors, you’d not noticed where he was intent on leading until he was opening a door for you and coaxing you inside with a reassuring nod despite your confused quirk of your chin, you let him guide you inside only to have you gasping under the fluorescently lit store that was notoriously known throughout India for its high class bijouterie called Tanishq.

 Though you had never heard of it, Jungkook himself had been told about the company from a contact in Mumbai that he’d visited with you in their interest in building an additional wing within the library and, upon seeing the way that you both had been inseparable in the tendency to be joined at the hip at all times, he’d suggested the store to your boyfriend after you’d gotten up from your place on his lap to go explore the books that had been crammed on the bookshelf while they’d both watched you curiously tap your fingers against the aged spines of the books. The elderly man had seen fondness for each other well up in your gazes as whenever you and your boyfriend looked upon each other and, after telling Jungkook he only saw that kind of amity in a newlywed couple, he mentioned the name of the store that only the wealthiest of grooms would purchase jewelry for their beloveds from.

 It had purely been by chance that you both had happened to walk by the same store the gray bearded man had spoken to him of and amongst seeing the way your eyes had widened bigger than the largest diamond in the store, Jungkook had decided you were priceless in how cute you were as he chuckled and told you to pick out anything you desired.

 You’d crinkled your nose in confusion, your brows creasing as you’d told him that you were perfectly happy to just have the treasure of him, but he’d only brought his lips to your forehead as he’d mused, “You know, you really are so adorable, Y/N. I want to spoil you. Won’t you let me do that for you, baby? I want to decorate you in my mark so that everyone will know who your heart belongs to. Please allow me to do so, petal.”

 You really had not been able to resist the big bunny eyes as he’d coaxed you forward and so he’d sat down on the leather loveseat in the corner of the room, the business-suited employees quietly looking on as you moved about.

 Jewels of every size, color and cut were decoratively placed within rectangular glass casings along either side of the first floor of the trendy store swathed in white walls and artificial illumination. Set within the walls themselves were square nooks that housed singular pieces separated from the rest that were couched on plush satin. The entire place was full of glittering jewelry that beckoned the eye, but your boyfriend had been noticed the way that you bit at your cheek as you passed them all by in your indecision since the collection of necklaces, rings, earrings and bracelets were all so pretty to you.

 When he’d risen to inquire about any other pieces, the store representative had seemed reluctant at first to give such critical information, but it had taken only a moment for the older woman to retreat to the back to retrieve one of the store’s most coveted pieces that only respected customers could have the privilege of even looking at after Jungkook had, without your notice, stuck his hand into the inside pocket of his Gucci suit jacket to pull out a thick wad of American bills and rupees, his Rolex watch revealing itself from under the sleeve of the black outer garment whilst he did.

 When the woman had returned with a black lacquered box in her hand to set it down on the four-legged glass table and told Jungkook that the necklace inside was one of the store’s most prized possessions, his interest had been piqued as he called you over and, with a questioning expression, he’d chuckled as he walked over to you to gently ease you forward with a hand on the small of your back you’d come to before the little chest.

 He’d been gentle as he’d urged you to open it as you stared at the box, ever the patient man that he was as he waited for you to finally lift the lid of the chest. You hadn’t known what to expect when you heeded him, but it certainly hadn’t been the article of jewelry inside as it immediately drew your eye as your breath hitched at the sight of it.   

 Sat on bed of velvet, you’d grown fond of it the second you saw it in the way it glinted with each sliver of light that seemed to be drawn toward it. It commanded attention in the way it glittered and glistened in the rays of light that bounced off it and innocently, your fingers hovered over it yet never touched for the fear that you might destroy something so fragile and delicate.

 You hadn’t trusted yourself with it, but Jungkook had been all too eager to lift it up and off its resting place to lay it over your neck before clasping it around you and telling you to look in the mirror at yourself.

 Beset in white gold, diamonds grew within two thin metal vines that trailed and wrapped around your neck amidst buddings of flowers that intermingled along each side, the pistils of gems at their centers made of rubies. Upon the dip of the necklace along the notch between your clavicles, a slightly smaller floweret sprouted a larger one beneath it and connected to that was a falling petal that dangled prettily just under your collarbones.

 “You look beautiful in that, my precious flower. Its charm becomes you well, pretty girl.”

 Upon his praise, you’d preened as you’d thanked him for the adulation and before you could do anything else, he’d slid his black card out of black snakeskin Gucci wallet before telling the associate to simply ‘run it through’ with no hesitation as he drew his lip between his teeth as he watched you lightly skim your fingers over the ornate piece of jewelry.

 The representative had informed him when she’d brought it out that it was a grand total of $37,713 and yet, he would gladly give that small bit of money to bejewel you so that you could shine like the gem that you were to him. You never asked for any material things nor expected them of him like other women once did in your poorer upbringing that had left you destitute and in debt when you’d met him and despite all of that, you never requested aid from him and it was one of the reasons why he enjoyed lavishing such gifts on you in addition to paying off your school of his own volition even amidst your efforts to tell him that he didn’t have to (and yet he always wanted to wherever you were concerned).

 He’d assured you once more how lovely you looked, your cheeks turning red as the rubies you wore as he came behind you to plant his mouth under the clasp of the necklace along your nape, one of your hands reaching back to intermingle with his own as you’d quietly let him know how grateful you were and that he really didn’t have to expend so much effort to show you how he felt about you to which he wrapped his arms around you to seep the waters of his truth into you as he’d answered, “ Nonsense, petal. I want you to accept this so that whenever anyone looks at you and asks who got this for you,” he’d let his lips wander along flowing foliage of gems and gold as he’d soiled you with his kisses, “you will tell them that your boyfriend, whom you love so much, was the one who got it for you,” his mouth had lifted as he’d inched close to the shell of your ear as you shivered in the hot breath that prickled at your skin, “When you’re torn away from me because of work or anything else, I want you to remember that you twined yourself around me like the vines on this necklace and that I fell for you as surely as the petal that descends from it.”

 You’d been helpless to whimper at that as you’d turned your head to the side to meet his waiting lips that had been all too willing to receive you as you smiled into the kiss.

 Later that night, you’d been sure to show to him just how thankful you really were as you’d ridden him well through the midnight hours only to wake him with your lips wrapped around the very cock that, even in sleep, he’d ground against your ass in his voracious appetite that he liked only to consume from you.

 When you’d found yourself sitting atop him, his back lain against the headboard as you’d fucked yourself over his cock while the sun had begun to peek over the horizon, the jewels had glimmered enthusiastically amidst the riled rotations of your hips over him. Seven months later, the same brilliant bijou envelops your throat as you look down to the floor submissively like your boyfriend had taught you to do upon entry into his much larger and grander office, your fingers linking together behind your back just as he’d always instructed you to do.

 Two flat screen televisions are perched atop onyx oak media stands on either side of the room, their screens set alight with virtual fireplaces that blaze within them. Between them and atop the rug Jungkook had had brought over from India is a mid-sized sofa the color of mahogany and flanking that are two lounge chairs of colored like cream and in front of them is a square glass table. Jungkook had made sure to test the durability of just about every piece in the room, for he’d fucked you over just about everything as far as the eye could see and had done so too many times for you to even be able to count anymore in his constant craving for you.

 There are wooden blinds that span the length of every glass wall, each of them opened to allow the moon’s silvery beams to filter through them amidst the lamps positioned precariously around each corner of the room, the lampshades that top them covering the sides of the room in golden ambient incandescence that softly lights the edges of the office up in a yellowed hue that reminds you of much smaller rays of sunlight despite the moonlight that coalesces around the central figure in the room amid your boyfriend’s command that calls it forth upon him.  

 Presently, Jungkook is sat in an expensive and executive leather chair the color of soil, his legs thrown atop the wenge wood desk that was crafted and imported all the way from Africa in the rare material cut from the tough bark of the legume tree native to the country.

 You see none of this and fidget uncomfortably in the steadily oozing taint of your arousal that continues to percolate down your thigh while a voice low as a baritone emits itself from the iPhone lain over Jungkook’s desk as your boyfriend eyes you with interest, a smirk twitching at the side of one lip as he takes in your debauched state while the caller on his phone fills the room with his thick voice in the midst of the business call that he’d been made to make.

 It’s not the first time he’s had you come to him in the middle of a phone call, but you have to fight the whimper that wants to wheedle its way out of you at the memory of how he’d called you in here but a month ago to suck him off while he’d been in the middle of one with a client, his need for you too strong for him to lay to bed when he’d watched you hungrily gorge yourself on a banana from your seat in your office.

 “Jungkook, I need answers as we near the end of the fiscal year. You had many opportunities for appraisals this quarter and those preceding it and as such, I want to know where our dealers and contributors were most dense and what their appeal was so that we can draft out potential areas of interest to focus our fixed assets on. Surely in all of the trips and consultations you had for the last several months, you already have a response on the tip of your tongue.”

 “On the tip of your tongue,” your boyfriend makes a sound of thought as he taps his finger against his chin while he devours you with his roving gaze, “Perhaps I do, co-founder Taehyung. Speaking of evaluations,” your boyfriend’s voice darkens, “my secretary has been quite valuable to us.”

 At the mention of you, your heart does a flip in your chest as you fix your eyes somewhere between your feet because you know if you dare to look anywhere else, you might just become a fucking puddle of limbs on the floor.

 “Come here, Y/N,” Jungkook orders, your back straightening straight as an arrow at the instructions.

 You don’t know how you manage it with your legs as feeble as they are, but you move forward unsteadily despite the threatening numbness that leaves your ligaments dangerously close to giving out on you in the strength that has been stolen from them by your boyfriend.

 The clack of your high heels reverberates along the walls and is loud amidst the blood that pounds in your ears, your heart racing amidst the heavy, hot attention that is as warm as the sun’s rays over your bared skin as your boyfriend looks on at you.

 You move as drawn to him like he’s some kind of magnet and in the attraction for him that pulls away any rational thought, you find yourself standing before him, his hands rising to swaddle your hips in his hold. His touch, even through the black button down linen shirt that you wear, is warm and has you melting the instant his palms leisurely drag themselves up and down your sides as you relish in his attention.

 Taehyung continues with an impressed snort, “Jungkook, Jimin has informed me all about your little secretary many times over,” your boyfriend’s digits curl inward to sink into your soft skin at that as he informs, “This is not the time to be rambling about how she’s snatched both your heart and cock in each of her hands. I want facts, not sentiments.”

 “Oh, but that’s the thing, Tae,” Jungkook lilts, his grip on you tightening as he ushers you between his legs that he spreads for you, your own bones liquifying like goo under his strength that he’s spent many hours in the gym working to acquire as you make a sound of startlement when he suddenly turns you around and whisks you into his lap, your ass sitting down upon the hardened bulge that readily receives you as Jungkook chuckles in the mess of your taint that darkens the fabric of his pants where your core is perched over him to amusedly offer, “ She has erected more than just my cock, however many times it has been, I’ll have you know. She was the one who orchestrated dealings with, hm,” one hand lifts from your side so that long fingers can coax your chin up and to the side so that the two of you lock eyes, “how many dealers this year did you have coming for me, darling? Tell Taehyung here. I think he’s underestimating how useful you’ve been to me.”

 “S-sixty nine,” you blurt as the hand on your chin descends down the ‘v’ of your shirt, his deft digits popping open the small buttons without pause and the plummet you’d taken in his dilating irises that promise nothing but sin, you have to climb along their edges only to realize what you’d said and quickly you stammer as you amend, “I-I mean, 669 contractors, T-Taehyung. I helped to orchestrate that number of dealers that were taken by the company.”

 “Everything alright, baby?” Your boyfriend husks into the shell of your ear, his teeth taking one lobe between them as the last button is undone, your shirt opening to reveal your bra-clad breasts as his hand flows freer than water in the way he draggles it along your abdomen until he possessively wraps it around one breast to give you a harsh squeeze, your head falling back against his shoulder as you bite at your lip to keep quiet while your skin pebbles at his touch.

 “Jungkook,” you breathe, “do something. Please.”

 “Mmm, you’ve been so good for me, so good for the company, petal,” He emphasizes as he trails his lips down the column of your neck and you turn into the featherlight touch of his lips and between them, he utters,” Don’t you agree, Jimin?”

 Your eyes widen at the name despite the heat that fertilizes your arousal deep in your core, but you don’t dare look away from Jungkook without permission. Your boyfriend nips at the tender spot along the base of your neck where the garden of jewels wrap themselves around you that he’d bought for you months prior and it is only when the hand on your breast slowly streamlines downwards to slip under the waistline of your skirt to slide between your sopping folds that he hisses into your ear, “Fuck, baby, are you that turned on in the knowledge that he just watched me do all this to you?” You moan, but it is trapped behind the hand he covers your mouth with while his fingers prod at your hole, your entrance begging him to find himself in your wet warmth in the way you clench around nothing as he rasps, “Look at him, babygirl. I want you to see what you’ve done to him because you just can’t resist me, can you? Go on, doll. Make him fall to his knees for you just like I did.”

 With your head still laid against his shoulder as he lavishes you in the brush of his soft lips against you, you shift your visage away from your boyfriend with some effort, your irises wandering from Jungkook’s deadly distending ones that are colored black as a shark’s in the predatory way he looms above you to those of the only other man in the room that might just be a puppy in disguise with the way his light brown irises implore your own for some much wanted attention.

 Dressed in a plain black suit that contrasts his unique beauty, your CEO wears a tie over a white dress shirt that you wish you could see through to gage which of the pair of them is more muscled between the two of them. His hair is carefully styled in its parting that leaves his entire forehead naked to your sight amidst the thick tufts that arch up along the left while the right side is pressed loosely along his scalp, his sideburns extending to the middle of his ear that is ringed with three hoops along each side. Perfectly sculpted brows frame almond eyes that beg for yours and lips that rival your own boyfriend’s decorate him below a straight nose. His lower lip is slightly thicker than his upper one and they are quite shapely around the thumb he currently gnaws at much like a chew toy, his tongue longer than a dog’s as it curves under the digit while he waits for his master to give him notice.

 Jimin is entirely lost in the way that his other hand is presently wrapped around the tie as if it is a leash that keeps his hand from going lower so that he can rut into himself like you know he must want to given the white of his knuckles that mar his skin as he clutches at the thin piece of silk. His hand appears so much smaller around the article of clothing, his fingers so much shorter than your boyfriend’s that clamp down over your mouth as one finger pushes into your hole, your walls clenching around him and the whimper that wants to escape never makes it out of you and when you see Jimin’s digits begin to tremble with how tightly he holds onto the tie, you wonder what they might be able to do to you despite their littler size.

 “That’s it, babygirl,” Jungkook tells you as he runs his tongue at the sternocleidomastoid muscle cording the base of your neck, your walls contracting within you as he drives his digit back and forth with his middle finger while using the others to run along your folds as he does, your face contorting into one of pleasure as your hips buck atop him all while Jimin bites hard onto his own thumb as he watches the both of you and it is then that Jungkook mutters lowly, “Keep doing that. He’s getting hard for you, petal. He could never get as hard for you as I do, but he’s getting there, doll,” your boyfriend nibbles at your now exposed shoulder to stifle the groan when you press your ass more insistently on him as he pulls your shirt off of you to give a sotto voce demand, “Use my fingers and get yourself off with them, pretty girl. Fuck yourself on me and let him watch you fall apart on top of me, Y/N.”

 You don’t need to be told twice and, following his instruction, you plant both hands in front of you with each on one of this thighs, your fingers curling inward to pitch themselves into the grounds of built up muscle that compose his legs to lift yourself up only to sink back onto his digit that easily goes all the way down to his knuckle in how deep his digit is plunged inside you. Your whine is captured by the hand he replaces with his lips in a passionate kiss that draws all your attention back to him before they flutter closed, his mouth overtaking your own as he glides his tongue along your lower lip before twisting around your own as he feasts himself on you.

 Taehyung’s voice cuts through it all as he huffs, “I don’t know what is going on over there, but someone better give me some answers,” there’s a pause and the sound of fabric rustling when your moan writhes itself between Jungkook’s lips that are held over your mouth when a second finger is added and he deliciously curls his fingers in a come-hither motion as your hips jerk atop him and when he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth only to release your mouth and leave you in a dizzied daze amid the loss of oxygen he’d taken from you,  his lips lower to graze the nape of your neck as your head falls forward amidst the sudden jerk of your hips over him as Taehyung clears his throat, “Jimin, is what Jungkook said what you know to be true? If so, have you any idea where most of her accounts were set up so that we can look into stimulating more in those areas?”

 “So sensitive for me,” your boyfriend mouths at your skin, this thumb brushing your clit to have you stutter your hips as he works you open on top of him,” So fucking wet, too. Come on, babygirl. Show them how bad you want me. Make them wish they could fuck you every night like I do,” he husks as he impels his fingers back and forth inside you, your pussy clinging to his fingers in the lewd squelches that permeate the room and all the while, Jimin’s visage is tugged to the sight of your boyfriend’s digits disappear within your cunt as his own member begins to weep precum in want of you.

 “S-she um, well…yes, correct,” he flounders as words scramble in every direction within his mind as he observes a sex film right in front of him that is infinitely more arousing than any porno he has seen before in how receptively submissive you are to Jungkook who has you looking fucked out when he’s only just begun his ministrations on you.

 You, who has been in Jimin’s dreams and thoughts during many nights when he has been alone in bed with his only company being the pillows he’d rut into for some semblance of relief when his hand would become too tired to bear the burden of lust that you had inspired without even knowing.

 Helpless as an abandoned puppy, he can only look on as a rumble razes from between his lips s you raise yourself off of Jungkook’s digits only to fall back down on them as he scissors them into you with precision, each finger stretching you out around him as your own hands tighten their hold on his thick thighs amidst the whimper that is heaved from your lips when his thumb flicks at the bundle of nerves foresting your core to have your jerk atop his rock hard member that strains against the confines of his trousers.

 The fingers on your side bite into your skin as he constringes them around you while he leans forward to growl, “Watch it, baby. I never you said you could ride me yet,” you whine only for him to connect his lips to the spot just under your ear to suck the skin into his mouth and that has you keen as your hips careen into the fingers that have deliciously started to thrust into you as he hisses, “You want daddy’s dick, huh? Do you think you can fucking take it, doll? I’m not so sure… I think,” his thumb pressurizes itself into your clit in slight palpitations that are too calculated and measured against the rapid beats of your heart while a third finger is inserted and propelled inside to have you cry out as his tone bottoms in pitch amidst the way your back bows against him, “I think that since you were two minutes fucking late in getting here, you need to be taught a lesson about coming on time. Jimin, come here.”

 “You guys act like such children over your toys, fuck. I just wanted to have a normal business call for once,” Taehyung’s voice drones on, but there’s a slight tick to it that suggests he might not be as irritated as he wants to sound while he grumbles, “I don’t want to be privy to this. I’ve only heard Jimin’s voice get like that once when I took him to a strip club and I’m not going to stick around for your little threesome or whatever the fuck you all are about to do.”

 “Oh, but you will, co-founder Taehyung,” Jungkook’s hand rises from your hip to unclasp your bra and when he divests it off of your writhing body, it falls with a thump to the floor with the last of Jimin’s self-restraint, his fingernails digging into the silk of his tie to leave crescent moons in his palms as he rises to lick at his lips in the way that your tits sway temptingly to the motions as you jounce atop your boyfriend while Jungkook smirks, his lips hovering only an inch from your own shoulder as his irises flash darkly at Jimin when he asserts, “Jimin here has some nice, big lips and he likes to put them to use and run his mouth around me,” Jimin’s eyes widen as his teeth come down on his cheek while Jungkook’s smile lethally widens, “He’s told me all about what you did the night you came to the office in the supply closet with one of my receptionists and how you told him that you let a particular name slip from your mouth when you had your cock in someone else’s.”

Jimin’s back goes rigid as a rod and he stops midway in his journey toward you, the filaments of his tie near their tearing point with how tightly his hand is wound around it as his cheeks puff out while he peers pleadingly at Jungkook who simply ticks his head to the side, one brow arching in amusement as he asks, “What was the name again, Jimin? I’ll let you touch her if you tell Taehyung the truth. I know you must want to see how responsive she is under your fingers, yeah?”

 “For fuck’s sake, Jimin, do not listen to Jungkook-“

 “Y/N,” he softly says despite the rough hold on his tie in its stitching that has started to tear. With Jungkook’s heavy ultimatum resting on his shoulders, it really hadn’t been possible for him to crumble under its dense weight with the sweet serendipity of you that was so near that he could almost taste it.

 Your face lifts at the mention of yourself, your eyes meeting Jimin’s and in them there is surprise that is flecked by lifted brows, but it is soon smeared away by the desire that blotches them as Jungkook chooses that moment to let his tongue peek from between his lips only to trail it along the nape of your neck before closing his mouth around you to siphon you once again between them, your neck gradually becoming a woodland of reddened petals that rival the color of a rose in the passion that had been emitted in the making of them.

 Appeased, Jungkook hums, “Mmm, good boy. I knew you would listen to me. Come and claim your reward,” he husks as he circles your clit with his thumb the way he knows you like it, your end rapidly nearing as your boyfriend shoves all three fingers into you without pause at the same time that you frenziedly meet his ministrations in faltering jolts of your hips over him and when you watch Jimin tortuously pull his lower lip under his perfect buck teeth as he moves mercifully closer, you moan out when Jungkook’s middle finger prods at the cluster of nerves deep within you as your boyfriend groans at the way your slick drips down his fingers with how much taint you produce in want of them both before he goads, “Go on, Jimin. Touch her. Her tits were made by a fucking succubus. God, they’re so good for a nice cocksleeve aren’t they, babygirl?”

 “Yes, Jungkook…yes,” you breathlessly reply as your nipples harden in the cold air that prickles at your exposed skin, a dangerous jab of his fingers deep into you drawing a guttural sound deep from the recesses of your body that he expertly forges you with as his thumb swirls over your clit to leave you panting.

 In your labored suspirations, your chest heaves back and forth, your tits being pushed out and in to have Jimin’s fingers shuddering from their prison of their cage in his tie while his other hand mindlessly reaches for you.

 As he nears you, Jungkook speeds up his ministrations inside you, his fingers curving dangerously to rub against your walls that clench around him and it isn’t until Jimin hovers awkwardly by the side of Jungkook’s desk that he notices the way that Jungkook drags one hand away from your side to snake it around your abdomen and pull you flush against his chest as he clucks his tongue, “Tsk, tsk, tsk, Jimin… did I tell you when you were allowed to touch her? Did you think you could just come over here and have what is mine without my permission?”

Jimin’s hand shoots away from you as if he’d been burned as he shamefully casts his visage to the floor as he speaks haltingly,” I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…she’s just pretty as a doll on your lap, Jungkook. Please, let me have her. I’ll be good to her, I promise.”

 “Did you both forget that I’m still here? Christ. I can’t believe you told Jungkook that I said the name of his damn girlfriend while I was getting sucked off, Jimin,” there’s a sound of a belt buckle opening as his voice hardens, “I guess I can’t really help it. You do have quite an eye for women, Jungkook. None more so than this one, though,” You feel the grin against you amidst the skin that is currently being suctioned between his lips as he decorates you in another necklace that blossoms in blots of purple and red under the one made of gems gleaming enticingly around you as Jungkook suddenly brings your ass down onto his clothed, yet colossal cock in time with digits that pierce you all the way to your g-spot, your eyes rolling back with your head that lands on your boyfriend’s shoulder as Taehyung cavils, “It’s her fault for getting my dick wet whenever I come to visit the office. You should thank whatever god is up there that you found such a loyal little girl to give herself to you," You preen at the words despite the fingers currently driving themselves ferociously into you as Jungkook agrees with a nod while he rambles, "I will say I tried making a move on her when I last came to the office and when she refused and instead went to your office, that's how I found myself in that supply closet."

 “So I heard from Jimin, Taehyung,” Jungkook muses as while he helixes his digits inside you without fail, the arm that still is enclosed around you pulling you back into him so that there is no space that remains between you as he hotly intones into the shell of your ear loud enough for them all to hear, “I fucked her maybe seven different ways that night because of that. She just couldn’t get enough of me, could she, babygirl?”

 You agree as you hoist yourself up only to heft yourself back down with a broken moan as Jimin turns to the table in the absence of you to rut himself into it, his face contorted into one of concentration as he tries to think about anything but how your pussy would feel around the cock that cries wantonly for you.

 “Look at him, baby,” Jungkook urges as he swirls his thumb over your clit, “he can’t even contain himself for you anymore,” he speaks up, “He just can’t take it, can he?”

 “Can…can take it, Jungkook, please. I need to feel her. Need to touch her,” Jimin manages despite the obstinate grooves of the desk that scuff and scrape his member rigidly as he tries, and fails, to simulate some semblance of relief without you as he attempts to say, “You’re t-torturing m-me. Let me do something to her, anything to her.”

 “Do you think you should be allowed to touch what isn’t yours so freely? She’s mine,” Jungkook growls as he curves his digits purposefully inside you, his own cock throbbing at the way your juices have now coated his entire hand whilst your walls flutter tellingly around him as you submerge yourself on his digits with thighs that now tremble with your rigorous efforts, a moan slewing from your lips as he slides his fingers so deep inside that they press skillfully at the bundle of nerves that has your back arching against him while he possessively wraps his hand around your throat that had been on your abdomen to keep you in place and when his thumb twiddles itself around your clit, that’s when you cry out for your boyfriend who then smirks knowingly, his eyes flitting from you only to sear into Jimin's as he arches a brow to ask, “She’s almost there, isn’t she, Jimin? How badly do you want to touch her? Beg for me and maybe I’ll let you have a small piece of her before she fucking gets stuffed full of my cock for the fourth time today.”

 Your end is so close, yet so far away. Like the waters of an ocean, it washes over your feet, but the waves of pleasure in the distance that roll deeper in the seas of rapture are too far away from you to reach as you sink into the sands that are grained with Jungkook’s control over you to keep you from moving toward it. With your end so close, you hardly even process what is said when Taehyung talks under his breath that has quickly become erratic in your sounds of ecstasy that have wrapped around his cock as he jacks himself off on the other end of the line.

 “Tell him what he wants to know, Jimin,” Taehyung advises, his voice strained through the strenuousness of his own indecent actions as he wishes it was your cunt that his cock was enveloped in while his voice deepens, “I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

 “You’ll both wait until I decide when Jimin can play with what belongs to me,” Jungkook professes, his fingers speeding themselves inside you and when you whimper at the way he slides his digits deliciously inside you at the same time his thumb strikes your clit, it’s enough to have you buck your hips as he tightens his fingers around your throat in warning while he orders, “You’re not allowed to cum yet, babygirl. Don’t even think about it. I want to put my cock in you so you can warm me up for later, yeah?”

 “Jungkook, I can’t hold on for much longer,” you confess through elusive breaths as his fingers constrict around your throat for daring to admit that.

 “You’ll hold on as long as I tell you to, baby. That cunt won’t get off on its own, will it?” He husks whilst his fingers deftly stroke your walls in curled motions as his thumb falls from your clit to ream the outer lips of your sex and you sob out at the loss of stimulation to the nerves crowning your womanhood as he watches your expression change in a myriad of different countenances before you settle on submission and nod knowing that you won’t get what you want if you disobey him after many lessons imparted to you in the bedroom.

 “That’s right, baby. Obey,” Jungkook groans as you clench around him and it’s when he hears Jimin call for him in a hushed tone that a devious idea unfurls itself in his mind and he doesn’t have to look over at Jimin to see that the older man is bent over the desk and is mindlessly grinding into it to resolving none of the tension that coils around his hardened member.

 This little game was far too fun to end so soon and so Jungkook chuckles darkly as you stretch yourself open atop him, his digits tracing the sensitive skin around your hole despite the three fingers that are knuckles deep within you as he starts, “As for you, Jimin, I believe I said you’d need to beg for her if you want her that badly You do want her, don’t you?.”

 The older man stops his movements at the referral of his name, his eyes glinting pleadingly as he turns his head to lay his cheek on the table, the bones of his hands pressing taut against the whitened skin he grips the sides of the desk with as he wracks his brain for anything resembling a coherent sentence and it is the sight of you with your eyes closed and mouth parted as you rebound up and down on your boyfriend’s fingers that has his own quiver in the wish to feel you himself as he swallows to comply, “I-I want her so bad, Jungkook. I’ll…I’ll do anything you want, but please, let me touch her.”

 Jungkook seems to be satisfied with that as he nods, his irises blazing in acknowledgement as he demands, “Kneel for her, Jimin. That’s what all men eventually do for her and this precious little cunt.”

 The words are barely out of his mouth before Jimin falls before you, his hands closing around Jungkook’s knees just inches below your own that squeeze your boyfriend’s thighs in a vise-like grip.

 Need saturates his eyes and shaking fingers as he waits patiently for Jungkook to give him the green light and like this, the view he is granted might just make him cum untouched in the way that Jungkook sinfully shears his fingers in your cunt as you come down on them in frantic sweeps of your hips, his hand entirely drizzled in your essence that glistens as if to tempt him in the soft light of the room.

 He doesn’t realize that he’s salivating like a fucking dog until Jungkook gruffly commands into the shell of your ear that he flicks his tongue against, “Open your eyes, babygirl. I want you to see how fucking desperate you’ve made our little Jiminie. God, you’re fucking hot, doll. I’m so damn hard for you right now.”

 Not wanting to disobey him, you let your lids flutter open, your breath catching at the sight of the pretty boy that is on his knees for you. His once perfectly styled hair is tousled after he runs his hand through it, his tongue darting between his plush lips as he stares at you like you’re food he wants very badly to eat.

 And how you’ve wanted him to do just that for weeks, though you know deep down that Jungkook would always take you to the seventh heaven without fail.

 Your hips stutter yet again at the visage of him when you lift your head, one of your hands lifting so that your fingers can trace the outline of his shapely mouth. You are slow to make contact with his lips that are softer than a feather yet rival those of the Bratz dolls you’d play with when you were younger. He relishes in your touch and even leans into you as if to grant silent permission for more and when you run your digit down his lower lip to watch it snap back up against his teeth, you moan at the thought of what it would feel like if he-

 Your hand is suddenly pulled away as your boyfriend’s long fingers enclose themselves around your wrist as he brings your arm back to marionette it behind you and when he brings your palm down on his weeping member that sobs for you even through his trousers, that’s when you suck in a breath whilst the fingers on your throat release you to grasp your chin so that your head is turned to the side, your visage instantly being pushed back to him as he gives a devastating blow to your pussy through the twist of his fingers in your cunt to have you whine out when he jams them inside you.

 “I believe I taught you to wait for my approval before I let you do anything, didn’t I, babygirl?”

 “Yes, sir. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disobey,” you try even knowing that the last time he went unheeded by you, he’d left you on your bed to finish yourself off with your own hand.

 “And yet you did, baby. Do you think you deserve to cum now?” your boyfriend inquires, his fingers slackening inside you to have you whimper when he extricates them from you only to bring all three digits to his lips, his tongue laving at them as his eyes scintillate with fervor to have you clench around nothing and Jimin watches the way your essence oozes out of you without Jungkook to clog you now as your boyfriend’s irises simmer hotly into yours that he trails down your body and everywhere his gaze goes, the ire of fire is stoked in every crevice of you as he decides, “I think you need to be reminded of who really owns you. Take my cock out, babygirl. Do not make daddy wait.”

 With your back still flush against his chest, it’s hard to fight past the haze of arousal that clouds your mind. Your boyfriend knows this just by peering down at you and, taking pity on your afflicted state, he helps guide your hand to where his zipper is. With how unbelievably large he is, you don’t need to search for his cock in its obscene girth and lewd length. You don’t have to work at it his zipper for long, for it opens to you easily and really, you can’t think too much on the fact that he’s not wearing any boxers underneath his pants as his cock springs free and your fingers slip along it until you hold him in your palm.

 He’s heavy in your hand with the blood that engorges his member and your walls contract at the way his veins all but bulge out against your hand as you drag your hand down all the way to his base before gripping him to earn a groan from him that you swallow down your own throat when he draws you forward into a French kiss that leaves your tongue numb in how roughly he sucks it into his mouth.

 When you’re on the verge of losing what little breath you had left and you squeeze his cock, that’s when he releases you to rasp, “Good girl. Now, sit the fuck down on me and ride me.”

 Needing no further prompting, you raise yourself off him to line yourself up with him and when you sink down onto him and welcome him into your wet warmth, your head falls forward in the lack of ability to hold it up anymore, your mouth dropping open with the way that he fills you so wholly and completely that there is no room to think of anything but him.

 It is a lucky thing indeed that you have a birth control insert so that you don’t have to worry about anything in times such as these and it is pure bliss that pangs through every corner of your body the moment he finds his home inside you and you can only repeat his name with how deep his cock is lodged inside you.

 Below you, Jimin raptly observes how your boyfriend disappears inside you as you start to grind atop him, your hips eagerly canting him as he sits back and enjoys the show.

 “P-please, Jungkook, can I?” He questions, not caring at this point what Jungkook will let him do so as long as he can do something.

 “You know, you do have some really pretty lips, Jimin,” Jungkook considers, his irises burning into Jimin’s own in the view of him he’s given with your head down between your shoulders as you unthinkingly sweep your hips over him to have him grunt, “How about you kiss her with them?”

 A shaky breath trembles as it is dislodged from between Jimin’s lips, your eyes irises drawn to the source of the sound as you gaze into eyes that widen bigger than a Boston Terrier’s and you don’t have time to process what has just been said before a familiar hand wraps around the underside of your breast, a groan falling from your boyfriend’s mouth at how supple your skin is between his fingers as he holds one breast as if to offer it to the older man, your nipple hardening as his digits that have been chilled by the cool air cause goosebumps to raise themselves up over you.

 You watch as Jimin’s sight becomes entirely transfixed by the way that Jungkook’s hand completely closes around your tit whilst you continue to gyrate your hips atop him, a wantful moan releasing itself from your throat when Jungkook leans forward to take the clasp of the necklace he bought for you between his teeth as he pulls it back with him so that you follow him when he seats himself against the backrest of the chair once more.

 In the movement, your breasts sway while you pirouette your hips around Jungkook and, as if to entice Jimin, your boyfriend swirls his thumb around your areola that puckers itself out around the cold digit that draws itself around it.

 Jimin makes a sound akin to a wail and it’s what has Jungkook smirking wolfishly behind you as he taunts, “I bet it must be so difficult to just sit there and watch her get fucked so well, isn’t it? You want her, Jimin? Kiss her.”

 You observe the way that Jimin’s tongue swipes itself along his lips and the blonde haired man before you does not need to be told again before he slants himself forward and, all in one movement, opens his mouth to take the breast your boyfriend holds inside it.

 “Ah…please,” you whimper as his warm lips heat your cooled skin and your boyfriend chooses that moment to constringe his fingers around your breast to the same time that Jimin’s agile tongue flicks along the underside of your tit. His mouth and tongue are smaller than your boyfriend’s, but you’re beyond the point of caring as both men make it their motive to please you.

 When your boyfriend plants hot kisses to the tip of your spine right under your nape and below the fastener of the necklace he’d just been tugging on, Jimin seems to notice and suddenly, he’s hollowing his cheeks as he suckles from your tit like a newborn babe.  

 You splutter as your waist stammers atop of your boyfriend once more as he drives his hips into you, a grin lifting at his features as Jimin hums in satisfaction at the way your flesh melds around his mouth, the vibrations shooting like an arrow straight down to your cunt as your boyfriend impels himself inside you with a powerful thrust that had been drawn from the bow of his own hips.

 It’s enough to have you keen, one of your hands lifting behind you and back to tangle in the roots of your boyfriend’s tresses while your other cards through Jimin’s locks as you encourage both of them while you plead, “Please, don’t…don’t stop. I’m getting c-close.”

 “What are you guys fucking doing to her? She sounds like she’s about to break,” Taehyung comments against the slick sounds of his hand fastening its pace along his length as he chides, “Jungkook, it’s rude to ignore your superior when he’s asking you questions.”

 “You should consider it a privilege that I am allowing you to be part of this at all considering that you tried to take what will never be yours,” Jungkook groans when you pull at his hair while you swivel your hips erratically over him as you turn your head to the side to peer at him with a gaze that appears as fucked out as he will soon feel and he makes haste to attach his lips to the spot beneath your ear, his tongue darting along your sensitive skin while Jimin doubles his efforts on your breast to have you whining and when your boyfriend releases you, his other hand latches onto your neglected breast, his fingers expertly tweaking your nipple between them to have your own fingers tightening along your boyfriend’s thigh at the same moment that your walls contract around his member in warning whilst he amusedly discloses, “Since you’ve you been so complacent today, however, I think I will be merciful and let Jimin, your dear best friend, explain.”

 With your breast still in his mouth, Jimin’s eyes have become clouded by the lust that hazes them and Jungkook grins at the sight of the elder man’s ruin while he manages, “I…I’m sucking at her tit, Taehyung. Jungkook was right. They’re so soft in my mouth,” he draws shapes along your areola as he swallows and it’s only when you let your fingernails trail along his scalp that he is coaxed into continuing, “Jungkook is, well… she’s riding him and facing me so that I can see everything. You’d probably c-come if you saw this, Tae. She’s…she’s absolutely heaven in my mouth and her pussy just keeps swallowing Jungkook like it can’t get enough of him. It’s hotter than anything we’ve ever seen at the s-strip club.

 “Good boy, Jimin. So obedient for me. You may have your reward now,” Jungkook grunts while you bear yourself down on him at the same time that he slams his hips up into you all while he gropes at both breasts in his mission to have as much of you as he possibly can before he instructs, “Kiss her where she needs us most, Jimin. Taste her for yourself and see how fucking divine she is and understand why all men eventually get on their fucking knees for this cunt of hers.”

 The sounds of sluiced skin reverberate through the phone that lays innocently on the desk despite the sin unfolding around it and Jimin does as he’s told like the perfect little student and before you realize what’s happening, he liberates your breast from his mouth and delivers devastating osculation down your chest in flurried busses amidst lips soft as snowflakes as he descends down your body slowly.

 Your own movements atop your boyfriend’s member quicken in the rapid anticipation driving you back and forth on him and when you watch him pause his ministrations when he gets to the apex of your thighs, for you are entirely fascinated by the way that Jimin draws his lower lip between his teeth as he stares at your sex that greedily clings to your boyfriend’s dick.

 When his eyes roam upward and he meets your own, something flares in them to stoke the already fierce fire within you and when you curl your fingers in his locks to encourage him toward you, he relinquishes to you as if he’s merely your own plaything that you can do with as you wish.

 When his mouth finally affixes itself to the bundle of nerves that sit above your glistening folds, you cry out as your cunt closes around your boyfriend’s member, your fingers tethering onto them both as your thighs begin to tremble once more in the attention that is lavished on you between them.  

 Your boyfriend’s fingers find themselves winding around your neck once more as he draws your back against his chest and he croons, “Are you close, my love? Do you want Jimin to help you cum on me?” He hums when you nod frenetically to say, “I bet it must be really difficult not to let go and get daddy all dirty with your cum, huh? That’s alright. I’ll let you finish on me soon, but first,” his fingers constrict around your throat as he breathes into the shell of your ear, “What did I tell you that you need to do when you want something?”

 Language lurks somewhere in your addled brain and, as if to save you from punishment, Jimin lightens his ministrations to your cunt and instead airily pecks at your clit as you search your mind for what your boyfriend wants to hear.

 The longer you take, the more compactly his fingers curve around your throat and it’s when the hand still around your breast possessively squeezes you that breathe the air that begins to threaten to enter your airway as you respond,” Words, sir. You have taught me that I need to use my words to get what I want.”

 “That’s my girl. You’ve been so good for daddy, haven’t you?” He asks as he propels his hips into you in a harsh sweep of his hips that you readily receive as your walls welcome him.

 “Yes,” you suspire when his fingers release you around your throat to dive down and rest on your hip as he eagerly pulls you back down on him to earn a whimper from you, “I want..want to cum on you, daddy. Will you let your babygirl have her release, please? Want it so bad. Want you so badly, sir.”

 “Mmm,” your boyfriend hums, “I like it when it you beg for me. Since you’ve been so well behaved and let daddy do whatever he wanted with you, I will give it to you,” he says between kisses down your spine that his own bones will allow him to grant you before he straightens and speaks up, “Jimin, take her into your mouth once more, but this time, make love to her with your lips while her boyfriend fucks her tight little cunt, yeah? I want to see if she’ll squirt for us.”

 Jimin does just as he’s told, his mouth closing around your clit at the same time that your boyfriend crams himself inside you whilst his hand whorls around your areola as you squirm atop him. Jimin is tentative in the way he brushes the bundle of nerves with his tongue, but your boyfriend is surefire in the way he pistons himself up into you, your cunt fluttering around him in warning as you blurt,” C-close, Jungkook. Please-“

 “Cum all over me, babygirl. Get daddy all fucking wet and cream all over these pants that you fucking ruined because you need me so bad,” your boyfriend declares, both of his hands reaching for and trapping one breast in their hold as you fuck yourself over him before he husks, “Let Jimin see how good you are for me, doll. Show him how much you love my cock by coming around me and soaking me in your sweet juices, baby.”

 It is with a devastating swipe of Jimin’s thick tongue against your clit while your boyfriend tweaks your nipples between his fingers as he drives his hips purposefully into you that you throw your head back, your eyes rolling as you careen off the edge of the release you’d been dangling over for so long. It hits you like a watery wave that cascades over you and you scream out your boyfriend’s name as your walls swell around him and he throbs inside you while your walls clench repeatedly in their need to keep him locked within you until the last of your release has deluged you.

 Your essence pours down from the rainforest of your sex and you don’t know how long your womanhood ebbs and flows with it as your body is flooded with endorphins that liquifies your insides as Jungkook fucks you through it whilst Jimin sucks at your clit without pause, his tongue lapping at your sopping center that is doused with your taint like he’s a starved man eating away at the delicatessen that is you.  

 “That’s it, babygirl. Let him taste how fucking delectable you are,” your boyfriend croons, his lips securing themselves to your exposed shoulder to bring your flesh between his teeth as he too suctions you within his mouth as he coos, “She’s getting me all wet, isn’t she, Jimin? Does she taste as good as she looks? Come on, tell me, pretty boy.”

 Jimin releases you once he runs his tongue between your silken folds, his entire chin smeared in your essence as wipes it away with the back of his hand before licking away at that which has soiled his own skin as he peers with a hooded gaze up at you to confirm, “She’s sweeter than honey, Jungkook. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted pussy that appetizing. I…I could eat her out all day.”

 “Of course you could,” Jungkook amusedly replies, one hand settling on your hip to still your shaking limbs as his aching cock sobs for more within you, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your side while the digits of his other palm fondly trace the blooming petals of red and purple marring every inch of your throat and shoulders as he muses, “And what of you, babygirl? Did daddy take good care of you?”

 “Yes,” you try between labored breaths despite the way you lean into your boyfriend’s wandering fingers, “You treated me so well, sir. Felt so amazing.”

 Your boyfriend watches you lay your head back onto his shoulder, a smirk rising along the edges of both lips in amusement as he observes how your eyes flutter closed, your body sagging back against him despite the cock that is still lodged balls deep inside you.

 “I do hope that’s not all that you’ve got to give me, babygirl,” Jungkook tells you, the fingers along your nape ascending until he’s grasping your chin to urge your head to the side so that you stare into his simmering irises that are quick to light the fire of desire within you anew before he darkly declares, “because daddy’s not done with you yet.”

 Your breath hitches at that and Jungkook finds it adorable that your eyes manage to widen so largely while Jimin’s own just about bulge from his head at the insinuation.

 “D-daddy, I don’t know if I can take it,” you hardly manage to get out before he roughly consumes them himself, his mouth attaching to yours and drawing what little breath you had left away from you as his tongue glides across your lower lip before he nips at you in punishment.

 When he pulls away, you’re left entirely breathless as he taunts, “You will do what I tell you to because you want to please me, don’t you? You say that you can’t handle more, but you’re the same person that begs for my cock every night because you’re such a fucking slut for me, aren’t you?”

 “I…” You trail off when his irises dip languidly down your body until they souse themselves where you are still connected to him and underneath that, the collection of your slick that you’ve deposited over every inch of his nether region.

 “Cat got your tongue, baby? Or should I say cock got your tongue because of how needy for me that little cunt is?” He asks with a flick of a dark, sculpted brow.

 Despite the release that has just washed over you, you find the tide of lust soaking you through  with each word he speaks, your core dripping even more of your essence onto the pool of it that has accumulated over Jungkook.

 Jimin only looks on in rapt interest, his own cock quivering with the want that strikes him through at the spectacle of you spread open atop of your boyfriend.

 “Did she get off on you, Jungkook? Shit, that’s got me hard again,” Taehyung curses through the phone that had long been forgotten by you and Jungkook in the rapture that had befallen you both.

 “She did, Taehyung. She loved it, too,” your boyfriend affirms as you nuzzle him affectionately before he chuckles at your adorability, “She’s ready for round two now, I think. Jimin,” Jungkook’s blackened irises sear into the elder man’s, “You are to go to the couch over there and strip for her, but keep the tie on. Once you’re done with that, lay down on your back and wait for my precious doll to come to you when I tell her to. Got it?”

 “I-I understand.” Jimin responds as he stands, his knees sore from being on them too long as he leaves the two of you and begins divesting himself of his attire much to none of the notice of the both of you.

 Jungkook allows you to nudge his neck with your nose, your warm breaths tickling his skin and when you make the mistake of shifting, he hisses, “Careful, baby. You wouldn’t want me to take you right here again, now would you?”

 You lick at your lips while you stare openly at his, the hand that still is entrenched in his tresses sliding down to cup the base of his neck as you apologetically blink up at him to admit, “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to.”

 “I know you didn’t, petal,” he caresses your cheek with the knuckles of his hand before he helps you off of him only to turn you around in his lap, his still hard cock springing back against his chiseled abdomen and it is only when you face him that he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear to praise, “You’ve been so good for me, baby. Do you want me to give you a reward?”

 “You already have, my love,” you whisper as you lean forward to kiss the freckle beneath his bottom lip that you love so much before you tell him again, “You already have.”

 “So wonderful for me,” he adulates as he cups your cheek and runs the pad of his finger along it to utter, “Wanna make you come again, beautiful. Will you let me?”

 You nod, your own hand taking his tie between your fingers and twirling it around them as you bite your lip, “You already know the answer a thousand times over, Jungkook. I want to please you, too. Can I?”

 The hand on your waist wraps around you to pull you close so that you hover only an inch or so away from him and he groans at the way your hand closes around the base of his member to stroke him tortuously, his eyes flashing perilously as his own fingers enfold themselves around you to hold you in an iron hold as he husks, “You want to make me feel good, baby? Fine. Take off this shit covering my chest. I want feel you against me when I fuck you so good you’ll beg for me never to stop.”

 The ire of desire blazes at that within you, your fingers quickly moving to unknot the tie wound around the base of his neck. You make quick work of it, for you’d been the same one who had put it on him this morning after he’d taken you in the shower and bed. The coat is next and he has to let go of you for a tormenting amount of seconds that drag on agonizingly slow in the loss of you, but once you get rid of the suit jacket he’d had you pick out for him, the black dress shirt is mercifully the last piece of clothing that separates you from him.

 You salivate as you pop open the buttons that had already been opened down to the middle of his chest and with each iota of flesh kissed by the sun that is revealed to you, your salivary glands reproduce within your mouth to birth even more spittle as you hurriedly undo the fastenings of his garment. When the last button has been unsecured, that’s when you wet your lips amidst the aridity of desire that has dried them, your irises drinking him in as if drunk off of him as hunger coils low in your stomach.

 Muscle cords every inch of him and the six pack that proudly ridges itself along his abdomen boasts its vigor in the way that they jump against your fingertips that lightly trace along the tautened skin that is so eager to receive you against it.

 You push the shirt open thirstily amidst your throat that suddenly has become dryer than the Sahara desert as your irises roam upward to pectorals that must have been crafted by the gods in the thew of musculature that surrounds them.

 His darkly colored nipples stand to attention as you draw your fingernails over them to earn a growl from him as he takes both hands and pins them behind your back in one of his own while his other coaxes your chin up as he lifts your head so that you have nowhere to look but his eyes that burn with want into your own as he warns, “If you keep doing that, I’m not going to be able to handle myself. Don’t you want to play with Jimin? If you want to toy with me instead,” his voice hardens as your walls contract around nothing, “I’m more than happy to entertain you myself.”

 You whine at his restraint and he simply clucks his tongue at you, “ I know that it’s hard to control yourself around me, babygirl, but wait just a bit longer for daddy, okay? Look,” he urges you to peer over at the couch that presents Jimin to you both and the man lies on his back as he’d been instructed to, his hand on cock as he palms at himself while he watches the two of you, “he’s waiting for you, doll. See what you’ve done to him?”

 You can only whimper at the sight of the erect dick that sticks out of the pants he’s left open, his own coat long discarded with his dress shirt to leave only his black tie that dangles just before his cock. He’s about half the size of your boyfriend (of whom has the most monstrously made cock you’ve ever had the pleasure of having inside you), but you have not a care in the world about that as you observe the precum that he swirls around the head of his member, his eyes hooded as he gazes at you and calls for you, “Y/N…please…”

 You hardly realize what you’re saying before the words leave you in stilted whisper, “Want you both. Want you to fuck me so well like you always do while I play with him, daddy,” you pull your sight away from Jimin to glance back at your boyfriend who is smirking cockily as you ask, “Can I have your permission?”

 “Since you asked so nicely,” Jungkook ghosts his lips along your jawline, “go ahead, baby. Go warm yourself up on him and get ready for me, yeah?”

 “Yes, sir,” you answer breathily whilst he attaches his mouth along the edge of your maw and flicks his tongue devilishly against you before pulling away to help you up, the hand that had been holding your own prisoner releasing you to find the zipper amid your backside only to pull it open, your skirt sliding down your legs to puddle around your feet.

 You thank whatever force of nature had made you decide on your white lace thong for the day because Jimin’s gasp from behind you is audible to your ears as you preen at Jungkook’s own hitched breath that is fast to deepen into a growl as each thumb hooks under the sides of the panties he’d bought for you, his irises dilating at the sight he’d been denied when he’d been fucking you earlier.

 “Can’t believe you were wearing these for me, babygirl. You really do want to tempt daddy into losing his fucking mind over that pussy, huh? Such a fucking whore for me,” he rasps as he pulls the pearled strings of the panties apart so that they too join your skirt on the floor as you rub your thighs together amid the finger he slides between your glistening folds, your own hands finding his shoulders and clutching onto him as you moan, your head falling back as he rubs his digit along your slit.

 “Only for you, Jungkook,” you tell him as he spreads your legs apart with his other hand whilst the one currently nestled between your folds drags along your labia.

 “As you should be, baby,” he announces as he collects your juices and brings two fingers to his mouth only to suck on them as heat floods your core at the damning view of that as he groans at your succulent taste, “Now go and prepare yourself for me. Rub yourself on top of Jimin’s little cock and when I’m ready, I’ll join you.”

 He waits for you to take a step away from him, your knees buckling under you as your weight makes them wobble after what your boyfriend has allowed to be done to you and before you have time to let fear grip you in your descent toward the floor, his hands are there to grasp each side of your waist to steady you whilst your own grapple for each of his wrists as you cling to him for support.

 A strong chest melds itself to your back once more as he chuckles, “Everything okay, baby?”

 “Yeah,” you nod, “I’m fine. Thank you.”

 “Think nothing of it, doll,” he lowers his head to whisper hotly into your ear, “When I’m done with you, you won’t even be able to walk, let alone stand, my love. Now, hurry along,” he ushers you forward and watches you stumble forth amidst the heels that you kick off in effort to reorient yourself with using your feet, a grin rising along his lips as he takes in your cuteness before his eyes flick down to the phone still sat atop his desk, “You’re being awfully quiet over there, Taehyung. Has the masturbation brought you that much satisfaction while you imagined it was my girlfriend that you were trying to fuck?”

 “Shut the fuck up, brat,” Taehyung huffs in annoyance.

 “Brat? Is that what you call the man that let you listen in while he fucked his soon to be fiancé? Interesting,” he muses as he runs a hand through his hair, his tongue poking against his cheek in visage that is not missed by you, your heart fluttering at the words he’d many times uttered to you in the tender aftercare of passionate lovemaking and you smile at that despite the gruffness to which your boyfriend speaks with next as his irises find and melt into yours, “Such an ungrateful prick that you are, Taehyung. Since you want to act like a dick, I think I’ll just leave you to trying to keep your own hard while I ravage my girlfriend. How does that sound for being a brat?”

 “Jungkook, do not hang up on me,” Taehyung cautions, “You’ll regret it. As co-founder of this company, I can take her from you.”

 Jungkook growls, his jaw clenching at the same time that you sex contracts around nothing as he ticks his head to the side in a habit you’ve grown fond of whenever he’s especially unappeased with something as he bites out, “You dare to threaten me, Taehyung? You have the audacity to challenge me for what has always been mine and that which fucking ran from you and into my waiting arms when you tried to make advancements on my fiancé? You’ve just awoken the fucking lion, co-founder Taehyung,” Jungkook spits out, “Try me and you’ll get the fucking claws. She is mine and I decide where she goes, got it?”

 “Such a child,” Taehyung laughs mirthlessly from the other end.

 “Such a fool,” Jungkook jabs, “to lose to the likes of a child that will now ravish what you’ve sought after for years and yet, she chose me. She’ll always choose me.”

 “Jungkook, if you end this call, I’ll-“

 The man never finishes his sentence, for Jungkook terminates the call with the press of a finger, his chest puffing out in a show of virility that has you wanting to whimper for him as his eyes lift from the screen to your own to raze your insides with heat of a wildfire as he demands, “Get on Jimin right now before I change my mind and take you home to screw you senseless into our bed until I’ve fucked all this irritation out of me.”

 Desire flares in your sex as you quickly plant both hands on Jimin’s much narrower chest and swing your leg over him until you sit astride him on the couch, your irises pulled into the magnets of your boyfriend’s eyes that attract you so even when you’re straddling another man.

 He stalks forward towards you and, needing to relieve some of the knotted tension between your thighs, you shift and seat yourself over Jimin’s smaller cock, your mouth parting as you rub yourself along his length only to plead for you boyfriend, “Jungkook…more. Come to me, please.”

 Your voice wraps around your boyfriend like cool water on a stinging wound and, promptly, the anger that had begun to well up within him is drained by you as you implore him with begging eyes whilst you drag yourself over Jimin’s hardened length and Jungkook is helpless to watch as Jimin’s veiny member slides between your still sopping folds as you draw yourself along his dick.

 The elder man stays quiet, his hand rising to cover his mouth to stifle the sounds he’d make so as not to bear the brunt of whatever Taehyung had done to Jungkook, for he knows full well that Jungkook could snap if you do not completely calm the storm that had begun to brew within him.

 Your boyfriend looms ever closer and, like a predator to its prey, he stands tall above your much smaller body as his irises distend over you and he devours the sight that is you as you work yourself over Jimin and lather him in your essence. His already rearing member prods at your hole on one particular sweep of your hips over him and your boyfriend catches the way your breath is shakily exhaled from you as you peer up at him and only him, for you do not dare to look away when he’s looking at you like you’re a five course meal he’d eagerly eat.

 And gorge himself on you he does, because in the next moment, he’s behind you and sitting on his knees as his fingers spread your ass apart to reveal a puckered hole for him. His dick twitches at the thought of what he will soon do, one finger tracing the rimmed entrance that borders the back of your ass and when his finger is replaced with his mouth, that’s when you moan only for him to shove his tongue inside you as he suckles at your asshole.

 “Fuck, you’re still so tight even after the many times I’ve fucked you right here. Relax for me if you want my cock, Y/N. You want it, don’t you?”

 “Yes,” you breathe, “want it so much, sir. Please, give it to me. I’m ready.”

 Jimin, utterly enticed by the way your breasts bounce in your movements, leans up to take one in his mouth while your boyfriend opens you up for him, your walls rigid at first yet soon they soften to grant Jungkook greater access as he preps you.

 The tight ring of muscle around Jungkook’s tongue loosens around him when Jimin dances his tongue along the floor of your tit that he welcomes into his mouth, pleasure lighting you up inside like dynamite as you buck your hips over the elder man’s length.

 “You’re not ready if daddy has to work this much to get you to open up for him, baby. No matter,” he hums even with his tongue still stuck inches deep within you to send vibrations at sonic speed to your core as he goes on, “I don’t mind fucking you with my mouth if it means you’ll be able to take my big, fat cock.”

 When Jungkook pushes in a finger to join the tongue that swirls around your asshole, that’s when your back bows inward as he strings you like the puppet your body is for him around his digits, his finger curling inside you devastatingly as his tongue whorls around it to have you stutter, “P-please. Don’t want to wait for you anymore, daddy. Need you inside me now.”

 “You want something to fill that little cunt of yours?” Jungkook’s tongue extricates itself from you only for two fingers to take its place beside the one he’d already put into you as all three scissor you and you can only make a choked sound until he orders, “Then try and see if you can fit Jimin’s fucking dick inside it and keep his cock warm until mine joins it in your fucking ass.”

 Your boyfriend’s fingers shear into you with precision as you obey, your fingernails biting into Jimin’s pecs as you align yourself with his thinner cock and finally sink down on it to sit obediently on top of him in wait of your boyfriend’s next set of instructions. When your boyfriend takes you like this, usually you feel like you’ll burst with how large he is and how wholly he fills you. Jimin, however, is a miniature version that is much easier to maneuver yourself on without the colossal member attached to your boyfriend that you’ve known to satisfy you for so long now.

 Jimin’s eyes shut as he releases your breast from his mouth only to litter the underside of it with light kisses. He’s careful not to mar your flesh with his mark, for you do not belong to him and he knows that doing so will only stir Jungkook’s wrath later on, so he chooses to be wiser and avoid that as your hips still upon the final inch of him that you seat yourself on as Jungkook’s hands grip your sides roughly for leverage as the three fingers he’s plunged in you are impelled into you in forceful motions that have you whining in want of him.

 “You listen so well, baby. Your ass is so fucking tense, but I guess it’s been a while since I fucked you back here, huh? I’ll have to keep it in mind to put my cock in your ass more often, I think.” He draws his fingers out of you, his fingertips grazing your walls on the way only for him to propel them roughly within you as you fight the urge to ride the man beneath you as Jungkook asks, “Are you ready for me? I don’t think I can wait for you any longer, baby. I’ve been without you for long enough.”

 “Please,” you beg as you present your ass to him the best that you can while you’ve got a dick nestled between your netherlips, “Want you so badly, Jungkook. Let me have your big cock. You always take me so well with it.”

 The words have hardly left your mouth before the fingers inside you are pulled out, the tip of his well lubricated dick prodding at your hole as his fingers tighten along your sides for him to apprise, “Once I start, I won’t be able to stop until you’re milking the dick inside you while you beg for the mercy only I can give to you. This is your last warning.”

 You feel the shift of the couch behind you as your boyfriend rises to his knees, his tip poking at your hole as he hovers over you.

 Your hand closes around his wrist as you look back at him to offer, “I won’t stop you. I won’t ever stop you, my love. Do it. Let me feel you inside me once again, for the absence of you is too difficult to bear,” you release a sigh of satisfaction as he inches himself inside you as you breathe,” I yearn for you, Jungkook. Let me have you.”

 You watch your boyfriend’s eyes darken as he taunts, “You want me, baby? You can fucking have me.”

 With that, he plunges his cock into you without pause, a slight burn searing your walls as he stretches you out with his member as you cry out his name. You’re jostled atop of Jimin in the power that Jungkook sheathes himself into you with, your sex riding Jimin’s member without either of you doing anything in the aftershocks of what Jungkook quakes your body with as his teeth bite at the nape of your neck whilst he pummels you ruthlessly.

Pleasure pangs through you as your boyfriend rocks into you from behind and, wanting Jimin to do something to quell the need that smolders within you, your fingers wrap around the tie still draped around his neck as you pull it so that he’s made to sit up as you narrow your eyes, “Fuck me, Jimin. Let me see if you can please me like my future husband can. No one has ever made me feel as good as he has. Show me what you can do to me, Jimin.”

 He gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing in the movement and when your boyfriend thrusts violently into you to have your back arching and your eyes rolling to the back of your head, Jimin’s irises set determinedly before he impetuses his hips within you to have you moan out for them both.

 “No one fucks you like I do,” Jungkook hisses as he rams into you, your fingers constricting around the tie as you inhale the same air that Jimin releases in what little space settles between your lips as you bounce on the blonde-haired man while your boyfriend grunts, “And when I have you in our bed later tonight, I’ll make sure to fucking remind me you of that. The only reason he’s here right now is because I can’t say no if it means my babygirl will be happy.”

 You bob atop of Jimin as Jungkook continues to pound you, his dick far too little for your cunt that has become too used to the fullness of your boyfriend who splits you open every time he’s inside you and you whine in desire of more, your forehead resting against Jimin’s as you release his tie and drag his hand up so that it envelops your breast, his tiny fingers a stark contrast to Jungkook’s much longer ones as they stroke your supple skin while you part your lips for him and wait for him to take the offering you give to him.

 “Kiss me, Jimin,” you plead, your other hand laying itself over his cheek amidst the jerking field of vision your boyfriend wracks you in as you breathe, “Let me prove to him that your lips are as pretty as they look.”

 “My…my lips are pretty?” He swallows as you nod and he meets you willingly with soft, plushy lips that are soft as pillows against you and he’s much gentler than Jungkook as his tongue tentatively drapes itself over your own as it asks for entrance and when you grant it, his warm muscle dances with your own to the rhythm of your rapidly beating heart, his digits splaying themselves over your breast to rub soothing circles into them as he holds you close, your whimper taken into his mouth as your hips rotate atop him so that his length brushes the very edge of the cluster of nerves deep within you that your boyfriend aids in pushing him further into you with alongside the shove of his own cock into your ass.

 Jungkook swivels his own hips into you while he watches Jimin tilt his head to the side to receive you, the two of you soon becoming enraptured with each other as he traces your lips with his tongue whilst you nibble at his bottom lip.

 “Keep going, Jimin, you’re making her feel good,” Jungkook husks.

 With each kiss, Jimin seems to grow bolder, his lips soon traveling southward as he busses your chin and then down the column of your throat as you lift your head to give him access. He’s sure to let his tongue brush your flesh as he goes, your core clenching around him when he laves his tongue over your nipple that you lower into his mouth.

 “That’s it, Jimin, keep going. She’s getting wet again, isn’t she?” Jungkook inquires, one hand dipping from your side so that his fingers slide through your soddened folds as he groans, “Fuck, she’s so wet for us, Jimin. She likes what you’re doing, doesn’t she, babygirl?”

 “Ah-“ you gasp when he attaches his lips to your abused breast, his tongue lapping at your nipple as he you gyrate your hips atop him before Jungkook pounds into you once more, “I like it so much. Your mouth is so much better than I ever thought it would be, Jimin, fuck.”

 “I’m glad you think so, Y/N,” he mouths from around the tit that is presently within his mouth, his lips caressing your sensitive skin as he says, “You don’t know how long I thought about doing this,” the hand that still enfolds your other tit warmly kneading at it as he licks at your hardened bud to continue, “You have no idea how badly I wanted to kiss you here, how much I wanted to feel you like this.”

 “Consider yourself lucky that I’m the one allowing you to do what you are to her, Jimin. If it were any other man she’d asked me to do this with, I’d have said no. Want to know why?”

 “Why?” Jimin mutters against the slick ‘pop’ that his mouth makes as he relinquishes your breast only to focus on the other, his hand draggling down your stomach to catch on the press of his cock against his palm from within you as you moan when he bucks up into you as Jungkook burrows brusquely inside you.

 “Because,” Jungkook smirks knowingly at the blonde-haired man as he damns you with his cock through a devastating blow of his hips into you, the sounds of skin slapping sluicing the air around him as Jungkook confesses, “ You’re the only male that’s been around her for more than a week and not succumbed to her fucking charms that she likes to cast on just about everyone that owns a dick.”

 “It’s not my fault,” you pout and Jimin takes the opportunity to sweep his thumb under your lip as you turn your head into his touch so that he swipes his digit along your lip that you eagerly pucker your lips against in a fleeting kiss to his finger before you take his wrist to tug it down the line of your chin and along the column of your throat until he’s descending among the valley of your breasts while Jungkook jostles you forward and back. When Jimin’s fingers nurture the bud of nerves hedging the garden of your pussy, you moan, “How can I be blamed when I don’t even do anything but get their cocks wet for me, daddy?”

 “It’s all a game to you, isn’t it? God, you look like a fucking ragdoll with how rough you’re being handled, babygirl,” Jungkook says as he slams his hips into you to give a grunt, “Of course it’s your fault when you look like such a pretty little toy that they want to fucking break. You only opened your seams for me, though, yeah?”

 “Yes, Jungkook,” you laboriously get out and it is only then that you feel your boyfriend’s chest press down over yours, his arms falling forward to cage you into the solid plane of Jimin, your own breasts falling over the blonde-haired man’s pectorals as you as you’re melded to lay flush against him. Your hips jerk when Jimin’s cock grazes the clump of nerves deep inside you at Jungkook’s powerful ministrations, your mouth dropping open and your eyes fluttering closed as your breath hitches, “O-oh…Jimin…”

 The blonde-haired man’s cock twitches inside you at the mention of his name, but in the following moments that Jungkook screws you without abandon, he watches your face contort into one of unadulterated pleasure as he whisks his middle finger over your clit that has become engorged with the blood that pulsates needily for him and the male above you. It is a wonder that the space between your bodies is just small enough to allow him this and he touches you like you’re a glass figurine while your boyfriend fucks into you like you’re his puppet.

 “Jungkook, you should see her. She’s so hot. Shit,” Jimin doesn’t know he’s said what he’d been thinking aloud until there’s a dark chuckle that consumes any other sound as it emits itself from between your boyfriend’s lips as he rails you against the elder man and when Jimin drives his hips into you the same way he’d seen your boyfriend do to meet him halfway in reducing you to a mess of limbs between their chests, you give a guttural scream that has the windows around you shaking in the shrillness pitching your voice that has them threatening to crack.

 “Ah, there it is,” Jungkook husks, his hot breath drifting over the crook of your neck as he teases, “I’ve got you screaming for me just as I promised I would,” his tongue laves at the nape of your neck before teeth nip the tender spot as he forges forward into you all while Jimin ogles you from beneath him as your boyfriend utters, “What of my other vow to you, baby? Can you fucking tell which direction is which or have I turned that upside down, too?” You shake your head as he plows into you, your world spinning as he corkscrews himself within you as he taunts, “Can you even remember anything beyond my name anymore, doll?”

 Your walls clench around Jimin, who hisses at the sudden succumbing of his member to your sex as you’re knocked repeatedly into him like the pendulum of a seesaw, one side of your thoughts swinging to the other as you try, “J-Jungkook…Jimin …I-again…n-need-“

 “Mmm,” Jungkook hums,” She’s close. She can’t even fucking talk anymore. Jimin,” black eyes raze his own, “let’s wrap this up, shall we?”

 “What,” Jimin swallows as he watches the way your digits quiver around him as he skillfully skims his finger along the bud of nerves cresting your sex and your chest slides against his in the sweat that slickens you along him, the knot of pleasure deep in your core tightening just as your own hand does over the blonde-haired man’s wrist whilst your other grabs onto the twisted nodule of fabric at the base of his neck in your effort to hold onto something as you whisper his name pleadingly and Jimin is helpless to give you what you ask for at your glassy eyes that so resemble a priceless statuette as he adds a second finger to join the first to stimulate the button decorating your treasure as he asks, “what can I do to your beautiful little doll, Jungkook?”

 “Look at me while I fuck you, babygirl,” Long fingers curl around your jaw as he turns your head to the side so that you’re granted a glorious view of them both, your breath hitching at the way beads of sweat clamping to thick strands of tresses black as a raven’s wing falling perilously over your boyfriend’s eyes that glint dangerously at you, his own lips red as a rose from biting them too much as he snaps his hips ferociously into you, a moan drawn forth from you at the sight of him in combination with the frisk of Jimin’s shorter fingers along your clit as your boyfriend smirks, “As for you, Jimin, you may keep touching her where she needs it. I’m going to help you ruin her needy, pretty cunt and when I do,” you skin pebbles when Jungkook’s hot breath billows over it as he orders, “You’re going to damn her with your cock at the exact moment I decimate her with mine. Understand?”

 “Can she handle that, though? What if she-“ Jimin never finishes because Jungkook’s voice that is draped in certitude covers it.

 She will take it because she was made for me and will do whatever I ask of her, won’t she, babygirl?” As if to prove a point, his cock converges with your sex, your nipples poking into Jimin, who makes a choked sound as you rake your fingernails through his hair as satisfaction strikes you through whilst Jungkook’s fingers constrict just enough so that your attention does not stray from him and look away from him you do not when a familiar calloused thumb joins the two of Jimin’s that had been measuredly swiping themselves over your bud as Jungkook flicks a brow up in expectation, “Come on, baby. Tell Jiminie here that you can take it for daddy.”

 “J-Jungkook,” you implore with a nod, for the only language that you can possibly speak at this point is his name as he rocks into you while his thumb circles languidly at your clit alongside Jimin that are slower and softer in their ministrations, your eyelids drooping amidst the dark bliss the heavies them.

 “Good girl,” Jungkook praises and you preen at that, a dopey smile crossing your features in the vapors of lust that have settled over you while Jungkook’s thumb fastens its movements to reward you as he commands, “Jimin, match your pace with mine, yeah? Playtime is almost over for this one.”

 Jimin doesn’t need to be told twice with his own end on the horizon. With determination that twines itself through his eyes, his two digits that he has attached to you mirror Jungkook as if your boyfriend is the puppeteer of you both. Jungkook swirls his thumb expertly along your button while he marionettes his cock into you with fervor and you clench as he licks his lips to husk, “So beautiful, doll. You look like you’re about to fucking break,” he gives a sharp shunt into you, his balls slapping against your ass as you clench around Jimin, a strangled sound coming from between his lips and Jungkook doesn’t have to be in your cunt to know that you’re just as near as Jimin looks to be with the way that drool pools along the sides of his mouth and, with a grin, Jungkook’s irises string from yours to the blonde-haired man’s as he winds you up around him and when he hastens his fingers over you to have you whimper, that’s when he orders, “Now, Jimin. Screw her with your cock while I fuck her with mine until she cums all over you.”

 “Fuck,” Jimin curses, his hips twisting up into yours at the exact moment that your boyfriend deliciously drills his own dick with into your plushily lined sex as you’re reared against the blonde-haired man and geared like a fucking machine between the cogs of them both that grind into you and when Jimin’s cock throbs tellingly within you while your boyfriend stares down at you with danger flashing in pupils that dilate automatically for you, that’s when you fucking scream.

 The glass rattles as your voices pierces the air around you while you’re battered like a stuffed animal between two rough children and Jungkook’s eyes strike you deep with the cocks that fill you up as they devastatingly pair their thrusts together and when your boyfriend’s fingers intertwine with the one you’d unknowingly been clutching at the couch with, that’s when he grunts, “Come on, baby. Want you to come for daddy. Can you do that for me? Can you show Jimin how beautiful you are when that pretty little cunt finishes all over his cock while you look at me?”

 With the wind that is continually knocked out of you, all you can do is blink up at him in answer as you wrap your fingers around his at the same time the digits of your other hand tighten and tug at Jimin’s scalp only for the blonde-haired man to peer up at Jungkook as you’re dangled over the edge of your precipice once more, your walls fluttering in warning and Jimin, through irregular breaths that are drawn out of him in the rigorousness of his efforts, understands enough to let your boyfriend know, “She’s about to meet her end, J-Jungkook. Sh-She’s squeezing my dick. It feels so good.”

 “Feels like heaven around your cock, doesn’t it? Of course it does,” Jungkook groans as he plunges himself into you while Jimin rolls his hips, your head falling forward so that your temple rests against Jimin’s forehead while your mouth parts as their fingers quicken against your clit as you moan only for him to husk, “Shit, you’re so good for us, baby. I think I’ll let you cum for me in a minute, but first, what do you say when you want something from daddy?”

 Your mind has become wired only to the pleasure that pangs through you with each sweep of their cocks within you, but somehow, you wrack your brain to find the only other words that you know always appease him to pant, “Please, Jungkook…n-need you.”

 “That’s it, baby,” he rasps as your boyfriend runs his finger ruinously between Jimin’s own digits that draw shapes into your button and when Jungkook’s digit suddenly drags itself in hard figure-eight motions along it to the same time that his cock cataclysmically crashes impossibly deep into your ass, that’s when you’re thrashed against Jimin. The elder man perfectly times the buck of his hips into you so that his cock arcs against the clutter of nerves hidden precariously inside you, your irises jerking over the him before they’re threshed to your boyfriend that lodges his cock once, twice and then three more times within you to finally command, “Cum for me, babygirl. Get Jimin all fucking soaked because of what I let him do to you. Give me your fucking orgasm, doll. Give it all to me and let him watch you, yeah?”

 With the sin he spews, you release is swift to unravel you as you come undone, your walls spasming violently over Jimin and he hisses at the way you contract around him as if to pull him in, his own end quick to follow yours as your sex shudders around him amidst your trembling thighs that shake with the rest of your body as you shriek shrilly, your fingers constricting around Jungkook’s own as you hold onto him for dear life.

 When Jimin shoots a hot rope of seed inside you as his member twitches erratically, you hardly have time to moan at the sensation of it before your boyfriend possessively curls an arm around your front to pull you up and against his chest as he sits back on his heels to have Jimin’s own dick slip out of you and the other man throws his head back against the armrest of the couch to stroke himself needily as he hastens to replicate the feel of you around his member while he continues to spill all over himself amidst the pool of your own juices that you’ve splashed all over his dick.

 “You’re mine,” Jungkook’s other hand releases your own to wrap around your throat so that your head falls back against his shoulder as he crazedly crams himself into you again and again, the palm on your abdomen resting where his much larger cock pokes against it before trailing up to grab one breast as you whine while your own orgasm still forcibly strikes you through in unending sparks that electrify you as your boyfriend powers into you from behind before he growls, "Let him fucking see you fall apart for the only cock that you'll ever love, baby. You belong to me. Say it."

 “Y-yours, Jungkook…yours,” you cry out and it is that that has your boyfriend descending into his own end as he gives a guttural groan that you engulf when he urges your head to the side so that you can swallow the sound through the attachment of your mouths and he keeps his sealed against you until you kittenishly slide your tongue against his lower only for him to open his mouth to you and suck your tongue, along with any remaining air that you had, between his lips as he feasts on you until you have no oxygen or saliva left to give him.

 Jimin observes it all, heat stirring in his abdomen as he rubs furiously at his softening length that even now still oozes with the cum both you and he have drenched it with.

 Infatuation influxes the blonde-haired man at the way desire rings itself around the corner of your eyes from you in the cords of pleasure you’d been fibrously instilled with whilst Jungkook holds you close, your brows scrunching together as you bite your lip between your teeth in the aftershocks of your orgasm as your chest heaves over your boyfriend’s, the petalled marks that Jungkook had left over you blushing your flesh in your labored breaths.

 It’s captivating as a current and Jimin is pulled asunder for you all while Jungkook watches the emotions ripple across the blonde-haired man’s face, amusement lifting at your boyfriend’s lips at how easy it had been for you to capture yet another man in the palm of your hand.

 When Jungkook carefully extricates himself from to lay back on the opposite side of the couch with you still in his arms, he chuckles to himself as you silently nestle yourself against his side to snuggle up to him, one arm draping over his chest as you peer adoringly up at him while he makes room for you beside him to entwine his own limb around yours as he croons, “You’re so adorable after you get fucked, baby. Always have to cling to me afterward, huh? You know,” he traces the marks he’d left behind and you sigh with satisfaction as he does, “You’re cute, petal. Have I told you that today?”

 “Mhm,” you purr as you turn on your side to give innocent pecks to his chest while your eyes close as fatigue pulls at them and you affirm, “All the time.”

“I think someone’s a little tired, doll. Do you want me to carry you to the car?” Jungkook asks as he brushes an especially red mark that has purple smearing itself around it and you lean into the touch as a smile lifts at your lips while you stare at the brands he’d left on you.

 “’S fine. I can stay awake a-“ you yawn, your mouth opening only a little as you stretch your arms out before settling back next to your boyfriend –“little while longer.”

 “Yes, you sound awfully convincing, don’t you?” He teases as he sits up and you immediately whine until he laughs and helps you onto his lap as he urges, “I think it might be best to take you home now, baby. You’re about ready to fall asleep. Help me zip myself up, will you?”

 Responsive to him as ever, you tuck his member away before fastening his pants so that he looks presentable should someone see you and when he tucks you inside the blanket you’d hand-stitched and made for him for his birthday, you link your hands around his neck as he cradles you, his irises softening as he peers down at you while you whisper, “Thank you.”

 The double meaning is not lost on him as you have always said those words whenever he’s done just about every single thing for you and he drags his knuckles along your cheek as he offers, “You’re welcome, baby. Anything for you. You know that, don’t you?”

 You giggle as you beam up at him with the toothy smile that still has his heart flipping in his chest to let him know, “I do. Do you know that I would do everything for you?”

 He kisses you along the tip of your charming little nose as he nudges at your cheek, “And how could I ever forget that?”

 He carefully swaddles you in the fluffy fabric until you’re completely covered and all the while, his fingers lovingly caress your sides as he gathers you up and stands with you swathed in the safety of his arms. With his attention captured by your irises that swim with devotion for him, he starts moving forward and with his back to the other man that still is splayed along the couch, he glances back to say, “Ah, and I did not neglect to acknowledge that you’re here, too, Jimin,” he winks, “You did well. I can tell she enjoyed herself. I’ll be in touch. Please make sure you lock up, for I have more important things,” he peers back down at you with affection crinkling his eyes for you, “to attend to.”

 Jimin waits until the two of you vanish until he allows his own lips to lift out of joy born from watching such domesticity manifest itself in the form of two individuals that clearly were in love with each other with the way the emotion had so colored both of you and, with that emotion lifting his own heart, he dresses and locates his phone amidst the piles of clothes (both yours and his) that had long been forgotten.

 Knowing that you wouldn’t be able to walk, Jungkook had decided that foregoing your outfit would be best and so, as he carries you through the halls like the bride you will soon be to him, he smiles as he gazes tenderly at you, your eyes closed as you snooze comfortably in the cushions of his body as he holds you.

 You sleep peacefully in the passenger seat of his Mercedes S-Class Coupe and he glances at you every so often, your skin glowing amidst the emerald greens and ruby reds your skin shines with under the traffic lights as the city passes by in a whir with the constant to it all being your slumbering figure that gives him so much strength and stability in a ceaselessly churning life.  

 You were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen even from the first time you’d caught his eye and now, after so much time has passed, you still remain the most priceless jewel to ever gleam for him amidst the dull, dim passersby that pale in comparison to your transfixing bright light.

When he’s pulled into the quiet mansion that stands tall in front of the richly hewn garden you have tended to that borders an impressive watering fountain that cost him thousands, none of it holds a candle to the treasure he takes into his arms as he withdraws you from the car and gently brings you upstairs. He’s careful not to make sound so as not to wake you and when he sets you smoothly on the bed, you do not rouse until the sound of water from the shower in the adjoining master bathroom trickles over your ears.

 You divest yourself of your covering in search of the kind of warmth only your fiancé can grant to you and when you join him in the shower, he welcomes you and washes your hair before his hands trail along your body to clean that, too. You sigh in satisfaction as you thank him once more and with some insisting on your part, you do the same for him even in his concern that you might be too sore to do so. Mindless touches turn into something not so sinless as your hands wander along his chiseled figure that has the power to have you salivating with only one glance.

 He’s hesitant at first because he knows you ache from the strenuousness of the night’s illicit activities, but in your want to reassure him that you are not as fragile as you appear, you fall to your knees before him and take him into your mouth, his groans heating you up as you rut against his leg while you suckle him. You eagerly devour his seed that you’ve come to love so much when he is ready to feed you and once he helps you rise from the ground, he’s sure to give you a kiss that would rival that of the one in the most beloved romance story before he dries you both against your ailing and feeble legs that are weak for him and when he sweeps you off your feet once more, he still kisses you like his hunger will never stop its craving for you.

Even when he lays you down like you’re a glass doll that might shatter if he’s not careful, he still treats you like a piece of art as he looks at you reverently whilst he makes love to you amid your breathless admissions of love for him while he fills your canvas with his seed until he can give you no more of his paint to taint you with.

 And when the breeze blows against your sweat sluiced skin as you lay over him, your chin resting on his sternum while you innocently let the pad of your fingers brush his chest, he asks you, “Did I please you tonight, my love? Did you have fun?”

 “Sweetheart,” you press your mouth to the dip between his collarbones before you breathe, “whenever I am with you, those two things are always a given.”

 His heart dances in his chest at your admission and the fingers that skim your sides splay out to hold you closer as you stare fondly at him.

 “Such a wonderful girl for me. Have I told you how perfect you are for me lately?” He questions, his thumbs drawing shapes into your skin as he goes on, “I don’t know if I have or not. I suppose you’ll have to remind me.”

 "Every morning," you brush your lips against his own in a soft kiss before you pull away, "and every night, my love. Not a day goes by that you don't tell me that or how beautiful you think I am," you smile at him.

 "It's because it's true. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me and this, "he holds up the phone to show a text from Jimin you’d both missed in the middle of your lovemaking as he kisses the crest between your brows, "was for you, pretty girl. Whatever you want, I will always give it to you."

 "You're too good to me, Kookie. I really am so lucky to have you," you caress him, your knuckles tracing his jawline as you stare tenderly up at him, "You've always been the best for me and when we marry," you coax him toward you and he heeds your urging fingers along his maw as he meets you halfway to connect your lips to his own, but this kiss is one that he takes control of and you let him, your lips parting for him as his tongue dips low into your mouth to reclaim every contour of you in his touch before he disconnects from you for you to vow, "I enjoyed messing around with Jimin, but once marriage binds us together forever, I will love you and only you until the end of my days. No matter what, I will always yearn for you."

 "God, I love you so much. I can’t wait to marry you and put a ring on your finger so that everyone knows that you’re all mine," he ardently declares as he rests his forehead against yours to breathe in your air as he confesses, "They say that happy marriages look to the future and not the past," he lays back and brings you with him so that you're lain across his chest, his heart beating to the same rhythm as yours as he grins, "but baby, you are what I want my time to be filled with. You're my past, my present and my future and what we have together, my beloved flower, will never wilt."