#but I’m not joking about being a white guy and a virgin | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ladythornofrivia · 30 days ago

Text

Mr. Targaryen Will See You Now

Modern!Aemond x Reader (three parts)

warnings (for the future chapters): sex, oral sex, loss of virginity, squirting, stalking, obsession, manipulation, reader being clueless, but not totally innocent, blackmail, p in v sex, blood kink, knife kink, gun kink, handcuff kink, bdsm, masturbation, fingering

a/n: I’ve been doing okay, but things have been complicated. There are times I wish someone would love and protect me like in the romance book—longing for a romantic life and longing for connection and consistency. I’m still clinging on. Oh, and I started to drive, I’ve gotten better at driving, but still need to learn. And my family has been cruel to me that even made me believe that no one will love me. But art is my passion, one thing that keeps me alive until now. And thank you guys, for supporting me. I love you guys very much.

The morning hair wasn’t cooperating; you took a nice long, hot shower the night before the interview—which you knew nothing about, and planned on spending time to read books and drink merlot and binge on snacks, or watching korean soap operas, being a usual daydreamer you are— and you were getting ready for the interview, groggy, and sobbing on the inside.

The iron curl is broken. And nothing to repair except for your roommate’s curler, tried to make the curls tighter, hence why you brushed your hair back for a softer effect.

Long story short, your friend has called in sick, and asked you to fill in the details for her. Nevertheless, a shy and innocent girl such as yourself. Under a bad weather, you have to fill in, that’s what a good friend does.

Any shenanigans and canceled during the day of interview meant blacklist.

The appointment must be that important.

Clad in knit white jacket with black lines, white top and silky pleated skirt, with your sideswept longish strands tucked in, you were sure you’re going to vomit. Vomit from misery, vomit from stomach pain, or vomit from an awful weather, you made sure your clean, it-girl makeup is on plastered to your sleepy expression, hoping no one would take you as a joke. Presenting as possible also means the downside of being insecure or inferior is low. But with amount of makeup you set up, you made sure you’re neither too plain nor extravagant.

Everything has to be balanced accordingly. But appearance willing to stand out, if the destiny allows it to be.

“You got that tape recorder, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And the interview sheet?”

“Got it right here in my purse.”

“How about the gift for him?”

Your brows knitted. “I have it all set. I don’t think he’s going to accept this. There’s no way in hell.”

“Not if it comes from gorgeous lady like you. You look prim and proper today! Ready to go at the Met Gala, Miss Victoria’s Secret Model?”

“Ha, as if! Besides, I can’t go in looking like a wet rag. They’ll kick me out.” Sprayed a fee spritz of the sweet, vanilla, cotton-candy smelling perfume on your neck and neckline over your interview getup.

“Funny.” Your friend howled a wet, sloppy and stuffy sneeze. “Don’t mind me, just get your round ass going before someone decides to come behind you and give it a good smack, and it’s not going to be me.”

She spilled a good part of the soup as your friend accidentally swallowed and slurped the noodle and coughed. Oops.

“Careful, that’s a $50 white carpet I just got,” you said with a tiny smile.

“I’m being careful,” your friend said, inspecting the bowl if the spicy soup spilled. And there’s none.

“Alright, alright. I’ll go ahead. Stay still.”

“And you stay naughty with your ass poking out,” your friend shouted behind you as you walked off.

You must achieve perfectionism at all costs. That’s what beauty is for.

~~~

As you entered the high floor of the building, the receptionists, looking flawless and elegant, greeted you, as if you’re another member of the company. Beautiful women with beautiful problems with beautiful men, you’d assume.

“Miss Stark?”

“Yes?” you replied, the receptionist insisted to take your coat off, but you politely refused with a sweet grin, but you gave your umbrella instead. Nonetheless, the secretary lead you to the high double doors—grey and glossy.

Immaculate.

“Mr. Targaryen will see you now.”

And opened the door. By your mistake, you didn’t realize one of your items dropped, causing you to lunge forward and knees bruised, following by your personal items and paper for the interview flopped on the ground.

Your ankle received a sharp pain, pressuring.

By the glass window, a long-haired man in a steel grey suit pivoted his head around from the noise and approached. “Are you alright, miss?”

His voice tuned in your ears. You have never heard a voice with profound deepness and…seduction.

A realization pang when you found yourself agitating like a shy teenage girl in high school, a shy, awkward girl talking to a handsome guy. You bet he’s the type of guy who’s popular, but doesn’t give a fuck what anyone thinks of him, or that he doesn’t occur to him as a benefit of being popular.

You’ve never seen him on papers and articles on the internet. No picture has come to a close when you glimpsed at him in person. Too long, in fact. You thought it would be an old man wanting more attention from the source of dangerous media.

He’s that gorgeous.

Immaculate. Neat.

And strictly punctual.

Is he taking his father’s place for the interview?

“I’m doing okay, sir. I apologize for the inconvenience,” you replied with modesty, nearly breaking the sweat on your brow.

Instead, he huffed, returning back to his desk and leaned himself over the table, awaiting. Watching. A faint scar outlined from the thin brow to cheekbone.

You’d assume he’s associated with dangerous people underground. Though you never knew him personally. Only an assumption.

“Sit,” he commanded, ever so still.

Gulping your parched throat, after drinking water and caffeine—you purchased on your way��in the car, heading for the massive building, you wondered drinking coffee has an effect on the stability in the nervous system. Sat on one of the empty green chairs, you had your utensil pen you bought online from a Japanese website and an aesthetic mini notebook, readying the questions. Flipping over the rippled pages, you studied over the questions, and as it turns out your friend has more of an aspect on the side of…inappropriate philosophy.

Nearly face palming yourself, you wanted to strangle your friend for setting you up for failure.

What the hell are you thinking, dude?

“Are you just going to sit there and act like a mousy librarian or are you going to interview me for the benefit of my time and success?”

Shoulder blades flinched at the sound of his tone. “Pardon me, sir,” you stated, nearly shitting your skirt and thong on his green velvet chair. And cleared your throat. “My first question is…” Your friend’s questions doesn’t give that much benefit for his time and success, so you tweaked your friend’s intentions to more of a productive approach. “How do you stabilize the company despite on the near downfall from the predecessor’s influential endeavors?”

Aemond’s violet eye gleamed. “You did your research on my father.”

In silence, your head inclined as acknowledgment.

“My father’s attempts on reclaim to the company was rather a long difficult process. His real endeavor was to lure people for…unsavory tasks and planned on passing his inheritance to his oldest daughter, my half-sister, Rhaenyra.”

Something in his statement was trying to say he wishes to air the dirty laundry. But you knew that he’s not an idiot.

“And how do you approach it compared to his “past” attempts?”

“Business travels had more suitable to catering and stabilizing the company in years, by speaking to several CEOs and their predecessors who are much more responsible to financial and stocks, how they be able to keep the staff members and their company intact in excellent condition and how business traveling has more benefits on success than staying in one place in one country. Their predecessors are much more controlling than how much stocks they hold—eventually they lost their staff and shares due to certain disadvantages. I learned both sides of the same coin, and I learned to take advantage of both.”

“By being fair and firm,” you assumed, pen scribbling. “You want to be superior and be well-respected, but you also try to be fair in all sides to keep a steady balance, hence why you travel to different countries to learn about different cultures and their ways of work culture, how they handle their staff and clients. And you looked at the bad effects to make sure no mistake is taken place.”

“Precisely.” Aemond smirked as you wrote along his statement.

Scribbling further down on the page until you flipped to a next one, you tweaked another question that your friend’s opposing curiosity has.

“With comes along the inheritance, and with the hefty influence of social media, how do you manage to steady the balance as well? With your father’s…whereabouts and the company, and with today’s social influence and societal aspects on differences, how else do you keep manage from falling?”

Aemond clicked his tongue. “It was a difficult process, and like any ordinary day, we strive for sanity to survive. Not everyone handles scandals correctly. While those who handle with promiscuity, I handled myself, the staff and the company with grace.”

“I assumed that some of the members who are in connections with you, have no ability to face the outcome with grace like you?” you said without thinking.

Aemond frowned at that. “Not everyone.”

“My apologies, sir.” You flipped the blank page over. “And with that said, how do you envision your company in the next 30 years?”

“The questions you asked are vitally intimidating. Are you trying to challenge me in a way?”

“For your benefit of time and success, yes.”

Aemond’s lips curled into a soft grin. “Clever girl.”

Gulped again, you found your legs coiled to a tighter position. Hand nearly shook and released the pen, but caught on it.

Focus, (Y/N). No time to be naughty.

Stop being naughty. Don’t leave yourself along with naughty thoughts. You don’t want to jump on him.

Aemond sat down near you to another set of green velvet chair.

“Continue,” he said, almost sounded like a purr.

“I, uh,” you looked over your friend’s silly questions and alternate it with another. Meanwhile Aemond amused himself with your fluster. “With you as a CEO of the Targaryen Company, where do you find yourself in the next 20 years? Are you planning to be the CEO, or are you planning to inherit the company and stocks to someone new, someone who’s not related to you, even?”

Aemond’s head tilted to the side, his white-blond hair spilled over his right shoulder.

“I would like to know more about yourself, Miss Stark. For a woman who belongs to a prestigious family, your wit and tongue are sharp. Are you always this curious?”

“You’ve met them?”

His brow flicked up. “I met your father during the meeting sometime last week. He has a well-deserved reputation.”

Your hands clutched tighter.

Aemond squinted his hues. “There’s more than meets the eye. What is your name?”

Correcting your postured, you answered in delicate voice. “My name is (Y/N), sir. (Y/N) (L/N).”

Aemond hummed. “(Y/N). I never thought you took your friend’s place to interview me.”

“She’s sick.”

“Figures.”

Your brows scrunched. “How do you know?”

“I can see the way you’re fidgeting to your pen.”

“How do you know her?”

“I know she’s not the brightest girl, nor a brightest student. I overheard her spoke once over a party on how she wanted to have a wonderful marriage with a wealthy man to make her ex-boyfriend jealous.”

“Okay, I don’t need to know that sort of detail, but—”

Aemond took the folded paper from your hand. “Are you single? Are you interested in marriage besides marrying to your own company? Does your family know that I’m single?” He looked at you in disbelief and said, “I’m surprised you have thought of particular questions you asked on the spot despite the opposing questions your friend makes.”

“It’s a job interview. It’s meant to be taken seriously.”

“And you did well, Miss (Y/N). Therefore, I wished to know more about you.” His back leaned in on a large chair frame, as he tossed the folded paper on a small coffee table. “What are you studying right now?”

“I major in history and art.”

“What are your favorite things to do on your spare time?”

“I like to go to the gym. Go to Starbucks and drink coffee. Sometimes I make coffee at home, and then…I sometimes read and watch a lot of shows…”

“What kind of shows?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“So it’s romance?”

“Yes, but a different kind of romance…” you stated, awkward.

Aemond titled his head again.

You shifted in your seat.

“It’s a…um….”

He chuckled. “I never meant to put you on a spot, Miss (L/N), I apologize. So what are your plans regarding to work?”

“I’m studying at the moment for my finals.”

Aemond uncrossed his legs, his back leaned forward, gazing to your eyes. “I would like for you to be as my secretary.”

Your lips parted.

“There’s an internship that I’m offering at the current moment. More benefits for my staff and PTO.”

You leaned back and thought of the offer, but Aemond stopped you.

“What sort of books are you into, Miss (Y/N)? If I were to guess, Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte or Tom Hardy, which author do you prefer?”

“I prefer Leo Tolstoy and Fyodor Dostoevsky.”

Aemond folded his hands together. “Sad and poetic?”

“It’s the closest thing to reality. I don’t mind Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte or Tom Hardy. Although Tom Hardy’s stories are also considered as tragic. But..reading modern romance novels isn’t so bad. But I found myself more addictive to coffee, fashionable clothes and beauty products more now.”

You found yourself smiling at that. The sharp gasp filled in your throat when Aemond’s hand reached you, and tugged the band wrapped around your hair, loosening it, and combed the silk, lustrous strands through his fingertips, staring at you.

“Perfect,” he whispered.

You nearly pinched yourself before the secretary entered. “There’s a meeting in the conference room. Another company has requested for your presence.”

Aemond retrieved his hand on time. “I’ll be there soon.”

The door closed as you said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” And a heavy thud clashed onto the ground. It was a gift. For him.

“For you,” you said, handing the gift over.

“What is it?”

“Chocolate.”

Aemond chuckled shortly. “I don’t eat sweets, Miss (L/N).”

As you got up from the seat, Aemond’s hand grasp for your wrist, making your head turn to meet his beautiful eyes. “Think about my offer,” he said, along that, he handed you his card by tucking the card in on one of your back pocket of your skirt, lingering on feeling your round ass than how someone touched you.

With that, you bowed and left his spacious offer, leaving him with wonder and amazement.

He ripped out the ribbon and wrap, revealing it to be compliments for him. Chocolates—as you claimed—and framed translucent glass with a green ink dragon inside.

He ripped one of the pieces from the chocolate box and ate one. Sweet, like yours. He wondered what you would feel and taste like.

Aemond found himself a new toy to play with. Another bite of the caramelized chocolate, with finding himself in an entrance with you, he has his sights on you. And thus dialing the phone number on his smartphone.

“Sir?” a voice said on the other side of the phone call.

“Hello. I have a task for you. You won’t fail me.”

One taste of you, and he won’t ever plan on letting you go.

~~~

Heavy door slammed shut and met up with your friend again.

“Sooo…how’s your meeting with him? What’s he like?”

“He’s…nice?”

“Nice? Saying the word ‘nice’ is automatically a code for friend zone.”

“No, I mean, he, he’s intimidating, and yet he’s able to answer my questions.”

“You mean my questions?”

You handed over your notebook to your friend on your original questions. “Wow, even I can’t ask a question like that.”

“Aemond found out that I stepped in for the interview instead of you.”

“How can you tell?”

“He met your father last week. And he already knows what you look like.”

“I never even knew him personally.”

“And he overheard you on how you wanted to marry a rich to make your ex jealous. That’s not something to easily slip by. Aemond has sharp ears and tongue.”

“Ugh, he caught me.”

“And yet those questions you wanted to ask him is simply more than an interview because why?”

“Because no one knows about him personally.”

“Yeah, but on a matter of a serious spectrum, not a flirtation. Do you even find him attractive, or do you want to set up with his siblings?”

“Ew, no, I don’t find Aemond handsome, but his other brothers do. Or his uncle.” Your friend looked over your interview questions. “Looks like he’s impressed by you.”

“He is.”

“So is he asking you out on a date?”

“No he asked me to be as his secretary.”

Your friend gasped. “No!”

“Yes, he is. He mentioned about the internship, and..”

“Are you going to take it?”

“I haven’t thought about it that much. I’m still studying for the finals.”

Your friend made a casual dismissive wave. “You’ll do great in the company and you get to see his gorgeous face everyday.”

“I thought you said he’s not your type.”

“He’s not. I like his uncle more. Older guys are my thing.”

“Right. Because older men knows how to take care because of their experience.”

“Exactly! I think you and Aemond are going to get along so well! Who knows you’ll get benefits. Even from him.” She winked and took the rest of the coffee.

“Hey!”

“Thanks for the coffee!” And the bedroom door slammed shut, leaving you happy about today’s outcome.

Clapped your hands together, you said aloud to yourself, “Alright! Time for me to take a shower, get dressed and watch some drama on Netflix.” And cheered your way into the bathroom. “By the way,” you called your friend out, shouting, “I didn’t get to tape-record him!”

“WHHHAAAAAATTTTT?!” is what your frantic friend responded.

~~~

Unbeknownst to you, while you’re undressed and soaked in the shower, Aemond’s pants unzipped, his hand caressed his large cock, pressed it harder as you scrubbed your legs and backside.

Delicious.

The bulge in his pants was ready to spring during the interview with you.

Thanks to the card he handed over by tucking it into your back pocket, he felt how good your ass looks. How your ponytail given him an impression that you’re a good girl on the outside but a bad girl was somewhere hiding, dying to get out.

Stroking his hard cock faster, moaning aloud—strained—as he watched you rinsed the soap from your body and stepped out of the shower with your tits bounced, remembering the perfume scent as Aemond went close to you. How he’ll perform his fantasies with you. Envisioned you, right next to a knife, he’ll play with blood trickling down on your skin alongside of bruises on your wrists on handcuffs.

It was beautiful.

Divine.

Cum spritz out, flying and plopping over his thighs, leaving him with a heavy huff and lustful gaze glueing to your naked body, drying up from a steamed shower.

She’ll be mine.

Taglist: @kittendoll05 @xcharlottemikaelsonx @paninisstuff @angeljcca @marvelescvpe @heavenly1927 @snh96 @httpsmenace @domithebomi @moonseye @faesspace @liannafae @buccini555 @watercolorskyy @taangie @qardasngan @jolixtreesunn @screaming-potato @dixie-elocin @momowhoo @saturnssrings @dani5216 @blackgaladriel @theboleyngirlx @elaratyrell @fun-loving-peach @jmliebert @ilikechocolatemilkh @20thcentwriter @sepherinaspoppies @venmondiese @snowprincesa1 @witchy-v1xen @1800-fight-me @fan-goddess @persephonerinyes @anukulee @galactict3a @maxshortformaxine @lcolumbia1988 @ilikemintpeassss-blog @arcielee @hippiedippiekitty @bellaisasleep @lokiofasgard12 @barnes70stark @vipervixxen @f1girlieee @namelesslosers @darylandbethfanforever9

242 notes · View notes

flomelias · 5 months ago

Text

the boys ; nsfw alphabet!

requested by anon! afab, feminine reader. includes the deep. warning for nsfw. fandom masterlist found here. 🖍️ . . . author notes: sorry this took so long to roll out! my mental health’s been so up & down <\3 but i think i’m back on track!

the deep

— a = aftercare — doesn’t know the world aftercare. he does know generally to hold you for a few minutes afterwards. but i’ll be honest his street name with women is probably “get off and go”… the ridiculous way he fucks and ducks would be funny if it wasn’t so annoying. just coax him ( or demand of him ) to stay. you’ll have to train him a little like a pavlov dog but he’ll get there.

— b = body part — not sure about your favorite body part of his but his favorite part of you is likely your tits. i think kevin’s a total boob guy, they’re just so aesthetically pleasing to him. doesn’t matter if they’re big enough for him to rest his head on or small enough to fit fully in his palm; he loves tits.. first thing he does when a girl undresses is sucks on her nipples. he’s actually really good at palming, kissing, sucking, and occasionally nipping at your breasts.

— c = cum — a tinge salty. usually a warm off-white color. thick, also. the deep’s favorite place to cum is of course on your tits, but he also enjoys seeing your thighs all sticky and shaky too.

— d = dirty secret — is not an anal virgin! i just know he’s taken it up the ass at least once, though he refuses to say whether it was from pegging or from a man. one day you bring pegging into the picture and moskowitz’s a little too casual about letting you slide that strap of yours into his eager hole. it’s a lot less tight than you imagined, too.. that’s when you realize he’s not new to the concept.

— e = experience — he’s fairly experienced especially in the realm of vanilla sex. he’s not new to toys or to taking it up the ass but he doesn’t exactly say that he’s experienced with those things.. so you’re introducing them and thinking he’s never done it before and then you’re like “wow he’s taking this really well… wait.” i feel like he goes on freaky side quests so he’s got knowledge on some more taboo things but he’s slightly ashamed of it in a way? he’s ashamed of getting off to things like being pegged or being in positions where his partner’s in power. fragile masculinity and such.

— f = favorite position — he would probably tell his friends something stupid like “whichever one where she’s bent over and i’m fucking her from behind”. but secretly? kevin’s favorite positions involve you standing up or sitting in a chair and him on his knees or somehow lower than you. when he gets to kiss up your legs or eat you out from under — sometimes you make him ride your boot and ( despite his hesitation each time ) he likes it a lot more than he cares to admit. he likes being put in his place. loves when you ride him like he’s nothing, too. he’s fucking you but you’re still in charge.

— g = goofy — he’s usually pretty goofy, making jokes until you tell him or force him to shut up. on the bright side, things will never be awkward! he’s relaxed enough to let a lot of mistakes slide if you’re inexperienced. he’ll laugh it off, though he might bring it up to tease you later. i think the only time he’s not so goofy is when you’ve got him needy and restless, pleading with you for something. when he’s all desperate, his only focus is behaving for you. no jokes, just pleas and whimpers and those darling eyes of his tearing up as he begs.

— h = hair — shaves when you ask. doesn’t shave unless you ask him to or unless he gets bored and wants to clean himself up.

— i = intimacy — the deep is definitely not the most romantic in the book but he tries during foreplay. he’ll press his forehead to yours and maybe make a corny ocean related love pun. you’ll laugh and he really likes that, your laugh, and he’ll kiss your neck and then.. he’ll see your chest rise and fall and.. fuck, he’s getting hard. and then it’s all out the window — sex, now. please. he’ll be romantic again afterwards if you’ve schooled him on aftercare but — babe, when you look so good and you’re already so close to him? sex, sex, sex.

— j = jack off — sometimes calls you in the middle of the work day just to jerk off. he finds it so hot when you talk him through it from wherever you are.. also, moskowitz has definitely jerked off in the seven meeting room when no one else is around 😭 don’t flash any uv lights around his spot at that fucking table. if you tell him not to masturbate, he’ll try his best not to. but, i do think he is a victim of supe libido ( though not as much as a-train.. ).

— k = kink — being dominated easy. this is a man born to be a sub, forced to be a dom. doesn’t mean he doesn’t love pounding into your cunt every so often and making you scream his name despite yourself. but he is just as, if not more interested in being your little boy toy to use and abuse and all those things. and then tell him he’s a big strong man afterwards, that’s the cherry on top. he just took your strap like a champ — only real, tough men can do that!

— l = location — if you’re down, he’s down, especially when he’s horny. any location will do, though preferably somewhere with a little bit of privacy so he doesn’t have others seeing your body.

— m = motivation — the deep’s not extremely easily motivated but, c’mon. it’s you. if he’s in love with you he’s going to be aroused by whatever you happen to do in relation to him. you compliment his work? hard. you laugh at one of his stupid jokes? hard. you slap him? ouch.. hard. and probably needy too.

— n = no — don’t touch his gills ever or he will freak out. it honestly takes a bit of time for him to even be comfortable taking off his shirt around you. i think this is something you could try to work on but even as he grows more confident in himself and his body, kevin doesn’t want you touching his gills. you can kiss around them, however, once he’s close with you.

— o = oral — oral king. loves to eat, loves to be sucked. absolute adores oral, it’s easy and it’s fun and it makes his toes curl, giving or receiving. genuinely, i think he’d be a big fan of it.

— p = pace — depends on his mood, your mood, and what you’re both wanting in that moment. he’s usually not very sloppy until the very end unless he’s been edged for a while. every now and then he wants it fast and reckless but most of the time he’s fine with going at a medium sort of speed.

— q = quickie — if it’s oral then yes to quickies! but a strong no outside of that. moskowitz doesn’t want to fuck you for ten minutes, no, he wants it to stretch. to be fair, head is like perfect for quickies anyways. especially if you’re giving and he’s been pent up that day.

— r = risk — generally, if you’re down, he’s down. just talk to him about it while you’re kissing on each other, don’t spring it on him. you might have to walk him through the concepts you’re bringing up, maybe have a video handy.

— s = stamina — supe stamina is nothing to play with. he stops when you tell him to but if you don’t speak up he knows to stop when you’re all fucked out and babbling or out of breath. especially if he’s sub, he stops when he thinks you can’t take anymore because he’s a good boy who can take care of you. the deep doesn’t want to fuck you to death, silly.

— t = toys — not inexperienced with them but not a full fledged toy master. he’s open to using whatever you have if it looks interesting or sounds promising.

— u = unfair — every time he tries to play unfair, you quickly put him in his place and he loves that. just a little bit of a brat sometimes. he’ll tell you to beg for his dick and all you have to do is pull his hair a little — he’s rolling his eyes all playful and pretending like he’s not harder from that. “okay, okay, miss impatient…” as kevin lines himself at your entrance.

— v = volume — not loud, not quiet. kind of just average or normal? he doesn’t like it when you’re quiet though, makes him feel like he’s fucking a dead fish. react, respond, insult him, anything. just don’t be quiet, don’t seem bored.

— w = wild card — i think you guys should try using vibrators on each other throughout the day. i think he’d enjoy that. you both come home all shaky and aching and desperate for each other, barely making it to the bedroom because you’re undressing each other in the hall. 🫶

— x = x-ray — again, not good at describing penises. i don’t think his is the prettiest but it’s definitely big. homelander’s is the prettiest in my mind.

— y = yearning — medium to high range supe libido. jokes about fucking you all the time but he’s really not as sex obsessed as you’d think.

— z = zzz — he likes sleeping with you after sex a lot.. it’s something that surprises even him, as usually he does the good ol’ fuck and duck. he loves when you cuddle into him or when he’s able to cuddle into you, holding onto you by the waist and finally relaxing. he’s so content with the sound of your breathing or snoring. like constant ocean waves.. so comforting. you’re like home to him, in moments like these.

#my work #flomelias #the boys #the boys x reader #the deep #the deep x reader #kevin moskowitz #kevin moskowitz x reader #the boys headcanons #the boys imagine

113 notes · View notes

justmeinadaze · 1 year ago

Text

Him and I (Steddie X You)

Prequel to Without Me / Part 2: You Should Be Sad Here

A/N: ENTER WITH CAUTION! Like my previous chapters THIS WILL MAKE YOU FEEL! Its angsty and dealing with dark themes of addiction. I WILL STILL LOVE YOU IF YOU CHOOSE TO SKIP THIS STORY!

Warnings: Toxic Steddie X Fem Reader, SMUT, I wanted to show the two parts of them and how the treated her before and after they started getting worse with their vices. The first half involves loss of virginity for the reader, dirty talk, kinda rough but more passionate I would say, The second half is definitely rougher, more dirty talk, degrading (whore, slut, etc), spanking, choking, Y/N is a willing participant in both instances!

Some FLUFF, they really do love her and vice versa but unfortunately they love their addictions more.

ANGST: DARK THEMES OF ADDICTION! Steve is an alcoholic and Eddie is a drug addict. Reader mentions more in Without Me how she's addicted to them and I feel like that's explored a bit more here. She gets on them a lot about their vices and every time they are dismissive. There are mentions of their childhoods and we do get an interaction with asshole older Harrington here (he belittles Steve and smacks him).

The accident from Without Me is here but with some details. Its more about Eddie and Steve's interaction before they ran and left her. We also get a glimpse of her in the hospital waiting for them.

Again NOT A WARM FUZZY STORY! I won't blame you if you choose to skip it <3

Word Count: 7874

1982

“That was…the grossest fucking thing you two evil people have ever shown me.”, Steve shudders as the three of you exit the theater.

You and Eddie cackle as you follow behind him out the front door.

“Oh, don’t be a fraidy cat, Harrington. It wasn’t even scary.”, the metalhead teases.

“I thought it was creepy. What would you do if I started to transform into some evil screeching alien?”

“I would still think you’re beautiful, honey.”

“Aw, Steve Harrington, you’re so sweetheart.”, you joke as you stick out your tongue.

Tonight was a much needed reprieve from all the chaos you and your two best friends had been dealing with. Junior year at Hawkins high was shaping up to be an exhausting one. Steve’s dad was on him much more and with more vigor than he had before reminding the younger Harrington that his future was looming just off in the distance.

“Steven! It’s time to buckle down and really focus. No more playing around, son. You need to focus on bringing up those grades and being a better athlete so you can get into a good college. I don’t hire losers at my firm!”

The older Eddie got the worse the town and student body seemed to be with him.

“What’s wrong, freak?! To busy focusing on your satanic shit? Get lost and take off that fucking Dio vest! You look fucking stupid.”

He did everything he could to focus on other things but idiots like Jason Carver and the other jocks were always around to make his life hell.

That’s probably why they both seemed to “let loose” more than usual or at least that’s how they described it to you the first time you noticed them excessively drinking and doing drugs.

“It just takes the edge off you know?”

“Is it? Steve, you have a flask now that you carry with you. Why would you need to do that?”

“It’s not a big deal, Y/N. It’s not like I have a real problem or anything.”

“Yeah, it’s just to relax. Here, sweetheart, you look like you need to chill out for a bit.”, Eddie adds as he offers you some of the white powder from the bag you noticed on his dresser.

“Um, no thank you. I think I’m ok weed.”, you giggle trying to laugh off the worries that bubble in your stomach.

You had started worrying about them more and more since this past summer. When you guys started high school, you noticed a change in them that wasn’t just normal adolescences. Steve’s words started to slur more throughout the day and whenever you three would spend time together his breath would smell so strong like a bar that you’d have to take a few steps away from him so you wouldn’t cringe every time he opened his mouth.

Eddie’s personality would shift at random points. In the mornings he would seem like the metalhead you befriended and then by lunch his behavior would be so erratic that it would frighten you sometimes. By the final bell, you would notice him staring off into the wall or even find him passed out in the back of the library.

Your mind always explained it away with different excuses almost as quickly as the ones they gave you when you asked questions.

“Hey, do you guys want to come over? My parents are out of town this weekend.”

“Sure. Sounds like fun.”, you beam up at him.

***

You woke up that following morning on Steve’s bedroom floor with Eddie beside you and the other boy passed out leaning against the wall with his long legs stretched out towards you both. Quietly, you got up to use the bathroom, checking your reflection in the mirror before you ventured downstairs to grab some breakfast.

Your eyes scanned the photos along the stairs, sympathy washing over you as you noticed Steve’s uncomfortable demeanor in all of them. His house always had a sad air surrounding it. It never felt exactly lived in and when his parents were home, neither seemed happy. Both he and the metalhead spent a lot of time at your place which you didn’t mind. You loved their company and you wanted them to feel safe.

Your parents always treated them like family and that’s how you saw them as well. You knew what both boys had been through and were still going through. Anything you could do to make things easier for them, you did with little to no question.

After opening his pantry, something immediately caught your eye. Within the trashcan were a ton of empty liquor bottles. Not just single beer containers but bottles of whiskey that should last a long time in a house with one occupant, emptied and discarded.

“Hey Y/N. What are you doing up?”, Steve groggily asked as he entered the kitchen.

“Steve Harrington, what is this?”, you inquire back showing him the contents within the trash.

The man’s eyes widen and it takes him a moment before he nervously chuckles.

“Uh, my parents had a party last week so—”

“Your parents weren’t home last week. You told me they were on a business trip which is why you spent the night at my house because you didn’t want to be alone.” The two of you stared each other down until you finally continue. “You drank all this by yourself?”

“It’s…it’s not a big deal, honey.”

“DON’T you honey me, Steven!”

“What’s going on?”, Eddie asks after loudly banging down the stairs.

“Did you know he was drinking this much?!”, you shriek as you show him what you found.

“I mean, it could be worse, Y/N.”

“HOW?! How can it be worse?! Are you fucking kidding me?! Rock bands don’t even drink this much!”

“Y/N! Come on. You’re making this into a big deal when it’s not!”

“Fuck you! I’m not going to watch you drink yourself to death. I love you but this is excessive!”

Stomping past them both, you head for the front door but the man hastily cuts you off and blocks you from leaving with his body.

“Y/N, please. Shit… I’m sorry, okay? You’re right. I have been going overboard lately. It’s just everything with my dad and school… I promise this will never happen again.” As your arms fold over your chest, his beautiful eyes scan your angry frame. “You’re the only one that ever cared about me, Y/N; you and Ed of course.”

You sigh as your demeanor softens.

“I DO care about you a lot, Steve. You know you can talk to me about anything and I’ll be there for you no matter what. You both don’t have to numb yourselves the way you do.” Eddie nods as you turn towards him, his head hanging in shame. “I worry about you two so mu—"

As you swivel back towards the other boy, you’re surprised when you are met with his lips on yours. You had never been intimate with them in any fashion up until this point, always seeing them as your best friends. You’d be lying, however, if you didn’t say Steve’s lips tasted good.

He pulled away from you for a moment, the two of you panting into each other’s mouths as you process what just happened. Before you could do anything or even respond, a ring covered hand grabbed your arm and yanked you against a bare chest as Eddie’s own lips connected with yours.

You could still hear the other boy’s heavy breaths causing you to groan at the sound. Lifting you onto the end table by the door, the metalhead hastily tugged down your pants and panties while Steve came up beside you to lift off your shirt and toss away your bra.

Eddie’s fingers dug into your thighs as he opened your legs wide and kneeled in front of you, making you whimper when he shoved his face into your cunt.

“Wa-Wait. I’ve—fuck—I’ve never done anything s-sexual before.”

A heavy growl emitted from both men as the long-haired boy sucked and flicked his tongue along your clit while Steve’s lips attached to your neck. Moving his friend out of the way, he lifted you in his arms and carried you to the couch.

You watched with wide, lust blown eyes as Steve pushed his shorts down enough to free his cock, spit in his hand, and stroked it along his length.

“St-Steve, you’re so big. It won’t fit.”

His honey brown eyes met your own and it was almost like for a moment he had forgotten it was your legs he was between. Tenderly, he leaned forward to kiss your lips.

“It will, honey. I promise. I’ll go slow, ok? Unless…do you want me to stop? I just…you are the only one to care about us. I love you so much, Y/N. Let us make it up to you.”

Your gaze momentarily shifted to Eddie who was looking at you with the same gentleness that you saw when you first met him all those years ago. Licking your lips, you kiss him again before shaking your head.

“Just…go slow…and keep talking to me…please.”

Your arms clung to his neck when you felt the head of his cock line up with your entrance. Your breath caught in your throat as he began pushing in and on instinct you tried to push him away from you.

“No, no, baby. You’re ok. E-Eddie, fuck, can you—”

Eddie quickly came up to your side and held you still with his hands as Steve pushed another inch into your hole.

“God fucking damn it, you’re so fucking tight.”

“Are you ok, sweetheart?”, the other boy whispered in your ear.

“Hurts.”

“I know, baby. It’ll feel good soon. I promise.” His lips comforted you as he kissed your cheek and your head arched back as the other boy slide further into your body. Eddie licked his fingers and reached between your bodies to rub slow circles into your bundle of nerves as Steve kept going.

“Fuck, Eddie!”, you screamed causing the boy inside you to grunt when your pussy clenched around him.

“Y-You like that, honey? You like Eddie’s fingers on your clit. Fuck, you’re doing so good, Y/N. I’m almost all the way in.”

“Steve…you’re so big…”

His cock twitched at your words and you groaned as the pain began to slowly dull. When his hips connected with yours, your eyes rolled back as his length grazed against that sensitive spot inside of you, you didn’t even know existed.

Leaning on to his knees, his palms held your calves as he pulled himself almost all the way out before roughly thrusting back in.

“Steve!”

“Fuck, Y/N. Keep shouting my name like that, baby.”

Eddie’s hand petted your head, as the other boy set a steady pace.

“You’re doing so well, pretty girl. You look so beautiful like this. You deserve to feel good to. Does it still hurt?” He smiled when you shook your head. “How does it feel?”

“G-Good.”

“Yeah? Tell him, sweetheart.”

As your eyes scanned over Steve you couldn’t help but marvel at him as you view him through this new filter. Usually, you only saw him as a friend. You never really thought about his gorgeous eyes or perfect lips. The way his broad hairy chest looked so sexy glistening with sweat. You never noticed that one lock of hair that fell just so as his head tilted forward or how low and gravelly his voice was when he was turned on.

“You feel so good, Steve.”

“Oh come on, Y/N. Tell him how you really feel. It’s just us.”

The boy tilted forward, taking one of your nipples in his mouth and you moaned as your fingers tangled in Steve’s hair.

“F-Fuck… your cock feels so fucking good. I-I can feel you in my stomach.”

His lips trailed up your chest to your neck and your eyes fluttered shut as you turned your head to the sound of his voice in your ear.

“I feel good, baby? Fuck, Y/N. I’ve—I’ve never had a pussy that felt this amazing before. You were made for us, honey.”

“Steve, I… I feel… Something’s happening.” Your arms circle tightly around him as he thrusts into harder and faster. “Steve!”

“That’s it, pretty girl. Oh my god. Cum all over my cock!” You screamed his name as an intense, pleasurable feeling you had never felt before washed over you. “Goddamn it.”, he grunted as he quickly pulled himself out of your quivering entrance and you watch with heavy eyes as he stroked his length over you, releasing his seed on your belly.

Lost in a haze of bliss, you barely felt both boys switch places and Eddie flip you over positioning your ass in the air. When his tongue licked a long strip up your folds, however, you gasped as your body shuddered against the couch.

“So sensitive. I like that. Jesus, sweetheart, you taste so sweet. Are you ready for me?” When you don’t answer, his chest presses against your back as his fingers move your hair to the side. “Are you ready for me, Y/N, or did you want to stop? We can stop if you want to, baby girl. We’ll still love you.”

Craning you neck slightly, you able to meet those beautiful chocolate eyes. You had never noticed how intense they were especially when they were full of care like they were now. You never noticed how kissable Eddie’s lips were or how seductive they looked when they pulled back into a smirk. It never occurred to you how much bigger his gorgeous hands actually were compared to yours as he balanced himself so he wouldn’t crush you as he whispered in your ear.

“You both love me?”

Your question threw them both off guard.

“Of course, we do. There’s no one else in the world like you.”

“You helped make us who we are, Y/N.”

Steve’s words hit you like a train. You just found a trashcan full of liquor he had been hiding from you. They were both utilizing drugs and alcohol to a degree that was beginning to become concerning. Maybe…maybe they’d be worse if it wasn’t for you. Maybe you could help them get better and heal so they wouldn’t need to turn to that stuff.

“I love you to. I’m ready, Eddie.”

You both groaned as he ran his mushroom tip between your puffy lips, collecting your slick before he gradually began guiding himself inside of you. Your back arches up, pushing against his chest as he stretches you open. It didn’t hurt as bad as with Steve but Eddie was thick and it still felt like you were being ripped in half.

“G-God, Y/N. Steve was right…how can you still be this tight?”

His arms wrapped around your body as he began pounding into you. In this position, you were feeling all new pleasurable sensations that had your toes curling as he grunted into your ear.

“Do—mmm—do I feel good to, sweetheart?”

“Y-yes.”

“Keep talking to me, Y/N. The way you did with him. Really let go, babe.”

“Your cock…feels so good…Eddie. You’re so…deep.”

Lifting himself onto his knees, he yanked you up with him, the sound of skin slapping echoing through the house.

“K-Keep going.”

“I can’t. Fuck. I’m…”

“Yes, you can. I can feel your pussy squeezing me. Beg me, baby. Beg me to make you cum like he did.” When you didn’t answer him again, he placed his fingers on your clit, moving them so fast as he matched his own rhythm.

“Eddie! Oh my…Please! Make me cum. I want to cum again! Please…”

The metalhead pushed your face down into the sofa as he did what you asked, slamming is cock into you till the coil snapped and you shouted his name as you came. He soon followed, moaning obscenities as he pulled out and came on the meat of your ass.

Unsure of what happens next, you remained frozen in that position as you listened to Eddie’s heavy pants. You were a complete mess, naked, hair frayed, and everyone including your own arousals dripping from your body.

“Whoa! Hey, it’s ok. I’m just picking you up to take you upstairs so we can get you clean.”, Steve explained when he felt you flinch.

You sighed exhaustedly as he lifted you up and you clung your arms around his neck. Eddie ran ahead and as soon as you both entered the bathroom your bath was ready. Sitting there quietly, you starred off into the tile in front of you as they ran a washcloth along your skin.

“Y/N?” The metalhead reached for your chin and gently turned you to face them both. “Are you alright? We didn’t hurt you or anything, right?”

When you shook your head, they exchanged a glance.

“What are you thinking about, honey?”

“Why? Why now? You two have had so many other girls in your life—”

“None like you.”, Steve interrupted. “I wasn’t lying, Y/N. I love you. My dad doesn’t give a fuck about me, my mother is never here, the girls at school just want me because I’m ‘popular’.”, he rolls his eyes. “You’ve never wanted or expected anything out of me. You treat me like I’m not fucking worthless.”

“Because you’re not, Steve.”

“When my mom died, I thought I’d never be happy again. Then I met you guys. Baby, I love you to. Even with Wayne sometimes I feel like I’m burdening him.”

“You’re not, Eddie. He loves you.”

“I know but I get what Steve is saying. We hear all this bullshit enough and it just sinks in you know? But with you…”

“We’ll still be your best friends, Y/N, even if you don’t want us like that.”

“I didn’t say that.”, you smirk as both their gazes shift towards you. “I would like to be wined and dined though.”

“You wanna go out on a date?”

“Yeah. Maybe we can check out that new Star Wars movie and then—”

“We can take you to dinner.”, Eddie beams. “Treat you like a princess.”

############

1983

“Wow, Steven, you suck at this.”, Eddie teases as you giggle from the side while you both watch Steve try to shoot one of the balls on the pool table into the corner pocket.

“Well shit, Edward. Do you wanna wrap your arms around me like you do with Y/N and teach me to be better.”, the pretty boy slurred as his cue missed the ball entirely. “Fuck.”

The metalhead extended out his arms toward him as he began to sing.

“Love lift us up where we belong.”

“Don’t you touch me.”, he laughs as they both flash each other a toothy grin.

“Come on, princess. Show him what I taught you.”

Playfully swaying your hips as you saunter over, your eyes flick to them as you line up your shot. Steve tosses back the liquid in his flask and Eddie lights his fourth cigarette in a row. He’s getting antsy which means soon, he’ll excuse himself to the bathroom where he’ll snort his powder and come back with half lidded, glassy eyes.

You savored small moments like this where you could. Where you three were having fun and they weren’t totally clouded over by their vices. Tonight was a regular date night and you were so happy that they didn’t seem to be in a bad mood. You always knew how ever it wouldn’t take much for that spark to ignite though.

Beaming at them, they clap for you obnoxiously loud as you make your shot.

“That’s our girl!”

“Shut the fuck up, freaks!”, Jason Carver hollers from the corner of the bar.

“Go to hell, Jason!”, you shout.

The jocks cackle at your comment as Andrew’s eyes rake across your body.

“Little girl has a mouth on her. Maybe we can show her how to use it.”

Eddie stomped towards them before you could stop him.

“Say that a little louder, asshole. I don’t think I heard you correctly. That ‘little girl’ is my best friend and you willshow her fucking respect!”

“Go to hell, Munson.”

“HEY! Knock it off or I’ll kick you all out!”, the owner shouted as he glared where you guys were standing.

“Come on, Ed. Let’s get out of here.”, you try and sooth him in a calm voice. “Please.”

Angrily turning away, he barrels out the door as you run after him.

“Eddie, it’s ok.”

He ignores you as he opens his van door, pops open the glove box, and pulls out the little glass vile of his drug. You watch with helpless eyes as he pours some on the edge of his hand near his thumb and snorts the contents.

“That’s not going to help anyone.”, you growl.

“Yeah, well, no one fucking asked you. Let me ask you something. Why did you want me to stop? Huh? Do you want to fuck Jason and his stupid friends?”

“Have you lost your fucking mind? Of course, I don’t.”

“Pfft, please. Little whore like you can’t help herself.”

“Fuck you, Eddie.”

As you turn and try to walk away, he grabs your arm and tries to keep you from leaving.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

“I’d rather walk than deal with this bullshit.”

“Guys…”, Steve slurs as he appears beside you. “Can we do this later? I’m fucking exhausted.”

***

Driving his van for them, you all went back to Steve’s house and let them talk you into staying over. Around two in the morning, yelling startled you awake causing you to panic when you realized Steve wasn’t beside you.

“Eddie.”, you murmured forcefully as you shook him. “Eddie!”

“Jesus H Christ, WHAT?!”

“Something is happening downstairs. I think Steve needs our help.”

“He’ll be fine. Just shut the fuck up and go back to bed.”, he grumbled as he rolled over.

Ignoring him completely, you quietly tiptoed out of the bedroom and leaned against the railing as you listened to Mr. Harrington screaming at his son.

“This is a $500 dollar bottle of bourbon, Steven! I save it for important clients not my idiot kid and his friends.”

“For the thousandth time, I didn’t drink it!”

“Oh, so all of my alcohol just disappears then. Even though you, the freak, and that whore are here a majority of the time alone.”

“Don’t call her that.”, Steve grunted through gritted teeth.

His dad stepped forward and smacked him hard across the face.

“Don’t talk to me in that tone of voice.”

Running down the stairs, you put yourself between them.

“Leave him alone! He’s not drinking what’s yours.”

“Everything in this house fucking is mine, little girl. I paid for it with my hard-earned money. What the fuck has he done? Nothing and that’s all he will ever be. The sooner you figure that out the better.” Mr. Harrington raises his finger and points to his son. “You owe me $500 dollars or I swear to God, Steven.”

With that his dad furiously left the house, slamming the front door for emphasis. Quickly facing him, you cup his cheeks in your hands, and check him over.

“Are you alright, baby?”

“Why the fuck did you do that, Y/N?”, he asks in a sharp tone. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Marching towards the kitchen, he opens cabinets till he finally finds a bottle of whiskey that actually still has some liquid within it. You glared at him as he knocked it back, panting when he finally removed his lips from the glass.

“You both promised me you would slow down on stuff like this.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t answer to you, honey. If you don’t like it, you can fucking leave.”

“Maybe, Andrew is still at The Hideout. He can give you a bed for the night.”, Eddie sneered as he rounded the corner and leaned in the doorway.

“Fuck you both. I’m fucking done.”, you spat. “You want me to leave? You got it.”

You headed towards his room, throwing off his clothes so you can put on your own and head home. You knew better. You knew you should have just left but part of you was hoping they’d beg you to stay, groveling at your feet as they told you they loved you. You wanted them to fight for you…show you that they needed you as much as you felt like you needed them.

And they would…in their own inebriated way…

“Why the fuck are you still here?! I thought you were leaving?!”, Eddie shouted when he found you. Grabbing your pants from the floor, he threw them down to the first floor with your shoes and socks. “Get a move on, baby!”

Ignoring him, you banged your feet loudly down the stairs but as you bent down to grab your jeans, Steve came up behind you and captured your wrist turning you to face him.

“You made things worse by butting in.”

“No, Steve, you make things worse by continuing to drink. Why?! Why do you two do this?”

The man rolls his eyes as he takes a swig from the bottle in his hand.

“Please. Like you fucking care. You’re going to break our hearts just like they did. May as well just leave now, honey, and leave us in peace to destroy ourselves. It’s what Eddie and I are good at, right bud?”

Eddie’s only response was a deep inhale that you knew was his him snorting his blow.

Shaking your head, you turn to leave but he doesn’t release you from his hold.

“I thought you said I could leave, Steve. That’s what you want right? To fulfill your own prophesy of me abandoning you.” You try to yank your arm back but he just tugs you close to his chest, glaring down at you with angry eyes. “It’s not like I’ve been by your sides and both your best friend since we were little kids.”

Sarcastically, you laugh knowing what you say next will rile him up but you don’t care. In this moment, you were in so much pain after the way they spoke to you. You were fully prepared to give them a taste of their own medicine.

“Your dad was right. You are nothing.”

In one swift motion, he released your wrist and took hold of your hair, leading you to the couch where he bent you over the arm.

“I’m nothing, huh? HUH?!”, Steve shouted near your ear as he leaned over your back. “Say it again, little girl! Come on. Let me hear it!”

“You’re nothing, Steve Harrington! I thought you wanted me to fucking leave! I’m going to abandon you anyway, RIGHT?!”

His palm came down hard on your behind, making you yelp before he moved the cotton blocking your core and abruptly pushed two of his long, thick fingers into your sex.

“You’re not going fucking anywhere tonight, babe. Not until we’re done with you.” You groan as he curls his fingers inside you and spanks you again. “You always talk back but you’re still so fucking wet for us, aren’t you? AREN’T YOU?!”, he yells as he hits you again.

“YES!”

“Fuck, just listen to that pussy, Munson.” The sound of your slick fills the room as he thrusts his fingers at a faster pace. “Fucking whore is always ready.”

“Probably why she can’t help but eye fuck this entire town.”, Eddie condescends as he comes around to sit on the couch in front of you.

“Please…”, you moan as the coil tightens in your stomach.

“Please.”, he mocks making you growl before his fingers roughly pinch your cheeks. “Control the fucking attitude, Y/N. Since we’re nothing and we do nothing for you, might as well use you one last time and I’ll be damned if you’re going to look at me like that.”

Steve spanks you again causing you to whimper as your pussy clenches around his fingers and you cum hard around them. After literally ripping off your panties and Eddie tugging off your shirt, the other boy loops his arm around your waist, carrying you around the front of the sofa, and tossing you on it. You wince as you fall a little harder than you should of making both boys freeze. They don’t genuinely want to hurt you; they never have. You know what they’re doing right now is an outlet especially for Steve after what happened with his dad. They needed to feel in control and so did you. You desperately needed to feel like you could reign them in and keep their vices in check so it didn’t get worse.

If they needed to use you so they didn’t use themselves, so be it.

Your eyes flick between theirs before a slow, cool laugh leaves your lips.

“Oh, come on, boys. Don’t pretend like you fucking care now. I’m a whore right, Ed? Steve? Come on, baby.” You coo in a sarcastic tone as you push up on your knees and wrap your arms around the man’s neck. “Prove to me you’re not nothing. Show me what a real Harrington man is.”

With newfound motivation, he manhandled you till you were on your hands and knees facing Eddie’s lap. You mewled, biting your lip at the feeling of Steve’s spit hitting your cunt before he pushed down his shorts enough to free his cock and roughly thrust it into your entrance.

Ringed fingers tangled in your hair, tugging you back till you were looking at the metalhead’s angry face.

“You’re going to suck my cock, little girl, and you’re going to take all of it. No whining or complaining. Sluts do what they’re told.”

You nodded with heavy eyes as the man behind you abused that sensitive spot inside you over and over till your toes were curling. Shimming out of his boxers without letting you go; his dick sprang free and you wasted no time taking him into your mouth.

Eddie groaned as you did what you were told, his tip hitting the back of your throat as you drooled around him. Every time you moaned at Steve’s thrusts, his fingers gripped you tighter as his eyes fluttered shut.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it. At least that bratty mouth is good for something. Shit.”

Looping his arm around you, Steve’s hand reached between your legs and began rubbing fast circles into your clit that had you screaming around Eddie as you pushed back against his hand.

“Fuck, Steve!”

“Yeah. That’s the fucking spot. I know. No one knows you better than us, little girl. Cum. Cum hard on my cock, Y/N!”, he demands as he spanks you with his other palm.

As the ball drops, you moan his name as your pussy quivers around him.

“Fuck. That’s it. Good girl. Good fucking girl.”, Steve grunts as he pounds into you chasing his high.

Clinging to your hair, Eddie holds you still as he thrusts up into your mouth and fucks your face as you gag.

“There you go, you little whore. Choke on my dick.”

Steve’s rhythm falters and he grunts as he releases his spend roughly into your cunt. As he fills you up, the metalhead pushes you lower onto his lap and growls loudly as your throat constricts around him. They both pull out of you at the same time and Eddie forcefully tugs you onto his lap facing him.

Your jaw falls open as he grips your waist and brings your down onto his cock, your hands clinging to his shoulders as he guides your movements.

“Harder, Y/N! Fucking make me believe that you fucking care!”

As you wrap your arms around him for leverage, you bounce faster and harder on his lap, throwing your head back as you moan loudly.

“E-Eddie, please!”

“Fuck.”, he grunts, lifting you into the air without pulling out, sitting you on the sofa while his palm grips the back as he takes over thrusting into you. “God, you feel so fucking good. You’re ours, little girl. This pussy belongs to us.”

When all you do is mewl and nod, his fingers take hold of your jaw, and force you to meet his intense gaze.

“Say it, Y/N. So we know you fucking understand.”

“I-I…my pussy be-belongs to you. Fuck.”

“Who do you belong to?”

“You two.”

“WHO?!”, he snarls as he rolls his hips hard.

“EDDIE AND STEVE! Fuck, I’m gonna—”

The metalhead’s ringed fingers grab your throat and you whimper as you cum again. Eddie’s grip tightens and you feel your air slightly cut off. Right as your panicked eyes find Steve’s, the other boy paints your walls as he fucks it deep into your core.

Steve reaches over and tugs at his friend’s wrist, signaling for him to release you which he does. His chocolate eyes scan you over with worry, when he hears you cough as you catch your breath.

“I…I…shit. Y/N, are you…okay?”

When you don’t answer, they swiftly kick into action as Steve lifts you into his arms and carries you to his bathroom where he gets the tub ready. Eddie appears next to you with a bottle of water but as he offers it to you, you turn away.

“Sweetheart, you have to drink something.”

“Like either of you care.”

“Honey, of course we care.”

“DON’T! Don’t you honey and sweetheart me! I’m a whore who wants to fuck the entire town, right?! I’m butting into your business and making things worse, right?! I don’t love you and you don’t care if I leave, RIGHT?!” Pushing Steve away, you wince as you lower yourself in the warm water and bring your knees to your chin. “What do I have to do to prove to you that I only want you two? That I’m not going anywhere? Why does it have to be this way?”

They hang their heads as they silently clean you and you allow it. After drying you off and finding you a new pair of clothes to wear, you continue to ignore them as you climb into Steve’s bed and close your eyes. Both boys do the same, placing themselves on either side of you as Eddie presses himself against your back looping his arm around you and pulling you to him while Steve tenderly caressed your face.

“We’re sorry, baby.”, he whispers. “You deserve so much more than this. We’re fucking assholes.”

Steve watched your bottom lip quiver as Eddie held you tighter to his chest and he pressed his face into your shoulder as he began to quietly cry.

“I’m sorry, princess. I didn’t mean to grab you so hard. I love you. You’re not a whore. You’re our perfect angel. We can be better, Y/N.”

###########

“Hey, Y/N. Are you alright? You look tired.”

“Oh, thanks Glen. You know I’m trying this new routine—”

“Ok, ok, I get it. That was a little rude.”, he laughs. “You know, you always look beautiful.”

You softly smile as you turn towards your locker. These were the moments you wish you could tell people that you, Eddie, and Steve were more than best friends. Glen was a nice guy but you were in love with someone else. You knew it bothered them (especially Eddie) when men hit on you and it equally upset you when girls would do the same with them.

They knew better though just like you. You knew when Steve stumbled into a room with a girl on his heels they were probably just talking. Whenever he would call you over at 2am sobbing about something you couldn’t understand under his slurred words, you were positive that the perfume you were smelling was most likely yours from days ago when you spent the night.

They made sure you never had to worry about things like that…

As you opened your locker a note tumbled into your hand.

“Hey pretty girl,

We just wanted to say we love you so much and miss you.

Can’t wait to see you later tonight.

You deserve the world, angel.

-Steve X Eddie”

“Are you, um, going to the party tonight?”

“Yeah.”, you answer him as you hold the note to your chest. “Steve is probably going to pick me and Eddie up.”

“Oh. Ok…I thought, maybe, you’d want to ride with me.”

“Glen…I…thank you but I’m just not…”

“Hey. No worries.”, he grins. “I’ll still be your friend and think you’re cool.”

***

“Geez, this fucking house is insane. How many people live here?”, Eddie asks as he takes a sip of the “punch” in his cup.

“I think 3 but…”, you laugh as you wonder around with them.

“Pfft. Jamie’s parents and herself makes three people who are never home.” Steve picks up a figurine and shows it to you with confusion before putting it back. “I will never understand why rich people buy these massive houses but are never in them. Our house isn’t that big but it’s just me or the three of us 99% of the time.”

“Ok, got it. When we move in together no big house.”, you giggle causing him to stick out his tongue at you.

“That’s too bad. When I became a rockstar I was going to buy us a HUGE mansion.”, the metalhead muses as he glances up another spiral staircase that was blocked off. After looking around, he tugs down the ribbon, and grabs your hand to guide you up to the next floor.

“Hm, baby. This reminds me of The Shining.”, you whine.

Eddie chuckles as he turns around and wiggles his index finger in front of your face.

“Redrum!”

“Stop!”

Continuing to laugh, he pulls you to his side as you wrap your arms around his waist. You loved these moments; the moments where they seemed like their old selves before things had gotten worse. It gave you hope that you could save them; that you could bring the Eddie and Steve you first met on those swings back to you.

“Hey guys. Come look at this here.”, Steve calls as he opens a random door. “This must be her parent’s room.”

As he stared at the massive sized bed with a canopy, you ventured into the bathroom while Eddie looked around the closet.

“Jesus Christ, this is bigger than our fucking trailer.”, he scoffs as he flashes Steve who followed him in some of the clothes. “If you need a bench in your closet, maybe the closet it too big, yeah?”

The other man took a swig from his flask as his eyes scanned everything around him.

“I don’t think I’ll every be rich enough to give her this.”, he mumbles causing the metalhead to abruptly turn his way.

“Don’t say that, Harrington. Just because your dad is a douchebag doesn’t mean you won’t own a company one day. It doesn’t have to be his.”

“Pfft, said the rockstar.”

“Ha! Yeah. That’s if I can get my fingers to do what I want them to do.”, Eddie sighs as he begins digging his is pockets, finding his little vile. “Or my brain for that matter.”

“Maybe…maybe we really should slow down, ya know?”, Steve whispers.

“It’s not that serious, Steven.”

“You almost choked her out.”

“And you fuck other cheerleaders. Do you really want to play that game right now?”, Eddie hisses.

“Shhh! I don’t…I don’t mean to. We go somewhere and then I wake up the next morning…”

“Yeah, tell her that.”

“I love her.”, Steve growls. “I don’t want to hurt her.”

“Well, I love her to.”, he sighs before patting his friend’s shoulder. “Everything’s fine, man. Trust me.”

The sound of you jumping onto the bed brings them back into reality as they exit the closet and find you sprawled out with a wide smile on your face. Crawling in beside you, the three of you lay there in comfortable silence as you listen to them breathe.

“I love you both…for who you are…I hope you know that.” You feel their eyes shift towards you as you continue. “No matter what. It’s always been just us and I’m always going to be here for you. I don’t care if we have a house like this or… a tiny trailer.”

“We’re not going to let you live your life in a tiny trailer, sweetheart. I don’t care what I have to do but that’s never going to be your reality.”

“Whatever WE have to do.”, Steve clarified. “We’re always going to be there for you, honey. You put up with a lot when it comes to us. Soon it will all be worth it.”

“Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t we ditch this party, go back to my place, and watch some spooky movies that will make Harrington pee his pants?”

Nodding, you giggle as Steve rolls his eyes. After running down the stairs, a face you recognized abruptly stopped you to say hello.

“Hi Glen. I’m actually about to leave!”

“Really? I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” His nervous eyes scan Steve’s stumbling frame as Eddie bounces on his heels waiting for you. “You’re leaving with them?”

“Yeah of course. We’re going to go hang out at Eddie’s trailer.”

“You’re driving right? Or, maybe, even I can.”

“Oh, um…” Your own gaze shifts towards them, taking note at the longer you take the more annoyed their eyes seem to become. “His place isn’t that fair. It’s not a big deal. I appreciate the thought though.”, you smile as you give him a quick hug.

Before you can turn away, Glen holds you in his grasp.

“Don’t go with them, Y/N. Please.”

Holding your smile, you pull away and nod your head, slightly assuring him that everything would be alright.

“What did he want?”

“Just to say hello. We have a couple of classes together and we help each other sometimes.” As you three search for Steve’s BMW, you anxiously watch him fumble with his keys. “Stevie, baby, maybe you should let me drive.”

“Pfft, I can drive, honey. I’m barely even drunk.”

Eddie’s arms wrap around you from behind as he tenderly kisses the nook between your neck and shoulder. “Come on, princess. You can sit in the back with me.”

***

Steve frustratingly tries to yank at the car door but it won’t budge.

“Steve…”, Eddie calls to his friend as the sirens begin to wail in the distance.

“I can’t…the door…” Desperately, he falls to his knees and tries to reach for your hand through the shattered window as you dangled upside down from where you were still buckled in. “I can’t reach her…Y/N…w-wake up.”

“S-S-Steve.” The sound of sirens got louder as the metalhead panicked going into sensory overload. The sirens, Steve grunting as he tried different ways to get to you, the smell of metal and blood. “STEVEN! We need to go. NOW!”

“Eddie, we can’t just leave her here!”

The long-haired boy tugged at his friend’s sweater, dragging him to his feet.

“Yeah? And you’ll never see her again if you get arrested for drunk driving and me for possession. She’ll be fine. They’re almost here. They can get her out!”

Steve had his own internal battle pausing only for a second when he heard the sound of you groan.

“I-I-I…FUCK!”

Both boys run and disappear just as Hopper’s police car skids onto the scene.

***

“Hey, Y/N. This feels like a stupid question but how are you feeling?”, the police chief asks as he takes a seat beside your hospital bed. It had been almost two weeks since the accident and people could barely get anything out of you.

Your parents had been by your side the entire time, holding your hand, and caressing your hair as you cried through every painful process the doctors put you through. Your mom and Hopper exchange a worried glance as you ignore the question, continuing to stare at the phone by your bed.

“I’m not going to bug you too much but I was hoping to get some more details about what happened. We know you weren’t driving because we found you buckled in the backseat.”

Again, no response.

“We, uh, got a tip that you and some friends left a party at the same time. Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington? The car in the accident is also Mr. Harrington’s.” Your eyes start to tear up and you quickly suffocate the notion by closing your eyes. “Um, Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N, may I have a moment alone with Y/N?”

After your parent’s leave, Hopper comes to sit on the opposite end of the room directly in front of you, his gaze soft as he scans you over.

“Y/N, you’re not in trouble. I know you didn’t cause this. I also know that you’re very loyal to your friends but, honey, you’re not helping either of them if they don’t face the consequences for what they do.” Your eyes open finally meeting his and he doesn’t faulter as he continues. “No one is in trouble here. I just want to help them and you. I also want to make sure no one else gets hurt.”

Shifting you gaze towards the phone again, a montage of everything they had been through ran through your mind. Eddie had lost his mom and his dad was abusive before going in. After moving in with Wayne, things got better at home but not at school or in Hawkins. People bullied him relentlessly making him feel like he was a freak who would never be anything but.

Steve had basically raised himself being alone most of his childhood. His asshole father and absent mother were always away on business or even pleasure leaving him behind. When they were home, his dad said terrible things to him and broke him down constantly telling him he was worthless. While the boy was popular school, adults constantly seemed to underestimate him adding to his insecurity.

They didn’t need prison, they needed you. It was just you and them against the world. Yeah, they hadn’t called yet but they would. They would give you a rational reason for leaving you behind and comfort you, telling you everything would be ok. Then things could go back to how they used to be or even better. Maybe this accident would wake them up to the damage their vices can do…

“I don’t remember who was driving. I just remember something darting into the road and then waking up here.”, you whisper.

The police chief sighs as he nods. He can’t force you to say what you need to say. If that’s the story you want to stick with, he’ll write his report and give it to the insurance companies.

“I see. Ok, Y/N. Thank you for your candor and I hope…I hope you feel better. I’m always here if you need to talk.”

Softly smiling, you turn your attention back to the phone as you continue to wait.

They’ll call or come by. They love me. We need each other… I know it.

#############

111 notes · View notes

bigheadbrooke-9 · 6 months ago

Text

______________☆______________

I sigh and knocked on Eddies door this was one of my proper dates and it’s always ruined by a fucking jackass.

The door opened and I saw Eddie hair pulled back and a rag on his shoulder and you walked in and smell something cooking I walked to the kitchen and sat on the island.

He was putting the eggs away

“ why are men like this ” I said putting my hands on my face

“ Boys ” he corrected “ what happened “ he said cleaning the island off.

“ literally just bragging about his dick game and I was so uncomfortable because I’m not sleeping with you on first date when you didn’t pay even then you’re still aren’t touching me, all he was talking about didn’t even know my last name, idiots i swear ” I said taking my jacket off.

“ so what happened after, did he try anything ” Eddie said walking over to the dishes to wash them I got up and went to counter and sat down next to the sink

“ he asked me did I wanna go his place I said no and he just dropped me off ” i said sighing

“ he just wanted sex, Thats honestly so fucking annoying, but you said you’ve had sex before how was that ” he said putting the clean white plate on the drying rack

“ it was so horrible, I didn’t even finish no fucking after care no fore play it was soooo bad, he just left after that, might aswell say I’m a virgin. Then he had the fucking to ask again, I said hell no and hung up ” I said looking at Eddie as he washed his hands after touching the dishes

“ was there some pleasure at least? “ he said raising one of his eyebrows

“ not really probably moaned about twice but hardly anything ” I said crossing my legs

“ no head?” He asked I rolled my eyes

“ he said that wasn’t into that type of shit, and I just lost it after that” Eddie crossed his arms the stove beeps and walked over to it and you see him taking brownies out

“ these normal? ” I said he put it on a mat

“ yea no weed ” he said grabbing 2 plates and then some forks

“ sweetheart, you have never been given head? “ he said letting the brownies cool

“ sounds fun but you know you know double standards giving a guy head is normal but not a women, fucking idiots ”

Once the brownies cooled down we sat down in the living room and started watching a kids movie

Eddie started rolling up

“ you got a lighter doll? “ he said trying to find one

I got up and took it out of my back pocket

“ give my shit back, that’s my favorite one “ I said eating my brownies they were delicious

He started smoking he low ponytail sitting on his neck and his brown big eyes turning a light red

" was that all that happened??” He asked taking a long puff

“ yeah, I should have told him to lose my number but I didn’t want to be mean ” I said finishing my Brownies

“ where do you meet these hornballs, they should be kissing your feet for coming anyway “ he said laughing taking another hit he passed it to me

I was stressed so I took a good long hit

I took my shoes off and sat back, and took a good breath

“ do you think head would be good for me, I don’t think it’s gonna satisfy me ” I said being said that I couldn’t finish

“ you’ll be VERY SATISFIED , getting head is top tier especially when you know what the hell you’re doing ” he said playing with is rings

Eddie and some very nice hands in your opinion, the rings made it so much better

“ babe you’re staring, the weed is hitting “ he said putting the blunt out

“ it is but not in the way you think ” I said letting my head hit the couch

He picked the plates up and took them to the kitchen and them put is weed away

“ horny?” He asked putting the tray back on the table

“ you keep talking about head am i not supposed to be horny ” I said laughing

“ I can help you if you wanna “ he said

I laughed because I thought he was joking but when I didn’t hear laughing I stopped

“ you wanna give me head ? “ i asked

“ who wouldn’t you are gorgeous, cmon sweetheart if you don’t like I’ll stop “ he said sitting next to me

I thought about I’m high and horny why not ?

I nodded

Next thing you know we are kissing like we are the last people on earth

I’m on his lap, his left hand on the nape of my neck and right on my hip

His hand grabbing the back of my neck making me kiss him harder, he was very gentle at first now his is getting a bit eager.

I was really horny if I was making out with my best friend

He slowing laid you down on the couch

“ are you sure sweetheart? ” he asked hand on my belt buckle

I nodded and starting taking my pants off slowing just in case i changed my mind

He took them off and you started to feel a little insecure because of how much he is staring at me

“ earth to Eddie “ I said he looked up

“ how are this wet I’ve barely down anything “

He said trying to open your legs

“ you don’t really have to do anything, just happened “ i said

He winked and opened my legs looking at my light pink underwear, with a small wet patch in the middle

He started to take the off and tapped my hips so I could lift my ass up to get the underwear off

“ sweetheart, holy shit how are you this wet? ” he said placing his hand on your waist you were looking at it not answering his question

“My hands? Hm? “ he asked you nodded and he takes his middle finger running it from the clit to my hole and I shifted a bit

He lifted my leg and put over his shoulder

“ ready doll?” He asked looking at your pussy then at you

“ yes i am “ i said putting a pillow under my head

He lowered his head and his tongue took a long stride and that felt so amazing you let out whimper

He then put his tongue in your hole I let a moan out

He just started going crazy putting both of your legs on his shoulder going deep nothing that you could reach.

He was licking slurping and then he put 2 fingers in I jerked I moaned loud, he was going fast and you squirted he sat up a little

Rubbing your clit as finger fucking you knuckles deep he was going fast

“ F-Fuckkkk, Eddie slow down ” you sat up when you felt you stomach twist and turn he got back down on his knees and continued to tongue fuck you

“ are you close?” He asked

“ i all ready came twice ”

THANK YOU FOR READING

#eddie munson #x reader #smut #first post #cute

22 notes · View notes

hannahssimblr · 1 year ago

Text

note: you don't need to know how to pronounce Garda Síochána - just know it's what we call our police force in Ireland. Any mention of garda/guards is in reference to the cops. Jude is saying the Síochána bit (the full name) to be funny and emphasise the fact that they are entirely unarmed. If you do want to know how to pronounce it then here is someone saying it right.

We are greeted at the doctor’s waiting room by two familiar faces. Shane and Joe look up when we enter, and the biggest, dopiest smile I’ve ever seen spreads over Joe’s face. “What’s up guys! You got ticks too?”

“Um, yeah.”

He fist bumps me, then Jen, “Hell yeah! Tick friends. Four thicks with ticks. We should get that tattooed.”

“Good idea,” I slump into a creaky seat and immediately start fidgeting with a ballpoint pen on the table. While the others chat to one another I begin to draw random shapes onto the corner of a magazine.

“So we lose four tents,” Shane is saying, “And we all get ticks. Would ye say that’s the biggest failure of all time?”

“We can go back and get the tents though, lad,” Joe says, “Sure I can remember where we were and all.”

“They’re in the dump by now for sure,” Jen says, “So annoying because I actually really liked that tent, and the sleeping bags too. Like, we lost a bloody fortune worth of stuff that we could have used to go to a music festival or something.”

A fat pigeon lands on the windowsill and I quickly sketch it out, not realistically, but a stupid cartoon version who is trying to swallow an entire loaf of white sliced pan in one gulp. I cock my head. It’s actually a bit grotesque. Maybe I should scribble it out.

“Man, I’m just glad that Jude made it out of there alive,” Joe says, “We didn’t know if you were going to make it.”

“What, like, do you think I was going to get shot to death by the Garda Síochána?”

“No, I dunno, like.”

“Thanks for abandoning me, by the way.”

“Oh stop it Jude,” Jen punches my arm, which throws my line off, “He’s in a huff because we saved ourselves instead of coming to find him, but anyone would have done the same.”

“Well you were fairly busy!” Joe protests, “Off with Clóda.” I’m not looking at him, but I can practically hear the exotic wiggle of his eyebrows, “C’mere, man, did you ride her?”

I glance quickly at Shane who is staring at the floor, “Nah, I didn’t.”

“What? You had the chance and you didn’t take it? You’re crazy, Jude. If that’d been me I’d have-”

I zone out as Joe, the chronic virgin, starts describing what he would have done and not done, while dimly aware that Jen is giving out to him for being disrespectful. The pigeon drawing is coming along. Maybe I’ll make this guy into a new character and put him in different scenarios. I draw a newer version of him on the next page with eyes looking in two different directions and I chuckle to myself at how stupid it looks.

“That’s a cool drawing,” Jen murmurs, peering over my shoulder, “you should bring it home and glue it into your sketchbook.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“-Oh yeah, and that reminds me,” Joe goes on, moving fluidly from his thoughts about Clóda to the next topic without so much as a pause for breath. He’s like a tap that never stops dripping. “I’ve been thinking of getting a tattoo, like an actual tattoo, you know I was joking about the Thicks with Ticks thing before, but now that I’m sixteen I’ve been like, maybe I should get one if my ma or da lets me, and like, I was thinking that Jude is really good at art and all, so it’d be cool if I got him to draw something for me that I could get tattooed on me, you know?”

I sit up wielding my biro, “Where, man?”

“Huh?”

“Where’d you want your tattoo? I’ll do a sketch for you now.”

“Oh cool, yeah, like maybe my neck, like here?” He runs a finger from his ear to his shoulder, “Like something cool, a dragon or whatever, breathing fire, and maybe with its tail curling around like that.”

“A dragon, yeah?” I lean across Jen and push his head to the side to stretch out the skin and I start drawing.

He glances at Jen after several minutes, “How’s it look?”

She keeps a straight face, “Yeah, unreal. It’s a dragon alright.”

I finish it off with a few flourishes and then Joe shows it off to Shane, “Well?”

Shane splutters.

“Is it cool?”

“C’mere give me a proper look,” he turns him all the way around and stares intently at the drawing. “Man, that is the most detailed penis I’ve ever seen.”

Jen and I cling to one another cackling.

“Even the spurts of cum, fuck sake, you’re sick,” Shane starts shaking with laughter too while Joe panics and tries to wipe it away with his hand. “Aw, are you serious? Is it just a dick?”

Shane looks again and shrieks “The veins!”

“No, you’re going to have me go into the doctor with a cumming dick on my neck?”

“You don’t like it?” I pretend to be offended and clutch my heart, “That wounds me, really.”

Jen joins in, “Yeah, he worked hard on it, how could you be so cold?”

The doctor comes to the door, “Joseph Roche?”

He stands up and gives us all the most aggressive middle fingers he can muster. “Fuckers,” he says, and follows the doctor out while we all collapse in fits of hysterical laughter.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy #someone explain to me why teenage boys (and actually adult men too) are obsessed with drawing dicks on everything #i agree it's hilarious #but please ya'll are so weird #tw:sex mention

33 notes · View notes

borntoocry · 1 year ago

Note

you and ellie are on a first date after making things official and you guys take edibles and go to the zoo, when you guys get back home you and ellie have sex for the first time and it’s really cute and awkward cause ellie is a loser AH IM BLUSHING😭😭

let me preface this by saying it's not all that. this request has taken me a very long time because 1. I was on vacation with no internet, and 2. I have lost so much motivation to write. so give this some slack. BUT, enjoy!

not proofread!

wc: 5.1K

Dates are not an activity you participate in. It might be because before today, you’ve never been asked out on one. But even with your virginity regarding any romantic aspect, dates seem embarrassing to you. A night full of awkward laughter and jokes you have to laugh at or else you’re deemed a shitty person. You have to seem interested even though you might not be. You might not even like the restaurant you’re sitting at, or the museum you’re sleepily wandering around. And if there’s a price tag on the meal, tickets, or whatever it might be, you have to paw at your purse, pockets, fake jean pockets, even though the person who asked you out is the one who has to pay.

At least that’s what dates look like in movies and television and across social media.

You try not to let that image dance across your mind when Ellie, your official girlfriend as of last week, asks you out on an official date. These past couple of days have been all about official with you two: holding hands on daily walks, posting one another on social media, sharing creative joints like crosses Ellie has never made for anyone else, and going around town kissing and hugging and being the poster adults for PDA.

You like to think that because of how you’ve been acting towards one another, this awful idea of dates won’t even exist after the date to the zoo today. How Ellie is with you—soft, overly cheesy, kind, comedic—doesn’t compare to the assholes you’ve seen ditch women in movies, or on Twitter where women have said men have made them split the check. Ellie would never do such a thing—she’d rather die than let you pay for anything while she’s with you.

You’re getting ready for the date when someone softly knocks on your door—so soft you would miss it if your room wasn’t merely a foot next to the entrance. You only have on the black bralette Ellie bought you and a pair of jeans. You pick up a tank top and rush to the door, your arm shoving itself into the right arm hole. You slightly open the door so only your forehead and eyes can be seen, and peek outside. Ellie stands there, dressed in a black Henley, a washed-out brown bomber jacket, her black jeans, and her insanely beat-up Converse.

You pull your arm out of the tank top and fully open the door, the bottom half of your face stringed into a defined smile. “Hi,” you say. Ellie doesn’t move instantly as she stares you down. She just smiles as harsh as you are—maybe even harsher—and nods. “You hungry? I have a couple snacks in the pantry if you want something before we go.”

She shakes her head and walks into the apartment, her eyes still trained on your body. You want to laugh and pull her head into your neck, ruffle her little shag with your recently painted nails, kiss her until her eyes are trained on your face and not your tits.

“Uh… No. I’m fine. Are you alright?”

You shake your head and pull her into your room by her pinky. White and pink lights is all that illuminates your room, no buggy yellow overcast that paints an odd look on your face. Ellie says she enjoys how it’s dim and bright at the same time; how euphoric it feels to sit on your bed and watch you paint your face.

You don’t really talk to one another after that, only sit in melodic silence as you continue setting your face with powder and hurry to apply your lip liner and plum lipstick. When you dust off your face and stand to pick out your clothes, Ellie digs into her bomber jacket, her face contorted into wiggly eyebrows and a poking tongue.

You stand back and place your hands on your hips, observing her doing. You open your mouth, a breathe hopping into the air before Ellie cuts you off with a… an apple fritter covered in saran wrap.

You pull a confused face and drop your hands from your hips. “Is that a—“

“It’s an edible,” she cuts you off, unwrapping it. “Are you okay with that?”

You nod as you walk up and sit beside her. You’ve known she’s sold weed in many forms—pens, carts, disposables, buds, whatever the names for them were—since you met her, but she’s never once sold edibles. You’ve known her for less than she’s sold, but you know she’s never once made oil for edibles, nor baked anything a day in her life.

Air bubbles at your lips and pops, signaling that words are also about to pop out of your mouth. But again, Ellie nicely cuts you off—as though she can read your mind.

“I made them last night. I kept getting edible-making videos on my feed and decided to give it a go. They’re for our date.”

The scent of weed coats the air and your nostrils. It takes a second for it to dim down, but once it does you can finally smell the caramelized apple, the brown sugar and overall sweetness of the baked treat.

You huff a laugh of surprise and lift a finger to your lips. “You baked this?”

Ellie shrugs. “With the help of Dina, yes.”

You nod, figuring that Ellie alone is incapable of baking anything as time consuming as apple fritters. Thanks to Dina, of course, this baked good looks and smells absolutely delicious.

“So… do we eat it now or wait?” You ask, your fingers curiously running across her thighs.

Ellie chuckles and a light blush coats her freckles. “If you’d like,” she says, then splits the fritter in half. She lifts the piece into the air and looks up at it with second thoughts. “Can you handle half?”

You look at the large half, almost instantly remembering her customers reviews: strong, ‘will hit you really hard,’ ‘I knocked out with one hit.’ Some may have been more exaggerated than others, but the vast majority claimed Ellie’s weed was strong. And if you take the entire half she offers you, you’ll be so high you end up throwing up.

You shake your head and take the piece from her. You split it in half and give her the bigger piece. “I’ll this, get dressed, and by the time we get to the zoo, I can see if I need more.”

She nods and slides the bigger piece of apple fritter from your fingers. She pops it into her mouth and chews then swallows. She looks over at you as you lick the residue off her fingers and wink. She shuts her eyes for a second and opens them as if she’s been struck over the head, dizzily reacting to your wink. Her red cheeks brighten as you stand in only your bra and jeans and walk over to your closet, where you unhook your bra and try on different shirts.

The zoo, in most occasions, is not your cup of tea. When you were a kid you’d much rather sit in the antarctic section of the path and watch the penguins bounce around and jump into their icy water. The smell of waste and excretion was light and the room was typically cold. You enjoyed sitting there and watching them until your parents rounded back the path and picked you up.

But now as you walk about with Ellie—high as hell, might you add as you took another quarter of the edible before entering—you’re enjoying all aspects of the zoo: the giraffes, gorillas, birds, every single one, and especially the penguins. The cool air that remains trapped in the room smoothes over the skin under your jacket, leaving goosebumps all over your body.

“It’s cold,” Ellie whispers against your neck. Her body is shaking although she has spent every second in this room glued to your side. “You used to love it in here?”

You chuckle. “I typically came here during the summer,” you tell her, “when most families come. We have decided to come here during the fall—which I’m not complaining about, by the way.”

“I take no offense,” she happily replies. “But… it makes sense.”

You wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her up to the window revealing all of the flopping penguins. No one is in this room, they only walk in and glance at the penguins after the cool air strangles them.

You press your free hand against the glass and a penguin turns its nonexistent neck to watch you guys. It hops down the ice block where the rest of its family lives and waddles to the edge. It flops into the water and sinks down. You laugh as it floats back up and spins.

“Oh my god,” you whisper against the glass and watch it fog up. “Is the penguin putting on a show for us or is that just in my head?”

“Mhm-mhm.”

A string of laughter falls out of Ellie’s mouth and it catches up to you, too. Soon enough, you both are in a fit of laughter. Due to the questionable amount of the edible you’ve ate in the past hour and a half along with the dancing penguin, you both are doubling over and slamming your foreheads against the glass.

You rub your stomach to tend to the growing pain while Ellie holds onto your arm, trying not to fall to the floor.

“I think we had too much,” Ellie says through heaves.

“How?” You ask as your laughter simmers and you can finally catch another look at the penguin. It’s back on its rock beside its pals and you wonder if the show happened at all. “You’re not light-weight.”

“Dina and I used a looot of oil in these things. Like… too much.”

You place a hand on your lower belly and suck in an intoxicating breath. “Oh God,” you mutter.

Ellie’s eyes steady—as does her posture—and she places her hands atop your shoulders, smoothing the worry down your arms and through your fingertips. “You okay?” She asks, her face contorting into a doctor-esque look. “Do you want to go now?”

You look over her, as if you haven’t been staring at every inch of her since you arrived at the zoo. Her black jeans do her ass the biggest, fattest favor, and the tight Henley snuggling her breasts make you want to take its place. When she turns her her head every which way, you stare down her face, as if you haven’t seen her freckles a load of times, or the hair she continues cutting shorter. (This time you hope she keeps it this way. )

“You want to go?” She asks again, and you remember she asked you this in the first place.

You shake your head and sigh as you realize it was a mistake. You’re slightly dizzy and fucking freezing. “We can leave this exhibit. Let’s move onto the next one.”

“The ants and insects?” Ellie asks, obviously a joke as she slides her fingers onto your torso and tickles your you.

You squirm and slap her hands off. “No! Hell no! I mean the giraffes.”

Ellie kisses your cheek and runs her mouth along your ear. “Okay,” she whispers, and you have to tighten your hands into fists to keep them from running up her damn Henley.

Your hands are wrapped around a cheeseburger and you’re leaned against Ellie’s old gray truck. You sit outside your apartment and watch as people get in and out of their apartments and cars.

“Do you ever wonder what people are leaving?” You ask. Your question is stuck in a blob of the same question and you try your best to word it correctly.

You look over at Ellie as her brows wriggle on her forehead. “Whaddyamean?” She asks, her mouth full. Usually you’d stand up and run away after watching your date talk with their mouth full, but you must be in serious love because you find it cute as hell.

“Like…” you breathe. “When people walk out of their houses, or whatever, I wonder where they’re going. Who are they going to meet? What are they going to do? Or when I’m driving—or you are—and you stare out the window and just look at these drivers faces; do you not wonder where they’re going? If they have a family they’re coming home to. If they’re struggling in some part of their life but they’re happy nonetheless.”

“Sonder,” she says.

“Hm?”

“Sonder,” she repeats, now looking at you. She’s completely entranced. “I’ve heard that’s what it is.”

“Is it weird that I wonder that?” You ask her.

She shakes her head as if that’s a stupid question to ask. “No. I think it’s interesting to always have those questions. To always want to know.”

You nod even though you yourself think it’s strange. No one has ever been on her side on this matter. You explain yourself well to those you tell—past partners, flings, friends—but no one has attempted to understand.

“Seriously” you ask, much quieter, less thrilled to hear her truth.

Ellie sets down her burger and the faintest chuckle rips through her. “You think I’m a liar?” She questions.

You shrug and lower your burger to your thighs. The wrapper between your fingers is greasy, it almost feels as though its mimicking the sweat coating your forehead. Anxiety is biting your skin off; Ellie knowing about what most run from cannot be thrilling.

“I don’t think you’re a liar.” You pick up your drink and take a sip, soothing the lump of food lodged between your words. “I just don’t know if you’re telling the truth.”

She laughs this time and takes your drink from your hands. “That, my love, is quite literally the definition of a liar.”

“Is it?” You ask, sounding smaller and smaller the more you talk. You feel like it, too.

Ellie places the drink beside you as she walks around your shaking body. She steals the burger from your hand as well and carefully dumps it into the take-out bag. You stare at her through all of her motions, especially as she looms over you, her body wriggling over yours and ready to grab your hands. But as she does—grab them—she pulls back. You both laugh, you more than her, causing a scarlet tone to spread across her dotted cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” you chuckle. “It just feels so…”

She violently nods. “Yeah.”

“Anyways”—you shake your head and scramble all of the past few seconds into an amnesiac memory— “tell me what you were going to say.”

She does so as well, and instead settles her hands on your knees. “You are not strange, or crazy, or creepy. You just have a creative mind and a desperate need to know about people. You may not go up to them and flat-out ask what they’re feeling, or if they have kids and a partner and what-not, but you think about it, and you hope they’re okay.” She stares into your eyes now and you stare back. Typically you silently beg for the other to fall tired of staring, but this time you take it in like a warm blanket.

This moment causes you to realize Ellie is different than who you’ve spent time sharing deep secrets with. As she hazily drinks you in and smoothes her thumbs over your knees, softer than anyone has ever handled you, you see how different she is. How different she feels when you think of her. How your body doesn’t empty itself of warmth when you think of your potential 'futures' together.

Ellie feels safe. She is safe. And she loves how you think of every passerby with the same care as you do with friends and family.

You wipe your greasy—and sweaty—hands on your jeans and push her rustled hair behind her left ear. Your thumb glides past her earlobe and ghosts over her jaw.

Ellie leans herself onto your hand, takes her own, and touches every single one of your fingers. She sounds like a horse as she whinnies and rubs her face against your palm.

She continues turning until her lips meet your fingers. She kisses your fingers and slowly opens her mouth, air striking your skin and casting goosebumps along it. Her tongue darts out and licks the pad of your index. You shiver.

You fight to keep your eyes on her but break as Ellie chuckles. A rumbling sounds in the pit of your stomach and instantly, you know you’re in trouble. You look down at your lap and try to cross your legs, but everything down there is far too uncomfortable to do so.

“You okay?” Ellie whispers.

You nod. “Yeah,” you say through nervous laughter. “I just don’t want anyone to catch you falling into your urges, you know?”

“I don’t care,” she whines. “I want to.”

It feels as though a fly catches in your throat. You can barely breathe at how she sounds—whiny, desperate, in need to kiss you… and not just on your thumb. You want to let her do it all to you right now as she stares hungrily into you, her chest rising and her lips puckering. But…to kiss her and deeply taste her when anyone could be peeking through their curtain or getting off as they watch through their car window… You would much rather not.

“I want to, too, El,” you reply. The rest of your sentence tugs at your tongue but you bite down on it.

“But..?”

“But if you want to then I think we should go inside.”

Ellie grabs your face and smashes her lips against yours. She kisses you hard and fast, her teeth closing down on your bottom lip. Her hands wander from your face to your shoulders to your lower back. She sneaks her fingers under your shirt and grasps your skin.

Your mouth parts and a humiliating groan slips out. You shut your mouth by biting down on her lip—as she had done to yours.

Ellie digs her nails into your skin and soon enough, you’re full-on making out—teeth silently clashing, mouths sucking on lips and tongues fighting one another for a kind of flavor only insanely horny folk’ can taste.

“Okay,” Ellie hums against your mouth. “Let’s…” She runs out of breath and you pull away. “Let’s go inside?”

You bite down on your swollen lip and nod. “Mhm-hm,” you answer with a shaken brain and a pulsing center.

Ellie grabs your to-go bags and drinks and slips her hand into yours as she leads you up to your apartment. You slide your key in shake it around, unlocking the door that somehow feels difficult to open. Maybe it’s because you want to fall inside and fuck Ellie’s brains out for the first time already, or you simply forgot how to open doors.

You finally get to open the door and as if you’re on a mission, you pull Ellie inside with enough force to pull her arm out of her socket, and slam the door shut. Poor neighbors you have, but they’ll understand. They see Ellie come by almost everyday, and each time they see her, they raise their eyebrows and cross their fingers, as if to say ‘Today is the day,’ but it never is.

However, tonight… might be the night.

You open your door with your hand desperate to hold hers. You tug her into your room and as if anyone else lives with you, you shut the door. You drop your bag and kick off your shoes. All you can hear is your short and rapid breaths.

“You want to?” Ellie asks after you’ve done kicked your shoes off and have slid out of your jacket.

You look up as your fingers tug at your shirt. Her shoes are off and her jacket is dangling off her pointer finger. You feverishly nod. “Yes,” you spit out. “Yes, I do. I really do. Only if you want to.”

Ellie drops her jacket and hastily makes her way to you. She grips your shirt where you hold it and pulls it up your body. “Up,” she whispers, “please.”

You like it—her attempt at being rough. You say attempt because after she roughly pulls your shirt over your head and tosses it onto the floor, she smoothes your hair down and tenderly kisses you.

You’re left in your black bralette and jeans. Ellie looks down at your body from where you stand centimeters apart (it feels like such). Her breath spreads across your breasts and your nipples harden. You tip your head back and stare at the ceiling as the feeling of Ellie’s fingers appear at the button of your pants.

“Can I take these off?” She asks.

You nod. “Please,” you say, your voice groggy.

She quickly undoes the button and pulls down your zipper. She slides the denim down your legs and kisses your thighs as she does so. You watch her as she does this—how her body slides down, her ass looking great in her jeans, her body almost arching at the taste of your skin.

She aids your legs out of the holes and pushes the jeans away. She stands up again and feels the ridges of your body: the slight jump from your plump thighs to your hips, the stretch marks sliding across your tummy, the groove of your belly button.

Ellie takes her time feeling your body, smelling your skin, dotting hickeys along your hips and space between your underwear and belly button. She groans as she reaches your breasts. Her face appears in front of you as though she wasn’t just at your tits, and she kisses your cheek, her hands palming your breasts through your bra.

You release a strangled moan. You nod and nod, pushing her forward.

She leans down to kiss your tits while her hands work on pushing your bra strap down. You can’t bear standing as she does this to you, so you push her back until her knees hit your bed. You push her down and smile at her as she pushes herself up on her elbows.

“Oh god,” she mutters as she looks at you. “You’re beautiful.”

You blush. “Shut up.”

She shakes her head and swallows, the sound pinging in your ears. “No. C’mere. Please.”

You nod and hop up onto the bed. You straddle her waist and rest your hands on the hem of her shirt. You tilt your head to the side and move your body around atop her. You whimper and she curses beneath her breath. “Why are you still dressed?”

Her mouth opens and you laugh.

“C’mon,” you murmur. You paw at her shirt and begin pulling it up her body. She sits up and lets you take it off. You leave it on the bed and quickly get back at her body—toned and ready for you. Your fingers roam along the band of her bra and find their way under. You cup her tits and run your thumb across her hard nipple. “Does this feel good?”

She chokes out a “Yes,” and rolls her head back. Her hips buck and you continue. You pinch her hardened buds and watch her bite down on her lip and curse louder than you’ve ever heard before. She’s blushing all over, her cheeks fiery red, causing her freckles to hide behind the ferocity. Her chest has become splotchy, and not from any hickeys you’ve imagined giving her. She’s blushing and hot, too—physically hot. Warm to the touch.

"You okay?" You stop to question.

She nods. "Nervous. Horny." Her words and wobbly but flopping out of her mouth in big waves. "Both?"

You chuckle and with the back of your hands, you push her bra up over her sore tits. She blushes harder and you lean down to kiss her lips. "Stop," you hum between pecks. "You’re okay. It’s just me."

"That’s exactly why!" She groans and tilts her head to the side, her eyes rolling as you run your fingers down her body and maneuver your mouth to her tits. Thankfully, Ellie isn’t some masc lesbian who thinks salivating on and over her breasts is atrocious. Currently she’s moaning and humming your name, begging you to keep going.

"I want more," you say, popping your lips off her nipple.

"Wh-what, like… You want me to take my—"

"Take your pants off, yes. And those boxers of yours if you’d like, too."

She swallows and nods. "Yeah. Of course. Just erm… Scoot back a bit."

You pull your legs over hers and unbutton and unzip her pants. You pull them down and as she did to you, you take her feet out and lay her pants to the side.

Now she’s bare. Almost.

You sweep a hand over her thighs and close to her center. A thumb accidentally glides over her clothed clit and she jerks. "God, please," Ellie whines. She slaps her hand over yours and grasps it tightly. “Just…” Her mouth trembles, lips widening and shutting as if she’s either going to cry or… cream her pants. “Skip the extra foreplay. I need you on me.”

You nod and plant a soft kiss on the inside of her thigh. You jump up and pull down your panties. You toss the boring boy shorts onto the flowing pile of clothes and start to crawl onto the bed.

Ellie watches you with wide eyes. Her breath is snug in her throat and her knuckles are white from how tight she’s holding the bed sheets.

You sit beside her—your ass on your heels—and grip her side. From there, you trail down to her navy boxers with a wet spot right on her center. You smirk but send your tongue to fight the inside of your cheek to prevent it from spreading across your face.

Ellie sits up as best as she can and tears off her boxers. She sends them flying somewhere in the room and you both chuckle at the sound it makes. Your mouth drops in a certain wonderstruck you have yet to experience. She’s shaven, only leaving one dark strip.

You nod, ready. You grip her hips and nudge open her thighs. You look into her eyes and move your hands up onto her shoulders. She braces hers on your waist and pulls you up onto her thigh. You lower yourself down onto her and feel the heat of her skin on your pussy. You groan and bite down on your lip.

You look at Ellie as she situates herself beneath you and ask, “Is this okay for you?”

She nods. She rolls her hips against you and you drop your head, your mind already foggy the more she rolls and circles them. You follow her lead, both awkwardly trying to figure out what feels best and how to continue doing that.

Quickly, though, Ellie catches onto the specific way she rolls her hips, pelvic bone slamming into you perfectly. You push a hand down onto Ellie’s clit and circle your fingers around the pulsing bud. She jolts but the movements spur her on. She moves faster and the chord in your lower belly is being pulled taut.

You groans and gasps in the air coming from the both of you leave behind the embarrassment of the first few seconds of heat action. You dig your nails into her hips and take the lead as Ellie slows down.

This… this leaves Ellie gasping and fucking quaking. You roll onto her and slither a hand onto her nipple. You roll her hardened bud between your thumb and index and she arches her back. She digs her hands into the mattress and lets out an ear-shattering moan. You lean down and kiss her breasts. You grasp and lick them, and this drives her crazy.

“Touch me,” she says.

“I am, babe,” you pant.

She grabs your hand and leads it down to her center. She trails your fingers down her slit and groans at the contact of your hot fingers on her clit. You lift your hips in order for her to follow you down right where— “I want you inside me.”

You blush. The redness—not of the heat tinting your skin—chars your cheeks and you skip a breath. “In—inside of you?”

She nods. “Please,” she whines.

You nod and slide a finger inside of her. She’s wet, so easy to slide another in. And you pump your fingers in and out of her, sliding your palm against her clit. You look down at the mess on your hand, then at Ellie’s sex hair and sex face and how red her tits are.

Your core is throbbing. How you are as of now—knuckles deep inside of Ellie, fucking her out of her mind—has you coming yourself. The sound of your fingers against her wet pussy along with how hot she looks writhing beneath you has the chord in your belly ripping.

You gasp at first. You cry out her name and soon enough, Ellie is coming. She shakes and slaps her hand over your wrist. “Keep going,” she begs you. “Keepgoingkeepgoing—“

You do so. And the more you go, the more her legs shake. She presses herself against your palm and soon enough, she comes again. This time, she slowly pulls your hand away with her thighs tight against you fingers. She whines when she fully pulls you away.

She takes that hand and pushes it onto your lips. “Open,” she says, and you do. She slips her fingers into your mouth and you suck her cum off your fingers. “Good. That’s my girl.”

You roll your eyes and pop your mouth off your fingers. “Don’t say that or I’ll sit on your face to shut you up.

She tilts her head with wide eyes and looks up at you. “Is that a threat? Because I surely wouldn’t mind that.”

You push her into the mattress and straddle her waist with sore thighs. You kiss her mouth and suck on every inch of her mouth. “I wouldn’t mind either.”

“Then c’mon,” she says, slapping your ass. “Get on and ride my face darling.”

#ellie williams #elliewilliams x reader #ellie williams tlou #lesbian romance #ellie williams x you #the last of us #oneshot #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams headcanons #ellie the last of us #tlou2 #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x f! reader #ellie fanfiction

102 notes · View notes

snickerdoodlles · 1 year ago

Note

5. What’s a fic idea you’ve had that you will never write?

😏😒

i love how u let me torment you with these ideas <3 part of a convo with @bisexualbard-writes and @thewholedamnboulangerie from last night:

bard I’m quietly and with no pressure rooting for a sequel about virgin sacrifice Chay 🤣💖

cookie 😂 I typed that line as a joke, stared at it for a minute, then went "oh no" Chay wearing sheer white with flowers in his hair and makeup done for ✨Maximum Innocence✨ and the world's softest pair of handcuffs he's a virgin sacrifice but he's the world's most perfect pillow princess first

bard The sluttiest, most willing virgin sacrifice Wait stop giving me ideas

emma 👀

cookie 👀✨ Chay has never been more ready in his LIFE Arching and writhing in his bonds, crying out for help, legs conveniently spread or ready to be spread

bard Oh he would haaate for some powerful mysterious being to come and fuck him but then be so enraptured by him that the powerful mysterious being takes him away to a godly palace to be his adored boy toy

cookie truly a horrendous fate for the world's most innocent and bestest boy. how could this have happened to him, how could he have been targeted for this Kim: Chay Chay: wait can you drug me too what'll make me floaty and horny you guys deal that right Kim: CHAY

bard The most innocent and bestest boy!! How could he be ravaged by such brutes! How terrible how unexpected. Why yes his asshole is pre-lubricated but that’s completely unrelated

cookie no no it is related, doesn’t everyone know all virgins have lubed assholes? oh wait they’re mafia brutes ofc they dont read 🙄

bard The body glitter and lip gloss are also unrelated

cookie these are indeed unrelated tho total coincidence

bard Oh of course, my mistake, I forgot that the more innocent and best the boy is the more lubed the asshole

cookie [nods nods] precisely, that's why he's dripping world's most innocent and bestest boy!!!!

bard His thighs are also very fuckable, what with the dripping lube. If anyone was wondering.

cookie his pillow is also very good for supporting his shoulders and propping his head up to fuck his mouth btws. if anyone cares.

[[ writer asks ]]

#this is so clean and simple outside of the groupchat lol #that said ima just...*slides on community label*#kinnporsche #kimchay #......................kinda. mostly. pretty much yeah but. also.#im not tagging the usual tag because. i might actually do this one. 👀#fingers crossed tumblr doesnt fuck up the formatting but i dont have high hopes

24 notes · View notes

lumonrecycles · 7 months ago

Text

Ok, after just starting the scene where Devon goes for coffee after a contraction and thinking about how very odd it all is, and trying to fit it with my theory that she is a babysitter. Maybe she’s a spy, she knows Ricken is an Eagan and is a sleeper agent and that’s why she is so into gabby and wants to go poking around over there. It still explains her being way over tolerant of Ricken being weird. Or maybe she’s being held hostage and wants info to help her and mark escape?

Her answer, during labor, to I think lumon might be up to something, from mark, is who have you been talking to?

And she exclaims during a contraction, why do people do this? Weird.

At the birth when mark is flashing back Ricken say she did so good, I’m gonna pass out. Who is he talking to? Alexa would know that, why tell her she’s the doula.

After hellys return from the hospital why is mark there? Why isn’t it someone more important and qualified if not that they are observing these guys reactions.

When asked why she sent ms Casey to monitor Helly she says the light of discovery shines truer upon a virgin meadow than a beaten path. I’m trying something new with Ms Casey. Bc Ms Casey’s innie is so young? Or bc this is a new tactic she’s using being someone mark knows on the liaise to his inside?

Now Ms Casey is wearing black/grey/white. She was wearing blue, and red.

How tf does Ms Casey know irv cares where Burt is?

Okokok. Burt telling of the joke theory that mdr have punches for their larval young, who will eventually eat and replace them?!? This is def alluding to the Eagans dusties lying dormant in at least in mdr. Maybe mdr are dusties and o and d are regulars? Dylan calls them duplicitous snakes to a one. Why would there be such beef between dusties and non dusties?

Is this Romeo and Juliet relationship meant to mirror this one more than just superficiallly?

Why is Ms Casey so scared mark and Helly got hurt on the mental health walk? Who has she lost before and what happened to them?

Upstairs wouldn’t look kindly on this, says graber to cobel, in the same convo where they make it apparent it is his job to surveil mdr. Which means, on top of them not knowing about the hanging, that nobody is watching these guys like they are watching mdr. Or, if they are, they are being just as secretive about it.

I still can’t get over that line. I thought I was being trolled the first time I heard it. I was agog. Bonded by the spirit of industry, just like these two lovebirds.

Maybe it’s an Eagan by birth vs Eagan by revolving thing?

#severance #the grim barbarity of optics and design

0 notes

ihaechans · 3 years ago

Text

Crush on You || P.JS

PAIRING ▸ Jisung x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ friends to lovers, smut, fluff, college!au

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, mentions of cheating, alcohol mentions, sub/virgin Jisung, corruption kink reader, Dom!reader, cumming in pants, overstimulation, Jisung getting the best handjob of his life, begging, multiple orgasms, slight cum eating, edging

SUMMARY ▸ Jisung is a little too innocent for his own good, and when he asks you to help him fix that your friendship takes a slight turn.... okay, maybe a big turn.

WORD COUNT▸ 5.1k

“Cut the bullshit, Hyuck.” You growled, beyond angry: pissed. It had only been a week since your, now ex-boyfriend, Sehun, had been caught giving head to some random girl at Mingi’s party.

“I’m not defending him or anything I’m just telling you, I saw him. He was so wasted I thought someone put something in his drink.” Haechan shrugged, signs of worry loosely hanging in his tone.

“Dumbass!” You scoffed, swatting the boy’s head, a little harder than intended, “Ugh! I’m done here.” You spat coldly, gathering your textbooks and notebooks before throwing them uncaringly into your bag as you stormed out of the room, leaving poor Donghyuck in the dust.

Donghyuck, or Haechan, has been your best friend since the beginning of time. The both of you met way back, maybe in seventh grade. You couldn’t remember shit.

The only thing you were certain of was that the two of you were in the same Science class and sat at the same table. But honestly, it was bound to happen. His nice, caring, gentle, yet funny, protective, and reasoning spirit paired with your “cold” and straightforward one was perfect.

Both of you decided to put in the effort to stay best friends as long as possible, and so far it was working.

If you wanted to talk, he would listen. Not daring to speak so that he wouldn’t miss a single detail. Sometimes you wondered how you achieved having such a guy like him in your life. You wanted to thank him, to show affection, but you just couldn’t do it no matter how hard you tried.

“Jesus-”

“Hey! Watch it!” You yelled, turning around hastily to see a tall, lanky- yet handsome man you had never seen around here before. A deep blush crept onto his face at his embarrassment.

He was wearing a turquoise bomber jacket, dark blue jeans, and the cleanest white sneakers you have ever laid your eyes on. Your pupils lingered on his hair. That shiny, dark brown hair hung over his eyes slightly.

Shit. He was hot.

“Sorry to bother you… I’m Park Jisung.”

Two years later

It was mid-spring, the best time to explore outside of campus and hang out with your friends- at least for you and Hyuck.

The two of you took the time out of your day to go to the gigantic, yet tranquil park just around campus. Your current position made children stare as your head was resting in Donghyuck’s lap, his fingers softly playing with your hair.

“Y/n? Are you awake? If so, hopefully, you never open your eyes again.” The boy joked, flicking your forehead with his middle finger and rolling his eyes. Haechan pushed you off of his lap lightly before getting up and stretching out his limbs.

“Wow, what a way to treat a girl Haechan,” Called a voice not far from where the two of you were sitting under a tree. “We made it.”

Haechan snickered, lowering his voice to a whisper and bending down to your ear, “Your man is here,” Your face contorted with annoyance as you slapped the back of Haechan’s head before he could move away.

Jisung. Park Jisung and your friends. Xiaojun, Jungwoo, Taeil, Yuta, and Chenle.

A year ago, you would probably be thirsting over all of them desperate to get into their pants. When Donghyuck introduced them to you it was an entirely different story. The thought of your past self made you cringe in embarrassment.

They weren’t the type of people you would want to fuck. You wanted to be their friend, and you didn’t say that about people very often. It just so happened that they weren’t afraid of being weirded out by you, even with your reputation around campus.

But Jisung, Jisung was a different story. You wanted to fuck him so badly, but you couldn’t. Everyone and their mother knew that Park Jisung is still a virgin. Hell, you don’t even think he masturbates. He was so shy the first time you guys met he wouldn’t dare look you straight in the eye.

Of course, there’s nothing wrong with being a virgin but sex with you- he just wasn’t ready even if he wanted it or not.

So caught up in your head, you don’t realize the boys are having a full on conversation, ears only picking up on Jungwoo’s voice as he says something out of pocket.

“What if wearing no clothes outside of your house was normalized?” Jungwoo blurted, a light chuckle slipping past your lips at his words.

“Woo, I’m pretty sure nobody wants to see your little two-inch dick anyways.” Taunted Chenle from behind you, causing everyone to holler with laughter.

“Hey! You’ve all seen my dick at least once! It’s not even small!”

When you and your friends were together, time was the most important thing in the world. For some reason you felt free- you felt happy and grateful that you had these men by your side. It had always been just you and Haechan for the longest time, only a few students daring to talk to the both of you. In the end, they never ended up lasting more than a few months with you.

_____

“Y/n? Are you listening?” Jisung called out, snapping you out of your thoughts. “I said can I please talk to you for a second? Alone…” He finished, looking over his shoulder to see if anyone else was paying attention.

At this point, the rest of the boys were either walking around the park or looking around for someplace to get food for you and your friends The only reason you two were left alone was that “Jisung needs someone to protect him” as the eldest Taeil says.

“Right now?” You questioned, your head tilting on its own in curiosity.

“Yes, right now. Come on.” Jisung stated, roughly dragging you by your hand along with him behind a large tree a couple meters away. It had gotten pretty dark now, and he made sure the rest of the boys were nowhere in sight.

“Y/n, I-I wanted to- um, ask you if you could uhh- maybe teach me how to do stuff… with girls,” Your eyebrows raise in surprise but you stay quiet. “There’s this girl I really like. I-I don’t want her to think I’m an amateur or something because I’ve only kissed one girl. I really need your help.”

Little did you know the girl he was crushing on was indeed, you.

“Jisung. Stop.” The boy’s face fell as you spoke. He opened his mouth to speak up once more but you cut him off, “Damn I knew you were a virgin but tell me you’re joking about the kissing a girl part.” You teased, a cheeky grin etching its way onto your features.

The boy sighed in embarrassment and frustration, “I have kissed girls before! Please Y/n? I’m being serious. I don’t know how to do that stuff and I want to ask this girl to go on a date with me. You’re the only girl I know how to talk to and I need you to help me with this.”

You smiled inwardly at his statement. You both knew damn well that Jisung barely knew how to speak to you half of the time due to his random bursts of nervousness, much like now.

“I’ll have to think about it. But why don’t we gather the boys up and ditch this place?” You insisted, grabbing his arm and dragging him along to find the boys before he could answer. You wouldn’t miss the chance to tell Hyuck about this later, that’s for sure.

It was embarrassing.

The way Jisung felt about his proposal to you was embarrassing. The entire car ride to your and Haechan’s shared home was spent with his eyes on you, taking in your beauty. Jisung wasn’t dumb. He knows when he sees a pretty girl, and that made him nervous. You made him nervous, but he was too scared to admit that to anyone besides the voices in his head.

His daze was broken when Chenle spoke up with a proposal, “When we get to the house we should play something fun. Never have I ever, beer pong, two truths, and a lie…” You hummed in agreement with what he was saying but never really paid attention to his words.

The other boys nodded in unison, some voicing their agreement. The rest of the ride home was filled with Haechan and Yuta bickering about something, you were too tired to comprehend anything at the moment. the soft howl of the wind, droplets of rain, and the endless sky were slowly lulling you to sleep, and before you knew it you were knocked out.

_____

You woke up to the sounds of arguing once again. Eyes fluttering to adjust to the light, you took in your surroundings. You were stationed on Haechan’s couch, the rest of the boys gathered together in the kitchen playing some sort of game.

You shuffled on the couch, about to alert the boys you were awake when you overheard Taeil’s voice.

“Jisung, we all know you like her. If you don’t confess soon you’re going to lose her,” The rest of the boys nodded in agreement at the eldest’s statement.

Jisung looked at his friends with hesitance while scratching the back of his neck anxiously, “Guys… you know I can’t. I tried to but I just couldn’t. Look at her and then look at me. She will never see me as more than a friend,” He finished, sighing at the thought of being rejected.

It felt like a brick wall had slammed into you when the jealousy hit. You wanted him to feel that way about you, not anyone else. You wanted him to yourself at that moment, practically jumping off of the couch to get their attention.

Your actions startled the men in the kitchen, the majority of them giving you a questioning look of concern. Jisung on the other hand was as red as a tomato, twiddling with his fingers and looking everywhere but at you.

You sauntered over to your friends, acting clueless, “What are we talking about over here boys?” You questioned, wrapping your arms around Hyuck’s torso while snuggling your face into his back.

Haechan laughed nervously at your position before making up a stupid lie in his head, “Oh nothing… we were just about to play two truths and a lie,”

You could see Xiaojun and Jungwoo rolling their eyes from the corner of your vision at Haechan’s stupid lie but held composure. Jisung on the other hand was almost shaking with nervousness at your presence, his confession earlier making his head spin with uncertainty.

“Let’s just continue playing, just add Y/n into the mix,” Shrugs Yuta, sipping on what you assumed was beer in a red plastic cup.

Jisungs eyes flickered to you momentarily and you didn’t miss it, his heart thumped against his chest and the boy looked away quickly. Your eyes stayed on his form, piercing into his skull waiting for him to make eye contact with you once more but it never came.

Your friends were starting to pick up on the tension between you and Jisung the longer the night went on, eyes flickering back and forth from each of you throughout each game. Haechan and Jungwoo even made a bet that Jisung would confess his feelings first.

All of the boys knew about your little crush on Jisung, except for the poor boy himself. It aggravated you sometimes how blind he could be but toying with his innocence from time to time was exhilarating. The thought of corrupting the poor guy made you more turned on than you’d like to admit.

_____

It was past 2 am when the boys announced their departure, and you couldn’t help but pout at the thought of Jisung leaving so soon.

“Why can’t you guys just stay over for the night? Haechan has enough rooms and blankets for you guys,” Your eyes found their place on Haechan before he nodded in approval at your suggestion.

Your friends talked among themselves before deciding on sleeping over, claiming rooms and spaces throughout the house. Xiaojun and Yuta claimed the living room, Haechan and Chenle would use Haechan’s room, Taeil and Jungwoo decided on the guest room, and surprisingly, Jisung was left with you. In your room. Alone.

Jisung gulped hard at the thought of being alone with you while his friends were sleeping. The thought of what you could do to him made blood rush to his cock.

“Alright Jisung, I made you a little platform of blankets in case you want to sleep on the floor, but my bed is always available too,” You winked, your voice getting more seductive as the sentence went on.

Jisung swore you were hinting at something but decided to let it go in case he was wrong. “Thank you, Y/n.” The boy quickly laid down on the floor of blankets, not sparing another look in your direction.

The room was silent after that, the only noises to be heard were the sounds of even breathing. Neither of you were truly asleep and the atmosphere was still tense.

The silence was broken when Jisung spoke up, “Y/n, I just want to apologize about earlier. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable or awkward,”

You battled yourself in your head, trying to decide whether or not you should mess with Jisung or just simply go to sleep. It was sad to admit that you let the intrusive thoughts win again.

“Jisung,” You purred, catching the boy by surprise, “You said you needed help, right?” You rolled over to get a clear view of Jisung, eyes landing on your target immediately. Jisung was splayed out on the floor, blankets messily hanging over his long body. One look into his eyes and you could see how weak he was for you.

Climbing out of bed, you took slow steps towards Jisung as if he were your prey. The boy was in nothing but shock as you finally reached his frozen form, straddling him as you sat down on his pelvic area.

The boy under you finally seemed to snap out of his imagination, realizing that this was actually happening. His hands found a place on your hips automatically, blood rushing to his cock against his sweatpants.

You had him in a trance as you set your hands under his t-shirt and onto his body, starting with his abs, moving to his nipples, and back down to his abs again. Jisung was practically panting in anticipation, not a single word leaving either of your mouths.

“Baby boy, you’re gonna have to be quiet if you don’t want others to wake up and find us, understood?” Waiting for an answer, you ground yourself down onto his half-hard dick, eliciting a sharp moan from his throat.

“Ah, fuck,- yes, I promise,” he swore, fingers tightening around your sides at the pleasure he received. You continued grinding down onto his cock with a steady pace, not nearly enough friction for you but Jisung seemed to be enjoying it a bit too much. He was a hot mess under you already, squirming and moaning without shame at your ministrations.

You smiled down at him wickedly, the boy under you becoming embarrassed by your continuous stare, Jisung closed his eyes and tilted his head back in pleasure, the fact he was getting close to cumming by a little bit of grinding was humiliating.

“You’re my little toy. Isn’t that right Jisung?”

His gut twisted at your words, he was close. He knew he was going to cum if you kept going. Jisung was ashamed, humiliated by the thought of cumming in his pants. He tried to hold off for a bit longer but hearing a low moan escape your lips was enough to push him over the edge.

With a shudder and a guttural moan, Jisung came in his pants, panting heavily into the air. The sudden motion of your lips on his was too much for him to handle. He kissed back with all of his might, trying to keep up with your sloppy and fast pace.

He must be dreaming. He had to be.

“Y/n… I came,” he blurted, his own eyes finally opening to look back into your own anxiously. He wondered if you were the type for punishments, his dick twitching at the thought.

“It’s ok baby boy, I know you’ve waited so long for this. I’ll let you cum as many times as you want, as long as you repay the favor,”

His eyebrows perked up at your proposal, nodding more eagerly than he meant to. You smiled at the man under you before instructing him to sit up and let you take his spot.

Jisung finally threw the covers off of himself in a hurry, revealing a very obvious damp spot on his sweatpants. His cheeks were a deep shade of red, and Jisung was happy it was dark enough in the room for you not to see.

Jisung kneeled before you patiently while you hooked your fingers into the side of your sleeping shorts and panties, wiggling them down your hips slowly, almost as if you were putting on a private show for him.

Jisung licked his lips uncontrollably at the sight of your bare pussy, his cock starting to become hard once again. He had dreamed of this too many times to count. He may not be an expert but he had imagined making you cum so many times before in his dreams.

You spread your legs, pulling them up to your chest. Jisung dived in immediately, a sloppy technique yet good stimulation. The word ‘slow’ wasn’t in his vocabulary at this point. He slurped and groaned into your pussy desperately, a vibration of pleasure traveling through your body.

Jisung panted heavily between breaths, marveling at the sight of your pussy, “Fuck- you taste so good,” He groaned, swirling his tongue around your clit.

You gripped onto his hair tightly, tugging on his roots without mercy. Jisung moaned whenever you pulled at him, only spurring him on more. He was so desperate to make you cum, he needed it so badly.

“You’re doing so good baby, fuck-” A hard suck to your clit has you moaning out loudly, back arching off of the floor in pleasure. Jisung wraps his hands around your thighs to keep you still while he continues his ruthless ministrations on your pussy.

Jisung glances up at you from in between your thighs. He had never seen anything sexier. Your head was thrown back in ecstasy, still pulling at his locks roughly. The moment your eyes met something snapped in him. He desired you, needed you to come undone on his tongue.

He pushed his face deeper against your pussy, desperate to see you, to taste you. “Please, please cum, I need it so bad please,” He begged, sucking your clit with fervor.

You were a mess. Thighs shaking and eyes lidded from pleasure. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge as Jisung suffocated himself in your pussy, eating you out like a starved man.

Panting, you brought his hand up to your mouth before sucking on his digits while maintaining eye contact, “Finger me, baby, make me cum,” You instructed.

Jisung was no professional but he was sure good at what he was doing. He mentally high-fived himself at the remembrance of studying the female body a couple of weeks ago, the information reminding him to curl his fingers and find your ‘g-spot’.

Inserting his middle and ring fingers into your pussy, Jisung attached his mouth back onto your clit, sucking hard. The wet sounds of your pussy and the two of you moaning were the only sounds that filled the air. You moaned out a little too loudly, secretly hoping the walls weren’t as thin as they seemed.

The boy fingered you with intensity, curling his fingers up into your g-spot with precision.

This boy is insane, you thought.

Your hips arched off of the floor once more and your thighs trembled, fighting to close themselves from the immense pleasure you were receiving.

Jisung panted into your pussy pleading for you to come undone once more, “I need to taste you so bad, please cum Y/n I can’t take it- fuck,” Jisung rutted his hips into the soft blankets beneath him desperately, stimulating himself just enough to feel an orgasm coming. The longer he fingered you the more frantic he became, fingers disappearing in and out of you hurriedly, his hips frantically thrusting into the mattress, wishing it was your wet cunt.

With a final suck on your clit and pump of his slim fingers you were gone. Your head fell back, mouth open in a silent scream. Your back arched with pleasure, hips stuttering as you came on Jisungs tongue.

Moments later, Jisung moans, a high-pitched tone that signals he was cumming. Tears pricked at his eyes from how hard he came, his vision becoming blurry. He couldn’t stop cumming. It felt like an eternity before he let out a choked sob, burying his face into the side of your thigh while panting heavily.

You chuckled out of breath, fingers lazy combing through Jisungs hair. Your eyes closed at the loss of energy but Jisung still had other plans. The boy licked at your dripping folds softly, trying his hardest to lick up all of the cum leaking out.

A whine left your lips at the feeling, too weak to push his head away from your oversensitive opening. “Jisung- shit, take your shirt off and lay down,” You ordered, Fingers continuing to brush through his locks.

His tongue left your pussy in an instant, flinging his shirt off of his body and moving to lay flat on his back once again. The boy gulped in anticipation as you crawled over him, hands feeling his body until you reached his sensitive cock. You palmed his cock eagerly, he was nowhere near small.

Jisung held his breath in impatience, wondering what you would do to him. You pulled his sweatpants down in a flash, marveling at the sight of his unrestrained cock.

Jisung groaned in embarrassment at the sight of you staring at his dick so shamelessly, shutting his eyes sheepishly. Your hands softly made their way up his body, reaching their destination at his neck.

The boy under you gasped softly at the feeling of your fingers tracing along the veins in his neck, almost as if you were hesitant. “I’ll do that another time, I don’t think you’re ready,” Jisung was clueless at your actions as you continued mindlessly tracing along his neck.

“I need to know that you want this Jisung,” You were being stern, letting him know that if he wanted you to stop that you would in an instant.

He nodded eagerly at your words, “Don’t stop… please,”

In a swift movement, your lips were on his neck, kissing along the expanse of his jaw in the process. Soft moans escaped the boy’s mouth as you continued, slowly kissing your way down his body.

Jisung shuddered against your touch as you went lower and lower, kissing against his lower abdomen teasingly. Just as Jisung was about to tangle his hands in your hair when you suddenly pulled away from his touch.

“I don’t think you deserve to be sucked off yet,” you teased, fingers finding their place around his hard cock, “how about I help you out with my hand instead?”

Jisung was completely hard again, his cock standing straight against his abdomen. He was completely under your power, whining at the contact. He was so sensitive due to his prior orgasms, already trying to wiggle free from your grasp.

Jisung placed his hand on yours that was wrapped around his cock, “Y/n, I-I can’t cum anymore… it hurts,” he whined, eyes shut tight at the pain.

“I know you can baby, one more time for me?” Your pleading made him cave sooner than expected, a simple nod from Jisung was all the permission you needed before slowly moving your hand up and down around his cock.

Jisung cried out, loud enough that anyone in the house could hear. You pulled your hand away from his cock immediately, scolding him for his loudness with your stern expression.

Your eyes quickly darted around the room, looking for a particular item. Bingo. You quickly grabbed your panties from beside your sweaty bodies and stuffed them into Jisung’s mouth without hesitation, a surprised gasp emitting from his mouth at the suddenness of it all.

“If you want to cum again you have to be a good boy for me and take what I give you, ok?” Under you, Jisung nodded instantly, a muffled “yes” slipping from his lips.

Once again, you wrapped your hand around Jisung’s cock, a muffled hiss coming from the boy beneath you. His cock was so sensitive from orgasming twice already, he didn’t think he could handle your fist wrapped around his cock for long before he exploded again.

You started pumping your closed fist around his dick slowly while paying attention to his facial expressions. He was fucked out already, eyes shut tight in the pain and pleasure you had reigned upon him.

Suddenly moving faster, a choked moan escaped his lips, hips bucking up to fuck himself into your hand faster. Your hand felt so good, Jisung was in absolute euphoria at the feeling.

You didn’t try to stop him from fucking himself into your hand, you just watched him; watched as hot tears slipped down his face from the overwhelming sensation called you.

Strangled moans and the slickness of your fist jerking Jisung off with fervor were the only audible sounds in the room.

You could tell Jisung was close by the way his muffled groans grew louder, and the way his thrusts into your hand began to get sloppy was an unmistakable sign of his incoming orgasm.

“Oh my god- shit, please don’t stop” Poor Jisung. He had no idea what you were planning, did he?

“I’m so close” And just like that, your hand was off of his dick once again.

Jisung cried out into your panties, begging you to let him cum. He looked like an absolute mess; misplaced pieces of hair, tears streaming down his face, the red tint on his skin. It was all because of you, and the thought turned you on to no end.

“Shhh, it’s okay baby. I think you deserve your reward now. Think you can handle it?”

Immediately, he was nodding, the only source of communication between the two of you. You watched as Jisung tensed up under your touch as you placed your hand back onto his sensitive dick for the last time that night.

Deciding it had been long enough, you removed your panties from Jisungs mouth, a trail of spit latched onto them from the boy's mouth.

“I can’t take it, please… please I’m so close.” Jisung was whimpering under you, his legs twitching from the amount of pleasure he was receiving from your actions. Tears stained Jisungs cheeks as he begged for you to let him come undone, and you wanted to reward him for being so good for you tonight.

You stroked his tears away and used your free hand to latch your fingers through his own in reassurance, letting him know he could finally explode. “I’m gonna cum- fuck-“ a harsh moan began to rip through his throat, your lips immediately silencing the noise with a passionate kiss as he came in your hand, hips bucking in satisfaction.

When Jisung went completely still under you. Your fist finally left his now softening cock, a shudder leaving his body in unison with your actions.

Questioning his well-being, you lifted yourself away from his body, setting yourself on his upper thighs. “How about I get you cleaned up? Just stay right here I know you’re tired.”

Jisung whined as your warm body left his, searching for the right supplies to get him all cleaned up. As you returned, the poor boy was fast asleep on the blanket-covered floor, face stained with tear marks and a mess all over his abdomen.

Softly waking Jisung from his slumber, you cleaned him gently, soon offering him a pair of Haechan’s old sweatpants. “You can sleep in my bed with me if you want to Jisung.” You suggested, a soft tone that made his heart melt. A sluggish nod was all it took for him to come climbing into your bed with you, instantly tangling himself onto you for cuddles. He dozed off rather quickly, your hands softly cradling through his hair to help him have a good night's sleep.

“Xiaojun! Run me my motherfucking money!” Your body jolted awake at the sound of a familiar voice yelling down the hall, only to realize Yuta was standing in your doorway, a clear view of Jisungs face nuzzled into your chest fast asleep.

Jumping out of bed, you slapped Yuta on his shoulder playfully, a smirk etching its way onto your features, “Get out!” slamming the door and locking it in his face was your only source of privacy.

You yawned, turning back around to face your bed where Jisung lay, eyes now open and peering into your own. “So, about last night-” you started.

“I enjoyed it. I really did Y/n,” His sudden outburst surprised you but you remained silent, letting the boy finish. “I really want to do it again but uh- if you don’t want to we don’t have to... I mean...”

A smile made its way onto your face as he continued with his rambling, “... I just really like you and uh- I wanted to ask if you would like to go out with me sometime,” He looked away awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck in nervousness.

You could never reject a kind soul like Jisung, and he still had so much more to learn. You liked that idea. Going on a real date with Jisung after secretly crushing on him for almost three years.

“I’d like that Jisung,”

In all honesty, he was not expecting you to say yes. The boy jumped out of bed and ran to scoop you up into a tight, warm embrace that swept you off your feet. “I’m so happy you said yes,”

Jisung planted his lips against yours in a sudden kiss, but this time it was different. Last night your kisses were rushed and sloppy, but now, they were meaningful and soft.

Pulling away, the two of you stared into each other's eyes, and you realized you were both genuinely happy.

That was all that mattered to you.

A/n: This might be a little bad LMAO. Ya’ll, I’m a little bit rusty after going on my hiatus but I hope you still enjoyed reading <3

#park jisung #jisung park #park jisung smut #innocent jisung #nct #nct dream #nct u #nct dream smut #nct u smut #park jisung fic #nct smut #nct jisung #nct jisung smut #jisung nct smut #innocent park jisung smut #smut #kpop #fanfic by yu69ta

3K notes · View notes

sil-te-plait-tue-moi · 2 years ago

Text

Wedding-seasonal depression.

Quick summary: What if Pierce actually did get married to Wu Mei way back when in the second season? You and Jeff are both struggling to come to terms with the fact that this is Pierce’s eighth time getting married, while you’re both still sad and single and alone. You decide to take your frustrations out on each other.

Word count: 7.8K

Warnings: SMUT (you have been warned, this is essentially porn with a lil’ plot), but it's not like super kinky; lots of swearing; first time writing second-person, so buckle up, I guess; kind of angsty (??); many suppressed feels.

A/N: Hey, guys, what’s up 😃🌈🦶! Uhhhh, I know this fic is a little random, but I’ve literally had this story in my drafts for six months. Since then, I have finished the entire Community show and have brought you this gem of a smut fic for Jeff Winger (particularly Jeff Winger with a fuckin’ beard 😩😩😩 he’s such an asshole). Please excuse my horrible attempts at dirty talk. Also, this is the first fic I’ve written in second person, soooooo I’m sorry if it’s, like, bad. Okay, enjoy!! :)))

***

You know, the wedding is perfectly nice. You have nothing against weddings. Apart from the strangely sexist ceremonies (as Britta will agree), the giving away of the daughter to her new owner kind of thing, the virginal unveiling thing, they’re perfectly fine. There’s free alcohol, free food, dancing, friends – sounds pretty nice at first, doesn’t it? Yeah, you’d think that, wouldn’t you? Except, now, the only kind of enjoyment you can feel is the pleasure of yet another scotch burning its way down your throat. You’ve had three, now, and it’s only a matter of time before they start to kick in. And you don’t come to weddings just to get drunk, okay? Your friend is getting married today, and no matter how blatantly racist and sexist and homophobic he is on a daily basis, you want to support his happiness (Annie forced you to come).

The fact that it’s Pierce getting married (again) hasn’t really hit you yet. Pierce. Pierce who talks about women like they’re objects, who treats them like they have a fucking expiry date, who has had his shot at marriage several times before, is now at the altar again, having another wedding while some of you are left to wallow in your own self-pity and loneliness until the night’s end.

You ask the bartender for another scotch.

You swivel in your stool to survey the venue – tables are dotted all throughout the hotel’s expansive ballroom, swathed with elegant white tablecloths, with elaborate centrepieces of white lilies and tulips and curling ferns to adorn. The ceiling reaches up, up, up, and intricate moulding compliments and fills its area, leading to the elevated centre where a glimmering, twisting chandelier dangles, its large gems scattering rainbow light here and there around the room. It’s pretty – the bride knew what she was doing. Pierce had refused to get involved in any of the wedding preparation because, and you quote, “it’s a woman’s job”. When you asked him what a man’s job was, he had looked at you condescendingly, as if it were as plain as day, and said, “To attend the bachelor party, of course.” You didn’t blink or breathe for a whole ten, fifteen seconds, you believe – you thought he was joking at first. But you shouldn’t’ve underestimated Pierce and his miraculous ability to infuriate you. Lord knows why anyone would want to marry him.

Your table – the study group’s table – is right in the corner of the room. The location is a little questionable (you’re all pretty sure the bride detests you for being more important than she is to Pierce, and you don’t blame her at all—but, you know, she could’ve sat you a little closer to the snack bar is all you’re saying), and it’s not close to the altar, it’s not close to the buffet, or the bar, or the toilets, or the band. But, of course, the group has found its own way to keep everyone entertained. Abed and Troy have napkin hats placed on their heads, acting out some movie scene, you’re sure, and Britta’s well on her way to becoming black-out drunk by the time the vows start, and Shirley’s trying to figure out the recipe of the cheesecake Annie ordered, reaching over the table for another forkful and another and another, face scrunched up in deathly concentration as she tries to identify the ingredients by taste. Poor Annie, you think to yourself, but you’re smiling.

Your eyes immediately start searching for Jeff. It’s an unconscious thing that you do every time you enter a room. You just want to make sure he hasn’t done anything stupid yet. And if you know anything at all about him, he’s going to be glowering the whole night away, rolling around in his bitterness, torn between his jealousy that Pierce gets to be married (again) and between his fiery disdain of weddings. He’s just a little bit too much like you – that’s how you can foresee his scowl when he approaches the bar, how you just know his hands will be shoved childishly in his pockets, and that he’ll roll his eyes when some bridesmaid will stop him and ask how he knows the groom. It happens just like clockwork. Jeff thinks he’s some wildcard, but, in reality, he’s so predictable.

“I’m actually the head of what used to be his favourite escort business. He was one of my best customers, but, uh—” he hisses cynically, “—you can’t win ‘em all, can you?”

You smile. He’s predictable until he opens his mouth.

The bridesmaid looks absolutely horrified. She leaves promptly with wide eyes and an open mouth, trying to stifle a laugh for the sake of her friendship with the bride.

A self-satisfied look overcomes Jeff’s face – he’s probably laughing internally at one of his own jokes again – and then his attention shifts up over to you, and his gleaming eyes grace themselves upon yours. He’s such an ass.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself,” you snort, turning back to the bar and digging your nail back into this narrow groove in its mahogany surface – maybe, if you’re patient enough, you’’ll soon be able to carve your initials into it forever. Jeff steps up onto the platform that perimeters the bar, sighing from deep within his chest as he slumps himself forward in the viridian, velvet-cushioned stool beside you. “You could have at least pretended to be nice for a few seconds.” While your manner is joking, there’s an underlying seriousness to your words. He needs to stop introducing himself as a prick to everyone – it’s off-putting.

But he just grins over at you – it’s hard not to smile back. “That was me being nice, I’ll have you know,” he says meaningfully, “and it just kills me—” he slaps a hand right across his heart, “—to know you don’t think I’m genuine.”

“She looked abhorred, Jeff. Abhorred.”

He scoffs violently. “Don’t say she looked abhorred, okay? She did not look abhorred.” Then, a pause. Then, “What does ‘abhorred’ mean?”

Oh, Jeff. You’d think that, what with his lawyer days (or rather, his days faking a law degree), he’d have a better vocabulary than he actually does. You’re pretty sure he looks up fancy words in his free time, just to impress people, most of which he doesn’t even know. You can just picture it: Him, sitting in the armchair of his ridiculously clean apartment, a dictionary in his lap, a thesaurus to the side, trying to comprehend what “sporadically” means so that he can use it in class the day after. You haven’t proven this theory yet, and Jeff always avoids the question, but you’re 100% convinced that this act is entirely true.

“It means horrified, Jeff,” you deadpan. You watch him make a mental note to use that in conversation later.

He hums lowly, and you let out a long sigh. Wordlessly, the both of you turn your heads to look back at your table. There are a few, special moments in life where someone will resonate so much with another’s feelings that they feel as if the two of them have become melded together. The borders of their mind will collapse, and that shared emotion will just mingle between the two of them like a strange, little ghost. It’s like that now, with you. It’s a melancholy type of feeling. You both can’t quite place the sadness, even as you’re looking on at the happy study group, and you can say that, with confidence, Jeff feels lonely. Just like you. You can feel the ache in his heart.

But, as quick as the intimacy came, it disappears again. Jeff swallows hard and frowns down at the counter, clearing his throat before commenting drily, “So, this sucks, huh? The wedding and everything.”

You nod.

“I just don’t get why Pierce is the one who gets to get married. Like, why not one of us or something? It’s just kind of unfair.” And then he stops abruptly, inhaling sharply like he’s just broken some kind of code. You nudge him and ask if he’s alright, to which he responds with, “You’re not gonna tell any of the others about this, are you? I don’t want Pierce finding out and having one of his little tantrums again.”

“He wouldn’t throw a tantrum,” you smile, completely missing the trust he’s putting in you right now. “If anything, he’d gloat about how you, the Jeff Winger, are jealous of him.”

He scoffs exaggeratedly. “I am not jealous of Pierce.” Jeff doesn’t admit to being jealous of anyone, but it’s always obvious when he is – his sarcasm will somehow double, his face will squint up into a semi-permanent, sour expression, and his voice will up an octave or two if he’s feeling extra shitty. It’s always funny to see him try to keep it together. That man’s got an ego like no other. Under his breath, he finishes, “No more jealous than you are.”

Damn.

Truth is, even though you’re fucking bitter as can be about Pierce getting married, you know that you have no actual desire to ever enter matrimony. It’s not a Britta “fuck marriage as a whole” type of thing; it’s a “wow, someone is achieving something, and you are achieving nothing” kind of situation. What can you say?—it’s your toxic trait. Anyone “beating” you at anything is enough to discourage you from that sector as a whole. If you’re not naturally gifted, what’s the point? Not to say that Pierce is gifted at relationships. No, he’s just rich. It takes everything in you not to strangle him whenever he opens his goddamn mouth. But you just suck at navigating true, meaningful romantic connections with people, and having to watch Pierce enjoy a pretty party and tick off that milestone (again) is just a kick straight to the fucking vagina.

But you’re not going to say all that to Jeff Winger of all people. So, you suck it up, deepen your scowl, and say, “Ah, yes, ever since I was a foetus, my one goal in life has been to wed a person half my age so that they can drain me of my non-existent fortune and give me pity sex for the rest of my shrivelled-up, little life.”

“Can’t tell if that’s sarcasm or not, ‘cause that actually has been my goal since I was a foetus,” Jeff whips back, and you snort. His grin widens.

Stupid Jeff Winger and his stupid Jeff-Winger smile. You hate it when he does that with his fuckin’ face. It’s infuriating. He’s infuriating. You always feel it tugging at your stomach adamantly whenever you’re in his proximity and he does that, and it’s unsettling. Could be annoyance, could be something else. You’re not ready to explore that.

“Anyway, you wanna go find a back room and fuck?”

The words are so swift and casual that you have to take a moment to realise that that is not something normal people say when attending their friend’s wedding and having a conversation at the bar with their completely platonic other friend who has never before made any hints towards attraction.

You turn and blink hard at Jeff, your lungs buffering in your chest.

“What?” you stress to him.

He darts his eyes away from the great hall and shuffles them back to you like he has all the time in the world, like he hasn’t just said what he just said. He raises his eyebrows innocently and politely continues, “Oh, sorry, I just thought that was where this conversation was going.”

The commotion of the party, to your surprise, carries on as usual.

Your wrists are numb with shock, and they’re sparking with what you think might actually be excitement. Did Jeff really just say those words out loud? Are you angry about it? You can’t fucking tell.

Instead of addressing the problem, you swallow thickly, hoping he won’t notice, and ask through an incredulous scoff, “Is this how you get people to have sex with you?” Would you be mad about that? About the fact that he’s just asked, essentially, to sleep with you, right to your face, right in public, at Pierce’s wedding, where there are people that you know and that can see you clearly from where they’re sitting? God, do you look as thrown-off as you feel right now? You would hope to die before looking thrown-off in front of Jeff Winger. The very Jeff Winger that’s finishing your drink off for you and watching you amusedly from over the rim of the glass, smiling his fucking smile to himself as he watches you glitch and hesitate like a browser with too many tabs open.

“Don’t say the s-word,” he hisses patronisingly, narrowing his gaze, leaning closer to you, glancing warily around the room. “There are children.”

“You just said fuck.”

“Yes. Yes, I did. And also, would you like to?”

He’s analysing your expression with fond eyes, you see from your peripheral vision, setting your glass back on the counter gently as he waits, all patient, for your answer, for your reaction. This is probably the most patient he’s ever been in his life. It’s certainly the most patient you’ve ever seen him, and you’ve seen him through a lot.

You tell him (a little breathlessly), “You’re fuckin’ crazy.”

He lowers his voice. “Did I read the situation wrong?”

There’s a silence that’s far too long to be salvageable. Then, a flustered, “No.”

Jeff raises his eyebrows, like he’s impressed with himself, and he looks smugly up at the ceiling. Damn him, you think to yourself. And, sweet Jesus, he has pretty nice hands. You also think to yourself that he has—he has pretty nice hands. Nice hands fixing the cuffs of his shirt and jacket. Nice hands scratching at that awful thing he calls a beard. Nice hands shoved in his pockets all nice-like. Nice hands that you’re sure can do a lot of—nice—things. Jeff clears his throat, and your attention snaps back to where it belongs.

“So,” he drawls. “Back room?”

And just like that, his pick-up somehow works for you. Somehow, you end up stumbling into the janitor’s closest, and you’re shushing each other and telling each other to be quiet as he helps you on top of the wobbly desk. It’s clumsy and fast and you’re both more than a little drunk. “Ow!” he exclaims when you accidentally elbow him in the ribs. Maybe it’s that you’re both just extremely lonely at this wedding – you’ve both kind of realised that you may just have to spend forever alone, that Pierce has a better chance of getting married than you do, that happiness might not be for you after all. And that’s always a nice thing to hear. You just want solace, and both of you are fighting for that by getting it on in a barely sanitary janitor’s room. Think of it—as a favour for a friend. Yeah. You think, with Jeff, the Jeff who blunders over a bucket when he tries to kiss you, it’s just pheromones and genetics doing their thing. Skin-deep. That’s your excuse as you grab him by the tie and press your lips to his as he positions his arms either side of you to keep himself from falling. “Your hair smells kinda nice,” he tells you before he helps zip down your dress, and you slide down your underwear.

He goes down on you first, after you both mock each other about who you bet is gonna finish first. “Oh, I’ve spoken with Britta about you,” you’d said lowly, smiling, and his eyes filled with sweet, sweet defeat. “Yeah, she told me everything—One-Minute Wonder.”

And this had gotten little, insecure Jeff all riled up. “Alright,” he huffed, voice scraping against his throat like he hadn’t had anything to drink for a week. “Alright, we’ll see who cums first, then, huh, doll?” And instead giving you one of those classic Winger smiles, he whispered a request for permission to use his mouth on you. You didn’t even have a response to that. He kneeled down in front of you, hands eagerly spread on your thighs, and his breathing was slightly uneven as he awaited your answer. It made you feel some type of way. You gave a quick nod and shuffled forward to meet his hot mouth. When his tongue delved deep inside your cunt, all coherent thoughts went straight out the door, and now you’re weeping into the back of your hand and clenching down your teeth down on your fingers, trying your best not to cry out.

Now, there are a few things you do to try and stop yourself from finishing immediately: you try clenching your legs together, but this only makes Jeff moan right into your pussy, and that doesn’t do you any good at all; you pull lightly at his hair and scratch at his back and his neck and his arms, holding on for dear life, but he only grows more enthusiastic; and you try insulting him under your breath (“twat”, “asshole”), but he just chuckles into you, and you have to bite down on your knuckles all over again, wrestling with that increasingly violent fluttering feeling in your legs.

Near the end of it, you just give up that bet with Jeff; you’ll cum, you’ll finish first, you’ll lose the bet, and you’ll do whatever you can to get to it. You grind shyly, and then shamelessly, against Jeff’s face, finding a delicious friction with his beard, a lovely contrast to the soft, velvet slickness of his tongue – that is, until he uses his hands to press your hips firmly back down onto the table, rendering you powerless to his actions.

You’re just about to finish when he pulls away. You think it’s a mistake at first, trying to lower him back down onto you with your hand cradling his head, but then you catch sight of a shit-eating grin wanting to take over his face, and you whine out, “Jesus Christ, Jeff, don’t be mean!”

“C’mon, honey, I thought the point of the bet was to not cum. You don’t wanna lose, do you?” His chin is still slick with you and he’s talking to you like you’re not hot and flustered and half-naked for him in a fucking supply room, on the brink of an orgasm, legs shaking like there’s no tomorrow. What a fucking prick, you think to yourself. You’re still gonna fuck him, of course, but he’s still a prick to you, and nothing will ever change that. “What? Can’t talk anymore?”

“I’m about this close—” you narrow my index finger and thumb down to a microscopic space between, “—to leaving you alone in here with blue balls, Winger. You hear me?”

He stands up and massages your legs gently, almost tenderly, and makes you forget, just for a second, that you’re probably another one of his escapades, another one-night stand, just another girl for him to forget in the morning. “Aw, just look at you,” Jeff taunts, twisting his face up in mock-sympathy as you scramble to regain control. “You’re cute when you’re angry, you know that?” His nose brushes up against yours. He comes in real close and whispers against the shell of your ear, “You know, I think you just might get us caught, sweets. I think you’re gonna be crying out my name by the time we’re done, and all those wedding guests are gonna be shocked at the dirty things I’ve done to you and you’ve done to me. You think you’re gonna be able to walk right when they ask us to come out this room? Or do you think everyone’s gonna know how hard I fucked you in here, how I fucked you senseless, how I fucked you so good that you can barely sit down without thinkin’ ‘bout how my cock felt up inside of you?” Your clit throbs painfully. How can it not? You try to snake your own hand between your legs, but Jeff softly moves it away and kisses your shoulder. “Hmm? So, which is it?”

“I think I want you inside of me,” you say breathlessly, needily. Yes, you knew that Jeff likes to sleep around a lot, you knew that he was experienced, you knew that he knows how to get someone hot—but you didn’t really prepare for this. How many other girls has he had in the janitor’s room? How many other girls has he had at a wedding?

“I think I want to play with you for a little while longer,” he replies huskily, and you very nearly finish right on the table. You take his hand and guide it between your glistening thighs, taking him through the way you like to be touched, and he soon takes control, finding out what makes you squirm and what makes you bite into his shoulder and scratch at his back. Jeff has always been a person who loves knowing that he’s good at something, that he’s in charge, that he’s in control – it’s not hard to figure out he loves praise. So, when you tell him, “You’re doing so well,” and he kisses you roughly, hand in your hair, and pinches your clit, you take satisfaction again in his predictability. You yelp right into his mouth, brimming with smugness. Then, he dips a finger into your cunt, and maybe the attitude is punched out of you, but you lose a little respect for yourself with how eagerly you sigh out. After a while, he asks if he can add another, and you agree, grinding against the heel of his palm.

What you’re really scared of is that he won’t let you cum again, that he’s into edging, and that you’re going to be denied the sweet release you’ve been craving for what seems like years, now. “Let me cum, please,” you say, kissing his neck. “I’ll go down on you later, but just please don’t edge me again.” Ew. You hate how desperate you sound. You’re usually a little more dignified than this. Jeff’s there, quick-witted and sharp-tongued as always, and you’re sitting here, tongue-tied and helpless. This is sort of the most bottom you’ve ever been, give or take. With sex with other people, there was a mutual bond rather than a power dynamic, but, here, there’s a very clear distinction. It makes you a little uncomfortable. You’d feel, oh, so much better if it were you saying all those dirty things to Jeff, making him sweat with his cock on your tongue, being the one he asks for permission to cum. But you’re saving that fantasy for another time – you don’t have the willpower to do anything like that today, not when Jeff wants to be in charge right now.

And maybe it’s your imagination, but he grows just that little bit harder at the desperation in your voice. Maybe he should let you cum, since you asked so nicely. “You don’t have to go down on me,” he says, even though he’d definitely love to see your pretty, little mouth wrapped around his cock. Instead, he reaches down and starts to kiss and lick and suck and bite at your breasts, making sure to linger at the swell of them – he has an odd thing for that area between your side and your breast, that little swell, you both learn, and he strokes that area tenderly with one hand as he continues to fuck you with his fingers.

When you finish around his fingers, he licks them clean and wipes the rest on the little square handkerchief in his pocket. He’s going to save that for later, he decides. Say he gets hard at night thinking about you and needs the smell of you to get off—or maybe he’ll just tease you at the post-vows dinner and make eye contact when he presses the damp fabric against his nose, just to see you clench your thighs together. Who knows? You, on the other hand, are only just realising that he’s still fully clothed. You are as naked as the day you were born, and he’s still prim and smart and handsome in that navy-blue suit and tie.

Pulling him closer to you by his belt, you fumble with the buckle as you tell him, “I’ll go down on you.” You just want a grasp of control after him having seen you so bare, so vulnerable. You don’t know if you’ll be able to face him after this if you just don’t get his dick in your mouth right now – it’s a strange logic, yes, but there’s no stopping you.

Jeff watches you passively as you frantically undo his belt, somewhat enjoying seeing you so flustered and out of control. It doesn’t only feed into his desire and lust, but it also adds to that weird, warm feeling in his gut, one that he hasn’t really experienced before. He can’t quite figure out what it is – heartburn, maybe; indigestion? – but he’s not stupid, and he’s a little suspicious, so before his tipsy subconscious can come to that terrifying conclusion, he tells you, “Can you spread your legs for me?” At your surprise, he adds, “Please?” Just to be nice.

“So fucking demanding, aren’t you?” you huff, but you do as you’re told, gut wriggling with apprehension.

He kisses you nice and slow, storing this memory in his mind carefully for later, trying to be the most genuine he can because, at the end of the day, you’re his friend, his good friend, and he would never do anything to harm or lose you. If he’s going to fuck you, he’s going to do it nicely, the way you’d fuck a friend (I don’t know). You remove his jacket as he loosens his tie, and he unbuttons his shirt as you tug down his trousers and his underwear. He rifles through his wallet for a condom, and you make fun of him for carrying a condom in his wallet (“You’re such a skeez, Jeff.”; “Hey, you’re fucking this skeez!”).

You both have a brief moment, a brief pause, of should-they-shouldn’t-they – after all, you’re going to have to see each other practically every day after this, at school, at the study group, at lunch, at hangouts. But then, you tell him, “Well, get on with it, then,” and he e-e-eases into you, taking his goddamn sweet time with it, letting you grasp at his arms and his back and his waist and his neck and hair and face and chest. He loves how handsy you are. You try not to be so vocal – you don’t want his ego growing any bigger than it currently is – but your touchiness always gives you away. And it makes him feel special as well – you’re not the most affectionate person usually, and you rarely give out hugs and touches and pats like some of the other members of the study group, so the fact that you’re touching him so much and so freely makes him feel blessed.

When he thrusts up into you, you bite into his shoulder again, and he nearly loses it. There’s a sinful, explicit, wet noise that’s made when he moves in and out of you, and it’s almost enough to make him cum on the spot. He’s suppressing his moans, now, trying to do well for you, trying to be good, be strong, be satisfying enough for you.

“Good girl,” he chokes out when you whine high in your throat for him – he says it more to himself than to you, feeling the need to give praise after receiving it, wanting to make you feel as good as he is (say what you will about Jeff, but he’s respectful when he wants to be). But little does he know that you love being called that. Some weird insecurity issue is probably to blame, but you whimper for him and clench around his length, making his hips stutter and his pace falter. He decides to play around a bit, just to see how far he can push you while you’re sedated like this – usually, you’d be up to speed, quick and sharp-tongued and tough and sickly sweet, but, now, he has you a mess in his hands. “Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?” he chuckles darkly. “You’re such a good girl for me. Such a good—” he thrusts harder, “—little—” harder, “—girl.”

All you can do is gasp and try to take it well. You can barely form words – it’s like you’re drunk. Well, you are drunk. Of course, you know you’ll have a hard time getting rid of this picture – this picture of him panting and sweating, of his mischievously glinting eyes, of his large hands digging right into your hips and thighs and waist – and you’re probably going to get yourself hot later just thinking about it. You blame him. You blame him for all of it. He’ll probably forget about it in a heartbeat, you think to yourself. He’s Jeff Winger, after all – ladies’ man, professional man-whore, completely indifferent to everything all of the time. You try to plan ahead, try to plan for later when you’re sad and alone and hating your body and hating your life choices, but then Jeff moans breathily into your ear, and you’re right back in the moment. You curl your legs tightly around his waist, letting your head fall back as he takes further control.

“You know, I think this is the first time you haven’t had some comeback ready to go, isn’t it, hon?” he says, then softly biting your earlobe. You can only choke out a moan. “Thank you for that addition.”

You groan and roll your eyes. “I fuckin’ hate you,” you say in a feeble attempt to put up your guard again.

“No, you’re just fucking me, actually.”

You sob dryly into his shoulder, and Jeff starts to encourage you a little, probably the kindest he’s ever been during sex: “Come on, darlin’, why don’t you cum for me? You’re doing so well, you know that?” And that just sets you over the edge. You finish, body quivering, exhausted, and slump right forward onto Jeff’s chest. He somehow manages to hold on – he’s not done yet, and he’s going to want to drag this out for as long as he can, that much he knows. He plants his hands on the table, either side of you, and rests his head forwards on your shoulder, panting.

“Nice one, Jeff,” you say to him awkwardly. What does one say to the friend they’ve just fucked? There’s no right thing, of course, but you know straight away that that was definitely a wrong thing.

But he laughs. “We just fucked the shit out of each other, and that’s what you’ve got to say to me?”

“Well, what am I supposed to say?”

“I dunno,” he tells you, and he genuinely doesn’t.

You stay like that for a while, him laying light kisses on your shoulder and neck, you running your hand gently through his hair, both confused as to what to do now. That is, until you point out, “You’re still hard, huh?” You can feel him throbbing painfully inside of you. This must be torture for him – you’ve finished twice, now, and him none.

“Yeah,” he replies. “I was gonna wait for a better time, but.”

“I don’t think there is a better time in this situation.”

Jeff swallows thickly, throat suddenly dry as he pulls back and rests his forehead against yours. His dick twitches inside you when you grin up at him, and you pretend not to notice (but, oh, you’ll definitely remember it the next time you smile at him). He’s quite nervous, and he can’t pinpoint why. His brain’s just still a little too fuzzy to really process any coherent thoughts, even despite that sobering experience just then, but, again, he isn’t stupid – he knows what that knotted feeling in his chest probably is – so, before he has the chance to figure out what he already knows, he asks you, “Can you turn around? Bet you feel real good when I have you bent over this desk.”

“What a charmer,” you mumble under your breath. You know that’s about as sweet as he gets. You’re about to turn around for him when he surprises you:

“Of course, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He strokes your arms nicely. “We can go back to the party if that’s what you’d prefer, have a few more drinks, make fun of Pierce a little. Or we could try something you decide on. Got a favourite position? I’m sure we could make do with the space we have in here – maybe move a few buckets and boxes around, and we’re good. What do you like?”

Your mind goes completely blank, except for one very clear thought: “You’re what I like.” Not out loud, of course. You’d probably do anything he wanted right about now. You half-expect him to pull a 180 and say something snarky or sarcastic, but he doesn’t. He just kisses your cheek sweetly and waits for your answer. What do you like? You don’t even know anymore, and yet you’re getting wetter than ever before. Your breath is picking up, now. “You know,” you mumble, trying to contain your nerves, “the usual: a little light asphyxiation, a bit of hair pulling. I dunno. What else is there? I guess overstimulation can be nice sometimes. And, you know, I liked it—” a blush starts to form on your cheeks, “—I liked it when you...”

“Liked it when I what?”

“You know,” you huff frustratedly. “Said all those nice things to me.”

Jeff raises his eyebrows. “Praise?” Internally, he smiles to himself – he likes that he shares that in common with you. “Don’t worry, I like it, too.”

“Nice to know.” You maintain a neutral expression, but your clit is fucking beating right now, and your cunt is dripping wet. Your efforts not to clench around Jeff are herculean.

“Well, how do you want it?” he asks you brazenly, the usual Winger way. Okay, now, you squeeze tight around him, and Jeff presses his hands around your thighs in response—but, outwardly, the two of you are perfectly normal about this. “I can dial it back a little if you wanna take charge.” His eyes darken just slightly. “I don’t mind.” And that’s genuine enough – he certainly doesn’t mind the mental image of you with your fingers wrapped around his cock, teasing him as he whimpered and begged for a release, completely submissive to you in the moment. He wouldn’t mind that at all.

You grip the edge of the table and run a tongue over your teeth briefly. “I can turn around.”

“Really?” he asks. “You want to?”

“I want to.”

“Alright then,” he says, smiling. “Better get to it. We don’t want the others realising we’re gone, now, do we?” And you shake your head in response. Now that Jeff’s a little nicer, you’re more comfortable around him. He realises it, too, and so he allows himself to do the things he normally wouldn’t, brushing your hair out of your face for you and really looking into your eyes. Sex sort of became meaningless for him sometime along his life, full of emptiness and loneliness even in that intimate act – that’s the trouble he gets for sleeping his way out of his problems. And so, looking in his partner’s eyes has always brought him some type of shame – he’d always close his eyes and power through it. But you’re nice. You’re familiar. You’re safe and warm and soft. It might be a little to do with the friend thing, but, even when he was with Britta, he never felt this type of comfort, this okay-ness, this general acceptance. It was nice to have, for once: a friend.

He carefully pulls out of you, and then you turn around and bend over the table. Jeff almost stops breathing at the sight in front of him. And it’s not bad, don’t worry – he’s just a bit dramatic. “Jesus Christ,” he curses, and he moves his hands to massage gently at your hips. “You’re so fuckin’ wet.” And it’s true. Slick spills down your thighs, some of it slathered across the table and a fair amount dripping down onto the ground below them. That’s the type of stuff you see in pornos, he thinks amusedly to himself, and he continues to stare in awe at your cunt. Now, what Jeff really wants to do is to kneel down and lay his tongue flat against you. But he controls himself, and, instead, just sucks it up and praises you for it; “Keep that sort of energy up, yeah?”

“You sound like you’re a key-note speaker addressing an assembly of seven year-olds,” you say to him as he places his hands on your ass, spreading the sides apart slightly, his dick straining when he catches a better view of your aching cunt, and then he runs two fingers along your slit – he grows silent for a few heartbeats, amazed at how easily you drip down the length of his fingers and onto his wrist. You then turn back to see him place those fingers in his mouth, and you turn back around, blushing, before he can notice.

“Ah, so you’re into role-play?” he teases, lining himself up with your entrance.

“Sh—” but Jeff is already pushing into you, heavy and strong and thick; you try to continue your sentence without your voice shaking, “—shut u-up.”

He continues all the way to the hilt, and both of you use your hands to hold onto something for stability, his on your hips, and yours flat on the table. “You know,” he says as he bends over you, chest against your back, one hand coming to rest on the wall by your head, coaxing a pant or two out of you as he does so, “it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Role-play’s good once in a while.”

“Uh-huh,” you manage breathily. “You sound like you’re covering up a deeply concerning fantasy, there.”

“Don’t shame me.”

“We all know what it stands for, Jeff. ‘Role-play’s good once in a while.’ Really? Show me where you hid the goddamn body.”

He exhales amusedly through his nose. “I feel like you’re just trying to ease in with your officer-perp kink.” And he’s just casually gri-i-i-in-ding up against you, carefully pushing you back down so that your stomach is flat against the table, his lips pressing kisses into your hair and upon your shoulder blades as he starts to find a pace.

“It’s h-hot, okay?” you stutter out, trying to continue the conversation. It’s true enough – police officers can be hot when they want to be, and Jeff would certainly make for an interesting experience in that sector. Not that you were planning to sleep with him again. Fantasies are what’s discussed between a couple – it’s not really something you tell a one-night stand, especially if that one-night stand happens to be one of your closest friends who would never let you forget anything embarrassing you did—ever.

“Really?” Jeff says through a smile, though, now, even he’s having trouble composing himself. He should’ve cum when he could’ve – he feels like he’s about to give way any second, but he, oh, so wants to finish inside of you while you crumble apart around him. “Hands—” his breath catches, “—above your head.”

“I’m literally bent over a table in front of you.”

“Could still apply to some other positions, though.” And, with that, he begins to slowly pull out and push into you, nice and gentle at first, very controlled, but, as I said, Jeff was very quickly losing control, so one can imagine the animalistic desperation that soon kicked in for not just him, but for both parties. You buck up against him feverishly, letting out whines and suppressed, breathy moans and little, desperate whispers of his name (he absolutely loves those), and he just goes at it with all his energy. Who cares if he looks like absolute shit at the party later on? That’s a lot coming from him, he’ll have you know. As long as this memory is playing in his head, he doesn’t care about his hair or his suit anymore (the suit might be a stretch). He tells you breathlessly, “You know, you look good like this. Such a pretty girl.”

There’s the praise that you love. You squeeze around him and pant, “Take a picture—” and Jeff slides a hand between your legs, rubbing at that golden spot, and you have to choose between pressing into his cock or into his hand; the indecision makes your head reel, and the continuation of your sentence is twisted high and quiet, “—it’ll la-ast long-e-er.”

“Is that an invitation, doll? ‘Cause I’m not exactly against it.”

He pounds and pounds into you, nice and firm and precise, until you’re mewling and whining for him. “Be quiet, now,” he whispers against your ear – there are people chattering outside the room, passing through the exit after the party. But you can’t exactly keep it in. You try to hold your breath, you really do, but you end up grunting out when Jeff kneads at one of your breasts. “What?—d’you want those people to hear you or something? You wanna get caught?” You whine suppressedly again. “I bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you? Dirty girl.”

You clench once again, so fucking close to cumming, and he asks, “Can I try something?” And you nod frantically, alongside giving him a rushed, weak verbal affirmation. “I want you to prop yourself up a little more, hands on the wall – can you do that for me?”

“Uh-huh,” you mutter, adjusting yourself, and, with your movement, Jeff groans and grips your hips tightly.

“Good girl,” he praises, kissing the place behind your ear. And he continues thrusting, and then swiftly lifts one of your legs right up into the bend of his arm, leaving you to press the side of your face into the wall, your entire body swaying with the sheer force of the rutting of his hips. You feel so full like this, and he’s reaching that heavenly spot inside of you. Your knee gently brushes against his corresponding shoulder whenever he moves into you, out of you.

“Shit,” you curses sharply when he roughens his pace. “Jeff.” His name comes out as an awfully high-pitched sigh.

He huffs, “Yup, that’s me, doll.”

“You’re such a prick.”

“You could at least wait until I’m not inside of you to insult me.”

“Tell me something nice.”

“Something nice? I dunno if I can muster it up – all the things I’m thinking aren’t exactly nice. Definitely not things I’d say to anyone’s grandma.”

“Well, then, be mean,” you chuckle, and he jerks inside of you. “I don’t care.”

“You like getting off on my voice, do you?” His voice is nice and low and gravelly, and it practically grates against your pussy in some magical way, and your whole body shudders beneath him. He keeps at that perfect pace, pressure, and you commend him for his technique, you have to say. “You ever think about me when you touch yourself?” You nod. “Such a perfect, little girl. Fucking perfect.”

And he’s got a good-ish look at your face from this angle. Your eyes are closed in ecstasy, mouth open in silent pleasure, and you’re chasing, chasing that feeling. He can’t help it. He cums. And you follow immediately after – your fists screw up uselessly against the wall, and your legs quake and quake, and you squeeze so impossibly tight around him that he lets out a choked moan at how good it feels. He continues sloppily thrusting up into you, helping you ride out your orgasm while also riding out his own. “God, you’re hot,” he mutters, smiling.

You grin back at him, and his cock twitches again – it’s instinctive, he swears. “You’re not so bad either,” you reply, eyes shimmering in the dim light. Those eyes flutter shut again when he carefully pulls out of you with a sinful, wet noise.

Shit, he thinks to himself as you slip your soaked underwear and your pretty, green dress back on.

Shit, he loves you, doesn’t he?

After he’s put his suit back on, you help to adjust his tie, and he has to try his very, very hardest not to blush. He’s pretty sure you notices anyway, but it’s the effort that counts, right? He really, really wants to kiss you, but he doesn’t know if he should. The one-night stand is over, right?

“Call me tonight?” you ask after a brief pause. Was that the correct thing to do? You and Jeff call sometimes, obviously, when he’s at the store and wants to ask if you want anything, or when you want to order a pizza for yourself but get too nervous and ask for his help—but this’ll clearly be different. Are you still friends? Of course, you know you’re still friends, sure, but is it still the same?

And his heart rate has picked up significantly. You want him to call you. You want to talk to him later. “So you can get off to my voice?” You laugh. He made you laugh. He just made you laugh. The sound is like music to his ears. “I’m not a phone sex line, you know. Not a free one, anyway. If you want my services, you’re gonna have to pay.”

You’re smiling. “What’s your price?”

“$100, give or take.” He neatly folds his pocket square back up and places it into his breast pocket. Like he said, he wants to save it for later. He’s not sure for what, but it seems important to him now. And then, what he bumbles out next is said on a whim – the words are quiet and shy. Yes, shy. Jeff Winger is shy. He’s blushing. His stomach is full of butterflies. “Can I come visit your room instead?”

“Yeah, but it’ll cost you $100, give or take.”

Jeff approaches the door, and you line up behind him. “Ready?” he asks you. And you grab a fistful of his suit jacket from behind, going up on your toes, and kiss him lightly on the corner of his mouth in response.

He doesn’t even notice that you wrinkled his suit. He just closes his eyes and turns around for another kiss.

(Spoiler alert: You don’t end up seeing each other in your hotel room because Britta gets black-out drunk and nearly starts a vodka fire on the bride’s dress, so Jeff has to take her to get her fucking stomach pumped. But he gives you a call, and you come, and you sit together by Britta’s bedside as she sleeps. You talk about weird hospital experiences you’ve had, and then you fall asleep. He lets you rest your head on his shoulder.)

#jeff winger x reader smut #jeff winger x reader #jeff winger #community #pierce hawthorne #abed nadir #troy barnes #britta perry #shirley bennett #annie edison #have fun with this #i have no idea why i wrote this #but i do love it #also i’m very proud of the title

454 notes · View notes

jungkxook · 4 years ago

Text

—hot boy bummer. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ genre: fuckboy!jungkook / friends with benefits / friends to lovers + smut

⟶ words: 14,633

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: when jungkook offers you a proposition of just sex, no strings attached, how can you possibly say no? after all, what are best friends for?

⟶ warnings: kind of a crack fic, sprinkle of angst, way too casual conversations mid-sex, jealous jungkook, slight himbo jungkook tbh (he’s kind of a sweet loveable idiot), he also has a big dick oops, man bun and blonde jungkook to feed my fantasies!, multiple smut scenes!!!, missionary, dry humping, oral sex (m receiving), face fucking, unprotected sex, slight degradation (mostly jungkook hating himself), brief name calling, light choking, sort of praise kink

⟶ note: this was inspired by a number of things but mainly do me by kim petras being on jungkook’s spotify playlist, this tiktok sound, and this tumblr post lol also big thank you to @bratkook and @onherwings for letting me ramble on about this fic and reigniting my inspo for it 💛

( p.s. i tried to proofread this but if y’all see any typos no u didn’t, thank u <3 )

Being friends with Jungkook meant a myriad of things but mainly that there were hardly ever any boundaries that stood between you and him.

Having known him for most of your life, it was just a quintessential part of yours and his relationship with one another. From high school parties where you drunkenly spewed on his shoes and in his dad’s car after he tried lugging you home (and taking the fall all himself for your sake) to letting him lose his virginity in your bed to some girl you didn’t know because your parents were out of town and his would crucify him on the spot if they had found out; or him discovering your stash of vibrators in your dorm one day, or seeing each other naked more often than was probably necessary, there was nothing that either of you could do that would phase the other at this point even when it maybe, probably, definitely should.

College, and Jungkook’s sudden six pack of hard rock abs, only seemed to amplify the chaos of your friendship. If you’re being honest, the abs are sort of a plus ━ but they brought an air of fuckboy to him that is undeniably there even if he tries to deny it sometimes. You suppose it isn’t all his fault. Jungkook has always been bold and brash, attractively charming. Considering he’s seemingly made it his mission to sleep with every girl on campus before he graduates (undisclosed, if you’re being honest, because he’s never outwardly admitted it but you have a hunch), his confidence somehow hasn’t failed him yet.

But then there’s one night in which you think to yourself briefly: this surely must draw some sort of line.

“What if we, like, had sex?”

Jungkook says this a little too casually from beside you. He’s sat on the couch in his dorm, scrolling aimlessly on his phone, and you’re sprawled out on the remaining space, feet kicked up in his lap. You’re positive he’s drunk but, then again, so are you. The remnant shot glasses of soju you had both started the night with (though you think Jungkook’s had half the bottle himself), and your second glass of wine, are all evidence of that. You’re so absorbed by some anime Jungkook had been watching upon your arrival and refused to change that you almost don’t hear what he says. Almost. You do, however, nearly choke on the gummy bear you’ve just tossed into your mouth.

After a sudden hysterical fit of coughs, you manage to sputter, “Excuse me?”

“Like, hypothetically speaking.” He hardly budges when you turn to gawk at him, as if he’s asking you something as casual as what to eat for dinner or if you could pass him the T.V. remote. “Except, not really hypothetically.”

“You’re joking, right?” You scoff.

Jungkook blinks. “No. Why would I be joking?”

You blink. The longer you stare at him, the quicker you’re able to discern that there’s some sort of earnesty in his words and it slightly concerns you. Suddenly, you’re warm in the face. To distract from that painfully obvious fact, an incredulous laugh bubbles at your lips and you kick one of your feet at his thighs. “Very funny, Koo. Can we change the show now if you’re not even watching it?”

“I’m not joking, Y/N.” The severity in his tone makes you sit up at once. When you turn to look at him, he flashes you a taunting smirk, though the devious sparkle in his eyes lets you know this seems to be anything but a joke to him. “I’m sure you’ve thought of me naked before.”

“You’re such a fucking idiot━” Okay, so maybe you have thought of him naked before but how is it your fault when you literally have seen him naked before, and he’s so unabashed around you? “Should I bring you to a hospital to get your head checked, or━?”

“Just hear me out━” Now, he pushes himself to the edge of the sofa. “Why are you here right now?”

“In life? Because I honestly have no clue━”

“No, I meant here. Getting drunk in my apartment on a Friday night instead of getting railed.”

“Okay, I didn’t ask to get called out like that,” You grumble stiffly. “And because you’re my best friend, and I like spending time with you.” It’s not entirely a lie, because you would much rather spend time with Jungkook than anyone else. But when you feel his eyes boring into you in a look of scrutiny, your lips form into a pout which you try to hide by puckering them. “Also because boys are stupid and Hoseok’s blind date stood me up. Again.”

The events from hours earlier resurface in your memory, in which you had spent all evening making yourself look pretty for a boy you had only talked to through text that your roommate had introduced you to, only to arrive to the restaurant you were supposed to be meeting at and waiting there for half an hour by yourself before the boy had sent you a message saying something along the lines of “something came up, hope we can reschedule,” filing it under one of the lamest excuses you’ve ever heard because it hardly even borders on a valid excuse. It’s what had ultimately made you storm into Jungkook’s apartment an hour ago, exclaiming aloud as a greeting with a simple yet scarily cheerful I hate men! because Jungkook knows all about your plights with finding a significant other (or even just someone decent enough to open your legs to), usually lamenting men’s inability to have any emotions. Even the ones who you think are respectable enough, who say they’re fine not having sex on the first date, usually tend to flee right after you finally let them in because sex, as you come to find, seems to be all that men care about.

Admittedly, Jungkook is not any different.

“But it’s not like you’re any better.”

This seems to personally offend Jungkook. He looks at you cynically. “Me?”

“Tell me why you’re here with me on a Friday night when you’re literally one of the hottest guys on campus,” You point out. “You can get any girl, and yet you somehow manage to ruin it every single time. Like with Eunha.”

Jungkook winces. The poor Eunha in question is a pretty girl from your chem class, whomst Jungkook had somehow managed to charm. From what you know, they had hooked up a handful of times before that fateful night in which Jungkook had abruptly broken things off with her. If you’re being honest, he’s not a total monster. The only thing that seems to scare him away is when a girl asks to cuddle him in the morning or talks about the prospective future together. He doesn’t want to hurt them, he told you once before, and finds it much easier to nip any potential relationship in the bud before it can get too far, too out of control.

“We literally only slept together three times anyway and we never went out,” Jungkook points out. “What’s the big deal?”

A roll of your eyes doesn’t go unnoticed by Jungkook. “Yeah, it’s not her fault you’re scared of commitment.”

“Nu’uh,” The boy sulks. “I’m only scared of realistic things, like microwaves.”

A snort bubbles at your lips, and it’s frustrating how adorable he finds the simple action. Rather than entertain the thought of his irrational fear of kitchen appliances (because you’ve heard it all before, and you still can’t find where he was incited with the terror of an exploding microwave), you sit up.

“Jungkook, I don’t even like you like that.”

“I don’t like you like that either. That’s why it’s so perfect!” Jungkook says brightly. “Look, we know each other better than anyone else ever could. We’re already comfortable with each other. We don’t have to go through all that boring small talk. All I’m saying is we could give it a try. No relationship, no emotions, just sex.”

You consider the thought for a moment, weigh the pros and cons in your head.

The cons? He’s your best friend.

The pros? He’s your best friend, and he’s hot.

Truthfully, your slightly buzzed mind can find very little to dissuade you away from the inviting proposition and maybe that’s why you begin to entertain the idea. And, sure, you had just complained profusely about how men sometimes only used you for sex, but it’s not like you don’t have needs too. You just don’t have the gusto in you anymore to spend days on a boy who will only just leave you the moment you let him have sex with you. At least with Jungkook, he’s already offering you a blatant deal of sex only and you know you won’t have to worry about him breaking your heart; and he doesn’t have to worry about the dreaded dreamy post-sex cuddle talk of a future family and babies and a white picket-fence home. It’s a win-win for the both of you, really. Or maybe you’re just telling yourself that.

“How would we even start?” You ask finally. “I mean… Do you even find me attractive enough in that way?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook hardly bats a lash. He meets your stare, licks slowly at his lower lip. When he sees the cross look of disbelief scrunching at your face, he hastens to respond. “I’m not blind. You’re fucking drop dead gorgeous, Y/N.”

“But physically attractive? I’m no hot girl Eunha.”

“If I wanted Eunha, I’d be between her legs right now. Y/N, of course I think you’re attractive.” A gentle sliver of a smile dances upon his lips. He leans his head on the back of the couch, eyes fluttering over your appearance shortly. “I’ve always liked your lips, and your eyes. Think they’re beautiful.”

Suddenly, you’re flustered again. The room feels as if it’s getting increasingly warmer, yet you seem to want to bask in the feeling and attention a little longer. “That’s too sentimental.”

“It’s true though.”

“Well, you’re lucky I’ve always had a thing for idiots,” You jest playfully. “Jerks, too. Playboys who are too hot for their own good.”

“Ah, and I love it when you talk dirty to me.” A cheeky grin tugs at his lips as he clutches at his heart over his chest. “It’s a good thing I like it a little too much, knowing you’ll always keep me in check.”

But then the mirth seems to fade from your mind long enough for you to hum aloud pensively, “And I’ve always liked your eyes. I’ve never seen such big eyes before. Sometimes, if I look long enough, it’s like I can see the stars in them.”

As you’re speaking about them, his irises glisten magnificently. He bites at his lip now, as if to hide the way his soft smile turns sheepish. “I like your bum.”

“Really? I always worry it’s too flat.”

“Are you kidding? Your ass is a fucking god-send. It’s hard not to stare when you wear leggings sometimes,” Jungkook admits, earning a small giggle from you. “And I like your boobs. I’ve always wondered…” He trails off abruptly, shaking his head. He shoots you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop. I’m being an idiot, aren’t I?”

“Well, maybe I don’t want you to stop.”

Silence saturates the room now, settling comfortably between the two of you. He wonders what you’re thinking, and you wonder if he can hear your heart hammering against your chest. Perhaps on any other day when you were of sound mind, you could find a plethora of reasons as to why sleeping with your best friend was a terrible idea. But being that you were slightly tipsy, and Jungkook isn’t far off, you can find not one fault, except for maybe how tragically hot Jungkook looks sitting across from you and how he’s never been yours, at least in that way. Would it be so wrong to try just once?

You shift then, pushing yourself to your knees if only so you can worm your way towards him before swinging one leg over his. You settle back on his lap, hands gripping his shoulders. He can feel your core press against the inside of his thigh, just where his dick is nestled and he has to bite back a moan. His eyes are wider than usual, as if believing the moment to be surreal, though something sultry threatens to darken them.

“Y/N…”

The excitement crackles through your veins like electricity. You’ve never been in such a compromising position with Jungkook before, and you wonder if it should be concerning just how much you’re enjoying it. It almost feels as if time slows down, every second dragging on, yet he can’t look away. His hands come to tug at your hoodie (that he’s almost positive was his once upon a time before you nicked it from his closet) and you meet him part way, replacing his efforts as you pull it up and off your body. Then, you’re sitting back on his lap in your full nude glory, chest bare and right in his face. He eyes the swell of your breasts, the perk of your nipples. Of course you’re not wearing anything beneath your hoodie ━ and, god, he loves it.

“Touch me?”

Your voice comes to him in an almost dream. You reach for his hand then, your palm soft around his knuckles and the tattoos that ink his skin. It’s the same hand of which he wears the other half to your pair of friendship bracelets in one of his favourite colours of red, decorated with little pink hearts. It came in a matching set of two (yours in your own favourite colour, currently on the wrist of the hand you’re using to guide Jungkook’s), cute little macrame braid ones with hearts woven into the design that you had pointed out one day while you were both at the mall and he had bought without any hesitation mostly as a joke but resulted in both of you wearing them on a daily basis.

Now, all he can do is continue watching you with bated breath as you guide his hand right where you both want him. He comes to cup the underside of one of your breasts, your hand over his pressing his fingers tighter together until you can feel some sort of pleasant pressure. And, just like that, something feral and needy seems to snap within him. His hand slithers from your grasp if only so he can flick his thumb across your nipple, mesmerized by the softness of it. He’s only ever seen you naked once before and it was fleeting. You were both drunk, skinny dipping in a lake with a handful of other friends, but it had been too dark to notice much else. But now? Now, he can see all of you and the sight strikes a chord right down to his dick.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” Jungkook groans.

“Koo.” The cute little nickname you had given him sounds dirty now as it slips from your lips in a moan. “Too sentimental.”

But Jungkook isn’t listening because you really, really, really are so beautiful. He bows his head to your chest, catching one of your nipples in his mouth. He murmurs something against your chest that sounds akin to, “We can take things slow.”

“Slow…” Your head is spinning, but it’s a delightful sensation. Something hard pokes against your ass now, and the adrenaline only seems to build within you. It’s odd how everything feels so foreign ━ exploring his body and these newfound feelings like the uncharted territory it is ━ yet secure and safe at the same time. As if you know what to do next, where to touch next, how to move, your bodies almost fitting together like pieces to a puzzle. “Y-Yeah, I like that. Can I move?”

“Fuck, yes, please,” he growls. He’s much too busy nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin on your chest, teeth tugging at your nipple.

You hurry to obey, giving a small experimental swivel of your hips that almost immediately has the both of your inhaling a sharp breath of air. His dick strains against his sweatpants, the material doing very little in protecting him against you. Your core throbs as you rub yourself on him.

“Like this?” You rasp.

“Yeah, just like that.” Jungkook’s head rolls back onto the couch, his eyes squeezing shut and his blonde hair spilling into his eyes. He clenches his jaw, the nerves fluttering in the corner, as pure euphoria riddles his features. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything so sexy. “Fuck, we probably shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Yeah,” You agree, breathless. “Do you wanna stop?”

“No. Do you?”

“No.”

“Thank god.” The sigh of relief that emits from Jungkook startles even him but, in the heat of the moment, he doesn’t register how any of this could be a mistake. “Ah, shit━ Faster━”

“Mmm, Koo━” You whimper as you quicken your pace, the vulgar harbored thought of his dick in you thrilling you to no end.

“Fuuck, I’ve never heard you sound like this before. So needy, so desperate,” Jungkook grunts, his fingers digging into your hips. And it’s all because of him, the way you’re feeling. He’s never wanted to hurry to please you faster, itching to tear you apart if he’ll get to hear those noises from you again and again. “I━”

He’s gonna cum, and he’s not even in your pussy. What’s gotten into him?

He presses you a little harsher against his dick, sitting up straighter so that his chest is pressed flush against yours. He leans forward, lips chasing after yours, before you pull back just enough sluggishly to press your finger to his mouth.

“Uh uh. No kissing,” You rasp.

The words process in Jungkook’s head, but the weight of them don’t seem to linger in his daze. He’s far too overwhelmed by you and the way you’re making him feel to even begin to try to decipher why you avoid his mouth and so, for now, he doesn’t care. Instead, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, nose nuzzling against your throat. You clutch at his hair, tugging at the roots tight enough for him to moan.

“Nnngh, Jungkook━” You whine. “I’m gonna━ Oh, fuck, Koo━”

And then you’re unravelling, right in his very arms. He holds you close as you tremble and shake, rutting your hips sloppily against his to ride out your high, and Jungkook thinks he can definitely get used to this. The familiar burn forms in his stomach and, without even thinking of it, he comes in the confinements of his pants.

But in the heat of the moment, he doesn’t notice quite a lot of things. Neither do you.

So, maybe you could both find a hundred and one reasons why having sex with your best friend would surely cross some lines, but the thing with you and Jungkook (and what would eventually blossom into a hubristic relationship of sorts) is that it wasn’t just sex. You would always be comfortable around him, as he would be with you. And nothing could ever possibly get weird between the two of you ━ not when you had both made a promise to each other that it wouldn’t get in the way of your friendship.

Because ━ while, yeah, he’s hot and suffers from fuckboy tendencies from time-to-time and, aside from random late night hookups ━ he was still the same boy that would drag you out at three in the morning to drive to the next city over for a bowl of ramen, who would marathon shows as long as One Piece or Game of Thrones with you, watching as much as you can in one all-nighter; who would come to your dorm, no matter the time of day, the moment you said you were sick or suffering from cramps, piled high with your favourite snacks; who shared a repertoire of silly inside jokes with you that never made any sense to anyone but the both of you; who insisted you both wear friendship bracelets even in college. He would always be an angel to you, treat you well, because you meant that much to him.

A small thought in the back of Jungkook’s head wonders, above all else, if you were anyone different, would he have even bothered suggesting such a ludicrous idea, drunk or not?

Because he’s positive no one else could make him cum in his pants like a horny prepubescent teen ━ no one except for you.

“If we’re really gonna do this, we need to set some ground rules.”

Admittedly, neither you nor Jungkook knew what would happen after Jungkook’s proposition to you. Maybe you were expecting the two of you to pretend as if nothing had ever happened, or laugh it off as something so inconsequential that neither of you should bother worrying about it. Instead, the very next day, you find that you’re back in Jungkook’s dorm. Only this time, you’re in his bed, and he spent the past half hour sufficiently eating you out.

Now, you’ve had an epiphany in the form of Jungkook’s dick, and that is that it’s big.

You’ve seen it before on occasion ━ like when he streaked nude across campus as a dare or when he needed to use your shower because his apartment was under maintenance and he walked out on you in the living room ━ but this is clearly a very different circumstance. All red, swollen, angry tip wet and glistening with precum. You had to brace yourself as he pushed himself into you, cautiously and slowly, enjoying the way you stretch to fit around him. If you had a drunken excuse the night before for loving the thought of getting off with Jungkook, then you surely don’t have one now. It’s a shameless guilty pleasure, you think, that he’s at least indulging in.

“Rules,” Jungkook scoffs now. “You’re such a nerd. Fuck, you feel so fucking good━ You doing okay?”

More than. Your head lolls back against his pillow, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head. “Mhm.”

“Want a minute?”

“Maybe.”

Jungkook pauses without any hesitation, gnawing on his lower lip as your walls clench around him so tightly he feels he might fall apart then and there. His hands are on your hips, thumbs rubbing comforting circles against your burning skin. A few deep breaths later and you’re probing Jungkook to move again. His hips rut into yours at a leisure pace, and he marvels for a moment at the way his dick disappears into your pussy, slick and wet with your own arousal. The thought of being in you ━ of finally feeling your walls wrapped around him, all wet and snug ━ is enough to make him bust then and there, but he refrains miraculously.

“Holy fuck,” You groan. “Why are you so big━”

Your voice cuts off into a delightful whimper, walls aching around him. Jungkook snorts, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck. “Nothing sexier than hearing you stroke my ego.”

“Don’t let it get to your already big head,” You retort sluggishly.

“Big head!” he grumbles against your throat, lips brushing faintly against your skin and sending shivers down your spine. “Insult me some more. You know how it gets me going.”

“Oh my god, shut up. Where were we?”

“Rules.”

“Right,” You breathe in a sharp inhale of air as he grinds against your hips. “And rule number one is no kissing. That’s way too intimate.”

Jungkook quirks a brow. “How is kissing more intimate than having my dick in you?”

“It just is.” You refuse to tell him the truth. You poke your fingers at his sides, causing him to jerk against you. “Don’t question it.”

“Fine. Then no sentimental shit in general, like cuddling or pet names,” Jungkook retorts. “And no public displays of affection.”

“Okay,” You nod. “Fuck, Jungkook━”

“God, I love hearing you moan my name,” Jungkook grunts. He watches with fascination the way your face reacts at his every movement. “Too much?”

“No. Kinda hot,” You admit. An abrupt thought pops into your head that has you murmuring hazily, “Oh, and you can’t have sex with me to your sex playlist.”

Jungkook looks appalled. The sex playlist in question is one you’ve heard briefly before, if only because you’ve walked in on Jungkook and his flavour of the month a handful of times one too many times.

“So you’re telling me you don’t want to have the best orgasm of your life to The Weeknd or the Neighbourhood? WAP?” Jungkook asks, wriggling his brows suggestively. “Alanis Morissette?” You have less than half a second to register the 90s pop singer as out of place before Jungkook breaks out into song with a brief rendition of Head over Feet. “You’re my best friend, best friend with benefits━!”

Part of you knows he’s joking, but there’s still a small sliver of you that makes you gawk at him dubiously before dissolving into a fit of unabashed laughter. It rumbles against his chest, vibrates his dick in you. “You’re not serious, are you? That’s not actually in your sex playlist, is it?”

He flashes you a shit-eating grin. “Guess you’ll never know now.”

Another roll of your eyes makes him snicker. He’s gotten used to your snide remarks, but he’ll gladly keep suffering under them if he gets to wipe that taunting smirk off your face each time with the way his dick makes you feel. You cling a little tighter to his shoulders and muse aloud, “So that’s it then?”

“Yeah━” Jungkook knows you’re referring to the rules and your plan, although it’s getting harder to focus on talking as he continues to grind against you. “And nothing has to change between us, even if we stop. We’re still just two best friends.”

“Yup.”

“Who have sex from time to time.”

“Yeah.”

He can’t help himself. He tries again. “Who might kiss.”

“Nope.” You’re smiling even despite the way you shoot him an aggravated stare first.

“We might?”

“No, we definitely won’t.”

Worth a shot, he thinks to himself. At least you really do always keep him in check.

After all, what are best friends for?

So, maybe a part of you thought the shift in your relationship with Jungkook wouldn’t last very long. A week at most, and maybe Hoseok would find you another pointless let down of a blind date to go on and Jungkook would get horny for some other girl ━ but it’s certainly been more than a week now, and you’ve had sex with him more than two times.

A third, and a fourth, if you’re being blatantly honest, and maybe a few more times after that but you don’t really remember what count you’re both on now which should probably be concerning. Days elapse into days, which turn to weeks, then months. Morning, afternoon, and night.

It’s not as if you hadn’t already spent almost every waking moment with Jungkook but now you had a reason to be at his apartment at any and all hours of the day and not solely for movie watching marathons. You’re positive he’s still having his occasional random flings, though you’re fortunate his commitment issues at least force him to go to their homes rather than his for the most part, so you never really have to witness half-naked girls stumbling out of his apartment just as you’re wandering in. He says it has something to do with how his bedroom is his sacred space, though you think it’s more like he wouldn’t want his hook ups discovering his Overwatch figurines or something (because, before Jungkook’s proposition, you’ve walked in on him once and a girl when they were entangled on the couch in his living room).

But you’ve noticed lately you’re getting too comfortable with your arrangement with Jungkook; too comfortable knowing he’ll be there at the end of a long day to greet you, to please you until you’re crying out his name. Sometimes he tells you about the girls he’s texting, or shows you a picture from a hot girl’s Instagram whose D.M.s he’s just slid into. And sometimes you’re left wondering how often he comes straight to you after hooking up with a random girl.

It shouldn’t matter to you, and you swear that it doesn’t.

Maybe you’re just overthinking things. Hoseok certainly seems to think so, but his judgement wasn’t much to go by.

Because, lately, Hoseok has been encouraging you more and more to give Yukhei (the blind date Hoseok had initially set you up with when you found yourself at Jungkook’s) another chance for two reasons: 1) “Yukhei’s a nice boy,” he had cheerfully reminded you, “he’ll treat you well,” and 2) “Stop fucking your best friend. It’s morally wrong.”

There were many things wrong with his statement, from the fact that you didn’t exactly consider standing up a date as “nice” and that you were also still begrudgingly lamenting the way Hoseok had discovered your recent fling with Jungkook (although, you weren’t being very inconspicuous, having shower sex with Jungkook early one morning when you were certain Hoseok would be spending the day at his fiance’s home instead of yours).

But then you meet Yukhei and you realize that, oh crap, he’s cute. And he’s nice.

As it turns out, after bumping into him one day when you’re with Hoseok lounging on the quad of your campus and he comes bounding over to return a textbook Hoseok had lent him for a specific class, Yukhei is so easily charming. He also gives a pretty valid excuse for flaking on your date, proving that he had to present his dissertation, making you clearly aware that he’s cute, nice, and smart. Jungkook, on the other hand, doesn’t see the appeal, yet his curiosity and intrigue seems to get the best of him.

“So that was your blind date?” Jungkook asks after grabbing your attention on the quad and stealing you away from Hoseok and Yukhei. “Yukhei?”

“You know him?”

“Seen him around,” Jungkook shrugs nonchalantly. “I’ve never really talked to him. But him? You’re not telling me you’re actually interested in him, are you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe,” You’re truly just as clueless about your feelings towards Yukhei as Jungkook seems to be. “What’s so wrong about him?”

“He’s━” Jungkook stops. He shakes his head. “Heard he’s got a small dick anyway.”

You shoot the boy a wary look, only to find him grinning deviously at himself. “Maybe he just wants to be friends.”

At this, Jungkook lets out a scoffing sound that borders on disbelieving laughter. “No, I definitely think he wants to have sex with you in his Toyota Camry, Y/N, but what do I know?”

“You’re not jealous, are you?”

“No, why would I be jealous?”

You can’t quite tell if he’s angry or not but, then again, why would he be? As far as either of you are concerned, there’s nothing to be jealous of.

So then why does it feel like he’s simply just telling himself that?

“Are you seriously on your phone right now?”

Jungkook asks this from somewhere behind you a handful of days later, a little peeved but most likely because your jarring 8:00 a.m. alarm had roused the both of you violently awake. In his defense, Jungkook is not a morning person.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You’re currently sprawled out on your hands and knees on his bed, phone still in your grasp after having plucked it off the nightstand in haste. Your clothes are scattered across the floor of his room, remnant clues of the night before when he had beckoned you over after hours, and your body is covered in nothing but hickeys and an unbuttoned blue flannel belonging to Jungkook that you had chucked on last night that does nothing in covering up the swell of your breasts which Jungkook is now currently eyeing. “Am I not giving you enough attention? Were you expecting cuddles or something? Thought that wasn’t in the rules.”

“No,” Jungkook huffs. He runs a hand through his long messy hair in an attempt to fix it; he ultimately gives up taming his locks, instead using the hair tie around his wrist to tie his hair back into a cute yet sexy little ponytail. As he does so, you notice the red friendship bracelet around his wrist and smile smally. “But my dick could use some cuddles. Preferably with your mouth, but it will also gladly accept your hand.”

Jungkook may not be a morning person but, as you’ve come to realize, his dick certainly is.

It’s painfully obvious too, his hardened length straining against the gray sweatpants he had thrown on at some point. And, god, did he have to wear those? It left little to the imagination, the outline of his length teasing you just enough.

“I should get going,” You say. “I have a test coming up. There’s supposed to be a review session today in class, and I don’t want to miss it.”

“Well, you don’t seem like you’re in a rush since you’re still on your phone,” Jungkook points out. “Who are you texting anyway? Yukhei?”

“Anger is an emotion,” You rebuke casually. “So is jealousy.”

Jungkook feigns a look of mock hurt. “I’m not angry or jealous! I’m needy.”

Still, Jungkook reaches out to swiftly pluck your phone from your hands.

“Jungkook━!”

He’s pressed up against your back in an instant, his dick hard against your ass, and he doesn’t move very far even when you twist in your spot in an attempt to grab your phone back. You don’t, and instead you end up on your back with him on his side, propped up on his elbow. You miss when he casts a swift gaze down at your phone, only to see that Yukhei’s chat messages are indeed open, and something seems to gnaw terribly at his gut before he tosses your phone to the side. He’s looking at you now with those big beautiful eyes of his, and you hate it.

“Please?” he beckons. He ruts his hips impatiently but slowly against your leg. He drops his head to bury his face in the crook of your neck, lips dangerously close to brushing against your flesh but he refrains somehow. “M’so hard right now, could probably bust the moment you touch me.”

The thought is tempting, having a helpless Jungkook cumming in your hands. The sight alone has quickly become your favourite thing, helping the frustrated boy get off. Besides, you’re certain you could ask Hoseok for the review notes.

Fuck it, you cave.

You fidget until you’ve pressed him back against the bed and have clambered on top of him, wiggling your way down to fit between his legs. Jungkook is watching you now with a half-asleep expression, though his teeth sink into his lower lip as you pull at his sweatpants until they’re down at his thighs, letting his swollen dick spring free.

“You know━” You hum. You reach out to grab at the base of his cock. “Yukhei wants to hang out, and Hoseok keeps telling me to give it a shot.”

That much is true. Part of you wants to say yes, if only because Yukhei seems promising enough, but the thought alone is enough for you to feel as if you’ve done something horribly wrong to Jungkook.

“Oh.” The word eclipses Jungkook’s mouth in a shallow breath of air. Then, your mouth wraps around the puffy head of his dick, shining with leaking precum that you swallow back, and Jungkook’s reaction is immediate. Head thrown back, face scrunching together, muscles in his toned abdomen flexing as he seizes and grunts aloud. “Oh, fuck━ Well… Are you gonna?”

Jungkook asks the last question with much difficulty, and a part of him thinks it doesn’t all have to do with how you’re making him feel.

“Dunno.” You snort around his dick, and he marvels at how adorable such a lewd action can seem.

You decide to focus on sucking him off because it truly is a sexy sight to see, letting the topic of Yukhei drop. Jungkook certainly doesn’t mind. As you swirl your tongue around his tip and reach up with your free hand to fondle at his balls, his long hair falls into his lashes but he still tries to find you past his wild locks, hooded eyes gazing down at you.

“Ah, shit━” Jungkook hisses delightfully, hips jerking forward instinctively into your mouth. The faintest hints of a drowsy smirk tug at his lips. “Fuck, yes, just like that.”

Yeah, you think to yourself then, you’re definitely going to ride him later. Screw going to class.

From: Jungkook Sent: 1:05 a.m.

bro i noticed u werent wearing our friendship bracelet while u were giving me head earlier. is everything ok??

You wake in the morning to a single text from Jungkook ━ and one you had not been expecting.

That’s not to say that getting the occasional text message from Jungkook at any and all hours of the day was abnormal, but the extent of his messages sent anywhere past midnight usually always range from something more coherent in the form of “what would u do if i was there rn?” to something exuding typical lazy Jungkook manner with a simple “dtf?” or “send noods lol” to something even more provocatively cryptic such as the eggplant and splashing water (or, as far as Jungkook is concerned, something else entirely) emojis and nothing else, left open for your own interpretation that typically, usually, without a doubt, results in you in his bed and his dick in you. But this seems to be something else entirely.

Unfortunately, Jungkook’s text isn’t the only concern of yours.

Hoseok has spent the better part of the morning giving you a lecture on why having sex with your best friend is bad. He seems so passionate about the topic that you’re certain he would have pulled out a powerpoint at any moment, each slide ending in a picture of Yukhei and why you should maybe try fucking him instead, if you entertained the idea a little longer. Hoseok claims it’s just a harmless date. Yukhei might be a nice boy, but you don’t know how you feel about him. You don’t want to lead him on, and a scary thought points out the fact that maybe, while Yukhei is a nice boy, he isn’t Jungkook.

“I don’t get why you don’t just give Yukhei a chance━” Hoseok is saying now, sat on the couch in your shared apartment with him. “It’s not like you have to marry him. I don’t think one date will hurt━ Aaand, you’re not even listening to me anymore, are you?”

The sheepish look on your face is enough of an answer for him. You’ve been anxiously eyeing your phone and the text Jungkook had sent you last that you’ve yet to respond to, even despite being awake for more than a few hours now.

“Yes, I am listening,” You say dismissively. “Something about how one date won’t hurt, but that’s what you said when Yoongi asked you out, and you’re literally engaged now.”

The glistening metallic ring on Hoseok’s finger is evidence enough. The boy looks down at it as if seeing it for the first time, purses his lips, and then nods in agreement. “Okay, yeah, maybe you’re right. But you’re holding out for Jungkook and for what? He’s hot, yeah, and he’s your best friend, sure, but at the end of the day he’s still just a horny male who wants to stick his dick in anything that moves.”

“Hoseok.” Your grumbling sigh is interrupted by the motion of your phone vibrating against your thigh once more. You peek at the screen fleetingly to see a new text.

From: Jungkook Sent: 2:35 p.m.

send n00ds?

miss ur tits :(

Typical Jungkook.

The text from the night before is all but seemingly forgotten from his mind, and you can’t quite tell if you’re devastated or relieved. You don’t have very long to discern which emotion you’re feeling when Hoseok snatches your phone to look at what’s gotten your attention before exclaiming suddenly, “Aha! See! What did I say?”

“It’s not like that,” You wave Hoseok off. “Jungkook treats me well. He respects me, and I’m comfortable with him.”

“And how long until whatever this is━” He gestures vaguely to your phone as if to point out your relationship with Jungkook, “has to end? Do you really think a pinky promise is going to make sure your friendship with him isn’t totally ruined? I mean, how can you continue being casual friends with someone, see them dating someone else, when they’ve had their dick in you?”

You know it makes sense. Realistically, you either stop sleeping with each other or it potentially develops into something more. But in both circumstances, what were the chances that either of you didn’t get your heart broken? Maybe a part of you was apprehensive of Jungkook finding the “right” person for him one day that has him ending things with you, and while you swear you’d be happy for him, relationships sometimes have a way of distracting people from those already around them. Were you prepared to have someone take him away from you, platonically and whatever it is else that you have with him? Did you really think you could just keep being friends with him, as if nothing ever occurred between you two?

You don’t think Jungkook is bothered worrying about the state of your friendship with him, much less overthinking it like you seem to be. It shouldn’t be a big deal ━ yet why was there still that terrible nagging voice in the back of your mind? Whether or not Hoseok is right, you don’t want to find out. You don’t have feelings for Jungkook anyway.

But your ability to bend at his every will is certainly interesting.

You grab your phone before Hoseok can do any serious damage like unlocking it and responding to Jungkook, clutching it to your chest as you start to cross the living room. The other boy looks at you in bewilderment. “Where are you going now?”

“Where does it look?” You call over your shoulder just before you disappear into the bathroom, and Hoseok deduces all at once that you’re truly a lost cause. “I need to send him a picture of my boobs.”

“He’s totally into you, Y/N.”

Admittedly, there were many mundane but essentially weird things you’ve talked to Jungkook about while having sex. You’ve had many heated debates about everything under the sun from whether or not pineapple on pizza should be illegal to top five betrayals in either movies or animes, to passionate grand philosophical discussions about what exists outside of the universe.

It’s not as if you had been planning on talking about Yukhei to Jungkook when he had invited you over to his apartment late at night after sending your risqué boob picture to him but, like many things in your friendship with Jungkook, it sort of just happened. He had asked you how your day was and you had decided to broach the topic experimentally, though you think deep down you’re doing it on purpose to see if he’d react in any way. What started with you mentioning Hoseok’s adamance and you sort of genuinely asking Jungkook for advice on Yukhei somehow evolved into Jungkook interrogating you on whether or not you’ve hung out with him yet.

“Jungkook. You’re getting off topic,” You admonish him now, as if your own choice of topic is any better when his dick is currently in you.

Jungkook is wedged between your thighs smushed up against your chest, large palms holding you on your ribcage in place beneath him. He’s a comfortable heavy draped over top of you, cock stretching you wide. You can feel his heart hammering against yours and he’s slick with sweat, golden hair clinging to his forehead and in his pretty eyes. You resist the urge to reach out and brush the messy locks away but, again, how would that be any less intimate of an action than what you’re already doing? Another line uncrossed, you suppose.

“How am I off topic?” Jungkook retorts. “You literally just said you can’t tell if he’s into you but he dropped by when you were done class and bought you lunch. You don’t just do that for a girl you don’t care that much about.”

“You buy me lunch, like, every day,” You point out.

“Because you’re my best friend. Of course I care about you,” Jungkook says.

“Ah, Jungkook━” You curse suddenly, grabbing his attention when you shift your weight beneath him. “You’re crushing me. Why’d you stop moving?”

He doesn’t have an answer, if only because he hadn’t even realized he’d stop moving in the first place. Without hesitation, he continues leisurely rutting his hips against yours, grabbing at one of your legs to hook it around his waist. This new angle lets you feel even more of him as he sinks further into you, if that was even still possible, reaching so far into you that you swear it’s like you can feel him in your stomach. Your head lolls back against the pillows, pure euphoria contorting your face so much so to the point that it distracts you entirely from the distant look glazing over Jungkook’s eyes.

“Yukhei definitely wants to bang,” he huffs under his breath.

At once, an exasperated groan fills his ears.

“I can’t believe we’re seriously having this conversation right now,” You roll your eyes, fingers prodding at his sides. “I don’t wanna talk about Yukhei potentially wanting to have sex with me.”

Jungkook’s glad you said it, at least. Though now he’s watching you with hooded eyes as he thrusts into you a little harder, maybe a little intentionally. His indulgent gaze droops to your breasts, admiring the way they bounce beneath him each time his hips make contact with yours. He thinks back earlier in the day to the picture you had sent him which, really, had sparked the mood for the rest of the night.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he whines abruptly. His eyes screw shut and brows furrow together as your walls clench around him. He drops his head to bury his face in your chest, lips momentarily wrapping around one of your nipples as he sucks harshly at the soft flesh. When he speaks next, forehead still resting against your collarbones, his voice is a breathless croak, “Well, do you like him?”

“No,” You moan. “Maybe━ Fuck, Koo━ I don’t know.”

“He’s gonna be at that party Tae’s throwing, isn’t he?” Jungkook tries to focus, but it’s becoming increasingly harder to do so when he’s inching closer and closer to his high. “Shit, ah, Y/N━ Why don’t you try talking to him or something? See how the night goes?”

“He’s nice but I don’t think he’s the one for me,” You admit sheepishly. “I think I’m just gonna end things while I still can, with as little harm as possible.”

“Well, glad that’s settled,” Jungkook mumbles. “Can we please stop talking about Yukhei now?”

You seem to miss the way he clings to you a little tighter, hands flying down to grip at your hips, nails digging crescent moon shapes into your skin. He snaps his hips into yours a little faster this time, your pussy throbbing around him.

“Nngh, Jungkook━”

Your hands fumble to grip at his hair, tugging tightly at the roots and earning a delightful hiss from the boy. Your own mouth drops open in a silent moan and it’s a wonder he doesn’t combust at just how sexy the sight is. He hates how his eyes stay trained on the shape of your lips, the soft plumpness of them. He’s felt them wrapped around his dick plenty of times before but he concedes that it’s probably hardly anywhere near to how it would feel to kiss you. Like actually kiss you, tongue and all.

God, what’d he give just to smother your lips with his.

And, god, he hopes you never find out. He’s positive that thought is far more scandalous alone than anything you’ve ever done together.

You’re writhing beneath him now, hips jutting forward desperately to meet his. “I’m gonna cum, Jungkook━”

“Fuck, yes,” Jungkook growls. “Wanna feel you cream around my cock so bad. Come on, baby━”

In the heat of the moment, you seem to miss the pet name that slurs off his tongue and the sentiment in it. A few more jolting slams of his hips and you’re tumbling over the edge. He has to sputter for air when he feels your pussy wrapping so tightly around him, stuttering in his pace above you if only to watch as you unravel beneath him. Hooded dark eyes glazed over in that perfect fucked out expression he loves so much, teeth biting at your lower lip so hard he wonders if it’ll bruise in the morning.

A sudden thought pops into his head when you’ve settled enough, amongst the blinding pure white of bliss that clouds his thoughts. “Did you get my text by the way? The one I sent last night?”

You gasp for air. The bracelet on your wrist itches at the mention of it, and you’re fortunate you decided to wear it that afternoon before coming to Jungkook’s. “Y-Yeah━”

“Well…?”

“Everything’s fine,” You say this as dismissively as you can. Your core is still vibrating after the harsh impact of your orgasm paired with Jungkook’s swollen length still in you. “I just… I was taking a shower and didn’t want to get it wet. I forgot to put it back on in the morning.”

That’s a lie. You had mostly taken it off as part of an experiment, though it hasn’t answered much. At least Jungkook doesn’t seem to realize that.

“Oh,” Jungkook breathes. A beat of silence passes, before he deadpans cockily, “Wait, you were taking a shower and I wasn’t invited?”

“Oh my god, shut up━” Maybe if he hadn’t just currently driven you to nirvana and back, you’d notice the way the sloppy grin on his face is a simple taunt. But you’re much too distracted to care. Instead, you use your leg that’s still hooked around his waist to gently push and roll him onto his back so that you can straddle his hips. His eyes sparkle mischievously as he watches you waste no time in hurrying to grind against him at an agonizingly steady pace that makes his head spin. “You’re ruining the moment. I’m trying to make you cum.”

A devious cackle rumbles from his chest, albeit a little contented at the same time. Yeah, he definitely likes the sound of that. “Well then, by all means, don’t let me stop you.”

It’s only then that his question comes back into your mind. If he felt the need to ask you again about the bracelet, maybe that meant something after all. At the very least, it means he hadn’t forgotten about it altogether. On the other hand, you wonder how often he had spent thinking, or over-thinking, the issue in the past twenty-four hours, if at all.

Was it wrong to feel some semblance of joy over that potential fact? Probably.

That doesn’t seem to bother you much this time. Not when he’s gazing up at you as if you’re some divine sexy goddess, all his to enjoy. You can’t help yourself; you reach down to brush the sweaty hair from his eyes, perhaps all too gentle of an action for best friends.

And he smiles, maybe a little too softly and maybe a little too ardently if you look close enough.

He smiles.

The thing about your supposed “rules” with your relationship with Jungkook is that there might be a few loose ends that neither you nor Jungkook pay much attention to sometimes.

But that’s neither here nor there.

Mostly, the “no public displays of affection” clause is easily disregardable. It’s typically when you’re too drunk to remember it and a bit needy, craving one another’s touch, but those around you never truly seem to care or even notice because, if you’re lucky, they’re equally as smashed. Sometimes the “no cuddles” clause blurs into a gray area where it’s simply just you and Jungkook post-sex, sprawled out in his bed, not necessarily wrapped up in one another’s arms and cooing sweet nothings to one another but giggling at nothing in particular except one another as you bask in each other’s company and nothing more. You suppose some rules are meant to be broken.

For the most part, Jungkook never seems to question the no kissing rule you were so adamant in insisting. Not until one night in which you’re left wondering where things go so drastically wrong. It starts off as normally as any other day with you and Jungkook can, spent in his apartment binge watching movies. You hadn’t expected that night to switch as suddenly as it does when Jungkook shoots you a text earlier in the day asking if you want to come to his for a night of casual drinking as simply “best friends.” But, as always, one thing seems to lead to another, and you can’t get enough of Jungkook. Maybe it’s in the way he holds you a little tighter, the way he tugs you onto his lap on the sofa in his living room, the way he grips your thighs with a certain type of insatiable desire.

“You know…” he hums. “You drive me insane. In, like, the best way possible.”

Part of you realizes his actions even without him seeming to, and the drunken smile on your face remaining frozen in place, a little dumbfounded. “Jungkook…”

“When I’m with you…” He lifts his stare to look at you, but you have nothing to say. Neither does he. Instead, you’re left grinning at one another and suddenly your face is warm. He leans towards you, his nose nuzzling against the side of your throat. Your hands stay threaded in his hair now, and he swears he feels you secure your grip as if to pull him closer.

You can feel his lips brush faintly against your skin, grazing along your neck to the underside of your jaw. Up, up, up, until━

It’s just as his mouth meets with the corner of yours that you register what he’s doing, even in your clouded state. You turn your head just in time, and he comes to an immediate halt, his lips barely making contact with your cheek instead before he pulls away. He doesn’t move very far but you also don’t push him away just yet. Instead, you shift your head to look at him, still inches apart from him.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He can’t quite tell if you’re appalled or not, an empty expression staring back at him.

“I━ You━” He fumbles over his words, squeezes his eyes shut. He blames it on the alcohol even though his head is swimming with thoughts that seem to only concern you. But then a fierceness seems to stir within him, one that makes his jaw clench as he meets your stunned stare. The question rolls off his tongue without meaning to. “Is this about Yukhei?”

“What?”

“Is that why you weren’t wearing our bracelet the other day?”

The question is so ridiculous, you have to laugh. “What are you going on about?”

But Jungkook doesn’t see what’s so funny and so he tries again, his persistence taking hold. “Is that why you won’t ever let me kiss you?”

You blink. Then, you’re shaking your head at him. Exasperation hangs heavy in your words, shaping in the form of a tired scoff. “You’re not serious.”

You’ve slithered off of his lap before he can even think to stop you ━ but if he had, would you have even stayed? You’re mad, but he doesn’t know why. “No, I wanna know. Because if what we have is already so meaningless, what makes a kiss any different?”

“Jungkook…”

“So I wanna know,” he says, brows unconsciously knitting together. His gaze is searching yours desperately, as if begging for an answer he’ll want to hear. But he knows he’s being an idiot, a small sober part in him makes him realize that. “Humour me. Have you had sex with him yet?”

“Oh my god. I can’t believe that’s what you’re on about.” Suddenly, you’re frowning. Your hardened stare meets the boy’s and the irritation that scrunches at your face makes him wince, but it’s too late for him to take back the damage that he’s done. “Yeah, Jungkook, we fucked in his stupid Toyota that you hate so much and he choked me and I liked it. He did all sorts of dirty things to me. Is that what you want to hear?” The sardonic tone hisses at his ears, but he bites back his words, the sober part in him doing some decent good by shushing him. “No, Jungkook, we didn’t fuck. We haven’t even gone on a date, and I don’t even know if I want to, and you think I’m throwing myself at him.”

“But you wanna.”

“You’re being an idiot,” You admonish. “I’m going home. Talk to me when you’re sober.”

He has just enough time to watch you turn on your heel, march towards his door, when he scrambles to his feet. The weight of his words and actions finally seem to dawn on him, hitting him harshly in the face and in the heart.

“Fuck, wait! Wait━” he gasps.

He chases after you, hand reaching out to press his palm against the door before you can shimmy it open. He’s fortunate when you turn to look at him, though your arms are folded impatiently over your chest.

“You’re right. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad,” he promises earnestly. Then, he lets out a frustrated groan. “I just… What if we… Shit, what if we stop for right now? Y’know… Hooking up. Whatever this is.”

He gestures vaguely between the two of you with his hands, a wearied look plastering his face.

You hate to admit how his words seem to affect you. They bite at the air, leave you breathless as you gawk at him, but the harsh realization of it all is that you were never his to have and he was never yours. Hoseok had been right when he said these things were bound to come to an end ━ so why did it seem to hurt you so much?

A beat of prolonged silence passes between the two of you. Jungkook runs a hand through his chaotic blonde hair, digging the heel of his palm into his temple as if to rid himself of a headache he’s no doubt sporting. Maybe you’re waiting for a better explanation, but he gives none, and you don’t feel as if you have the right to ask why. He’s not your boyfriend, for god’s sake. It’s not like he’s breaking your heart.

Instead, you take a deep breath and say, “Okay.”

“Okay.” It’s all that he says in return.

So then why does it feel like he is?

When Jungkook had promised that if your fling with him ended you would go back to being untainted best friends, he was apparently lying.

A part of you can’t believe the sheer nerve of him to ghost you in his traditional fuckboy ways, and yet he does. You suppose not entirely, at the very least. Part of it ends up with you being even more vexed by his sudden shift in emotion, and the tangible tension that rises between the two of you should have been dealt with properly, yet neither of you do anything about it, leaving your friendship stagnant and stale for a week. After all, how are you really supposed to go back to “just friends” when you’ve seen his dick one too many times?

You refrain from telling Hoseok, if only so you don’t have to hear him tell you he told you so ━ but you also decide to give Yukhei that one chance, and so you think Hoseok wouldn’t mind so much anyway.

Admittedly, when Yukhei asks to hang with you at Taehyung’s eventual party, you aren’t entirely too keen, but you accept it if only because you heard Jungkook will be there too. For the majority of the night, you don’t see the boy, and you spend the hours cozying up with Yukhei in a conversation that dulls you. As it would appear, it seems to bore Yukhei too, but you only notice that when he starts touching you on your waist and the small of your back. There’s a moment where he leans his head close enough to yours that you realize he’s trying to kiss you, resulting in an awkward encounter in which you push him away, palms on his chest.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. The answer is obvious enough to you, but you don’t think you should tell him for his own dignity. That, instead, all you can imagine is Jungkook in his place. “Should we get out of here?”

“Y/N. Can I talk to you?”

You’re both fortunate yet horrified when you hear Jungkook’s voice. He’s standing just behind you, his own stare devoid of any emotion, though his brows furrow and his jaw clenches in a signature Jungkook manner that you know means he’s pissed. He hardly acknowledges Yukhei, nodding in his general direction. You don’t remember if you leave Yukhei there or if he leaves, or if Jungkook even gives a poor attempt of an excuse to the boy, but you’ve not so much as uttered a single word or let out an exhalation of air, when Jungkook ultimately pulls you off to the side where it’s just you and him once more.

“I’m not sucking your dick in Tae’s grimy bathroom, if that’s what you want,” You scowl once Yukhei is out of earshot. “You’ve lost the privilege that is my mouth.”

“That’s not━” Jungkook shakes his head, exasperated. “That’s not what I want. I just━ I’ll take you home. Please?”

You know the offer is much more than him simply walking you the route to your dorm, which you already know like the back of your hand. Yet, you don’t argue. Truthfully, it’s a relief when Jungkook lugs you out of the party. The entire venture back to your apartment is treacherous, in the way that you’re left sobering up enough to the point that your dizzying thoughts become more coherent. Hoseok is gone for the weekend at least, spending the days with his fiance, so you don’t have to worry about humiliating yourself in front of your roommate when it comes to Jungkook.

You’ve barely made it through your front door when you’re grumbling aloud, “What do you want, Jungkook?”

“I wanna talk,” he says firmly. “About us. About Yukhei.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.” But that’s a lie. Talking to Jungkook, even despite masquerading your annoyance for him, is a blessing in disguise. You’ve missed the idiot, and hearing his voice. “Besides, you told me to give him a chance.”

“And you said you didn’t want to.”

“Maybe I changed my mind.”

“Yeah, you sure seemed like you loved it when he was trying to shove his tongue down your throat,” Jungkook retorts bitterly. “C’mon, Y/N. We both know that’s a lie.”

“You know, you’ve been a real dick lately.”

A sliver of a smirk tugs at Jungkook’s face. “I thought you love dick.”

Clearly, his poor attempt at a joke doesn’t land well with you. “Why do you even care so much if Yukhei and I get together? Stop acting so high and mighty and moral, Jungkook. It’s not like you’re some virgin saint. How many times have I heard you talk about all those girls you’ve fucked? And what was I? Just another notch in your belt this whole time?”

“What?” Jungkook gasps now, as if disbelieving you would ever think such a thing. “No! You’re not just another notch. I would never even think about you that way. And I haven’t had sex with anyone else but you this whole time and I easily could have.”

“Wow! Such a martyr,” You remark dryly. When you speak next, you meet his stare with your own crestfallen gaze. “I just want my best friend back.” Your words hurt him more than you think, but he can’t say he doesn’t deserve it. “You’re the one who tried to kiss me, then suggested we stop whatever it is we’re doing━”

Jungkook flinches. “I know.”

“Then you ignore me for days even though you promised nothing would change━”

“I know,” he says desperately. He closes the distance between the two of you, yearning to reach out and touch you. Instead, he clamps his eyes shut, trying with all his might to focus when the room feels like it’s spinning.

“And then you get mad when Yukhei tries to make a move. It’s like you’re jealous or something!”

“I am.” He can’t take it anymore. The words tumble from his lips in a rush that he hardly bothers to bite back.

“Why?”

“Because━ Because━” He struggles to form his thoughts into words, stumbling over his sentence. Fuck, he’s never like this. Even you can tell. He grits his teeth next. “I lean in to kiss you and you look at me as if I’m out of my mind. I just don’t get it. You don’t want me to kiss you but you let me put my dick in your ass.”

The taut line of your lip quivers as you break. “That was one time and you didn’t even get all the way in!”

“Y/N.” Jungkook hums now. He’s gazing at you a little softly, reaching out to place his hands on your waist. “Look, I know I’ve been an idiot. But lately, when I touch you, I fucking feel so alive and the thought of Yukhei doing anything with you when it isn’t me, who should be with you, makes me want to vomit. And when I wake up in the morning alone, I only want you next to me. And I can’t be the only one feeling that way. If I am, tell me. Right now. Please. I just wanna know why you won’t ever let me kiss you, but you let me do all sorts of things with you. Am I really that repulsive?”

Another moment of silence stifles the room. Jungkook is so close to you now, you can’t help yourself. You reach up to tug at the collar of his shirt, fingers twisting in the material as you lean your forehead out of frustration against his shoulder and he instinctively lets his arms slither around your waist, holding you to him. Then━

“No.”

“What?”

“I only made the rule because I don’t want you to kiss me unless you mean it,” You murmur into his chest. “Like really, really mean it. Like I’m more than just a notch in your belt. Because I want to kiss you so badly, and I’m already in love with you but then I’ll really be in love with you and I don’t want to get my heart broken.”

The anticipation kills you, awaiting his response. You refuse to lift your head, until you hear him grumble, “You’re so fucking stupid.”

“Me?”

The retort is filled with your typical jestering hostility as you finally look at him. But just as you do so, Jungkook’s reaching out to grasp at your face, rough hands all soft and gentle as they cradle your cheeks, guiding you towards him and smoothing his lips over yours until you melt like putty in his hands.

Kissing Jungkook, you deduce at once, is not at all how you imagined it.

It’s everything and more. You’ve felt his mouth on you before but in much different circumstances. Between your legs, on your throat, down past the valley of your breasts ━ and each kiss then had been feral, sloppy, rough. Now, it’s sweet and tender, the feeling of his lips as soft as how he makes your heart feel. And the butterflies━ god, the butterflies.

Impatient hands tug and pull at one another until you’ve both stumbled into your room and onto your bed. He’s clambered over top of you, lips struggling to not part throughout the whole ordeal, until he’s wedged himself between your thighs.

Only then does Jungkook part from you just enough in the next moment, lips brushing against yours, as he whispers ardently, “I mean it.”

Then he’s kissing the corner of your lips down to the underside of your jaw, his mouth grazing along your skin in a feathery touch. His hands help you shed your shirt, and the bra underneath. “I mean it when I kiss you here.”

Then he drops his head to your neck, kissing at the base of your throat, before nipping at it lightly. “And here.”

Your hands come to thread in his hair, tugging at the roots. He burrows his face lastly in your chest, snatching the nipple of one of your breasts between his teeth. “Here…”

You’re so soft and supple beneath his hands, all his to love and explore.

“I want you, all of you,” he mumbles. “Only you.”

“Oh, Koo…”

A pretty moan tumbles from your mouth, and he could nearly cry. He had surely thought you were far past the point of enraged, far past the point of pensive words shaped in a heartfelt apology to bring you back to him. But then hearing you rasp his name ━ the little cute nickname that only you call him ━ makes him so goddamn remorseful.

He smothers your lips with his once more, groaning into your mouth. “I’m such a fucking dick. I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that,” You whine.

“I’m sorry,” he laments. He bites at your lower lip, suckling against it. “Please let me make it up to you.”

“You already have.”

“But I’ve been such a shitty friend,” he groans. It’s hard to focus when he’s pressing his hips against yours, the forming bulge in his pants straining against the inside of your thigh. “I should’ve known when to stop. I shouldn’t have even suggested the whole thing in the first place, because then I wouldn’t have messed us all up.”

“Jungkook,” Your grip tightens in his hair. “Jungkook━ I want you so bad. Just wanna be yours.”

“Yeah?” His breath is warm as it fans against your neck. You rub your core eagerly against him, throbbing pussy so close to making contact with his dick.

“Yeah,” You mewl.

“What do you want from me?”

“You. Wanna feel your dick in me, please,” Your fingers tug at the top of his jeans, prodding at the muscles on his abdomen. “In my mouth. Can make you feel better, Koo, I promise. Just wanna be your good girl.”

“Mmm, I like the sound of that.”

He lets you push him until he’s on his back and you’re straddling his hips. Your limbs entangle with his as you shed the rest of your clothes, your own hands wandering up and down the front of his body after he’s tossed his shirt onto the floor. Then he watches as you shimmy your way down his body. You’re so zealous in pleasing him, wrapping your hand around the base of his dick, head angry and red, dribbling pearly beads of precum down the shaft and over the bulging vein that lines it. You run your thumb over the tip and down, spreading the sticky fluid over him. He grunts in response, nearly jolting at your touch, as his head drops back against his shoulders.

“Oh, fuck,” he growls.

You pump him slowly, taking you time as your closed fist glides up and down his length. He shudders each time your hand reaches the base, and becomes so carried away with your leisure teasing that his eyes are screwed shut and misses the way you dip down to kiss at the tip of his cock. His eyes immediately flutter open, a flustered expression painting his face. You lap again at the head, saltiness coating your tongue, and you let out a simpering moan that has him quivering. And when you wrap your mouth entirely around his cock, sinking down along his length, he swears he’s about to fall apart. Your eyes flicker upward to meet him and the moment they lock, so sexy and dark, he has to look away for fear of busting right then and there. He reclines back against the bed once more, his hand flying out to grab at your hair.

“You’re so good to me, baby,” he rasps.

He can feel the curve of your lips against his cock as you suck him off. You do so well, too. Puffing your cheeks out, taking as much of him as you can until it feels as if he’s hitting the back of your throat. Then, you’ll suck at the tip of his cock, tongue swirling rapidly around, as your fist rubs his shaft. It’s a beautiful mix, one that inches him closer and closer to his high, and each time you switch he has to hold it together to not let go so soon. He wants to enjoy it, needs to bask in it. Your pretty mouth doing such sinful things, making him feel as if he were in heaven.

“Shit━” His hips jut forward to meet with your mouth, accidentally hitting the back of your throat without warning. You gag a little, but don’t pull away, and when he apologizes to you hastily, you only moan in response. A thought pops into his head that has him beckon aloud, “Will you be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth? Huh, baby?”

You hum in approval, eyes shimmering with glee.

So, he plants both hands in your hair, grabs at the sides of your head, and as you hollow out your cheeks, he bucks into your mouth. He does it again and again, listening to your crescendoing mewls of delight, forming a sticky mess of drool and cum that spills onto your chin.

“God, you’re so good,” Jungkook grunts. He’s a complete wreck, eyes screwing shut, blonde tresses spilling into his lashes. The muscles in his abdomen twitch with each sharp inhale of air he takes, so mesmerized by the shape of your pretty mouth around his dick, like you were made for him. “Such a good girl, huh?”

He fucks himself into your mouth roughly, frantically. Tears start to prick at your eyes from holding your breath, yet you keep yourself together just a little longer for him, lashes fluttering shut tightly.

“All mine too,” Jungkook hisses. “Wouldn’t let Yukhei do this to you, would you? Fuck, I’m━”

With your head left immobile stuck in his grasp, you hum in disapproval instead. You know he’s close when you start to hear him panting breathily. When he cums, it’s with a fractured whine and in short hot bursts onto your tongue and down your throat. You swallow as much as you can and, when he parts from you with a resonating lewd pop, you wipe away with your knuckles at the rest of his cum leaking out of the corner of your mouth and onto your chin. Dark hooded eyes meet with yours, a mischievous glint captivating them. You crawl over to him, straddling his hips once more, chasing his mouth with yours. Your own lips are so wet, coated in saliva and cum, bruised plump, but yet you’re smiling so innocently past the way he can taste himself on his tongue.

A dazed thought pops into your head that has you murmuring wistfully against him, “Say it again. I like hearing you call me baby.”

“Hmm? What about when I call you my good girl?” Jungkook nips at your lips. He grasps at your waist, flipping you over until you’re on your back beneath him. “You treat me so well, baby; you’re my only girl, you know that.”

A contented sigh sounds from you as you rut your hips in thinning desperation to meet his, so close to rubbing against his dick nestled against his thigh. He licks at his fingers hastily, reaching between the two of you to press against your clit, rubbing leisurely at the soft bundle of nerves. He’s learned how to navigate your body after months of supposed emotionless fucking, but now? Now, he felt as if his heart may just burst through his chest. Every reaction you make to his every touch ━ the needy plea to have him make you his, call you baby ━ makes him want to see more, and more.

“Am I?” You ask hoarsely. He grasps at his dick, guiding his tip to your core, so slick and wet, glistening with your own arousal. As he pushes himself in with a hiss, he watches as you contort beneath him. “Nnngh, Jungkook━”

“Fuuck,” he groans. He sinks into you, spreading your thighs further and further apart, until his hips make contact with yours. His mouth attacks yours with a feverish passion, the rumble of his moans and your whimpers muffling against one another. Then, he remembers to answer your awaiting question, barely audible between the way his tongue lavs at yours. “You are. I’m so fucking in love with you. But I don’t deserve you.”

Your hands tug impatiently at his hair. “Stop saying that.”

“But it’s true,” he hums. He’s quick to start rutting at your hips in a steady yet agonizing pace, dick burrowing into your pussy as your walls throb and shake. He can’t help but watch, mesmerized as always by the way his length slips past your folds and disappears into you. Again, and again, and again, so lewdly destroying your pretty cunt. “Just want Yukhei to touch you all over instead, don’t you?”

“No,” You croak.

You spread your thighs instinctively wider apart, allowing him to sink even further into you until it feels as if he’s hitting you so far in your stomach. Each roll of his hips is punctuated by the crude noise of skin against skin, sending you spiralling.

“Want him to do all sorts of dirty things to you, huh?”

“N-No. Fuck, Jungkook━ Harder, please━”

“That’s what you said,” Jungkook retorts. Still, he listens to your pleas, snapping his hips into yours roughly enough to send you jolting back on the bed. His hands start to roam your body, pinching at your hips, then grasping ferociously at one of your breasts. “Want him to fuck you in his car, right?” His palm feels like fire as it slides up past your collarbones to your throat. “Want him to choke you.”

His hand comes to wrap around the underside of your jaw on your throat, thumb and index finger pressing against the pressure points there. He squeezes, though with barely any force, just enough to feel your rapid pulse beneath his digits in a way that makes you so suddenly hyper aware of everything he’s doing to you. Cock stretching you wide, palm heavy around your throat, mouth folding over yours. So caught up in the overwhelming sensations you’re feeling, you can’t tell if he’s genuinely upset with himself, though you suspect part of him is. You can sense it in the way he clings to you a little tighter, can see it laced within his dazzling pupils.

Jungkook huffs, hair flopping into his eyes as he grits his teeth and ruts his hips faster into you if only to see more of your pretty little reactions. Your jaw unhinges at the feeling, head falling back onto the pillows. “He could probably treat you nicer too.”

You shake your head wildly, fingers digging into the skin on his shoulders. “Just want you, Koo.”

“Still?” he asks. His grip on your neck fastens a little more, pure euphoria riddling all your senses and making you writhe beneath him. “God, you’re such a dumb little slut, aren’t you?”

You nod in your groggy exhaustion, the familiar burn coiling in your stomach, making your toes curl.

Jungkook feels your own high approach. Your walls are clenched so tightly around him, he has to sputter for air. “Could he make you feel like this?”

“No, Koo,” You whine. “Only you.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook growls. “Good girl. Gonna cum around my dick like the good little slut you are?”

Your hips ricochet upwards to meet his, relentless pounding into your core. “Please, please━”

Jungkook quickens his pace until you’ve deteriorated into absolute shambles, whimpering his name after each thrust. You tumble towards your high, cuming around his length as he burrows it into you again and again, and all he can think is mine, mine, mine. As you unravel beneath him, he slides his hand off of your throat and slithers it underneath you and around your waist, hoisting you slightly enough off the bed so that he can reach his own orgasm. He’s a little more frantic now, sloppy and restless as he pummels into you.

“Shit, baby━” he cries out. “Oh, fuck, you’re so good━”

As you come down from your high enough, you somehow manage to murmur drowsily, “Cum in me, Koo. Wanna feel it.”

You grab at his face, pulling him down to catch his lips on yours, and the thought is so tempting he can’t refuse. He gets so lost in your lips, cuming with one final slam of his hips into yours and a chorus of curses mingling with your name in whimpers. He rides out both of your highs with a few half-hearted thrusts, more concerned with kissing you in useless open-mouthed kisses as your own mouth parts with one last weary moan while he fills you up.

When he’s spent, he collapses against your chest, and you collapse onto the bed. It’s quiet long enough for the both of you to calm the shrill beat of your hearts when you feel Jungkook stir, moving to part from you, pulling his dick from your swollen pussy and planting a lingering peck on your cheek. He disappears momentarily but returns a few seconds later, towel in hand which he uses to wipe at your core now leaking with his cum and your heart croons at all his tender touches.

It makes you realize all at once that, god, yes, you’re so in love with your idiot best friend and he’s so in love with you.

“Jungkook.”

He turns to look at you, an adoring smile dancing upon his lips when he sees your own radiant beaming face. You beckon him over and he relents, letting you pull him into your arms. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck as he wraps his own arms around you to tug you closer to his side. As your fingers come to rake through his sweaty hair, he cranes his neck to follow your hand and hear him coo against your neck, “That feels so good.”

A sudden thought crosses your mind that has you smirking smally to yourself. “Are we… Are we cuddling? Jungkook, I thought you didn’t like cuddling. Said it was, and I quote, sentimental bullshit.”

“I never liked it because it wasn’t with you. Didn’t wanna waste my time on someone that wasn’t you,” Jungkook hums, matter-of-fact. You can tell he’s a little embarrassed at the way you so casually taunt him about such an obvious fact, though he’s fortunate you can’t see him smiling like a complete fool. “And I wanna do all that sentimental bullshit with only you. Now, shush━” He scolds you playfully. “M’so tired and I just wanna hold you tight.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Your heart leaps in your chest. “Just promise me one thing?”

It’s only then that he lifts his sleepy gaze to find yours, apprehensive of any potentially looming severity in your words. “Anything.”

Instead, all he can find is the way you trace your finger along the details of his face, from his nose, to his cheekbones, down to the freckle under his lip with the hand that sports your friendship bracelet. “In the morning, when we wake up, you’ll still be here to hold me tight. And every other morning after that.”

His smile widens even more, if that was even possible. “Wouldn’t want it any other way. But━”

“But?”

“On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

His eyes sparkle cheekily. “Kiss me.”

So, you do, again and again and again; and Jungkook thinks, yeah, he certainly can get used to this.

It takes you a month to cave in to Jungkook’s incessant pleas to fuck you to his sex playlist. You do it mostly to humour him, though part of you is a little bit intrigued at the thought.

Stowed away in his room, he eats you out to the choruses of sultry The Weeknd and raunchy Ariana Grande songs, fucks you to the likes of the Neighbourhood and Kim Petras while you’re on all fours, and you’re only half-paying attention to the music until you hear it. Admittedly, you almost completely miss it but you blame Jungkook and the way he’s making you currently feel, sprawled out beneath him, chests pressed flush against one another in a sweaty, sticky mess, breathy and glorious moans of your name filling your ears when━

“I had no choice but to hear you. You stated your case time and again━”

The dulcet chime of Alanis Morissette thrums about the room, a complete and utter shift in contrast in the atmosphere that has you immediately pausing.

“Jungkook.” But he knows what you set out to say even before you do, judging by the tone in your voice and the stifling smirk on his face. You gawk at him, biting at your lip to hide your laughter but you fail miserably. “You weren’t joking?”

He shrugs innocently, leaving you just as dumbfounded as you were two seconds ago. Instead, he says, “Gotta do what I promised then, don’t I?”

You quirk a brow. “What was that exactly?”

“Gotta give you the best orgasm of your life.”

“If you can do that to cheesy 90s pop, I’ll have your actual babies, Jungkook.” The effort is endearing and impressive, to say the least.

A roll of your eyes is met with a taunting roll of his hips into yours that wipes the jest off your face immediately. He grins like a madman, uttering a little stupidly, and a little ardently, “Say no more.”

Because, all things considered and joking aside, he wants it with you ━ the dazed daydreamy talk of a future together and kids, friendship bracelets, and cuddles in the morning. Because you mean the world to him and more. Because you’re his best friend, and he’s so madly in love with you.

Because he wants it all with you.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

13K notes · View notes

winsmoke · 3 years ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝟐𝟎-𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫-𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧

Acclaimed photographer and virgin extraordinaire, Jaemin finds himself crushing hard on a girl working at a pizza shop. And by some miracle, they’re hiring for the summer.

⊹ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 2.9k ⊹ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 female pizza chef y/n x virgin photographer Jaemin ⊹ 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 virgin au, college au, fluff, smut ⊹ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 swearing, masturbation ⊹ 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 🦷 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 Dedicated to @nochv. I’m so sick of this fic I don’t even want to look at it anymore. Let’s pretend he’s still 20. ⊹ 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | disclaimer | masterlist

　“You’re a–a virgin?” Renjun exclaims.

　Jaemin shrugs. “Yeah.”

　Renjun’s gaze flitters around his apartment as he tries to make sense of this bewildering information. “You’re telling me, you’ve travelled to every single continent but you haven’t had sex?”

　“Yeah,” Jaemin responds blankly.

　“Oh...sorry.”

　Scratching his neck awkwardly, Renjun silently curses himself. Although there isn’t a trace of discomfort on Jaemin’s face, Renjun knows he’s out of line. It just feels odd that in the past three years of college, Renjun and his friends have been enjoying good pussy while Jaemin has been enjoying...his hand.

　Granted, Jaemin has had a unique undergraduate experience being flown all over the world for his breathless photography. But all the more reason to believe his friend wasn’t a virgin, and that he had a global taste in women. While Jaemin never mentioned anyone in a romantic or sexual context, Renjun always assumed he was too free-spirited for commitment.

　Jaemin shrugs again. “It’s cool.” He smiles reassuringly at Renjun before opening the apartment door. “Gonna grab some pizza. See ya.”

　Renjun tries to match his smile. “M‘kay. You’re coming to class tomorrow, right?”

　Airpods in and phone raised to his face, Jaemin has already slipped into his own world. Regardless of Renjun’s unheard question, Jaemin stubbornly determined the first week of the school semester wasn’t relevant enough for him to attend. But as for the subject of his virginity, Jaemin is truly unaffected, the discussion slowly dimming in his memory.

　It’s not that Jaemin isn’t interested in sex, there had been a handful of times that he longed for another body in his bed. It’s more so that there's no one that interests him. He gets plenty of female attention and yet they all seem so bland. He likes who he likes and ignores who he doesn’t. And he ignores most people.

　His friends like joking that he’s not meant to be a pre-med student but a hermit living in a shack in a desolate forest. Privately, Jaemin agrees with them and longs for the freedom to explore the beckoning world with his camera. By the time he was a freshman, he had earned enough money from freelance work to pay for his undergraduate school.

　But his mother wants him to be a doctor so here he is, wasting away as a painfully average biology major in the city, busting his ass to prepare for the Medical College Admission Test (MCAT). However, her desires won’t stop him from taking every job offer he receives.

　As Jaemin walks to the pizza shop, his eyes don’t shift away from the crisp and quixotic images of the Sobaek mountain range he’ll be flying out to in the morning. He doesn’t pay mind to the teenaged skaters attempting kickflips or the chains of middle-aged speed walkers gossiping about their neighbors. Clicking the volume button, Jaemin blocks out any unnecessary human disturbances. Only when he reaches the restaurant’s entrance, Jaemin finally raises his head to open the front door and greet the hostess.

　Slumped over the cash register, you’re on the clock and engrossed in a tense game of sudoku on your phone. Deliberating where the 9 belongs, you waste your last chance and angrily fling a spare pen over the counter. When the capped side of the pen arrows into a pair checkered Vans, your eyes climb up the long jeans and white tee to find…

　“Shit.”

　You can tell this guy is handsome just from his outfit. Despite layering a yellow flannel underneath an unfortunate cardigan akin to the American flag, he manages to make the color clash work. You suppose with inexplicably attractive features, anything can look good.

　A side part is the only disruption of his perfectly symmetrical face and yet every strand is positioned without flaw. You like the way his wispy bangs fall just over his eyes. Eyes that blink at you with disinterest.

　Realizing you have been staring for too long, you clear your throat to greet the customer. “Welcome to the Dreamy Pizzas, how may I help you?”

　Jaemin smiles awkwardly as he picks up the pen and extends it to you. “Uh, yes. Can I have a booth?”

　Grimacing, you quickly take the pen and set it back next to the register. Sweeping a plastic menu into your arms, you accept the fact this customer just watched you throw a mini tantrum and is very aware that you checked him out.

　Glancing behind him, you expectedly place your hand on the stack of menus. “Should I bring another menu?” you offer.

　Jaemin shakes his head, recognizing that you think someone else will join him. “No. It’s just me.”

　You hide your eyebrow raise with a low nod and lead him towards a booth.

　It is rather uncommon to see a 20-year-old eating alone at a restaurant. But Jaemin enjoys solidarity and he’s never felt embarrassed about doing things alone.

　“Do you not serve potato pizza?” Jaemin asks politely after a brief scan through the menu.

　He likes potato pizza too?

　Your body stiffens in surprise. “Uh, no. We don’t have potato pizza on the menu. But I…I could make it for you.”

　An irresistible grin spreads across Jaemin’s lips. “That would be great, a small please.”

　Dazzled by his smile, you blink slowly. “Okay, it—it’ll be ready in ten to fifteen minutes.”

　Rushing to the kitchen, you fumble with your phone and the aux cord. It takes three tries to properly plug the cord into your phone. Scrolling through your music library, you click on the album cover with the blue ballooned heart and press play. You need some music to calm yourself down.

　A familiar grunting bass and hasty rap verse splits through the hum of an oscillating fan. Jaemin’s eyes snap to the kitchen window to find the source of the noise, and spots you wiping your recently washed hands against a - an apron? Aren’t you the server or hostess? You’re the cook?

　Whizzing his head back to the front counter where Jaemin had assumed you were standing, his eyes lock on the pen launched at him earlier. Peering around the small restaurant and through the back kitchen, the only other person in sight is you. Warming on the oven, there’s a tall stack of pick-up orders with receipts tucked under each box. Evidently, you’re the one who made them. You’re operating a pizza restaurant alone.

　Semi-skilled in the kitchen himself, Jaemin has always taken an interest in those with culinary expertise. But running an entire restaurant, that was impressive.

　He watches as you carefully slice a potato into paper-thin circles with your chin practically in your neck. Waiting for your head to lift, Jaemin wants to see the face of the girl who is making his pizza. His stare firms on your hairline but your head doesn’t raise. So focused on your face, Jaemin doesn’t notice your trembling fingers.

　Cracking your knuckles, you reposition the shaking knife on the potato. You’re inexplicably attracted to this customer, a stranger, and your proficiency in the kitchen is sorely affected by it. Groaning, you raise the volume of the music to try drowning out your thoughts of him.

　Realizing you forgot to bring Jaemin an ice water, you bolt back to the sitting area with a plastic cup in hand. “Sorry about the wait,” you apologize, keeping your daze down. You have a bad feeling that eye contact will render you a fool.

　“It’s fine–wait!” Jaemin calls as you make a break for the kitchen.

　You tuck your lips into your mouth, trying to tuck away the quivering feeling in your chest. You quickly spin to see what he wants. “Yeah?”

　Jaemin had looked at you before but not properly. And now he couldn’t seem to look away. Grappling for a reason to make you stay, his ears pick up the bridge of the song playing. “Um, is–is this ‘Hello Future’?”

　He recognized the song?

　You hesitate. Just because he knows the song doesn’t mean he likes it. “Yeah...”

　Lifting his phone in your direction, Jaemin shows you the screen. The same ballooned heart stares back at you. “I was just listening to it when I came in.”

　He’s smiling at you again and you can feel yourself freezing in your spot. “It’s my favorite song right now,” you’re somehow saying.

　“Mine too,” Jaemin responds happily.

　You’re about to ask for his name when your manager, Taeil, bursts through the front door. Not wanting to look unproductive, you retreat back to the kitchen. Softly smiling as you look down at the thin layer of dough, you prepare Jaemin’s pizza with renewed confidence.

　Jaemin keeps sneaking looks at the kitchen window, his hunger replaced with something else. There’s a fluttering feeling in his chest when he looks in your direction, a foreign feeling. It makes him uneasy but strangely excited.

　“What is this?” Taeil calls, pointing to Jaemin’s pizza when it rolls out of the oven conveyor belt.

　“A potato pizza,” you explain slowly. You gesture in Jaemin’s direction, “He requested it.”

　You know that expression on your manager’s face. You saw it too many times when you were a new employee.

　Taeil scowls. “Good cooks stick to the menu so please respect ours in the future. Make sure you let the customer know that this won’t happen again.”

　 Your throat tightens. “Okay, I will. I’m sorry sir.”

　Taeil sighs. “Maybe you’re not ready to be left alone in the shop.”

　You frown. “I know how to do everything. I don’t need help between the lunch and dinner rush.”

　“Well clearly, you don’t know how to tell a customer ‘no’!”

　“The first thing you taught me is that the customer is always right,” you huff.

　Taeil narrows his eyes. “You won’t serve another off-menu pizza again, okay?”

　“It won’t happen again,” you mutter, glaring down at your sneakers.

　“Put it in a take out box instead of a plate. Hopefully, that’ll prompt him to leave so no one sees it,” Taeil instructs shortly as he stomps into the kitchen.

　Placing the potato pizza into a white cardboard box, you silently slice it into squares. It’s been months since you last got scolded. It’s not a good feeling. You’ve been on Taeil’s bad side since you started working here, likely because you had a spine but you worried your mouth would get you fired. And you desperately needed this job.

　You slide the box on Jaemin’s table with a forced smile. “My manager wanted me to inform you I cannot make an off-menu item again.”

　Before Jaemin can respond, you’re already spinning on your heel to collect your backpack from the kitchen. Angrily tearing off your apron, you jam your headphones into your ears and play ‘Hello Future’ again. Clocking out, you shout your departure to your manager, and kick open the front door. At least your shift is over and you can spend the rest of the day moping in your apartment.

　Downing a gulp of his water, Jaemin snatches the pizza box from the table, races towards the front of the restaurant, and shoves the door open. He nervously crunches on the lumpy ice cubes as he stalks towards you unlocking your bike from a lamp post. Realizing he never paid for his pizza, Jaemin takes out a twenty from his wallet and thrusts it forward.

　Your eyes fall on the extended money.

　“Can I help you with something?” you ask impatiently as you shove your bike lock into your backpack. You don’t bother to look up.

　You’ve worked at a number of food service jobs which somehow means you're the world’s waitress. This wouldn’t be the first time a stranger has come up to you with money and an obscene request. And after an eight hour shift, you’re caked in flour and littered in oil stains and your tolerance is about to snap.

　Your voice is unexpectedly sharp and a glare scrunches your face. Cute, Jaemin thinks mindlessly. Wait. Cute?? “Just–just wanted to pay you.”

　Your gaze raises to his face. Fuck. It’s him. The reason you’re in trouble right now. You force out a smile, quickly take the money, and stuff the bill into the back pocket of your shorts. “Thanks, hope you enjoy!” Fuck off now please.

　Jaemin throws his hand forward to reach for your shoulder. “Wait!”

　You turn slowly, about to scream in frustration. What more could he want? “What?”

　Jaemin gulps. He knows you got lectured because of him. Because you were just trying to be kind to him. “I know it’s not really my place to say but…I think you’re a great cook.”

　You scoff, looking down at his unopened box. “You’ve never even tried my pizzas.”

　Toeing up the kickstand, you lunge forward on the bike, leaving Jaemin behind in dismay.

　Normally, you’re not this rude but you’re tired and pissed and the only thing standing between you and your bed is this customer. Besides, class starts tomorrow and you haven’t checked to see which buildings you would have lectures in.

　Unlatching the cardboard flaps from the holes, Jaemin lifts the top. Lips parting, he gapes at the box in wonder. Inspired by your shared music taste, you had cut the dough of the potato pizza into the shape of a heart. He realizes the shape is modeled off the cover art of Hello Future but he can’t help but wish it held another meaning.

　Jaemin watches you bike away in a thick daze, unable to tear his eyes away from the back of your thighs. They look so soft and squeezable…

　Clapping his hands against his cheeks, Jaemin shakes his head. What the fuck was that?

　Walking back to his apartment, he shovels pizza slices into his mouth, aggressively gnawing until there’s nothing left. Jaemin has eaten countless pizzas from all over the world but he finds yours especially delicious. What is it that’s drawing him in?

　There’s a strange pent up energy moving his legs forward faster than normal. Jaemin feels frustrated - that much he can gather.

　It’s not until he falls into bed that Jaemin understands what kind of frustration he’s experiencing.

　At first, he’s innocently folding his hands across his chest. Eyes closed, Jaemin heaves out a few irritated breaths. The next thing he knows, his hand is sneaking down his stomach with you in his thoughts.

　Jaemin feels disgusting that he's craving the body of a girl he doesn’t even know the name of. But as his hand loosens his jean button and wrestles the zipper down, his brain doesn’t pause to question the morality of the situation. He’s stupidly hard and all he can think of is the way your legs looked as you peddled away.

　Raising his shoulders, Jaemin fumbles with the bottle as he pumps lotion into his hand. His fingers are unusually light as he imagines your hand easing the cool lubricant down his cock.

　“Fuck,” Jaemin huffs as he pictures you rolling your pointer finger across his slit, his own finger following the image.

　 Impatiently pumping more lotion into his hand, he closes his eyes as he continues imagining your hand running up and down his dick. Tightening his clamp, Jaemin moans loudly from the sensation. His cock has never felt so hard.

　Jaemin’s thoughts are on your thighs, how they flexed when you rode forward on your bike and how they would flex when you rode his dick. How your wetness would look dripping down your thighs and how Jaemin would lick up your pleasure until he reached your core. He pictures how it would feel to grip your thighs and pull them apart before entering you. How he would hold them high while fucking into you.

　Grabbing his swollen ball sac, he pulls it and his hips rise from the rush of pleasure. Panting, Jaemin opens his eyes, straining down to look at the desperate way he fucks his hand.

　“God, I’m so pathetic,” Jaemin mutters as he begins thrusting upward.

　Closing his eyes again, he refocuses his imagination on your neck. Jaemin imagines licking your neck while you squirm underneath him. He wonders if you’ll whine or swear when he leaves hickies below your ear. He thinks about how you’ll tilt your head back so he can bury his face into your neck while he’s buried in you.

　His wrist and hips moving at an ungodly pace, Jaemin groans loudly. “Come, you piece of shit, come!”

　Gradually slowing his hand as cum shoots onto his shirt, Jaemin heaves an unsatisfied sigh. Wrenching off his cardigan, flannel, and tee, he launches the clothes into his dirty laundry basket in the corner. Sliding his laptop onto his bare chest, Jaemin’s fingers seek out the fantasies he had got off to earlier.

　Scrolling through the videos, Jaemin’s eyes hurriedly inspect the bodies of the girls, trying to find one with a similar face and shape. After two minutes of aggressive scrolling, Jaemin slams his laptop shut and angrily rips his boxers and jeans off his legs. It’s no use. Nothing except you will do.

　Whipping his comforter over his naked body, he squirms uncomfortably in bed. Cock still semi-hard, Jaemin groans. “Well, I’m fucked.”

834 notes · View notes