#god he is so hot in this outfit though

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

[just-null]

YO, SUPER LATE SUPER LONG SUPER MESSY OCTOBER POST THAT I JUST SHOVED EVERYTHING INTO BC I DIDN'T WANT TO DO MULTIPLE. FUCK IT.

I forgot halfway that these were supposed to be costumes and not mini aus... SO REMEMBER IN MY PLACE, EVERYTHING IS HYPOTHETICAL. also. some have a bit of yandere elements to them bc its SO FITTING FOR NORITOSHI.

Happy late October, everyone. it's winter now. Let's get it, baby.

[Long rambles and doodles under the cut!]

Vampire!

I kept asking myself, "How sexy is too sexy.." and "How the fuck does a sexy vampire even look like without it being a shirtless guy w fangs or Edward Cullen....." I think I figured it out

Sure, sure, vampires are superhumans with sun allergies that can drink blood really hotly. They can also easily overpower you to feast and blah blah blah, but what if said vampire (Noritoshi) was too weak to do any of that? Not literally, but he craves your say. He wants not only your blood but your affection. He wants to get praised as he drinks you in. Are you comfortable? How much will you allow him to take? Do you want to get him back in return? Guidance with this makes him feel more at ease. It's still Noritoshi at the end of the day. He's going to find a way to be a little awkward about you because of his crush. He refuses to drink from anyone other than you, even if it causes his death. Therefore, he has to keep you healthy! For the rest of your lives..! Besides, he can't really go outside or else he'd.. y'know. So if you think about it, this is a very beneficial relationship for both of you!!

The only downside is that you're losing blood on the regular, and for some reason, more people are moving away... Probably nothing, right? Noritoshi is always there to keep you company and help you recover anyways.

Witch!

my attempts also bled into the witch design.... you got greedy with requesting two in one ask, but I'll spoil you this time bc I also wanted to see Noritoshi as a (sexy) vampire and witch. heh. AND I DIDNT REALIZE HED BE SO CUTE AS A WITCH..... WHAT THE FUCK?? rip momo, fight for your title of cute witch...

Noritoshi strikes me as one of those witches who'd rather be left to their own devices because they're running some important magic whatever in the background. though, he'll take some breaks and indulge you if you insist on having him around. Insist meaning you pass by and strike conversation, leaving him to neglect anything and everything to prioritize his time with you. He doesn't want to use magic on you unless it's beneficial for either you or both. Noritoshi likes a natural progression with you that he knows for a fact is true and not some product of some spell. Though it doesn't mean he wouldn't use charms and such to get you to interact with him more often to speed up the process!

Can't sleep? He has a remedy perfect for that! Bad luck? Oh no, take a charm. Nerves? A potion he perfected will help you ease your jitters. Annoying peers? With a snap of Noritoshi's fingers, they're gone! Just don't ask what happened. Enjoy yourself instead and come to him with any new issue. He's quick to resolve it.

Definitely has some sort of doll that looks suspiciously like you.. Noritoshi would probably talk to it and practice one liners that give you the strongest sense of nostalgia once he uses them. He's simultaneously giddy that the charm he put in the doll works but also a little annoyed that his hard work isn't surprising you, but leaving you with deja vu.

Idol!

i was crying the entire time bc what does an idol look like.... noritoshi is handsome enough to be an idol without actually being an idol... now i can confirm that idols are very well dressed though. thumbs up 100% but i had some thoughts...

[Idol]

Noritoshi would be the type to cherish his fans, but hold clear favoritism over you. he'd be those idols that look cold, but they talk, and they sound smug in a charming way. i don't know much about idols, but i know he'd be so fucking good.... he'd be the type of guy to sing to you amongst the hundreds in the crowd.... ahhh the interviews w these famous aus. they're just talking and acting like themselves. can you imagine Noritoshi getting asked the question if he has a lover or not? he can lie, im sure you're alright with that, but he doesn't want to!! he does have someone!!! someone he loves more than all his fans love for him combined!!! he just can't say it for the sake of your privacy and his career. so Noritoshi does what any charming guy who's good with their words does. he deflects the question. answering the question, but not really, that'd be something he's known for. fans online are split on why Noritoshi does this. some think he's trying to keep that side of his life private, others think he's trying to mess around, and others think he's hiding a secret lover!!! though the last one is usually seen as the outlandish one, sometimes it makes Noritoshi's heart drop bc they get some things right. "Having a lover is a complicated question hidden behind a simple disguise. If I had to answer, I'd say my lovers are my audience. they make sure i'm well cared for, some more than others." AND HIS FUCKING LITTLE SMIRK I CANT COUGHS UP BLOOD. IM A THEORIST TOO. SECRET LOVER. 🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵

ON THE FLIP SIDE....

[Not an Idol]

An amusing thought where Noritoshi goes out in his casual clothes, and he's mistaken for an idol. No one knows who he is, but he just looks like he'd be one. bro's just trying to buy groceries, and now he has a fan group asking him to take pictures with them.. He'd tell them that he's just a guy, not an idol, but the group would still want a picture with him. it'd be a waste to pass by someone who's so naturally gorgeous, so with a sigh of defeat, he relents. It's just a photo, right? No harm done. Noritoshi'd go home and feel overwhelmed/embarrassed by the whole ordeal. later, he gets a call from someone in the kyoto group or you to inform him how he's all over social media, known as that handsome guy in the supermarket. HED BE COMPLETELY UNREACHABLE TO MEDIA OUTLETS BC NORITOSHI IS THAT GUY WHO DOESNT HAVE SOCIAL MEDIA.... he'd have to make one to make sure no one pretends to be him online. "Hello, I don't use social media, but I've been informed I've been getting attention online. To prevent anyone from being fooled by an impersonator, this is my official and only account. thank you." P.R. STATEMENT WRITING ASS.. his single post gets flooded with likes, comments, and DMs. it almost blows up his phone..... he was just buying bread, dude...... people try to dig up and find him through the other Kyoto group's social media.

[bonus] my second in command requested to put him in a fem idol outfit bc he thought it was funny. after frothing at the mouth and coughing out blood, I complied.

Doctor!

THIS IS SUCH A STRAIGHT FORWARD ASK BUT IT HAS SO MANY IMPLICATIONS. MY BELOVED CULT MEMBER.. THOSE EMOJIS GIVE ME A DIFFERENT IMPRESSION BUT IM NOT SURE.

Noritoshi as a doctor...... apple sales would plummet. his little clinic's business would skyrocket. sick cases would peak in his area. getting your heart checked by his stethoscope would be so fucking embarrassing bc all he'd hear is THUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP

LIKE IMAGINE IF THAT WAS YOUR DOCTOR? BRO.

COUGH COUGH HACK WHEEZE COUGH COUGH.

Noritoshi would probably own a small clinic that he wants to expand. That or he opened one after working for a hospital for a while. He's a great doctor who's most likely respected but a pain in the ass to work with. Among patients, he's gotten the hot doctor reputation. Most want to be treated by him, but he's so professional, any chance of trying to flirt goes down the drain. Yeah, he puts his hair up to avoid it in his face even though his eyes are closed classic lab safety procedures. He seems like the type to have a soothing but authoritative voice during examination, so he gets his message across. it's a bit difficult when dealing with patients for Noritoshi. If he sees them too often, he firstly scolds you for not taking care of yourself, then feels guilty for not giving you the proper care. Keep yourself safe and healthy, or else Noritoshi will clearly :( Putting him in a yandere setting would be dangerous. He'd have a lot of control over you, considering he can prescribe medication, shots, visits, and other things.... he'd have a ball.... nothing that would cause you any harm, of course. he's only looking out for you and doing what's best for you..!

Pirate!

my second in command wanted a pirate. pirates are so fucking cool and i know damn well if this guy were a pirate he'd have a bunch of battle scars under that fancy coat.

Noritoshi as a pirate would be more than a little odd, but also fitting. He looks like the type of guy who'd be well put together, yet he's willing to get his hands dirty. Like the guy who got into the pirate life because of some personal issue that couldn't be solved fast enough through conventional means. Even as a pirate, i imagine he holds everyone to high standards. They're still pirates though.. so his expected standards aren't even that high. He has more freedom here, so even he himself lets loose once or twice. Especially with you. He's even able to get away with more violent actions for you, the seas are unpredictable, after all. While taking some treasure, Noritoshi'd toss you a gem or golden coin, just so you can say you were the first to claim it. Just so he can see that happy glint in your eyes when getting your hands on treasure. God forbid anyone try to get their hands on your hard earned goods. They'd be met with a bullet to the foot or a sword at their neck. Everyone and their mother knows how you're his favorite, but Noritoshi downplays it. Its not a crime to help out someone from his crew is it? Not in the seven seas. He leans more into his cold ruthless killer side here. He has goals and people to help keep in line whether hes captain or not. Yet when around you, he's almost adorable in how he shows you a pearl so entrancing that it reminded him of you.

Corpse Bride!

my submission to my Noritoshi Halloween costume closet.. CORPSE BRIDE, THIS MOVIE FUCKS. esp w the yandere elements.

Noritoshi 100% made you recite the wedding vows to him before accepting the ring. If you fumbled up, he'd correct you with SO much attitude and expect you to start from the top until you got it perfectly.

Hypothetically, in the chalice scene towards the end..

Noritoshi is the type to never be fully relaxed unless he knows for sure you'll be eternally his. In this scenario, YOU proposed to HIM but have to die to continue being together. Not only that, but someone in the living world is also after your heart. Someone who bleeds. Someone who's the obvious choice. Someone who can give you the life that you deserve. Someone who will succeed in their pursuits if you. remain. alive. Noritoshi's life was cut short, yet he still managed to lose so much and be abandoned a considerable amount of times. When he meets you and finds out about the possibility of having to go through that again even in death, it finally clicks in his rotting mind. He realizes he's been doing something wrong to keep constantly failing. Noritoshi revises his methods to a more.. selfish course. Why should he care about anyone else's wants or how his actions hurt them? You were the only one who made him truly fulfilled, to make him feel alive. The only one who deserves anything and everything good that comes from this world. Destiny is never done toying with him when he realizes your marriage is invalid because of your pulse and his lack thereof no matter how hard he'd try, but the opportunity arises. of course, he's ecstatic to give you an afterlife worth much more than what a silly beating heart can achieve. "All people die eventually. If you miss your living family or friends, all it takes is patience, darling. I'll wait by your side in the meantime." He weighs the pros and cons of everything, but when it comes to swaying manipulating your thoughts he only highlights the ones that'll get you on his side. in this case, the pros of dying to be with him! Honestly, the answer was so obvious that Noritoshi didn't know why he was stressing about it before. It hurts him to see you in any type of pain, but he reassures both himself and you that it'll only be for a moment. Afterward, he'll have the rest of your afterlives to make it up to you!! What happened to Till Death Do Us Part? Noritoshi thinks it's insulting that something as shallow as that could be so widely accepted. If your love were true, it wouldn't stop just because the world decided to take them away. "Till death do us part? Darling, don't be silly. 'Not even death will do us part' feels much better, doesn't it?" 

[skitskatdacat63]

I've decided to do myself what the cowards at Aston won't. Behold.

[loveanddeepdick]

nerd!choso who is so unknown at school that people go, “who?” when he’s mentioned. you’re pretty sure that only five people knew who he even was.

nerd!choso who is most definitely the president of some club like chess or dead poets society. he saw you at the club fair and fell in love

he thinks he went to heaven when you approach his table at club rush. yuji, although not in chess, was helping choso recruit people since his poor brother was too shy to talk to anyone. you go up to your friend yuji, making small talk with him.

“i’ve never played chess, yuji”, you giggled

“my brother can teach you!”

you glanced over at choso, not even noticing him at first. he was.. pretty. not pretty as in a way your friends would giggle at you when they saw you in a new outfit, not pretty as in the comments you got under your instagram post, but he was a natural beauty.

yuji had to snap you out of it. of course he noticed though, the way you two looked at each other.

nerd!choso who teaches you how to play chess, not letting the two other members of the small club play with you.

nerd!choso who helps you study, helps you carry textbooks, and helps you with midterms and any exams you have.

nerd!choso who has a nosebleed when you give him a small peck on the cheek when he finally confesses to you after months of pining for you.

you two had been studying in his dorm, comfortable with each other as your head was leaning against his shoulder as you two relished in each other’s presence.

“i like you.”

“oh! i like you t—“

“no. i like you.”

you turn to him. a small smile creeping onto your face. you didn’t say anything, only pressing a short kiss on his cheek. he immediately freezes up, his hands turning clammy and sweaty.

“i—uh..”

then, a trickle of blood comes from his nose, dripping onto his cupid’s bow.

“oh my god, cho!”, you gasped as you jump up, running to grab a tissue from his nightstand where he also kept a picture of you two and a bottle of lotion

you leaned in, wiping his nose attentively. as you chide and nurse him while mumbling, choso can’t help but stare down to take a peep at your tank top. he could see the valley of your boobs and the top of your bra. he choked, letting out a startled gasp before his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

he knocked out cold on the spot

nerd!choso who keeps a special picture of you in his wallet. he’ll be at his chess club meetings, at lectures, out with his family, and he keeps a hand on his wallet, knowing you’re in there.

the picture was a polaroid he took with your camera, your eyes were just out of frame but he could see a portion of your fucked out face, his cum dripping from your mouth and splattered on your cheeks. you were completely naked and sprawled out on his bed in his childhood home

it was almost funny how a hot goddess of a girl was naked, covered in his cum, and sprawled out, pussy on display on his old lego ninjago bedsheets.

nerd!choso who dedicates every single one of his orgasms to you. if you were with him, he’d find a way to cum inside you. in your mouth or your pussy, he’s find a way inside. of course, he’d also opt for cumming on your tits or on your face, he wasn’t greedy. but what he really wants, is to cum inside your cute little ass! he’s too shy to ask, of course, but the day would come eventually

if you weren’t here though, he’d pull up his personal secret album for you, filled photos and videos with shots of under your skirt, through the crack of your bedroom, from your window, when you just walking around with a tank top. he loved it all.

but his favorites were videos you’d allowed him to take while he was fucking you from the back or in missionary. he loved watching them on repeat, never getting bored of them. after a while, he gained the courage to show you as well.

you checked your phone to see a notification from your boyfriend and gasped when you opened it.

it was an image of the picture he kept of you beside his bed, covered in his semen. in the corner of the photo was his hand wrapped around his throbbing cock.

‘i miss you 🖤’

[gachaparadise]

so excited by this!!

[jlheon]

𝓟𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄 ୨୧ 𝐏𝐒𝐇

(𝓹airing) ── psh x fmr ꣑୧ 𝓻oommate au ; fluff, suggestive, & profanity (𝔀ordcount) one thousand two-hundred 𝓹eng's note. hoon 🙂‍↔️ 𝓫ookshelf

𝓼ynopsis. nothing like a hot summer night with your equally as hot roommate

it’s too fucking hot.

you’re sticking to your sheets as you blast your air conditioner at the highest possible setting.

though it proves to be useless against this stupid heat wave.

you have a large cup of ice water to your side, the ac on blast, and even a fan directly next to you. though nothing can compare to the coldness of sunghoon’s room, since he invested in a stupid (better quality) air conditioner that cost him a good couple hundred dollars.

you think you might faint at ten, so you swallow up your pride. walking up to sunghoon’s room and reluctantly knocking on the door.

“i knew you’d come around,” sunghoon says when he opens the door, a teasing smirk on his face, “and oh look, you’re even dressed all pretty for me.”

you feel his eyes go up and down your figure. suddenly feeling conscious of your outfit decisions. a cropped tank top and shorts that were a little too short. however, you blame the weather for your minimal amount of clothing. there’s no way you were going to change into something with more skin coverage in this heat.

“i’m dressed appropriately for the weather,” you huff, walking past him to get comfortable in his bed.

“didn’t know my name was weather,” sunghoon teases as he closes his door to keep the cool air inside, then coming to your side, “i didn’t say you could stay with me.”

“i don’t care!” you shuffle around in his sheets, back facing him. “i’m sleeping here because my room is too hot.”

“it’s okay to want to sleep with me, princess,” he replies, “hoonie understands.”

his tone is so mocking and condescending you almost jump up and leave, but you melt into his sheets. his room is so cold you’re even starting to shiver. pulling his sheets over your shoulders and closing your eyes. the heat you’d been enduring all day making you exhausted.

sunghoon decides not to push your buttons and let you sleep.

when you finally get a couple of hours of sleep you are awoken by the shuffling coming from sunghoon’s side of the bed. a loud groan following shortly after.

“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he mutters.

the sounds of him fidgeting with the machine and light switch come after.

you sit up, rubbing your eyes, as you push the sheets off of you as the temperature of the room starts to increase.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, getting up from the bed to retrieve your phone. turning the flashlight on and walking towards sunghoon.

“the power is out,” sunghoon sighs, raking a hand through his hair.

“oh my god,” you whine, trying to make out your roommate’s figure in the dark. “take off your sweater, you’re going to die.”

“you sure,” sunghoon smirks, which you can see with your phone flashlight pointed towards the ground. “i’m not wearing anything underneath here.”

“liar,” you furrow your eyebrows as you stare up at your strikingly attractive roommate even in the dark.

“why don’t you check,” sunghoon brings your empty hand to the zipper of his sweater. hand around yours as he guides you to pull it down.

“i hate you,” you mumble when your eyes meet his chiseled and toned chest.

“you love me.”

in the blink of an eye, your phone is discarded on the floor along with his sweater. sunghoon has you caged against his wall your hands resting on his bare chest.

“you like this, don’t you,” sunghoon says smugly, tongue darting out to lick his lips. one hand beside your head as the other rubs circles on your bare hip.

“no, i don’t,” you shake your head, feeling small as his tall frame towers over you. his arm leaving the wall to gently cup the side of your face.

your eyes drifting to the way his muscles are flexed. veins running down his entire arm as his strong biceps trapped you against the wall, making you flustered.

“no need to lie to me-” you cut him off by ducking under his arms and running towards the bed.

“i’m going back to sleep,” you return to your original spot on the bed.

“sure,” sunghoon sighs as the bed dips next to you.

though neither of you are able to fall asleep due to the humidity in the room. still, you’re embarrassed by the way you were gawking at sunghoon minutes earlier even in the darkness of the night.

after concluding there was no way you would be able to sleep in such conditions, you start to turn around but are stopped by sunghoon’s hard chest pressing against your back. throwing his arm loosely around over waist.

“oh my god!” you say startled, hand on your chest, “you scared me!” you turn around in his hold.

“looks like you can’t sleep either,” sunghoon sighs for the nth time, “want to do something until the power comes back on?”

“like what?” you ask, looking up at him from where you lay.

you follow sunghoon out into the hallway of your apartment holding your phone as a flashlight yet again. he stops at the electrical panel and has you shine a light on it while he messes with the buttons.

“should you really be doing that?” you ask.

“well i’m just trying to see if there’s anything i can do-”

“it’s a power outage! it’s all the apartments, not just ours,” you argue, the heat making your emotions out of control..

“shut up!” sunghoon says, his voice laced with annoyance as he walks to stand in front of you.

“no, you shut up! we should just try and sleep! i have work tomorrow and so do you-”

he cuts your complaints off by smashing his lips against yours.

due to the height difference, sunghoon lifts your figure to his lips by tightly securing his arm around your waist. his other hand tangles itself in your hair after he guides your frozen hands to wrap around his neck.

the kiss becomes more heated by the second, sunghoon tilting his head to deepen the kiss. you’re catching your breath in a few seconds as you start to feel dizzy with sunghoon’s touch.

connecting your lips again and pushing your body against the wall. it startles you enough to emit a small gasp, allowing sunghoon to slip his tongue into your mouth.

his hands roam your body, despite the shared body heat, and the overall temperature of the room being agonizing. the only thing he can focus on is the cute sounds leaving your mouth.

you both break away for air, eyes fluttering open to see sunghoon in all his shirtless glory in the light. his chest heaving up and down in sync with yours as your eyes trail down to his abs.

“i guess the powers back,” you drop your hands from his neck. “we should go back to sleep.”

“you don’t really think i’m done with you yet?” sunghoon scoffs as he pecks your lips.

sunghoon picks you up faster than you can react and makes a beeline for his bedroom. before you know it his soft mattress hits your back and he drops you down on his pillows. body bouncing up slightly from the impact.

with sunghoon hovering above you, for once you’re thankful to have not spend the extra buck on a high-quality air conditioning system.

then his head dips, soft lips making contact with your neck. your hands reaching up to lace through his hair, pulling him closer to you. you bite your lip as his lips attach to your neck, sucking softly on your exposed skin. you conclude that you will definitely be spending more time in sunghoon’s room this season, and not just for his air conditioner.

[nkogneatho]

𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘'𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐀 𝐖𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐀 𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐄- 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐘 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

—cw: fem!reader, male and female masturbating, fingering, fistfucking, pillowfucking (put me in a cage pls), desperate gojo because i'll never shut up about that. not proofread.

—a/n: i wish his seiyuu had an asmr channel just like nanami's so this drabble would've been longer. enjoy though <33

You're used to stalking the social media of people you go out with. It comes naturally. Well you live alone in this city, and you sure as hell don't want to stumble across a creep with no defense. You never know what's crippling it's way across this sinful city at night. The questionable news reports just added the oil to the fire of your anxiety. So it was natural that tonight, you were stalking another one of your dates. Gojo Satoru. You knew he was pretty popular when those hand had to leave yours to dap or fist bump his peers on your first date. It's almost as if fifty percent of the city knew him, like a celebrity. If he was really so popular, it would be easy to dig up info about him.

That's what led to you eagerly scrolling past his Instagram, flipping through each highlight as if you were a child who just found the greatest comic book.

party,

party,

and parties.

it was like his mantra the way his entire feed was just him dancing under the influence, in outfits too expensive and champagne to rich. He bathed in the luxury and the people around him were pleasuring off the drops sprinkling. So perfect that he had everyone wrapped around his finger. But won't he do the same to you? Overpower you. All those riches and he decided to go out with you, just so he could make you one of his whores, you were sure about that.

"Ugh, fuck it." You groaned, tossing your phone away. "Guess i'll have to use my hand again."

You opened your laptop, went incongnito typing the first letter, but your autocorrect knew better. It's like it has memorised what you do at this hour. But autocorrect works on algorithms so you were sure it's your fault that you visit the site so frequently.

The porn website was open and you clicked on search button, specifically typing "hot men jerking off webcam." It was one of your favorite things to watch.

You scrolled through the popular videos you had already watched maybe a million times. There was a reason they were popular. So you just changed the filter and selected "new to old". After rummaging through some of the boring videos, your eyes landed on the preview of one with the most beautiful cock. longest even. Curiously, you click on it. The video starts with the man rubbing his boner through the boxers. You put a hand inside your panties, and all you want right now is for him to take his boxers off. After a few minutes, he does and his long light peach cock springs out. when he leans back, your eyes do a double take.

is that gojo fucking satoru??

And indeed it was. The man who earlier gave you the rich spoiled misogynistic son vibes was now moaning like a slut, begging his viewers to ride their imaginary pussy. He had zero shame. Although...why didn't you log out?? Why did you not switch to some other video?

Because holy shit he is fistfucking his cock like an animal in heat. The chair is shaking and making squeaking noises but fuck who cares about that. Listen to his moans. His fucking whimpers. He changed his placement and now he was on the bed, had the pillow folded in half only to start ramming his dick into it. God! Is this the real Gojo Satoru? Is this what he is? A camboy whoring his body out. Because he has generational wealth so there's no way he is foung that for money. So the only logical answer is because he is such a fucking pussywhore that his exhibitionist cock only cums when there are others watching it.

Your fingers starts vigorously pumping in your cunt. They weren't long enough to reach and you were actually wishing Satoru was fucking you instead of that pillow because look. Look at that long dick. Look at the pretty flushed tip with his precum glistening. Fuck, how'd he taste on your? Sweet? Sour? But you know it would taste warm and filthy for sure.

The man in the screen increases his pace and so do you, imitating him. you want to cum at the same time. you want to see what his cum looks like on the gray pillowcase. your middle finger starts stimulating your clit even more while Satoru in the screen is now snapping his hips rougly against the bed, in the pillow. you imagine yourself in the position. Prone Bone. Never tried it but if it is what he is doing, then you're sure as hell down. It's the way his thrusts can be heard banging against the wood under the mattress even if there's not skin for his to slap against. compared to what other camboys do, talk about how they're going to ruin your dirty little pussy, gojo's is different. he does say he'll ruin your pussy but it's hotter because it is followed by endless pleas.

"fuck—lemme ruin this pussy—anh! please, yeah? gonna make you feel so good, baby please?" almost as if he is actually fucking someone. and you don't think twice before assuming he is talking to you. It's okay to be delusional sometimes. Specially when his words make you cum so hard, that you are whining at the lack of more girth to clench around. you look at the screen and Satoru came too. And he was whimpering. Like actually whimpering because it felt so good. Hot strings of cum now soaked in the pillow. Shit.

When you come back from the bathroom after washing yourself, you hear a notification. you pick up your phone to find a "Free tomorrow night?" from the same man who indirectly made you cum so hard tonight. And after what you saw today, you would be a fucking idiot to miss a chance like this.

"Yeah, Of course. Can't wait to see you tomorrow."

*Sent*

[sacredsorceress]

Meet Cute with Logan Would Include... || Wolverine Headcanons

pairing: logan howlett (wolverine) x mutant!f!reader summary: you're a new teacher at the school and logan is interested in you from your first meeting a/n: i'm admittedly projecting with the fact that reader teaches history but just a little blurb because logan's been on my mind and i need to get work done <33 lmk if you want me to make this into an actual fic!! warnings: none, all fluff

masterlist | inbox | tip jar (ko-fi)

when you first arrive at the school as a teacher (and late blooming mutant) charles introduces you to logan

logan has a typical scowl on his face and glances at you up and down

so you begin to worry that you've worn the wrong outfit or presented yourself poorly and now an infamous wolverine dig is about to be thrown your way

but instead, he takes a puff of his cigar, and looks back at charles

"you have a rule about only recruiting good-looking teachers or something?"

and what an array of relief (and butterflies) do you get from that

"yes, very funny, logan. however, y/n here has a phd. I've brought her on to teach the students"

"yeah? and what's your "gift"?" (mutation)

he has a coy look on his face

"oh logan, that's a bit personal..." you said with faux seriousness. "buy me a drink first."

for the first time, you saw him smile. a chuckle reverberated in his chest.

"fair enough."

after that interaction charles escorted you out of the room but as you went, logan's eyes were trained on you.

intrigued, he took another puff of his cigar and smiled to himself.

on your first night there, once all the children have gone to sleep and all the adults have gone to their own rooms for the night you hear a knock on your door.

and guess who it is?

you hate to admit it but god, does he look so hot and suave standing in your doorway.

logan's hair is in a typical mess and his flannel has a few more buttons undone than it did this morning,

and although he's rough around the edges and not as necessarily openly friendly as the others, he exudes confidence- especially as he leans against your doorframe.

"you said i owed you a drink."

although he takes you to the diviest dive bar in town, you have such a good time.

after a little bit of awkwardness, the two of you found your footing and you end up talking (flirting) for hours

well, in actuality, you do most of the talking but boy does he like listening to you talk and watching your eyes light up while you laugh at some of your own stories

on the way back to the mansion, he opens the car door for you

"thank you."

"don't mention it" (he's blushing a little)

on the ride back he tries to be as smooth as possible, one arm draped over the passenger seat while the other rests on the steering wheel

he keeps taking quick glances at you as you hum along to the song on the radio and even though you just met he's already thinking about how he could get used to this

he walks you back to your room and as much as he wants to make another move (and you do too) he doesn't want to mess up your relationship before its even started

i mean, you're living in the same place?? what happens if you don't like it?? and you end up hating him?? now his suave demeanor has crumbled under the weight of realising this is actually real and not a game

"I'll.. uh... be down the hall if you need me."

"thanks, logan" you smile softly and he thinks its the first time anyone's done that in over a decade and meant it

when he starts walking down the hall, you call out in a whisper

"oh and logan!" you pause. "sweet dreams."

before he can say anything the door of your bedroom shuts

a stupid, silly grin coats his face so big that he rubs his hand across his cheeks in fear anyone would catch the big bad wolverine becoming a softie for the teacher he's got the hots for

although you've just met, you've got him wrapped around your finger and he can barely believe it

shoving his hands in his pocket, logan shakes his head and laughs on the way to his own bedroom

"fuck."

[skzdust]

Ruin Me, Big Boy ;)

This is smut. MINORS DNI.

This fic was a request from @piratejoongie ! Thank you for the ask it very much inspired me ;)

Summary: You hook up with Mingi off Tinder one night.

Pairing: Mingi x reader

Includes: "good girl", "cocksucker", cock sucking, unprotected vaginal sex (USE CONDOMS PLEASE), tinder hookup but I've never done a tinder hookup so idk how they work irl but this is how I imagine it, PLEASEEEEE be safe with Tinder hookups though guys, Horny gay Wooyoung, Bestie Felix and Changbin, very background Chanlix

Word count: 1.4k

Taglist: @weirdowithaphone @caught-in-the-afterglow @palindrome969 @skzstan12345 @katsukis1wife @hyunjinsjeans @somethingkindazainy @silverstarburst

Network: @mirohs-aurora-society

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!

Masterlist

-----

“No.” You swiped left. “No.” Again. “No.” Again.

“God, when does this game get good?” Felix took a swig from his beer, leaning over the arm of the couch. 

“Yeah, I like playing tinder as much as the next guy, but come onnnnn, these men are lame as hell.” Wooyoung rolled his eyes. 

“Literally get interesting.” Changbin closed his eyes as he nodded in agreement. 

As if on cue, Mingi (25) popped up on the TV your phone was cast to, all dark hair and sharp jawline… and that smirk!

Your own jaw dropped. “Guys, I think I just fell in love.”

“I think I just got hard!” Wooyoung yelled. “Jesus Christ, look at that man!” 

“He’s mine!” You yelled back. “My tinder, my man! Claimed!” 

“Fuck!” Wooyoung collapsed back against the couch as you swiped right. 

The room erupted in screeches as hearts filled the screen, indicating you’d matched. 

“Message him, message him!” The voice was so high with excitement it wasn’t immediately recognizable as that of any of your friends, but you hit the ‘message’ button and stared at the text bubble for a second. 

“What do I even say to someone that fucking hot?”

“Here. Gimme.” Wooyoung wiggled his fingers, and you handed over your phone. Your eyes widened as you watched him type on the screen. “There.” 

You: Ruin me, big boy ;)

“God.” You laughed. “You’re gonna scare him off.”

“No, I’m not, we workshopped your profile forever. You look hot as hell. You’re gonna be thanking me.” You watched as he swiped into Mingi’s profile. “See, he’s looking for short-term fun.”

“Short-term fun.” Felix hummed. “I know that means hookups, but I kinda hope he sticks around. Just because he’s nice to look at.”

“He hasn’t even—” You started, but Wooyoung cut you off with a squeal. 

“He responded!” 

“Give me my phone!” You snatched it from his hand.

Mingi: I can do that, baby ;)

Your stomach leapt.

“Get his location right fucking now.” Wooyoung ordered. 

You began typing something out.

You: Time and place and I’ll be there

Changbin giggled. “Y/n’s getting some!” 

“Hell yeah, y/n’s getting some!” You took a sip of your cocktail as you went back to his pictures. “How do people even look like this? He’s so hot.”

Mingi: An hour and a half work? Here’s the address.

You looked up the address as soon as he sent it. It was a nice apartment building downtown. Felix’s boyfriend Chan actually lived there. 

“I’ll tell Chan you’ll be over there in an hour and a half.” Felix had a twinkle in his eye as he whipped out his phone. “If Mingi’s a dick, or a creep, you can go to his place.”

You nodded. “Sounds good.”

You: I’ll see you in an hour and a half <3

You went upstairs to get ready, showering quickly and changing into a matching underwear set and a cute but casual outfit. 

Wooyoung clapped as you walked down the stairs. “Beautiful, y/n. Tell me how he is. And if he’s into men. And if he might possibly be into me.”

“He’s hooking up with her, Woo. Not you.” Changbin said bluntly.

“Maybe he’s bi!” 

Felix ignored them, smiling at you. “Have fun and be safe, y/n, make sure your location’s on.”

You checked your phone to make sure you were sharing your location with Felix. “All set! Bye!” 

You made your way downtown, parking and walking the rest of the way. You texted him when you got to the lobby and leaned against a pillar.

You almost weren’t expecting Mingi to be real, but he walked out of the elevator with the gait and confidence of a supermodel. He was dressed in all black, he was tall, and in person that smirk had the cockiness of someone who could back it up, no matter what was required to do that.

Your pussy throbbed as he looked at you, his smirk growing. 

“Y/n…” He crossed the lobby, eyes looking you up and down. “You look even better than your pictures.”

“You’re pretty fucking hot yourself.” You managed to get out.

He laughed softly. “Oh, am I? A pretty girl like you telling me that is gonna inflate my ego.”

“Lucky for you, I like a man with a god complex.”

“God complex, huh? I think that can be arranged.” 

“Oh, can it?” You raised your eyebrows. 

“You’re gonna be worshipping me.” He winked. 

“I’d love to worship you.” You whispered back.

“Then come upstairs.”

—

As soon as you made it into his apartment, Mingi pushed you against the wall, trapping you in with one hand and kissing you hard. His lips were demanding, and his tongue licked into your mouth. You moaned, your head already growing dizzy from the kiss. 

“Good girl.” He hummed. 

“Mingi…” You whined.

He pulled away. “What do you want to do tonight?” 

You thought for a second. “I wanna suck your cock.”

He leaned in by your ear. “Can I call you a good little cocksucker?”

It felt like he’d lit you on fire. “Yes, please call me your good little cocksucker.”

“Then on your knees.”

You sank to the floor, unzipping his pants.

He pushed them and his boxers down, and his cock sprang free, already red and hard and big.

You reached around it, pumping the shaft a few times. “Fuck.” You whispered. You could barely wait to get it inside you.

“What, I thought you wanted to worship me.” He smirked. 

In response to that, you opened your jaw and pushed yourself down on his cock.

He groaned, his hand finding your hair and balling into a fist. “Fuck, such a good cocksucker. So good for me.”

You focused on the feeling of him in your mouth, the heat of his skin. He was easily the biggest guy you’d been with, but you didn’t let that intimidate you, pushing yourself further and further down on his cock. 

His grip on your hair tightened, and he gently began to rock his hips back and forth, gently fucking your face. “Good girl. Good fucking girl. Taking me so well, sucking my cock like you were made for it.”

You moaned around him, fighting to keep your jaw relaxed. 

His hips picked up the pace, quickly but gently fucking into your mouth. “Good girl, good girl, good— ngh!” He pulled out of your mouth to cum on your face, groaning as he stroked himself. As cum painted your features, you thought you’d never seen someone so hot. 

“You want me to fuck you now? Properly, not your mouth.” He panted.

“Yes.” You moaned. “Yes, Mingi, please.”

“Okay, my good girl. Lets’ go to my bedroom.”

You got up, following him into the bedroom. It was tidy, with grey sheets on the bed and an attached bathroom.

“Clothes off, and on the bed.” Mingi ordered. You hurried to obey, spreading yourself out on the bed for him.

“Fuck.” He said as he took off his own pants, his eyes raking over your form.

“Fuck me.” You whimpered. 

“Don’t worry, my good girl, I will.” He left his shirt on as he crawled over you on the bed. “I’ll fuck you within an inch of your life, if you’ll let me.”

“Please, Mingi, please fuck me within an inch of my life.”

“Fuck, begging?” He kissed you, hard. “You’re so fucking hot, y/n.”

He lined himself up with your entrance and began to push inside. You moaned as his tip stretched you.

“Perfect little— ngh, fuck.” Mingi pushed in further, his voice growing strained. 

You couldn’t say anything your mouth forming a little ‘o’ as you burned in pleasure. 

He seated himself fully inside you, and you stayed like that for a moment, with Mingi deep inside you, connected. 

And then he started moving, and you thought you might cum on the spot. He was big, but he felt even bigger inside you, especially as he started fucking you in earnest, pushing in and out with a fervor.

You moaned, clutching at the sheets. “Fuck, fuck, Mingi, ah, God…”

“Feel so good, my good girl, so tight around me, such a good little hole for me.” He grunted. “We gotta do this again, because God I love fucking you.” He caressed your cheek. “Takin’ my cock so well.”

“Yeah, anytime you want.” You breathed, meaning it.

“Anytime I want, huh?” He pushed into you in a hard thrust. “I’m gonna take you up on that, my good girl.”

“Please do.” You whined. “Your good girl.”

“I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else.” He whispered. “Ruin me, big boy, that’s what you said, right? I’m gonna fucking ruin you.”

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

Isn’t this like the same outfit though?????

[kissforyouu]

97 / jjk

pairing : jungkook x reader

genre : smut , fluff

warning : back riding 🤭 , missionary , NAILS digging into his back , rough sex , masturbation , he watches her , switch!reader , switch!jk , name calling , p*ssy spanking

a/n : BACKKK!! hai :) this was kinda rushed but i hope u liked it 😭😭

unedited.

You want him so bad.

Your eyes stare at him, your boyfriend — God, your amazing hot boyfriend whom you love so so much — who was making himself a cup of coffee. Jungkook was shirtless and only in a pair of sweatpants. He knows that this type of outfit makes you go crazy, and that's exactly what you're feeling right now.

You doubt he did it on purpose though, he's usually shirtless at home and plus, he's been very busy lately. Very busy as in barely finding time for you busy. True, you did find it annoying, very annoying. But you also understood what he's currently going through.

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you watch your boyfriend place a small kiss on your temple before going back to your shared room. He was currently working on a few work matters and busy of course.

You form a pout, staring at the pathway leading to your shared room as your nails tapped on the cushion on the sofa. Your train of thoughts end up on how Jungkook's big broad back looked. His shoulders wide, back muscles and biceps stretching whenever he moved his upper body. Jungkook had a muscular body, everyone knew that, but oh god his back and arms made you want to salivate.

Please you just want to claw your nails onto his back while he ruins your cunt rough.

Without even realising, you had been scratching the sofa with your nails, your mind imagining it's his back. Your thighs were obviously pressed onto eachother, trying to reduce the feeling of the small heat forming between them. Please not now, Jungkook's working!!!! You think.

Your eyes wonder around the room, trying to stop yourself from just getting up and fleeing to your room to beg Jungkook to take time off of work and spend it on you instead. But the pool between your legs just continues to grow.

You give up. You're up on your feet now, making your way to your shared bedroom. Pushing the door open, you see your boyfriend laying on his chest with his computer on the bed. He was shirtless and his back was fully exposed, giving you a perfect opportunity to just go sit on it.

His eyes shift to you, an immediate smile forming on his lips.

You walk inside the room, getting on the bed as you land a big fat kiss on his cheek. Jungkook giggles in return, his adorable bunny smile showing. You continue pecking his cheek over and over again, having a giggling man next to you in return. You move forward to press a few kisses on his temple, hand flying to grasp his hair so you could turn his head to wherever you wanted.

"Hmm? Want something?" Jungkook asks. He knew what was up.

"You." Bold.

Jungkook chuckles, his tongue wetting his lower lip. You look at the exposed mole under his lips as you place a small peck on it.

"Please. I want you."

"Mhm? That bad?"

"Yes, that bad."

"I'm working, baby."

You immediately groan, your shoulders falling down to the bed. But that was until you got an idea.

"No, you don't have to do anything."

"What do you mean?"

"Want to try something new."

Jungkook raises his brow, looking at you, waiting for you to tell him what it was. But you never say anything back, instead sitting up on the bed as you climb over to sit on his back.

"Baby—"

"Shhh."

You run your fingers through his hair a few times, knowing how much is soothes him. He hums, eyes closing to relax onto his touch.

You look at the mirror in front of you, looking at the way his arms flex as he is supporting his body up by his arms. Fuck, your boyfriend is so hot.

You twirl a strand of his hair, leaning down to press a kiss on the nape of his neck. You trail your kisses down his spine, feeling the heat in between your legs pool even more. You sit back on his back, feeling your clit land directly on his back. You feel your pussy clench around literally nothing. Fuck.

Jungkook stays silent watching everything you're doing through the mirror.

You get off of him for a moment to take your shorts off to be left with only your baby blue lace panties.

Jungkook bites his lower lip, eyes glued to the evident wet patch on your panties.

"Fuck, did I make you that wet, baby?" He groans.

"Yes, you did"

You sit back on his back with a small giggle, hands caressing his shoulder blades as you slowly start to circle your clit on his back.

Jungkook feels it, immediately letting out a groan. He looks surprised, but he should know better, you always liked to surprise him.

"Shit, this was what was on your pretty little head? My dirty slut."

"Mmhm"

Your pace was slow, you were taking your time with him. Slow, sensual and teasing. Jungkook's eyes were glued to your body through the mirror. Your breasts were squished in your tight little tube top, bouncing everytime your body slightly moved.

"It feels good..." you sigh, fingers running through Jungkook's hair as your clothed pussy continued to gently grind against your boyfriend's back.

Jungkook's eyes never left your body. He felt dumbfounded. It was so hot, you were so fucking hot and he could not get enough of you. You were bold and you always knew your needs. And you always made sure you had your way one or another. He loved that about you.

"Shit..." you circle your hips on a specific spot, your middle finger slipping inside your soaked panties to touch yourself. You press onto your nub, arching your back so that your crotch is laying fully on his back.

Jungkook's jaw drops at the sight, eyes wide.

"Baby, you're gonna make me go crazy" He breaths out.

Letting out a low chuckle, you jokingly punch the top of his head lightly.

"Don't you have work to do, hmm?"

Before he could answer you, you start circling your middle finger on your nub, slightly tugging onto the skin of your lower lip.

"Ah, fuck."

To Jungkook, your moans sounded angelic. It was his favourite thing to hear, ever. He could literally just get off to the sound of only your moans, he's even confessed that before.

He hums, gulping down his saliva down his throat.

You pull your fingers out, covered in your arousal, you guide them upto his lips. Jungkook happily wraps his lips around your fingers, taking in the taste of your arousal. He devours it, tongue swirling around your fingers to make sure he's gulped down every drop.

Fuck, you swear the sight just made you even wetter.

"You're so good for me, Kook"

He releases your fingers with a pop as you retrieve them back.

Jungkook groans back, already missing the feeling of you in his mouth.

You lean forward to pamper his face with a few more kisses, your hands massaging his shoulders.

Without a warning, Jungkook suddenly flips you over so that your back is pressed onto the bed with his body hovering over you.

You quite literally moan at the sight. He was so big. Big, everywhere. Jungkook's broad shoulders tower over you, his muscular arms caging you between his thighs.

"Pretty..." He murmers, fingers twirling one of your curls around.

"Hm?" You hum.

You spread your legs wide for him to see the clear wet patch on your panties, your clit aching to be touched. Jungkook meanwhile loved every second of your desperate little attitude. He took in everything. The way your hair laid sprawled on the bed, a few curls here and there on your shoulders, your top halfway riled down with almost all of your breasts spilling out and panties oh so obviously drenched.

He bites his lower lip as he looks at the small pout forming on your lips. Jungkook coos, lifting your chin up with his fingers as his hand immediately wraps around your throat. He chokes you, not too hard but definitely hard enough to let you gain pleasure from it.

You let out a small groan, focusing on the tightening feel on your throat. And before you expected it, Jungkook's hand lands a small spank on your pussy. Then another, another, another, another and another. Each spank make you want another more, and honestly, you just wanted him to touch you. You didn't care where but as long as he had his hands on you, you were content with it.

Your breath hitches once you feel him slide your soaked panties to the side, exposing your sweet pussy to the cold air. Jungkook grins, fingers coming in contact with your folds to spread your arousal around.

You whimper, watching him just play with your cunt. He touches you the way he likes. He makes sure to take his time with you, teasingly rubbing you here and there but never fastening his pace nor trying to get you to come.

It's torture in a way, but you didn't care, just needed him to touch you.

His fingers almost enter you. Ane oh god, he's driving you crazy.

Jungkook pulls his fingers away from you heat to lick them clean as he also releases your throat. He spits on palm to land his palm right on top of your glistening pussy to smear it all around again.

Shit. He made you beyond horny.

You run your fingers up and down his chest and torso in the meantime, eyes fixed on his hard boner. Jungkook's hands leave your body for a moment, causing you to whine at the loss - but he gets back to you asap with his cock now sprung out, standing tall and hard.

The sight just made you salivate even more.

You were so ready to sit up and just gobble his cock down, but Jungkook clearly had other plans as he pushes back you back on the bed with a chuckle the moment you sit up on the bed to take his cock into your hands.

"You're so impatient and needy, ____"

You groan - annoyed - but also sort of embarrassed at him pushing you back. It shows how much power he has over you, mentally and physically.

He grabs hold of both your legs and hoists them up, pulling you a bit closer to his body so that your thighs meet his.

Jungkook looks so good like this in this position. Hovering over you, your lower body pressed onto his, cock sprung out and leaking with pre cum.

The corner of his lips curl into a smirk, his hand grabbing his cock to jerk himself a little. You watch him attentively, jaw fallen down which makes Jungkook let out a small snortle.

You both were so so whipped for eachother.

Jungkook sighs at the pleasure, feeling himself harden even more. He passes his thumb over the leaking head, smearing his pre cum around. He gives himself a final pump, letting his cock go with a sigh.

You wait for him to touch you again, patiently, eyes showing eagerness. Jungkook guides his cock to your entrance, making sure to tease you even more by guiding the head of his cock everywhere but your entrance.

You still stay silent, not minding the teasing at all. Again, you just wanted him to touch you. That itself was enough. You really were that needy.

Once Jungkook finally decides to cut the act and push himself in. You gasp, feeling his length in you, stretching your walls out a bit. Fuck, it felt so good, and he wasn't even fully inside yet.

You close your eyes, letting Jungkook take full control over you. His hands caress your ass cheeks, softly pushing himself inside. He's been inside you way too many times, but you never adjust to his size. He's not too big, but he's big enough for you and oh god if he got any bigger than this, you would quite literally split in half.

Once he's fully in, he taps your hips, asking whether you want him to start thrusting inside.

You groan, hand on your tummy.

"Fuck, just fuck me!"

Jungkook laughs, immediately starting to move his hips. His thrusts start animalistic from the start, fucking me with no mercy. He doesn't give me time to get used to his thrusts, but continues to fuck me for his own pleasure. I liked it so much.

He maintained his phase, hands holding your legs apart to make sure they don't close. Your hair was a mess and your arms were thrown over your head, lips in between your teeth as you let Jungkook take full control in fucking you.

Your body was his to love, touch, fuck.

The sounds you made weren't the screaming type of loud, but they certainly weren't inaudible either. It was perfect.

You whine as Jungkook lean down to burry his face in your neck. This way, he can find a better angle and also it was comfortable for him.

"Ah! Ah!" Your moans and the sound of skin slapping echoes through the room. Your nails were digging onto Jungkook's back, scratching it whenever he hits that one spot.

You were so sure that there were marks left by now. You expect to see scratches all over Jungkook's back after. He enjoyed it as well. He enjoyed looking at the marks caused by your nails on his back.

"Kook, you're fucking me so good, baby! Don't stop, don't stop—"

You moan out loud, nails digging onto his muscles more.

"Yeah? Right here?" He circles his hips around this specific spot that made you clench around him repeatedly.

You let out a long moan, eyes squeezed shut.

"Fuck! Kook, I'm cumming..!"

Jungkook fucks you through your orgasm, moaning with you once he feels your cum coating his cock.

He continues to slam into your pussy, a white string of cum attaching your pussy and the tip of his cock once he pulls out. Jungkook moans at the sight of your swollen pussy, completely ruined and red, glistening with your cum.

Without wasting another second, his hand jerks himself off and spills his load all over your stomach, some even landing on your breast.

His cock hangs low, softening by seconds while you and him catch your breaths.

Jungkook's hair was sticking onto his forehead, his body golden - glistening with sweat.

He huffs, touching his hair to make sure they're parted. Jungkook leans down to place a little kiss on your lips, another, then another.

"Satisfied?"

"Yes."

[yunopouts]

scream - l. jeno

-> lee jeno x fem reader

-> frat! au, pure smut (jeno lee is one nasty mother fucker in this one y'all)

-> CW: dom! jeno, rough sex(??), choking, edging, a small... TINY (VERY TINY) bit of ass play, protected sex, handjob, overuse of the word fuck, overstim, head god jeno, fingering, spitting, squirting, slight praise, lots of crying (reader), dumbification, marking/biting, scratching, blood, nipple play, gagging, bdj (big dick jeno LMFAOO)

-> a/n: this is my apology for going on such a long break T-T, i'm telling you i didn't even realise it went on for that long. i was checking in every now and then but i feel so bad T-T anyways! I'm back :P this one doesn't have THAT much dialogue, so i hope you guys enjoy the gory details 😁 also i think this is the filthiest, most smutty, smut i've ever fucking written, and i've written a lot... trust me on this.

-> upcoming: dilf! jaehyun next week and maybe another halloween special idk. oh btw, everything has some sort of halloween aspect to it :)) psst! requests are open!!

-> word count: 4.2k!

-> also p.s: idk how to explain the way he's acting in this fic... he's like very sweet and cute when he's kissing, but he's being a bitch when he's fucking and being rough... idk, i hope you understand what I mean. but also, as rough as he maybe, he's very touchy-feely and kissy :D ANYWHO! I present to you, six pages of pure filth!

safe! master list

mature! masterlist

“When you said we’re going to a party, I didn’t know it was a frat party.” Minjeong said as the three of you walked through the door. The house reeked of weed and sweat, all the criteria for a proper frat party, except everyone is in a Halloween costume.

“Girl, where else would the party have been?” Jimin scoffed lightly. She paused in the doorway, looking down at her phone before she sighed. “Apparently Sungchan’s waiting for me in the living room, I’ll see you two later?” Both you and Minjeong nodded, wishing the girl goodbye and watched as she walked away in her cheerleader costume. 

Turning to each other, you silently agreed that the first thing you needed was a drink, so you headed off to the kitchen. 

“I forgot to tell you how hot you look in that outfit.” She said in your ear, loud enough for you to hear over the music, and you gave her a smile while you poured yourself a drink. 

“So do you,” you whistled as you looked her up and down, the way the gross boys in movies do when they spot a hot girl. 

Together, you looked like an odd pair, seeing as you were dressed up as Jennifer, from Jennifer’s Body, and Minjeong was Little Red Riding Hood. The music thumped through the air as the two of you stood in the crowded kitchen, surrounded by costumed partygoers. The laughter and chatter blended with the bass, creating a symphony of Halloween revelry. Your playful compliment still lingered in the atmosphere, adding a touch of warmth to the otherwise chilly, dimly lit room. You took a sip from your drink, the alcohol burning your throat, but your attention was momentarily drawn away from the sensation by something else. From across the room, you spotted a familiar figure, the ever so iconic Ghost Face mask, in the back corner, talking to a boy dressed up as a mummy.

The menacing presence seemed to defy the festive atmosphere, and your eyes were drawn to it as if by some magnetic force. The Ghost Face mask turned slowly in your direction, and even though you couldn't see their face, you felt a shiver race down your spine. It was as though an invisible connection had formed between you and the enigmatic figure, a connection that transcended the costume and the anonymity it provided. There was something magnetic about their presence, something that sparked a potent and unspoken attraction.

For a brief, electrifying moment, your eyes met those hidden behind the Ghost Face mask. Time seemed to stand still as you locked onto each other, and a subtle, unspoken acknowledgment passed between you, like a silent agreement in the midst of the raucous party. Your heart quickened, and the room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in that charged moment.

Feeling a surge of heat and anticipation, you reluctantly tore your gaze away from the enigmatic figure and turned back to Minjeong, who had been watching the silent exchange with keen interest. She met your eyes, and the shared understanding between you two was palpable. “You saw him too, didn’t you.” Minjeong said in a way that had her sounding winded. With a knowing smile and another sip of your drink, you and Minjeong silently toasted to the unspoken intrigue that had captured your attention.

As the night continued, the magnetic pull you felt towards the Ghost Face figure in the corner didn't wane. It was like an invisible thread connected the two of you, and despite the ongoing revelry, your attention kept drifting back to that mysterious presence.

Minjeong, ever perceptive, nudged you and raised an eyebrow as if to say, "Why not go for it?" Encouraged by her silent urging, you decided to take the initiative. Setting down your drink, you nodded toward the Ghost Face figure, indicating your intention to approach.

Minjeong gave you an encouraging thumbs-up before disappearing into the crowd, leaving you to navigate the sea of Halloween costumes on your own. You weaved through the dancing crowd, anticipation growing with each step.

As you approached, the mask-wearing figure seemed to sense your approach and turned slightly in your direction. They leaned against the counter with their arms crossed over their chest, waiting for you to arrive. The closer you got, the more you could feel the intensity of the connection between the two of you.

Finally standing face to face, the silence was almost deafening. The mask stared at you, unmoving, but you could sense a palpable tension beneath it. Without exchanging words, you both seemed to understand that this moment was special, a secret shared between you in the midst of chaos.

Slowly, your hand extended, and you reached for the Ghost Face mask. Your fingertips brushed against it, and you felt a rapid heartbeat beneath your touch. The mask gave the slightest nod, and you grasped it, carefully pulling it up.

Beneath the mask, a pair of intense, dark eyes met yours. You were momentarily lost in their depth, captivated by the enigmatic stranger who had held your attention all night. The corners of your lips curved into a small, knowing smile, and a spark of recognition flared in those deep, mysterious eyes. 

The unspoken tension that had been simmering between you erupted in a whirlwind of excitement. It was a dance of anticipation and curiosity, an unspoken agreement that you had both been waiting for this moment. And even though the music continued to thump, and the crowd continued to revel, for that brief, electric moment, it was just the two of you, locked in a silent, thrilling connection.

You told him your name when he asked for it, and he introduced himself as ‘Jeno’. 

“You wanna take this upstairs?” he asked with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You sucked in a breath and nodded before he pulled the mask back down and took your hand in his to lead the way through the crowd.

The staircase was crowded with a few people, Minjeong included. You spotted her talking to a girl in fairy costume and when you caught her eye, she gave you a grin, wider than you’ve ever seen. 

Every now and then, Jeno’s leather gloved hand would lightly squeeze yours as you climbed up the stairs. You held on a little tighter each time, but before you knew it, you were standing in front of a room with a big ‘JN’ poster hanging in the middle.

The boy opened the door for you and let you enter first before entering himself. The door clicked shut behind you as you sat down on the bed, your eyes locked on Jeno's every move. With a seductive confidence, he slowly peeled off the Ghost Face mask, revealing a mischievous smirk that sent a shiver down your spine.

As he stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours, you sucked in a breath in response to the sensual tension that crackled between you. His gloved hands, still gripping the mask, dropped to his sides, and he advanced with a slow, deliberate purpose. The room was drowning in desire, and you couldn't tear your gaze away from him.

Jeno moved in until he was standing directly in front of you. His presence was magnetic, and you found yourself unable to resist as he placed a hand on your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your skin. The touch was electrifying, and you leaned into it, your eyes closing as you savored the sensation. You reached up slowly and pulled his hands away, suddenly regretting it, but you went on with pulling the leather gloves off, exposing a set of large, veiny hands. 

Kicking off your shoes, you moved to the top of his bed and watched as he concentrated on your every move with dark eyes. In a flash, Jeno had pulled off the cloak, leaving his chest exposed and him only in his jeans. It felt like you were freezing without his touch on you, but soon enough, he was in front of you, inspecting your face before his eyes ultimately landed on your lips that were stained red from makeup.

His lips rushed to meet yours in a tantalising kiss, a soft exploration that soon deepened into a passionate melding of mouths. The taste of him was intoxicating, and your tongues danced in a heated rhythm, exchanging breathless sighs and moans. Every kiss, every brush of his lips against yours, sent a rush of heat through your body. It was amazing.

His hands travelled from your face, down to your waist and they pulled you to meet his body. Jeno groaned into the kiss from all the friction caused by his chest rubbing against your sweater, making his nipples hard and sensitive. 

While your arms wrap around his neck, Jeno’s hips dig into yours, creating a tent in his pants. It’s hard and uncomfortable but the pressure it’s putting on your cunt is to die for, so you grind… hard. Jeno moans your name while his hands tug at your jeans so aggressively you thought he would tear them if he continued. After blindly messing around with your pants, Jeno popped the button open and pulled down your jeans, exposing the lacy underwear you had on. 

You whined as he pulled away from your lips but you shut up quicker than ever when you noticed how he was staring at your pussy. He looked hungry.

He looked like he was starving.

And starving, he was.

Jeno practically tore off your panties, tossing them somewhere behind him, before he dove into you. His tongue pressed flat against your pussy, licking a stripe up, the muscle’s warmth and making you moan softly. His nose poked at your clit as his tongue toyed with your hole. He lapped at your folds, making sure no spot was left untouched by his tongue. Jeno loved the way you tasted; you had the best pussy he’s ever eaten, he felt like he could spend all day eating you out, and he’d never get tired of it. 

Jeno pulled away for a second to put his middle finger in his mouth, coating it in saliva before pressing it to your entrance. A hum escaped your lips as his thick digit slowly pulsed in and out of you as your hands worked to take off your sweater and shirt. Soon, one finger became two, and Jeno went back to eating you out. Your moans were driving him crazy; they were making it hard focus on your clit because his cock was so fucking hard. The hand he had pressed on your lower abdomen moved down to his button, undoing it and moving the zipper down far enough for him to get his dick out. 

As he rubbed his cock, Jeno’s teeth grazed your clit before his lips latched on to it, sucking forcefully. With that, it didn’t take long for that feeling to start to form. As your moans quickened, the pace of Jeno’s fingers grew faster, and he sucked harder on your clit– if it were even possible. He loved the way you were tightening around his fingers, like you were trying to keep them inside you, wanting them absorb your juices.

“Fuck, Jeno…” you gasped, fingers tugging at his dark, messy hair. “God, I’m so close.”

Your eyes squeezed shut right as you were about to cum, but you never did. You felt so high, but now you dropped back down to zero, and you were empty and cold. Opening your eyes, you saw Jeno looking down at you with a smug expression. He leaned down and kissed you softly, which allowed you to taste yourself off his tongue, the somewhat sweet taste filling your mouth. 

Reaching down, you felt for his cock, and began stroking when you found it. He was girthier than other guys you’ve had sex with, and he had a slight curve upwards, but my god was he long. You didn’t know if he would fit, but there was nothing you wouldn’t try. 

Jeno moaned as he kissed you, the feeling of your warm hands rubbing him up and down forced him to thrust at the pace you were moving at. He pulled back from your lips to drop his head into the crook of your neck, marking and panting against the soft skin. Behind the shell of your ear, he wet a small spot with saliva before he kissed it softly, and he did the same to a few other spots. He sucked on your skin until it bruised while he moved down to the curve of your neck. Jeno’s hot tongue laid against your skin once again before he closed his teeth around it. 

You jerked his cock harder as the boy continued to bite into different spots until his husky voice whispered a demand. 

“Stop.” Jeno told you.

You did as you were told, but you kept your fingers trailing up and down his shaft as he kissed back up your neck, to your lips.

“Gimme two seconds.” he said against your lips with a smile. You kissed him quickly before he got up, which made him chuckle. 

You watched as he got up, cock out and everything, which made you smile a bit. Jeno slid off his remaining clothes and tossed them in what presumed to be a laundry bin, and opened a drawer of his dresser, only to pull out something wrapped in a gold foil. 

Oh…

Not one;

Not two;

Or three;

But six.

Jeno pulled out a strand of six condoms before he turned back to you. “Just in case.” he smiled innocently, even though he absolutely was not. He tore one from the line and ripped the top off with his teeth before he handed you the open package. 

“Only six?” you asked in attempt to make a joke out of the pain you’re going to be in tomorrow. 

Jeno chuckled as he shrugged while you took the condom and rolled it on to his cock. “We can use the whole pack if you want, it’s new.”

And that was that, seeing as Jeno grabbed your face and kissed you passionately. His tongue eagerly explored your mouth once again, grazing your own tongue and cheeks before he pulled away. A string of your mixed saliva hung like a teather from your mouth to his.

“Turn over for me, won’t you?” you nodded in a daze and turned so that your face was in the pillows. “Good girl,” he said, his cool hands grazing down your back, sliding all the way down to your ass. He spread your cheeks far enough apart to see everything, and you swore you heard evil laughter coming from somewhere. 

What you thought was going to come, did not, in fact, come. Instead, you were surprised to feel a warm glob of spit fall on to your ass and how it trailed down to your pussy. Jeno leaned down and licked one long stripe, starting from your clit and ending at your ass. His tongue poked into your hole, once again, but this time he scisored in and out, the same way he used his fingers earlier. His tongue was warm and soft inside you, but that feeling didn’t last very long. 

Jeno pulled his tongue out, subbing it out for his fingers, but instead, he used his tongue on your ass, sending shivers down your spine. He licked at the puckered hole, warming it up a bit as he fucked your pussy with his fingers. 

“You doing okay?” he asked, but you were only able to moan out your response. His fingers fucked you faster, his thumb was ruining your clit with friction, your ass was slick with his spit. Everything was happening just as it needed to be for you to cum. “Oh fuck, Jeno, I’m gonna cum.” And this time you did. Jeno’s fingers curled inside you as they fucked you through your orgasm. Your body shook, your pussy was covered in spit and cum. Jeno’s fingers were coated in a mixture of his and your fluids, and he sucked it off like he was eating icing from a cake. 

You felt hot and sticky; he hadn’t even fucked you with his cock yet and yet that was the best orgasm you’d ever fucking felt. “Jen… Jeno, I need you.”

The desparity in your voice sent Jeno spiraling and in no time, the fingers in your pussy were gone and his cock was poking at your enterance. He spit into his hand and coated his covered cock in it, even though he doubted he needed it, considering the fact that you were so wet you could drip on to his bed.

With a slow push, Jeno’s cock entered you, but refrained from moving after hearing you gasp. You knew he was going to be big, but you didn’t know he would be that big. He was a length you’d never taken before, so it took you a few minutes to adjust to his size, but soon enough you were able to build up to a medium pace. 

Jeno’s hands snuck up your back to undo the clasp of your bra, exposing your breasts. Jeno firmly gripped your ass, with his thumb prodding at your assshole. You hummed with pleasure as the thick digit dipped into you slightly. With that, along with the pounding from his cock, you were basically in heaven. 

“Faster,” you gasped, finally feeling only pleasure as he fucks into you.

Pulling you up by the shoulder, your bra slipped off in an instant, which let Jeno get a proper view of your tits, plump and beautiful. He watched how they jiggled with each thrust, and he grew more and more fond of them. Jeno even switched his grip on you from your shoulder to your neck. His hand gripped you around the base of your throat, just tight enough for there to be a handprint later. Meanwhile, the other snaked down to your pussy, where he drew fast circles on your clit. Jeno’s cock was deep inside your cunt, it filled you to the brim and you were loving every minute of it. 

And so was he. The sound of skin slapping on skin, how your pussy fit his cock like a glove, how you moaned his name like you knew it well, how your back was practically glued to his chest. That made him go crazy; that made him fuck you even harder– a more vigurous pace that felt so good it brought you to tears. 

Jeno got a hold of one of your nipples, it was hard and practically begging for it to be twisted. You moaned at the feeling and begged for more through your tears, so Jeno’s arms crossed over your stomach, his hands reaching up to play with your nipples some more. He pulled at them until they slipped from his grip, he squeezed them until you begged for mercy. When he shoved two fingers in your mouth, you gagged and yet you could still go further. Jeno pulled his fingers out and covered your tits in your spit.

It didn’t take long for his hips to pick up the pace once he that he was about to cum. Your moans grew choppier and choppier as his thrusts became more sharp. 

“Shit, baby.” he groaned, his teeth biting down on your ear loab as he came. Your breaths were ragged in the moments of his orgasm, but you could feel his cock twitch inside you, even with the condom. Your body couldn’t keep up with the speed he was going at and soon enough you were shaking in his arms for a second time, cumming with him.

When Jeno pulled out, your head lolled backwards and you eyed him with a smile. Jeno kissed your temple and whispered his next words into your skin.

“On to the second condom, then?” You each laughed at his comment and Jeno wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you tightly as he shook with laughter.

The boy helped you off of him before getting off the bed again to switch condoms. The exchange was quick and before you knew it, Jeno was hovering above of you once more, staring down at you like you were his prey. This predatory look formed a pit in your stomach, but the good kind. 

Jeno’s eyes scanned you from head to toe. 

Your body glistened with sweat, collarbones and throat covered with markings of all kinds, your nipples were puffy and wet, and your pussy was swollen and slick with juices. Everything looked delectable; you looked delectable and he was so tempted to consume it all. 

The boy picked up one of your legs and propped it over his shoulder and placed his tip at your entrance. He bottomed out smoothly, and this time you seemed to be able to handle his length much better. Your head sunk into the pillows as you let out a sigh. 

You watched how Jeno’s eyes closed when he felt your cunt wrap around him with his head falling back with pleasure. “Feels so good.” he groaned into the air, his jaw hanging open slightly as he continued to thrust. His head turned to the side and he brought your calf closer to his mouth, littering it with harsh bites and soft kisses.

Biting your lip, you reached your arm out, silently asking for him to come closer to you, to which he accepted. Setting your leg down, Jeno placed his arms on either side of your head, his face now just centimetres away from yours. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you wanted to keep the eye contact, so you mustered up the courage to look into his swirling orbs. In his eyes were a mix of emotions, ones that were unrecognisable to you, but you liked it. Tilting your head up slightly, you pecked his bottom lip lightly, which earned you a grin from Jeno. It grew wider when you wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him in even closer to you. He hummed and kissed you back forcefully as he picked up the pace, his balls slapping against you sharply. 

The tears that ran from your eyes down your cheeks seemed to motivate Jeno. Before, he could only hear your sobs, but seeing you cry switched something inside him. It made him want to fuck you harder, just to see you cry even harder. You looked so pretty, with your makeup all messy and tears running down your face. He loved it. 

So he fucked you harder, and so you cried harder, you moaned louder, and you pawed at his back. His skin was under your nails, he could feel how they cut into him the harder he thrust. You were driving him fucking insane. 

Jeno leaned his forehead on to yours as he moaned out sweet nothings. “I fucking love your pussy, fuck.” he cursed. His words made you tighten around his cock, which only made him groan louder, but it was like music to your ears. He felt like your pussy was sucking him in the way it would constrict when he fucked into you. 

“Jeno, please,” you whimpered, but you didn’t even know what you were begging for. “Fuck, Jeno, you’re so fucking good.” you repeated your words as you whined out to him. 

His words made your insides flutter, his movements made your heart race and your breaths quicker. Everything felt so good you could barely moan out words anymore. 

He was fucking you dumb and silly. You were nothing but drawn out exclamations and tears. You were so sensitive, and yet you didn’t even want to tell him to stop. 

It was just too good to stop.

So he kept fucking you, and he kept filling you, over, and over, and over again until you felt it. “Jen… Jeno, fuck, I’m cumming.”  Suddenly, Jeno pulled out again, the same way he did earlier, but this time, he crawled between your legs again, fingering you until you came while jerking himself off. This one hit you so hard that your mind went completely blank and no words could even come out of your mouth. Jeno couldn’t even register what happened until he felt a wet substance leak on to his sheet. 

He couldn’t fucking believe it.

His mouth latched on to your squirting cunt almsot immediately, drinking in your juices like it was water. Some  liquid dripped down his neck as he lapped up the rest that leaked from your pussy, but he never let up. He continued to eat you out so well even after you came, you thought you were going to do it again.

As your hand raked through his dark hair, all it took was one tug at his roots for him to cum. Jeno rode his high by fucking himself into his mattress, and until he was done, he rest in between your thighs. 

Slowly making his way up to you, you looked down, only to find that his dick was still hard. “You’re joking, right?”

“How about we finish that pack in a bit, hm?” he grinned, making you scoff. 

[leclercstars]

save a horse.

dodge mason x reader

Summary: You're annoyed about getting paired with Dodge for a group project. He's quiet, cold, and you find nothing about him appealing (at least, that's what you're telling yourself.) Things start to take a turn when you end up having to work on the project in his bedroom, and suddenly, Dodge becomes the teacher.

Warnings: SMUT! 18+! protected sex, slight daddy kink, dom!dodge, nipple play

author's note: you all asked and you shall receive! god i love dodge mason (and you should too.)

“And you’ll be with Dodge Mason” the professor said when she got to your name on the class list. You thought you would be able to avoid group projects in community college, but apparently not. Dodge didn’t even shoot you a glance when the professor announced you as partners, so things were surely off to a great start.

He always sat in the very back, head low, kept to himself. He never raised his hand to answer a question or chime in on a discussion, and he always hurried out as soon as the professor dismissed class. You had seen him out at parties on occasion, chatting to one or two other guys in the corner. He looked good at parties, blue jeans and a tight t-shirt was a good uniform for him, especially when he added a cowboy hat. But his mysteriousness was unappealing, you found the whole “brooding cowboy” thing to be more cold and standoffish than sexy.

“Dodge! Dodge!” you chased him out of the classroom. You caught up with him and his expression hardly changed when he saw you. “What time should we meet to work on this?”

“8pm tonight sound fine?” he scrawled his address out on a piece of notebook paper and handed it to you.

“Sure! See ya then!” your cheeriness did not impact his mood, and you scoffed as you headed back to your car.

You did not find Dodge Mason appealing at all, but you found yourself standing in front of your mirror at 7:30 p.m. making sure that your outfit looked good. Your skirt was short, your shirt was tight. Why were you doing this? You kept trying to convince yourself you saw nothing in him, but your mind kept flashing back to the way his arms looked in those t-shirts that fit him so right. You threw on a hoodie so you at least seemed a little more casual.

He answered the door as soon as you knocked, and you walked in to quite a few folks in the dining room.

“Sorry, my sister has friends over. We’ll have to work in my room,” Dodge said as he led you down the hallway.

Why was your heart beating faster? You were just going in there to work, and it's only because you can’t go anywhere else.

His room was just as you expected it to be. Gray walls, navy bed sheets, decorated with rodeo trophies and a couple vintage cigarette ads.

“Neat room,” you said, even though it was boring as hell.

“Thanks.” he sat on one edge of the bed and you sat on the other, it felt like there was miles of distance between you- both physically and mentally at this point. Your legs were crossed tight, as you realized maybe wearing a skirt was not the best outfit choice for doing homework on a bed. The two of you got to work, talking about nothing except the work at hand. You were getting so bored, and your mind started to wander. His concentrated face was unfortunately very attractive, as he bit his lip looking down at the paper. His hands were huge, made evident by how small the pencil looked in them. His t-shirt was once again, tight. Hugging every muscle in his arm. You couldn’t stand it anymore. You took off your hoodie, revealing the crop-top you had on.

“Sorry, all this writing and concentrating is making me hot,” you laughed sheepishly.

“No problem.” Dodge replied plainly, although you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes suddenly scanned your body. He wasn’t even trying to hide it, as they lingered on the curve of your hips and the peaks of your tits, visible over the neckline of your shirt. Your face was getting warmer than the sun.

“I need a break, why don’t you tell me about these trophies?” you shot up and stood by his dresser, desperate to form some sort of connection with this man.

“Alright,” he stayed on the bed. He began explaining each one in pretty great detail. If you couldn’t physically get close to him, at least this was helping you get to know him better. There was a big one from when he was kid that had a particularly funny story to go along with it, and you held the shiny gold cup, facing away from the bed. You didn’t notice the way he slowly got up, coming up behind you and sneaking his hands around your waist. Your breath hitched, the smell of his musky cologne apparent as his neck was mere inches from your face. He turned you around to face him, fingertips never leaving the exposed skin between your shirt and skirt.

You stared up at him, eyes dark and low. It wasn’t his usual uninterested stare. No, this was lust, a throbbing, aching lust. God, he was so tall. You nearly had to tilt your head all the way back to even make eye contact. He cupped your face with both hands and pulled you in, kissing you in a way that you had never been kissed before. It was as if his lips were a key and yours were the lock, they fit perfectly together. His tongue found its way down your throat as his hands started to gently roam, tracing every curve and pausing as he found your ass under the skirt. He cupped your ass and squeezed, hard, earning a moan from you into his mouth. You could feel him smile against your lips as he squeezed again, making you press your body into his. Fuck, his abs were so tight and so defined you could feel them through the fabric. You looked up at him again with pleading eyes and he smirked before leaning right next to your ear.

“You wanna learn how to ride?” he whispered. You knew he was cracking a joke but god it felt so serious in that moment.

“Yes daddy.” you groaned back. Woah. He had never asked you to call him that, and you were not the type to just bust that word out usually.

“Fucking christ I need you so bad,” he hoisted you up and you instinctively wrapped your legs around him as he carried you to the bed. So “daddy” was well received. He flung all the notebooks and paper to the ground with one swipe of his arm. He was holding you up with one arm, giving you a chance to realize how strong he truly was. He tossed you down on the bed, rough but making sure he didn’t hurt you. His shirt came off almost immediately, and you happily helped him undo his belt buckle so you could see more of him. His cock was already throbbing through his boxers, just coaxing you to sit on it. He had already pulled your shirt and skirt off, and expertly unhooked your bra, tossing it to the side and taking a moment as you laid there in nothing but a lacy thong.

“Goddamn,” he sighed, grazing his thumbs over your nipples, teasing you and only making you want his cock more. He started applying more pressure, doing gentle circles with his thumbs and pressing his erection between your legs. Your moans were soft as you bucked your hips into him with progressively more force.

“Easy,” he firmly placed his hands on your hips, steadying them and pressing them back down into the mattress. “That’s no way for a good girl like you to behave.”

Suddenly it was Niagara Falls between your thighs.

He kept playing with your nipples, pinching and twisting and flicking, seeing how good it clearly made you feel. He wrapped his hands around your back and flipped you on top of him, quickly pulling down his boxers and exposing his cock, already slick with pre-cum. He reached into his bedside drawer and pulled out a condom, looking at you as you straddled him.

“You ready baby?” he nearly cooed. You nodded and started to lift yourself up over him, but he decided to take control. His rough hands were planted firmly on the sides of your supple hips, guiding you onto his length. You were soaking wet, but he was so fucking big you could still only take half at once without flinching. He held you steady, waiting for you to get used to the feeling of him inside you. You both had locked eyes the moment he grabbed your hips, and neither had dared to look away, drinking in, being intoxicated by every emotion that crossed the other’s face. He slowly moved you down until you were fully sitting on his cock, gasping as the last inch pushed into your walls. Your hands were on his chest as you leaned forward, eyes now shut as you felt how close the two of you had become. Two hours ago he would barely say a word to you, now he was literally inside of you. He started rocking you back and forth, controlling your hips and making you feel so fucking good. Your clit rubbed against his abs as you rode, sparks zapping across your body every time he moved you in just the right way.

You were on top, but Dodge was fully in control. You were completely submitting to his touch, letting his hands do all the work. His body was doing all the talking he hadn’t done earlier, as he purposely thrust his abs up, knowing that was getting you closer and closer to the finish. You were starting to lose it, made completely stupid by how good his cock felt inside you.

“Fuck Dodge-daddy, fuck,” you were so so close, you could feel the orgasm starting to bubble up in your stomach.

Right as you were about to climax, Dodge sat up and leaned in.

“Cum for me good girl,” the thickness of his voice was enough to send you over the edge as you cried out, breaking free of his hands and grinding on him.

“Oh fuck me,” his head rolled back and the feeling of your pussy clenching around his dick was enough to finish him off, pulsating against your walls.

You slid yourself off him and collapsed onto his pillows, resting your head in the crook of his arm.

He started playing with your hair and the two of you just laid in silence, basking in the bliss of the sex you just had.

That was certainly one ride you never wanted to get off.

dividers by @.cafekitsune

[hoseoksluna]

STEAM | myg ft. jjk

pairing: boyfriend!yoongi x oc (feat. jungkook)

genre: smut

word count: 9.2k

summary: one video call awakens your neediness for two cocks.

playlist: steam / pinterest board: steam

warnings: female masturbation, mentions of shower sex, praise kink, toying with the idea of polyamory, a hint of voyeurism, oc rly goes through it and faces mental battles, fear, intoxication, punishment, dom/sub dynamics, fingering, choking, cum eating, manhandling, degradation, provocation, mutual masturbation, rough & raw sex, brief oral sex (f. receiving), pet names

note: IT'S FINALLY HEREEEEEE SKFDSFLSFJ, okay so—let me introduce to you a new yoongi series featuring JUNGKOOK oh my god. i am SO EXCITED about this and i wanna apologize for my insane ideas in advance... i'm so sorry, guys. nevertheless, i hope you like this as much as i do, i literally went mad writing this and i smoked so many cigarettes i lost count. please, let me kNOW UR FAVORITE PARTS CUZ I HAVE SO MANY AND I WANNA TALK ABOUT THEM. oh fuck, guys. ENJOY READING SDKFJSD. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

side note: btw, the playlist i made is literally perfect and depicts the fic wonderfully. you can listen while you read! <3

The scent of mangoes finds its way up your nostrils, heating your senses through its balmy touch as you rub the body butter over the damp skin of your arms. Fingers graze along your décolletage, tucking in the fragrance for your boyfriend to breathe in when he comes home. He’s out for the night—said something about his friend finishing his military service, so the whole group was going out to celebrate it. Yoongi was so frantic in his excitement, hastily putting on the first outfit that sparked his eye. Didn’t even touch his hair, only sprayed a mist of his sandalwood and tangerine-tinged perfume. Grabbed his phone, keys, wallet. Barely kissed you goodbye before he fled out of the door.

He didn’t even ask you if you wanted to come along.

You didn’t mind, though—you’re only in the early stages of your relationship. It hasn’t even been half a year since you’ve started dating. And you figure he deserves a night out with his closest friends because you’ve been attached to the hip since the beginning. Funnily enough, you no longer live at your own place. Somehow, you’ve settled in Yoongi’s apartment, never setting foot outside, save for your walks, grocery shopping, the few dates with your friends and work. There wasn’t any conversation about it; you just mostly spend your free time with your boyfriend.

And all you do is fuck, eat and watch movies.

The last time Yoongi took you out was during the first two months you’d been getting to know him. The realization of how long it’s been sends a trail of chills down your arms and you rub it away.

But because you’ve been spending all your time together, you’re glad to have a moment to yourself—glad to be able to take a long hot shower, to do your hair and skincare. Perhaps, you’ll even have time to do your nails and that energizes you, propels you to spread the body butter further down the rest of your body. It is your rose garden, these night times reserved for your hot showers. The place you go to—your hideaway from the pressure and nerves of life that the steam loosens and soothes, especially when you let your sultry playlist echo through the mightiness of Yoongi’s bathroom, your favorite singer’s voice reaching your veins like the growing stems of those roses; pretty, pink and so feminine. Yes, Yoongi’s therapy sessions and thick length might have been a great help, the best in fact, but there’s something about letting yourself be burned off of all that’s been weighing you down and watching it trickle down the drain that is just so satisfying.

It was all that you were once used to. That is, until you met Yoongi.

Showers with him are something else.

Something you never thought you could ever have the blessing to encounter. Showers with Yoongi are intense, so out of pocket that you find yourself thinking about them fondly whenever you’re alone with your thoughts. There, beneath the downpour of the warm water, he lets you see the other side of his ever unyielding stern façade. While holding you, he would make you laugh, then make you moan and break that sound with each hard plunge of his cock. Hair slicked back, smirk adorning that delicious wet mouth, causing him to look like a Mafioso bent on absolutely ruining you. He would tell you the most insane story he heard from his friend, then talk you through the build-up of your orgasm while continuing to the point of that story—seamlessly waving through, never losing tempo. “Then, he went up to his hyung to ask him about what he did—yes, just like that, honey, take it. I know you’re almost there, just listen.” You would come all over his cock, sprinkling him with your essence, right there at the end of his story and like a hungry man, he’d get on his knees and eat you up, muttering how good you are and how well you did along with each swipe of his tongue. Your lungs would heave due to the overstimulation, your legs would tremble, unable to stand and he’d gather you into his arms, fold you like paper into the crooks of his body and let his thick duvet drape over you. He’d fall asleep first, breathing in the scent of your shampoo, snoring softly behind you while spooning you, never letting go of his deathly grip around you. And while you would breathe in the haze of lilac sprayed on his pillows, you’d become aware of the drowsy rhythm of his heartbeat, the lift and fall of his chest against your back, the snug heat of his body and it would lull you to sleep.

That has become your new version of hot long showers.

And if it isn’t this, then it’s Yoongi letting you quickly wash yourself before he’d steal you away, dragging you into this bed, only to carry you back there an hour later.

You speculate he has a serious, adorable case of attachment issues.

That is why you enjoy your exceptional alone shower all the more—you haven’t had it in so long. Only this time, it’s quite different.

You feel him everywhere.

You feel him in the drift of your hand down your tummy because you recollect the way he likes to pepper kisses there on his way to eat you out. You feel him when you round your palms across your backside because you know he particularly likes to leave traces of saliva when he presses open-mouthed kisses there. His love for you circulates in your bloodstream, mingling with the little love you have for yourself, making it bigger, turning it into a turbulent rush of liquid. You sense it tapping beneath your skin, asking for more of your body just like Yoongi does, always begging, begging for more—for more skin to kiss and lick, for more sensitive parts of you to find and nibble on.

Your hands sense the ghost of him even when your fingers slip past your mound and realize that the film of your memories dampened your cunt. You hear the words of praise he’d utter into your ear at the discovery and you sigh at your tender touch. 

That’s a good girl. Messy for me. 

The rotund case of your body butter remains opened, forgotten. You suddenly have better things to do—like give your body the self-care, the self-love it deserves.

It’s a part of the solo girl's night.

A mewl comes out of your mouth at the first round of circles on your clit. Furrowing your brows at the pleasure, you prop your free hand on the edge of the bathroom counter, riding the pads of your fingers. And then, just like Yoongi taught you, you take your digits away, edging yourself, taking them elsewhere. You cry out at the contact of your wet fingertips on your stiff nipple and you pinch the nub, a spasm of delight coursing through your sensitiveness.

You imagine Yoongi standing behind you. Not touching you, merely guiding you, telling you when to stop, when to pick up the pace—when to fill your hole. Watching you in the mirror, hands in his pockets, having a perfect view of your slick-caked folds, of your clit swollen and asking for his tongue. Determined to make you lose your mind by teasing you, letting you only slap your pussy once you’re close. Your essence drips out of you at that thought, making a mess on the floor and you plug it in with your finger, fucking yourself steadily, inflamed by how slippery your heat is, how easy it is to slip the digit inside. Hot flashes close over your body, pearls of perspiration kissing the crook of your neck. You fuck yourself faster and—

A sudden ring of your phone jolts you. And the picture of your boyfriend, half dressed, with the early morning sunlight leaking over the scars and tattoo on his shoulder, crammed inside your screen, greets you.

You pant hard, your finger still inside of you. Delirious.

He must be on his way home. You don’t even know what time it is. 

Leaning forward, you hide your breasts behind your forearm and you swipe your finger to accept his video call.

Blurry Yoongi. The night sky, starlit and alive, behind him. A shoal of silhouettes, some lanky and some buff, all short-haired and all as woozy-lidded as you. The picture smooths into a crystal clear view and there you see your boyfriend, the nocturnal breeze brushing his ebony hair back. Not just him, however, but another male craning his neck to regard you fully. 

His eyes flicking from your neck to the smallest of your exposed décolletage, a smirk blossoming on his face like your imaginary roses. 

Yoongi slaps his phone face down. You withdraw your finger from your heat, a cacophony of giggles, whiny cries and the exclamations of his name emitting out of your mouth. 

He is not, in fact, on his way home. 

It is a warning, his low and strict call of your name back and, heeding it, you take your phone into your hands, so he’s only able to see your deeply flushed face. Device back in his hand, he’s not looking at you at all. As a matter of fact, he’s shooting daggers fueled with deadly nightshade at his friend, grumbling something that you can’t quite make out amidst the chaos and bustle of the outing. The shoal of the rest of his friends and strangers disappear out of the perspective, as if threatened by the cold energy. 

You wish you knew what he’s saying to him. Even your pussy aches to hear it. The principle of him scolding his friend for looking at you at your most private moment scorches you and you’re red, flattered and majestically horny. 

Yoongi turns his head to see if you’re well-behaved and you beam at him, the pulse on your clit intensifying, forcing you to say, “come home, Yoongi.” 

He chuckles, aware of the reason behind your words, pretends he isn’t. “What were you doing, baby?” 

The growth of your grin doesn’t falter. You show him the sheen of your wet finger in the ivory bathroom light, the glint, the stickiness as you push your index finger to your middle and pull away, your arousal on full, filthy display. 

He curses under his breath. Doesn’t give a fuck that his friend sits beside him and adjusts in his seat. Bites his lip briefly. “Stick it in your mouth for me.” 

Doesn’t say the words that so very often follow after in that sentence. Taste yourself. 

Why he doesn’t step aside to take this video call eludes you, but something about you being watched by two pairs of eyes excites you. Enough for you to do as he says. Perhaps it’s due to the fact you don’t know the male sitting beside him and Yoongi is letting him keep his sight glued to the screen. 

Two sharp inhales of breath. Not one of yours. Yoongi readies his hook to feignedly lash out at his friend and you press your thighs together to alleviate yourself of the unbearable feeling between your legs. Confidence, a bad, bad version of confidence suffuses you whole, turning you into a person gone mad by lust. You swirl your tongue around your digit, the tanginess of your taste causing your eyes to narrow, the principle of driving not just one, but two men mad just the same intoxicates you, as if you were there among them, drinking. 

A pair of round eyes peek at the corner of the screen. Soft, naive, so terribly innocent. A dash of sobriety washes over you, owed to those brownish effervescent orbs, a sprinkle shame pooling low in your core. A reality check. You sense some kind of stability of that reality beneath those eyelashes of his, the stability that whispers—is this the right thing to do? 

It’s not rough, it’s not stern, it’s not Yoongi coded—it’s anything but. Gentleness is what you detect, free of any prejudice. 

You sigh. Millions of thoughts about how you could toy with them pass through your mind, but you decide against them, the stability a pillar that blends into your spine, helping it unbend. You can’t do this; you can’t do this to Yoongi and you need to keep your dignity intact in some way, despite the fact that every fiber of your body compels you to do the opposite. You distract yourself by screwing the lid of your body butter back on. 

“Good girl,” Yoongi coos, causing you to whisk your eyes to the screen in perhaps disbelief, shame or your still pending arousal—you’re not sure. How can you be a good girl when you let another man see something so lewd? How can your boyfriend validate something like that? “One more beer and I’ll be home. Wait for me on the bed. As you are.” 

Naked. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks, to the surface of every part of your skin, dragging away small ounces of shame. You curse, mentally, running a hand down your face. Yoongi downs his drink without taking his gaze off of you, watching your reaction, adds once he swallows, “and don’t touch yourself.” 

And with that, he hangs up. 

The harsh comprehension of what the fuck just happened envelops you in a confining embrace, the precipitately increasing weight of shame now a burden on your shoulders that you just can’t shake off, even when you slink your arms through sleeves of your silky robe and welcome in the summer breeze coming to caress your face on the balcony—even when you burst your lighter to a flame and light up your cigarette, inhaling the smoke that you hoped would rid you of its such uncomfortable hold around you. 

You licked your cum clean under the gape of a guy you don’t know in front of your boyfriend. 

His friend heard the order. Don’t touch yourself. Yoongi didn’t whisper it. Didn’t camouflage his words in any way. Uttered them straight and bare, allowing his friend to hear them, despite the fact he almost fought him then and there for sneaking one glance at your moderately naked form. 

Question marks hover in your mind and the pulse on your clit cries, seemingly knowing the answer. 

Did Yoongi like it as much as you did, the aspect of having an audience? 

The wetness in your heat dribbles out, staining your thighs. You squeeze them together, the drag of your cigarette hard and long, expecting to feel your nerves burn off. You gain no such thing—no relief, no lifting of the burden, just constricting tangles in your tummy, zippy spasms of butterflies going mad, mad, mad. 

Perhaps Yoongi didn’t like it at first until he perceived the auspicious debauched look on your face. Saw the way you didn’t hesitate to oblige him when he told you to stick your finger in your mouth. And perhaps the fact that you didn’t express any signal of discomfort was the key to unfastening the leash on his possessiveness over you. 

What have you done? What have you so selfishly and disgustingly done? 

You hang your head in your hands, the white smoke intertwining with the burden on your shoulders and pressing down harder on you. 

That’s why he let his friend hear the command. Don’t touch yourself. He saw the way you indulged in it, and that awakened his liking for it.

Yoongi lied when he said he’d have one more beer. 

By the time you hear the thunder of his voice, all the roses in your garden have wilted, leaving faded, withered petals in its wake—leaving a path of your internal battle all around the apartment for Yoongi to follow. You’ve paced, your bare feet stepping on them. Tried to untangle yourself from the incarceration of your mind by chain-smoking, but to no avail. The only change that took place in your body was the decline of your shame, for you couldn’t help but imagine what could have happened, had you let free rein to your desire—had those round eyes never looked at you with such purity. You figured there wasn’t anything bad about letting your imagination be colored like that, and so you sat on your boyfriend’s couch, cigarette switched to a coconut-flavored vape, and dreamed.

You dreamed about those two men being of service to you, right here on the same couch, where they would lay you down and make you squirt over and over again, betting between each other who could make you come the fastest, counting down your orgasms until the number was a mere blur to you. 

The throb on your clit heightened to heavenly levels and when you emerged from your dream, you found yourself being able to breathe—your momentary disappearance tricking your shame into leaving. It was difficult for you not to touch yourself and you opted to adhere to Yoongi’s wish, not risking to feel worse than you already had. 

The war ended, undeterred by the fact you never expected it to. 

Loud swear words roar in Korean. You rise to your feet to open the front door for Yoongi and you discover that he’s not alone at all. 

The same pair of round eyes, the cause of all the ruckus you just departed from, meet yours, hauling you back there with a force. Your mouth falls agape and before you can react any further, Yoongi stumbles into you. You almost topple over, realizing you didn’t care to steal a glance at the state of him, but the male grabs a hold of Yoongi’s jacket and pulls him back. You wish you had tumbled over and the floor had opened up and swallowed you whole. It would have been less embarrassing than to be stuck in this situation. You want to run, you want to scream— 

“He’s drunk out of his own mind,” the male says, his voice deep like the warm wind before a tumultuous storm, fitting just right with the thunder of Yoongi’s intonation, his gaze wandering over the entirety of your shock-stricken face, taking it in; giving you the same attention that fucked you up hours ago. Yoongi begins to mumble something you can’t momentarily focus on, his hands grasping your waist, lips latching onto your neck. No, you cannot for the life of you focus because the man steals you all over again and you hate how easy it is for him to do that, when you’re far from being available. “Don’t ask what made him drink this much.”

Did Yoongi get drunk because he let his friend in on your most intimate moment? 

Humiliated, turned on and angry altogether, a concoction that simply worsens everything, you draw back from your boyfriend. You want to beat at his chest with your fists just to have some sort of relief from blaming him—because if you blame yourself, only doom consumes you. Why did he call you? Or, essentially, why didn’t he step away to take that damned video call? 

“Thanks for walking him home,” you say eventually, your voice smooth, despite the violence of your feelings, despite wanting to say something else entirely. Your first words to him and, wholeheartedly—despite it all, you hope they aren’t last, even if that possibly makes you a despicable person. 

Yoongi’s friend nods. Chews his bottom lip and lowers his gaze to the ground for a split second. You wonder if he feels the need to remove himself from this uncomfortable situation as much as you do because you can’t read anything in that paleness of his countenance. Not a hint of any emotion whatsoever, just blandness of expression, slightly dimmed by the few thick strands of black hair that have fallen from his disheveled, pushed back mullet. As if they did fight after all, perhaps on the way home, or wrestled if Yoongi was being difficult. 

You don’t realize you and the male are just staring at each other until Yoongi places his hand on your cheek, brushing back a wisp of your tresses. Only then do your eyes flick to Yoongi’s and you finally notice him, the gloss in his hooded irises searching and searching for you, the rosy blush on his cheeks, dry parted mouth and the dart of his tongue as he wets it, softening the flecks that have been created there. 

This is it. If you are focused on him, all things are made right—all things that have been stained get purified and dreams get turned into dust. This is the man you’ve fallen for, who puts you before himself and has done so every day since the moment he made you his. You can’t let anyone else get in the way of the home that your relationship has become, you can’t let your feelings flee—

“For the record,” Yoongi’s friend starts, hand massaging circles on the nape of his neck, the leather of his jacket tight around his arm. Your heart jumps and beats against your chest ferociously. “I didn’t see anything, if that helps you sleep better tonight.” 

It’s such a fat lie and you’re about to shake your head, but then he looks at you with such sincere regret that, ultimately, you choose to believe him. Just to keep your peace of mind unscarred. 

Yoongi tightens his hold around your waist, which grounds you, and a small part of you begins to bloom in healing, disseminating little by little across your whole body. 

A healer with big, round eyes. A good man. 

With a swing, Yoongi closes the door but you don’t hear the click. No, the light spills in from the hallway. Your hands reach for the doorknob but Yoongi blocks them and wraps them around his waist while swaying on his feet. He traces the shell of your ear with his lips, his alcohol-reeking breath wafting over you, and softly, you whine his name. Shuffling beyond the door, feet never entirely moving—the male is still standing outside and he hears as Yoongi hums at your call, as the sound grows into a groan at the feeling of being alone with you at last, at the feeling of all that makes you feminine under his hands. He hears your gasp as Yoongi pushes your chest flush to his body, kisses you harshly and cups your bare pussy. Hears the smack of your mouths, the pop once he withdraws, the squelch of your wetness. Hears as Yoongi murmurs, “you been horny, baby? Wet for me, hm?”

It’s those words that make him shut the door for you.

You made Yoongi drink a lot of water. 

And while he downed the glasses, you ordered him Thai food from his phone, which he now devours. You had wanted to change out of your flimsy robe into your plush pajamas, but Yoongi stopped you with a tight grip on your shoulder and with the nastiest puppy eyes he could manage, considering his plastered state, he begged you not to. Informed you that he wanted to fuck you in your little robe and you told him that if he wanted that, he needed to get sober. 

He’s your boyfriend and you trust him, but you don’t feel comfortable having sex with him while he’s wasted and you’re not. It’s a dangerous territory you don’t ever want to cross. 

So, now he eats as quietly as a mouse, feeding you every other bite with his chopsticks, meanwhile you’re jittering your leg with your arms crossed across your chest, mind full of the male who walked him home. Of the way he pulled you under and resurfaced with you soon after. Of the calm peace you feel all over the perimeter of your mind that peculiarly stresses you out. Of what would happen if you voiced your little dream to Yoongi, especially. 

Was it out of the question or would he consider it? 

Your leg jitters harder. 

You want to tell him, badly. Seeing his friend in real life changed fucking everything. If you hadn’t, you would’ve forgotten about it in the days to come. Yoongi would’ve fucked it out of you in most probability. But those eyes… those eyes got under your skin. 

“Stop fidgeting,” Yoongi scolds with his mouth full of food, no hint of slurring. The hot meal and hydration worked a miracle. “You’re making me nervous.” 

He picks up two cut pieces of chicken with his chopsticks and stuffs your mouth, adding a few pieces of vegetables as you’re chewing. Watches you swallow it, noticing how your eyes are focused on nothing in particular on the other side of the room. Tucking his utensils under his palm, he places his hand on your thigh, halting your restless motion. 

You still won’t look at him. Too lost in the overthinking maze, debating whether you should speak or remain quiet about your desire. A strong part of you fears his reaction and the other half is horrified at the possibility of being turned down—

Yoongi takes his hand away. Props it on his cheek. 

“I can see your pussy from here,” he says, licking his lips. “You’ve shaved?” 

You breathe a soft laugh, turning your head to face him, covering yourself with the small fabric. Dark, but tender eyes, void of any glossiness, awake and stirred—amused. Cheeks awash with color. Lips puffy, a dark tinge of red coating them. A sturdy fist on his cheek, the milky jawline underneath. That messy hair, the slicked-back look ruined by the constant rake of his fingers through them, now falling to the side from the middle. That slender body, clad in the night from head to toe—legs outstretched under the table. So fine, so delicious. A beautiful strong man—all yours. Why do you want another one? 

You slide your leg across his thighs and Yoongi slouches in his seat, discarding his chopsticks. 

“I shaved everything,” you respond, cocking your brow at him—a sly invitation for him to feel its smoothness. 

And he does. Runs his hand up and down your skin. Goes as far as lifting your other leg onto his lap, cradling them both, thumb caressing your calf. The movement causes your robe to expose you again and, cursing the fabric, you go to cover yourself, but Yoongi stops you. 

“Don’t bother,” he mutters. “I wanna look at it.” 

You raise your brows altogether, looking up at him. “You wanna look at her?” 

Yoongi smirks. That dangerous tug of one corner of his mouth to the side. Your death, your undoing, the root of your submission to him. “I want to have her at my disposal.”

You gulp and Yoongi catches it, chuckling. Drifts his hand down your calf, to your heel, to the middle of your foot up to your toes. He plays with your pinky. You note the fact he changed the pronoun after you did. 

Your arousal returns at full speed.

“Did that make you wet?” Low, low is his voice—you feel it prodding at your core, thrumming vehemently. 

You blossom like your roses, thoughts put to the side. 

“I’ve been wet this entire time,” you say, zeroing in your gaze on the flick of dimness that whirls past his eyes. “For hours.” 

He makes a sound of pitiful nature. “Poor baby.” Furrows his brows and juts his bottom lip out, making you weak. Lets his hand roam on your thigh. “So you listened? You didn’t touch yourself?” 

You merely nod your head quickly. You were too distressed to give your body the pleasure it sought. Too busy flaring your lungs with the burn of smoke. And you respected his wish enough to keep your hands to yourself. 

Yoongi coos. “Good girl.” 

A flashback—your lips wrapping around your slick-coated finger, Yoongi praising you and… another pair of eyes watching. Chills spread across your arms, your stomach flipping. Thankfully, your shame is kept at bay. It relieves you. 

“Can I feel how wet you are?” 

A sweet, devious smile. “If you can manage to get to her.” 

You press your thighs tightly together. Yoongi looks at you as if you’ve greatly offended him and alas, he turns your chair so you face him head-on. Forces your thighs apart without any strain at all—and there you feel it, the embarrassment of fucking with him, once your pussy is at complete disposal to him just like he wanted. 

“If your pussy wasn’t so pretty, I’d make you regret your words,” he purrs, eyes fixed on your drenched flesh, hands pushing your thighs back until your knees are at level with your shoulders, folds parting with the movement, revealing more of you. Yoongi wets his mouth with his tongue. 

He thumbs your gleaming lips back and forth, collecting your essence, mesmerized by them. Looks at you intently. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to say sorry, though,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. “Would it?” 

You grin at him. “Sorry, Yoongi.” 

He rubs your swollen clit in slow circles, still with his bedewed thumb, still with his eyes on you. You choke out a moan at the delight permeating through your being. “That’s not the proper way to apologize, now is it?”

You lean your pelvis into his touch, a natural body reaction unfolding. He disapproves. You scrunch your face. “What should I say?” 

Yoongi tuts. “I’m barely touching you and you already forgot your manners?” 

The only answer you emit is an uncouth whine. 

He shakes his head, putting pressure into his circles for a mere beat of time before he slaps your pussy curtly. A vivid spasm of pleasure fills you and you moan. “Needy girl. Don’t I take care of this pussy enough? What’s this behavior?” 

Another whine. A roll of your body, asking for more of his touch. “Spank her again.” 

A cock of his brow. Harsh, stern, evil. His hand remains propped on his thigh, shoulders hunched. “I didn’t hear you say please. You wanna be bad? You want me to make you cry?” 

You know just how much he’s capable of doing that. You shake your head ‘no’. You want gentleness, the kind you saw in his friend’s eyes—

You flutter your own shut to get rid of that thought. Take a deep breath. 

“Spank my pussy again, please.” 

Yoongi massages the apex of your thigh, dangerously close to your cunt, squeezing the flesh every once in a while. 

“Apologize first.” 

“You didn’t tell me how.” 

He clicks his tongue and pinches your folds and your clit between his fingers. You cry out, and then Yoongi gets up to his feet, leaning over you, propping his hand on the back of your chair. He begins to swiftly spank your pussy over and over again. You just jump at every contact, moaning, eyes flicked to his, never breaking apart. Taking it, taking it so well that Yoongi kisses you nastily, licking into your mouth. Then, he grunts. Fingers flat against your clit, he moves them from side to side. Roses, a myriad of them, flood your form with their freshness and dewiness, with their beauty and delectation and you shudder, you scream, you arch your back off of the backrest—

“Say, ‘I’m sorry, Yoongi. I’m such a bad girl that I deserve every spank and I’ll take it until it hurts.” 

Flabbergasted and horny beyond measure, your mouth falls agape. Your brain turns into mush, the pleasure paralyzing you, your sounds now loud and obscene, the roses in you flitting, growing and murmuring. Yoongi adds more pressure to your clit and your eyes sink back into your head, his darkness wafting over to you, seeping into your skin—now completely yours. 

You repeat after him—word for word. With a simper on your face that causes him to scowl at you, as if you dared to toy with your punishment he bestowed upon you. But then, a tongue prods the inside of his cheek and he laughs, taking a hold of his dominant role and making sure you know. He spanks your clit twice in a row, hands lifting to fondle your nipples. 

“Good,” he praises. “You like that, don’t you? Spanks on your pussy?”

You don’t like that softness. Like the personified thunder he is, it is the calm before the storm. It unnerves you, the expectation of what might come next and your disliking of it. Nonetheless, you brim with the craving to have his fingers inside of you. Your hole clenches at that and Yoongi notices, hissing under his breath. The language of the darkness rises on your tongue and you figure that if you let loose, you’ll get your wish fulfilled.

“Yeah, it feels so good—” He pinches your nipples between his knuckles and you mewl, your lashes shaking at the impact, another set of wetness coating your folds. “Please, fuck me with your fi—”

You don’t even get to finish your sentence. Yoongi plunges his middle finger into your heat, cursing at your tightness, at how slippery you are and at the delight of being filled at last, you knit your brows. With his other finger, he traces the outline of your puckered mouth, his breathing hard and ragged. 

“I’ll do anything for that pout of yours, fuck, no matter if you deserve it or not,” he utters, slipping the digit inside. Instinctively, you suck on it and only then does Yoongi begin to pump you slowly. “You just need a little roughness to be good, don’t you?” 

Dumbly, you nod, swirling your tongue around him, but a faint, silenced part of you begs for the gentleness that you know hides somewhere deep inside his chest, never once unfurled during such intimate times. 

You pay it no matter, too fucked out to think. 

When he adds a second finger into your heat, he does the same thing with his other hand. Two fingers in your cunt, two fingers in your mouth. And he fucks you with both until you gag and a light flashes in his eyes—then, he withdraws all together, leaning against the table, his bedewed fingers coming to rest at his hardened length in his pants. 

Roses, opening. Roses, sighing. 

You breathe heavily, needing to finish, needing to have him in your mouth—

“You liked being the center of attention today?” he husks, surveying your whole body, bent in half. 

There it is—the storm. Just what you expected. Cold sweat dribbles down your spine. And it is fear, what you feel, even when you refuse to admit it. Stiff, tempered fear that pervades each and every vein on your body, regarding being possibly degraded, being made feel dirty—regarding, even, tasting the dark wine of his wrath. 

Such a stark, sudden change. 

You don’t want this. You don’t want any of it.

Abruptly, an internal question comes and pokes you in the middle of your forehead.

Will you succumb to it or will you, with the wildly fresh darkness within you, fight against it?

You take a deep breath, and in with the air also follows, with the little rationality you have amidst the sensuality of your lecherous appetite, the decision to take a hold of it all. To take charge. Just like he did.

You shall prioritize yourself. Your feelings, your desires—your roses.

Your choice envelops your fear in bubble wrap. It doesn’t dissipate. And as much as it pains you, you take a mental note of that. 

“I did,” you spit out, angered by the fact you’re afraid of your boyfriend, and so you stand your ground. “It made me so fucking needy and I want more.” 

The relief that hits you almost causes you to weep and you lower your legs to the ground. Not wanting him to see the film of tears clouding your eyes, you avoid his gaze. Yoongi crosses his arms across his chest and clicks his tongue at you, disapproving. 

“Keep your legs where they belong.” 

“No.”

A lift of his brow. He crouches down to your level and cradles your face in his hand, forcing you to look at him. And there he sees, under the waterfall of your hair, your emotions at his disposal. Yoongi studies you, frowns at you and you want to sob, you want to go home. Shame slithers towards your spine like a ghost, and although it keeps a distance, you feel its presence prickling your back. You cover your cleavage. 

“Why are you crying?” Yoongi asks, a silky murmur, eyes flicking between yours. His fingers don’t caress your skin; they merely hold you firmly, making dents in the skin. 

You don’t trust that voice, dismayed by what might lie under. 

“Why did you do that to me?” you ask in return, and it’s a blue fire shooting out, engulfing the room in stifling heat. You catch a glimpse of its sparks in the dimness of his eyes, of how he’s momentarily stricken by it before it folds beneath the shadows.

“You want to get fucked by someone else?” 

A question for a question. 

You swallow down the lump in your throat, caused by your frustration. 

Your devotion to him didn’t let you go as far as to imagine being fucked by his friend while Yoongi watched, but the brief flash of it in your mind is enough incentive for the heat to spill into you, mingling with the darkness, turning you candescent, traveling through you until it finds your core—and there, it stays. There, it finds home. 

The pulse on your clit returns, filling you with abrupt energy. 

There’s something about him coming up with it that makes you unhinged, but you’re so utterly sick of the instability of your feelings. You need it to stop.

“And what if I do?” you retort. “What will you do?” 

Truthfulness, at last.

Yoongi takes in a sharp inhale of breath, and that is the only reaction you receive from him. Nothing else on his face flickers; no wrath, no sliver of jealousy, not one thing. You stare at an empty canvas, ready for you to paint on. And you simply decide that you want to start. 

You push his hand away from your face. Stand up to your feet. But the hardened look he gives you inclines you to sit back down. 

You fight against it. 

Untangling the knot on your robe, you let him see your bare femininity. The perkiness of your breasts, the long dip of your stomach that he likes to pepper kisses on. Yes, you’re aiming for his weakness. 

And you decide to repeat history. 

You reach your hand down, lower and lower while he stares you down, and you collect your glimmering essence. Sinking your finger into your mouth, you make a show of rolling your eyes back and moaning faintly, softly. Your other hand, in the meantime, unbuttons his pants. 

The breath Yoongi inhaled hitches in his throat. 

“Is this not evidence enough?” you purr, dragging down his zipper. “How else am I supposed to show you?” 

You pull his manhood out as you suck on your finger, all while maintaining eye contact. You don’t touch him beyond that. In fact, you withdraw your hand altogether. 

And then, you collect your essence again. 

This time, you smear it across his bottom lip. Yoongi lets you. Your heart thuds, threatening to jump out of your chest. 

“Your actions during the video call told me everything,” you whisper, catching the sliver of wooziness scattering along his narrowed eyes. “And I think you liked it more than me—the thought of sharing me. You can’t hide it. Not when I saw it.” 

Yoongi growls. Then, he surprises you. 

He parts his lips for you. 

And the contact of the pad of your finger with his wet tongue coaxes a string of your dewiness to drip down the side of your thigh. You moan for him. Relieved, fucked up, woozy just the same. Finally, finally, finally. 

You’re in charge. And it feels divine. 

His length twitches against the fabric of his T-shirt. Long, hard, drooling. Such a delight for you—and so you continue. 

“I also think it made you hard. Not just because you called me when I was touching myself, but because your friend was right there beside you,” you purr, your voice a seductive sound of silk—leading him to wrap his lips around your digit. You moan for him, showing him how much you like that. “Isn’t that right, baby?” Your walls clench at the pet name, solely due to the fact that these soft terms of endearment have always been addressed to you, never the other way around. It thrills you. “I’d always be devoted to you, even if he fucked me. I’d look at you the entire time. If that’s what you want. I had a different idea, but yours is just—” you pause, and again you make a show of sighing and rolling your eyes back, “better.” 

A straight hit to his core. A glee for you. 

But you don’t realize how much you fucked up until Yoongi grips your waist and the hold hurts enough that you wince. 

And then—then he manhandles you. 

Lifting you and laying you down on the table, Yoongi spreads your legs. Watches you drip, watches as the satiny fabric follows the movement of your limbs and reveals you in all your entirety. He pulls you closer to him with a sharp tug until you collide with the tops of his thighs. Bends over you. Hovers his lips above yours. You expect him to kiss you—he even angles his head and rubs the side of his nose against yours—but he never does. 

He only leaves you waiting. Leaves you submitted to your empty expectations, taking charge, taking his control back from you. You shiver in anticipation, reaching for him, however he pins your hands down on either side of you. An angel in a rose garden. 

Yoongi chuckles, darkly, his teeth glinting in the yellow light. You fight against his hold, hips rolling against the underside of his length, beckoning him to do something, anything. You merely manage to prolong the thunder of his laughter. 

“One cock isn’t enough for her, so baby wants two,” he spits. That smirk, the crinkles around his eyes—he’s enjoying this. The hint of degradation doesn’t reflect what’s swarming inside of him, doesn’t reflect the face of pleasure coursing down his body. You smile and he scoffs. “I have enough friends for you to choose from in case you want more. I think you’d be stellar at taking three cocks. Four, even, huh? Would you have enough then? One in your tight little virgin ass, two in your cunt, one down your throat?” 

You gulp, frozen, eyes widening. 

Yoongi bites his shiny lips, nudging the tip of his nose against yours. Kisses you once. Begins to rock his hips, his length sliding across your wet fleshiness. The moan that escapes your throat trembles with each delicious motion. 

“You watch too much porn, honey,” he coos, giving you tiny kisses on the mouth. “I’d kill anyone who would come near this pussy. And I’d kill Jungkook, too, if he so much as glanced at her.” 

So that’s his name. You mewl, knitting your brows. That’s his pretty name. The entirety of your form shivers at the discovery, at the pleasure given to your throbbing clit. 

Yoongi pulls back, setting your hands free. 

You prop your elbows on the table, pouting. Yoongi grasps his length, spreads his arousal and begins to jerk himself off. 

“You’re not fucking Jungkook. You’re mine.” He groans, squeezing his tip; your hole clenches. “Rub your clit.” 

Like him, you spread your arousal on your seashell, the arousal long caused by his presence and now the mention of his name—the reason behind your frustration and his, the reason why you’re spread on the dining table, why your boyfriend is hard. You rub your clit from side to side, amused. 

“No,” Yoongi disapproves, knowing you do the motion when you want to prolong the build-up. “Circles. Make yourself come.” 

You change direction, obeying him. A sly grin blossoms on your lips, dark eyes looking up into his, permeating them, permeating into his soul. You pick up the pace, moaning into your expression of elation. 

“Jungkook is such a pretty name,” you provoke and you heighten your sounds in volume and intensity just to piss him off, just to have your way. 

A grunt escapes him, matching your pace. He wraps his fingers around your throat and squeezes. You hum. 

“A pretty name to moan in my opinion.” A layer of sweat coats your body. Yoongi grasps your jawline firmly and your satisfied laughter inches you closer to your orgasm. You feel the hot flashes, roses surrounding you—its tender petals grazing your feverish skin. You give in, watching Yoongi do the same, his mouth in a tight line, hissing and sizzling, an open fire, an open fire you want to be radiated by, burned whole by. “Just imagine him here, watching us. Oh my god, imagine him knowing he’s the reason why you and I are doing this.” 

Yoongi has had enough. 

He pushes you down harshly. Fills your hole to the hilt without letting you adjust, observing himself disappearing inside of you and begins to pound you into the table. The sound of skin slapping, the hard and quick strokes, the ravaged grunts he lets out, the fast change—it all takes your breath away, so much that you can’t, in fact, breathe. He grabs your face and makes you look at him. The dead of the night captured in his features, you absorb it, whining like the brat you are onto his mouth, mingling into your noises your approval, your yes’. 

Swallowing it, he kisses you, keeping his eyes open. “He could never fuck you like this.” 

You laugh. He swallows that, too, moaning. “What if he could?” 

He taps you on the cheek, a warning, giving you an exceptionally hard stroke that causes you to scream. He pauses. Does it again. Over and over—and your screams echo across the room, your own soul slipping out of your body. Petals flutter against you and you’re done for, hanging off the edge. You’re close, so terribly close. Your eyesight blurs and Yoongi pulls out entirely and rams into you. Again and again, abusing your cervix. 

You moan his name, gone—entirely gone. 

“Yes, moan my name like that. Just mine,” he mutters. “Who’s fucking you this good? Who’s gonna make you come?”��

He rams into you more rapidly than before. Your senses leave you until all that you know is Yoongi. His name, his scent, the wholeness of the night encompassing him. 

“You, Yoongi, you. Fuck, I—”

Yoongi laughs maniacally. “Yes, that’s right. That’s my good girl.” 

He rolls his hips, slowing down the coming of your orgasm, owning you. Lets your senses come back to you momentarily. You swallow, your throat dry and you blink, dazed still. Yoongi kisses you, giving you all that he took from you. 

“Who’s only capable of fucking you like this, honey, hm?” he asks, his voice tender and sing-song. “My pretty honey, so fucked out. So out of it.” 

You whine and you don’t control what comes out of you, your body answering for you. “You, Yoongi. You’re fucking me so—so good. I can’t—fuck. You’re the only one.” 

He smiles down at you fondly, kissing your nose, then your lips, parting your mouth and swirling his tongue around yours briefly. Then he withdraws, begins to fuck you again, slowly, reaching to the side for something. 

Once you see his phone in his hand, your heart stops. And when he puts the device to his ear, your throat dries up even more. You suddenly become aware of the silence all around, especially in your chest. You can’t breathe, you can’t blink—

Yoongi jackhammers into you, purposefully luring your loud noises out of you. “My girlfriend wants to fuck you.” 

You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut, the suddenness, the quickness of pleasure you haven’t yet felt piercing you. Fuck hot flashes and petals, you feel a heavy urge of your orgasm closing down on you. 

“She’s so desperate for you, even when I’m fucking the life out of her.” 

You flutter your eyes open to see Yoongi surveying you. You scrunch your face—so close, so fucking close—and then he puts the phone to your ear. Breathing, hard, ragged breathing fills all of your senses and you come. 

It’s an explosion. Roses bursting, their dew soaking you and Yoongi whole and you exit. You exit out of this situation, this world, this universe while your soul remains here with them. Vibrancy, colors so beautiful and sensations so vivid, ardent and fierce. You don’t know what it is you’re feeling or where you are. That is, until Yoongi’s voice yanks you back to planet Earth, back into this world, this situation—back to them. 

“In fact, she just came for you. Squirted.” 

You sob. Overstimulated, rhapsodic, but effulgent. Yes, you emit light and glow. You can see it in Yoongi’s softened eyes. 

“Think about it. No pressure. Just know she won’t shut up about you. I recall her saying your name would be pretty to moan while she played with her pussy. I think it’s only right you fuck it out of her.” 

With that, he hangs up. 

You brim with so many emotions that it numbs you. Happy tears flow out of your tear ducts—and happily, endearingly, Yoongi chortles. You don’t even feel humiliation or shame. On the contrary, you’re ready to come again. 

Yoongi kisses you and the sounds he slips into your mouth divulge how happy he is about this, how pleased he is with himself. 

You pout, burning your eyesight into his. He begins to rut into you. 

“What, you’re not even gonna thank me?” he says, grinning, as if he wasn’t fucking you at all, as if you two were still sitting at the dinner table, conversing. 

You stammer, head empty, silencing yourself and trying again. “What—what made you change your mind?” 

Yoongi places open-mouthed, wet kisses along the bone of your jaw, and there he seals his answer. “I made up my mind the moment you admitted you wanted to be fucked by him, but you wouldn’t shut up about him. I wanted to hear you babble for me. About me. I just had to mess you up to get to that point.” 

You mewl, running your hands through his sweat-slicked hair. Like a cat, he perks up to your touch, lifting his head, angling it. He kisses you, deeply. Kisses your relief. 

“Where are your manners, hm?” he whispers onto your mouth, giving you hard strokes that erase your vocabulary. You want to make him come and so you push against his thrusts, but to no avail. The intensity won’t allow you. 

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you murmur, cradling his face, pecking him, giving him the softest eyes you could muster so you can show him how much it means to you. 

He approves of your effort on bettering your manners and to reward you, he lifts you up and fucks you in the air. Your breasts bounce against the material of his T-shirt, stimulating you and he alters between jackhammering into you and sliding you up and down on his length. Your pussy squelches around his girth, tightening and Yoongi—

Yoongi loses his mind. 

And it’s him who begins to babble when you snap your hips down on him in circles. 

“Just like that, honey, oh fuck. So good, so good for me.” 

He takes it until his sounds grow in volume and you focus so much on his pleasure that you forget about yours. 

But you don’t let him take charge. 

“Let me fuck you, please, Yoongi. I wanna make you come.” 

Just like you, he’s out of it and because of that, because you asked so nicely, he lets you. 

His chest heaves, staccatos of his choked out breaths sail through the room and you can see it on his face that he’s close. Brows furrowed, bottom lip bleeding due to the way he bites hard on it, the way his mouth pops open and his eyes flutter closed. 

You hold onto his neck with your dear life. 

“Look at me,” you demand and swirl your hips in slow circles around his tip. “I want you to look at me when you come.” 

You’re so stunned that he allows you to be in charge, even more when he truly does open his eyes and pierces his gaze into yours. 

“I need to pull out,” he breathes, but you shake your head, snapping your hips down on him harshly.

“No, I want your cum in me. And I want it to be inside of me when Jungkook fucks me.” 

Yoongi grunts and this is it for him. His cock twitches in you, over and over again and then you feel it—the hot, thick ropes of his cum stuffing you full. You’re so mesmerized by the feeling, by the blissfulness evident on his face, by the smoothness between his brows at last that you can’t even milk him dry. You’re frozen, stupefied by his beauty, by his personal rapture and you want to feel it in unity with him. You kiss him. 

It’s him who fucks him cum into you, burying it deep, moaning into your lip lock. 

It’s him who lays you down to your original position and briefly, feebly licks the sheen on your spread lips before devouring your clit. 

It’s him who gives you the fastest orgasm of your life. 

And it’s him who tells you—in the shower—the story of how he almost beat up Jungkook black and blue once he heard him say how pretty you are.

And it’s you who checks up on him. 

“You sure you’re okay with this?” 

You’re stroking his hair in the bed, the duvet heavy and warm around your body and his, the night overflowing into morning—Yoongi, too. 

He’s falling asleep, but still conscious, still here with you, purring. 

“I wouldn’t be waking him up in the middle of the night if I wasn’t,” he whispers, opening his eyes to look at you, to see you enveloped in the extra blanket of the dawn’s rosy light—glowing, throwing the sun off of its throne. “Poor guy just got out of the military and you’ve already rocked his world.” 

You smile, fondly, thumb caressing his temple. Yoongi hums in appreciation. 

“I’m happy for him he’s getting pussy—one that’s mine. Before he enlisted, he spent all his time painting and getting drunk alone,” he pauses in a thought, blinking at the light. “You still want this?” 

You nod, settling into his chest. Yoongi pulls you closer, tucking the duvet into the lines of your form, bringing in comfort and sleepiness. 

“I’ll make sure you have the time of your life. I’ll be here the whole time, taking care of you,” he promises against your hair and you squeeze him. 

“He hasn’t said yes, though. He could turn me down.” 

“I’ve seen the way he looked at you. You have nothing to fear. He’ll come to you like a puppy.” 

Yoongi sinks the promise onto the plane of your forehead and holds you as you drift to sleep. Happy, relieved, steamed off of all the negative things you went through. It evaporates into the dawn—far, far away from you. 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist / READ part two 

[ventismacchiato]

12 stuck with you — kiss kiss fall in love !

scaramouche x gender neutral reader

The ringing of a phone pierces through the quiet and drags you from sleep. Disoriented, you blink at the dim light seeping in through the skylight. The sound was vibrating against the bedside table and as you reached for it half-asleep you felt the unmistakable warmth of someone's body tangled with yours.

Your eyes fly open. Scaramouche.

You feel the way your body tenses up, as it usually does when you’re with the idiot. You turn your face and find him just inches away from yours. The pillow you’d place between you two long gone on the floor as the only thing separating you both was the thin comforter.

For a moment, Scaramouche looks oddly peaceful, with his dark hair tousled against the pillow and his brows not creased in its usual scowl towards you. That’s until his eyes open from the sound and he sends you a glare.

“Shut that up,” he grumbles, sitting up and reaching over you to shut it off himself. His body hovers over you and you can see his shirt hang low enough to see his stomach. The warmth of his body radiates through the thin fabric separating you both, and for a split second, you’re hyper-aware of just how close you are. The gentle weight of him leaning over makes your pulse quicken.

You expected him to make a snide comment about how your legs were still tangled together but he doesn’t. It's as if waking up practically wrapped around each other is just another morning for you two. He doesn't acknowledge it, doesn’t even meet your eyes, and for some reason, that silence makes the moment even more charged.

With the phone in hand, he flops back into his spot beside you, muttering something under his breath, the tension between you two as palpable as the fading echo of the ringtone as he wordlessly lays away from you.

“Fuck do you want you old hag,” Scara grumbles, putting the phone on speaker.

“Good morning!” Yae Miko’s voice is far too cheerful for this hour. “We’ve got a little emergency. Some rumors are starting to circulate about the show being fake.”

Your blood runs cold. “Wait, what?"

"Exactly what it sounds like," Yae continues, almost too calm for the bomb she's dropping. "Which means we need you two to handle it. Get dressed and head to the hot tub. We’ll film a ‘leaked’ kissing scene to throw people off. Make it look real.”

"At five in the morning?" Scaramouche groans, his voice laced with annoyance.

Yae’s voice, ever so sly, comes back through. “Is there a problem? Oh, and don’t forget to make it convincing. The public loves a good scandal!”

You reach over and hang up without answering, already dreading the awkwardness that’s about to unfold. You both lay there for a few minutes, your upcoming fate and lack of sleep not motivating either of you.

“I can see you both slacking off!” Lisa’s voice from the intercoms yell, causing you both to sit up abruptly.

“Fucking perv,” Scara mutters, sliding the comforter off as you follow suit.

“Let’s just get it over with,” you say, avoiding his gaze.

He scoffs but doesn’t argue, instead dragging himself up and throwing on the same outfit from last night. You do the same, trying not to think about the fact that you’ll be practically glued to him in about ten minutes.

By the time you make it to the hot tub, the early morning air bites at your skin, the sky still dark. The hot water looks almost inviting compared to the chill, though the thought of what you’re about to do makes your stomach churn.

You lower yourself into the water, already feeling the tension settle in as Scaramouche follows suit. It’s quiet—too quiet—until he mutters, “So, how are we doing this?”

You sink lower into the water, heat creeping up your neck. "I guess… I sit on your lap, and we angle ourselves so it looks like we're kissing."

He gives you a look, something unreadable flashing in his eyes, before nodding. “Fine.”

“Well, get on with it!” Yae’s voice yells from god knows where.

Reluctantly, you move closer an inch. And then another. And then one more.

“For fucks sake, we’ll be here all day,” Scara huffs, reaching out to slide a hand around your waist and yanking you closer. You yelp at the suddenness as you slide onto his lap. His hands find your waist, holding you steady as your heart pounds in your ears. This position is way more intimate than you’d expected. There was nowhere to look but at him with his chest solid against yours. The steam rising from the water makes the air feel thick.

You tilt your head back, just enough so that it looks like you’re about to kiss, hoping that the camera will get the right angle without you two having to go through with it.

“This is good but while we’re here, why don’t you both just kiss,” Lisa yells from the intercom, "Now that will shut down the rumors.”

Your entire body stiffens at Lisa's suggestion, the weight of her words settling in like stones in your stomach. You shift slightly on Scaramouche’s lap, trying to ignore the situation at hand.

“You’ve got to stop shifting like that,” Scara says under his breath, holding your hips still with his hands. He lets out an annoyed sigh, his grip on your waist tightening just slightly. “Let’s just get it over with,” he mutters, leaning in a little closer, his expression unreadable but tense.

You open your mouth to speak, but the words catch in your throat. Instead, you manage to stammer, “I’ve… never kissed anyone before.”

There’s a beat of silence. You brace yourself, expecting him to make fun of you, to twist this into some new way to tease you relentlessly. Maybe he’ll laugh about how he knew you were a virgin like he usually does or call you pathetic for having no experience.

But that doesn’t happen.

Scaramouche just stares at you, his eyes flickering with something—maybe surprise, maybe something else entirely—but then he simply sighs, and his expression softens just a fraction. If you hadn’t spent so much time glaring at him all your career you wouldn’t have even noticed.

“Fine,” he says, his voice calmer than you expected. “I’ll guide it. Just follow my lead.”

Before you can process what’s happening, he takes one of your hands and places it on his shoulder, the other by his nape. The heat from his skin is almost unbearable in contrast to the cool air, and you can feel the slight tension in his muscles under your fingers.

You swallow hard, unsure of how to respond, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. But Scaramouche’s eyes are steady on yours, his lips close enough that you can feel his breath on your skin.

“Relax,” he murmurs, as if that’s an easy thing to do. His hand on your waist moves up slightly, settling just beneath your ribs, grounding you as he tilts his head a fraction closer. “It’s not that hard, dumbass”

Your body feels like it’s caught in two different worlds—one of panic and another of dizzying anticipation. You’ve never been this close to anyone, let alone someone you’ve spent so much time despising. But there’s no mockery in his gaze now, no smug grin. Just a quiet, unspoken agreement between the two of you to get this over with.

The last thing you see before shutting your eyes are Scara’s lips, which fall gently open the moment he leans in to kiss yours.

Scaramouche closes the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, hesitant way. It’s not like you imagined a kiss would feel. It’s… gentle, almost patient, like he’s allowing you the time to catch up. His hand shifts, guiding you closer as the kiss deepens, but not by much—just enough to make the world outside of this moment blur.

Your body, tense from anticipation, crumbles into abandon. The beat of your heart is too loud in your chest, emotions lodged in your throat, and soft dark hair curling through the spaces between your fingers.

You find yourself following his lead without thinking, your fingers tightening slightly against the back of his neck as you lean into the kiss. There’s no rush, no urgency. It’s almost like he’s teaching you without words, each movement purposeful but slow, as if he’s trying not to overwhelm you. It’s a contrast to his usual demeanor, where he seemed like he was always one step ahead. He seemed so out of reach.

But now here he was, barely an inch away from you and letting you catch up.

When he finally pulls back, it’s only by a few inches, and his gaze lingers on your lips before flicking back up to your eyes.

“There,” he says, his voice quieter now. “Wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You’re too stunned to respond right away, the world around you coming back into focus in slow motion. The water, the cold air, the fact that this was all supposed to be for show. But for a moment, you’d forgotten that.

“No,” you finally manage, your voice barely above a whisper. “I guess not.”

“Your lips were chapped,” Scaramouche adds with a smirk, because of course he does. The teasing lilt in his voice grates on you, breaking the moment that had felt so strangely…intimate.

Without hesitation, you flick his forehead, the satisfying thunk earning a small grunt from him. Before he can retaliate, you quickly slide off his lap, distancing yourself in the water. The warmth of the hot tub is nothing compared to the heat still lingering on your face.

“That was GREAT,” Yae’s voice screeches through the intercom, cutting through the awkwardness like a knife. “THAT TWITTER USER CAN EAT MY ASS!”

You can practically see her smug grin, and it makes you groan internally. Great. Now your first kiss is going to be broadcast as a PR stunt to shut down rumors. You shift uncomfortably, trying to push down the strange mix of emotions swirling in your chest—annoyance, disbelief, and something you can’t quite place. Your lips still tingle from the kiss that wasn’t even supposed to happen.

Yae gives the signal that they’ve got the footage they need so you get ready to leave. As you move to climb out of the tub, Scaramouche stays behind, seemingly unfazed. You’re doing your best to ignore him, but his voice cuts through the steam and your scattered thoughts.

“It doesn’t have to count.”

You pause, turning your head slightly. “What?”

“The kiss,” he says, his tone almost casual, like this whole conversation is no big deal. “If first kisses are something stupid you care about… this one doesn’t have to count.”

You blink at him, trying to process his words. “What are you talking about?”

Scaramouche’s gaze flickers over to you, his face unreadable but his voice softening just a bit. “Your real first kiss can be with someone you actually care about. Doesn’t have to be this.” He gestures vaguely between you two, as if the kiss you just shared is nothing more than a contractual obligation—just part of the game. Which it was. But at the end of the day it was still your first kiss.

You stare at him, trying to make sense of the words he just said, of the way his tone has softened like he’s actually trying to spare you something for once.

“It was still my first,” you mutter, more to yourself than to him.

Scaramouche's eyes flicker, a shadow of something crossing his face before his expression hardens again. He leans his head back against the edge of the tub, arms crossing over his chest. “Look,” he starts, his voice dropping to that low, lazy tone he uses when he’s about to say something he knows is going to piss you off. “I know I’m an asshole most of the time—”

“Most of the time?” you cut in, eyebrow raised.

He glares at you, but there’s no real heat in it. “Shut up and let me finish, will you?”

You bite back the retort bubbling in your throat, nodding slightly for him to continue.

“I’m an asshole, yeah,” he says again, a little slower this time. “But I’m not that much of an asshole. If… if this is something that matters to you, then don’t let it. You can still have your real first kiss with someone who—” He hesitates, eyes shifting to the side for a second, and you could swear you see the faintest hint of uncertainty in his gaze before he forces it away. “—someone who means something to you.”

The words hang in the air between you, thick and heavy with something unspoken. You can’t tell if he’s saying it because he genuinely believes it or if he’s just trying to make this whole mess easier for you. Either way, it’s not like him to care, and that fact alone makes your chest tighten with confusion. Maybe he just pitied you.

“Anyway, don’t get all emotional about it,” he adds, his voice back to its usual flippant tone. “I’m not gonna hold your hand through it.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” you snap back, but there’s no bite to your words. Instead, you’re left with the lingering thought of what he just said, the weight of his strange attempt at comfort settling in your chest.

Before you can say anything else, Scaramouche pushes himself up from the water, his hands gripping the edge of the tub as he turns his back to you. “Let’s just get out of here before Yae comes up with another stupid idea.”

This was what you’d expected. Scaramouche being uncomfortable with you both being so close and you feeling sick at the thought. There was a kind of comfort in predictability, and you and Scara’s relationship was so goddamn predictable.

[00:00:00] KISS INTERVIEW ONE, TAKE ONE

YAE: So, tell us all about that little kiss that got leaked!

SCARAMOUCHE: It was alright. YAE: [GESTURES FOR HIM TO KEEP GOING]

SCARAMOUCHE: It was great and…[SQUINTS AT SIGN YAE IS HOLDING] life changing, their lips were soft as flower petals and…Yae this is stupid, I’m not reading this. Who wrote this? It’s terrible.

YAE: I wrote it! It’s romantic!

SCARAMOUCHE: It’s gross. Who the hell describes a kiss like this?

JEAN, SIGHING: Why don’t you use your own words to describe it? SCARAMOUCHE: Fake. 

JEAN: Cut!

[00:17:38] KISS INTERVIEW ONE, TAKE TWO

YAE: Let’s try this again. Can you describe the kiss in your own words?

SCARAMOUCHE: It wasn’t planned, okay? It just…I don’t know.

YAE: That’s all you’re giving us? C’mon, this is your big moment. Tell the fans something juicy!

SCARAMOUCHE: [EXHALES SHARPLY, LOOKS AWAY] I don’t know… I guess I… I feel bad about it.

YAE: Bad? Why would you feel bad? Was the kiss not good?

SCARAMOUCHE: [RUNS A HAND THROUGH HIS HAIR, HESITATES] I’m not the kind of guy people would want their first kiss with. And, yeah… it was their first. I know it was supposed to be this whole act, but I… I shouldn’t have taken that from them, not like that.

YAE: [RAISES AN EYEBROW] So, you actually care?

SCARAMOUCHE: [AVERTS EYES] Care? I… [PAUSES] No. Maybe. It just wasn’t fair to them, that’s all.

LISA: When you say “not like that” do you mean you wished you’d kissed them in a different setting?

SCARAMOUCHE: [GLARES AT LISA] I’m not answering something stupid as that.

YAE: Oh, come on! This is what everyone wants to know. Don’t you think the fans deserve a little honesty?

SCARAMOUCHE: [CROSSES HIS ARMS] I’ve given you plenty. I already told you, it wasn’t fair to them. Isn’t that enough?

LISA: [SMILING] Just admit it—you’re dodging because you actually feel something.

SCARAMOUCHE: [LEANS BACK, SIGHING] Look, if you’re expecting some big confession, you’re wasting your time. It was a job. That’s it. 

YAE: [SHARING A SMIRK WITH LISA] Right, because I also kiss my coworkers passionately all in the name of “just doing my job.”

[00:00:00] KISS INTERVIEW TWO, TAKE ONE

YAE: Alright, Y/N, let’s dive in! 

Y/N: [FROWNS AT CARD] Why does the thingy say kiss this time?

YAE: Because we all want to know what went down in the hot tub with Scara! 

Y/N: [SQUINTS AT YAE'S SIGN] I can’t even read the script you’re holding. My eyesight’s terrible. Does that seriously say, “His lips felt like heaven?”

YAE: [GRINNING] Yes! It’s good, right? Very romantic!

Y/N: [RAISES AN EYEBROW] Romantic? It sounds like something out of a cheap romance novel.

YAE: [GIGGLING] Well, Scara said my writing was terrible too. You two are totally synced, it seems.

JEAN: [SIGHS AND PLACES HER HEAD IN HER HANDS] We might be here a while…

YAE: Cut! Alright, let’s reset. [DEEP BREATH] Take two.

[00:05:43] KISS INTERVIEW TWO, TAKE TWO

YAE: [ROLLING HER EYES] Okay, just… talk about how hot his body was or something. Give the fans what they want!

Y/N: [STRAIGHT-FACED] I’d rather not.

LISA: [GIGGLES] Then maybe just tell us what it was like losing your first kiss to him.

JEAN: Lisa! That’s kind of insensitive…

Y/N: [SHRUGS] It’s fine. Surprisingly, I’m not that mad about it. I’ve known Scara for years, so… at least it wasn’t with some stranger.

YAE: [GIGGLING, LEANING IN] So… was it any good?

Y/N: [ROLLS EYES] I mean, I don’t exactly have anything to compare it to.

YAE: [TEASING] So you’re saying he set the bar?

Y/N: [CROSSES ARMS, SHRUGS] I’m saying I survived. Let’s leave it at that.

JEAN: [UNDER HER BREATH] Why do I feel like we’re making this worse? 

LISA: [CHUCKLING] Because we probably are.

[00:00:00] BEACH INTERVIEW ONE, TAKE ONE

YAE: So, Childe, tell us—how are you enjoying the beach so far? Getting some time to unwind?

CHILDE: [SMILING] Yeah, it’s been nice. But it’s a little too quiet without Scara and Y/N bickering in the background. You’d think I’d enjoy the peace, but… kinda miss the chaos, you know?

YAE: [CHUCKLES] Oh? Seems like you got used to it. How’s everyone managing without Scara?

CHILDE: Well, he was the best cook, surprisingly. So now everyone’s struggling. Dinner last night was... [SHUDDERS] Let’s just say nobody knew how to work the stove.

YAE: [LAUGHS] Sounds rough. So, I have to ask—any romance brewing in the group?

CHILDE: [GRINS, LEANS IN] Between you and me, I keep seeing Xiao and Kazuha sneaking off for these little “walks” along the shore. But hey, maybe they’re just out there for a smoke or something. 

JEAN: [OFF-CAMERA, SIGHS] Childe, don’t bring up smoking!

CHILDE: Right, right! I mean, they’re, uh… stargazing. Totally innocent. Just two guys appreciating the stars.

YAE: Cut!

stuck with you!

masterlist — prev | next

lmk if the written portion below pic helped, if i’m able to fit in it i’ll include it from now on

a few tags don’t work anymore so if u wanna be in the taglist lmk in the comments and ill keep it in mind

pls comment or send me an ask if u enjoyed i need motivation 🙂‍↕️

comment on the MASTERLIST if i can use ur user as a fan in the au!

synopsis — after the disaster that was the live award show, where you and scaramouche got into an argument on stage after both of your groups got a tie for top artists, your guys' PR teams have been in shambles trying to scrape up your mess. that's when the idea to send you both off with some other idols to a remote location for a survival dating show to mend your public image comes up. before you know it your bags are packed and you’re on a plane to a remote island. the only obligation is you need to end up with scaramouche at the end of the show, whether you end up liking him or not doesn’t matter to your managers as long as the show’s ratings stay high. whatever you do in between to get there is up to you!

notes — i rlly do wanna update more but college is kicking my ass so pls be patient with me :’) my semester ends in a few weeks and then next spring my classes won’t end at 7pm every night so i should have more free time 🙂‍↕️

taglist — @na1lea @cindywasneverhere @lunavixia @aestherin @mlaakai @camvrin @retiredmommylover @iheartpieck @jangyung @cartierfiles @loveariel @silly-ez @mochipls @pomeiu @chuuismylife @flowerypesky @creammpuff @justanothertiredreader @boxdisappeared @kissingkzuha @webbywill @kazusboyfriend @s3xpistolss @pjsucks @bunns-wonderland @lordbugs @localgirlywithnolife @kosumos @danfelions @featuredtofu @pinxeajin @herebyaccident0 @haeunoo @scaradooche @pglt19 @chemiru @childesbabygirl @simonisferal @shutingstar @ttalgi @esuz @tokkishouse @kitsuvil @scarasmood @ihearttori @nomurahayami @starringyau @androxphobic @reivelmin @animeobsessed56 @femaholicc

[puckinghischier]

so the clip of quinn asking the producer if his hair looks good, we’ve all seen it, right? cause i’m just thinking about it and how yeah it was probably a joke, but it’s sooooo insecure!quinn coded. like i’m sure he was nervous, and he really did want to look good for the camera. and it’s got me thinking about what it would be like to comfort insecure!quinn (i didn’t mean for this to be this long but i couldn’t stop once i started so here’s basically a three in one blurb 🫣)

it’s even things as simple as his pre-game outfits. he’s seen all the comments online about how he only wears the same few suits, so one day while you’re on the couch watching tv, he turns to you and asks if you’ll go shopping with him. of course you agree, but you ask him what’s got him so eager to expand his wardrobe.

“just…people keep saying i’m wearing the same thing all the time and it has me thinking i should probably go buy a couple more suits to wear for arrival pictures and stuff,” he shrugs, almost whispering, telling you it’s something he’s slightly embarrassed about.

you reach over and run your hand through his hair, playing with the messy curls. “q, who cares if you wear the same suit every game day? you’re wearing it to walk in the building and out of it,” you speak softly to him, noticing he’s not meeting your eye. “but, if you want to go pick up a few more, i’d love to go with you and help you pick them out,” you tug lightly on his hair to get him to look over at you, bringing your hand down to toy with the tip of his ear.

he gives you a bashful smile, mumbling out a small “thanks,” before looking away again.

you lean over, replacing your hand on his ear with your mouth. “plus, you know how much i love looking at you in a suit,” you let your lips drag over the warm skin. “almost as much as i love looking at you without one on.”

quinn shudders at the feeling of your hot breath on his ear, making him forget what he was even thinking about before the current conversation.

~

of course, quinn’s constantly worried about being a good captain for his team, too. he doesn’t think he’s played long enough to earn it yet, not understanding why they picked him over some of the vets on the team.

so when he comes home after a particularly rough practice or a brutal loss, you can feel the insecurity radiating off of his body. the game that eliminated them from the playoffs, though? god, you never want to relive it.

he laid in your arms for hours, switching between crying and getting angry at himself. he kept telling you it was his fault. he was the reason they didn’t make it. they should’ve chosen a different person to be captain, not him. he clearly didn’t know what he was doing, or they’d be celebrating tonight instead.

you know that most of this is caused by the questions he was asked after the game. one reporter in particular always asking the worst questions and getting under his skin. but you’re sure the group of drunk, upset fans outside of the rink who were yelling discouraging things to him only drove the knife deeper.

the way he talked about himself with so much disgust broke your heart in a way you never knew was possible. you knew he was always hardest on himself, but the fact he truly believes these things makes you worry you haven’t been doing your job correctly.

“quinn, i don’t ever want to hear you talk about yourself like that again, do you hear me?” you sat up, talking sternly but not harshly.

“well, it’s true. if they would’ve just picked someone else then-“

“stop!” you interrupted him, your sudden loudness causing him to pause, looking at you with wide eyes. “i’m sorry, i’m not trying to yell at you, but i’m not going to sit here and listen to you do this to yourself any longer,” you put just a few inches of distance between you and him on the large couch.

“you’re exactly who they wanted to lead this team or they wouldn’t have chosen you. you do have what it takes. hell, quinn, you got the team to the playoffs for the first time in 4 years. that has to count for something,” the tone of your voice is almost pleading, begging him to take what you’re saying to heart.

“your teammates love you. they look up to you. the fans love you. they were excited when you were named captain. i love you,” you take a moment, watching his face slowly change from distress to calm. “and i won’t sit here and listen to you say awful things about the man that i love. not for something that changes nothing about how i feel about you or your value as the captain of your team,” you finish, a knot forming in your throat because of how deeply you feel about the man sitting in front of you.

quinn just sits and looks at you, finally snapped out of his self destruct mode. “i…love you so much, you know that?” he tells you before pulling you into him and engulfing you in one of his ‘huggybear’ hugs.

“you’re right. i’m here because i deserve to be. and if you believe in me, who cares what anyone else thinks? i’ve got the best motivation right here in front of me,” he speaks into your neck, squeezing you tightly to his body, like he’s trying to press you into his skin, knowing he can always count on you to talk him out of his insecurities.

~

you get the rare moments, too, where quinn starts comparing himself to his brothers. you’d think as the oldest he’d know better, knowing that the two younger boys have always looked up to him, but once the media started trying to pit the three against each other, the seed of doubt crept its way into his thoughts.

it’s not even just about hockey, either. it’s the way jack is always so outgoing, the life of the party. and luke always seems so universally adored, his bashful charm winning him over with crowds.

quinn? quinn feels like he’s just…there. he can’t strike up a conversation as naturally as jack can. and his shyness seems to only drive people away, not draw people in, like luke’s.

and yeah, quinn knows you’re always there with him, keeping him company and being his buffer in all of the various social settings he finds himself in, but he can’t help but wish he was a little bit more like his brothers.

especially right now, when he’s sitting by the fire pit at the family lake house, a few of brother’s shared friends over for the weekend.

he’s sitting in a chair sipping on a beer, watching you partake in a heated game of beer pong with jack, luke, trevor, and cole. all day he’s felt a little…less than. watching you on the boat earlier dancing around to your favorite song with jack, not worrying about who might float by and see the two of you.

or when you were helping prep dinner, and trevor came up to you and struck up a conversation, talking a mile a minute while you kept up with and soaked up every word, adding to the conversation with just as much enthusiasm at the drop of a hat.

or right now, when cole is picking you up and swinging you around after you just won the drinking game, launching into your ‘secret’ handshake the two of you coined a few summers ago.

he wishes he could give you those things. the loud, crazy, fun atmosphere you seem to thrive in. he wishes he could be the guy to parade you around at all of the hockey banquets, introducing you to various people. he wants to dress up with you on halloween in the ridiculous couples costumes you always show him. to be the spontaneous boyfriend that goes diving off of the small cove cliffs on the lake like you love to do with jack.

but that’s just…not who he is. he likes to be quiet, observant, lowkey, private. he likes to listen to other people carry the conversation, and just chime in when he has something to add. he likes to drive the boat and watch everyone else splash around in the water, jumping in for a few minutes just to cool off before resuming his position on the driver’s seat. he hates going to the bar after games with his teammates, but agrees because he knows you like dressing up and going out.

he loves when the two of you spend time reading together on the couch, then order dinner in and watch a movie before bed. he likes the fact that the two of you can sit in silence, both comfortable enough to not feel the need to fill the space with empty conversation. he likes being able to come home to you after the loud environment of the game to the sweet whisper of your voice, because you know how he likes the soft tone after the arena full of screams and sirens.

but he can’t help but feel like he’s causing you to be less for him, seeing how much life you seem to have in times like these.

he’s broken out of his little pity party when you come running over to him. “quinny!! did you see that! we won! i won!” you fling your half-drunk self down onto his lap, beaming your beautiful smile to him.

“i did. looked like you were having fun,” he says with a smile, but his tone is flat.

he watches your smile fade slightly, cocking your head at him. “you okay?” you ask him, always able to tell when something’s not right in that mysterious brain of his.

“yeah, m’just tired. might head in early,” he tells you, drumming his fingers along the tanned skin of your leg, signaling he’s about to stand up.

“okay…well then i’ll go with you. just gotta tell the guys goodnight first,” you respond skeptically, removing yourself from his lap as he stands.

“no, no, don’t wanna ruin your fun. just come to bed when you’re done, yeah? don’t drink too much, sweetheart,” quinn shakes his head, placing a kiss on the top of your head before turning and walking away from you, leaving you confused.

you watch quinn walk up the stone steps, stopping in the dimly lit kitchen to hover over the sink for a few moments, staring out the window looking over the dark lake. you can tell by his body language something is bothering him, so you turn and walk over to tell the rest of the group that you’re heading to bed, ignoring their protests of ‘you’re no fun! quinn’s made you boring!’ with a playful show of your middle finger as you walk away, following quinn’s same path.

quinn’s so lost in thought he doesn’t hear the kitchen door open or the soft pad of your footsteps walking towards him, only breaking out of his trance when he feels your hands make their way around his torso and your body pressed against his back.

“whatcha thinking about?” you ask him, placing a small kiss to the middle of his back through his thin t-shirt.

“nothing,” he tells you, his tone not convincing you. “why aren’t you out there defending your title?” he turns around so he’s facing you, resting his own hands on your waist.

“because something has you locked in that pretty head of yours, and i intend to find out why my boyfriend is sad,” you tell him in that soft tone of voice he loves, not wasting any time getting to the bottom of his odd mood.

quinn’s cheeks involuntarily flush, always having loved when you call him pretty. but before you can admire him too much he closes his eyes and throws his head back, sighing, not wanting to talk about how pathetic he is.

“you’ll just think it’s silly and pointless,” he confesses, knowing you won’t concede until you pry it out of him.

“try me,” you tell him as he looks down at you, seeing the cocked eyebrow and look of determination on your face.

he’s silent for a few seconds, trying to figure out how to explain it to you without making you feel like you did something wrong, because he knows you’ll immediately start picking apart what you could’ve possibly done to make him feel like this. but it’s not you, it’s his problem.

you continue to look at him with love in your eyes, silently encouraging him.

“it’s just…” he starts then pauses again, bringing a hand up to toy with your low ponytail. “do you…ever…y’know, wish i was different? more like jack? or trevor?” he finally gets the words out, shock taking over your features.

he watches your eyes go from loving, to surprised, to sad.

“quinn, what? no. never,” you tell him, shaking your head so vigorously he’s worried you’ll make yourself dizzy.

he brings his hands up to stop the movement of your head, leaving his soft hands there, thumbs caressing your cheeks.

“it’s just…i see how you are around them. how…full of life you are,” he watches your mouth open and close, like you want to interrupt him but thought better of it. “and i can’t help but wonder if you’re missing out because of me,” he shrugs, removing his hands from your face to let them rest in half fists on your shoulders, a sad smile on his face.

reaching up to grab his hands and hold them in both of yours, you shake them a bit to get him to look at you.

“i’m not missing out on anything, do you hear me?” you tell him with such seriousness in your voice he’s almost worried you’re mad. “they’re a good time, yeah, but they’re not you, q.”

still not convinced, quinn let’s his doubt control his thoughts again. “i just know that they’re more your speed. they like to go out and party and have fun and i…don’t,” he can’t meet your eyes, not wanting to see the sadness settled there.

“with them you’re always talking and can be loud and spontaneous like i know you like to do. but with me it’s always whispers and quiet and hiding away in corners or at home. i don’t do silly dances with you in the boat without caring who might see or have a secret handshake when we win beer pong. i sit on the couch and read in silence. i sit in the corner and watch everyone else have fun when we go out because i don’t want videos of me all over the internet,” he continues, his tone growing more frustrated with each word spoken.

“i just don’t want you to wake up one day and realize you’ve wasted all this time with some boring guy who only wants to sit at home and only goes out when he has to or when you want to, not because he enjoys it,” he finishes, nearly shaking with vulnerability.

his words are a knife straight into your heart, not wanting to believe he really feels this way about himself.

“oh quinny,” you bring your hands up to cup his face, wiping at the moisture forming in his grey eyes.

he gives you a weak smile, turning his head to kiss your open palm, closing his eyes at the comfort your skin on his always brings him.

“i need you to know, that i love you, quinn hughes. i love you so much it hurts me sometimes. like, physically pains me. i look at you and i feel like my chest could literally bust open with how deeply i feel about you. and not just when things are good. all the time. every day. even when we’re fighting. even when you’re sad. even when you leave your socks stuffed in the creases of the couch,” you tell him, earning a small, wet laugh, because he knows how much you hate that poor habit of his.

“i love you when we’re sitting in silence on the couch because you just got home from a game and need a noise break. i love you when we’ve been reading for hours, the only sound between us the turning pages of our books. i love you when we’re sitting in the corner of the bar because you don’t want to be the center of attention when someone buys the team a round. i love you when you’re watching me be crazy and drunk on the boat because you want to make sure someone is sober and everyone is safe. i love you when you’re ‘boring’ because to me, you’re never boring,” you confess to him, feeling the small tear slip out of your left eye and down your cheek, matching quinn’s.

“you’re the person that i love with everything that i have in me. the one that brings me home whatever books i’ve been talking about wanting to read during our marathons on a random afternoon just because you were thinking about it. the person that sacrifices his alone time away from his team, and just hockey in general, to go to banquets and events because you know i enjoy those things sometimes. you’re the person that always watches my favorite silly shows with me, no matter how stupid they are. my personal chef, my human teddy bear, my best friend,” you whisper the last words, sniffling, noticing quinn’s eyes are now closed tightly.

“because even though i do enjoy being loud and rowdy sometimes, i enjoy being with you, more. i enjoy the quiet and the slowness of life with you. the time we get to spend together without distractions or expectations. so no, i don’t wish you were more like jack, or trevor, or luke, or cole, or whoever. because you’re like quinn, which is exactly who i want you to be,” your voice finally goes quiet, bringing your forehead to rest against his, hoping your words are enough to convince him that his insecurities are just that. they hold no weight and have no truth to them.

the two of you simply soak in each other’s presence, neither one daring break the intimacy of the words hanging in the air.

when quinn finally opens his eyes and leans his head back, he lets out a shaky breath.

“tell me not to get down on one knee and propose to you right now,” he tells you, a slight joking tone to his voice, earning a small chuckle from you.

“way to do a complete 180,” you joke back, once again tangling your hands in his hair.

he huffs out a small laugh, tilting his head back before brining it back up to look at you.

“thank you,” he breaths out. “i don’t know how i got so in my head, but all day i watched you have fun and i don’t know. i got lost for a bit.”

you lean forward to place a small peck on the tip of his nose, watching him scrunch it slightly in response.

“well, luckily for you, i’ll always be here to come in there and find you, bringing you back out here to me,” you tap your finger along his temple.

“luckiest in the world,” he beams down at you.