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girlygguk · 6 months ago

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FIRST CLASS | JJK (m)

SUMMARY in which you are just another spoiled, bitchy, annoyingly gorgeous trust-fund baby who has everyone at Yonsei University eating from the palm of your hand. and jeon jungkook, your spoiled, fuck-boy, annoyingly gorgeous trust-fund baby best friend, is always first in line to take a bite.

𓍯𓂃

PAIRING rich student!jk x (f)rich student!reader

WORDCOUNT 25k+

RATING 18+ MINORS DNI

GENRE smut, fluff, angst. university au, f2l

CONTENT childhood best friends, nepo baby!reader, nepo baby!jk, tae sister!reader, heavy pining, heavy cursing, a bit of crack throughout, (soft?) fuckboy!jk, whipped!jk, simp!jk, kinda emotionally constipated!reader, lack of & miscommunication, the most dramatic fic you’ll ever read, jk has his tats & shorter hair (ref in banner pic), jk is a tits guy and reader has big tiddies, jk & reader are very touchy and lovey friends, reader is kind of a bitch to those she doesn't care about, reader is rich but jk is richer 😩, arguments between mcs, jealousy, bottled up feelings, toxic/unhealthy friendship if u were to really think about it, jk & reader have active sex lives beforehand, reader is in a fwb situation beforehand, there is an explicit scene between reader & a side character (but no sex), punch up/fight scene/blood, potential/near-miss car accident, 2 scenes where characters get badly physically injured, alcohol consumption, use of a few male idol names (mingyu, jaehyun, felix), the rest of bangtan are side characters, the last like 9k(?) is literally just smut helppp, happy ending.

18+ WARNINGS making out, grinding, dry humping, fingering (f rec.), oral (both rec.), slight exhibition?..you'll see, pet names during sex, dirty talk, use of the word slut in praise, so much praising, biting, jk likes the pain ok, body worship, tiddy sucking, mentions of tiddy fucking, ball play, nipple play, multiple orgasms, bigg dick jk, soft dom!jungkook, subby!reader, unprotected sex, ocs a pro dick riderr 🙂��↕️, creampie, sweet aftercare

author's note thank you all so much for the love on the teaser! it truly motivated me to finish this quicker than i ever expected. however, proofing such a long piece was a veryyy different experience to what i'm used to, so if u see any inaccuracies or timeline inconsistencies... no u don't <3

main masterlist | join my taglist | banner credit

first class ; noun /ˌfəːs(t) ˈklɑːs/ a set of people or things grouped together as the best.

The biting cold of the winter evening settles over Yonsei University's lacrosse field, floodlights casting long shadows on the frosted grass. You pull your mink coat tighter around yourself, the chill seeping through despite your layers. Sitting on the bleachers with Park Jimin and his twin sister, Park Minji, you watch the game unfold.

The match is in full swing: Yonsei versus Hanyang, another top South Korean university. The excitement is palpable as the outdoor stadium fills with spectators, creating a sea of blue and green—the colors of the respective teams they are rooting for. Jimin wears a blue puffer jacket in support, while your roommate Minji is swimming in a blue long-sleeve sports jersey that definitely does not belong to her, you think with a smirk.

You initially weren't going to attend tonight due to other plans, which is why you aren't sporting anything blue. But, after a whiny 20-minute call from your insufferable best friend, you canceled on Mingyu last minute and tagged along with the Parks. Not that you would've dressed in all royal blue anyway… you're not fucking crazy. But maybe you would've added a blue ribbon to your hair or something.

Taehyung and Jungkook, co-captains of the Yonsei team, are in their element, dominating the field with effortless skill. You watch as your brother and Jungkook easily clear the opposing team, their movements synchronized and precise.

Jimin nudges you with a gloved hand, his breath visible in the frigid air. "Your brother and Kook are killing it out there," he says, his eyes following the action on the field.

You nod, cheeks flushed from the cold. Giving him a hum in agreement, you glance over at Minji. Her focused gaze keeps drifting back to Number 12, almost subconsciously, before realizing and snapping back to the middle of the field.

You look away in amusement, focusing on the game again and watching as Number 12, Kim Namjoon, swiftly catches the ball flying through the air with his racket before bolting through an opening in Hanyang's layout.

As the game progresses, the Hanyang team rallies, their determination pushing them closer and closer to Yonsei's lead. The crowd tenses as the score tightens, but you remain composed. You've seen this scenario play out countless times before.

There are 20 seconds left in the match, and Yonsei is down by two points. The twins have matching pouts on their lips, beginning to come to terms with your school receiving their first defeat of the season.

You watch as Hanyang makes the pitiful mistake of trying to make a risky pass by Number 1.

In the blink of an eye, Number 1's racket shoots out and intercepts the catch, and with a final burst of speed, Jungkook breaks right through the opposing defense. His eyes lock on the goal, and with a powerful swing, he sends the ball soaring into the net.

The crowd erupts, cheers reverberating across the field as the final buzzer blares, signaling the end of the game. You can't help but smile at Jungkook's skill.

The Yonsei team quickly swarms around Jungkook, their cheers morphing into a sea of bodies that envelop him, eventually toppling him to the ground in a dogpile. As they begin to disperse, Taehyung leans down to his co-captain with a proud grin.

Jungkook takes Taehyung's hand with a chuckle, the elder hoisting him to his feet before draping an arm around his shoulder. Jungkook pulls off his helmet, shaking out his damp curls, which cling stubbornly to his forehead. His eyes then drift towards the bleachers, where he suddenly loses his train of thought.

There you are, in all your glory—wrapped in a long, expensive chocolate mink coat, cheeks flushed pink from the cold air.

Your smooth legs, sheathed in sheer stockings, disappear into boots that likely cost as much as a teenager's first car. He wonders about the color of your skirt hidden beneath your coat—is it brown to match, or black to complement your boots? The color, he isn't certain, but he does know it is either a skirt or a dress. You would never be caught dead in trousers and even avoid jeans if you can. Personally, Jungkook thinks you look spectacular in jeans.

Your hair hangs loose, styled pin-straight but tousled slightly by the breeze, and his fingers itch to tuck the stray strands behind your ear. You are engrossed in conversation with Jimin and Minji as the three of you descend the bleacher seats, now heading towards him and your brother. Your brother, who is now holding his helmet under his right arm, uses his left to tug his best friend out of his trance and towards their friends.

You and the Park siblings weave through the amped-up crowd before finally reaching where the co-captains are peeling off their gloves.

Jimin clasps Taehyung's hand, pulling him into a warm, brotherly hug. "That was a fucking game, Tae!" He exclaims, a wide grin spreading across his face before giving the same greeting to Jungkook.

Minji follows suit, hugging Taehyung quickly before turning to Jungkook with a playful smirk. “You had us scared for a second, Kook,” she teases, “thought you weren’t gonna make that last shot.”

Jungkook chuckles, returning Minji's hug before leaning back and chucking his helmet on the ground, waiting for you to finish congratulating your brother.

"All part of the show," he replies to the twin with a wink before you pull away from Tae and float to him like second nature.

Nobody bats an eye as your arms slink around his shoulders, linking behind his neck. His taller frame leans down slightly on instinct, and his arms wrap around your waist. His face buries gently into your neck, pulling you a little closer. Your perfume renders Jungkook dazed, and he knows that he is a sweaty mess and smells like one too, but even if you notice, you don't mention it.

"Hi," he mumbles, his breath tickling your skin, causing you to smile and pull away slightly.

"Hi," you echo sweetly, noticing his eyes flicker down to where your coat has parted and your black Hermès mini-skirt peeks through.

You are about to ask him if he likes it because you just bought it yesterday, but he is quick to draw your coat tighter around you, probably not wanting the cold air to nip at you any longer.

He picks up his helmet and gloves, his tattooed arm slipping comfortably over your shoulder as the five of you head towards the locker rooms.

Your head rests against the side of his chest while you walk, and your friends are still beaming about Yonsei's fourth consecutive win of the season. Jungkook slows his steps slightly, letting the rest of your group pull slightly ahead.

"Glad you came," he says softly, his skin tingling as your nails lightly scratch against his shirt where your hand rests around his waist.

"Yeah, you better be," you hum teasingly, "Mingyu was not happy."

Jungkook swallows the lump in his throat before forcing out a laugh, "Tell him I'll make it up to him. Take him out on a date myself."

Your giggle soothes the ache in his chest before it returns tenfold at your response, "wasn't a date. Was just going to see him."

"Ohhaahah," his attempt at a laugh comes out more strained than he intends, and you snort, amused by his discomfort.

Before he can protest, you interlock his hand with yours and lead him towards the locker room, his steps quickening to match yours. He follows behind you like a puppy dog, as if this was your locker room and you were showing it to him for the first time.

A chaotic mix of celebration and exhaustion echoes throughout the building as you walk through the door that Tae holds open. The smell of sweaty lacrosse players all but hits you in the face, and Jungkook watches in amusement as your nose scrunches slightly. The warm air is welcoming though, and you let out a sigh as it works to defrost your frozen skin.

The changing room is packed to the brim with sweaty college boys high-fiving, recounting the game's highlights, and shedding off their gear. Jungkook lets go of your hand when you and Minji go over to say hi to Namjoon.

Taehyung is caught up in conversation with the coach, who is commending the team's performance and already running through some things they can work on in preparation for next month's match.

"Jaykayyyyyy!!"

"Let's fucking gooo, Jeon!"

"Good shit tonight, JK!"

You release Namjoon from the hug and turn towards the sudden commotion coming from the other side of the locker room.

Your best friend is at the center of the group, his teammates slapping his back and tousling his hair while showering him with praise. You notice his bunny-like teeth peeking out as he grins. No matter how confidently he carries himself throughout the day, he still flushes at compliments, which makes you roll your eyes amusedly.

Jungkook breaks away from the group and heads to his locker to check his phone while you return your attention to Namjoon and Minji, who are now caught in a quiet conversation.

You head over to Jimin, who looks to be passionately explaining something to Hobi and Yoongi, judging by his broad and exaggerated hand movements. He is a drama major though, so you can never be too sure.

A vibrating noise cuts your journey short. You fish your phone from your coat pocket and begrudgingly slip out of the locker room back into the cold air before answering. "Hey, Gyu."

"Hey, Y/N." Mingyu's tone is low and strained, like he’s in pain almost.

You tuck the strands of hair that were getting picked up by the wind behind your ear. "How can I help you?" you ask.

"Y/N," he grunts out a pained laugh, and you click.

You hear shuffling on the other side of the line while he sits up against his headboard.

"Yes? What do you need?" You're not going to do the work for him, and he knew that. He felt pathetic even making the call in the first place.

He goes quiet for a moment, and you pull your phone from your ear to glance at the time. "It's only 8 pm, and you sound like you're already in bed."

Mingyu nods as if you could see him, "I am. I have been for a while," he admits before asking you how the game was. You know he didn't actually give a shit about the game, but you still entertain him and answer

He drags out the conversation for a few minutes, running his hand through his hair at your voice. He doesn't want to hear it through the phone; he wants to hear it in person. He wants you to be in his room right now, like you said you would be.

Mingyu hates how disinterested you sound. Mingyu also hates how that very disinterested tone makes his cock throb in his sweatpants. You couldn't care less about him, whereas all he's been doing since you canceled on him three hours ago is lay in bed and fucking think about you. He sighs before biting the bullet, "Are you still coming over?"

Your brows furrow slightly, "Oh, I thought I told you that I was—"

"Can you still come over?" He rephrases his question, "please?"

Your lips purse as you consider it for a second. You don't have any classes tomorrow, so you guess you could head to his later tonight.

You're about to respond when the sound of the door opening behind you causes you to turn around.

You watch as the wealthiest student in the entire university approaches you, now dressed in a plain black hoodie and a pair of joggers, running a towel through his wet hair. It no longer looks sweaty wet but instead shampooed wet, so you assume he had a quick shower. "Hey, you okay? Why are you out here in the cold?"

"One second," you say into the phone before lowering it and moving closer to Jungkook. He closes your fur coat tightly around you again as it comes open from the strong wind while he waits for your response.

"Came out here to take a call. Too loud in there."

He nods, throwing the towel over his shoulder. "'K. We're going to Hanji's to eat. Did you want to ride with me?"

You're about to agree without even thinking when you remember the boy waiting on the other end of the call.

"Ah," you mutter, lifting the phone back to your ear. "I'll come over at like 11?" you say to Mingyu, not catching the frown that coats Jungkook's lips.

Mingyu almost protests but knows that 11 is better than nothing and stops himself. "Sweet. Just text me if you need me to pick you up."

You thank him before saying your goodbyes and ending the call. You look up at your best friend, his gaze unfocused. "Can I?" you ask.

"Hmm?" he hums, blinking a few times before focusing on your face.

"Ride with you?"

"Yeah," he smiles down at you, letting you link your arm with his as he leads you back into the warm locker room.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

Hanji's is loud. The clamor of sizzling grills and busy cooks no match for the chatter of students and customers that fill the room. You sip on an iced tea as your friends laugh and chat, still basking in tonight's victory.

Snug between your brother and Jungkook, you rest your head on the latter's shoulder, sipping your drink through a paper straw. His arm drapes over the back of the booth's chair, allowing you to settle comfortably as he chats with the swim team captain, Jin, who sits on the opposite side of the booth.

Your coat is folded on Jungkook's lap now that you're surrounded by the warm air of the diner, and his tattooed fingers play absentmindedly with the spaghetti strap of your top.

Taehyung leans over and snatches a dumpling from your untouched plate with his chopsticks, causing you to glance at him in faux annoyance. Your brother knows you don't actually care and flashes you a big, toothy grin which you can’t help but return.

You push the plate toward him, wordlessly telling him to have it all and his eyes light up for a split second before his brows furrow. "Why aren't you eating?" he asks concernedly, his words slightly muffled by a mouthful of food.

"Ate just before the game, I'm full," you reply, nodding when he asks if you're sure and watching him grab another dumpling.

Liar. Jungkook thinks as he watches Jin's mouth move but is unfocused on the words he's actually saying.

You don't eat before a link, a habit of yours Jungkook is very aware of, having asked you not to do it countless times before.

It's not that deep, you always tell him; you just don't enjoy sex much with a full stomach, it makes you feel sorta sick. And food always tastes better after sex anyway.

He glances down at you for a second, and you're already looking his way, your pretty eyes boring into his as if daring him to mention anything to your brother. His tongue darts out to lick his lips as he turns away, attempting to hide his smile at your attitude.

Jin cracks a joke and glances at you for a reaction, prompting you to roll your eyes and laugh. He pumps his fist in the air triumphantly, earning a playful smack from his girlfriend.

Your friends are always like that—acting as if making you laugh is some monumental achievement. You're not a masochist; you don't avoid laughing on purpose. But you're rich, intelligent, and pretty... It takes a lot to impress you. Jungkook makes you laugh a lot though.

Seated next to Jin is his gorgeous high-school sweetheart, Mia, and next to her is your ever-so pouty housemate, Minji. You quietly observe Minji's gaze as it frequently drifts to the booth adjacent to yours, where Yoongi, his boyfriend Hobi, Jimin, and, most importantly, Namjoon are seated.

Minji sighs softly, snapping out of her daze as she looks down at her cider. Taehyung is laughing at something Jin said, leaning forward in front of you slightly to engage in conversation with the swimmer on the other side of the table. You take this moment to check on your friend.

Your head lifts off Jungkook's shoulder, and he resists the urge to turn and ask why, trying to stay focused on the story his Hyung is telling. You catch Minji's eye, offering her a small, questioning smile. She returns it as best she can before her expression morphs back into a troubled pout, and she shakes her head slightly.

You nod in understanding, tapping Jungkook's thigh as a signal that you'll be right back and ask Taehyung to let you out of the booth. Your brother stands, allowing you to shuffle out, and you grasp Minji's hand, tugging her along to the restroom.

Jungkook glances over, watching you usher Minji away from the table, and from the corner of his eye, he notices Namjoon looking over too.

Fifteen minutes go by, and you're reapplying Minji's mascara, which she cried off during her tearful spiel about her situationship.

"It's like h-he—" she pauses to hiccup, and you move the wand away to let her breathe, "—he just likes to mess with my fucking head! Every time we hook up he's all like 'Minjiiiiyahhh,'" you snicker at her imitation of his voice.

"’I can't get enough of you! I wanna do this forever!' but then when we're with everyone, it's like he's scared to even stand next to me! God, is he like, embarrassed of me or something?" She seethes, shaking her head in frustration.

You lift a tissue to her lash line, dabbing at the fresh tears brewing and scoff. "Embarrassed of you? Don't be ridiculous," you say, capping the mascara and sliding it back into her clutch, giving up on the rescue mission as the tears just keep coming.

"You are gorgeous," you turn your body to lean against the basin with her, linking her arm in yours. "Smart," you continue, resting your head on her shoulder. "Funny... sometimes," you tease, and she lets out a tearful giggle, her trembly hands curling around your arm as she snuggles into you in gratitude.

"God, I'm literally wearing his jersey. How pathetic." She laughs at herself, and your brows furrow slightly.

"How is that pathetic? I'm sure he wanted you to wear it, didn't he?"

"Well yeah... He was actually really cute when he asked if I would. He was all shy and shit. Fuck sakes," she groans in frustration, "it makes everything even more confusing!"

"Maybe he's just shy about showing affection in front of people? I mean, he is literally a computer science major..." You trail off and smile when she whines and wacks the arm of yours that she's leaning on.

"Seriously, though, don't cry over a guy, Min. And especially don't question your worth because of him." The bathroom falls silent except for her soft sniffles at your words.

You hand her the tissue that you're holding before adding, "You need to talk and set things straight with him, or you're just going to continue hurting." You internally scoff at the hypocrisy of your own words, but your roommate is none the wiser, nodding at you in agreement.

After a moment, she speaks quietly, "I wish I could be more like you."

"How so?" you ask, though you already have an inkling.

"You never get attached to the guys you hang with. I wish I could do that. It seems so much more freeing."

You hum half-heartedly in response, watching her dab at her eyes one last time before turning to wash her hands. Her words linger, echoing in your mind longer than they should. No, you don't get attached. Because you already know firsthand just how much it fucking sucks when the feelings aren't mutual.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

It's 11:12 pm. The scent of your Chanel No. 5 lingers in the air, blending with Jungkook's soft hums to his car radio. The warm air from the heater makes your eyes droop slightly.

"You have a nice voice," you murmur, toying with the tattooed fingers resting on your stocking-clad thigh.

He glances at you briefly, a small smile playing on his lips. "You always say that," he replies, eyes returning to the road as he stops at a red light.

"Because it's true," you state simply. "Do you disagree?"

He laughs softly at your bluntness, a familiar flush creeping up his neck. "Maybe."

"Hm," you roll your eyes, lifting one of his fingers and letting it drop before repeating the motion with the others. "Whatever, golden boy."

"Ya," he chuckles, squeezing your thigh gently, "don't call me that."

You tilt your head slightly, meeting his gaze. "You let everyone else call you that."

His lips purse into a slight pout. "Not you."

You blink at him, the corner of your lips twitching into a smile at his big, boba eyes. He just keeps staring at you, letting you fiddle with his hand. After a few long moments, you giggle at his dazed-out expression. "Light's green, Gukkie."

He snaps out of it instantly, facing back toward the road, and his foot hits the gas pedal a little quicker than intended. That's better, he thinks.

A few minutes later, he turns into the familiar entrance of Yonsei University, steering the car down the path that leads to the Delta Sigma Phi fraternity house. As he pulls into a parking spot in front of the building, you're halfway through sending a text, so he waits for you to finish before cutting off the heater.

You lock your phone and glance up just as he extracts the keys from the ignition. He pats your thigh gently before climbing out of the car. You follow suit, rounding the vehicle to meet him by the driver's side.

Instinctively, he reaches for your hand, fingers entwining, and you rest your head against his arm as you both ascend the front steps to the frat.

The foyer is dark as Jungkook leads you inside. He maneuvers through the hall effortlessly, even without his sight. He guides you up the stairs to the second floor, your hands still locked together, and he turns to face you when you reach the door to his bedroom.

You look up at him with a dumb smile, and he leans down to bury his face in your neck before he says something dumber. His back presses against the door, and as you lean into him, the scent of his clean, linen hoodie fills your senses.

Jungkook's love language is physical touch, and you let him have his moment, keening slightly when he nudges the side of your neck with his pretty nose. YYour phone buzzes in your pocket, but you ignore it, wanting to spend five more minutes with your best friend.

"Do you have class tomorrow?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to be heard by his housemates.

He doesn't say anything, just shakes his head wordlessly, his curls tickling your skin as he does.

"Movie tomorrow then?" you suggest softly, letting him lean back slightly to look at you.

The moment you see the flicker of guilt in his eyes, you know his response before he even forms the words. His pouty lips part, ready to offer an excuse when you squint your eyes and lean away from him.

"Jesus, Jeongguk." You groan, still keeping your voice low, but he can hear the annoyance loud and clear. "Why do you get all pouty and sad when you have other plans? It's okay."

Jungkook's eyebrows furrow. He edges forward, trying to maintain some form of physical contact, but you just shrug him off. "I already agreed to it last night. I'm sorry, Y/N."

You let out a frustrated sigh and roll your eyes. "Why are you fucking apologizing?" Your words have bite, but he doesn't react, simply leaning closer to you even though you continue to distance yourself.

You know you're overreacting in a sense, but every time he has plans with a girl, he always apologizes with that stupid fucking pout and those stupid fucking puppy dog eyes. And it's only when it's with another girl.

You weren't upset; you were well aware of his active sex life. It's like he expects you to burst into tears whenever he tells you he's seeing someone. Why the fuck would you care?

Jungkook reaches out to you in a last attempt to grab your hand, and you just stare at it, not making any move to accept the gesture. He sighs, letting his hand fall to his side while he looks at your pissed-off expression.

"Why?" You try again.

Jungkook's shoulders slump, and he looks down, avoiding your gaze. "I don't know," he responds softly. He barely catches the annoyance on your face fading, soon replaced with something that tugs at his heart even more—boredom.

"Okay then, Gukkie. Sleep well, we'll talk later," you say, nodding as you step closer to him. Your arms wrap around him in a quick hug, and before he can even react, you're walking down to the other end of the hall.

Jungkook's eyes stay focused on the ground, listening to your footsteps getting further away.

It's not until he hears a soft knock on his frat-mate's bedroom door and a fucked-out, "Shitttt, look at you," come from Mingyu that he scoffs, turning into his room and slamming the door behind him.

Thirty minutes pass, then an hour, then two, as Jungkook lies grumpily on his bed, glaring at his bedroom ceiling.

There was an unmistakable bang of a headboard against the wall down the hall at minute forty-five, followed quickly by your hushed voice telling Mingyu to keep it down. Jungkook hasn't been able to close his eyes since.

"Why are you fucking apologizing?"

Your words ring in his head as he tosses under his blanket uncomfortably, giving up before ripping it off his body a bit too aggressively, causing it to fall to the ground.

"I don't know."

Dirty fucking liar, his subconscious snickers.

Of course he knew. He's always fucking known. It's subconscious; the way he can't stop the apology from spewing from his lips every time.

He wants you to be upset. He wants you to get angry at him for sleeping with other girls. He wants you to ask him not to go.

But you don't. You never do. If anything, you encourage it. And there he is, apologizing like a fucking idiot for something that you don't even care about. Every time he sees that disinterested look in your eyes, it feels like a sour punch to the gut.

Jungkook's mind races as he tries to figure out why he keeps doing this to himself. Why he keeps hoping for a reaction that never comes. He thinks about the way you hugged him earlier, the fleeting moment of closeness before you walked away without a second thought. You're so good at that.

He rolls onto his side, trying for the nth time to close his eyes, the sounds of your muffled laughter and Mingyu's low murmurs mocking him through the thin walls.

Jungkook clenches his jaw, the frustration gnawing at him, a constant reminder of what he can't have. He wants to move on, to stop letting you have this power over him. He laughs at the thought.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

Two days later, you're sitting in your afternoon Linguistics class, sandwiched between Jimin and Aerum. Why Jimin didn’t take the spot in the middle if he was going to let her sit near you guys, you’re un-fucking-sure.

Aerum isn't part of your inner circle, but she likes hanging around. You know her type—fake and a gossip. She attempts to make small talk with you throughout the class, but your answers are curt and disinterested.

"—even surprised? As if Jeongguk hasn't slept his way through half the campus already." Aerum giggles, twirling a strand of her hair. That gets your attention.

You don't even look up from your notebook, continuing to jot down what the professor says. "Don't talk about him like that," you say, your tone flat, causing Aerum to falter for a second.

She nervously chuckles, "It's not a secret he gets around, Y/N. You know that..."

Unamused, you finish off your notes, letting her brew for a second, before finally lifting your gaze. You lean in a little, and Aerum shuffles closer as if you were about to let her in on some juicy tea.

"I don't care if he took your mother over the kitchen counter and made you watch." Aerum's lips part at your words, leaning back slightly in shock. "Don't talk about him like that. Matter of fact, don't talk about him at all."

She malfunctions for a second before nodding dazedly, quickly turning to face the front of the class for the first time today. You return to your notebook uninterestedly as Jimin lets out a loud snort, leaning over to hide his face in your shoulder.

The class continues without further interruptions, and when the professor finally wraps it up, you begin putting your things away. Jimin holds your bag for you like he always does as you make your way out of the classroom. Aerum follows behind like a kicked puppy.

With no more classes for the day, you and Jimin had planned to go to the campus café for a study date. Much to your dismay, Jimin had invited Aerum when she overheard you talking about it at the beginning of Linguistics. Jimin is kind to everyone, a trait of his that you somewhat admire, but in this case, it just made you want to slam his laptop shut over his fingers.

Once you reach the café, you find an empty table at the back while Jimin goes to the counter to order your usual drinks, Aerum trailing behind him quietly.

As you set your things down, you notice your phone at the top of your bag. You pick it up, deciding to text Jungkook because you haven't seen him in a couple of days, and you miss him. Maybe he can come study.

It's as if the universe heard your thoughts because suddenly, you feel a pair of sturdy arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into a broad chest. You smile when his familiar cologne reaches your nose and quickly spin around to pull him down into a proper hug.

"I was literally just about to text you," you tell him as he snuggles into your neck.

"You studying?" he murmurs into your skin, his warm breath tickling you slightly.

"Mhm, with Jiminie and Aerum," you reply, leaning back slightly. He scrunches his nose in protest when you pull away but lets you go.

"Cool, I could use a break," he says, his eyes twinkling as he takes a seat next to you, casually slinging his arm over the back of your chair.

"Where were you heading?" you ask as you both settle down, and he helps you spread out your supplies.

"Just dropping some gear off to coach on campus. Saw you through the window," his gaze flickers over your outfit before he smiles softly. "You look pretty."

You smile cutely at the compliment, and his heart skips a beat.

Jungkook suppresses a sigh. You look so sweet in your white cashmere sweater and creamy plaid Burberry skirt, but the way your body fills it out is anything but. Not a single hair out of place, you look sinfully and irrevocably perfect.

Jimin returns with the drinks and almost gets a fright from the lacrosse captain. "Hey, Kook," he says with a grin, handing you your iced coffee.

Aerum, holding her drink, looks slightly flustered but tries to mask it with a smile. "Hi, Jungkook," she says, her voice a little too sweet.

Jungkook nods at her politely before turning his attention back to you. "What subject?" He leans over to grab your textbook, and before you can answer, Aerum takes a seat and chimes in.

"Linguistics," she smiles, and Jungkook nods while flipping through the textbook.

You're logging into Jimin's laptop while he licks the whipped cream from the top of his frappe like a cat. You snort at the blonde before opening the shared doc that he and you have. You're begin to scroll through the pages, trying to find where you left off last time, but the sound of Aerum's continuous pestering distracts you.

"—again tonight or something?" You only catch the end of her sentence, but by the flirty tone she's only just now using, you assume she's speaking to Jungkook.

"Aish, Aerum…" Jungkook laughs awkwardly, flicking through the pages of your textbook as if it would somehow teleport him away from the situation.

"Yeah, yeah, I know you don't do round 2's. Make an exception? For me?" She pouts cutely, and even Jimin can't resist the urge to cringe into his cup.

Jungkook looks over at you for a moment; whether it's for help or a reaction, he doesn't know, but he's not surprised when you don't even look up from the laptop. Just continuing to scroll through your document.

He can't even stop the words from coming out before he says them, "Yeah, okay."

Jimin's brows furrow in surprise. You keep scrolling.

"Yeah?" Aerum can't hide the surprise in her own voice, giddy nonetheless.

"Yeah." He nods at her, looking down at your textbook, wishing it would telepathically lift up and knock him out cold.

An hour flies by, during which you and Jimin make significant progress on the paper, having already completed a quarter of it.

Aerum, however, proves to be an absolute dead weight, giving weak half-assed responses whenever Jimin tries to involve her in the research. Her focus is solely on flirting with Jungkook.

If she even thinks of attempting to slip her greasy little name on this project once you and Jimin are done, you'll take great satisfaction in bringing her back down to reality.

You finish typing a sentence on Jimin's laptop before locking it and giving him a look. He understands immediately and stands up to pack his things wordlessly.

You're beyond irritated—not because Jungkook and Aerum are practically on the verge of fucking right on top of the café table, but because they're doing it while you're trying to work. Frustrated and disgusted, you uncharacteristically bite your tongue and sling your bag over your shoulder.

"You're leaving?" Jungkook's head snaps to you the moment he notices you standing up, and he follows suit, Aerum tagging along behind him.

"Yep," you nod, grabbing Jimin's arm when he extends it to you and heading for the café exit.

"Are you—shit," Jungkook stutters, jogging slightly to catch up to you, Aerum trailing behind him. "Are you guys doing anything tonight?"

You almost roll your fucking eyes, but Jimin responds with a neutral expression, "Yeah, Kook… the DSP gather? We planned it last week?"

"Fuck," Jungkook coughs out, "Yeah, no, I remember."

You continue walking back towards the main campus where Jimin's car is parked, with Jungkook and Aerum not far behind. When you reach Jimin's Audi, you detach from his arm and head for the passenger seat, Jungkook meeting you at the door.

"Did you still want me to pick you up?" he asks softly, watching you adjust your bag strap over your shoulder in boredom while you wait for Jimin to unlock the car.

“No, that’s okay, Guk. I'll come over with Minji. She's on a drinking cleanse after the Feb blackout, so she can drive," you smile, leaning up to give him a quick goodbye hug.

He leans into it, but you don't let him linger, pulling away as soon as you hear the sound of the car unlocking. You go to open the door and climb in, but he gently puts his hand against it to stop you.

"Are you okay? Can you talk to me, please?" he lowers his voice so no one can hear.

Jimin takes the hint and awkwardly gets into the car, telling Aerum to hop in the back and he'll drop her home. She looks at Jungkook for a long moment before reluctantly getting in.

Jungkook's big, worried, boba eyes make you want to both scoff and run your hand over his face until they ease up.

"What do you mean, Gukkie? Just don't want you to go out of your way. You live there, so there's no point in you driving to get me."

Huh? He's picked you up for every single frat party they hold. He doesn't mind. He insists on driving you. He loves driving you! What the fuck?

Jungkook lets his hand fall from the door in resignation, and his heart clenches at the speed in which you pull the handle to open it, like you couldn't wait to get away from him. He somberly takes a step back from the car to let you get in.

You sigh when you glance back at his scrunched eyebrows and pouty lips. You place your bag on the seat and shut the door with a groan before walking back to your sulky best friend.

His response is immediate. His arms link around your waist when you lean into him, his head nestling into your neck where it belongs. Your nails lightly scratch against his polo, and he squeezes you a little tighter.

"I want to pick you up," he says softly. You run your hands down his arms, grabbing them where they link behind your waist. You give them a squeeze as you gently untangle yourself from him.

"I'm riding with Minji. I'll see you tonight, Gukkie." He watches you walk back to Jimin's car and finally get in.

Aerum's eyes are on Jungkook as Jimin pulls out of the campus parking lot. Jungkook's are on you.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

You weren't always as unbothered as you are today at the age of 21.

Maybe it was maturing, maybe it was the pilates sessions you take twice a week, or maybe it was because a particular situation made you vow to yourself you'd never go through that pain again. Well, whatever it was that made you so emotionally detached, you're grateful for it. You're young, gorgeous, and you have a fruitful and prosperous life on the horizon.

Fun is good. Feelings are not.

You shake your head to get yourself out of your thoughts—the thoughts you don't know why are suddenly floating around in your messy little brain—and yell out to your roommate for a favor.

Park Minji and you share a two-bedroom penthouse on the top floor of Kim Marriott, the Seodaemun-gu branch of your parents' luxury 5-star hotel chain.

Taehyung was supposed to move in with you during your first year, but when he was appointed Frat President, he chose to stay on-site at Delta Sigma Phi. What a humble boy… you couldn't think of anything worse.

He dragged Jungkook along with him, and you dragged Minji along with you, so everything worked out great. Minji is a lot tidier than your brother, anyway.

You're rummaging through your closet for the shoes you swore you had stored there after your last shopping trip when Minji waltzes into your room, holding the box you've been hunting for.

"These ones, right? They were on the kitchen counter, among all your other unopened packages..." She rolls her eyes teasingly.

"Oh yes! Fuck, I love you," you cry, walking up to the blonde and pulling the heels from the box she holds open for you.

"They're so pretty," she compliments before closing the box and tossing it in the living room to throw away later. She looks back at you as you head to your full-length mirror, slipping on the shoes.

"Jesus, Y/N." Minji groans, and you hum in question, eyeing her through the mirror.

"You look so good, what the fuck..." she whines, walking closer to you and standing side by side in the mirror to check on her outfit as well.

The white bodycon mini-dress hugs your body nicely, its low neckline no match for your bigger-than-average tits as the fabric clings to them for dear life. The white-gold Cartier necklace Jungkook gifted you rests prettily on your chest, just like it always has ever since the night he clasped it around your neck.

2 years prior—circa. your 19th birthday

"Get fucked, Jeongguk." The words rip from your throat, venomous and sharp as they slap your best friend's face into a furrowed, exasperated expression.

You yank the jacket tighter around your shoulders as the cold night air whips at your skin, storming down the sidewalk. The urge to rip the jacket—his jacket—off your body is strong, but it's so fucking cold. You may be petty and possibly overreacting a little right now... but you're not stupid.

Jungkook's heavy footsteps trail after you, his calls of your name only pushing you to walk faster. He catches up in no time, your hurried steps no match for his long strides. He tries to gently grab your arm, but you shrug off his touch angrily, spinning around to glare at him. You're about to tell him to fuck off again when he speaks first.

"Come back inside. It's like a fucking blizzard out here; you're going to freeze to death," he says evenly, though frustration laces his words.

"Oh, please," you laugh humorlessly, shaking your head in disbelief. "As if you give a shit if I freeze."

"Don't fucking say—"

"I'm going home. You can tell everyone I'm sick and had to leave. Or don't, I don't fucking care." You turn away and start walking again, his footsteps immediately following.

"You're walking home?" You ignore his question, causing him to huff and run a hand through his hair. "Let me drive you home, please."

You ignore him again, knowing that if there's something Jungkook can't stand more than you yelling at him, it's you not speaking to him.

"Stop doing this. It's your birthday; don't let it end like this—"

"Yes, Jeongguk, it's my birthday," you seethe, whipping back around. "And you brought a random chick none of us even know to my birthday dinner. And you didn't even bother to get me a gift. On. My fucking. Birthday."

"Y/N—"

"Limited edition PlayStation, imported Swedish lacrosse stick, custom painted iPad from your favorite local fucking artist," you list the gifts you've gotten him for his birthday over the years angrily. Jungkook shakes his head, trying to step closer to you, but you hold up your hand to keep the distance.

"Do you even know how much effort I put into the things I get and do for you? And for you to sit there with that... that stupid fucking look on your—God, Jeongguk!" Your voice is on the cusp of being a whine, but you don't care. "Oh, but I'm sure you spent a decent chunk of Daddy's money on Winnie tonight, huh?" You don't care that the Daddy's money statement is also very applicable to you… you're pissed.

Jungkook's jaw clenches at your words, and he steps forward, slipping his hand into the pocket of the jacket you're wearing. Before you can snap at him again, he pulls out a small velvet box and holds it out to you.

"What is that?" you demand, your voice still trembling with annoyance.

"Your gift," he says softly, opening the box to reveal a white-gold Cartier diamond necklace. "I was planning to give it to you when we were in private."

You stare at the necklace, your anger momentarily overshadowed by surprise. The diamonds of the pendant sparkle under the streetlights, and you almost let out a moan. Diamonds are your weakness.

"You motherfucker," you groan under your breath, glaring at the necklace in hopes it will dissipate into thin air so you can continue being annoyed at him.

Jungkook steps closer, his voice a whisper. "Everyone was coming with their partners, Y/N. I couldn't come alone."

You sigh, knowing that. Your comment was a cheap shot, considering Jungkook doesn't hang with a girl more than once, so it would be impossible for him to bring someone you already knew. But Winnie was getting on your last nerve, and you saw an opportunity to sneak in a jab, so you took it.

Not only was his date clearing glass after glass of the expensive wine your friends had ordered as if it were water, but she was also not shy about ordering the priciest dishes on the menu. Judging by her tiny red Zara mini-dress, you highly doubt she'll be reaching for her purse at the end of the night.

Your gaze is still locked on the necklace as you take a moment to think. Jungkook hasn't moved either, continuing to hold the box open for you while he scans your face, trying to gauge your reaction.

"It's, um, engraved and shit," he mumbles, his hand not holding the box lifting to run over his jaw nervously. "And I got a chain one… for me too."

Your eyes snap to his, and he swears his heart stops beating. God, you think it's stupid. You hate it. That's okay. He'll just wait until you turn around so he can sprint to the nearest homeless guy and give him the stupid neckl—

"Like matching?" Your eyes soften, and he slowly feels the blood flooding into his heart.

"Yeah, only if you like, want to," he shrugs cutely, and you can't stop the grin from spreading across your lips.

You're close enough to slide your arms around his torso but still not near enough for Jungkook as he tugs you closer, melting into the hug. "Thank you, Gukkie. I love it," you murmur into his chest, and he feels his muscles relax at you finally using his nickname again.

You lift your head from his black fitted Givenchy dress shirt, which smells a little too good, to look up at him. "But why did you say you didn't have anything when everyone gave me their gifts?"

He looks down at the slight pout on your lips, his fingers twitching with the urge to wipe it off your mouth. Instead, he flicks the box closed with a thumb and holds it out to you. "Don't think Jaehyun would've been too thrilled with me giving you this," he chuckles. "The dude hates me."

You frown up at him, about to chime in and say that isn't true, but his lips tug into a smirk as if to say he couldn't care less about what your boyfriend thought of him. And honestly, if he were Jaehyun, he'd hate him too.

Jungkook had the necklaces made a little over two months ago, and you and Jaehyun have only been official for one. So, Jungkook's intentions behind the gift weren't malicious, he swears…

If you just so happen to wear the necklace and your boyfriend notices his matching one, which then causes a rift in your relationship, resulting in the two of you breaking up… well, that would just be a nice little coincidence.

"Jae knows you and I are close," you explain with a crease in your brow that he wants to massage until it goes away. "I made it very clear to him when he wanted to get serious, and he understood."

Jungkook nods along to your words even if he doesn't fully believe them. Either Jaehyun is a really good and secure guy, or he's full of grade-A horse shit. If you were his and another dude tried to come along and buy you an eleven-thousand-dollar necklace? Fuck, he'd knock the guy out cold.

You untangle yourself from your best friend and lift the lid of the velvet box still in his grasp. You coo at the pretty diamonds before turning to face away from Jungkook.

You gather your hair before swiping it over your shoulder and letting his jacket fall slightly to bare your neck. Jungkook reacts immediately, picking up the necklace before shoving the box in his pocket. His cold fingers brush against you as he carefully fastens the jewelry around your neck.

When he pulls away, you let your hair fall back into place and turn around to face him again. Your smile is soft, eyes twinkling as you look down at the necklace. "It's so pretty, Gukkie. I love it."

You're so pretty. I love you, he thinks.

With a sigh, you glance at yourself in the mirror, taking in one of the most casual party outfits you've worn in a while—well, to your standards, at least. For some reason, you just don't feel entirely up for it tonight. Something feels off in your stomach. Or your head. You're not sure. You're probably just getting sick or something.

After slipping into the heels, you stand up straight and smush a kiss on the girl's cheek, smiling at the mark your lip gloss leaves on her face. "Ya, I just did my makeup," she gasps, leaning closer to your mirror to dab off the glossy residue.

You pat her bum gently. "You look gorgeous, Min. Gonna have Joon in tears tonight."

"If he even looks at me," she rolls her eyes, adjusting the strap of her Miu Miu dress in the mirror.

"You haven't talked to him yet?" You ask as you apply your perfume, and she turns to look at you with guilty eyes.

"No," she sighs, "I will tonight."

"Good," you smile, resting the perfume bottle back on your dresser before grabbing your phone and holding your hand out to her.

She interlocks her fingers with yours as you both leave the suite, the sinking feeling in your stomach never fading.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

Welp, there goes your ride home.

You watch in amusement as your roommate throws back her fourth jello shot of the night, washing it down with a gulp of beer.

You don't blame Minji for breaking her sobriety, especially after the first thing you both saw upon walking through the doors of Delta Sigma Phi was Namjoon leaning against the foyer wall with another girl in his arms. While they weren't official official, Minji loves really hard. And you think Namjoon knew that.

Needless to say, Minji instantly grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the kitchen, where mountains of various alcohol bottles covered the counter.

Minji's not an alcoholic by any means, but she, just like her twin brother, are quick to take it down and even quicker to bring it back up.

A few months ago, during the Autumn fraternity vs. sorority fundraiser, she got so drunk that she blacked out going down the soapy slip-and-slide.

You and Jungkook—well, mostly Jungkook—carried her all the way to his car. Since he was a sober monitor for Delta Sigma Phi, he drove you both home. He ended up staying at your place for the rest of the night while you slowly sipped on strawberry soju and watched Netflix, checking on Minji every so often.

She hasn't had a drink since that night, so her tolerance is probably super low. But that doesn't stop her from handing you a raspberry jello shot before grabbing another from the table and sucking it down like someone might take it from her.

You giggle, gently wiping away the pink droplet of liquid trailing down the corner of her lip with your thumb. She offers you a dazed smile, her eyes hooded, the effects of the alcohol clearly weaving through her system.

"You okay, Min?"

She beams back at you, a little spark lighting up her glossy eyes, "Mhm. Just wanna have fun tonight."

"Okay," you respond softly, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen across her face.

Her head suddenly snaps to the living room. "Oooh, they're playing spin the bottle! Let's go playyy!" Minji gasps, tapping your arm excitedly.

You glance at the game that caught her attention and scan the players. There are a few of your friends, mixed with other people from school whose names you couldn't remember if someone held a gun to your head.

You pat Minji's hand, which was still tapping your arm, telling her to go play and stay close to Yoongi and Hobi. She nods, rushing over to the game with a big smile and plopping down between your friends.

You look down at the jello shot you're still yet to ingest and put it back on the table. Grabbing a solo cup, you pour some cranberry juice into it, glancing at the types of vodkas on display. Your nose scrunches at the cheap brands, your manicured nail tapping the side of the cup in thought before you remember something.

Cup in hand, you make your way to the cupboard below the kitchen sink and pull it open, smiling in triumph as you spot the object of your desire at the back of the cabinet. Bending down, you reach for the bottle quickly before anyone notices you.

"That's off limits."

The familiar smell of his cologne floods your senses before you process his words. You straighten up with a small smile, resting your cup on the counter and turning to face the boy with the pricey bottle of vodka in your hands.

"Even to me?" Your lips pull into a knowing pout, and Jungkook has to force his gaze away from them. Instead, his eyes trail over your outfit, which, in hindsight, was an even dumber idea.

His breath hitches in his fucking throat at the sight of your dress, doing nothing to support your boobs that threaten to spill from the pretty little white fabric. The knot in the noose, though, is the necklace he gifted you on your nineteenth birthday, resting innocently between the valley of your anything-but-innocent tits.

He shakes his head, the corner of his lips tugging upwards slightly as he steps closer to you. You fiddle with the bottle cap while he closes the distance, giving you a moment to drink in how effortlessly his arms fill out his white box-tee.

"No," he says softly, almost laughing at the thought of ever denying you something. "Not you." He takes his bottle of Belvedere from your grasp and unscrews the cap.

You rest against the kitchen sink as your best friend, now less than an inch from your body, reaches around you to grab your cup from the counter. He doesn't say anything as he pours the vodka into the cup, using his familiarity with your favorite drink to know when to stop. Your finger lightly traces over the tattoos spilling from his right sleeve absentmindedly, and he should tell you to stop, or he might drop the cup. But he doesn't.

Once he deems there's enough alcohol in the mix, he lifts the cup to his lips to take a sip. You wait patiently, letting him do his little lip purse before splashing a bit more vodka into the cup and holding it out to you. You take it with a grateful smile, bringing the drink to your lips to taste it as he leans over to get a solo cup of his own. You almost groan when the vodka cranberry hits your tongue. Obviously, it's perfect. He’s annoying like that.

Once Jungkook finishes mixing his drink, he takes a mouthful before returning to you. He catches the way your gaze is fixed on the ground, distraction clouding your eyes, cup resting against your lips as you get lost in your head.

You snap out of it almost instantly when he gets closer to you, putting the cup down next to you so you can slink your arms around his neck when he leans down. But before he allows the feeling of you against his body to make him forget every thought inside his brain, he speaks.

"What's wrong?" he murmurs into the skin of your neck, blindly putting his cup on the counter behind you so he can slip his hands around your waist.

You're quiet for a moment, and if it wasn't for the slight stutter in your fingers playing with the clasp of his Cartier chain, he would think you didn't hear him. He doesn't repeat his question, though, knowing you will answer him in your own time. And even if you don't, that's okay too. But he just won't leave your side the entire night if you're feeling vulnerable.

Yeah, nice excuse for not wanting to leave her alone; his subconscious laughs viciously at him. Jungkook ignores it by burying his face into your neck further.

Your fingers slide into the hair at the nape of his neck while you take a deep breath, the calming scent of him grounding you. "I don't know," you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

He tightens his hold on you, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your back. "Are you getting sick?"

"Yeah, probably. I've just had this weird feel—"

"Kookie, there you are! I thought you got lost getting my drink—oh, hi, Y/N!"

Jungkook stiffens before he lifts himself from you slightly at the sound of Aerum's voice.

You untangle your hand from his hair, poking your head around the side of his large frame to look at the girl strutting into the kitchen. She's pretty, you think as you give her outfit a once-over. If only she wasn't such an insufferable phony, maybe you'd be a little warmer towards her. Maybe.

"Hey, Aerum," you greet uninterestedly, leaning away from Jungkook and ignoring the way he tries to keep you near him.

Lost in his own house? You internally roll your eyes. Why even bother saying something so stupid—

"Is it this one?" she smiles once she reaches you both, grabbing your cup from the counter and taking a sip. "Oh wow, Kookie, it's so good! Is it vodka? Shit, what brand is this?" Aerum squeaks as she takes another sip of your drink.

Jungkook's lips part as he's about to say something about the drink, but you reply with a bored expression, "Belvedere."

Aerum lets out a confused hum as you name the $300 bottle of alcohol. "Huh. I've never heard of it."

You nod, grabbing a bottle of cheap beer as you brush past her to leave the kitchen. "Exactly."

Jungkook and Aerum's hushed conversation fades into the background as you move further away. You reach the living room, where Minji is giggling between Hobi and Yoongi. She grins widely when she sees you enter the room. "Jagi! Come and play!"

You laugh at your roommate, who now has two more empty Jello shot cups and a bottle of cider beside her, which explains the affectionate nickname.

Once you reach the circle, Yoongi and Hobi lean up to give you a hug in greeting before you smush a kiss on Minji's forehead. "Maybe later, jagi. Have you seen our brothers?”

��Mhm! They went outside for a smoke!” She replies distractedly as she’s staring intently at the bottle spinning in the middle of the circle.

You run a hand gently over her hair before turning to Yoongi. Since he’s sober D for his boyfriend tonight, you ask if he can keep an eye on her while they finish their game and if she needs to go home or gets too much to handle, to come and tell you.

Yoongi nods at you with a smile, and you return it before spotting a familiar head of black hair peeking over the back of the couch on the other side of the room.

Approaching the couch quietly, you softly put your beer on the ground before leaning over and covering his eyes with your hands. Mingyu flinches at the unexpected contact, his phone falling from his hands to his lap, but then relaxes as if something clicks.

His warm hands come up to yours, removing them from his eyes before he turns to you with a stunned smile. He takes you in for a second before shaking his head and leaning up on the couch.

You're about to give him a hug but he suddenly wraps his arms around your body, easily pulling you over the couch and laying you down beneath him. You squeal loudly in surprise before it's replaced by soft giggles as Mingyu attacks your neck with kisses, peppering them over every inch of skin he can find.

You draw a breath when there's a slight break in his assault and gesture to your heels digging uncomfortably into the couch. He leans back immediately and pulls them off your feet, placing them on the coffee table with haste that makes you laugh.

Turning back, he lowers his frame to you, your legs subconsciously separating to let him press closer, and he resumes his work on your neck. His kisses move lower, and you let out a sigh at the feeling before he reaches the exposed skin of side-boob peeking from your dress. You let out a quick gasp, grabbing his face with your hands and pulling him up to your face.

He grins at you cheekily, knowing he wouldn't get far but can't find it in himself to regret the action. "Was wondering when you'd get here," he says softly, his voice filled with affection. Your pouty fucking lips covered in that pretty fucking lip gloss distracts him for a moment, and he breathes a dazed sigh, leaning down to rest his face on your chest.

You blame it on the alcohol when the sick feeling in your stomach suddenly returns at the touch of Mingyu's skin on yours.

You blame it on the alcohol when all you can think about as you run your fingers through Mingyu's hair is how it's not as soft as Jungkook's.

You blame it on the alcohol when you let Mingyu snuggle closer into your neck in hopes that you'll feel the same warm sensation as when Jungkook does it.

The nausea, the thoughts of your best friend while you have a gorgeous man on top of you, the pounding in your head as his lips get closer and closer to your necklace. You blame all of it on the alcohol.

The one single sip of fucking alcohol you've consumed tonight.

"Can you pass me my beer, please?" You choke out as his lips are a millimeter away from reaching the skin where your necklace sits.

Mingyu pulls back with a smile, and you almost want to frown at the sweet boy. He deserves so much better. "It's just on the ground over there," you point to the back of the couch, and he nods, leaning over and grabbing your drink.

You release a heavy breath while you play with the hem of his dress shirt when something catches your attention from the corner of your eye. Your fingers tighten slightly around the fabric.

There, leaning with his back against the living room wall, is your best friend with Aerum's lips attached to his neck like a blowfish. Jungkook's brows are furrowed, most likely in pleasure, and his eyes are squeezed shut.

Another wave of the sick feeling washes over you, and you almost let out a frustrated grunt. What the actual fuck is going on with you?

Mingyu leans back on the couch, now with your beer in his hand. Before he can open the cap for you, you snatch it from his hand and toss it to the carpet carelessly. He looks at you curiously, about to ask you what's wrong, but you sit up and swing your leg over his thigh, effectively lodging the words in his throat.

His brows shoot up in surprise before he catches on, his hands finding your waist when you don't waste time pressing your lips to his. Mingyu groans into your mouth when you suckle on his tongue lightly, starting to move against him. Your dress begins to ride up with your movements and deepen the kiss while simultaneously grinding harder into his lap. You can feel him getting harder through the fabric of his jeans, and you zone in on it.

Squeezing your eyes closed tighter to focus, you drag yourself over his covered cock, letting the zipper of his pants graze against your panties. Mingyu detaches from your lips at the sensation, his head throwing back onto the couch as his breathing picks up.

Your hands rest against his chest as you swivel your hips quicker, trying everything you can to spark something in you. Mingyu chokes out a strained fuck when you find the outline of his shaft and let the lips of your covered pussy drag along it.

Nothing. You feel nothing. What the fucking fuck.

Mingyu, on the other hand, is losing himself. His head is still thrown back in pleasure, and you take the opportunity to lean forward and latch your lips to his neck. Your teeth nibble at the skin below his jaw, and he shivers at the action, his hands losing grip on your waist and falling to the swell of your ass. Your movements still haven't relented, grinding against him like you're the only two in the room, and Mingyu doesn't want to admit just how fucking close he is.

He's about to suggest that you guys take it to his room when he feels one of your hands trail down from his chest. His head lifts up to see what you're going to do next, and god, he wishes he didn't, because when you cover the hand of his that's loosely resting on your left asscheek and squeeze? He almost cums in his fucking pants like a teenage boy that just discovered the wonders of third base.

Mingyu does as you wish, grabbing a greedy handful of the flesh with his left hand and uses his right to slide up the back of your neck, returning your mouth to his. You fall into the kiss willingly, letting him lick into your mouth. Letting him take whatever he wants. Mingyu has always been a good kisser. Not even a week ago, he had you dripping from a 10-minute make-out session on his bed. But right now, something inside you tells you that even if you went at it for an hour, it still wouldn't be enough.

You push the sadistic thoughts from your brain and tangle your hands in his hair, nodding against his lips when his hand on your neck drops to your other asscheek and squeezes tightly.

Yes, you think. Touch me. Anywhere. Everywhere. Something is bound to—

"What the fuck?"

Your lips immediately detach from Mingyu's at the sound of the familiar voice booming behind you. You adjust the front of your clothes, which have twisted out of place, and quickly climb off Mingyu's lap. Pulling down the hem of the dress that also rode up a few minutes ago, you blink guiltily at the man staring at you with a disturbed look.

"On my couch? That's disgusting. Take it upstairs or take it to your place, Y/N." Taehyung grits, shaking his head as if it would somehow rid the image of you mounting his frat-mate from his memory.

"Sorry, Tae," you reply to your brother with a purse of your lips before getting over it and looking around for your phone that fell from the pocket of your cover-up.

Mingyu is speechless, gawking at his frat president in horror, not knowing what to say or do. He watches as you finally find the phone wedged between the couch cushions before you lean back onto his chest and scroll through your notifications, un-fucking-concerned.

Mingyu chokes on air, gently lifting you off him and sitting you back up on the seat properly. You give him a confused look, and he returns your gaze with a panicked expression, glancing between you and your brother, who is still standing there glaring at him.

You roll your eyes, lifting Mingyu's arm and throwing it over your shoulder, returning to your previous position. "Don't take him seriously, Gyu. I can't even recall how many times I've accidentally walked in on him and my own friends from high school. And they were doing a lot more than dry humping."

The fact that you aren't bothered helps Mingyu to calm down a bit, but he's still on edge with your brother staring him down.

You glance up at Mingyu when his chest remains stiff beneath your head, and you sigh before turning to your brother. "Tae, you're scaring him. We won't do anything else on your couch, okay? Now shoo, please." You wave him off with your hand.

Your brother just rolls his eyes, looking a little too much like you for your liking, before he nods and says he'll return to patrol the room in 30 minutes.

You watch Taehyung disappear behind the door frame as he heads into another room, and you turn to Mingyu with a teasing grin. "30 minutes? We could be done twice in that time…"

His eyes widen, and he gives another pathetic attempt at suggesting you go upstairs, but when you press your lips to his, the words fizzle out on his tongue as you entwine it with your own.

Jungkook is fucking fuming.

He's absolutely clocked out of the make-out session with Aerum, and she can probably tell that his mind is elsewhere, but he can't bring himself to care, and she makes no move to pull away either.

He feels her getting angsty, desperately wanting to escalate the situation from the way she's pressing harder against him, but Jungkook keeps the pace steady.

He needs to stay in the living room to keep an eye on you because you're obviously not in the right state of mind right now. You're not drunk; he knows what you look like when you've been drinking, and you're basically stone-cold fucking sober. But yet, there you are, one layer away from riding his housemate's cock on his very own fucking couch.

Jungkook would have intervened a long time ago, had he not seen with his own eyes that you were the one initiating every part of the act.

With every swivel of your hips, Jungkook’s heart pounded furiously against his chest. It clenched with every firm squeeze Mingyu placed on your ass, and it shattered completely as you nuzzled into Mingyu’s neck, kissing and nipping at it, just like you did to him in his dreams most nights.

He can’t tear his gaze away. He’s tried—oh, how he’s fucking tried.

He attempted to focus on the pretty girl currently whimpering into his mouth, begging him to touch her, to take her right there in the middle of the room if he so desired. But he couldn’t. His eyes were uncontrollably drawn back to you, to the way Mingyu’s hips lifted to meet yours, each movement a sharp twist to the knife lodged in his pathetic heart.

"Shit," Mingyu groans when the curve of his cock straining against his jeans meets your covered core. "We needa go upstairs, or I'm gonna take you right here on the couch, Y/N."

Your laugh comes out breathy from the frantic movements of your hips as you ignore him, and you lean up so his face can nuzzle between your tits. Your boobs are very sensitive, and that usually does the trick to turn you on.

Why. Isn't. It. Turning. You. On.

You let out a frustrated groan that Mingyu mistakes as a moan of pleasure as he leaves wet kisses against the exposed skin of your tits before he reaches the necklace that's wedged between them. "Fuck, I love this. It's so pretty but looks so dirty on you."

Your skin suddenly fires up at his words, and you feel your hips stutter slightly. "Yeah?" you question in a rush, grinding harder against him to chase the feeling.

"Mhm," he nods, brushing his nose over the pendant.

"Bite it."

He looks up at you, his gaze locking with yours filled with a hunger that hadn't been present all night.

"Bite it?" he repeats, his voice a mix of confusion and intrigue, hips meeting yours halfway as your movements become sloppier, more desperate.

Your head tilts as you nod desperately, "Please bite it."

Mingyu's eyes flicker down to your chest, and he leans in, his lips grazing the skin near your necklace. Your breath catches as he nears the pendant with its two little conjoined rings. You catch your bottom lip between your teeth, suppressing the whine that threatens to escape.

He plants a lingering kiss on the surrounding flesh before finally catching the pendant between his teeth. You can't hold back the loud moan that escapes your lips—

It happens in the blink of an eye.

You tumble onto the couch cushions as Mingyu is abruptly yanked away and thrown to the living room floor.

You watch in shock as Jungkook pounces on him instantly, Mingyu barely having a moment to react before Jungkook's fist comes crashing down. It connects with Mingyu's jaw with a sickening crunch that reverberates through the room, drawing the attention of a few partygoers.

Mingyu attempts a recovery, throwing a jab that snaps Jungkook's head to the side, but Jungkook quickly regains his focus. He reels his fist back and hammers another brutal punch into Mingyu's face, then another, then another, then another.

Jungkook doesn't know how many punches he's thrown, or how long he's been on top of his housemate, or whose arms grab him from behind to pull him off Mingyu.

His breathing comes in ragged gasps, his knuckles sting with a throbbing pain, and a fierce rage burns through his veins, consuming him entirely. Adrenaline surges through him as he watches Yoongi and Hobi lift a bloodied, struggling Mingyu off the ground.

"What the fuck, Kook?" Taehyung's voice snaps him out of his daze as he and Jimin drag him to his feet.

You remain frozen on the couch, not shifting an inch. Your gaze is fixed on Mingyu as a cluster of people surround him. One person carefully presses a damp rag against his bloodied face while he leans heavily against the wall, another extends a bottle of water towards his shaking hands.

From the grasp of your brother, Jungkook's eyes follow you as you rise and weave through the crowd around Mingyu.

His heart clenches as he watches the pained expression on your face, the saddest he's ever seen. He watches as you whisper something to Mingyu, who shakes his head weakly and reaches out to pull you closer. Instead, you gently grasp his hand, stroking his knuckles with your thumb as tears start to pool in your eyes.

He sees the moment you utter one final word to Mingyu before you let his hand drop softly to his side and walk away

You return to the coffee table, grabbing your shoes and phone before immediately heading for the exit. You spot Minji, who has tears flowing down her cheeks, and she breaks from Yoongi's hold before pulling you into the tightest hug she can muster.

"Oh my god, Y/N, are you okay? What the fuck was that?!" she cries into your shoulder. You almost smile, knowing her emotions always spill over when she's been drinking, but you couldn't muster one even if you tried. Gently pulling away, you dab at the tears under her eyes before turning your attention to Yoongi.

"Can you take her home, please? I'm going to catch an Uber and I feel like being alone for a bit," you half-lie. You're going to walk home, but he doesn't need to know that. He wouldn't let you walk alone at this time.

"Y/N," Yoongi sighs. He didn't miss the way you dodged her question. He wants to urge you to let him drive you home as well, but the resolve in your eyes tells him you won't budge. "Yeah, I'll make sure she gets home safe."

"Thank you," your voice cracks slightly at the end as you squeeze his hand and leave the room before he can stop you.

You can hear footsteps trailing behind you as you reach the door, and you abandon the mission of slipping into your heels, quickly slipping out the door and slamming it behind you.

The cold concrete bites at your bare feet as you hurry down the steps of the frat house, but you barely notice. The sound of the door swinging open behind you only quickens your pace.

"Please, Y/N. Wait. Please."

The tears you've held back since the moment he climbed on top of Mingyu suddenly fall without your permission, and you scoff, wiping them away furiously.

You don't say anything as you reach the path out of the university and continue your trek to your penthouse. It's dark, the sparse lights of the school providing little guidance, but you don't care. You just keep walking.

When Jungkook catches up to you and tries to take your hand, something inside you explodes. You snatch your arm away furiously, your heels and phone dropping from your hands as you turn to face him. Before you know what you're doing, you push against his chest, shoving him away from you. He barely moves and that makes you even angrier. “Fuck you, Jeongguk!” You shove him again, "Fuck you," again, "Fuck you," again, "Fuck you."

Your voice trembles on the last words, and you can't stop the sob from wracking your body. He reacts instantly, stepping forward to pull you into his arms as you break down.

His hands cradle the back of your head as you shake against his chest, his heart clenching at the sound of your cries. "I'm so sorr—"

You pull away from him, running your sleeve over your face to wipe at the tears. "What about your future, Jeongguk? What if he presses charges? If this gets back to your parents? Affects your student record?" You shake your head in utter disbelief, your hands running through your hair in an attempt to ground yourself. "Mingyu is such a good guy, how could you even—fuck." Mingyu.

Your heart clenches at the memory of him trying to keep you close even after he had the shit beaten out of him. You brought him into this mess. That was all fucking you.

"You can't do shit like that, Jeongguk! You c-can't," you stammer, batting his hand away as your voice cracks again, "You had no right to do that."

"I know, Y/N!" His voice rises, and you see tears welling in his own eyes. "I fucking know! I know I didn't have any right to do that. And I fucking hate it!"

You're speechless, but Jungkook isn't finished, "I had no right to punch Lee Seo-jun when he gave you your first kiss, so I didn't. I had no right to punch Kang Doyun when you told me he felt you up for the first time, so I didn't. I had no right to punch Jeong Jaehyun every time I watched him have you like I wanted to have you, so I fucking didn't!"

Tears stream down your face unchecked as Jungkook's hands gently cup your face, his thumbs trembling as they try to wipe your tears away. "I had no right to punch Mingyu because he has everything I want. But I did. And I know you don't want to hear it, but I don't fucking regret—"

"I hate you."

Jungkook doesn't know what to do when he hears you say those words. He stumbles back slightly, his throat tightening, and his heart slams against his chest so hard he thinks it's about to crack through his skin.

A trembly shake of his head, "No—"

Your tears stop as abruptly as they came, your gaze hollow and resigned. "We need some space. This is unhealth—"

"No, please," the tips of his ears turn red as he chokes back a sob, "I fucked up, baby, I know. I'm gonna fix it. Let me fix it. I don't want space, I-I can't have space," his words tumble out desperately, completely unaware of the nickname that slips out. But it doesn't matter; nothing does, if you leave him.

You pull your face from his grasp and take a small step backward. The weak light posts give you just enough vision to see his bloodshot eyes and broken expression. Your hand twitches, yearning to brush his hair away from his face and wipe his tears—the tears he's crying for you.

Don’t be fucking stupid, your subconscious snarls.

Those tears aren't for you. They're for the idea of you.

If he doesn't have you, who's he going to cuddle up to at night when he's bored and doesn't have a pussy appointment to get to?

Who will pass on his Instagram handle to their classmates when they rave about his insane dick game and want to try it for themselves?

Who will drag him to mandatory family gatherings, knowing his dad would slash his trust fund for missing yet another one?

Not Kim Bora, his first kiss, a week before your own with Lee Seo-jun.

Not Park Soojin, the first girl he felt up under the shirt, three days before you let Kang Doyun do the same to you.

Not Cho Eunji, the only girl he ever took on a second date, the night that you made things official with Jeong Jaehyun.

You spent countless nights crying over a boy who saw you merely as a friend. The little sister that tagged along to playdates because her brother wasn’t allowed to have fun without her. The spoiled daughter of his father’s closest friend, who he was obligated to protect at school because she never hesitated to voice her blunt opinions, especially to those she thought sucked.

The same girl who saved the most sacred part of herself for her best friend. The girl who, without hesitation, turned down every single guy who promised they'd cherish such a precious gift. The girl who prayed to a God she didn't even believe in, hoping Jungkook would realize that the person who loved and cared for him most was right before his eyes all along.

All for that very boy to carelessly give his innocence to some random chick at a high school party, not even bothering to call her the next day.

That was the moment your perception of love shifted. That was the moment you stopped looking for what his words and touches could mean, and started seeing them for what they were. Friendly. Insincere. Meaningless.

You thought the day Jungkook confessed his feelings would be the happiest of your life. You imagined it would erase all the pain, all the tears, as if they were nothing more than a pathetic nightmare.

But you don't feel happy. You feel angry. Angry that the words you've longed to hear don't make you want to fall into his arms and never leave. Instead, they make you want to run and never come back.

So you do exactly that.

You ignore your phone and shoes lying on the pavement. You ignore your best friend's croaky shout of your name. You ignore that the stony road leading away from the University grounds only grows darker and darker the further you go. You ignore the sharp ache in your feet from the rocks beneath your bare soles. And you run.

You run faster than you ever have in your entire life. You run until your legs burn, unused to anything but your two weekly low-impact fucking pilate sessions. You run until Jungkook's yelling fades into the distance behind you.

You run until you can almost see the lights of the main street. You run until you hear his footsteps gaining on you, the stupid lacrosse captain clearing the distance twice as fast as you ever could. You run until the thumping of your heart drowns out the pain of the sticks and rubble digging into your feet.

You run until the light gets brighter. You run until the light gets closer. You run until you realize they aren't streetlights. You run until you realize it's the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. You run until you can't stop yourself quickly enough. You run until you hear the scream of your best friend behind you. You run until you don't feel the impact of the hit. You run until the world around you fades to black.

Your head hits the pavement hard, bouncing slightly.

Jungkook's arms are around you in an instant, cradling you close as he sobs, "No, no, no, baby, please."

The driver of the car, a college kid who looks just as shaken, gets out to check on you, his face pale and stricken.

"Go to the frat house and get Taehyung. Now." Jungkook barks at the boy, though his eyes never leave your face.

The kid nods frantically, dashing back towards campus, stumbling in his haste. Jungkook pays him no attention, his tears falling onto your face as he holds you tighter.

"Hold on, baby. It's okay. It's okay," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over his sobs. "It's okay. You're gonna be okay."

You lay limp in his embrace, your breathing shallow. His tears mix with the dirt and blood on your face as he presses his forehead against yours, his entire body shaking with sobs. He holds you tighter, rocking back and forth as he brushes the hair away from your face.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as he sat there in the dark, the cold night air wrapping around you both. What was realistically no more than two minutes felt like two hours. The distant sounds of the campus were muffled, the world shrinking down to just the two of you. Jungkook's tears didn't stop, his heart breaking more and more with each passing second of your silence.

"Ow, fuck." You groan weakly.

Jungkook's grip tightens as he lifts his head. "Y/N," he chokes softly, his hand supporting your head as you try to sit up. "D-Don't try to move too much. We're gonna—we're gonna get you to the hospital, okay?"

You looked at him, your eyes filled with confusion and pain. "Did I really just get hit by a fucking car?"

He shook his head with a teary laugh, his fingers gently caressing your hair. "No," he sniffled. "I managed to tackle you b-before... But you hit your head when we fell. I'm so sorry."

You nodded slowly, your hand resting on his head when he rested it on your chest, and you couldn't help but run your fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry."

His breathing stops, and he looks at you with the most saddened expression you've ever seen. "W-why the fuck would you say that? Don't apologize. None of this is your fault," Jungkook shook his head, his tears falling anew.

"I'm sorry for saying I hate you," you said softly, your hand resting on the side of his neck as he trembled. "If anything’s going to teach me of all people a lesson, it’s a near-death experience...” You let out a pained laugh, “Would hate if that was the last thing I ever said to you.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. "Y/N, you don't know how much I l—"

The sound of frantic footsteps interrupts him. Taehyung's voice calls out in panic, and within moments, he’s kneeling beside you, his face a mix of fear and relief.

"Oh fuck, Y/N," he said, his voice shaking as he quickly assesses your condition. "C'mon, we need to get you to a hospital," he says through teary eyes.

With Jungkook's help, you managed to get to your feet, leaning heavily on him for support. Taehyung saw you struggling to keep your balance and quickly scooped you into his arms, jogging over to his car he left running. He gently placed you in the backseat, and Jungkook was on the other side in an instant, getting you comfortable while your brother rushed to the driver's seat.

As you drove to the hospital, Jungkook didn’t let go of your hand.

Not as he forced you to drink from the water bottle Taehyung passed back to you. Not as he leaned your head on his chest, gently inspecting your scalp for any severe cuts or bleeding. Not as you grunted at him when he jiggled you slightly every time you closed your eyes for a second too long, worried that you were losing consciousness.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

"You've got a mild concussion," Dr. Choi said with a reassuring smile, her voice calm and professional. "You were fortunate. Your head hit the ground hard, but thankfully, there are no signs of severe trauma or bleeding."

Beside you, Jungkook's grip on your hand tightened. He exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, his gaze fixed anxiously on the doctor. "So, she's going to be okay?"

In the cushioned armchair next to your hospital bed, your brother shifted slightly in his sleep. You reached over to gently brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead, careful not to wake him.

Lately, his roles as frat president, lacrosse captain, and his involvement in the family business had worn him thin. The exhaustion had overwhelmed him, and he had fallen asleep almost as soon as he settled into the chair. This really is the last thing he needs to be doing, and so with a final look of guilt, you let your brother rest and turned back to Dr. Choi.

Dr. Choi responded to Jungkook with a nod. "Yes, she'll be fine," she assured him. "Concussions can cause symptoms like dizziness, headache, nausea, and fatigue. She might feel drowsy and out of sorts for a few days, but with rest and avoiding any strenuous activities, she should recover fully within a week."

You blinked, your head still throbbing but feeling a bit more relieved. "So, I can go home?"

"Yes," the doctor confirmed, writing some notes on your chart. "I'm going to release you shortly. Make sure you rest, avoid any physical exertion, and stay hydrated. If you experience any worsening symptoms—like severe headache, vomiting, or confusion—come back immediately, okay?"

Jungkook gave the doctor a firm nod. "We will."

Dr. Choi smiled at him, a soft expression on her face. "Good. And make sure she avoids screens for a bit—no phones, no computers, no TV. Just rest."

You groan while Jungkook just signals his understanding.

As the doctor turned to leave the room and finalize your discharge papers, she glanced back with a knowing smile. "And maybe a break from the drama for a little while too?"

Jungkook's head hung low as he continued to gently caress the back of your hand with his thumb.

"No more boys and no more running into traffic, got it. Thanks, doc." You nodded at the middle-aged woman, who gave you one last amused look before leaving the room.

That was six days ago.

The throbbing ache and, more importantly, the big ugly bump that was once on your forehead have now almost completely faded. If it hadn't, and you were stuck with a permanent scar on your face, you would've hunted down the kid who nearly hit you with his car and told him to finish the job.

Speaking of that kid, he tried to reach out to you quite a few times since you've been absent from classes. He couldn't get in direct contact with you since Jungkook had confiscated all of your devices, but he was persistent. He bugged almost every person he knew to be a close friend of yours until finally, on the second to last day of your 'quarantine', being the chronic people-pleaser that he is, Jimin cracked and brought him to your penthouse.

You were lounging on the sofa, your head resting in Jungkook’s lap as he read aloud to you, when Jimin ushered him in. You felt Jungkook stiffen instantly, and it took your sitting up and pressing down on his thigh to keep him from lunging at the poor boy.

His name is Lee Yongbok, an exchange student from Australia. He's a freshman, 19 years old, and his Korean dialect is fucking adorable.

Yongbok’s eyes were brimming with tears when he saw you, apologies tumbling from his lips for what felt like an eternity before you gently cut him off.

You first asked him if he was crying at your appearance and he just shook his head with a wobbly lip and said he’s just really happy to see you. Thank god. You were worried there was another bump somewhere that Jungkook hadn’t told you about.

You told him it was okay, that it wasn't his fault. That you were the crazy lady who ran in front of his car. That he did nothing wrong.

He dropped to his knees at your kindness, something nobody had ever done before. In fact, "kind" was probably the last word anyone would ever use to describe you.

He offered to pay for any medical bills, any necessities, anything you might need or couldn't afford. You giggled at the thought.

You thanked him for coming to see you. You told him not to lose any sleep over it, that you're okay and he's okay. You gave him your number and told him that when your grouchy caregiver returns your phone, you'd send him a text.

When he was about to depart, he asked if he could give you a hug. You nodded, telling him to come closer because Jungkook's hand was not letting go of your waist.

Yongbok happily pulled you and Jungkook into a joint hug since he refused to move. Jungkook reluctantly participated, giving the kid a pat on the back while he snuggled you both and you couldn't stop the loud laugh that escaped your lips.

Yongbok thanked you one last time before he left with Jimin and Minji, telling you to please let him know if you think of anything you may need. What a sweet boy.

Aside from making amends with Yongbok, and your close friends visiting your penthouse throughout the week to bring your schoolwork and random gifts, you haven’t had much interaction with the outside world.

You haven’t seen Mingyu since that night.

In person, at least. You've been texting frequently and even FaceTimed a few times. His eye was healing well, for which you’re very grateful.

The night Jungkook brought you home after the hospital, you found several missed calls from Mingyu on your phone that Yoongi delivered when he saw it on the ground outside whilst taking Minji home.

Your device ban hadn’t started yet, so you called him back immediately and spent over two hours talking and crying. You apologized for everything you had dragged him into, and he insisted you had nothing to be sorry for.

Mingyu truly is the kindest and most gentle soul, and you’ll always regret hurting him the way you did.

During that conversation, he told you he loved you.

Even though it took a messed-up situation to realize it, you knew you had love for Mingyu too. He had always been there for you whenever you needed someone, whether the nights you spent together were fueled by lust and sexual frustration or not, they were meaningful and amazing. He made it so easy to love him, even if your feelings couldn’t match the depth of his.

Mingyu had undoubtedly gotten the short end of the stick in your relationship, always giving more than he received. In your newfound friendship, you are determined to make it up to him. And you will.

Jungkook, too, had been deeply affected by the night’s events. After you finished up with Mingyu, Jungkook took your phone when you handed it to him and disappeared for an hour.

As far as you know, Jungkook apologized and they talked it out. Neither of them like going into much detail with you about it, which is a little frustrating, but you respect their privacy and don’t push further.

Jungkook did come back into your room with red puffy eyes though, and you softly teased him about crying before you snuggled up together and watched a movie.

Jungkook had taken a week off classes to look after you. You rolled your eyes when he first told you, not taking him seriously. But when you woke up the next day, cuddled against his chest while he scrolled through his TikTok feed, you started to believe him.

And when you tried to lean up and see what he was watching, only for him to immediately turn the device away, adhering to the doctor's orders of no screens, you realized just how serious he was.

Over the past six days, you've fallen into a stupid little domestic routine. Now, as you're almost fully recovered and preparing to return to classes tomorrow, a grey cloud looms over you both. The topic you haven't dared to address since that night is getting closer, heavier. You can both feel it.

That's why, as Jungkook slowly packs his clothes into his overnight bag in preparation for tomorrow and you sit on the edge of your bed, staring at your nails, the room is enveloped in a heavy silence.

You knew it was a bad idea to let him stay. To ignore everything that should've been sorted the first morning after the incident. But instead you chose to live in blissful ignorance for six days while you play fucking house.

But come on. Having Jungkook dote on you and care for you for an entire week? Please, that's every female student at Yonsei's wet dream. Quite a few guys, too.

You look up from your nails as he zips up his bag, kicking it to the corner of the room before resting the clothes he'll wear tomorrow on your dresser. He looks over at you, walking to the edge of the bed. For the first time in all the years you’ve consciously known him, he hesitates to touch you.

You blink at him, not moving, not saying anything.

Finally, Jungkook breaks the silence, his voice quiet and raspy, "Should we talk?"

You swallowed, nodding slightly. "Okay."

He sits down beside you, close but not touching. "I meant it, you know. Everything I said."

You hesitate, your gaze fixed down on your painted toes. "And what did you say?"

You can feel his eyes on you, but you don't look up. He brushes some hair—that's growing out nicely as you put it—behind his ear before taking a deep breath. He can't fuck this up.

"I've been in love with you since I learned what love was."

The room goes silent. Neither of you dare to even breathe.

"Wha-huh?"

"I've been in love with you ever since I learned what love was," You repeat.

You finally look at him, and he can't decipher the expression on your face. His eyes flicker between yours, searching for any sign that this is a prank, that Minji is about to burst in with a camera and tell him he's on live television.

"Maybe even before that," you continue, "but I just didn't know what it meant."

Jungkook’s heart races, each beat erratic and intense. He feels like he's about to pass the fuck out.

"No," he croaks.

You blink, "No?"

"No," he shakes his head, "you can't. Y-you can't be. That's not—you're n—what—what the fuck?"

You watch, silent, as he struggles with your revelation, the weight of your words clearly unsettling him.

Oh, you think. You've freaked him out by dropping the L word.

Well, you definitely misread the room there.

It’s not like you haven’t said "I love you" before. You tell each other that often enough—when he drops you off somewhere, at the end of your phone calls, when you give each other random gifts that remind you of the other.

But "I'm in love with you"? Yeah, that one’s a bit new…

Your stomach tightens, but you stay quiet, watching as his hand moves desperately through his hair, as if he doesn’t know what to do.

After a few minutes, he stops and turns to you. He didn't plan for it to go this way. He doesn't know what to fucking do.

You sigh, “I know this changes shit. Ruins everything. I thought I had it under control, but I really don't. And I'm not strong enough to keep pretending. So, if you're okay with still being in each other's lives, we need to set some clear boundari—"

"I fucking love you, Y/N." He kneels in front of you, taking one of your hands into both of his larger ones. "I've been obsessed with you since your mom brought you over to my house when we were five, and you told me my eyes looked like boba pearls."

You look into his eyes as he says that. They really do remind you of tapioca pearls…

"I can't remember a single day of my entire life where I haven't been in love with you. There is no me without you. You are all I can see when I think of my past and all I can see when I think of my future. No matter what you are to me, you're there. In every plan I make. In every dream I have. It's you. It's always been you."

You bite the inside of your bottom lip, fighting back tears. You’ve cried more in the last week than you have in your entire adult life.

"We are so fucking stupid." You sniffle, tipping your head back slightly to try and blink the tear up into your duct.

"We are," he agrees, gently tilting your head down and running his thumb under your lash line to catch the tear.

Once your face is dry, Jungkook's thumb travels down and brushes lightly over your bottom lip. He smiles when it feels exactly as he had imagined, another item mentally ticked off his bucket list.

You're about to ask if he's high when he suddenly springs into action, tackling you back onto the bed. You bounce slightly against the mattress as he holds himself up, careful not to squash you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck as you try, and fail, to suppress a smile at the idiot above you.

"It fucking sucked seeing you with other guys," he confesses, the words he’s been holding back for years finally breaking free.

Your fingers dance across his back, tracing idle patterns on the fabric of his shirt as you respond, “It fucking sucked seeing you with other girls.”

He pulls back slightly to look at you, a pout on his lips. "You should've told me, and I would've—"

“You should've told me!” you interject, giving him a playful smack on the chest. His frown deepens for a moment before breaking into a wide, uncontrollable grin.

He buries his head back into your neck, and you can feel him smiling against you. "You're such a loser," you giggle as you feel his teeth on your neck, not in a sexy biting way but because he's literally fucking grinning against you.

Time slips by quietly as your fingers sketch invisible designs across his back. Eventually, he breaks the comfortable silence. “Do you think we knew?” he murmurs, his voice muffled against your skin.

“Hmm?” you hum, your hand pausing in its motion to thread through his hair.

He shivers slightly under your touch before elaborating, “Do you think we knew that we were in love with each other?”

Your movements resume, alternating between letting his hair slip through your fingers and gentle scalp scratches. “Yeah, I think so."

He nestles closer, the sensation of your nails against his scalp coaxing a suppressed groan from him. "Why do you think we didn't say anything?"

"I don't know," you reply honestly. "Maybe we were too comfortable. Or maybe we were scared of what it would actually mean."

Jungkook lifts his gaze to meet yours, searching your eyes for answers. “What does it mean?” he asks quietly.

You smile, continuing to play with his hair. “You have a lot of questions,” you tease gently.

His nose scrunches at your evasive reply, and you run your finger down the bridge of it. "Such a pretty nose," you hum.

His eyes flutter shut at the touch, then snap open again. “You’re distracting me.”

The corners of your lips tug upwards. "Am I?"

He nods, making no move to stop the traces of your digit along his face. When your finger brushes the edge of his lip, he turns his head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the pad of your finger, his actions drawing a gentle smile from you.

"You don't—do you not want to," he starts, hesitating mid-sentence before pushing himself to continue, “be with me?”

You bite your lip thoughtfully, finishing your gentle explorations of his face, your hand settling back onto his back. “I want to be with you more than anything else in the world, Gukkie.”

He lets out a breath of relief at your words, but his face falls slightly when he senses your hesitation. "But?"

"But," you say softly, "I'm scared. I'd rather have you in my life as my best friend than not have you at all if things don't work out."

He shakes his head, his hand cupping your face gently. “I told you. No matter what you are to me, I want you in my life. Isn’t that the same for you?”

"Of course it is, but you can't guarantee we'll feel this way in—"

“You’re such a beautiful,” he interrupts, planting a soft kiss on your jaw, “intelligent,” another on your neck, “incredible,” he continues down to your collarbone, “pessimist.” He finishes with a kiss just above your heart.

He gazes up at you with a mischievous grin as you narrow your eyes at him. "I will always want you in my life, no matter what shit ends up happening. Even if you tell me you hate me, or you like, fuck my dad or something…" He looks at you seriously, and you roll your eyes, unable to stifle your snicker.

"Well, your dad is kind of a DILF—"

“I’ll never willingly leave your life. And I’ll never do anything to make you want me to leave. And I promise you, on everything that is holy,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to a tender spot below your ear, “I’ll want you in mine for the rest of my fucking days.”

“You better,” you tease, his smile pressing into your skin before you grow serious, “because I can’t lose you.”

Jungkook’s sigh warms your skin, his nose nudging your head back as he murmurs, “You really don’t understand just how obsessed I am with you, do you, baby?”

His gaze lingers on your exposed throat, tracing every swallow, every breath. Unable to resist, he leans in, his lips finding the base of your throat, humming in contentment at the little noise you make.

Slowly, he makes his way to the side of your supple neck, his lips never detaching from your skin on his journey. You feel his breath as he hovers over the area for a second in pausing, and you wonder if it's because he can hear your heart slamming against your ribcage.

No strenuous activities.

His lips finally latch onto the skin of your neck and you feel the tiniest flick of his tongue as he suckles at the flesh.

Avoid physical exertion.

You let out the softest, breathiest fucking moan he's ever heard, and he pulls off your neck with a wet pop. His bunny teeth poke out to nibble at the now moist skin as he slowly moves to your collarbone.

Make sure you rest.

His kisses get lower, hotter, wetter, until finally, his face hovers over your thin little sleep shirt that he's considered throwing down the garbage disposal since you put it on. Bra, nowhere in sight, your hardened nipples taunt him through the pathetic excuse of a t-shirt. He glances up at you with eyes darkened with desire.

Fuck it, you've had enough rest.

You slide your hands up the back of his neck and dra him down to you, your lips meeting his with urgency. You swallow the surprised groan that escapes him, his arms framing your face as he looms over you.

Jungkook feels the tension in his muscles melt away as he surrenders to you. When you part your lips slightly, inviting him closer, he doesn't hesitate.

Your body ignites when his tongue slips into your mouth, lapping against yours and exploring as if it had always belonged there. As your back arches towards him instinctively, he slips large hand behind it, pressing you flush against him.

The countless times he's imagined this exact scenario could easily label him a certified stalker, but nothing could have prepared him for the real thing. He was absolutely fucked.

You're lost in the sensation, the warm air of your bedroom enveloping you blissfully. Nothing but the sounds of your mouths moving against each other's, tongues melting into one. Jungkook swallows the breathy whimper that escapes your lips with pride, his hips shifting forward at the fact that he's the one drawing such a noise from you. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him down, urging him to erase any space left between you.

"Fuck, Y/N," he chokes out, parting from your lips to suck in a deep breath as he feels the warmth between your thighs through his sweatpants.

"I know," you nod dumbly, mind foggy as you grind your hips into his desperately.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "It's never fucking felt like this," he confesses, each word punctuated with a thrust that draws a deeper moan from your lips.

"I know," you whine in agreement, your left arm linking around the back of his neck as you meet his movements, your entire body responding to his every move.

It hasn't felt like this. Ever. You've thought that you've had some pretty good sex in your life, but this is… different. All you’ve done is kiss and grind a little, and yet you can feel those tingles in your fucking toes that people always sing about.

It would be easy to say that it's because it's been eight long days since your last orgasm, but you know that's not the case. It's because it's him.

You've never wanted a cock in you so badly. Especially not after just three measly minutes of dry humping. But god, you're so turned on right now you're pretty sure if he pulled your panties to the side, it would spray at him like a fucking fire hydrant. As you said, it's been eight days; you're a little feral right now…

You feel him stiffening through his sweats, your back arching a little more as you shift and wiggle to try and usher his covered cock through the folds of your covered pussy.

Jungkook's hips stutter when he feels you trying to line him up, and his head jerks up to look at you. He drinks in your blissed-out features; lip between your teeth, head tilted slightly, eyes closed. So pretty.

Your eyes flutter open at the long pause in his movements, and your breath catches in your throat at the sight.

Cheeks flushed, lips red and swollen, eyes hooded.

You almost let a giggle slip when you see the similarities between his horny face and his drunk face.

"Do you want to take a nap?"

You blink at him.

"I'm sorry?"

The pink tinge that coats his cheeks creeps down his neck, disappearing into the collar of his shirt. "I just thought—"

"What?" you ask, maaaybe a little offended, "you don't wanna fuck me?"

His brows furrow as he sits up, his heels resting under his butt as he stares at you like you've just kicked a puppy before his very eyes. "First of all, I want to fuck you. I've wanted to fuck you since you made me pop my first boner at your dumb little pool party—"

"Jeongguk," you cringe, "we were like twe—"

"I've never wanted to fuck someone more than I. want. to. fuck. you." You almost laugh at the serious expression on his face but bite it back when you notice the undertone of worry in his gaze.

"I just want it to be perfect," he sighs, his tattooed hand lifting to brush through his hair, one of his nervous tics. "There's so much I want to do... and I want it all to be, like, perfect... god, Y/N, I'm being such a little bitch—"

"No," you cut him off simply, "you're being really fucking hot."

He looks at you with a slight pout as you shoot him a small smile before sitting up and mirroring his position. Your bare knees touch his that are covered by the gray Celine sweatpants you bought him last Christmas as a stocking stuffer. You're a good deal shorter than him, so your head is tilted up slightly, blinking at him slowly through your lashes.

You watch his gaze soften and you internally smirk. There we go.

You've waited far too long for the man sitting in front of you on your queen-sized bed—staring at you with more lust than you know what to do with—to prolong this any longer.

You can have your perfect night when you're not a week into an unplanned celibacy course, and your clit doesn't feel like it's going to shrivel up and snap off if left unattended any longer.

"If you want to wait, we'll wait." You shrug as you look from his left eye to his right, then down to his swollen lips. "But I haven't touched myself in eight days... And it hurts, Gukkie."

Your head hits the pillow as his mouth is back on yours in an instant. You moan in satisfaction, your lips parting eagerly to let him in further. Your legs wrap back around his waist happily, and your foot trails down to rub soft patterns against his hamstring while his tongue plays with yours.

"This is just a practice run," he grunts as he separates from you, kissing his way down your chest before he gets to the valley of your breasts.

"Yeah, yeah, grace period, whatever you want, baby, just keep going," you blurt in a huff, eyes closed in anticipation as his mouth is about to finally do some damage.

You almost scream when he stops.

You snap your eyes open and look down at the son of a bitch breathing hot air onto your already hot skin while he just smiles at you.

"Say that again."

"Say wha—"

"Baby. You called me baby, say it again."

You stare at him for a moment, your idea to tease him diminishing with the last of your patience.

"Baby," you add a shy pout to really sell it and fiddle with the hem of your shirt, "can you suck on them for a little?"

You watch as Jungkook's smile fades and his eyes unfocus, like he just transported into a different state. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he nods once, almost to himself, before he takes the bottom of your shirt that's ridden up to your belly button and lifts it to rest under your chin. Your tits bounce slightly as they spill from the fabric, and he lets out a soft "fuck" before diving in.

His hot mouth latches to your left nipple, groaning when he feels the bud pebble against his tongue. His lips pucker around the nub, sucking it into his mouth desperately, and he lets out a loud moan. This is it. This is heaven, he thinks.

Your legs shakily unlatch from around his waist, and you rest your feet on the mattress, your knees bent and pressing against his sides while he makes out with your tits.

His teeth graze gently over your nipple before he gives it a little nibble, which causes your back to arch. Doing so forces more of your boob into his mouth and he lets out a low muffled groan through a mouthful of your flesh.

"Mmmf've wanted these in my mouth for a long fucking time..." He slurs when he pulls back. His big hands cup your big tits, his gaze concentrated and focused as he jiggles and plays with them, like he can't believe what he's seeing.

"Do you wanna fuck them?"

Jungkook lets out a loud groan at your filthy words, spoken with such an innocent tone his cock is almost confused as it swells like a fucking water balloon in his pants.

His left hand continues to rub soothingly at one of your tender nipples while the other slips down between you. He looks up at the blurry need in your eyes, and his traveling hand almost misses the waistband of his sweats.

"I always knew you were dirty," he breathes out, the words muffled as he plants soft, wet kisses on each of your nipples, sending shivers down your spine. With a strained groan, he frees his painfully hard erection from the confines of his briefs. "But fuck, baby, this is gonna kill me."

God, the way he says baby. Straight to the fucking core.

You tap his bum with your foot and a pretty smile, sitting up on the bed when he lifts his frame to let you slide out. His angry red cock is flush against his stomach, only the top few inches visible from the briefs that rose back up to cover him.

He lets you usher him to sit at the edge of your bed, his feet digging into your fluffy rug as he tries to ground himself while you settle. Your shirt is still being held up on its own because your tits won't let it fucking fall and Jungkook shakes his head in awe at the sight. Fucking unbelievable.

The moment you kneel on the ground, the tops of your feet flat against the carpet as you lean up slightly, your eyes fixate on his throbbing cock like it's a priceless painting. Jungkook loses his mind.

Your eyes slowly lift to his when you hear his heaved, choky breathing. Your bottom lip catches between your teeth as you fight the urge to smile. "You're so pretty, Gukkie."

"You're prettier, baby," he replies without missing a beat, one hand supporting his weight on the bed while the other gently caresses your face.

A radiant smile spreads across your lips as you turn your face to place a fleeting kiss on his palm. His lips tug upwards at the action before the air is suddenly ripped from his lungs.

Leaning forward, you pull his briefs fully down, unsheathing his entire shaft. You tug the boxers and sweatpants so they rest under his balls, cooing at the way the elastic slightly pushes up his length, making it even angrier as a dribble of liquid gathers at the tip. You lift his shirt absentmindedly to get it out of the way, and he understands, lifting a hand to the back of the neckline and pulling it off his torso.

You barely have a chance to appreciate his tight abs, tiny waist, sinful ink that coats his skin, or the sparkling Cartier chain that dangles from his neck, a mirror of your own.

Your head tilts as you admire the prettiest dick you've ever had in front of you, each vein and ridge perfectly imperfect, complementing each other in a way that would look strange if a single one were to go missing. "Needa..." you hum, entranced, "get it wet first."

"Fuckkkkk," Jungkook moans as you lean down and lick a fat strip from the base of his balls all the way up his shaft, sucking the tip into your mouth.

Your eyes flutter closed on their own, the feeling of his heavy cock weighing your tongue down, making you drowsy and floaty. The scent of your body wash wafts from his skin, igniting a possessive fire in your gut you didn't even know you had as you suckle at the head. The moment he twitches against your tongue, any thought of titty-fucking flies right out your penthouse window. You're not letting him out of your mouth.

"Ohhh-hhh," he stammers as your tongue focuses on the ridge of his tip, lapping at his frenulum like it's your favorite blueberry flavored lollipop.

His hand, which had dropped back to the bed when you took him in your mouth, lifts to run through your hair, brushing it out of your face when it threatens to get in the way of your masterwork. Your eyes blink open in thanks, looking up at him dazedly, and when you catch his own, he throws his head back with a groan.

"Fuck!" He curses as you hum around his shaft, letting your lips part slightly so saliva can drip from your mouth and trail down his cock. His head snaps up to watch as you keep pushing more spit until you deem there enough before your right-hand lifts to clasp around the member.

Jungkook's eyes roll back, the grunts falling from his lips not even registering in his brain as they spew. "Fuck, baby," he huffs out. You wiggle your fingers until you have a good hold on his cock before giving it a few lazy squeezes to get the blood pumping.

"Fucking fuck!" He's absolutely done for, his entire vocabulary vanishing from his mind as you play with his dick like a joystick. Your tongue gives a final flick to lap up the precum spilling from his glan before you inhale deeply through your nose and start to feed the shaft down your throat.

The walls of your throat contract slightly as his thick girth tests your boundaries, but you push through the resistance and force it further until your lips reach your hand gripping the base of his cock.

"Oh my fucking god," Jungkook almost falls backward, but the hand that's not holding your hair out of the way steadies his balance, shaking as it works to keep him upright.

His hips jerk unconsciously when you move your hand from the base, resting it gently against his balls as you inhale through your nose again and finish him off. "Baby! B-fuck!" Jungkook would like to say that it was a manly groan, but it was a pure and outright whine.

His vocality goes straight to your cunt, your clit aching and throbbing against your underwear, screaming at you to let it breathe. You resist the urge to trail a hand down and relieve the pain, instead using it to cup Jungkook's full ballsack and roll it between your fingers. His whines get louder at that, and you almost smile around his cock.

You wait until you feel the familiar sensation of the cockhead tickling the back of your throat, the automatic gag rising through your entire body, making you swallow harshly against his shaft.

When you swallow, you rid the excess saliva that was in your mouth, so you lift off for a second to gather more. As you do, you look up to your best friend and see him staring down at you like you hung the stars, and the smile finally breaks its way to your lips.

You lean up to give him a kiss, and he meets you halfway, his hand falling from your hair to cup your face as he melts into your mouth. It's short, sweet, and soft, yet it makes your entire body flush with goosebumps.

"I love you so much," Jungkook breathes when you pull away, and you coo at the softy, pressing a gentle kiss against his pretty nose.

"I love you more, my Gukkie," you reply sweetly before returning to the task at hand.

"Not possi—" his words are cut off when you let a stream of saliva drip from your mouth before taking him down in one swift motion.

"Oh," he moans, both hands gathering your hair into a loose ponytail, following the rise and fall of your head as you deepthroat his cock. "Oh, fuck. Yeah, fucking shittt."

You quicken your pace, your right hand like a magnet below your lips, gliding up and down his length as you squeeze it intermittently, picking up on the subtle jerks of his hips. The spit coating his cock squelches with every stroke, the filthy noise echoing in your bedroom, making your hips shift against the heels of your feet. You're so turned on. Why is his dick so fucking pretty?

Your mouth is lethal, dragging all the way until the only thing left in your cave is the tip before gulping all the way back to the base. "Yesss, baby," he chokes, "taking it so well, my baby. So fucking well."

His praise loosens the final screw in your hazy brain, your hand on the base moving to grip his thigh as you gurgle as deep as you can, the tip brushing against your uvula. You gag, hard and loud, spit spilling from your lips as your teary eyes squeeze shut. Your nails dig into his skin, and he lets out the loudest moan of the night, his hips jerking forward roughly, forcing another gag from your throat.

"Mmmmmfh," you moan desperately, squeezing his thigh tightly and running your free hand back to his balls. You roll the sack in your hand, lifting your head up and down his cock with no mercy, sloppily choking on his throbbing length.

His hands tangled in your hair are shaking, his abdomen tensing as he's overwhelmed with pleasure. "God, look at you just taking it all babyy, hhffuckk,” he praises through a grunt, watching the saliva spill out from the corners of your mouth, dripping down to his balls while you fondle them. “Best fucking girl, you know that? Making me feel so fucking good. Just want me to come down your tight little throat, don’t you, my baby?"

Your eyes roll back behind your closed lids as you nod pathetically with a mouthful of his cock. You lift off with a wet pop, your eyes blinking open as you guide your hand from cupping his balls up to his shaft. You jerk him tight and sloppily before leaning down and taking his sac into your mouth. It's big, barely fitting in your mouth, but you force your jaw wider, using your tongue to usher his balls inside.

"Ahhhhffuck," Jungkook whines, his head thrown back in pure ecstasy. Your tongue laps around his balls ruthlessly as you quicken your tugs on his shaft. When you moan greedily, wiggling your head as the sac pulses and rolls against your tongue, Jungkook feels the familiar sensation flooding his body. It's faster and harder than ever before. He tries to gesture you off him, afraid if he speaks he will lose control, but you don't relent.

"Baby, y-you gotta hop off," he heaves, his ass cheeks clenching together to try and hold off the urge to cum.

"Mm-mm." You hum a no through a mouthful of ballsack, eyes fluttering open to look up at the gorgeous man trying to take away your meal. Your hand, running amok on his cock twists and squeezes, never halting as you blink up at Jungkook through your lashes.

"Ah," he whines with a shake of his head, his hips thrusting into the air, your mouth jolting with the movement as it's attached to his balls. You hum happily, tongue flicking against them. You can't wait to see his cum dripping down his abs—

Your mouth is ripped from his balls, hand unwillingly releasing his cock as he throws you back onto your bed with purpose. "Hey—"

Jungkook swallows your whine with his mouth, cutting off your thoughts at the source when his tongue delves through your lips, lapping at the taste of him lingering on your tongue. He successfully makes you forget what unimportant thing you were going to say as he devours you, your mouths moving together, sloppy and wet.

He pulls your tongue into his mouth and suckles on the muscle while his hand runs gently over your still-exposed nipple before trailing down to your shorts. Jungkook groans around your tongue when he brushes lightly over your heat, feeling the fabric coating your pussy-lips wet to the touch.

With a final suck on your tongue, he lets it slide back into your mouth before parting from your lips. He looks down at the area he's tracing light strokes on, and his cock twitches at the sight.

"Oh, baby..." He coos, his thumb running over the wet patch in awe before looking to you. Your lip is drawn between your teeth as you nibble lightly on the flesh, eyes clouded as you stare at him with a mellow haze. "So wet, pretty... Gukkie didn't give her any attention, and she's all achy now, hmm?"

"Mmhm," you nod softly, the pout on your face still visible even with your lip tugged between your teeth. Jungkook pulls his gaze from his thumb and looks at you, all soft and sweet, just for him.

"Need the ache to go away, don't you, pretty?" He mumbles against your mouth, not applying pressure but just letting your lips rest against each other.

"Yes, please, Gukkie." You respond, voice soft as you stare at his lips patiently, waiting for him to give them to you.

"Good manners, baby," he praises delicately before leaning forward and giving you a slow, gentle kiss. You melt into him, the sound of his pleased sigh making your muscles all mushy.

Jungkook pulls back and then presses three quick, rapid kisses against your lips, making you giggle. That seemed to be his goal when the side of his mouth curved upwards at your laugh as he lifted himself off your frame.

He kicks off his sweatpants the rest of the way, and they fall to the floor next to your bed, but he tucks his still painfully hard cock back into his black briefs to hold it for the time being.

Jungkook looks down at his effortlessly beautiful best friend, lying prettily on her bed, hair sprawled out against the pillow while she waits for him to take her any way he desires. Teenage him would be freaking the fuck out if he could see him right now.

His gaze drags slowly up your body, a lingering moment spent on the meat of your thighs, and he swallows before finally locking onto the space between.

You try to will yourself to be patient despite the aching throb coming from your heat, but your leg betrays you and twitches slightly. Jungkook catches the movement instantly.

"Gonna flip you on your tummy, okay baby?" he says distractedly, eyes never straying from the wet patch on your shorts.

"Oka—"

You don't get to finish your sentence before his hands are on your hips and he flips you as gently as a horny lacrosse captain can. A surprised squeak slips out when your face hits the mattress, and you both giggle, Jungkook leaning down to kiss your shoulder with a soft, sorry pretty.

Jungkook has always been a tits guy. Tried and true. It may have stemmed from growing up with a best friend that he was hopelessly in love with who happened to develop the greatest rack he'd ever seen in his life... But right now, as Jungkook stares at your soft, round asscheeks stuffed into those little cotton sleep shorts, he's beginning to rethink his entire life choices.

He kneels at the edge of the bed, using your ankle to gently pull you further toward him. You slide down the bed without any complaints, trying not to arch your back so you can be even closer to him.

Jungkook continues his ministrations on your curves before trailing up to the waistband of your shorts. He pulls them done, your panties coming with them, and he groans at the way the flesh ripples when released from the fabric. He grabs a greedy handful of each cheek with his big hands and gives them a rough squeeze, relishing in the way you push back into his grip.

"So pretty, my baby," he hums, continuing to knead the flesh as he dips to pepper kisses all over the flushed skin.

You whine, your hips grinding into the bed in an attempt to put some pressure on your ignored clit. He notices your movements and presses one last kiss to your right asscheek before sitting back and pulling your bottoms off fully. They fall into a pile next to his discarded sweatpants, and you breathe a sigh of relief at the freedom from the confines.

When one of Jungkook's hands slips between your belly and the mattress, you can't stop the noise of satisfaction that leaves you when he gently ushers you to your hands and knees. You quickly tug your top the rest of the way off, slinking it over your head and handing it back blindly to Jungkook. He takes it from you instantly, chucking it at the growing pile of clothes next to him.

On instinct, you fall to your forearms, nipples rubbing against your duvet as you arch your back, biting your lip when even the warm air of your bedroom feels cool against your burning cunt.

"Fucking hell..." Jungkook chokes out, the sight of your soaked pussy spread and bearing for him, making his mouth water.

"Ah-fuck!" A high-pitched squeal rips from your throat when he leans down and delivers a long, broad lick up your slit.

He lets out a loud moan into your pussy when you jerk back into him at the feeling. You're so fucking wet from being so worked up, and his cock throbs against his briefs at the taste of your juices leaking onto his tongue. Jungkook's hands slide to the front of your thighs to steady you as he loses himself, his tongue wrapping your clit, sucking the hardening nub messily into his mouth. "Mmmmfh," he sighs contently like he was taking a sip of a well-made café latte instead of feasting on your cunt like a madman.

When he releases your clit, dragging the flat of his tongue from the button all the way to your opening, your knees buckle. "Yes, Gukkie, fuckk yes!" You cry, writhing against his sinful tongue.

Jungkook almost purrs in delight, lapping up the slick between your folds, trying to get every last drop. His tongue finds its way to the entrance of your core, teasingly dipping in and out once, twice, before he loses control and thrusts it as far as it can go. "Uhhh-shhhittt," your head falls forward with a shuddery gasp, your walls clenching around his tongue, pulling a low groan from him.

Jungkook's hands slide up from your thighs to rest on your asscheeks, and before you can process the realization that he hasn't used his fingers on you yet, he's gripping the flesh and pulling you harshly into his face. "Uh!" You moan, your ass flush against his face as he buries himself, nose and tongue, right into your cunt.

"Hhhhhhhhhh," you're not even saying words anymore, just useless, incoherent noises spluttering from your lips as you quiver, grinding your pussy back into his face.

He tries not to focus on your other hole, the tight little puckered fucking one that's basically blinking at him. Taunting him. He closes his eyes as he focuses on losing himself in your pussy. Another day, he thinks.

Jungkook's mouth is covered in your juice, his head shaking from side to side as he drags his tongue furiously around your cunt. The filthy sound of your sopping pussy getting devoured by his tongue resounds around your bedroom, Jungkook's hips rutting into the edge of your bed needily.

"Yes, Gukkie, yes!!! So good babyyyy--ohhh fuckkkk!" You scream, your nails digging into the mattress as you grind your pussy back into his face.

Jungkook's eyes roll back, his moans getting swallowed by your slick folds. Fuck oxygen, he hopes he passes out.

He takes one of the hands resting on your ass and brings a finger to your leaky entrance. He pulls away for a millisecond to suck in a breath before dropping down instantly and enveloping your clit with his tongue, sucking it into his mouth. And with that, he finally pushes his middle finger into your hole.

You try to moan, but with the pressure on your clit and the sensation of finally being filled, the only sound that escapes is a strangled gasp. He lets your clit slip out of his mouth before his tongue quickly darts out to flick against it vigorously, his finger delving deeper into your hole with every jab of his tongue.

Your body shudders as he expertly works his tongue and finger in tandem, each movement driving you closer to the edge. "G-Gukkie, I'm so fucking close," you whimper, your thighs trembling around his head.

Jungkook's free hand tightens on your ass, pulling you even closer as he tries to add a second finger, his eyebrows furrowing at the resistance. "Relax baby, gotta let Gukkie in." He gives a particularly hard tongue of your clit, a pleased hum declared into your pussy when he feels your walls loosen to let his other slip in.

His tongue flicks faster, more determined, as he feels your walls flutter around his digits. He pulls back a hair to mumble against your clit, "You can let go now, my baby. I've got you."

With a harsh flick of his tongue and a curl of his fingers, you tense up. "Oh my fuck, Gukkie, yes!" You cry out, your body convulsing as he pounds against your g-spot with his thick fingers. Your eyes roll back, a final scream ripping from your throat as you shatter, your orgasm ripping you apart from the inside out.

Jungkook doesn't stop, his tongue and fingers relentless as they pull every last drop of pleasure from your shaky core. The hand of his that is still gripping your ass slips up to gently rub against your back when you collapse into the mattress.

Tears well in your eyes as Jungkook delivers a final drag of his tongue from your bud to your hole, swallowing every last drop of juice leaking from your cunt. He withdraws his fingers carefully, replacing them with soft, soothing strokes along your inner thighs.

It takes you a solid minute to come down from your high, your limbs still tingling from the hardest orgasm you've had in, well, ever. Jungkook continues his soft strokes against your thighs while you catch your breath, his head spinning and mouth still coated in your remnants.

"I get it now." Your voice is muffled by the comforter you face planted into, and you currently don't have the strength to get up.

"Hm?" Jungkook hums amusedly, his hand still tracing gently over your skin.

"Why girls always want your dick so bad. I get it now. If your tongue is that good, fucking hell..."

Jungkook snorts, leaning down to press a kiss on your lower back before flopping down to lay next to you. You finally lift your head from the blanket to look at your best friend, who's already smiling down at you, his tattooed arm tucked behind his head while he rests against the headboard.

His brow raises when you giggle suddenly and sit up. He doesn't have time to admire your bare tits almost in his face when your hand lifts up to his mouth. You're still giggling as you wipe at the shiny substance that coats his lips. A shocked gasp leaves Jungkook's lips, and he grabs your hand in a flash, his eyes holding clouds of pure betrayal.

"Why would you do that?" He's genuinely upset!

It's your turn to snort this time, lifting a leg over his lap so you're straddling him. "I'm sorry, Gukkie." You entertain him with an amused eye roll, leaning in to plant a sweet kiss against his lips.

Jungkook dissolves into the kiss, about to deepen it when you pull away. His eyes snap open, ready to protest, when suddenly your tongue flicks out, dragging flat across his lips to gather your slick that coats his mouth.

"Mm," you hum, making sure to get every bit around the corner of his lips and even the speck of gloss you see on the tip of his nose.

Jungkook is frozen. His cock thrashes against his briefs as he stares at you in complete awe, your tongue sliding back into your mouth to swallow the juices—your juices—that you just lapped up from his fucking lips.

Your lip darts between your teeth as you try not to laugh at his darkened expression. Looking down at the source of the throbbing against your bare pussy, you let out a teasing coo. "That looks really sore, Gukkie..."

Jungkook swallows. He needs to calm down or he's going to pin you into the mattress and fuck you open, raw.

"It is." He manages to choke out.

You pout, lifting your gaze back to him. "Don't want you to be sore."

"You don't?" He returns softly, dragging his hand over your bare thigh.

You shake your head so cutely that he almost shivers. You lean closer, gaze flickering from his pretty nose and then back to his eyes. "I could make the pain go away if you want..."

"Yeah? You wanna make Gukkie feel better, pretty?"

You nod, the hazy feeling taking over again as he runs his hands gently up your hips, resting gently on the swell of your ass.

You lift off him slightly, his hands moving with you as they're glued to your bum. Jungkook bites his lip at the wet patch you left on his boxers, and he thanks God he did because it muffles the pitchy groan that escapes him when your hand slithers beneath his waistband.

His eyes flutter shut when you give his painfully red cock a few gentle strokes, his head dropping back to hit the headboard.

"Baby," you giggle, "you're so fucking hard."

He lifts his head to give you a deadpanned fucking obviously look, and you just snicker, leaning forward to kiss his pouty lips.

"Oh no. Fuck."

He jerks forward slightly at your serious tone, his hands moving from your butt to cup the one of yours that froze around his dick worriedly. "Huh? What's wrong?"

Your eyes soften as you don't respond verbally, a devastated look clouding your gaze. He sits up seriously now. "Baby, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I don't have any condoms." Your brows are pulled together so tightly, which Jungkook still doesn't like, but he releases a breath at your words.

"Fuck, Y/N. Don't do that. You scared me, I thought you were hurt or something." His head falls back to rest against your headboard in relief instead of pleasure this time.

You frown. "Why aren't you upset? Oh, did you bring some?" Jungkook almost laughs at the thought, lifting his head to watch as you release his dick to glance behind you at his overnight bag.

"What-no, baby. Of course I didn't bring condoms. This is probably the last thing I ever expected to happen."

Your pout is in full swing now, turning back to Jungkook with a very unhappy look. He just shakes his head at your pretty face, planting his hands on the mattress beside him and pushing up to press your lips to his.

When you pull away, Jungkook is about to ask if you want to grind on him over his briefs because he would be finished in approximately thirty seconds—

"I'm on the pill." You say softly.

He swallows. "I know."

"Do you-are you clean?"

"Yeah," he chokes out, "haven't ever not used a condom. And tested after that scare the other week with...uh..."

"Did you really forget her name?" You squint, shaking your head incredulously at his genuine look of confusion.

"I-uh, yeah I don't know... All I remember is that it kinda burned when I peed—"

You roll your eyes. "Her name," you press a quick kiss to his lips, "was Yejin."

"Ohh, yeah—"

"You also did that stupid 10-packet spicy ramen challenge that day." Another quick kiss to his lips.

"Hey, that was for a fundraiser—"

"And I'm clean... Tested with Mingyu."

"Oh." Jungkook's heartbeat picks up. Not at the Mingyu part, okay maybe a little, but mostly at the fact that you're hinting at him taking you fucking raw right now.

Your lips purse, his response suddenly making you feel stupid for asking. Jungkook picks up on the look instantly, his hands cradling your face when you try to look away.

"Baby," you're about to apologize when he continues, "it's your choice. I'd fuck you wrapped in a garbage bag if you asked me to."

Your lips wiggle as you try not to smile, looking back at him with a glint in your eyes. "You're really cute, Gukkie."

"Oh?" He hums, "I thought I was a pussy eating God... but cute works too I guess."

You snicker, falling into his lips and he swallows your soft giggles with his tongue. "So humble," you whisper against his lips when you break away.

Jungkook's about to tease further, but you don't give him the chance, your hand slipping back down to wrap around his shaft. A soft shudder leaves him, his hands falling from your face to grip your ass again, squeezing it firmly.

You're still a bit sensitive, but nothing you can't handle, and you shift forward a little so the lips of your pussy press against his length.

"Oh-fuck." He moans at the feeling of a bare pussy on his cock. And it's your pussy. Holy fuck.

You place both your hands on his thick thighs, leaning back to get the right angle before you slide your hips up and down, dragging his length through your wet slit. Jungkook's hands sprawl over your back when you lean back, cradling you almost, and he keens at the sloppy, squishy sounds that fill the room.

Your clit is alive again, thumping against his cock every time it drags through your lips, and you heave out a strained moan at the fresh wave of arousal that washes over you.

Your hand pushes against Jungkook's chest gently as you sit up, determined. He lets himself fall back against the headboard, face flushed, neck vein visible, while he watches intently. Your knees press into the mattress on either side of his thighs as you lean forward, your hand reaching behind you blindly to grip his shaft before you line it up with your entrance.

Your brows furrow, and you bite your bottom lip hard as you try to press the bulbous head in. Your opening does its best to stretch around the intruder and you let out a relieved whine when it finally gets sucked in.

"Fuck." Jungkook whimpers, his head slamming back hard against the headboard. Your walls burn as you struggle to accommodate his huge length, and he can fucking feel it.

You let the tingles flooding up your spine settle for a second. Then, you take a big breath, and drop.

"Mother fuckkkkk." Jungkook groans, his hands squeezing your ass tightly in shock as you take his entire length in one go.

Your eyes are closed, head thrown back in pleasure as you bask in the feeling for a moment. Every inch of you is filled with his thick girth. You've never felt so full and so fucking good.

You're so wet. So warm. So tight. Jungkook is grateful for the pause in your movements because he thinks he actually would've fucking come if you—

Your hips lift up until all that's remaining in you is his fat cockhead before you sink back down and take it all in one swoop.

Lewd noises spew from his lips as he forces his eyes to stay open, watching you swallow his cock over and over and over.

"So fucking good at that, baby, shit..." Jungkook grunts.

Your nails dig into his thighs at the praise, your head lifting back up to look at him as you increase your pace.

You begin to move faster, riding him with an increasing intensity that makes the bed creak beneath you. The friction and fullness send waves of pleasure through your body, making you gasp and moan. Your hands find his shoulders, using them as leverage as you bounce on his length harder.

"Godssooo fucking good," you pant, your voice a breathless slur. "So deep, Gukkie. C-can feel it in my tummy."

Jungkook's hands slide up your back with a growl, pulling you closer until your chests are pressed together. He captures your lips in a heated kiss, tongues tangling as the rhythm of your hips grows more frantic. The slick sounds of your bodies slamming together fills the room, enveloping you both in desire.

Breaking the kiss, Jungkook's lips trail down your neck, sucking and nipping at your sensitive skin. "Taking it so good, my baby," he worships against your collarbone. "So fucking perfect."

The praise spurs you on, your movements becoming pathetically desperate as you chase your release. You can feel the burning tension coiling in your core, ready to snap, when suddenly his feet move to plant themselves into your mattress and he begins to thrust up into you.

"Oh fuck yes, fuck!" You gasp, your knees trembling as he plows relentlessly into you from below.

"Shittttt," he groans, his grip on your hips tightening as he pulls you up and down on his cock, balls slapping against your ass as he pistons furiously into your pussy. "So good at riding cock, baby, taking it all like a proper fucking slut."

You cry loudly at his words, your nails digging into his shoulder slightly as you writhe against his thrusts. "It's the pilates," you choke out, "developed good core strength. Great for riding dick."

Jungkook lets out a loud laugh, leaning forward to bury his face in your neck while his thrusts get even deeper. He feels your walls tighten around him sorely, and he heaves a shaky breath before slipping a tattoed hand between you two, thumb attaching to your clit. Your fucked-out uh-uh-uh’s echoes in his ears with every plunge of his cock, fueling him to go harder.

The sloppy bud twitches under his touch, his thumb slipping from how soaked you are, but he doesn't back down. He chases the hard nub and flicks it in time with his thrusts, cock jittering as you let out your loudest moan of the night.

"I'm gonna come, Gukkie. I-I'm gonna fucking come! Oh my goddddd!" you're bouncing on him wildly, your walls clenching furiously with no pattern, completely run with pleasure that you can't control it.

"Come on, baby," he whines through a thrust, his balls squeezing as you get impossibly tighter, begging to let them release their fluids, "Ohh-h-ffuck, can I come too, baby? Can I come in you? Oh fuck, fuck."

You don't even get to answer as you completely shatter, your orgasm taking control over your whole body that you swear you see the light. You cry out his name as best you can, your body convulsing, shaking around his length.

You can't possibly speak as you collapse against his chest but as you fall, you see the pained look in his eyes as he tries not to come. You want it so bad. More than you've ever wanted anything in your life. Before you know what you're doing, your thighs tighten around his legs, your mouth moves to the nape of his neck, and you bite. Hard.

Jungkook spasms, the deepest growl of a moan rips through his throat as he throws his head back and cums, deep and hot, right into your cunt. You whimper around the chunk of flesh captured between your teeth, his thick load tickling your walls as it fills your hole.

You feel complete.

Jungkook's hands gently stroke your back, grounding you as you come down from your high. Nothing but the sound of both your heavy breathing fills your ears before Jungkook breaks the silence. "You did so well, baby."

Your tongue laps and licks softly at the skin of his neck to soothe the subtle teeth marks you left, and he lets out a pleased noise through a shiver. Your head lifts to look into his eyes, a hazy smile spreading across your face when you take in his blissed-out features. "I didn't know sex could feel like that."

Jungkook's eyes flutter open at your words, his stomach clenching in pure joy that his softening cock still tucked up inside of you even lets out a shudder. "Yeah?" He asks softly, a hand lifting to tuck some of your messy hair behind your ear.

"Yeah," you nod with a flutter of your eyes at his gentle touches, "the fact it was you was probably the main factor," you mumble dreamily against his neck when you rest your head on his shoulder, "but that was still the best dick I've ever had."

His heart swells infinitely. You were by far the best pussy he's ever had, but he didn’t think you would share such a thought. He should've known by now that if you are many things, predictable is not one of them.

You wrap your legs around his waist, nuzzling into his neck happily as his cock stays plugged inside of you, keeping his load intact and secure.

Jungkook's arms slink under your arms gently so he can pull you even closer, wrapping you around his chest (and his length) like a koala.

"This has been the greatest night of my entire life, Y/N." He whispers honestly against your cheek before pressing a soft kiss into the skin. "Thank you."

You hum contently, tilting your head up slightly to look at him with a pretty smile. "I love you, Gukkie."

"I love you, pretty." He replies, peppering your lips with another three quick kisses, smiling in satisfaction when another you give him another giggle.

You let the comfortable silence wrap you for a moment before breaking it. "Do we have any pasta left from dinner?"

The mention of dinner makes him think for a moment. He cooked pasta for the two of you, which you ate not long before coming into your room. You ate before sex. And you don’t look like you feel sick.

He gazes down at you, his smile broadening, heart fluttering. "'Course, I made heaps. Are you hungry?"

"Mhm."

"C'mon then," he says, giving your bum a gentle pat, ready to lift you off him and clean you up before feeding you.

"'nna minute..." You mumble sleepily against his neck, and he stops his movements, hands settling back to rub soothing strokes on your bum.

"You want me to carry you, don’t you?" he teases, suppressing a smirk as he feels you clench around him absentmindedly at him reading your thoughts.

"Noo...." your voice trails off, not even trying to conceal your lie. Jungkook chuckles softly, feeling your smile against his skin.

He makes sure he has a tight grip on you, and you him, before he carefully lifts both of you from the bed. He leads you into your ensuite, his long arm reaching out to snatch some toilet paper and a clean hand towel from your shelf as he gently places you on the sink counter.

Jungkook captures the liquid that seeps from your core with the paper as he slowly withdraws. He gives you a chuckly sorry when you wince a little, the thick head of his cock tugging at your walls as he retreats. He presses a sweet kiss to your lips to distract you and slips out with a final tug.

After discarding the used toilet paper, he dampens the towel with warm water and tenderly runs it over your core gently, pulling a pleased sigh from your lips.

Watching your best friend in awe through half-lidded eyes, he makes sure to thoroughly clean up the mess on and in your pussy before he half-heartedly uses the towel to wipe at his wet length.

He chucks the rag into the laundry hamper on the other side of the large bathroom. It lands directly in the basket from his athletic skills, and he turns to you with a cocky smirk.

You shake your head in amusement, "you're a loser."

"Don't talk to me like that, gonna get me hard again."

Your eyes widen in mock shock, before you giggle into his chest. "Knew you'd be into shit like degradation... Just had this feeling."

"Only with you though." It's cliché, but he means it.

You lift your head from his chest. "Only for me, huh?"

Jungkook nods, still standing between your legs as you look up at him from your bathroom counter. His gaze turns a little more serious. "Only yours."

Your head tilts as you blink up at the most gorgeous boy you've ever seen in your life. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Jungkook responds instantly and certainly. His thumbs tremble nervously against your thighs while he waits for your response, and they pull to a halt when you lean up to rest your mouth against his.

"Good," you murmur softly against his pouty lips, "because I'm all fucking yours."

END.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

thank you so much for reading. let me know what you think? love you <3

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sorryheartt · 1 month ago

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⋆. 𐙚 ˚ hand placement while making out . . . ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, suggestive, mentions of sex, hair pulling, marks and hickeys.

author note: hi!, this is my first time writing, english is not my first language so if any mistake please tell me. I accept requests!!

۶ৎ Mark - thighs ‹𝟹

Mark already likes your thighs, but when you're making out and you sit on his lap, he really loves it. The way you open your legs and have your thighs all for him? He goes crazy. He’s not much of a hips guy; instead, he keeps his hands firmly on your thighs—if you let him. Now imagine riding him… oh, he’s going to completely lose his mind.

۶ৎ Renjun - neck ‹𝟹

The way Renjun holds the back of your neck while he kisses you so deeply? Yeah, he’s insane for you and doesn’t even realize it. For him, your neck is like a masterpiece, his personal artwork. The number of marks and hickeys he can leave on you is uncountable. And later, he loves running his fingers over them and admiring his "work."

۶ৎ Jeno - back ‹𝟹

If you arch your back while he’s kissing you, Jeno will go feral. His pride will shoot through the roof seeing how much his girl is enjoying herself. He might not admit it, but he secretly loves it when you scratch his back while making out. You’re always worried about hurting him, but truth is—it drives him absolutely crazy.

۶ৎ Haechan - boobs ‹𝟹

Haechan? He doesn’t even try to hide it. His hands are always on your boobs, like they’re gloves made to keep his hands warm. Give him one kiss, and he’ll already have one hand on your chest. He loves how soft they are and how much his touch affects you. Honestly, it drives him wild.

۶ৎ Jaemin - hips ‹𝟹

For Jaemin, your hips don’t lie—and he loves it. Watching the way your hips move during a heated makeout session makes him obsessed. He loves placing his big hands on your hips, feeling your curves, and holding you close as you move. To him, it’s intoxicating.

۶ৎ Chenle - hair ‹𝟹

Chenle already loves playing with your hair, running his fingers through it, or gently scratching your scalp. But during a passionate makeout session? When he has his fingers tangled in your hair and accidentally pulls it, making you moan? He’ll lose all sense of control. Forget about his pride—he’s completely gone at that point.

۶ৎ Jisung - ass ‹𝟹

For Jisung, your ass is like the perfect stress ball—soft, addictive, and irresistible. Even while making out, he still asks for permission before touching it, and it’s because he respects you so much. But the moment you say yes? Imagine his hands all over you, squeezing and exploring. Yeah, he loves it—a lot.

strawberry silhouette by irene . . .

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roturo · 10 months ago

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₊˚ෆ FALSE GOD

warnings: masturbation, sex, smut, porn with no plot, unprocteted sex, overstimulation, use of toys, cunnilingus, mentions of low/high sex drive, dom/sub dynamics, shaming, humilliation, blue balls, edging, corruption kink, mentions of somnophilia, and twitter links. (Gojo, Geto & Nanami)

author's note: this is not a goodbye, but take it as a see you soon writing.

part 2 (coming soon if it’s well received)

gojo satoru

He's been annoying you the whole morning while trying to coach the kids on their training– slapping his hand away everytime it lowers down from your lower back and giving him a glaring look.

Both of you talked about this. Not letting his high sex drive come across work, and mostly in front of his students.He looked like a lost puppy, searching for attention and someone to relieve his needs.

“Gojo. Stop it–” You pushed his hand away from you, looking back to see if someone else noticed what’s going on. “But I can’t princess, I need you right now~” He whined in your ear, he was about to throw a tantrum if you continued neglecting him this way. It’s been two weeks without sex, can you believe it? Two weeks! He prefers fighting Mahito’s annoying ass again on his own rather than pass one day without inside you.

“It’s not the time right now– and I'm not in the mood either.”

Okay. First of all he knew you weren’t too into sex, and he accepted it! He respected your boundaries, and he didn’t only want you for the sex, he loved you for who you are! But the way you said his last name instead of his first name, and looking like you were about to slap him turned him on even more.

He wouldn’t stop whining and throwing tantrums for your touch, opting for dismissing the class early so they could go to sleep or wherever, it’s weekend anyways.

Both of you sat in silence in his office. Waiting for someone to break the tense silence thanks to him— and he was about to do it, but the moment your mouth opened his mind got in control of your sweet voice.

“Get up and take your pants off. Briefs too-” His eyes light up like a kid when receiving a lollipop for behaving like a good boy he is. He took off his shirt too, feeling like it was drowning him and taking the air out of him because this was the first time you were really taking control over all this.

“Sit.” He did as you said, his cock proudly standing tall and full of cum to dump wherever you wanted him too. But he wasn’t too lucky this time, because the moment you stepped closer to him and his desk, searching for one of his blindfolds he usually leaves there– you kneeled down infront of his, massaging his hard balls that made him moan out loud– taking them in one hand, they were heavy. His blindfold was around them, in a knot– tighten them.

The moment you started jerking off he knew he wouldn’t come as easy as he would. It was wet, really wet– and all thanks to his pre-cum leaving his cock, he was begging for release, he couldn’t come, literally and physically. It was impeding him from cumming, it felt ten times worse than not having your touch– He had it now, but at what cost?

“Aw, look at those blue balls!” You laughed in front of him and slightly slapped the red swollen head of his cock– he was crying, he never did. But it felt so good but it hurt so much at the same time. You took off the blindfold, cum coming out like a big wave, wetting his abdomen, part of his chest and your neck too. His moan almost sounded like a scream, cries and nervous laughs coming out of him– He came but you continued jerking him off, this time overstimulating him instead of edging him– He doesn’t know what was worse. Coherent words were long lost, babbling out trying to stop himself but he couldn’t move himself, way too lost in the pleasure to be able to stop you.

“Let’s see if you can atleast last a week without acting like a fucking horny virgin bitch this time mhm?, let’s make you cum again just to make sure, yeah?”

geto suguru

Geto is a morning wood guy. And he knows you have a low libido, actually Suguru is the only one you’ve sex with.

“I’m scared of dicks ´guru” You whispered, kneeled down in front of him, you were at his dorm, it was 11 P.M and you decided to lose your virginity to Geto assuring he’s the one and you’ve never felt safe in someone else’s arms– he chuckled and looked at you with loving eyes– one of his hands caressed your cheek, “How are you going to be afraid of dicks and want to suck me off at the same time princess? Mhm?”

He laughed at himself at the memory, now you were 6 years together and he’s eager to know how your life is going to be with him, having a wedding, getting a house together, making you pregnant… full of him, shit. This is not helping with the main problem right now.

He’s a decent man. At least that’s what he thinks about himself– he’s not horny all the time like Satoru. Maybe that’s his form of love language? Satoru is a weird ass anyways– he thinks to himself while scrunching his eyebrows together, –stop thinking about him Suguru!, it’s going to make you puke instead of helping the problem… He was looking at the ceiling of your room while you’re sleeping right beside him. He doesn’t want to wake you up, you deserve to have a nice and comfortable sleep.

But the pain down there is not going anywhere, not even with a cold shower. He knows to identify his morning woods– living with them for his whole life, I guess. Unconsciously one of his hands is now touching himself through his boxers making him moan, his free hand quickly covering his mouth and looking to his side to find you still sleeping.

He swears he’s about to slap himself to stop this and suck it up, but he feels your hand stopping him. “Are you okay baby?, I heard something and I thought you hurt yourself or something.”

Oh my god… How could you be so… pure? So perfect for him, always making sure he’s okay, your sleepy voice sounding deeper than your normal voice… His shirt is way too big for you that he swears if he moves his head a little higher he could see your nipples. Shit Suguru, you turned it sexual again!

Should he just… ask you? beg you? beg and cry for some release? Would he sound as horny as a teenager? This problem should be for teenagers! Not for a grown ass man like him!

“Um… I might just had a little problem down there”

“Might? Little?”

His flushed face was cute, his body was fully uncovered by the blankets, leaving him with his chest exposed and a clear wet patch on his boxers.

“C’mon baby, let me help you” He called out your name, trying to stop you the moment you placed your hand on the elastic of his underwear— in one swift motion you freed his cock, catching a glance of how swollen it was due the negligence of the past weeks.

The moment Suguru felt the cold breeze on him, he came.

He fucking came with no touch.

Damn embarrassing.

“Aw, cute. Want me to suck you off?”

nanami kento

You haven’t rushed things with Nanami yet. Both of you were such a cute couple that made people gag.

He’s amazing, not like any other boys you have met before, he treated you nice, spoiled you and mostly respected you– in a world of boys, he’s a gentleman.

He’s such a hard working guy, such an inspiration, so committed to both of his works that you tell him if you ever get married you’ll be the best housewife he could ever have because he deserves it.

But one thing about Nanami is that he keeps things to himself. Just like the boner he has right now by imagining you being his little housewife. He really needs to leave this office right now and relieve some… stress.

The last weeks have been hard for him, naturally affecting your relationship with him. He was always tired, even more earnest and quiet. You know he’s bad at telling what he feels, and he’s always stressed by something– but you have never seen him like this. Like ever.

When he tries to distress himself he just keeps failing over and over again, not being enough and having to suck it up and continue his day with a hard poking erection most likely visible in his pants. That’s why he remains seated most of the time.

But one day he went to your house after work. It was impossible to not notice his erection even when he’s trying to hide with his briefcase or on the sofa.

“Take your pants off Kento.” You’re not a big fan of sex, Nanami knows that, he hasn’t even had sex with you before! So this caught him by surprise, the red on his cheeks spanding through his neck.

“E-excuse me? I’m sorry, what honey?”

“You heard me, take your pants off.” He’s seated on your sofa– unloosened tie, two or three bottoms of his shirt undone, messy hair, in his socks but that damn thing was literally capable of breaking his pants if it didn’t have some release.

He slowly started unbuckling his pants, losing his mental battle and accepting what he needed, and if you were willing to do it, all he could do is take it– but dear god, it was even worse.

All you would do is touch him. Through his briefs. Just the feeling of your fingers through them. Touching the tip was the worst part.

And he couldn’t believe that the most simple touch is capable of making him cum with just your fingers than him raming and jerking off the hardest he has ever tried.

#gojo satoru smut #geto suguru smut #nanami kento smut #gojo smut #geto smut #nanami smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo x reader #geto x reader #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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meowzfordayz · 1 year ago

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revealing outfit prank — hashira men

Author’s Note: borderline 18+NSFW, but ~mostly just suggestive. 😉

revealing outfit prank — hashira men

Himejima Gyomei x Reader, Iguro Obanai x Reader, Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader, Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader, Tomioka Giyuu x Reader, Uzui Tengen x Reader

Word Count: ~2,000

CW: explicit language, Fem!Reader, mild sexual content

Suggestion Fulfilled: You know those girlfriend pranks on YouTube where the girl wears a sexy/revealing outfit to out in? Can I have HCs of our Hashira with a S/O who tries to walk out in such an outfit? Of course, they respect her choice in wearing whatever she wants, but that outfit is too tempting...

~faqs~

“Hey babe, guess what I’m wearing!”

“Clothes…”

—I mean, he’s not wrong 🙃

You huff, “Guess again.”

Gyomei pauses, wracking his brain for whatever else you could have on

“... not, clothes?” 🤨

“Well I’m not going out to dinner naked!”

“A cardboard box?” 😅

You can see his brow furrowing

He’s trying his best! 🥺

“So remember that slip dress I was describing for you a while ago?” 😏

His face warms as he recalls how you’d painted quite the picture of dainty ribbon details, an open back, and a satin hem that would barely brush past your thighs

He clears his throat, voice lower than before, “I remember that I encouraged you to buy it.”

He freezes, eyes widening, gaze focusing in the direction of your soft breaths, “You’re wearing it?!!!”

You giggle, he gulps

You can hear his inward groan 😩

“Isn’t it exciting?!” you squeal, stepping toward him, playful palms splaying across his chest as you grin up at his restrained expression, “I feel so pretty!” 😌

“You are so pretty,” he nearly growls, large hands settling promptly on your hips, “Maybe we shouldn’t go out after all.”

“Oh?” 👀

He chuckles as his fingers caress the silky, smooth fabric hugging your body, sensing the heat emanating from your bare, warm skin, eager to feel the curve and seduction of your spine, your shoulder blades, the tenderness of your nape

“I beg your pardon,” he rasps, an unfamiliar darkness in his tone as his fingers move upward to tug at your carefully tied spaghetti straps, tiny bows squished beneath the intensity of his touch, “I’m an adult, you know. I can have dessert for dinner.”

😳🥵🫠

—

“Gyomeeeiii!”

“My love?” ☺️

“I CAN’T POST THIS!” 😭😭😭

“And why not? Is my rizz too much for YouTube?”

“YES.” 😐

“You’re going out in that?” 🧐

You glare back, arms crossing over your chest

A not so subtle attempt to emphasize your tits 😌

Obanai not so subtly glances downward

“I repeat, in that?”

“The hell is wrong with what I’m wearing?” you scowl haughtily, “I thought you’d like it!” 😞

Blinking in disbelief, Obanai rolls his eyes, amusement softening his judgmental expression 🙄

“I’m not a fucking idiot,” he grumbles, “Of course I love it,” glare returning as he points an accusing finger at you, “But the last time you went out in something like that you ended up stealing all of my layers because you got cold!”

“Well then wear more layers!” you quip cheekily

“That’s my line!” 😐

*sigh*

“Do you want me to change?” 😕

“Absolutely not!” he snaps, ears reddening even as he makes a disgruntled gesture, “But, please, grab a coat.”

“Are you fed up with me?” 🤗

You inch closer to him

His breath hitches

“No.”

“Are you suuure?”

You can hear his heartbeat now, can see the restraint in his hands as he keeps them firmly by his sides

“If we don’t leave soon, then I’ll show you how not fed up with you I am.” 🙃

You grin easily, lips grazing his earlobe as you murmur

“Obanai, I don’t think that was nearly as threatening as you hoped it was.”

He inhales sharply, stepping away from your sweet, sultry scent, feigning sullenness when he mutters

“Your tits are staring at me.” 😃

You laugh, bouncing on the balls of your feet just enough for them to jiggle slightly

“Or are you staring at my tits?” 😉

He audibly groans, head tilting backward as he averts his gaze

“I hate this.” 😒

—

Rest assured, you never make it to your reservation 🤫

The video never makes it to YouTube either

PornHub, however…

Jk, jk

And Obanai does not hate this 😏

“You are breathtaking!” Kyojuro declares, beaming with pride as you twirl for him

He’s doing his best to ignore the fact that he can see your lacey panties when you spin

“Thank you!” you smile, striking a pose for him, “I feel so amazing in this dress.”

“You are amazing in any dress!” 😁

He’s earnest with the perfect dash of seriousness — like he needs to know that you know you’re beautiful

A gentleman as always 🥺

You hesitate, feeling almost guilty as you ask slowly

“Am I only amazing?” 🤭

You hope you’re coming off coy and alluring 😅

For all of his awkwardness, Kyojuro is nothing if not straightforward

“You are also sexy! Most definitely sexy!” 😍

Your expression cracks, your giggling filling the hallway as endeared laughter accompanies you

“How sexy?” you wink, an exaggerated, playful flirtation

Fortunately, Kyojuro loves improv 😏

—Yes, and!

“The sexiest woman I have known, I know, and I will know.”

There he goes again

Earnest, serious, and almost unbearingly sweet 😭💘

“Kyo,” you persist, “I’m trying to seduce you.”

He grins at that, eyes narrowing so quickly you nearly miss the tantalizing glint that flashes through them

“Oh I am aware, sweetheart,” he purrs, gesturing with his index finger for you to twirl again

You do, oblivious to the way his jaw clenches, gaze thickens, your pretty, dainty panties on display for him once more

“Look at me,” he commands softly, relishing the dazed, dizzy, glowing color of your face, “Look at me, and tell me whether you have succeeded.”

You look

It’s impossible to miss his erection, straining against his pants, bulge teasing and beckoning you to come closer

—

You post the video, minus a sizeable chunk 😶

“So people are allowed to thirst over you, but not me?” ☹️

You snort as Kyojuro pouts, patting his arm consolingly, “You can’t really see anything when I’m spinning, but your dick is a little too obvious.”

He perks up at that, kissing your cheek with reassured confidence, “It is quite large.”

—Whatever makes him feel better, y’know 😆

—That being said, it is quite large 🫣

P.S. Kyojuro begs to differ; he can see plenty when you’re spinning 😃

Help this man 😵‍💫

He is TIRED 😮‍💨

—Don’t get me wrong!

Sanemi does his best to be a good sport 🥺

And he’s 1,000% watched your videos in “secret”, numerous times over; you are entertaining ☺️

On nights when you’re apart, he falls asleep to his Favorites list (which consists solely of you) on auto-play

But there’re just one (thousand) too many trends for him to keep up with, and he never knows when he’s going to be your ~victim again 🙃

“Is this another prank?” he sighs, only slightly exasperated as his eyes stray from your pretty mouth to your tits practically spilling from your top 🫣

“Oh, so now I can’t look nice without it being a prank?” you retort, scowling playfully, “Rude.” Raising his hands in mock defense, Sanemi smiles softly as you step closer to him

“You can touch me, y’know,” you murmur gently, “I’m not gonna break.”

Swallowing thickly, he lowers his arms, forearms hooking around your hips as he pulls you in

“Yeah,” he croaks, scanning the bedroom for wherever you might’ve hid your phone, desperation and desire bubbling in his throat, “But I’m not so sure about your outfit, it’s got so many strings and… and, holes.” 😃

You laugh cheerfully, squeezing his waist as you inform him, “They’re cutouts. They’re supposed to be sexy.” 😌

“They are,” he replies bluntly, stifling a long inhale as he willingly gives into his fate, “You are so fucking sexy.”

He’s already plucking at your shoulder straps, somehow boxing you in with his broad, chiseled body, even though it’s his back against the wall

“You’re not gonna ask me how I manage to avoid getting tangled?” you tease, your breasts pressed firm and warm into his chest as his heartbeat quickens

The question had occurred to him, but-

“Why the hell would I ask that when I could be untangling you instead?”

—

“Send me the video.” 😐

“Excuse me?”

You’re grinning

“Please.” 😞

He’s begging

You acquiesce, the thought of Sanemi jerking off to it later inspiring you to reach down again 😉

(Now imagine his faintly pained moan as you slowly caress him, valiantly hardening in your careful grip as he mentally prepares himself, this time intending to punish you; you can’t keep missing your reservations! 😤)

#the pranks are getting out of hand 😬

#but Sanemi can’t really find it in himself to be bothered 😶

#at least not when he’s already in something else 😏

“Why are you going out in that?” 🤨

“What are you implying?” you frown

“I asked first.”

You huff, “And your question offended me.” 😒

Grimacing, Giyuu glances downward, “I didn’t mean-”

“Do I look horrible?” ☹️

You almost feel badly, giggles brimming in your chest 🤭

“No.”

“Do I look too good?” 😌

You can practically see the gears turning in his head

“Yes? No. Yes. Wait. I’m confused.” 🫠

“How does my outfit make you feel?” 😉

He pauses at that, swallowing nervously as you run teasing hands up your sides, accentuating your hips and bust

“I look good, right?” 🥺

“Of course.”

“Do I look too good?” 😏

*Giyuu Panic 2.0 activated*

“What does that mean?” 😭

He’s hushed, in awe of your luscious form, inhaling roughly when you step into his immediate proximity, the hem of your dress nearly brushing against his shins as you twirl for him

“Giyuu, am I turning you on?”

When in doubt, go for frankness

*Giyuu Panic 2.0 deactivated*

Ohhh 😳🙄😎 <— he gets it now

“Not at all,” he says smoothly, “You look quite comfortable.”

You pout, fingers curling into the collar of his shirt as you nudge his feet apart, slipping your leg between his thighs as you close the distance, your body pressing clumsy and hot against his

He sighs, a quiet, enraptured sound, delicately brushing the straps of your dress from your shoulders before he rasps, “I am turned on. Delightfully so.”

Your dress crumples sheer and light to the floor, Giyuu’s jaw ticking with desire as he realizes just how easily it slipped off

“And you,” he murmurs, delicious warning in his tone as he thumbs the undersides of your tits, “Are such a pretty slut.”

—

“Why is it that every time I try and prank you, you end up fucking me instead?” 🥲

“Hm,” Giyuu hums, voice thick with amusement, “Seems premeditated to me.” 🥴

“Giyuu-!” you sputter 🫣

“GiYuU!” he smirks 🙃

“Are you mocking me?” 😠

“And?” he grins 😎

“See if I ever prank you again!” 😤

“Oh you will,” he remarks, nonchalant and cool, “Judging by how many times we changed the sheets yesterday, I’m not even worried.” 😃

Ngl, Tengen’s a lil desensitized 😆

He’s got four wives

He knows you’re all hot af 😉

He knows he’s hot af 😎

There’s not much you can do to faze him

Except like, get injured or something, but that’s kinda the opposite of what you’re aiming for 🥴

“Does this mean we’re fucking after dinner?”

✨He has a way with words✨

“Tengen,” Hina scolds

“So vulgar!” Suma exclaims

“Don’t act so innocent when you’ve ambushed me looking like that,” Tengen mutters, pants already tightening as he takes in the silken fabric draped delicate and precarious over your breasts, “Who’s idea was this?”

“Whose do you think?” Makio snorts

“Tengen,” you say breezily, reaching out to grasp his hand, stroking a coy, tender thumb across his knuckles, “Let’s go, we’re going to be late.”

“Obviously,” he grunts, eyes shining with appreciation—a welcomed promise—as he raises your palm to his lips, kissing your fingertips one by one, “We’re not leaving.”

—

“Hold up, you made two reservations?” Tengen shrieks

Your eyes roll as if to say Duh, already rummaging for a new dress while Suma helps pat Makio’s back dry, steam from the attached bathroom wafting into the bedroom

“She’s always prepared,” Hina chirps proudly, kissing your jaw with a fond smile

“That, and Tengen’s always horny,” you smirk

You don’t really have a video suitable for YouTube 😅, but you do post Before/After photos of the ~prank on Instagram with a cheeky Unfortunately, the “During” photos are NSFW 😏🫢🍑🍆 caption

#hashira x reader #headcanons #modern au #demon slayer smut #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #himejima gyomei #gyomei x reader #iguro obanai #obanai x reader #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro x reader #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi x reader #tomioka giyuu #giyuu x reader #uzui tengen #tengen x reader

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satowooo · 8 months ago

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i. imgonnagetyouback

The one and only son of the Gojo clan had fallen quite hard, completely and utterly, to a lowly woman who came from the dirt, and got his heart broken by her. Years had passed, he was still as angry since the day you left, but he only wanted you back.

contents. modern au, gojo satoru x reader, angst, not proofread.

Whether I'm gonna curse you out or take you back to my house, I haven't decided yet but I'm gonna get you back

next chapter

It was pathetic. The sight of Gojo Satoru, a well-respected son of the Gojo clan, was down on his knees right in front of you, begging you to stay, a daughter of a mere servant.

It made him look pitiful and weak, a miserable prince who had his heart shattered by a low class woman like you. But he didn't really give it that much of a thought, ever since he first laid eyes on you. He didn't care what people might've said from the very first time, and he proved it to you a million times as he stubbornly and desperately showed you how much he loves and adores you. So, begging down on his knees is not that much of a deal now, no?

“Stand up, please.”

But you were firm, closing your eyes as you let out a shaky breath. You hated seeing him like this, but you were left with no other choice. Your love for him could risk even the dangers of your life, and you were sacrificing him to save him.

“I do not wish to be with you any longer, Young Master.” You said, uttering his title in a whisper. “What we had was wrong. It was a mistake on my side. And I thought I was in love with you, but it was just a pathetic infatuation and I realised that another man best suits me, and it's not you.”

Your words were nonstop, every single thing that you uttered was shattering his heart into pieces. But Satoru furiously shakes his head, his hands trembling on your lap as his forehead falls on your knees.

“T-that’s not… T-that's not true…”

You remembered everything from that day. Every little detail, every word, every touch, every action, of what had happened stayed forever in your mind. It never fails to shatter you. To make you cry every single time that you thought about him as you lie in the confinements of your small room.

“I have done what you asked for. What else do I need to do–” A whimper escaped your lips as a hand flew over your cheek. Breathing heavily, you felt the sting on your skin as you looked back at the person who had been the cause of your pain.

“Pack your things, and never show your face again.”

Gojo Satoru haunted your dreams and nightmares. He managed his way in your heart, and refused to leave. He was the ghost of your tragic love story, you could only wish that you never should've picked up the pen. It's already been two years since you left, and even until now, your heart only beats for one man and it will always be for Satoru.

So what are you going to do when he comes up at your door, claiming what used to be his?

It all happened so fast that your head can't fathom how you ended back to the place of your nightmares. The Gojo clan's mansion. The place where it all started between the two of you.

Every corner of this place was filled with memories of you and Satoru, all the good and bad. But what you remembered most was the torture, the consequences you had faced for falling in love. You felt like all your scars were slowly tearing apart, opening the wound that was almost healed as you looked back to the man who stood in front of you.

You never should've been back in this place.

“I expect you to work immediately.” Satoru's voice was different. It was laced with authority and demand, not the sweet ones that you remember back when he was yours. “Remember, your family is in the palm of my hands. Try to escape, and you'll face the consequences.”

His eyes looked at you with anger, a pent up emotion that he bottled up all these years. His hands were balled on a fist by his sides, almost trembling, but he wouldn't let you see just how much you still have an effect on him.

Right now, all he feels is anger and hatred for what you did. For leaving him. For running off with another man. For loving him only to break his heart. For letting him hold on to your empty promises.

For those two years, he only loathed you and he's not going to be a forgiving man, he'll make sure you regret. He'll make you beg on his knees, the way he did for you.

“I expect you to be in my office in five.”

Now, you're back to square one. Working as his maid was already bad enough back then, so what's going to happen now that you're back to serve him again?

You can't help but notice how much he changed. Somehow, you can tell that he was still the same, only that he was only mad at you. It was obvious already how he's showing indifference only to you but not to anyone else. His bubbly personality that used to welcome you with warm embraces is now replaced with an angry demeanour of a man who cold-heartedly took you away from your family and took you back to the house where you suffered.

How unfair.

This was not your Satoru.

As soon as Satoru turned around and left you standing, he heaved out a breath that he didn't know he was holding. His heart felt like it was trying to escape from his chest. For the first time since you left, he finally felt his heart beating again.

All throughout those years that you were gone, he relentlessly looked for you. Trying to search your face in unfamiliar places, sometimes getting himself into trouble when he mistakes someone for you. Everyday, he was turning angrier and angrier when you never showed up, while all he needed was proper answers and explanations. He hated all the memory that you had left, and how it tore him to pieces that all of it was just a lie.

He couldn't believe you had the nerve. A woman like you with no name for herself, telling him that a relationship with him was just a mistake as you sought another man. Gojo Satoru was everything anyone could have asked for, so how dare a woman like you? How dare a woman he loved…

Everything comes crashing down into his mind once again. From the first time he saw you and how you've caught his eye. His heart starts to beat frantically, his breath caught into his chest, his tongue tied together. Satoru slumps into his chair as he closes his eyes, letting the memory sink in.

“Who is that woman?” Satoru asked an older servant, seeing your unfamiliar face walking around the garden in a maid uniform as he stared down at you from his window.

“That's [M/L/N]’s daughter. She's here to take her place while her mother is recovering.” The servant answered as she poured him tea.

Satoru watched as you walked quietly, your movements looked calculated and careful. He watched your finger touch a ragged cloth, gracefully cleaning the dirty tables.

From afar, he can see how your skin looked soft and pale. You were a bit thin and looked weak. He can only assume that he could break you with one twist.

Your face didn't have any emotion in it which intrigued him. Even your lips were downturned, like you hated every second of working in his place. You caught his attention in a matter of seconds, a curiosity growing inside him while he watched your every move.

He noticed the way your mood changed when his family's dog, a small golden retriever, came running to you. A smile formed into your face and he swore he could feel all the flowers blooming all around the place. Everything seemed to have lighted up, his heart began to drum in his chest as you kneeled down to the dog, petting and rubbing the cute animal between your hands.

What's so fascinating about you?

He swallowed hard. Satoru felt like a teenage boy realising that he was staring a little too hard. He felt like a stalker for watching you, shivering at his thoughts.

But he wanted to meet you. Something was pulling him to be close to your presence. A magnetic force was drawing him to come near, and it was the very first time that he ever felt like this.

But he'll take his time first. For now, he's going to settle on just watching you from afar, memorising every detail of you, until he is ready.

A knock on the door woke Satoru back to his senses. He straightened up on his seat, erasing the memories out of his head as he coughed. “Come in.”

But how can Satoru completely forget?

You walked inside in your maid uniform, the same dress that you used to wear, and it only took Satoru a matter of seconds for all your pasts to remind him of how much he loved you. He felt a pain in his chest, and for a moment, he wanted to fall back on his knees and beg for you to love him again. But even you had changed.

Satoru was also back to square one. He looks at you, reminded of the first time he had seen your face. The lack of emotion, the frown, the gaze that used to intimidate him, and the wall you had built between the two of you was palpable.

“Take a seat.” Satoru gestured over the chair in front of his table.

He watched you carefully as you stepped inside his office, striding forward with a sense of hurry as you obviously refused to seat. You stood in front of him, an emotion in your eyes that he can't seem to read.

“I have to get back to my family–”

“They are fine.” Satoru immediately cut you off, his voice ringing over your ear. He looked at you with a glare, venom laced in his voice as he says, “You are bound to stay here, as I said so–”

“You can't keep me here!”

Your scream shocked the both of you, but Satoru kept a straight face as he stood up slowly. He chuckled with malice, staring at your helpless state.

“What makes you say that I can't?” He smirked. “I own you now. Every single thing that's yours is also mine, even your family.”

Your eyes fell to the floor, your hands trembling at your side. Your knees felt weak underneath his gaze, burning and crushing your soul.

Everything he said was true. You were in so much debt ever since you left the Gojo mansion, your family almost falling apart if he didn't show up to take you. And now he's claiming every single bit of what's yours, not leaving a single piece behind.

Satoru made it clear when he took you here. He'll pay for everything to save you and your family. Your mother's hospital bill, your father's gambling debts, your brother's education, their food, house, electricity, and all their livings, because you couldn't pay them off by yourself.

So now you're trapped. He's got you wrapped around his fingers.

“You need me, Y/N.” You closed your eyes at his voice, shaking your head in denial. “You can't afford to live without me, and that's the truth.”

It was the truth, Satoru taking her away from her old life.

You were doing just fine when he was gone. But now you don't know anymore.

this is the part 1 of my mini (?) gojo series! i hope you'd like it and anticipate for what's next to come 🥺🫶🏻 [M/L/N] also stand for "mother's last name" in case you didn't knowww ^.^ I also hoped you understood the flashbacks and such.

this is just a prologue of the main story, sooo the real story starts at part 2.

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luvyeni · 2 months ago

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MÉNAGE À TROIS ,, 钟辰乐 & 박지성

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ jisung walks in on you and chenle having sex … and you both don’t mind ヾ

boyfriend!钟辰乐・ FEM!reader ・ ‎ 박지성 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ wc ・ ‎2.4k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

𓂃 🎞️ content warning . . . threesome, unprotected sex, oral ( M ), mxm themes, mxf themes, no real dom or sub themes, jisung could be seen as a sub, alludes to poly relationship

request. hello!! could you maybe write some smut where chenle is fucking yn and all of a sudden jisung enters their apartment and yn is like “i don’t care keep going” and eventually jisung finds them both and is invited to join

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 i finished it , i hope you like it 🫶🏾✨

you didn’t even hear the door close; chenle on the other hand was always hyper aware of everything, even when he was balls deep inside you. “oh-oh fuck baby, fuck.” he struggled to get the words out. “fuck the door just opened , jisung is home.” he said in between moans. “fuck be quiet so he won’t hear.”

you and chenle started out as friends; along with jisung — you three were a threesome who eventually moved in together. about a year into moving in together you and chenle entered a relationship, but you two never left jisung out; you guys did everything together still, but he still gave you two private time. “he’s gonna hear.”

you wrapped your legs around the man’s waist , keeping him from pulling out. “fuck i don’t care , keep going.” you moaned. “let him hear , don’t stop fucking me please.” you could feel the man above you twitching inside you. “fuck you want him to hear?” chenle said. he knew about the little infatuation you held with the younger boy, he knew you’d never cheat on him, but hearing you say this made him wonder how many times have you moaned a little bit too loud just for the boys amusement. “fucking slut.”

he grabbed your legs, almost folding them in half. “you want him to hear me fucking you?” he groaned. “give him some material to jerk off to?” him saying that affected himself more than you, the thought of his best friend stroking his cock to the thought of you two fucking. “sh-shit.” he cursed , you smirked. “se-seems like you want him to hear you as well.” that earned a slap to your cunt. “fucking slut shut up, gonna cum in this pussy , let him hear you cum.”

jisung on the other hand, he was unaware — his headphones shielding him from the outside noises. he was supposed to be working tonight, but his shift was cut short and all his other friends were busy so he was forced to come home. he didn’t mind being home, he loved it there, but he couldn’t help but feel like a third wheel sometimes. often left out of plans and having to make plans so you two can have private time. no you two never forced him to do that , but he could just tell when you wanted to be alone as a couple, and you did always try to include him in everything but you two were a couple and he didn’t just want to be there on obligation.

so maybe it was all in his head, but that was him. was he jealous of you two? no, he was happy his two bestest friends found love in each other — maybe he wished he could find something like that… or be a part of the original.

jisung never really struggled with his sexuality; he always knew he liked girls, that was a fact. but he also felt that small attraction to the same sex, there’s only so many times he can pop a boner at the gym sauna when looking at a naked guy before you just came to terms with it and jisung had.

did he find you both attractive? yes he was; but, out of respect for the both of you and your friendships he didn’t say anything… even if he did sometimes hear you two going at it — biting down on his shirt as he fisted his cock to the sounds of both of you moaning. the post nut clarity always left him disgusted with himself, unable to look both of you in his eye the next morning feeling like a pervert.

he was always successful in never walking in on you both; that would have been so awkward, especially if you both happened to lower your eyes and notice his hard on, but he was soon about to mess up that streak all because of those stupid noise blocking headphones you bought out of guilt. “chenle fuck im gonna cum!”

chenle was still plowing into you. “cum slut.” the knots in your stomach tightening, gripping the sheets. “fuck im gonna cum too.” both of you moaning, ready to cum. “oh fuck!” the door came swinging open, right as you both hit your highs. “shit chenle im cumming!”

jisung stood there, he couldn’t hear what just happened— but the visual he was given, your eyes rolling and his other male counterparts head rolling back, he could tell what just happened… and he was mortified. “oh my god, i'm so sorry.”

the two of you didn’t even notice him, until he said something. chenle smirked down at you hearing the boy's voice, his head turning around to face his friend. “i see those headphones work.” he said. “unless you wanted to walk in just as we were cumming together.”

he snatched the headphones off his head. “no-no i swear i didn’t hear anything and the door was open so i thought– chenle leave him alone.” you ran your fingers through your hair. “what? he’s the one still standing there watching like a perv while im still inside you.” you boyfriend said. “yeah and your cock is harder than before with this knowledge, so his company doesn’t seem to bother you.”

jisung couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “i-im sorry, i swear i’ll leave you alone, i have these.” he nervously held the headphones, praying to whoever above you both didn’t notice his hard on. “why just so you can go in your room and jerk off , only to ignore us the next morning?” that made his cock twitch. “n-no im- jesus chen , spare him at least if you’re not gonna give him head.” the younger boy's eyes widened. “huh?”

“do you want me to suck you off?” chenle asked ever so nonchalantly, jisung was speechless. “of course he does, he’s been standing there with a hard on for a minute.” you smirked, eyes traveling down to his pants, he tried to cover it up. “i-i don’t know what to say.” he couldn’t tell if you two were playing with him. “well if he’s good at sucking dick like he is at eating pussy, i’d say yes.” you tapped chenle, signaling him to pull out.

you got up from the bed; making your way over to the boy; he felt like he was in a dream, he walked in on his friends fucking, now his fully nude best friend was guiding him to the bed were he was about to get head from his other friend. “sit down.” you pushed him down against the bed.

chenle sat back on his legs, watching you unbuckle another man’s pants; his eyes traveled to his friends cock popping out from his jeans; he’d seen it in his sweats, and he accidentally walked in on him numerous times, but it looked much bigger when he was hard. “think you can fit him in your mouth?” you asked your boyfriend, that made jisung groan. “this coming from mrs.i can’t give a blow job to save my life.” you scoffed. “remember that when you’re begging me to give you head… again.”

you two put your playful banter aside for the boy who still was pale as a ghost. “don’t be nervous.” you kissed his neck. “we’ll take care of you.” you sucked little hickeys down his neck. “don’t we always?” you bit down gently on his ear. “ye-yeah.” jisung stuttered. “you look like you’re about to cum already.” chenle wrapped his hands around the younger boy's cock. “fu-fuck.” he moaned as he began to stroke him, jisung prayed he didn’t cum soon. “are you really that sensitive?”

chenle pushed the boys legs open further, bring his lips down to his cock blowing in the boys tip making his hips buck. “fuck please.” jisung whimpered. “fuck.” his head was thrown back as his friend lowered his head down on his cock. “oh my god.” you smirked. “feel good?” jisung nodded.

chenle bobbed his head up and down on jisungs length, the tip of his friends cock kissing the back of his throat. “come here.” you grabbed the boys cheeks. “so cute.” you brought his lips against yours, taking his hands, bringing it down to your boobs; down your stomach and in between your legs. he moaned against your mouth feeling your wetness on his fingers, he often thought about doing this while he jerked himself off.

you pulled away he moaned as chenle sucked harder on his cock. “fu-fuck you’re so wet.” he moved his fingers up and down your slit. “fu-fuck ji.” you moaned. “put them in.” he pushed his slender finger past your hole. “shit.” you moaned as he curled his finger inside you. “you’re fucking good at that, gonna make me cum.”

jisung could already feel his orgasm approaching as well. “ch-chenle.” the older boy's cock jumped hearing the boy moan his name like that, it encouraged him to go faster. “oh wait fuck!” he groaned, he tried to stop the boy but you were currently riding his fingers and his other just wouldn’t cut it. “fuck im cumming!” you screamed just as the younger boy's head tipped back as his orgasm took over. “fuck!”

chenle pulled off the boy's cock, just in time because the boy was shooting sticky cum from his cock almost immediately, he jerked the boy off pulling more cum from him. “fuck look at both of you.” chenle said, his voice a little sore. “so fucked up, im glad you two got what you wanted im still fucking hard.”

jisung pulled his fingers out of you, your orgasm dripping down his hand. “don’t let it go to waste, taste it.” chenle ordered, jisung brought his fingers to his lips, wrapping his lips around. “taste like fucking candy doesn’t she?” he hummed. “next time you can taste it straight from the source.” chenle said. “right now i need to fuck or be fucked by either one of you.”

“how about you both fuck me this time and then next time we switch?” this was the second time jisung had heard next time and he wasn’t mad at it — he doesn’t think he’d be able to fuck anyone after this experience again. “of course you say that always ready to be fucked.” chenle scoffed. “ji lay down and you in his lap then, you wanna be fuck by both of us? fine.” chenle slapped your ass watching you climb on top of the boy. “look how wet you made her ji, fucking dripping on your cock.”

chenle wrapped his hand around jisungs cock once again, holding it as you sunk down on it. “oh fuck.” jisung let out a whimper like moan. “shes fucking tight ain’t she?” jisung nodded. “so-so fucking tight.” you moaned out feeling chenles finger enter your hole. “about to stretch this pussy past her limits.” he groaned, stroking his cock. “show jisung how good this messy cunt is.”

he removed his finger, replacing it with his cock. “chenle!” you screamed, feeling him pushing his cock inside you. “shit.” jisung moved, feeling his friend's cock brushing against his, both of them trapped together in the wonder that is your cunt, squeezing them like a vice. “my god this feels good.” you moaned, moving your hips yourself. “look at you, so impatient -fuck- such a damn slut.”

he slapped your ass; watching it recoil. “re-really putting on a show for our boy here aren’t you.” you smiled down at the younger boy moaning. “fu-fuck yeah, how will i get him stay.”

jisung moaned, hearing you boy talk about him like that. “yeah that’s your -fuck- that’s your goal, fucking him so good he stays?” you nodded, chenle grabbed your hips. “well then let me help put in some work, give him an even better reason.” he began to speed up, jisung hips bucked unintentionally , the feeling of your cunt tightening around his cock, paired with his friend's cock rubbing against his. “sh-shit i love this so much.” jisung groaned. “so fucking much.”

the room was smoldering hot; sweat dripping down from each of you, your skin slapping against each other — all three of you moaning. you were the first one to cum , your body shaking as you came with a loud porn like scream. “shit.” chenle moaned our feeling your cunt convulse around him. “fuck im gonna cum, gonna fucking cum inside you.” he moaned, cock twitch as spurts of white shot inside you.

jisung was last to cum, you held his face in your hand. “im gonna cum.” he said. “i-i need to pull out.” he groaned. “no don't, please don't pull out.” jisung looked to chenle , who was still inside you. “fu-fuck you heard her, she wants to be used as a cum dump, then do what she wants…” chenle said. “cum inside her.”

that’s all jisung needed before he was cumming. “oh fuck!” he moaned, cumming. your eyes were fucked out as you laid against the boys chest. “we fucked her dumb ji , she gets real mushy afterwards.” chenle pulled out, watching the cum spill from your cunt. “sh-shut up.”

“get up.” chenle playfully slapped your ass. “chenle stop.” jisung found a small bit of comfort in how playful you two were afterwards, it wasn’t awkward at all. “jisung just twitched inside me.” you teased the younger boy. “did seeing him do that make you feel something?” his face turned an even deeper red. “you’re gonna have to stop being so timid if you want to continue this.” chenle said.

“this?” he said, he never thought it would go further than maybe once or twice — three times if he prayed hard enough. “you think i would’ve put your cock in my mouth if i didn’t plan on having you do the same to me eventually?” you chuckled seeing the boy's face. “chenle you have to lean slowly into that , not everyone likes giving head.”

“ji ji , let’s go shower.” you stood up, holding your hand out. “you want to shower with me?” you nodded. “chenle hates showering with me.” the older boy rolled his eyes. “because you keep the water temperature at hell, so no i don’t like seeing my skin steaming as it cooks me from the inside.” he grumbled. “both of you go shower and i’ll change the sheets , and order some food.”

jisung took your hand and you guided him to the bathroom. “come.” you called him over once you reached the bathroom. “if you can be quiet then i’ll show that chenle is just being a dick when he said i can’t give head , i just like to withhold it from him to piss him off.” jisung felt like he was in heaven.

chenle on the other hand was still grumbling as he fixed the bedsheets. “this is crazy.” he said to himself. “I found two people who hate giving head , but love getting head.”

he still couldn’t help but smile though…

©️LUVYENI

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casinocarpediem · 10 months ago

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▪︎■☆ Новое Mолоко 🐮🥛 ☆■▪︎

(Translation: New Milk)

☆ 🔞!!NOT SAFE FOR WORK!!🔞

☆ male! subtop! Francis Mosses / male! dombottom! Reader

☆ overstimulation if ya squint a lil, milking, breeding, dumbification, passing out, belly bulge (If your not into this, look away!! 👻👻)

☆ implied Russian speaking Francis (translated from google translate and research for needed accuracy, however, any form of critique or correction definetely is allowed!)

☆ short (I think???)

☆ author has played Not My Neighbor

°○☆nsfw under the cut☆○°

You and Francis had a thing. And, fuck, for a minimum wage worker who barely gets any kind of rest at all, he's fucking good at what he does. He's a big fan of milking. Not his job, no, he could rant about how shitty it can be despite not wanting to get a new one (A/N: so real) but he's a fan of milking. Just the other kind of milking.

The first tim you two had sex, he was pretty sheepish about it, yeah. He didn't know if you prefered topping or bottoming so he settled for a handjob. You did the same as well. Until you both got used to each other and realized that he was pretty flexible. He'd do whatever you'd want to do, whatever you had in store, as long as if it wasn't too much for either of you. He loves fucking but he surely isn't a sex devient. Somewhere in the middle. Pliant to whatever you to had planned. But recently, he may or may not have discovered a new kink. Somethig that made his legs flex and his stamina increase and the gooey, warm, and fuzzy gears in his head grind back to life to keep on going. The last time you two had sex, there was now no condom, and he was pounding you into the bed that you swore Isaack would definetely send a formally written complain, persuasive enough for the both of you to not have such intense, hot, steamy sex for the next few months, (He's a reporter after all, have to respect the man informing the people, and he definetely has a way with words).

Humming, groaning, a little against your neck. You swore it was like a kitten, as if he was purring in a way. You pulled his hair as per usual and with a louder grunt his dark brown eyes roll up just a slight and flutter, closing shut as he fills you to the brim with his warm baby batter. Shaking, sweating, and biting his lip when he just keeps on cumming until theres nothing more to give. Or is there?

What he didn't expect, was when you suddenly whispered in the midst of him balls deep inside you,

"Thats it... good boy, you fuckin slut... Cum in me, keep milkin' yourself f'me"

Ah shit, he swore something inside of him just snapped loose. With the way he shivered violently, and as your hand loosened on his sweaty brown hair he moves again. Oh how odd, after a few rounds, the last one being penetration, he's always so tired, opting to give you a handjob or finger you if you didnt get a taste of your climax but shit. If this wasn't hot then what was?!

When you had basically degraded him to milk his balls dry you didn't mean literally, but fuck. This was so appealing, that your little milk boy had his quirks.

You look down at yourself seeing the bulge appearing on your abdoment everytime he thrusts in and god does it make you feel dizzy. Your hard dick, leaking as well just begging to cum while Francis gasps and shudders a little more, oh he looks so dumb. Trying to do as he's told. To keep milking himself. Milking himself for you. Just for motherfucking you. It keeps fuzzy sparks inside of his brain that has him smiling and drooling against your chest.

"Awe, what an adorable little cow you are... Milking your-...yourself for me... Giving me every ounce of that sweet sweet milk of yours, hmm? You wanna give me your milk Francis? You wanna fucking cum in me again?"

He feels so lightheaded that he smiles dumbly at the idea and nods as if his head is too heavy, full of warm cream. Muttering several words in russian mixed in with english as he nods slowly, trembling as his cock, still hard and moving perfectly against every spot inside of you.

"Please please please К-Куколка please... fuck fuckk- let me cum... inside... inside... cum inside please please milk me- oh... П-Пожалуйста... З-...Золотце... Пожалуйста..."

The pathetic, brown haired man sobs. Pawing at your sides like an injured little puppy. Begging so prettily, who could deny those eyes of his? all teary and tired. Small blobs of salty water dripping down his eyebags which were now disappearing, thanks to yourself for keeping his sleep schedule normal again after years of nap malnutrition.

After a few more moments of Francis groaning so softly against your ear, you feel yourself about to cum too, and when you order it directly, he really does come undone. Panting like a dog in heat while nails dig against his back skin. All the while he buries himself deep inside of you once again and fills you up with a second load of his fluids that it's practically drooling out of your hole. You hiss as well, shutting your eyes with a shudder as your dick spurts out a thick white rope of cum, coating Francis' stomach and your chest. Fuck.

Francis pants, collapsing on you. You gently push him to the side and just watch him catch his breath. Eyes closed, skin warm and sweaty while he's still inside you. All soft. But its not uncomfortable. At least now, you definetely know how you can abuse this new found information with your lovely boyfriend.

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xxsabitoxx · 1 year ago

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JJK Men: Who is Most Likely to Have a Daddy Kink

Warning: this contains smut but not like... explicit smut. More so NSFW talk about kinks and such hehe

A/N: Listen... I used to have a real big daddy kink and I grew out of it forever ago... but sometimes y'all use "daddy" just right in some of your fics and it has me kicking my feet. So, for funzies, I wanted to share my personal HCs on who has a daddy kink and who doesn't lol

Geto Suguru

Sitting pretty and number one is none other than Suguru. Listen, I think this man has a massive daddy kink. I think this man gets off on you calling him daddy in and out of the bedroom. Like honestly? If you are really into it just like he is, he wouldn't mind it if you called him daddy all the time. Like, maybe save for calling him daddy in public or around friends. But in the privacy of your own home? In bed? When no one else can hear you? He'll be putty in your hands if you sweetly call him daddy. Part of the reason I say this is because I think Suguru is 100% a brat tamer, I think he lives for you being a little brat to him just so he can assert his authority over you and put you in your place. He thrives off of the ability to feel superior.

But, roughness aside, he will absolutely give you the best aftercare. Suguru will make sure you know how loved you are, he will constantly ask you for your reassurance that you are alright and he wasn't too hard on you. He'll shower you in love and praise and assure you that you are everything to him. He can get mean when he's in the mood to put you in your place, so he always prioritizes the aftercare.

2. Nanami Kento

I think Nanami has a daddy kink but he's kind of shy about it. Nanami actively hopes that you take the initiative and call him daddy. He's a bit embarrassed about the fact that he really likes the idea of being called daddy. He fantasizes about it when you aren't around to help him get off, stroking himself to the idea of you whispering that one word to him when he fucks you stupid. If you aren't going to take the initiative and call Nanami daddy, he'll eventually give in. He'll likely be balls deep in you when he grits out that you are to call him daddy. He'll be too lost in your body to even feel shame or embarrassment about the request and fuck will he come fast when you finally utter that one pretty word to him. All breathless and fucked out, you'll have Nanami falling apart every time you call him daddy.

Nanami also enjoys alternatives to Daddy, like calling him "sir". Unlike Suguru, he enjoys how respectful it sounds. Nanami won't make you call him daddy or sir outside of the bedroom, it's strictly a sex thing for him unless you express the interest in trying it outside of that scenario. Then, just maybe, Nanami will entertain the thought.

3. Ryomen Sukuna

Before you come and chew me out for the king not being at the top of this list... hear me out. Sukuna is from the Heian period, the man canonically speaks in old Japanese. Hell he asked Megumi to bewitch him. The term "daddy" is a little too new for Sukuna. That's not to say he won't grow to find interest in it. Sukuna much prefers when you call him things like "my king" or "my lord" he even enjoys "sir". But daddy will definitely take some getting used to for him. Once Sukuna gets acquainted with the idea, he will thoroughly enjoy it. He rather likes how flustered you get when you utter the word, making you say it in front of others just to watch them get uncomfortable as you so politely refer to him as daddy. He gets off on the embarrassment more than the word itself, but he does enjoy the nice little ring it has.

Aftercare can be mildly nonexistent with Sukuna. Sometimes his form of aftercare is making you cock-warm him after he just spent hours abusing your most sensitive bits. But other times he'll wrap you in his arms and whisper about how "nobody will ever love you like daddy does." brainwashing you into being content with him.

4. Gojo Satoru

Satoru has mixed feelings about the whole "daddy kink". Depending on your relationship, it may not be rare for you to jokingly call him daddy. Just as he will jokingly call you mommy. But these little "jokes" take a steep turn one night when he's fucking you stupid and he asks you to call him daddy for real. For some reason, it does him in. You'll later learn that you rather enjoy when he calls you mommy while you fuck and then it turns into this awkward little "we shall not speak of this outside of the bedroom" topic. You'll use the words against each other when in public just to see the other get worked up. But, much to Satoru's dismay, he realizes he really does like it when you call him daddy. He can't even explain it, especially since he would relentlessly tease Suguru for having a daddy kink.

Satoru loves aftercare, especially after times when he's punished you. The same can be said for when you provide aftercare after punishing him... having a daddy and a mommy kink is a whirlwind for the two of you. Satoru will clean you up and the tuck both of you in under the nice comfortable blankets, whispering about how he adores you and appreciates you for letting him live out his little fantasies.

5. Fushiguro Toji

Toji isn't really into the daddy kink... mostly because it reminds him of the responsibilities he ran away from... but if you really have a thing for calling him daddy, he's not going to stop you. Toji actually prefers it when you're mean to him, calling him filthy and rude names, belittling him, and calling him a nasty old pervert. He gets off on you being rude to him while he fucks you stupid. Nothing gets him off more than being called a sleazy fucking perv. He doesn't know why but you degrading him will have him blowing his load shamelessly in minutes. But if you really want to call him daddy, Toji will for sure entertain you. Because fuck does he love putting a brat in their place.

When it comes to aftercare, it really depends on your relationship. Toji may just blow his load and then dip, leaving you to clean up and pull yourself together. But if Toji has feelings for you, or if you fucked him really good? He'll clean you up before collapsing in bed beside you.

#heart divider is from cafekitsune!#reader is gender neutral for most of these #satoru's implies reader is female #but you can just substitute one of the words #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #gojo smut #geto smut #nanami smut #sukuna smut #toji smut #smut headcanons #suguru x reader #satoru x reader #nanami x reader #sukuna x reader #toji x reader

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sceletaflores · 7 months ago

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isn't it messed up how i'm just dying to be him?

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: and there it is. there’s that glimmer of attention, that hint of acknowledgement of him. the heavy look of rage taking over your features, the bite in your tone, it’s what art’s wanted for months. your undivided attention.

—or: art tries to get through to you about patrick, it doesn't go how he thought it would.

word count: 6.2k (i'm so sorry lmao pls still read it's good i promise)

warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y’all!), switch!art a little bit, creampie, kinda hate sex but not really, more like angry sex, swearing, fighting as foreplay, art is lowkey a little gay for patrick (it's literally canon), tiny bit of manipulative!art, art is just kinda an asshole in disguise honestly, hints of mean!reader cause i live for that shit, tashi and reader are cute besties, art being a bad bro, porn with too much plot, no use of y/n.

authors note: so this is basically a re-worked version of art and tashi’s dining hall scene when he’s trying to convince her that patrick isn’t in love with her. it’s really similar just way more messy and angry and with sex. this is literally just a tiny thought i had that somehow spiraled just a little bit, but i needed some lowkey asshole!art in my life. i had so much fun writing this, like way too much fun lmao. title is a lyric from fall out boy’s "sugar, we're going down swinging" cause that song fucks so hard and it's soooo art coded. okay bye! mwah xoxo

psst! tftw series masterlist!

Art Donaldson is a patient guy. He's nice, understanding, empathetic. It's something he prides himself on, lots of guys on campus are pricks, but not him. He's "the sweet blonde guy that plays tennis, like, really well!" according to most people who've met him.

That being said, he's not blind to the fact that you frustrate him to the point of wanting to shout himself hoarse and rip his hair out.

It's been a while since he and Patrick met you for the first time at the Open, and Art has been through hell and back about a million times over by now.

He still so vividly remembers watching you step onto the court, the almost visceral reaction he had. The crowd was cheering and clapping nearly as loud as they were for Tashi. There were even a few signs made in support of you scattered throughout the stands. Big poster boards plastered with your name and your winning streak and pictures of you playing, tennis balls and rackets drawn from markers decorating them.

It was obvious you were a favorite, and it was more than obvious how much you lived for it.

Smiling and waving to the crowd, fully basking in their respect and adoration. You were nearly glowing, Art couldn't take his eyes off you. He could tell that Patrick was thinking the same thing, if the way his thigh tensed up where it was plastered against Arts was any hint, his breath slightly catching as you started stretching.

"Goddamn..." Patrick had muttered under his breath. Art could distantly see his hand clench on top of his thigh when you bent over to tighten your laces. He always tries to be less shameless than Patrick but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t just as affected by you, fighting the urge to shift in his seat.

After you and Tashi walked up to the net with matching smiles and shook hands for a little longer than usual, it was time to start. Art watched as both of you got in position on the opposite ends of the court. Both of your faces lost the easy-going, excited expressions you’d shared when you first walked out, hardening in concentration as Tashi got ready to serve.

Patrick and Art openly gawking at the two of you would have been embarrassing if it wasn’t so fucking justified.

You and Tashi made magic happen on that court.

It was powerful hit after powerful hit. Tashi’s backhand was out of this world, your overhand was a monster. Every rally, every volley, every serve was pure perfection. Art had never seen tennis played like that before in his life, he couldn't help but get sucked into your world the longer he watched.

The match was close, completely neck-and-neck throughout each set, neither of you willing to give an inch to the other. Tashi won by a single point, hardly wasting any time before she vaulted over the net to come barreling into your open arms, crashing into you so hard it knocked the two of you to the ground.

You both grasped at each other like lifelines on the hard concrete of the court as the announcer crowned Tashi the 2006 girl’s U.S Open champion.

Art let out a long breath and deflated a little deeper in his seat. His mind racing, he didn’t need to look at Patrick to know he felt the same. They sat in silence like that until the stands were practically empty.

“What time did you say the party was again?”

Art pointedly ignored Patrick staring at him with a shit-eating grin on his face, stretching his arms out in feigned nonchalance. Patrick just snorted, shaking his head and squeezing Art’s thigh.

That was then, now Art sits across from you in the Stanford dining hall at the same table you two eat lunch at everyday, trying to stay cool as you complain about the latest biology lab you’re doing.

He’s hardly listening to you, too busy trying his best to not glare too obviously at the hoodie you're wearing. One that he knows for a fact belongs to Patrick. You must have kept it the last time he was in town. The Nike swoosh embroidered to the front almost mocks him. Art puts his water down with a little more force than necessary.

Patrick and you being…whatever the two of you are now was something he tried his best to be okay with in the beginning.

Patrick’s his best guy, Art should have been so stoked that you were into him as much as he was into you when the two of them walked up to congratulate you and Tashi at the Adidas party. Only being able to steal you away from the house after you said your goodbyes to Tashi and her parents, inviting you to join them down at the beach.

It was obvious you were playing into Patrick’s attempts to get in your pants. Not blushing or averting your eyes shyly when he blatantly checked you out, throwing out smart comebacks to his sleazy lines, looking up at him through your lashes and biting your lip.

It would have been soul-crushing if Art wasn’t such a good friend. So, he stifled the rising feelings of jealousy and plastered a smile on his face as he watched Patrick shamelessly flirt with you.

It wasn’t like it was your fault. Art didn’t come on as strong as Patrick, he never did. Plus it wasn’t like he and Patrick had talked about who could try and score with you prior to the party, anything was fair game.

Besides, you were nice enough to Art that night. Chatting about college admissions and smiling at him over your coke bottle. Sure, it stung seeing you laugh at Patrick’s stupid jokes while the two of you smoked off the same cigarette, but there was nothing he could do about it.

You choosing Patrick had nothing to do with him. Everyone always chose Patrick, he was used to it by now.

At least he thought he was, but the longer it was just you and him, the more angry he felt each time Patrick would visit and steal all your attention. It wasn’t just jealousy or frustration anymore; it was a gnawing, consuming rage that twisted his insides every time he saw you light up around Patrick.

Patrick didn't fucking deserve you. You were too good for him. Nothing like all the easy, ditsy girls he fucked his way through at the academy. You were special, unlike any girl Art’s ever met. Patrick would just take you for granted. He'd grow tired of you, completely dismissing you when he got bored enough. Any day now he'd call Art to spill on his latest hookup with some chick he met on tour.

But Art didn’t want to sit around and wait for that day to come. He couldn’t stand the thought of you being hurt by Patrick’s inevitable indifference. The idea of you, heartbroken and discarded, made his blood boil. You deserve more than that. You deserve someone who sees you for who you truly are, not just a trophy.

Art knows he could be that person for you if you’d give him a chance, if for once you’d look at him instead of Patrick. He just has to find a way to get you to understand that.

“Pat texted me this morning,” you say from across the table, boredly poking at your pasta. “He’s gonna be here later this week, says he wants to go see 30 Days of Night. You and Tashi should come with us.”

Art hums noncommittally, not looking at you as he takes another bite of his salad. You do this a lot– extend invites to Art and Tashi when you and Patrick go out.

Art knows you think you’re being nice by trying to make them feel included, but getting invited usually means having to watch Patrick touch you and kiss you and walk around with his hand in your back pocket.

Art’s fork stabs into his salad roughly. He takes a slow breath, trying to calm the emotions starting to swirl inside him. “Yeah, sure,” he says eventually, forcing a smile. “Sounds fun.”

He sneaks a look at you from under his lashes. You’re already looking at him, brow raised at his clipped tone. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

Art shakes his head, waving a hand dismissively. “No, no, it’s fine. I’ll be there.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, still watching him with a hint of skepticism. “Are you alright? You’ve been weird all day.”

Art lets out a small laugh, but it sounds more sour than sweet, and finally looks up at you. You look back expectantly, concern lingering in your eyes. “Nothing, it’s just…” he pauses, drumming the fingers of his left hand on the table, “the fact that you two are still going out surprises me. That’s all.”

He regrets it as soon as he says it, words sounding way more patronizing than he wanted. His chest immediately tightens with guilt, but he doesn’t wince or shrink back like he normally would, just keeps his eyes on you.

Your brows furrow, a tiny frown pulling at the corners of your lips. “What?” you ask, fork stilling in your hand. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Art just sighs, putting his fork down and leaning towards you. “I know Patrick better than you do,” he says with a tiny shrug, “he’s always had a hard time with…commitment.” He says slowly, searching for the right word.

You don’t say anything for a couple seconds, eyes scanning over his face slowly like you're examining him. Art forces himself to not start squirming under your intense, studying gaze.

You don’t seem to like what you find, eyes narrowing as you push your tray away from you and lean back in your seat. “Are you seriously shit talking your own best friend right now?”

Art’s brow raises, that wasn’t the reaction he was expecting, at all. His jaw ticks in annoyance, his hand balling into a fist on the tabletop.

“I’m not trying to shit talk him,” he says calmly, voice tinged with frustration. “I’ve just seen how things go with him. I’m looking out for you.”

Your eyes harden, disbelief mingling with irritation. “So, what? You think you know what’s best for me or something? Are you my keeper now?”

That pisses Art off, now you’re just being an asshole. His brows furrow, arms crossing in front of his chest defensively. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He says, tone harder than before.

You scoff, anger spilling over your face. “Well what the fuck do you mean then, Art? Because you dancing around whatever it is you obviously want to say is really starting to piss me off.”

Irritation flares in Art’s chest, piercing and sudden. He swallows it down, breathing out his nose slowly to try and calm himself. The air between the two of you is tense now.

You’re loud enough that a few people sitting at tables nearby start to quiet down, discreetly trying to listen in.

“Patrick doesn’t love you.” Art says spitefully, his fingers grip the muscle of his arms tighter. It’s childish, but he doesn't care.

Your eyes widen, clearly caught off guard. You recover quickly, letting out a disbelieving laugh as you push away from the table with a harsh scrape of your chair. "Excuse me?" Your voice cuts through the air, sharp and incredulous.

He stays silent, letting the weight of his words hang heavy in the air. Your eyes narrow, searching his face for any sign of retreat, but Art meets your gaze head-on, jaw set stubbornly.

You stand with your arms crossed over your chest as you stare down at him. “Why are you telling me this? Why do you care if Patrick loves me or not?”

Why do you care? The question makes his heart drop down to his stomach. Dread mixes with the anger in his chest. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go, he doesn’t want to make a scene in the middle of the dining hall. You’re just being so difficult.

You’re jumping to defend Patrick, not even trying to hear him out, just like you always do. Still refusing to give Art the attention he deserves. It’s fucking infuriating.

“I’m just saying,” he says, voice distant and cold, “he hasn’t been in love with you for a while. He’s told me.”

It’s a lie, he’s hardly spoken to Patrick recently, but he’s in this now. He may as well go for broke, he always plays to win after all.

Your face contorts grimly, another disbelieving laugh punches it’s way out your chest. You don’t seem to notice the amount of heads turned in your direction, or maybe you just don’t care. “Oh, he’s told you that has he?” you parrot back mockingly, head cocked to the side as you stare daggers at him, “That’s fucking bullshit Art!”

Art clenches his fists, jaw flexing in anger. He’s never seen you this mad before, never expected to be the cause of it. But at the same time he’s fucking angry too. Angry at you. Angry at Patrick. Angry at himself.

His eyes narrow, holding your own heated gaze without backing down because if there's one thing he hates most, it's losing. “You don’t get it do you?” He mutters quietly, shaking his head in dismay.

Your jaw tightens, eyes blazing as you lean forward, bracing your hands on the table to get up in his face. He can smell the familiar fruity sweetness of your perfume.

“What’s there to get? The only thing I’m getting right now, is a front row seat to you being a vindictive little prick.” You bite out, breath fanning over Art’s face. “Who even said I wanted Patrick to be in love with me? Who said I gave a fuck about any of that?” You question sternly, brows furrowed as you scowl at him.

Art scoffs loudly, his face twisting in disgust as he rolls his eyes. His blood boils at having to sit here while you bitch him out. He wants to strangle you, to take you by your shoulders and shake you so that you’ll listen.

To make you see what he sees. To make you love him. “Please,” he hisses through gritted teeth, shifting so he’s leaning across the table just as you are, his eyes dark. “Everyone wants Patrick to love them. Everyone wants his attention. You want it.”

You just blink at him, taken aback by his outburst. You stare at him, not budging as your eyes scan over his face for a second time. And there it is. There’s that glimmer of attention, that hint of acknowledgement of him.

The heavy look of rage taking over your features, the bite in your tone, it’s what Art’s wanted for months. Your undivided attention.

After a few tense seconds you just laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “You might be the worst fucking friend in the world.” You say simply, like you're reading off this week's forecast.

Maybe he is.

Art can feel the heat rising to his cheeks in anger, in embarrassment, in hatred, in lust. The way you’re looking at him makes something stir deep in his gut. His heartbeat echoes in his ears.

You’re so mad, but in that you’re giving him a hint of your attention, giving him the time of day, and you’re still fucking defending Patrick. Rage seethes in him, hot like fire. Yet even in this moment, you’re the only person that really matters. The intensity of your gaze pulls at something raw inside him.

“He doesn’t deserve you.” His voice is lower, pinched with thinly veiled frustration threatening to boil over.

"And you think you're the expert on what I deserve, Art? Last time I checked, your own love life’s track record isn't exactly stellar."

It’s a low blow, bringing up how Tashi rejected him a while back. He hadn’t told you about that, so Tashi must have. He laughs, but his lips are pulled up in a sneer.

"Don’t start deflecting,” Your name falls from his lips sharply, stabbing through the thick tension in the air. “This isn't about me, it's about you. You're setting yourself up to get hurt, and I'm just trying to warn you–"

"Yeah, well, I didn't ask for your fucking opinion," you snap, "maybe you should focus on your own damn problems.”

Art’s jaw tightens further, his frustration finally getting the best of him. "Fine, do whatever the hell you want. But don't come crying to me when Patrick does what he always does— leaves you for someone new."

You stare at him incredulously, shock and anger warring in your expression. "I can't believe you just said that."

"Yeah, well," Art mutters bitterly, looking away. "Believe whatever you want. Just know that he’s playing with your feelings.”

You huff, throwing your arms out at your sides in frustration. “What fucking feelings Art!” you say loudly, not quite shouting but you’re getting there. “Sure, Patrick and I fuck but that doesn’t mean we’re playing husband and wife with each other!”

You’re definitely way too loud, voice steadily rising in volume the more you talk. Seemingly not caring about who’s around to hear you yell about fucking Patrick. “In fact,” you continue, shaking an accusatory finger at Art, “you’re the one trying to get in my head and play with my feelings, you fucking hypocrite.”

His mind whites out, filled with blinding jealousy all over again. He wants you so fucking badly, he could be everything you needed. Why can’t you see that? How could you be so blind? How could you not see that Patrick was using you, just like he used everyone else?

Art leans further across the table as you speak, his hands coming up to grip the edges of it tightly. “You’re so fucking naive, you know that?” He snaps in a biting tone. It’s harsher than he’s spoken to you during this whole fight.

Your voice drips with sarcasm as you lean forward, eyes locked on his. "Oh, well forgive me for not seeing the truth according to Saint Art."

“So fucking naive.” He repeats, spitting the words across the table meanly.

“And you’re a fucking pussy.” You bite back, leaning in even closer so Art can see your lips form around the words maliciously. You sway close enough that the tip of your nose bumps against his. His breath catches, going ragged in his throat. You’re so close to him. He can smell you, can practically taste you on his tongue.

He wants to take you in his arms, to hold you and kiss the anger off your face. The only thing keeping him from lunging out is the way you look. Your whole body is rigid with anger, eyes dark and cheeks flushed. You’re so beautiful. He has to remind himself that he’s supposed to be pissed at you and fight the urge to pull you in and really taste you.

But then you're backing away completely, “I won’t waste my time on stupid shit like this,” you mutter, turning to pick your bag up off the floor. “Thanks for lunch, Art.” You say sarcastically, not even looking at him as you turn on your heel and walk towards the dining hall’s exit before he can respond.

Art’s heart lurches forward at your words, not with pain, but with want. He watches you leave, the regret quickly setting in once you’re not here to play into his resentment. It hits him like a cold shiver, he wants to feel good for speaking his mind, for telling you how it is. Maybe on some level he does, but it’s overshadowed by how awful he feels.

Art stares down at his unfinished salad, appetite gone. He sighs loudly, standing up to toss his own tray plus the one you left behind. He tries his best to ignore the stares he can feel following him as he walks out.

ᯤ

Art wallows in misery for the rest of the day, skipping the practice he had planned after lunch. He just locks himself in his dorm, laying on his mattress and staring at the ceiling as he replays the fight in his mind. Replaying every word you said to him, every word he said back to you, every angry look you gave him.

He thinks about texting you a thousand times. Typing and deleting different messages until he eventually gave up. He knows you’re beyond pissed, that him reaching out will only piss you off more and he wants to try and salvage this before you completely shut him out. The thought of losing you is why he never wanted to bring it up in the first place, regret settles in his gut like a ball of lead.

And yet, there was a small part of him that hoped, despite the shit show in the dining hall, that you’d see the quiet care he showed, the way he was there for you, and choose him for once. But hope was a dangerous thing, and Art wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out.

Hours go by with nothing from you, it’s the longest you’ve gone with talking since the semester started. He forced himself to study for his biology final in a lazy attempt at taking his mind off you. You’d usually be in his dorm room right now, all spread out on his bed like it’s your own as you talk his ear off about something like your asshole psychology professor.

The longer he sits at his desk the longer the ache in his chest consumes him. Art would do anything to know what you were thinking right now. He’d grovel for your attention, he’d fall to his knees and beg and plead if that’s what it took for you to forgive him.

He’s getting ready for bed when his Blackberry pings on his night stand, it’s almost embarrassing how fast he rushes over to it. His heart stutters in his chest when he sees it's a text from you. It’s only two words, a simple ‘come over’.

Art’s never moved faster in his life, rushing out of his room with only his phone, wallet, and keys.

He makes it to your dorm in record time, nearly sprinting across campus to hurry up and get there before you change your mind. All that needy rushing completely vanishes once he’s actually outside your door.

Art hesitates, staring at the little door decals taped on with your name written on them in black sharpie. He rests his ear against the door, but he can’t hear anything. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, brows pinched as he wrestles with himself.

“C’mon Donaldson, don’t be such a little bitch.” Patrick’s voice rings out in the back of his mind. He takes a breath and knocks on the door.

Barely a second passes before it’s swinging open and you're there, gripping the front of his shirt and dragging him inside your room. Art's back hits the closing door with a thud, his breath catching in surprise. His hands shoot out to brace on either side of the door, knocking over a racket resting on the wall. Everything he brought with him falling to clatter onto the wood floor loudly.

You look rough, eyes slightly red and puffy like you may have been crying. Your breath comes out in short, quick bursts as you stare up at him. All the anger he swore would come rushing back when he saw you drains out of him in a second.

His face softens, a tiny frown on his lips. "Hey, what’s going on?" he asks, voice a mix of confusion and worry. His hands come up to hover near your hips, hesitating at the last second, not sure if he should touch you.

Without a word, you’re flying forward while yanking him down by his shirt. Closing the distance between the two of you with your lips crashing against Art’s. It’s so sudden, so completely out of left field, that Art stumbles forward a few steps, hands gripping your hips tightly to steady himself.

It’s almost pathetic how easily he kisses back, not even hesitating. Flashes of Patrick’s face go through his mind as he eagerly reciprocates, not stopping him from pulling your hips flush against his. He definitely might be the worst friend in the world, all the loyalty he felt to Patrick tossed out of his mind the second your tongue slides past his lips.

It’s intense, there’s no romance or gentleness about it. Your lips move against his almost violently, all the aggression and anger from earlier still very much there. He’s never kissed a girl like this before, it’s not how he imagined his first kiss with you would go. He’s still getting hard in his sweats anyway.

Your tongue fucks into his mouth roughly, it reminds him of the time he and Patrick kissed when they were still at the academy for “practice”. He moans loudly into your mouth, letting you dominate the kiss and just trying his best to keep up. Your teeth clack against his roughly, biting down on his bottom lip hard enough to have him whining embarrassingly high and needy.

“It’s over with Patrick,” you breathe hotly, slick lips brushing his with every word. “I want you to fuck me.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

Art’s dick feels hard enough to burst out of his sweats by sheer force, but he pauses, pulling away from you with a hesitant look. "I-" he tries, voice cracking slightly. He can feel his cheeks starting to burn as he clears his throat. "I don't think that's a good idea. It's so soon, and I mean you're obviously going through something and I don't want to take advantage of yo-"

An incredulous laugh bursting from your lips effectively cuts Art off, your eyes roll to the ceiling in dry amusement. “God, Art.” you scoff, both hands pushing off his chest to create space between the two of you. He keeps his hands on your hips, the thin material of your bottoms bunching in his grip. “You’re such a fucking little bitch, you can kiss me but you won’t fuck me? What is it? You scared of Patrick or something?”

The taunt hits Art like a slap across the face, he freezes for a second before disbelief gives way to white hot rage. You just stare up at him smugly, lips red and wet. Art bares his teeth, using his strong hold on your hips to force you backwards until your knees hit the edge of your bed.

“You’ve pushed me and pushed me and pushed me,” he spits, glaring down at you as he speaks. “Acting like such a fucking brat. You want me to fuck you?” He pushes you back onto the bed roughly, covering your body with his, letting his weight sink you deeper into the mattress. “Fine, I’ll fuck you.”

Art sits up, ripping his shirt over his head and tossing it somewhere behind his shoulder. Your greedy eyes rake down the toned muscle of his torso, hands coming up to lightly scratch your nails over his abs. His breath hitches, goosebumps breaking out all over his skin. He grabs your wrists, forcing them down and pinning them to the bed. “No touching.” he chastises, leaning down to bite the skin of your neck roughly. Sucking hard enough that he’ll definitely leave a mark.

His dick twitches against the inside of his sweats at the thought of you walking around campus with his claim staked on you, at the thought of Patrick, if he was still coming down, seeing it and immediately knowing who left it there. He slides his knee between your legs, he can feel the warmth radiating from your pussy, can feel how you’re so wet it’s soaking through your bottoms and onto his thigh.

You hiss at the sting of his teeth, trying to squeeze your wrists out of his strong grip. Your thighs tighten around his knee, hips bucking up against him. “Are you gonna fuck me anytime soon, Art? Or do I need to find someone else that’s not all talk?”

Art chuckles darkly, nipping at the sensitive skin of your collarbones. “You can bitch and moan all you want, but I haven’t even touched you yet–” he leans forward to whisper directly into your ear, “–And you’re still fucking soaked for me anyway.” He drags his tongue along the shell of your ear in a dirty stripe.

You let out a keen, pretty and high, grinding your hungry pussy against his knee faster. He lets go of your hands, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your stomach. Tossing you around like it’s nothing, just manhandling you.

“God,” he groans, big hands coming up to knead the meat of your ass, spreading it lewdly making you moan softly. “You’re so fucking hot.” He whispers, words falling from his lips like he couldn’t hold them in any longer.

Art keeps one hand tight on your hip, the other fumbling with the drawstring of his sweats so he can push them down to finally free his aching dick. Letting it spring out to slap up onto his bare stomach, trailing a thin line of pre-come across his abs.

You squirm under him, feet kicking out as you struggle in his hold. Your head craning over your shoulder and zeroing in on his dick, hard and red and leaking. “You came over here with no panties on, Donaldson?” you taunt, pushing your ass back onto the sensitive length of his erection. “How slutty–”

“Shut up,” he snaps harshly, but his dick twitches where it’s dragging over the seam of your ass. He’s leaking like a faucet, leaking like a girl, all over your light green plaid bottoms. It strikes him suddenly, how familiar they look. He stares at the worn down fabric covering your ass, at the way his pre-come stains the material darker, at the way they hang too low on your hips, too big for you.

“Are these…are these Patrick's,” he asks slowly, voice low as his fingers skim over the soft material. You chuckle wickedly, wiggling your hips back teasingly.

“Yeah, they are,” you say, sliding your ass back and forth over Art’s dick. “You’re leaking jizz all over your best friend's pants, Art.”

Art groans loudly, chin dropping to his chest as hips jerk against your ass involuntarily. A full body shiver wracks through him like lightning, eyes screwing shut as he tries not to come all over your ass. “Shit–” he bites out sharply, voice rough and scratchy. He can distantly hear you laughing at him through all the white noise buzzing in his ears.

He breathes out through his nose, willing himself to calm down. He needs to be in control for once, needs to teach you a lesson for ignoring him for so long.

Art’s hands come up to the waistband of your– Patrick's– pants, fingers digging underneath the loose material and forcefully yanking it down along with your panties, only pulling them down to your mid-thigh. You yelp in surprise, hands gripping the sheets of your bed tightly.

“I need to get inside you, right fucking now.” he rumbles thickly, flipping you onto your back again. He needs to see your face when he fucks you for the first time, needs to burn it into his mind forever.

“Fuck yes,” you reply eagerly, arms coming up to circle around his shoulders. “Finally.”

Art doesn't reply, eyes fixed on your bare pussy, so fucking wet and shining underneath the shitty ceiling light of your dorm. His mouth waters, he wants to drop to his stomach and eat you out until you're shaking and squirting all over his face. His dick drools at the thought, but he’ll have to wait. He needs to fuck you.

He takes his dick in his hand, dragging it through the silky skin of your soaked folds. He spreads your wetness around your clit, rubbing the leaking tip over you back and forth teasingly. You whine, thighs starting to shake on either side of him. He drags his dick back down to your clenching hole, lining up and slowly sinking inside the tight, wet heat.

Art doesn’t give you any time to adjust to the thick head of his dick breaching your tight hole, burying himself to the hilt inside of you with a sharp thrust.

“Fuck!” you cry out, legs coming up to wrap tightly around his hips, digging your heels into his lower back. “Shit, fuck you’re– God, you're so fucking deep.”

“I’m going to use your fucking pussy however I want,” Your name falls from his lips, dirty and blistering. “because it’s the least I deserve for putting up with your bullshit for so fucking long, and you’re going to be good and lay there and take it.” He drives his point home with a mean thrust of his hips.

“Fuck you, Art.” you mutter back, trying to keep up the bratty act even though your voice is going breathless and needy.

Art doesn’t ease into it, pulling back only to start pounding into your pussy ruthlessly. Sharp slaps of his hips stinging your ass each time he drives back in, your eyes roll back in your head, slack lips parted in pleasure as he fucks you.

Art can’t help but lean down to claim your mouth, kissing you a little too sweetly for the moment. He can’t help it, not when you’re under him making the sweetest noises, letting him fuck your perfect fucking pussy like he owns it. God.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Art growls, breaking the kiss to rest his sweaty forehead against yours. “You’re so fucking, tight. Feels so fucking– shit, so fucking good.” His hips speed up, desperately rutting into you.

“Art,” you whine, nails scratching down his back hard. “I’m so close, fuck I’m so close– keep going, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop–”

He cuts off your rambling with a kiss, groaning at the way his name sounds getting fucked out of your mouth. The loud squelch your pussy makes each time he buries himself back inside has his ears burning, he can feel you soaking the skin of his thighs with every thrust.

“Wanna feel your tight pussy milk me dry,” he grinds out through gritted teeth, picking up his pace. “Fuck, I‘m gonna come, I’m gonna fucking come.” He ruts into you harder, splitting you open with every thrust. The skin of your ass turning red and raw from how hard he’s giving it to you.

Your hands come up to bury themselves in his hair, tugging sharply to make him look at you. “Inside,” you pant, eyes glazed over and wild, “come inside me Art, please. I’m on the pill you can, you can come inside me.” Your legs tighten their hold on his hips, ankles locking snugly over his lower back so he couldn’t even pull out if he wanted.

“Fuck!” Art shouts your name hoarsely, hips stuttering as he unloads in you. Hot come spraying the walls of your pussy. You let out a broken moan, your whole body shaking as you come with him. Your pussy chokes his dick so tightly, gripping him like a vice, milking him.

Art tilts his head up, catching your lips with his to greedily swallow down all your moans. He keeps going, shallow thrusts of his hips working you through the aftershocks of your orgasm until you’re kicking at his back, whining at him to stop. He collapses on top of you, his sweaty skin sticking to the fabric of your shirt.

It’s quiet for a while, the two of you silently trying to catch your breath. Your hands come up to his head, sliding into the messy strands of his hair. “It’s pretty late now,” you say slowly, nails scratching against his scalp softly. “You could…you could stay here if you want.”

Art hides the wide grin breaking out on his face in your chest, arms coming up to circle around your waist. “Yeah, that sounds good.” He whispers back, squeezing the soft skin of your hips once.

It’s only later, when you’ve fallen asleep on his chest, that he stares up at the ceiling lost in thought. He’s too worked up to sleep, so fucking thrilled that it worked. His plan actually worked. You’re his now. He looks down at you, glowing softly in the moonlight filtering through your window, deep hickeys scattered across your neck. He drags his fingers along your cheekbone, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

This is what he’s wanted for so long, you.

You asleep in bed with him, you curled up in his arms, you with his come steadily dripping out of your swollen pussy.

Art can hear his Blackberry start buzzing on your nightstand, lighting up with an incoming call. Even from far away he can read the name displayed on the screen. Patrick. He lets it ring.

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evilminji · 1 year ago

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Oh... my god? Ghost Reporters.

Imagine it. Their office is in the Zone. They literally FEED of hunting for The Next Big Scoop! And Revealing The Truth! Every honest reporter that got silenced for getting a little too close to the facts. The bloody, beating, heart of societies underbelly.

Every Lois Lane that had no Kryptonian to stop some rich and powerful jackals putting them in the ground.

Well Death sure didn't stop THEM! They STILL want answers! But now they have co-wokers. Oh~ and SUPERPOWERS! And best part?

The newly appointed KING is going too and from the living world. That must mean it's okay now, RIGHT? Your majesty? You're not a RAGING HYPOCRITE, aaaaare you? :) 🎤

And... look. Danny knows full well what these piranhas are up too. He's not stupid. But Madeline Fenton raised a lot of things. Fool? Not one of um. That a LOT of reporters with sharp, sharp teeth and bloodlust in their eyes. He wants to half-live.

He compromises. Illusion of control and all that. Yeah, yeah, they all tooootally respect his authority etc. Give them Them Scoop! He, wisely, gets the fuck out of the way. Whoosh! Off they go!

Thats.... probably gonna be a problem. *siiiiiips his morning coffee* But it's not HIS problem. Not right now.

And? Suddenly all these politicians and business leaders are getting fucking AMBUSHED. Oh? You thought you'd get soft ball "aren't I a man of the people. Buy oil!" Bullshit questions? HA! Where were you on June 27th, 1978, at-

And "according to YOUR words, exact quote as follows-"

Just? They BEAT the leader with the STICK. "Oh but you'll lose access". They'd love to see HOW! They can go through WALLS! Answer the question, coward. "Your gonna make powerful enemies!" Oh nooooo, what are they gonna DO?

Shoot us TWICE?

Hey Mr. Family Values! How's the three mistresses your wife doesn't know about?? "No comment"? That's fine. We already have THEIRS. >:D Good luck with your upcoming election!

And like? As newspapers are shutting down and turning clickbait all across the country? This ONE(1) tiny, middle of nowhere town? Somehow has a horrid, horrid, ARMY of Satan's own Reporters. All apparently willing to die for the News. Throwing themselves at dictators and Supervillians alike.

"We see no God here but the Truth" is literally their papers MOTTO.

The damn thing is basicly a BRICK. You get a paperback of news. Entire planet AND THEN SOME. How?! How are they reporting, IN DETAIL, on the break down of talks between two planets 16 galaxies over? Hal says it's accurate. But what Earth paper would even HAVE that information?

And?? The whole town treats this as normal? There are human children, complaining about the weight of papers, because it makes their paper routes a pain in the ass. Soccer moms discussing alien celebrity drama. Farmers muttering over foreign unrest and how it will impact their corn harvest.

Fucking Lex Luthor, clearly deciding to roll with it, coming to sign himself up for a paper. Gaining a new life long Nemesis upon meeting Vladimir Master, whom he decides is both hot and unbearable. Someone is heard shouting "oh god, there's TWO OF THEM!"

And?? Look. Clark isn't MAD. Or JEALOUS. Nor is he in a secret Reporting War with Jerry from the Amity Chronicle. Because that would be petty and childish. He's just SAYING, maybe they should check the place out!

Maybe Jerry is a DICK and deserves it, is all. (Lois stop laughing.)

@hypewinter @hdgnj @ailithnight

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #Ghost Reporters Au

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bokunoheros · 3 months ago

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˚࿔ BODILY FORCE | KINKTOBER 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

🪲 authors note:// hi guys… sorry this is shameful, happy kinktober! also, this is my first time participating in kinktober fr fr… dear anon that requested this, i hope i have fed you well.

topics discussed and warnings:// BDSM RELATION SHIPS, overstimulation, forced orgasm, obviously smut, aftercare, readers gender is not specified but i do use female anatomical terms and clothing descriptions, i use pet names too much, hand jobs, use of a fleshlight lol, gagging, crying during sex, praise, come eating, sub!izuku, softdom!reader, this is prohero!izuku btw, MOMMY/MAMA KINK, sorry not sorry!

word count:// 800 something

ᯓ heed the warnings laid before you, your media consumption is your responsibility! ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

every WORD under this cut is R-RATED— respect my wishes upon interacting.

𝜗𝜚 edited and proof read by the lovely calius .ᐟ xoxo

✎ᝰ He’s so desperate to touch you, to keep a hand on your thigh so he doesn’t feel like he’s constantly falling. “Ah-uh,” you gently reprimand him as he tries to reach for your thigh. Izuku winces at your voice, rolling his head back into the pillow as he balls his fists into the sheets.

“Fuck,” he whines, writhing under your relentless pace.

“Watch your mouth,” you hum at him, squeezing your hand around his base. He chokes out the most pitiful sob before he slaps his hand over his mouth. Silly boy.

You start to slow down your pace, slowly dragging the toy over his head before going back down. You can visibly watch his stomach flip, and he jerks his head up, lips parted as he watches you. Repeating these motions a few times as he watches, you slowly remove the toy from him, his poor cock slipping out with a twitch. Izuku winced, whining as you pulled away.

“Mm, no…” he reached out, but you were quick to pull away.

“Tsk-Tsk,” you suck your teeth, watching him retreat back. “Be patient, Izuku,” you cooed, flicking his bruised cock-head with your finger. He flinched, his muscular thighs tightening at the impact.

“I—I’m trying,” your sweet boy stuttered, “You're just so pretty, mama.”

You stuck out your bottom lip, “I know.” You sigh, lifting a hand to pet his cheek and Izuku melts into your palm, breathing deeply through his mouth, his eyes fluttering shut.

You ran your fingers over his tough chest, pinching one of his nipples with your long nails. He jerks, his eyes busting open as you roll his nipple between your fingers. Discarding the fleshlight towards the end of the bed, you straddle one of his strong thighs, leaning in to lick and tease at his nipples. He mewls under you, panting heavily through his mouth.

With one hand, you snake back between his legs, gently pumping his cock. Izuku tenses, but relaxes as you keep a gentle pace. You tease his head between your skilled fingers, the way you use your thumb to press gently onto his urethra driving him to tears as he shakes under you.

“Please, mommy,” he sobs, sniffling as tears begin to stain his cheeks. “Please let me come, please?” Your submissive begs, gritting his teeth as you fist the head of his swollen cock in your palm. “I’ve been so good, please please please—“ he cries your name like a mantra, writhing under you.

“Go on, cum for mama,” you whisper into his ear, keeping your utterly relentless pace against his cock alive. Izuku grits his teeth, moaning and crying, barely able to choke out two simple words:

“Cummminggggh— mama!” He tenses up, arching his back and throwing his head to the sky as he unraveled, shooting messy strands of his cum up his chest. You slowed down, watching as his cock spilled and spilled until the dribbling came to a stop.

Pausing your pumps, you kissed up his pecs, to his neck, and to his cheeks. Licking up his tears, his body relaxed in your false sense of security—

You were quick to lose your empathy for his strangled cock, as you started to palm-fuck him with the same pace as before. Your sub jerks up with a strangled cry:

“W—Wait! I can’t, not again mama—” He starts, before he’s inevitably snuffed out by you shoving four of your fingers into his mouth. Your sub gags around your fingers as you push them further into the back of his mouth, holding his tongue down as your digits tickle his esophagus. His knuckles turn white as he holds onto the sheets below him, struggling to contain his movements as you overwhelm his nervous system by milking another orgasm out of him. With one last tug of his bruised dick, he cums again, his body seizing as his cock expelled one last long rope of semen up his abdomen. You snatched your fingers out of his mouth, watching him gasp for breath like a fish out of water, coughing and drooling while he comes down from his forced high.

“There you go, atta boy…” you coo, wiping your drenched fingers on your bare thigh. You lean closer to his face as he takes deep breaths, grabbing at his skin as he does. “Are you okay?”

Izuku nods, choking out soft words, “I—I’m such a good boy, right mama?” you chuckle at his words as he drunkenly gazes up at you, using your index finger to gather up some of his semen on your finger, making him lick it off. “You’re my goodest boy, baby.” You lay down beside him, pulling him towards you, resting his head on your arm. You pet his hair, and rub his back, whispering praises in his ear.

“My sweet little boy,” you call to him, placing sweet kisses to his temple as you stroke the cheek opposite of your kisses. “Has mommy worn you out?”

“Mm… no,” Izuku lies, melting into your palm as he starts to drift off in your arms. You chuckle, petting his chest.

“Shhh, darling.”

THANK YOU FOR READING! if you wish to see more of me, ₊⊹

my carrd // kofi (tip me!)

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ghettogirly · 7 months ago

Note

headcanons for armando where his gf is like the total opposite of him? super bubbly, outgoing, friendly 😭 like grumpy x sunshine

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍!

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬! <𝟑

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

-> theme: grumpy x sunshine w/ drabble

-> warnings: slight mention of childhood issues?

-> authors note: woiiiii, this is a good request! hope you enjoy!!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

-> you both have COMPLETELY different personalities.

-> armando is not a man of many words, only speaking when it’s necessary, preferring silence.

-> he never openly interacted with people unless he needed to.

-> so when people found out that your boyfriend was THE Armando Aretas, it was fair to say that they were confused.

-> i think you both were even confused with how this happened because how do two completely opposite people, cross paths?

-> you knew of his father because he is THE mike lowery, a respectable police officer in the force.

-> however, you was just a silly assistant, so when you delivered coffee to the team during their group meeting, you caught his eye.

-> you had this doll look to you, like you’re too precious to touch. which was definitely the opposite of his look.

-> and ever since then, he always looked out for you.

-> whether it was helping you do your errands around the office or dropping you home once he saw you walking down the street one day.

-> so when people found out about your dynamic with each other, they were SHOCKED.

-> even mike had a “what the fuck” type look on his face.

-> you was so friendly, always talking to people with big balls of energy. always being the one who saw the good in people, sometimes a bit naive but a positive person nevertheless.

-> he was the grump and you was the ray of sunshine.

-> it never would’ve been foreseeable for Armando to even have the patience to deal with someone like you, but, he did.

-> people judged you even for talking, let alone, dating the man.

-> everyone saw him as the mean, cold hearted, ruthless killer. but you was different, you saw him completely different.

-> to you, he was your sweetheart.

-> he hated that nickname. he never understood why she used it. thinking it was childish.

-> until one day, armando and you was lying down im their shared bed, your hands running through his hair as he hummed in pleasure.

-> “¿Por qué siempre me llamas cariño?”

-> The girl paused for a moment, before parting her lips and replying, “you’ve been through so much and besides all of that you still have a soft spot for people, wanting that little boy inside to be loved and have a stable family.”

-> that stuck with him.

-> she became the light in that dark world he was once in, always counting on her to bring him up whenever he felt himself going back down that dark path.

-> “soy yo y tú contra el mundo, mi amor.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🕷️] 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

“soy yo y tú contra el mundo, mi amor.”: It’s me and you against the world, my love.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

@shurisgf @milliumizoomi @deadpool15 @loakswifesworld @wizewhispers @5tarlan7 @thedarkworldofhananerea @sarcasticbitchsblog @amplifiedmoan

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kingkat12 · 2 months ago

Text

unbearable (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, handjob, alcohol, graphic imagery, angst, mention of drugs, physical violence (almost), asshole teenage boys

summary: Roman had heard your no, respected your wishes, but now you were wondering how big of a blow it truly was for him to get his sexual advances rejected-- why was he blowing this so out of proportion? was something else maybe going on in that brain of his?

word count: 11,054 (am i on the brink of insanity maybe)

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10

a/n: sorry for the wait!! school is driving me nuts... BUT SO IS ROMAN!!! GRRR, enjoy!!!<333

Vladimir Nabokov, the author of Lolita, once wrote to his wife; "I love you, I'm waiting for you unbearably,"

... Waiting for Roman was unbearable, too.

Shatteringly unbearable. Images of wanting to ball up into a contortion of nothingness haunted me, and the need to become a single entity of anger and despair clawed wounds into my skin. I kept imagining I would grow extra arms to help my body become a circle, an ouroboros, but not stopping at the tail-- a snake eating itself to death.

If I could eat myself, I would. Not like an apple, not with gentle nips-- no, I would sink my teeth into my flesh and tear, rip, pull with all my might. Pull, pull, until I was nothing but a gushing wound.

This is what Roman was driving me to.

Is this a bearable state to be in? Constantly?

If I were to ask myself that question once more, I would answer that I no longer thought anything at all. I refused to. My brain stopped working properly the first time I saw him, anyway. Therefore none of my actions actually mattered. They had no consequence. No consequence at all, just like Roman probably saw his actions.

I should've listened to him the night we got together; "I shut down," he'd said. "I retaliate when I'm angry." Maybe I needed to be diagnozed with selective hearing? It was starting to seem as though I shut my ears whenever he spoke, only listening to the muffled sound of his voice as my pupils formed into pulsing hearts.

Still, it seemed I wasn't the only one with selective hearing. If I closed my eyes, I could live through the moment I tried to tell Roman I wasn't up for having sex with him last night. It was like he didn't hear me, didn't register it; but in hindsight, it didn't feel like it was with ill intent.

... Maybe this hearing thing actually needed to be addressed. Maybe we both needed a trip to the doctor's office to tell them we couldn't hear or think properly.

While we're there, I think I'd also like to have him referred to a therapist of sorts. Maybe he could learn how to communicate properly and not run off into the night when he doesn't get laid?

Oh, well-- a girl is allowed to dream. Get a little lost in her head. Sometimes, that's necessary. Especially in moments like these;

I spotted Roman beneath the bleachers with some of his friends, leaning against the metal structure. His hair was styled in the usual heartbreaker style, and the two upper unclasped buttons of his shirt allowed me to glance at the small area of exposed skin-- I spotted the vial of my blood around his neck, and the longer I stood here, I remembered how soft he was to the touch; especially when he was shirtless and on top of me. I hated how I was thinking about him like a dumb cat in heat. Still, I couldn't take my eyes off him; Roman seemed so carefree, laughing with his friends, unaware of how ridiculously handsome he looked.

He should be jailed for walking around looking like that. For life, preferably.

My eyes focused on the way he lazily balanced his cigarette between his fingers, taking slow, careful drags as he listened to his friend talk in the heat of the weather. Now, Roman was as different from yesterday as humanly possible-- I could still see the quiet, retreated version of him he had become last night after the rejection. The one that had practically thrown a fit about not getting laid, which quickly spiraled into what I could only categorize as a mental crisis. Had he been so shocked by getting a no that he had shot himself into existential dread?

And why was his first conclusion that I didn't want him at all?

For a girl who just said she refused to think, I sure did a lot of it. I decided that enough was enough-- I needed to talk to him. Roman was my boyfriend after all, I should be able to do so.

Still, I couldn't remember the last time I felt this small as I made my way towards him, anxiously clearing my throat before I tapped Roman's shoulder. I hadn't managed to put much strength into the tap, and I was almost worried he wouldn't notice me--

One of his friends chimed in with a nasty grin, motioning for Roman to turn around; "Pretty girl, six o'clock,"

Roman turned his head to me, and it was clear that he hadn't expected to see me. His smile fell a little as he pulled his cigarette away from his lips, making sure to exhale upwards and away from my face. I spotted my hair ties around his wrist-- knowing he still wore them gave me a sense of ease. "Hey, sweets," Roman teased, casual as ever. "The catwalk ain't here, you gotta go down to the city center for that."

I rolled my eyes, watching the smug smirk form on his face as the rest of his friends snickered. Why was he acting so... normal? "Rome, we need to talk,"

"Well, fuck," he mumbled, turning to his friends with a playful shimmer in his green eyes. "It seems I'm in trouble, guys." It was as though he was egging them on as they all collectively ooh-ed, his loyal spectators, his royal servants.

I didn't like this side of Roman. Jock-Roman. There were many sides of him I didn't like, actually. Or was it maybe that I didn't like myself for liking him at all? This was becoming more of a mind-fuck than expected. And if we were to play mind games, I knew where to strike; "Roman, either you fucking talk to me like a grown man, or I sit down in Daniel's lap during lunch today. Your choice,"

His head turned towards me with nearly inhuman speed, no trace of any humour on his face anymore. The sudden change was chilling-- I would've shivered, had I not expected it. The oohs only got louder from the group of boys, and I watched Roman's eye twitch as he threw his cigarette down to the floor, stomping it. Still, I didn't break eye contact; I had read somewhere that dogs battled for dominance this way. Since when were Roman and I no better than dogs?

Roman turned to his pack; "Scram," he said, nodding for them to leave.

They were gone within seconds.

He turned to me, a tired look about him. "Talk, then,"

"No," I placed myself before him, watching his green eyes follow me. "That's not how a conversation works. One person says something, and the other one responds. Would you like to try that out, maybe practice a little? It seems you didn't do enough of that in elementary school."

Roman scoffed, rolling his eyes as he stuffed his hands into his front pockets. "How sweet of you,"

"What can I say? I'm patient like that,"

"You'd be good with kids,"

"How great that you're acting like a child, then," I sighed, realizing that I needed a different strategy if I wanted to get anything out of this conversation. For now, Roman remained silent, probably holding back a long string of curses. I took another step forward, and I was immediately embraced by the scent of his cologne. Fuck, how I loved the expensive smell of Roman. Still, I knew I had to get myself together; I let my eyes soften as I looked up at him. "You haven't answered any of my calls or messages... I don't get what's going on in your head. I'm simply trying to understand, but you're just running away. Again."

Roman's eyelids hung heavy over his eyes, lashes fluttering lazily as he met my gaze. He let out a loud sigh; "Maybe I just need space? Did you ever weigh that option?"

"... Do you want space?" This was so damn confusing. "You wanted to be as close as humanly possible last night, though?"

Roman scoffed again-- was it a laugh? He didn't say anything as he looked away, possibly to think. Like this, I spotted the vial again; I let out a relieved breath. To be honest, a part of me was worried he'd take it off.

Finally, he spoke; "I need some time. Time to think,"

"Think about what?" This was making my heart speed up. "Roman, you're worrying me."

He shrugged, still not meeting my gaze. "Just... time. Is that so damn hard to give?"

God, how I hated his tone. Hated the way he spoke to me right now, hated it all. It pushed me to say my deepest fear out loud; "If you're seriously breaking up with me because I didn't want to sleep with you with my parents on the other side of the wall, I sure hope you think very, very carefully,"

"What?" Roman seemed to snap out of it, finally looking at me. His brows were drawn together, confused; "I'm not breaking up with you. Aren't you breaking up with me?"

"What?"

"... What?"

We both looked at each other with bewilderment. It seemed we had both come to very, very different conclusions.

"Roman, I'm not breaking up with you?"

"... Why not?"

"What?!" It felt like my brain was actively melting-- I groaned, rubbing my temples. "What on earth do you mean, why not?"

"I don't know!" Roman's brain seemed to be malfunctioning as well. He kicked off the metal of the bleachers, his mouth opening and closing as he frantically tried to find the right words. His hands were pulled out of his pockets, flailing; "Fuck, I'm confused! I'm gonna-- gonna hyperventilate, so I need to go. Need to-- Yeah, I'm leaving."

I couldn't believe how fast he took off. I hadn't seen anything like that before. Roman wasn't even running, he was simply walking with very, very long steps, and that was enough to be out of reach for me within seconds.

I wanted to scream up at the sky-- what even was that conversation just now? The urge to drive my head into the bleachers became overwhelming, unbearable, but I opted to simply kick the structure instead.

That was a miscalculation on my part. I hissed as the blow to my foot sent jolts of pain up my spine, and I winced as I suppressed the need to jump around on my other foot and look like a clown in the process. I cursed, leaning against the cold metal as I tried to steady my breathing.

This day was not going very well so far.

And it certainly didn't get any better when I heard the shuffling of small footsteps along the grass nearby.

I should've known-- Letha stopped a few steps away from me, her blonde hair moving away from her face with the passing breeze. I blinked through the pain multiple times to make sure it really was her, that she actually had the nerve to walk up to me again. Sadly, I didn't have Roman to hide behind this time. But she looked so sweet with her hands clasped behind her, along with the unsure little tilt back and forth on her feet; "That didn't look very pleasant," Letha mumbled.

I didn't want to entertain this, yet I did. "What, the kick?"

"Well, that too," Letha's trying smile nearly broke my heart. I hated that we didn't know how to talk to each other anymore. "I meant the fight. Is he acting out?"

"... He's not a child, he's not acting out,"

"Didn't you just call him a child?"

"... He's my boyfriend, we're allowed to fight!" I gnarled. "And who the fuck are you to talk to me about this? How much of that conversation did you hear?"

Letha looked like I had just kicked her. "I always do my homework on the bleachers. You guys chose to fight right beneath me,"

Fuck. "You should've moved, then!--"

"It usually helps to dig into what set him off. And then, when you think you have the answer, rip it apart and look through the pieces," Letha's green eyes bore into mine, shimmering with traces of dimmed hope. "I have no idea what you're fighting about, but I've known Roman my whole life. That's how he operates, and... that's all I wanted to say. Hope I can be of some help."

An awkward silence fell over us like a damp blanket-- this was uncomfortable. Nonetheless, I stilled. A part of me recognized that Letha would've been the first to know of my problems with Roman, had we not had a falling out. Had she not iced me out, made me an outcast, turned all my friends against me, and practically shoved me down into the dirt. I would've confided in her, asked her for guidance, support-- I grieved our bond all over again. I gave in, shrugging; "Okay. Thanks,"

That seemed to take a weight off Letha's shoulders. As we stood in silence, simply gazing at one another, until her eyes slowly landed on my necklace. Roman's blood. It dawned on me that it was too late to tuck it beneath my shirt, and I awaited some sort of grief from her about it if she recognized what it was--

"Oh," she breathed. "It makes a little more sense, now."

"What does?"

"If he wears your blood around his neck as well, then it all makes perfect sense,"

"What does, Letha?"

The look she gave me sent a cold set of shivers down my spine. It was ominous, like I had been marked by death. Letha shrugged; "Of course he's... on edge, then,"

The chase was getting frustrating. "Care to go on, or are you just going to keep saying cryptic shit?"

"I can't!-- It's hard to explain!" Letha's shoulders slumped in defeat as her inner turmoil streaked her face. "Just imagine you're really, really broke, but you have a hundred dollar bill hanging around your neck... and under no circumstances can you use it." Her eyes nearly drilled holes into mine. "Would it not drive you crazy?"

Why did it sound like she was insinuating that Roman was a?--

No.

I didn't want to hear this. I didn't bother to give Letha a proper answer before I kicked off the metal of the bleachers, glaring at her as I passed her. "Stay away," I hissed, harshly nudging her shoulder. "Fuck off back to Barbieworld or wherever it is you came from."

As I marched back to the main building, I found it nearly impossible to steady my breathing. My heart was beating rapidly in my chest as I grasped the vial of blood around my neck, rubbing it between my fingers as my mind raced.

It was only when I finally got to class and slumped down on the last free seat that I could think back to last night with a clearer vision than before.

The Avoidable Vampirism - The Upir had kept me up long enough to see the sunrise. I wanted to blame it on the author for writing such a captivating book.

Still, the one thing I hated about literature such as this, was that it never actually said anything straight-forward. It always had to be a nonsense passage with lots of filler words and even more dancing around the actual message;

"Blood's effect on a upir is as much psychological as it is physical. Upirs tend to escalate small arguments in hopes of an eventual physical struggle, a battle that may wound, without properly understanding why. This may lead to a strong sense of insecurity which often settles in the upir's mind and festers, only drawing them forth to the dark road the curse wants them to venture."

That's what was written in the passage about upirs and blood. Nearly impossible to understand, and even further confusing, right? The worst must've been the passage that was written like a self-help book. Did the author seriously think upirs were real?

... Did I?

"And what happens when a upir is exposed to blood, you may ask? There are levels of control which range from person to person. Some may have gotten accustomed to the smell from having cut themselves in earlier years, and some may go into a spiral which is often misdiagnozed as mania in urban psychological trials. But some upirs are so assimilated, they can do experiments with blood or carry vials of it with them wherever they go— which is an inclination that should not be encouraged. The more the upir is around blood in a constant flow, the more the irritation festers, the anger boils, and the innate aggression settles."

And this is where I had to stop. I remember putting the book down to stare at the moon in the distance, wondering why on earth I had fallen into a loophole like this. I couldn't believe how many similarities I could draw between these supposed upirs and my boyfriend-- what did that say about Roman? He was possibly edgier than I had initially thought.

The more I thought about the similarities, the more insane I felt.

... I needed to return this book to the library.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

"The both of you are like two rabid raccoons fighting over scraps in the New York City sewers," Peter grumbled, lazily sweeping the floor with his broom.

I blinked, no longer rolling up cables as I turned to him. "... Do you have to use the craziest metaphors? And why is it always an animal?"

We had been assigned to clean up after an assembly later that same day, a task I had been able to evade up until now. So, when I spotted Peter also being forced to do this, we both huddled up in the corner of the auditorium backstage and started doing the most mundane tasks with the least effort to pass the time. However, it seemed he had been informed of my petty fight (or whatever the hell this was) with Roman, which was why he was back to making animal metaphors again. "Rabid raccoons..." I mumbled, reaching for a new cable to roll up. "Why the New York City sewers? Why raccoons?"

Peter shrugged; "Uh... Because raccoons are cool?"

Well, that's the thing with boys, isn't it-- there's pure static noise in their brains. I sighed, suppressing a chuckle as I continued my task. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure the teacher wasn't catching us slacking off before I turned back to Peter. "Did Roman maybe mention that he thought I was going to break up with him over this?"

"Yeah," Peter also looked over at the teacher just to double check. "I told him it was nonsense, but he's spiraling. He's also gotten obsessed with the idea of joining a raw meat eating contest."

It was impossible not to roll my eyes. Boys. "Seriously, what is up with him these days? Please, bro-code aside, what the fuck is happening?"

I was sure the stupid upir book was the reason my heart jumped when Peter's gaze went straight to my necklace. It almost felt like he was wordlessly trying to hint something-- no, I needed to get this out of my head.

Still, it chimed in my mind like an old clock;

There are even some upirs that are so assimilated, they can do experiments with blood or carry vials of it with them wherever they go— which is an inclination that should not be encouraged.

Should not be encouraged.

Peter's voice snapped me out of it-- "I think he's just going through withdrawal,"

"Withdrawal?" I echoed, turning my full attention towards him. That didn't sound good. "What do you mean, withdrawal? From what? He hasn't stopped smoking, if that's what you're talking about."

It seemed to dawn on Peter that he had said something he shouldn't have. His brown eyes widened and he cleared his throat, no longer sweeping the floor as he stopped in his tracks. "You don't know?"

"... You're killing me here,"

Peter sucked in a sharp breath, nodding to himself in defeat. "I would make you promise not to tell him I told you, but I bet you'll want to talk to him about this, so I won't even bother," His grip around the broom tightened; "So... Roman and I used to do coke together. A lot." When he didn't get a reaction, Peter grew visibly nervous. "It used to be the usual thing at parties. Roman always had a stash, and I'd join in from time to time... And he hasn't had a hit for a while, probably since you two got together, so all of this is probably just a part of the withdrawal."

Oh. I had forgotten about this. I blinked, tilting my head to the side as I gazed up at Peter with furrowed brows. Was that supposed to be a big reveal of sorts? Did he seriously think I didn't know that they used to do drugs? That I hadn't seen the both of them leaning over tables, snorting lines as I passed the room to check whether Roman was in there with a girl or not? This confirmed that they didn't notice me that one time I walked in on them in a bathroom while Roman was making the lines neat with his credit card. "Ah, so that's what that was?"

Peter's eyes widened; "... What?"

"The stuff you two were always snorting," Shrugging, I watched the look on his face distort into one of shock. It hit me that he hadn't known the true depths of how obsessed I used to be with Roman, and that I needed to get myself together before I revealed anything further damning; "Peter, I have a little something called vision. And a brain, for that matter. You guys aren't slick."

"We... aren't?"

It was impossible not to laugh, and I reached forward to nudge his shoulder. "Not in the least," To be honest, I was relieved to hear that Roman was coming off drugs and that my ridiculous upir-suspicions had been untrue. Maybe I could finally put all of that behind me and return the stupid book?

... Please. I was afraid I was going crazy.

He scoffed, moving away to continue sweeping the floors with a grumpy look on his face; "Anyway. That's the only explanation I have for you concerning what's up with him, but it's only an assumption. Maybe you should take a step back and let him come to you when he's done freaking out?" Peter glanced at me, almost as though he was plotting something. "Actually... I think I have the perfect thing to take your mind off this."

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I regretted it the second I said yes, and I regretted it even more right now.

I had never been the biggest fan of parties, mostly because I was used to constantly getting smacked in the face with the truth that Roman was a bit of a whore (an understatement). So as I stood on the front porch with Peter later that night, surrounded by his friends as I listened to them talk about football (I wasn't paying attention, so I wasn't actually sure of the subject), I couldn't help but feel that same dread as before. I knew that Roman was my boyfriend now, that he wasn't upstairs with some random girl at this party, but the smell of alcohol yanked me right back to the memories. Actually, he wasn't even here at all.

Clutching the empty can of my finished drink, I gently yanked at the hem of Peter's sweater to catch his attention. "This isn't helping," I mumbled, meeting his big, brown eyes. "I feel bad being at this party without Roman... If he finds out, he's going to think I'm here to cheat on him or something. He's insane like that."

Peter sighed, rolling his eyes as he pulled me aside from the group. "Look, you need to relax, okay? I have it all under control,"

"You... what?"

His mouth pulled into a straight line, realizing he had said too much. Again. "Remember what I said about Roman not being here?"

Oh no. Peter had watched too many rom-coms. "For fuck's sake," I breathed, feeling my heart speed up. "Please don't say you told the both of us to come here?"

As annoying as the situation already was, Peter only made it worse by grinning in my face. He shrugged, brushing the severity off; "Last time I saw him, he was playing beer-pong,"

I was two seconds away from wrapping my fingers around Peter's neck and strangling him to death. "So Roman is running around this party drunk, and maybe also high on coke again while he's ignoring me?" Now, I was even closer to ripping my hair out of my follicles; "Oh, what an amazing idea this was, Peter! What a genius you are, this is just fantastic!"

Peter huffed, placing a condescending hand on my shoulder, squeezing it. "He's not high, okay? Just go find him, preferably before he falls over in the pool. I've let him marinade for long enough."

I grimaced-- "Marinade?" I needed to learn to stop trying to decrypt whatever Peter was saying. It never made sense, anyway. "First of all, fuck you. And second..." I took a deep breath, realizing what I was about to do; "... Wish me luck."

My head started pounding to the same rhythm as the song blasting through the speakers when I made my way inside and waded through the crowd. I hated that I was in this situation in the first place, hated that I hadn't spoken to my boyfriend in about twenty-four hours, but most of all...

I hated Roman Godfrey.

I hated the way he made me feel, hated how crazy I had become in my pursuit of him, hated, hated, hated him. However, amid my rage storm, I got a whiff of the scent of cinnamon cigarettes-- that brought me out of the inferno. I could recognize that, mixed with Roman's cologne, anywhere. I instinctively turned, realizing I had passed by the door to the kitchen, and I could be sure my eyes nor sense of smell were deceiving me as I now stood frozen, staring up at my boyfriend's broad shoulders.

Roman's back was turned to me, but I could see that he was playing another round of beer-pong with a couple of friends scattered around the table. He hadn't noticed me, and I made sure he wouldn't. Still, the one person that caught my eye, was the girl by the counter next to where Roman was standing. I hid my body around the corner, peeking in past the door to catch another glimpse of the girl--

Fuck. It was Jessica. The girl Roman had flirted with to make me jealous the same day I told Letha I had feelings for him. Everything about her made me sick; the way she was dangling her long legs off the counter, staring up at him with literal hearts in her eyes, and how she twirled her blonde hair around her pinky as she tried to catch his attention with multiple calls of his name.

Roman seemed calm, unbothered, until he finally acknowledged her with an annoyed hum. It was only when he turned to face her, having just finished his turn in the game, that I saw that he was now pulling a cigarette out of his signature red box. I let out a shaky sigh of relief as I spotted my hair ties still hanging around his wrist, but I didn't get much time with my comfort before Jessica spoke up.

Her voice was so painfully nasal; "So are you really seeing her?"

Roman's brows drew together as he balanced a cigarette between his slender fingers. God, how I missed his hands on me. "Who?"

Jessica said my name, followed by a pout. "If it's true, then that's really fucking unexpected. I have English lit with her, and she doesn't seem like your type,"

Had I not been desperate to hear Roman's answer, I would've grabbed the nearby lamp and bashed her head in-- alcohol didn't seem to have the best effect on my thoughts tonight. Still, Roman didn't react much, now patting down his pockets for his lighter. "Yeah, I'm seeing her. She's my girl,"

She's my girl. It echoed in my head over and over. My girl.

However, Jessica didn't seem too pleased with this revelation. She rolled her eyes, letting go of her hair; "She's not even a cheerleader,"

"And? I'm tired of you lot,"

"Romie, come on!" The nickname nearly made me puke in my mouth, effectively wiping my smile off my face. I watched as Jessica proceeded to reach out and put a hand on his arm, pursing her lips like a dumb fucking bimbo-- "I don't think a girl like that could handle you... sexually."

Ew! I wanted to slam my head against the door. Would that relieve the pain of hearing this conversation?

But Jessica continued; "Everyone knows she's been crazy about you for some time now. Everyone except Letha knew, actually, but that girl is more gullible than a lamb! But you must be aware that your girlfriend thinks you walk on water? You're dating the epitome of your fucking stalker. But does that turn you on, maybe?"

Roman blinked twice before brushing Jessica's hand off with a silent scoff (finally). He found his lighter in his back pocket, lighting his cigarette as he rolled his eyes. "Shut your filthy whore mouth," he grumbled, cig sitting between his lips. When he was done lighting it, he held the lighter out dangerously close to Jessica's face-- "I'll burn your disgusting extensions right off."

She didn't seem too phased by it on the outside, but I could see the slight tremble in her hands as she now gripped the counter. Was this how Roman talked to other girls? How had I not noticed this before? "No need," Jessica said, gulping. "I can see you're taking her... seriously." She cleared her throat, letting out a shaky breath as Roman moved away. Jessica didn't have much time with her usual clean air before he blew the smoke from his cigarette in her face, and she quickly fell into a coughing fit.

I realized what I was watching when Roman smiled with evil glee at the sight of her pain. The version of Roman he used to be. It felt like I had opened a portal back to two months ago, before anything between us had happened and he was running around stabbing people with needles to get a rush.

"Of course I'm taking her seriously," Roman said, letting the cigarette rest between his lips. "I actually like her this time, unlike anything I've ever felt for you. She's sweet, and you're like... maggots crawling out from the depths of hell compared to her."

... Ouf.

Jessica didn't seem to be taking this very well. Her blue eyes hardened, traces of tears welling up in her eyes as her grip on the counter tightened to the point where her knuckles started to whiten-- "You're lovely tonight, as always," she mumbled, hurt. Her voice grew bitter; "But where is your girl, then? Did you leave her at home to come here alone?

Roman exhaled the smoke through his nose with one quick breath, turning to his friends when they called his name. He was thrown the beer-pong ball, and he effectively ignored Jessica's questions to play his turn in the game.

His lack of answers seemed to give her hope that he might stray. Jessica sat forward on the counter, drying any traces of welled-up tears as she lit up. "Oh, Romie," she purred-- I nearly threw up in my mouth again. "It's nice to see you don't change."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Roman turned to her, brows drawn together.

Jessica sighed, once again reaching out to rest her hand on his bicep. The worst part was when she gave it a little squeeze and her eyes locked on him-- fuck. "One girl will never be enough for you. You're aware of that, right?" She moved further to the edge of the counter (could she not fall off already?), batting her lashes; "If you're here tonight because you're not satisfied, I know a few ways to... satisfy you."

That was it. This was sickening. Had I not been so nervous to hear Roman's response, I would've lunged forward and slammed her empty head down to the floor. However, I could only press my body against the wall I was hiding behind, listening to the dampening of my breath as my heart thumped harshly against my ribs-- this was torture. This was complete and utter torture.

I'm waiting for you unbearably.

Unbearably.

This was unbearable.

It felt as though my chest was caving in on itself, threatening to make me a ball of nothing again, until Roman finally moved; gripping Jessica's hand with two fingers, he removed her off of him as though he was disgusted to even be touching her. "Are you maybe a little hard of hearing? Perhaps you hit your head really hard when you were younger, I have no idea, but I'll make it nice and comprehensible for you, okay?" He exhaled another cloud of smoke, fogging up Jessica's face as he leaned in dangerously close, lowering his voice as he spoke; "I don't want you or your cheerleaders, and I never will again. Never."

I was two seconds away from fainting out of sheer happiness-- my cheeks reddened. This was everything I had ever hoped to hear from him, and my anxieties floated out of my body with my next sigh of relief. I was ready to step into the kitchen and save Roman from this situation, hoping he'd be happy to see me now that he'd had this conversation about his feelings for me, but my plans were abruptly stopped when I heard a familiar voice call out my name.

My anxiety zapped itself right back into me as I froze to my spot, waiting for the wall to swallow me whole, never to be seen again. No, no, no!

I could only watch as Daniel approached me, giddy as ever with a beer in his hand. Were the Gods above playing tricks on me, perhaps? It was clear that he was drunk, and he tried to get his blonde hair out of his eyes repeatedly as he now stood before me, a broad grin on his face. "Well, don't you look nice,"

Why was he speaking so loudly? I was afraid Roman would hear and come out to check if his suspicions were correct. "Thanks," I mumbled, anxiously wavering back and forth on my feet as I pondered whether to flee or not. "Look, Daniel, you shouldn't--"

"What, talk to you?" He leaned down a little, his mood immediately shifting as he said my name once more like venom. It was clear in his eyes that he had come up to me with an argument in mind. "Don't tell me the rumours are true and you're actually with that guy?"

Oh, how little I wanted to have this conversation. I so desperately didn't want to. Not with Roman at hearing distance. "Yeah, I am,"

Daniel snorted, rolling his eyes as he pulled back with a pretentious chuckle. With the way he was swaying, I could see that he'd had at least five beers or so. It explained the disgusting ramble of words that ensued; "Shit... Didn't think you were brainless like that. You're just a dumb fucking slut just like the rest of them, aren't you? Can't believe I ever thought you were different... Nice guys truly finish last, don't they?"

Nice? I grimaced. Did this guy genuinely think he was nice? I was shocked to realize I even thought so of him at one point. My lips parted in shock; I hadn't heard him talk like this before. This was nauseating. Still, I knew I had to snap back-- I was about to speak up, protect myself unlike how I had handled myself during the whole Letha-mess, but I didn't get a chance to.

I didn't even have to look to know who was now standing in the door to the kitchen, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. Roman's eyes narrowed, locking in on Daniel's with a chilling look; "What did you just say to her?" he said, voice low, dangerous.

Daniel's smirk was immediately wiped off his face. "Fuck-- Fuck off, Godfrey. This is none of your business,"

"None of my business?" Roman echoed, tilting his head to the side as he feigned confusion. "Nah, that's not how this is gonna go down." He stepped away from the door, nearing Daniel with threatening steps. "You get a little drunk, and suddenly forget you fucking crumble at the sight of me? You're shaking, Goldman, but you have balls enough to insult my girl?"

Now that Roman had pointed it out, I immediately saw it. Daniel's hand had a slight tremble as he clutched the can of beer harder with his next words; "You know she could do so much better than you, right?"

I held my breath, watching Roman's every movement. At this point, I was scared Daniel had hit too big of a homerun on that insult.

I wondered when Roman would-- oh, there it was. With one last step forward, he managed to yank Daniel forward with a choking grip around the collar of his shirt. I felt my breath escape me with a gasp, unsure whether to intervene or not. "Roman, don't!--"

It was too late. Roman wasn't hearing me. Selective hearing. "If you wanna go, Goldman, then we're gonna go!" he raged, tightening his grip as he yanked Daniel forward like a ragdoll. "Don't be a fucking pussy, fight me if you're so keen on walking around with a black eye!"

I was both mortified and scared as I watched Daniel's face turn a peculiar shade of purple. I had never seen such a prominent look of fear in my life. His hands were clawing at Roman's as he sputtered incoherent squeaks, and after five seconds too long, Daniel was let out of the death grip. It took even less time for him to sprint out of our sight.

Roman turned to me, brows still drawn together in fury. He was catching his breath, and he was not yet out of fight mode when he practically barked at me; "And since when have you been at this stupid party?!"

"Ask Peter!" I squeaked. "It was his plan, all of it! He wanted us to talk!" Watching the confusion spread in Roman's green eyes, I cleared my throat before I continued; "Actually, I want us to talk as well... Could we please just?--"

Within a split second, he was gone. Gone. I stood by the wall, lips parting in complete and utter confusion-- how had he managed to disappear like that? Run off like that? Suddenly, my mind shot in a passage from The Avoidable Vampirism;

The classic traits of a upir:

Enhanced strength

Heightened senses

Mesmerization

Unnatural speed

-- No, stop it! I had to physically smack my head to snap out of it this time. Roman wasn't a fucking upir, he was just in withdrawal as Peter said!

... Right?

The alcohol was certainly not helping my state right now.

As I stood glued to the wall like the biggest wallflower known to man, I pondered the question that had haunted me all day; why was Roman so scared to talk to me? After I had heard how he spoke of me to Jessica, and how he had just called me his girl to Daniel along with the whole fight for my honour, it surely couldn't be a question of his feelings towards me?

This seemed to be an evening of many flashbacks; Letha's words were suddenly ringing in my ears-- "It usually helps to dig into what set him off. And then, when you think you have the answer, rip it apart and look through the pieces,"

... Fine. Let's start.

What had set him off? It was clearly that I didn't want to sleep with him last night, right?

Okay-- Now I had to rip it apart and look through the pieces.

"Aren't you breaking up with me?" he'd asked earlier today. Roman seemed genuinely confused that I wasn't there to dump him. Had he really expected me to discard of him so quickly over a simple miscommunication?

Then it hit me that Roman might be crazy enough to have avoided me all along because he thought the next conversation would be the one where I'd finish the job.

With a loud groan, I started my search around the party. Idiot! I was going to find this man no matter what. If I had to pin him down and scream some sense into him, so be it.

He wasn't downstairs— I could exclude that after a quick swipe of the floor. I somehow managed to make my way through the dense crowd on the stairs, now checking every room. To be honest, I was terrified of walking in on something I didn't want to see, but a tiny part of me thought it might even be good for me to see just a snippet-- I didn't know much about real sex, anyway. Still, I let out a relieved sigh when I scoured all the rooms without having violated my vision.

But my relief didn't last long. I allowed my shoulders to slump as I came to a halt, realizing I had circled the upper floor with no trace of him. The deafening music was starting to hurt my ears, and I was about to cover them when I suddenly heard a loud bang coming from the closet to my right followed by a breathy, angry shit.

Oh my. Gotcha. I approached the door with careful steps, holding back a beaming smile as I knocked twice; "Roman...?"

I heard him shuffling around, a short groan following; "... Nope,"

It took a lot of concentration to not burst out into a fit of laughter. It felt as though all my anger left my body, unable to concentrate on anything other than how ridiculously cute he was when he was drunk like this. "Can I come in?"

"... That's what he said,"

"Come in? I think you might've gotten it a little twisted,"

I could almost hear him rolling his eyes; "Who are you to argue, virgin?"

Enough was enough. With a small creak, I opened the door to the closet--

Oh.

This was certainly not the sight I expected to see. Roman's green eyes immediately found mine, big with embarrassment. There he was, splayed out on the floor of the tiny closet with a hot pink crop top on his head. I assumed it had landed on him after he fell over, and I tried to take a mental image for later amusement.

I was about to laugh-- However, as I closed the door behind me and stared down at Roman's flushed face, almost the same colour as the ridiculous pink crop top, I just melted. Easy as that. All the pent-up anger, all the frustration I wanted to take out on him, it all liquified into molten lava and became one with the earth.

What a mess he was. What an absolute, utter mess. Roman's green eyes were big, huge even, as he stared up at me, his breath coming out in small, ragged heaves. He looked terrified of my next words, like he was bracing for a good verbal beating--

I crouched down, making space between his long legs that practically took up the whole closet. With careful movements, I pulled the crop top off his head and cupped his pretty face; "Rome," I cooed. "You thought I was going to break up with you?"

It felt like I was talking to a child. I was aware I risked Roman exploding on me for taking that tone with him, but I figured he was too drunk to really sense it. "Yeah," he breathed, keening against my touch. "Makes sense that you'd want to."

Fuck, he was unbearably cute, like a lost little puppy. "No, it doesn't," I murmured. Why was it so hard for him to understand? "I'm not breaking up with you. Is that why you've been avoiding me today? Were you worried I was going to do that?"

Almost like a child, Roman nodded. "I just... don't want to lose you. But I fucked up again," he whispered, practically pouting. "I was so mean. Last night and today."

I stroked my thumb over his cheek, watching his response to my attempts at comfort. Something told me he hadn't been held like this before. "Roman... You're not losing me any time soon, and you were obviously a little hurt too. I guess it's a... vulnerable thing to initiate. You're allowed to feel what you feel,"

"But it was wrong,"

"What was?"

"My feelings," he mumbled. "It's just-- I'm not used to caring about a girl like this. Previously, if I didn't get my way, I could leave with no repercussions. But this time, it hit me about ten minutes later on the highway that this was you and not some random girl. You. And I was just so consumed with the urge to... ugh, I don't want to say it out loud, but you know. It gets unbearable at times. I haven't wanted anyone like this before, I just don't know how the fuck to behave!"

I was sure my cheeks were burning. Holy fuck. "Ah... I see," My knees got tired from crouching, so I sat down on the little free space left on the floor. "Look, your feelings aren't wrong. They never are. Your feelings are your feelings. But what I don't get is that I told you I wasn't up for... sex simply because my parents were on the other side of the wall. I would totally be up for it if they weren't. Did you not register that, maybe?"

"I don't know, but... it's not really about the sex. I guess it got me wondering whether you're just a little shy, or if you secretly don't want to be with me anymore," Roman took my hands into his before his gaze shied away. His voice lowered into a barely audible whisper as he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the nearby wall; "You didn't once say you wanted me too. I guess I just concluded you didn't want me at all."

I fought the instinct to freeze. I saw his point, recognized his anxiety (and severe attachment issues), yet I needed to point out one very simple truth; "But... I'm crazy about you. You know I want you,"

"No, I don't," he breathed. "You make me feel like a fucking rapist."

"A... What?!" I gave his hands a harsh squeeze-- "Roman, what are even you saying?"

He scoffed, eyeing me with his head still leaning against the wall. Hiccuping from all the alcohol, he spoke; "I'm always on you like a fucking dog in heat. You never initiate, and I'm constantly worrying whether I'm taking advantage or not. And to make that clear, that's not what I want to do,"

All of this was beyond shocking to hear. Was this maybe also the supposed withdrawal speaking? "Rome, you're not taking advantage. Not at all! I'm just... shy, I guess?" I brought one of his hands up to my mouth, pressing my lips against his knuckles. "I never thought you needed to hear me say it too. I'm sorry."

Surprisingly, Roman pouted-- "Say it, then," he whined. Had he been standing, I was sure he'd stomp his foot like a toddler.

I couldn't help but smile. I liked whiny-drunk Roman. "Say what, Rome?"

"Spit it out,"

"Would you stop running away from me then?"

"... Yes,"

I took a deep breath, suppressing a nervous giggle. Roman's green eyes drilled into me, holding me still as I tried to find the courage to say it to his face. It was nearly impossible, and I felt my cheeks flush a rather peculiar shade of pink, similar to Roman's alcohol-flush. And also the hot pink crop top. I was definitely stealing that one.

I let go of Roman's hands, crawling over to straddle his lap. My arms draped around his neck, and he shifted as he looked up at me with those gorgeous, green eyes of his. My Roman. "You already know I'm crazy about you,"

"Yeah, you tree-carving freak,"

"Hey!" Now, it was impossible not to laugh. Thankfully, he laughed with me. "But sure, I'll take it. I carved our initials into a tree, and I'd do it all over again. And you know why?"

Roman's eyes practically sparkled; "Why?"

I lowered my face to hover right above his, feeling his hot breath against my parted lips. "Because I crave you. Carnally," I whispered, watching his pupils rapidly widen. "What am I if not yours? Yours to take, yours to claim, yours to... fuck."

Roman's signature smirk was back, shinier than ever. "Now, now, don't be shy with it," he purred, his arms snaking around my waist to pull me flush against him. "Say more."

Fucking hell. There was certainly no space to hold back any longer. "Yeah, you want more?" I had to bite back a smirk of my own. "Don't be a fucking brat, then. Kiss me if you do."

Roman's eyes widened, not expecting me to say anything remotely close to that. Still, his lips parted as his smirk morphed into a blinding grin. With one smooth move, he ran one hand up into my hair, pulling me in for the shortest, sweetest kiss known to man. "I'm impatient," he said. "Go on."

"Brat," It felt nice to finally say that out loud. From the first time I had a proper conversation with him, that word had been stuck in my mind.

Roman rolled his eyes, letting me laugh into the needy kiss that followed. It didn't take long before I melted, relishing in the soft pillows of his lips against mine, the feeling I had longed for ever since he stormed off my roof last night. "I want you," I said, mouthing my words into the kiss. "So bad. So, so bad."

Roman moaned-- "More,"

My hands went up into his hair, fingers reaching for the tips of his dark locks to press him further against me as the kiss deepened. I had never felt this desperate before in my life. Still, I somehow found the strength to pull away; I got an idea. "No. We're playing a little game first,"

Roman groaned, glaring at me as he rested his head against the wall. "For fuck's sake," he mumbled. "Now?"

"Now," I placed my hands on his chest, unable to hold my laugh. My little idea was genius. "Have you noticed where we are?"

"... At a party?"

"Where?"

"In a closet?--" Roman's words came to a halt as his eyes widened, and a knowing grin spread across his plush lips. "Oh my."

I hummed, pressing my fingers into his chest. Right now, I was sure I had adopted the classic Roman-smirk; "Up for a round of seven minutes in heaven?"

"... Isn't it a little blasphemous to play without the bottle?" Roman proceeded to laugh, rubbing circles into my thighs. "Actually, fuck yeah. I’m up for it.”

"Seven minutes," I purred, grabbing my phone and putting on a timer. "You once said that seven minutes with you were enough to show everything I needed to know about being with you in that way..."

To be honest, I had no idea what had come over me. Was it perhaps the alcohol? But the intrigue shimmering in Roman's keen eyes told me all I needed to know-- I watched his pupils expand as the hands I had rested against his chest started traveling down his body. And Jessica thought I couldn't handle him sexually? Hah! "It seems it's my turn to show how it would be with me, no?"

Roman's lips parted, staring up at me in disbelief; "If you're just teasing me now, I'm going to die on the spot. I swear. My death will be on your hands,"

I could only laugh, biting down on my lip to lower my voice. "Don't you dare," I said, slowly reaching for the clasp of his belt.

Watching the widening of Roman's big, green eyes never failed to amuse me, especially not now. "Baby," he breathed, his lips curving into a smile. "Don't fuck with me, I swear--"

"Am not," After unbuckling Roman's belt, I decided to tease him by trailing my hands away from the zip of his pants, my fingers ghosting over his hard-on. It seemed the excitement was getting to him already, and to my surprise, I could feel him hardening beneath my palms.

The loud music was so far away now, just as everything else was-- My mind was even further away, possibly residing on the planet Neptune, because how the hell had I managed to convince myself I knew how to do this?

Fuck it-- it can't be that hard, right?

Certainly not harder than Roman was now, anyway.

This was an enigma to me, all of it. I could only go off instinct; and just as I was about to slide my hand beneath the band of his boxers, Roman grabbed my hand. "Hold on," he breathed, bringing my palm to his lips. "Step one is to never go anywhere dry." His green eyes locked on mine, not breaking eye contact as he placed several wet kisses against my palm, slicking it. Shivers ran down my spine as I felt his tongue swipe along my skin, because fuck, this was intense-- my breath hitched. Roman's soft laugh rang in my ears as he let go of my hand, giving back the control.

Fuck. My heart was pounding. Were my hands shaking? I had no idea-- it felt as though I had blacked out for a few seconds, and when Roman pulled me into a heated kiss and brought me back to my senses, my fingers were gently brushing against the hard tip of his cock.

I could feel Roman's breath hitch just slightly against my lips, and it immediately made my cheeks burn. What the fuck was I doing? I so desperately hoped no one would walk in on us like this, me straddling him with his dick in my hand. That would certainly only taint my reputation further-- no, actually, fuck that. I wanted to stay connected like this forever, Roman's soft lips moving against mine with a need I didn't remember in him.

It took a lot of willpower to break the kiss even just for a second, but it was too damn fucking dark in this stupid closet. I watched as Roman's lashes fluttered, how his chest raised in heaving motions, how the vial of my blood rested against the peak of his sternum-- I decided to go for the wish to kiss him right there.

Roman's skin was so unbelievably soft. There was no flavour to it as I swiped my tongue against his collarbone, not even a trace of alcohol from his perfume, and this was the moment it dawned on me that this might be my favourite place to kiss him. I didn't often have access, but when I did, I could feel the soft raise of his shoulders with his every breath-- and fuck, how I loved his shoulders. I finally wrapped my fingers around his length, deciding not to toy with him any longer.

He let out a shaky breath just as I sucked down on his collarbone to leave a mark; Roman was long gone now. His head lolled to the side, his breath escaping him with a short huff. "Fuck," he whispered, bringing his hand up to twist into the nape of my neck, pulling me away from him to press the soft pillows of his mouth against mine in another hot, needy kiss.

This was certainly a big difference to the last time we had played this game. We had barely kissed properly, and our lips had only grazed each other compared to whatever this was. I couldn't believe how unbelievably scared I had been the first time.

I smiled into the kiss, remembering our first.

Roman cursed against my lips, his hips bucking just slightly into my grip around his cock. With his free hand, he placed his on top of mine, guiding me to pick up my pace.

I realized my heart was almost thumping to the exact same pace as the music downstairs-- "Is this okay?" I whispered, relishing in the short breaths of pleasure spilling from his mouth.

Roman shot me a look, although it didn't look as intimidating as he probably intended; with his lids halfway closed, the hunger for me shone through. "You know damn well,"

It was impossible not to smile. God, I was so crazy about this man. "Rome?"

A hum.

I leaned in closer, pressing a sweet kiss against his ear; "I want you so bad," I whispered, feeling his breath hitch as I kissed down his jaw. "I need you to know that. Rome, I always want you." Never in a million years did I think I'd ever see him like this, panting beneath me, pre-cum spilling from the slit of his cock. Never in my wildest dreams. But he had driven me near mad with his stupidity these past twenty-four hours, so I had no problem bringing him down to the depths of vulnerability with me-- finally, we had switched places.

Roman's hands traveled up my thighs, giving my ass a proper squeeze as he groaned just slightly; "Want you too," he breathed, letting his head rest against the wall as I worked my digits around his length. His lips parted, his eyes shut as his lashes fluttered just slightly; "Always. Always want— hah, want you. You know me."

Had I not been so taken with the sheer beauty of him right now, I would've swooned. I was shocked I hadn't fainted from how hard my heart was beating, anyway. "I adore you, Rome. Do you know that?"

A small yeah was Roman's only reply, his head rolling back and forth, thighs clenching, cock twitching. He was close. His next words were rushed, quick; "Fuck, where do I...? Fuck--"

"Don't think about it," I murmured, my free hand running gently through his hair. Slowly, I reached for the pink crop top nearby; this was my only solution at the moment. "Just enjoy."

Roman practically whimpered; "Shit, shit, gonna--"

I watched as he threw his head back, panting hard as he spilled into the top. I felt his warm cum running down the inside of it as I stroked him through his high. "Fuck, fuck--" Roman was rambling at this point, failing to steady his breath through it.

My lips parted, feeling as though I had bitten into the forbidden fruit. The image before me gave me a high, unlike anything I had ever had before. It was probably similar to the feeling Roman used to achieve through cocaine use. I took another quick mental snapshot, knowing this was a sight I wanted to keep for later-- only in case of emergencies, of course. I couldn't help but feel a little proud that I had figured out how to do this stuff to him.

Roman blinked twice, his mind slowly returning to his body. He laughed a little at the sight of the hot pink crop top, shaking his head. "Damn," he breathed. "I'm a little horrified I didn't last seven minutes."

Oh, silly boy-- "Nah, I'm glad you didn't. My hand would be cramping up," I leaned forward with a soft giggle, kissing the tip of Roman's nose as he let out a sigh of relief. "And I also proved my damn point."

He blinked up at me as I pulled away. "Which was...?"

The timer rung-- "Seven minutes are more than enough,"

"Right. That's my line," Roman tucked himself back into his jeans with a huff, laughing softly in a state of denial. "Definitely didn't expect this tonight... Good job." The corners of his mouth slowly curved upwards as he placed a sweet kiss against my cheek. "I'm just so damn glad we're not breaking up."

I had forgotten about that situation for a few minutes, and being reminded of it again was like being slapped out of a nap. "Of course we're not, Roman," I kissed the tip of his nose as I rolled up the crop top-- that felt wrong on all accounts. "If you get all manic about something like that again, please don't shut me out. I nearly went mad."

Roman's pupils dilated further as he reached for the vial of my blood around his neck, twirling it around his finger. "Yeah, we can't break up... Or else that poor tree would've been vandalized for nothing,"

I rolled my eyes. He was never going to let that go, was he? "Alright, that's enough," I mumbled, watching as Roman brought the vial to his lips to press a short kiss against my blood-- it felt odd but intimate. Was he maybe still a little drunk? "Let's get you home, okay? I'll drive your car." With shaky steps, I got up from his lap, bunching up the crop top in one hand.

Roman hiccuped-- drunk. It was confirmed. "I don't want to," he whined.

"Come on, Rome, we can't stay in this cramped up fucking closet all night!--"

"Well, what are you gonna do? Throw me over your shoulder and carry me downstairs?"

For fuck's sake. It was impossible not to laugh at that mental image. "We can't stay here any longer! Peter's gonna think we're fucking somewhere, and I certainly don't want to be known as the girl that has sex at parties!--"

"My mom is out of town," Roman said, effectively cutting me off. "Sleep over."

My eyes widened. I knew what that meant. Clutching the damp crop top in my hand, I felt the green of his gaze swallow me whole; "Come on. It'll be fun," Roman got up from the floor, tilting his head a little as he slowly inched forward, making my back hit the wall with the two only steps there were possible to take in this closet. He continued; "Nothing has to happen, but I just... I want to roll around in bed with you in the morning. No interruptions, no parents, nothing. Just us."

I was shocked I didn't become a puddle of mush on the floor. "Just us?"

"Just us," Roman breathed, leaning down to press a short kiss against my lips. But what came next was unexpected; "... And my pet tarantula."

"What?!"

Roman only laughed, his pupils widening with pleasure at the sight of my terror. Some things never change. "Just kidding, baby," he purred, placing a hand on the small of my back as he opened the closet door. And before I had the chance to properly step out of it, he leaned down to whisper against my ear; "It's actually a giant centipede. Lovely pet."

I nearly squirmed out of his grip, shivering. "Please tell me you're joking!"

Seriously, when will I ever learn? Roman continued to laugh, waving to a few people who passed us by in the corridor as we walked down the hall. "Of course I am,"

"I'm not leaving with you if you have some creepy animal there, I swear!"

"Fine, fine!" He kissed the top of my head, and I felt him smile against my hair. "There are no scary animals there... Just me."

Before I had the opportunity to answer, Roman groaned loudly as he glanced at the crowded stairs when we approached, rolling his eyes. "Ugh, why do people always crowd the goddamn stairs?" He turned back to me; "I just need to find Peter and swipe my keys--"

"Why does he have your keys?"

"... I was threatening to jam them into the side of this guy's head earlier, but that's not important," Roman shot me a charming smile as though he hadn't just said that. "But just hold onto me, okay? I'll wade us through."

So that's what I did; I clutched onto Roman's hand, feeling his long fingers wrapping around mine as he made way through the crowd, occasionally turning to greet a few people he knew. I was so damn ready to get to his place, to lie down on a bed, and get away from this loud music. Still, a part of me knew we wouldn't be able to stay away from each other tonight, and I felt my chest swell with warmth at the thought of what might happen. What would happen.

But just as I was finally relaxed again and the two of us almost made it down the stairs, I felt another hand on my shoulder the same second Roman turned away to say hi to a friend of his. I turned, gasping just slightly at the shock of a cold touch, and the rest of my breath followed as it dawned on me who I was facing.

Letha's green eyes were wide, almost as though she had seen a ghost. For a second there, I thought she could read my mind and understand why I was clutching onto a damp crop top. It was still warm-- why was I finding that hot right now? God, I was going insane. But I knew that the sight of Roman and I together would never be a pleasant one for Letha, so I stared back at her with the same bewilderment-- why had she stopped me?

Letha's following words were almost icy to the touch, hollow to the ear; "Was I right?"

It felt as though my world stilled. Time stilled. Just for a second, I felt as though I could wade my free hand through the coldness of her phrase, and I could wave away the mirage. She was concerned, curious. Had she genuinely wanted to help me get through this fight with Roman?

I realized that tonight might be a night of many firsts. My first handjob, my first... time (possibly), and my first step of forgiveness. "Yeah," I breathed. "You were. Thank you."

Letha's face softened as a relieved sigh escaped her, nodding her head slowly. It had been a long time since the last time she had heard those words from me. "Any time,"

Had Roman not squeezed my hand, I was sure I'd continue standing there, just staring into the eyes of my previous best friend. They looked so, so similar-- Had Letha not been blonde, I would've mistaken them for siblings. Snapping out of it, I turned to my boyfriend who was too busy scowling at his cousin to notice how calm I was about meeting her. "Let's go," he mumbled, repressed jealousy dripping from his voice as another squeeze of my fingers ensued.

"Yeah... Let's,"

(a/n: thank you so so much for reading!!! here's PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, and PART 10 if you're interested<333 mwah!!)

tagging those that seemed interested!!<333

@mentallyscreamingsincebirth @putherup @corawithfanfiction @vladsgirlxx

@iamaslytherin0 @sexualparkour @the-universe-is-complicated @heavenly-bratt

@lafemme-nk @namiusedbubble @useyourwandbro @strmborns @literally-lani

@virgosapphire79 @star-girl-04 @veyzus @ddipotassium @pecxiebu

@mil88691 @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @katifefe @sn0wybowie-blog

@moochiester @zizuras @blackbluerose666 @rosecoloureddudez

#roman godfrey #hemlock grove #roman godfrey x reader #x reader #bill skarsgård #fanfiction #oneshot #bill skarsgard #angst #fanfic #highschool!au #hemlock grove fanfiction #bruhhh there is so much information in this chapter i'm so sorry #and i'm sorry about the crop top #actually no i'm not #thank you all for being so patient with me!!!#ily<3

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godmadeaterribleerror · 1 month ago

Text

More Than You Could Ever Know - Part 1

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: On god they're about to be so cute. This was going to be one chapter but they can't stop fucking and I can't stop writing. Enjoy!

Title from All I Want For Christmas is You by Mariah Carey

Word Count: 8.5k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: A No Love Lost Christmas Special! Takes place about five months after the end of No Love Lost, sort of an epilogue to the main story.

The Boys start Secret Santa, Ben pretends to do his job. Usual Warnings, plus smut. Much fluff and smut.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, tooth rotting fluff, smut (fingering, oral f receiving, p in v sex), established relationship, Christmas Special

Part 2

Read on A03!

Doing this in Butcher’s apartment was a terrible idea, because the asshole only cleans when it’s his weekend with Ryan, and you’re right on the wrong end of that. Doing it immediately after work was a worse one, because you’re in heels and a too tight bra that you’re not allow to rip off, throw in Ben’s face, giggling when he all but tackles you into bed.

Doing it without Ben here to smile and pout and snark at might be the worst idea you’ve ever had.

And you’ve had a lot of remarkably fucking terrible ideas.

You’re not really paying attention to your friends around you, because you’re staring at your phone. Turning it around between your hands, waiting for Ben’s text to let you know Ryan’s home from school. That he’s not being bullied, and he’s doing his homework, and his powers didn’t cause what the principal had referred to as structural damage to the school’s foundation, and what Ben had correctly said was just a fucking accident. It’s not Ryan’s fault you pussies put the baseball field right next to the goddamn building.

There haven’t been any incidents since then—Ben had taken Ryan to a large, empty field and helped him figure out how to not turn a ball into a genuine weapon—but it’s still a delicate situation. It took a lot to get Ryan into a public school. A lot of promises of Ryan won’t hurt anyone, you fucking pussies, he’s not a damn baby, and bargains of Ben and I will donate, and go to all the fundraisers, but you’re not allowed to explicitly advertise that Ryan’s here, and many, many thinly veiled threats of if you don’t treat our son like a proper fucking human, I’ll let my wife yell at you. And she’ll rip you to fucking pieces.

You wouldn’t have ripped anyone to pieces. Literal pieces. Emotional pieces had been on the table, as had reputational pieces. It was one of the very few advantages of being so highly and strangely regarded as the woman who killed Homelander and the founder of the Soldier Boy Relief Foundation. People respected you and your opinion, which was an interesting choice on their part, but served you well. Ryan had gotten into the school, and he seemed to be liking it, so you hadn’t even been that mad at Ben for threatening the superintendent.

But you also don’t really get mad at Ben. Not ever. You whack his arms and wrinkle your nose and elbow his gut, but he always feels that you don’t mean it, and you never fight him when he tugs you into his arms and kisses you breathless and dizzy. When he mutters promises about fucking you stupid later, and calls you a brat, and chuckles when you grind onto his thigh in the middle of the office, and you miss him so much-

It’s barely been six fucking hours, Sunshine.

You scowl into the air, even as your whole body sings from the feeling of Ben, strong and deep and flaring in your chest. Shut up, you’re supposed to be picking up Ryan-

Already got him. We’re home.

You were supposed to text me, Benjamin-

Why, I’m telling you right fucking now-

Because Singer’s still on our ass. You sigh, tapping your fingers on the back of your phone. And the Ben’o’phone isn’t admissible in a court of law to prove we’re well-suited parents.

Singer can shove it up his fucking dick-

Ben, please- You cut yourself off as your phone buzzes, the screen lighting up with a message.

Benjamin; Stupid fucking handsome asshole husband

Ryans hoem

R u fuckingg happy sunshine

You smile, typing back Yes. Thank you, grumpy.

Shut the fuck up, Ben grumbles in your head, and all his adoration flares in your chest as you smile into the air like an idiot.

I love you, you massive fucking man-child.

I love you too, brat. Why the fuck aren’t you home yet.

You can almost picture his half-pouting scowl, feel the warmth of his body around you and smell pine drifting through the air. Meeting with everyone.

Everyone.

Yep.

Why the fuck is everyone meeting without me-

Because you’re picking up Ryan.

We could’ve made fucking Butcher do that-

Butcher doesn’t have a super awesome wife who’s going to tell him everything when she gets home, my love.

There’s a pause, and then Ben mutters between the low words of your friends talking around you, Be fucking fast.

MM says your name, looking between you and the bowl on the center of the table. “You put Ben in there?”

I always am. You nod to MM as Ben moves back to a quiet, warm hum in your chest, and tuck your phone into your pocket. “Yeah. I’ll give him his name when I get home.”

“And we’re sure Ben knows how Secret Santa works?” Hughie scratches the back of his neck with a sheepish expression, and you sigh.

“No. But I can explain it to him.”

“Old cunt ever even celebrated Christmas?” Butcher mutters, his feet kicked up on the table. “He don’t seem like the spirit of givin’ type.”

You flip Butcher off, your words short and firm. “He’s not a million Butcher, he’s celebrated Christmas before.”

Ben seems to love Christmas. Or at least grumpily acknowledge it with a soft, easy glow over his ribs and a relaxed face, which is the closest thing he gets to loving something that’s not you or Ryan. He’d told you, at the beginning of the month, that it was the only time his father didn’t drink as much. The only time his mother got to love him and not be caught between he and his father’s fights. The only time he got something as a child that he wasn’t expected to feel sorry or wasteful for receiving.

You wish there was some sort of supe that could communicate with ghosts or raise the dead. You’d mimic their powers, bring Ben’s father back, and then kill him again.

“Alright, Love.” Butcher raises his hands up in mock surrender. “Just makin’ sure.”

“Suck my fucking dick-“

“Can we, um,” Annie gives you an apologetic look as she cuts you off. “Can we draw? Now? Everyone has work tomorrow, and I would like to go home and eat my weight in sushi.”

Hughie nods, grinning down at Annie. “And watch Love Island.”

“Love Island?” MM raises his brows, and Annie blushes.

“It’s fun-“

“Names, cunts.” Butcher leans forward, pulling his paper, and looks around at the rest of the group. “Before time get’s all our sorry fuckin arses. Except yours. Love,” Butcher winks at you. “You’re stuck ‘ere till the sun goes out.”

“Eat me, Butcher.”

“Oi, I’m not above tellin the Gov you said that-“

“Ben would kick your sorry ass if you said that, Butcher.” MM’s voice is flat as he interrupts, leaning over the table to draw his paper. “You might be a supe now, but that motherfucker would beat up a mountain if it insulted her honor.”

You snort as Butcher’s sour expression, and give MM a grateful nod. Everyone here knows you don’t really have honor—at least not in a way that matters—but they also know that Ben doesn’t really care about that. His notion of your honor is subjective. You’re, apparently, above killing and straining labor, so he does that for you, but he also threatens congressmen and rude parents of Ryan’s classmates with his wife. You don’t lie to him, but he’s flat out encouraged you to commit perjury. He’d threatened a journalist who said you spread your legs for any powerful supe, but then shoved your knees apart to bury himself inside you and fuck you until you were a slurring, whiny mess under him.

It seems to mostly be about what you think of the insult. If that mountain called you a slut and you laughed, Ben would just glower, standing tall and ridged at your side. If it said the same thing and you stopped talking—cold spreading through your body and a ringing in your ears—Ben would make the mountain regret being born.

You miss him so fucking much.

Once everyone has a name and you’re sure no one’s pulled their own name, you leave Butcher’s apartment with grins and half-goodbyes. You, Annie, MM, and Hughie will all see each other tomorrow, and Frenchie, Kimiko, and Butcher will do the same.

It’s a short drive home from Butcher’s apartment, but that’s by design. For Ryan. Butcher lives in the city, and you and Ben are in the outskirt suburbs. You’d say Ben’s benefitting more from this arrangement—Butcher lives right above their office, while you have to drive to downtown for yours—but you’re the one who fought for this. The one who convinced Ben that Philadelphia would be a good place to live, because there was enough to not get bored, not enough that you’d never have peace, and it was halfway between New York and Washington. Most of the supe cleanup contracts that Ben, Butcher, Frenchie, and Kimiko got contracted for ended up being in New York—you’ve called Ben a murder maid several times, and he always rolls his eyes, kisses the top of your head, and mutters we don’t fucking murder people, we just get them in line when they’re being damn idiots—while a lot of your work is in DC, dealing with the more technical side of the post-Vought mess.

Ben hadn’t wanted you to call it the Soldier Boy Relief Foundation. He’d scowled at you as you’d told him and MM the idea, and their glares had been almost identical.

“There’s no fucking way you’re calling it that.” Ben had snapped, and MM had shot him a look of surprise.

“I mean, not that I don’t agree,” MM had said, scanning over Ben with a frown. “But why the hell do you think that.”

“Because Soldier Boy’s fucking dead. You,” he’d bumped his shoulder with yours, rough affection spreading over his ribs, even as he continued to glower. “Fucking killed him, Sunshine. Don’t use that name.”

You’d wrinkled your nose at him. “First of all, that’s very romantic, Pretty Boy. I’ve always wanted to metaphorically murder my husband.”

Brat-

“But,” you’d continued, kicking Ben’s shin as he’d started to smirk. “I have reasons to name it that.”

MM had scoffed. “There is not a chance you’ve got reasons to justify using that name-“

“It will draw attention.” You’d raised your fingers as you listed the reasons, using a bored, plain tone. “The whole point of this is to get as many victims of Vought and Homelander as much help as possible. Labelling it with Soldier Boy’s name will put it on people’s radar-“

“So would calling it the Starlight or Anomaly relief Foundation-“

You’d shaken your head, giving MM a flat look. “Annie’s supe name is already tainted in the public eye. Mine is controversial. If people hear the Anomaly Relief Foundation, they’ll form an automatic opinion based on the trials and news stories they’ve read. Soldier Boy will get people to actually look at what we’re doing. Older victims will be more likely to come out of the woodwork, supes that admired Ben growing up will be more willing to see what we’re offering them, and congress is full of old white assholes who will love it.”

MM had frowned, but nodded for you to continue, and you’d raised a second finger.

“Vought’s copyright on Soldier Boy expired last year, but Starlight and the Anomaly won’t be available for public use for another forty. Even if Vought goes down, they could drag us with them on petty litigations and technicalities, and we don’t need that right now. Finally,” you’d raised a third finger. “I think it’s poetic, and funny, and rubbing how we won in Homelander stupid dead face.”

You’d won that argument. And the argument about where to live. And the argument about letting Butcher have alternate weekends with Ryan.

That last one had been the easiest to win. For the name debate you’d had to convince Ben and MM, and for the city debate you’d had to convince the whole team of stubborn assholes you called your friends, but for the last one you’d only had to convince Ben. And you always convince Ben. He puts up a grumbled argument, and you tear down his points with teasing, loving words, and he gives in with a grunt. But you always see his small grin, and feel all his love and care and affection bursting from that piece of him near your heart, and he devours your face and neck and cunt until your knees get weak and you almost fall over.