#i know it’s a lengthy one but it’s filled with pure smut

[smuttyaf]

You Can Be My Daddy

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰; 𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝.

wc; 13.9k | masterlist

gonna post this gem to deflect from my hiatus. sorryyyy!

tw: reverse harem threesome, degradation, and choking.

Cherry.

You remember that day so clearly. The middle of June and how the breeze ran across your skin to the sweet juice of fruit gracing your lips. It was the name given to you one early afternoon when lying with your stepfather in the ruby field past the meadow of your home.

Red dye straining flesh before tongue peeked out to relish in the juices, such innocent actions changing the duration of your relationship from then on.

Inked hands and wet kisses exchanged around trees that left sprouting leaves to lie shadows amongst your bodies. Such a beautiful sight of the both of you enveloped in each other and tasting the bitter fruit on lucid tongues, it was a moment of pure pleasure where something new blossomed.

And now there’s bunny.

That day consisted of the usual sight of oak and large antique trophies found on either side of the private school walls. Plaid skirt with the Phillips Academy logo embroidered along your chest as you made your way to your class to the beat of your mary jane’s.

You listen attentively watching the brunette teacher paste himself across the room, his own thoughts and teachings expressed throughout the hour. Broad shoulders, wide frame, and chiseled features sculpturing the middle age man that’s been on your mind since meeting in the doorway.

It was only your luck that your conscious slipped and had you stumbling over the chalk left in your hand, pink panties being on display when leaning down to pick up the mineral and return it back to its respective place.

It’s was those actions that made you stay behind in class and speak to Mr. Styles. Conversation dwindling on doing well in your studies to the length of your skirt. Obviously, you played dumb, unsure that the slight alterations to the uniform were revealing, it was never an issue before but it was known now that it was.

Now it was your turn to corner him, tease him even more when acting coy to the games you play. His nails scratched amongst the wooden desk with bulge pressed snug amongst his trousers as he stumbled over your name.

“Please bunny, I want you to respect me as I respect you.”

Oh, how those words meant absolutely nothing… a few seconds after that his lips were on yours before you fell to your knees. Wet tongue swallowing his thick cock down your throat to the point your voice grew strained.

That moment was everything to you, having your way with the man of your dreams. So tall, so firm, and the swelling head between your lips tasted like heaven with the salty taste of him.

That afternoon it was set in stone your game at hand, how you attain whatever you want with a simple bat of your eye and how it’s even worse that you get away with it. Displaying the messy strokes of his seed painting your tongue to soon swallow it down and shine a brightly lit smile at the principal.

You were too good at this… having your way with seductive hips, plump ass, and gorgeous face to match. You’re a tease and take pride in it; smiling cheerily and pushing your breasts together just right to show your teacher the soft skin he wants to touch and squeeze.

And it was going good, actually it was going really well for a few weeks. Nickname written neatly across your paper, curve spine and different colour panties everyday. It was hot and exciting! Everything you could ever wish for, but obviously that could only last for so long.

A slip up of love notes to reservations over the relationship only made you decide to make it known to Mr. Styles that you had options, and if he doesn’t want to act accordingly you’ll rub it in his face the treatment he wants with someone else.

Leaving hickeys along Luca’s neck or catching his gaze on you two when he drops you off to class. Mr. Styles' sight on the adventurous hands wandering down your backside to the kiss placed on his cheek, you wanted him to feel bad for not choosing more alone time with you, for allowing his thoughts to eat him up and not trusting in you.

All you asked of was one thing and he couldn’t even do that, how irritating… how annoying… it pissed you off not being the center of his attention like all your other toys.

But now, oh… you’re nearly bursting at the seams.

Thinking you were having your way so easily with your taunting game, it was only right for karma to turn around and bite you in the ass because just as you thought you had one up on him, the annual Phillips Academy parent teacher interviews came up and sure enough both of your parents were attending.

You tried to figure out an excuse, tried to say you had a stomach ache or a killer migraine but obviously that didn’t work on your mother, so instead you sucked it up and tried your best to not sweat the inevitable situation, and sure enough it was haunting.

Brown skin met with white, and you wanted nothing more than to drop dead right then. Both holding eye contact and stiff grip that you had to find a way out of the exchange, something that won’t show you sweating.

Immediately you dismissed your presence with your mother, a weak mention of a drink to try just to ease your thoughts. You didn’t know how the hell you managed to find yourself in this situation, your stepfather and teacher in the same room and now talking to each other, this was perfect… just perfect.

Your mother sits the translucent cup down while placing a hand to her chest, her throat clears at the same time she shakes her head gently.

“That is quite sweet for the dinner,” She comments, sight looking over the glass bottle before bidding you a smile. “But you’ve always had a sweet tooth, haven’t you.”

Your lips tug at the end, a gentle and soft grin as you nod your head. Fingers lifting your own cup to your lips and swallowing the sugary grape tinged juice before your eyes flick towards Mr. Styles and Malik, both nodding to each other in unison. The sight makes your stomach turn.

“Excuse me dear, I need to go to the powder room.” Your sight following your mom as a happy expression still plasters itself across your face as you bow your head. You watch her decorative rings toss the plastic into the garbage before leaving out the door to be alone with your thoughts.

The hammering beats of your heart quake in your chest, pads of your fingers clenching into the warmth of the cup that leaves sweaty prints along the surface. A deep breath travels through your nose with lashes fluttering as your mind completely blanks.

What the fuck did you actually get yourself into? How did you end up here? You thought you had all your lies in place, that an instance like this would never happen but yet, here you are; bambi eye and plush lips scared from the outcome of all your deceitfulness.

Shaky hands left up the cup and bring it towards your mouth as you swallow back the remaining juice. Shoulders flex back concedingly, tongue swiping across your bottom lip before you throw your trash away and take another deep breath.

With whatever slither of confidence you have within it charges your walk towards the two men. Poised spine, alluring hips and doe eyes, you know it’s the sight they love, the sight they adore and maybe, just maybe, you won’t face any consequences to your actions.

The subtle tap of your repettos sound against the old floor boards before halting, your left hip popping to the side as your arms cross over each other on your chest. Bottom lip sucked between your teeth yet chin still tilted high despite the uneasiness flowing through.

Your view falls on the jet black strands falling across his forehead as his hazel eyes pierce through you. Lengthy lashes and rugged beard captivating your sight till you switch it towards the teacher; stubble cheeks and daunting green hues. Their aura radiates a connection unbeknownst to you, one that sends a chill down your spine.

“Speaking of the devil…”

The words come off as a teasing bite, accent thick and sight roaming over your frame as if plotting to have his way with you just like the many times he would tell you about over the phone, except this time it’s different, this time there’s a glimmer of deception.

Firm shoulders and board chests tower over your appearance as both their view latch onto your petite frame and doe eyes so oblivious and worried over the two men standing next to each other.

“Father...” Voice quiet and sincere as you look towards him. Fingers fitting against your arms as you try to keep your composure.

And you watch closely, the way his hand leaves his pocket and runs over his jaw, teeth kissing together as he shakes his head amused at your appearance. The fat flesh of your lips run over each other with eyes blinking between both bodies in amazement at the sight.

“Y/N…” Your step-father counters, head leaning to the side as he smirks down at you so coy and scared.

“Still being promiscuous, are we?”

Mouth runs dry with throat growing strain and fingers running clammy against the material of your blazer. The pounding in your ribs reaches your ears and sends nervous shockwaves throughout your brain.

Lashes flutter hesitantly between the two as you feel the creases between your toes begin to slither with sweat. Your teeth clench down on each other, nails scratching into polyester at the same time your lips fall apart.

He’s fucking with you, he has to be. He can’t possibly know what’s going on between you and your teacher, he absolutely can’t.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” Thick droplet of spit eerily sliding down your esophagus, with ears ringing and jaw tight as you refrain from looking at the teacher.

That has Mr. Malik chuckle, deep and amused to the point that Mr. Styles joins along too. It has your eyes darting to him, heart causing painful shocks to run throughout your chest as the pads of your fingers begin to cause pain in your biceps.

This isn’t possible… are you even registering what truly is happening in the moment… are you in the Twilight Zone? You have to be, because the two men in your life are laughing together like old pals or something.

The taps of your mother’s heel rattles your spine, her heavy footsteps has your sight tearing away and looking towards her with an irritated smile, thankful she can at least save you.

Her perfume floods your nose as her own teeth shine in annoyance, her hand wraps around your shoulder as she brings you in dramatically to squeeze you into her body.

“My apologies dear, and Mr. Styles,” She smiles towards you before turning towards your stepfather. “Jessica managed to mix up the meeting with the Allen’s so we have to cut the day short unfortunately.”

A deep exhale leaves you as your grin turns to happiness. Thank god! This was perfect, literally saved at the right moment. Your feet flex in your shoes as you roll onto your toes, head swaying to the side to catch sight over your father who looks completely unfazed.

“We still have a couple more teachers to see, no?” Mr. Malik questions while giving your mother his full attention.

“Yes, but I really need to make it, I’m already ten minutes behind.”

“It’s okay love, you go and I’ll see the rest of them. Your viewings are always quite short.”

Your smile flattens, plucked brows pushing together as you try to comprehend if this is actually happening. It certainly can’t be real… you really have to be dreaming. Just when you think you’re about to get off scot free here is your father dangling his own satisfaction in front of your face.

Your throat grows strain, fingers curling in on each other while you fall to your heels. Your eyes roll obnoxiously as your head turns and catches sight on your history teacher. Flesh between his teeth and raised eyebrows, you can tell there’s a playful glint of happiness in his eyes, something you’ve never witnessed before.

“You’re a lifesaver! Thank you!” Cheerful voice rushes as she leans in and kisses both of his cheeks.

Now your heart is erratically beating to the point it’s the only thing that sounds through your ears as if white noise. Your mother rushes to hug you again before saying something that you don’t even comprehend because you’re completely fucked.

The strands of her hair trail away in breeze of blurry vision and slow breathing, nails digging into your cuticles as your gaze pans between the two men, your stepfather smirking charmingly and Mr. Styles with lip between his teeth.

You wish there was just a few more minutes for you to grasp everything thrown at hand. To collect your thoughts and lie accordingly but you don’t get that chance, not right now, not in this moment.

Eyes flick between brown loose curls to dark straight hair, from prickly bread to thick one, to piercing green eyes to alluring hazel hues. You’re ruined, absolutely ruined… and when looking between the two men does your mind really scramble.

There are only two choices you have; twirl around with tail between your legs or confront the issue at hand.

And because those are your only two options the sound of your heels tap against the floor as your vision fades from every single nerve swallowing you whole. Anxiety wasn’t even the word to describe how you’re feeling, and frankly you want it to evaporate immediately.

Without a second thought your feet are turning against the hardwood, arms falling to your side as lashes shelter your vision as you inhale deeply and place one foot in front of the other. Your chest surging with every beat of your heart as you try to think straight.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Bradford accent clouding your ears as your wrist is caught within his palm. The grip over you has your body twist around and look at your stepfather with fury in your gaze. You would rather die than remain standing here at this moment.

“We’re not done here.”

Fingers curl into each other as sight never breaks, your teeth clench down on each other with toes curling into your shoes. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

There’s really nothing you can do. You can’t turn away and hide, you can’t plaster a smile as if everything is okay, you can’t do anything but accept this for what it is.

So with that your posture relaxes. Shoulders slouching, jaw loosening, and deep breath escaping. For once you lost at your own game. You’re not in control anymore and only in this moment do you realize that you haven’t been as soon as these two met.

There’s a silent connection between them, from their eye contact to stance. Something unknown is brewing and it makes your stomach quiver. Never in a million years did you think this would happen, but it is, and you’re caught red handed.

“Mr. Styles was actually telling me about your most recent essay, a plus was it?” His attention turns towards the teacher who nods his head in agreement.

“Yes, it was written exceptionally well.” Mr. Styles continues while raising his hand to his chin and rubbing the skin there.

“I was so intrigued when he told me about it that we agreed to go to his classroom and look over your work.” Your eyes flick between the two men who look at each other with pride. “I’ve always loved your writing, so you won’t mind, now would you?”

You don’t even say anything as your father releases your wrist and smiles down at you happily. Of course he’s thrilled with whatever endeavor he has planned, if you were in his shoes you would be as well.

The two men walk past you in your dazed out state and continue to chat with each other as if best mates in the span of half an hour. You don’t even try and further understand this situation but instead tread slowly behind the two men as they walk down the long corridor before making their way up to the third floor and into your familiar classroom.

Because of the events taking place today everyone seems to be remaining on the first floor which just leaves the rest of the school eerily quiet to the point goosebumps prick your skin, especially when your the last one to step through the door.

Your hand hooks around the knob as you step backwards and close it. View looking over the two men as one goes through his desk and the other leans into the structured object.

“Come here dear.” Mr. Malik orders while gesturing towards you.

A tight limb smile spreads as you roll your eyes and lazily make your way towards him, heels sounding against the floorboards as you pass the rows of desk to the left of you and stand next to your father.

At the same time Mr. Styles rounds the desk with paper in hand, thumb peeling the three layered essay apart while he looks over the lengthy written sheet. His sight skimming down the page before he hums pleasantly.

“Marie Antoinette is very known to the point of being called famous, but yet it is not for any good deeds. She is most well known for her selfishness and self indulgence.” He reads before passing the papers to your father who nods his head while examining it.

“Seems like you and Marie have some things in common.” Mr. Malik comments while turning to look at you peering up at him.

Your jaw tenses before slight flicks towards Mr. Styles, his view already locked on you; and normally you would be happy that you have his attention, especially with the way it obviously looks over your frame, but right now, in this moment, it’s something you dislike.

“Wouldn’t you agree?” Your teacher continues playing off your father's words which only leaves you a mess of nerves.

You’re the one who’s supposed to have them on edge, have them on the tip of their toes. You’re the one who’s supposed to have them reeling with discomfort, not the other way around. Yet, here you are with sweat slithering in every crevice of your body in the position that you love to put them in.

“N—no.” Voice barely even heard as your lips curl into each other.

“No?” Mr. Malik reiterates only making you look back towards your father.

Your tongue peeks out your mouth to run over your bitten lip, deep breath escaping your throat as you let your eyes close.

It’s time to face the facts. You’re stuck in a room with two men who you’ve led on just for the fun of it. Here you are left standing between these two because having your way with them just does something to your mind, to your body, and spirit that you just have to toy with them. But now you’re here and surrounded by your own faults and deceitfulness, having nothing else to do but accept that you’ve lost.

“You’re really smart cherry, so just use that beautiful brain of yours.”

Eyes immediately flash open at the call of your nickname, nails releasing from their previous hold as your chest turns towards your father who smirks down at you. His hand placing your essay down on the desk while his own body follows suit and goes parallel to yours as he watches you fumble.

“Father—”

“—Sir.”

At the same time he corrects you, the rough pad of Mr. Styles finger is dragging up the revealing skin of your thighs, his warm breath fanning over the right side of your neck only putting you further in uneasiness.

“What is this?” You question as your teacher steps closer to the point you feel his erection against your backside.

“What you always wanted.” His voice panning over your neck so warm and sultry that your knees tremble.

Spit runs down your throat slowly, sight looking over the way your father's lips twitch into a smirk. Once again, his head shakes in utter disappointment.

“Speechless?” Mr. Malik says while leaning towards you to the point there’s little space left between you both.

“The first time she doesn’t have anything snarky to say.” Mr. Styles chuckles into your neck that has you absolutely feening.

Even though you’re scared shitless you can’t deny that the scene before you is remarkably hot. Both men squish you against themselves as they lure you in with their teasing movements. It has your adrenaline pumping. The fact your teacher has his thick cock nestled between your clothed cheeks while your father looks down at you so content with the situation at hand. You’re flushed and bothered, and quite frankly you’re excited for whatever is in store.

“Tell us bunny, why did you lie?”

“Yes, cherry, tell us why?”

Both nicknames run across your skin that leaves goosebumps in their wake. It’s nerve racking but it feels too good to not fall prey to their taunts.

They're both so handsome; tall to the point they tower over you, delicious cologne flooding your nose as rough hands feel over your body. You simply couldn’t resist them, not when they have you like this.

“I thought it was only me?”

“So did I… especially when it’s just us two at home… all alone…”

The mention of your life outside of school with the older man has your teacher grip your flesh even rougher, heavy huff escaping him showcasing itself clear that the comment made him jealous and you can’t help the way your heart skips a beat at the near thought of him being possessive over you.

Your father bites down on his bottom lip, his hand dragging along the desk to soon fit itself along your stomach and slither its way up your side and begin to fondle your breast. The charming glint in his eye is distinctive to the many times you two have fooled around, it’s your favorite feature that you’ve distinguished since the beginning of your relationship, and without even thinking a whimper slips out.

Immediately your fingers curl into your side as Mr. Styles continues to rub your hips roughly, his own waist rutting into you that your lashes flutter in pure satisfaction. This feels so good.

“I’m sorry.” Whisper trailing out so soft and quiet that you sound innocent and so sweet, like you didn’t drag them into your game; but the only difference now is that the two grown men sandwiched on either side of you are smarter than that.

Both of them laugh hauntingly, touch continuing to roam and grope to the point you're a moaning mess under their touch, especially when your father fits his other hand between your legs and feels you through your soiled panties.

A deep breath spills from your lips while both hands go to wrap along his wrist, eyes bulging and chest flexing towards his as Mr. Styles shoves you deeper when grinding against you. Thin fingers glide through your folds making you feel the dampness of your panties press against your heated skin.

“You hear that, she’s sorry.” Your stepfather breathes against your lips, so close and teasing that you shiver under the pressure.

“Oh, that’s so hard to believe.” Your teacher smiles against your skin that the air you ingest does little to calm your pinching nerves.

“Do you think that little apology is enough for us?” His hand gripping your breast even rougher as his fingers gently feel over your wet clothed hole. “After everything you put us through?”

Your head shakes slowly, eyes never breaking contact as you continue to let them feel over your body. He is right, after all the tricks you play that barely audible plea isn’t enough, especially with the way they touch and tease you it’s clear the apology that they’re looking for isn’t something that you can just say to squeeze yourself out of this situation.

“Having my job on the line…” Mr. Styles coos while pressing his lips into your thumping pulse.

“And my marriage…” Mr. Malik so close to your lips that you whimper at the near feel of him.

“So we think it’s only right for us to have our turn with you. The way we want.”

Warm breath falls over your lips so alluring and dominant that you can’t help yourself from surging forward and locking yours with his. The cool spearmint on his tongue travels through your lips and along yours as they wrap around each other.

It’s been months since you’ve gone without the delectable taste of him that it has you moaning immediately from the touch and the way he floats across your tastebuds. So sweet yet musky, so strong yet soft.

You missed him so much… the way he tastes, the way he feels, how he completely envelops every twitch that itches through your body. A high moan rakes through your throat, head swaying to the side as Mr. Styles begins to nip and suck at your neck, the slick feel of your skin growing hot and bruised only makes your ass back into the teacher further while your father continues to fondle you.

Plush lips slouch amongst yours with ease as the alluring taste of him is so delicious that your fingers curl even tighter around his wrist. Teasingly his mouth pulls away, teeth biting into flesh and tugging gently which only further reminds you of your need for him.

“Miss me?” Hazel eyes peeling open to watch your lips part, heavy breath drawing in as his index finger curves deeper into your hole. The restraint of your lace panties peeking into your flesh has you shivering.

“Yes.” You sigh with grip loosening and head cranning towards him.

The answer to his question has Mr. Styles nails sink deeper into your skin as they rake along your waist. Such heavy motions leaving scratches to the point it sends chills throughout that you can’t help but shudder at the feel.

The split ends of his curls rub against the temple of your forehead which causes your sight to turn and look towards him who doesn’t hesitate to lean forward. His lips sinking onto yours and enveloping the sweet taste of him. His saliva sweeps through your bloodstream tasting of honey and him, and just like that you're back to moaning underneath his touch.

Your tongue accepts the way he fills your mouth and fights for dominance. So rough and demanding as he rubs his muscle against yours in pure satisfaction. The two flavors of them mixing together and injesting themselves throughout your system was heaven and you simply just want more of it.

Your fathers hand prodes away at your hole shallowly, his own breath fanning across the other side of your neck as you continue to whimper against the man french kissing you.

It’s the combination of their grips gracing your skin and lips pressing love into exposed flesh that has you pull from the exchange out of breath. Heart pounding in your ear and nails pinching into the material of your step fathers blazer.

The feelings coursing through is something you never felt before; both men giving you the attention that you love so much, that you crave so much and adore… the attention that you truly deserve. It was intoxicating and better than anything you can imagine, it’s why your eyes have a screen of submission crossing over, and why you look towards your dad with your cheeks all heated and lips bruised.

“Can I sir?” Voice coming out in a wisp of uncertainty but desire. The sound being so pleasant that it has your father smile down at you.

“Can you what?” He reiterates, fingers leaving their position to run up your folds and play with your clit.

It makes you whine, head bobbing a bit as Mr. Styles lands heavy pecks into your neck. His hands now feeling across the ends of your skirt cup your cheeks and force you forward into your dad.

“Can I have you both… please?” Lashes blinking up at him as your lip sucks itself between your teeth.

Such words falling from your mouth has your father’s signature look tug across his features, his grip leaving your legs and fitting his fingers into your mouth. He watches closely the way they enter and how you don’t hesitate to immediately suck them.

Tongue twisting around skinny fingers tasting the muted taste of yourself as doe eyes stare up at him as he continues to fit them deeper and deeper into your throat. The pads of his digits collect the saliva draping along the service, heavy grip rubbing along your taste buds making you softly moan at the feel.

His version goes dark, eyes flickering as his sight drinks you in; plush lips and wet pussy just letting his fingers slide through your heavenly mouth, it makes him groan lowly, touch drawing away and running your spit across your lips, his touch tracing your cupid’s bow as your mouth parts erotically simply loving the attention.

“Cherry… my dear… you never had a choice.”

Those words have your skin burn even brighter, flesh still flexing against his fingers as he smiles hauntingly.

So this was their plan when left alone, lead you to the third floor where no one would be and let them have their way with you. This was hot, like extremely hot, nothing that you could’ve imagined before.

“Why don’t you get on your knees.” Mr. Styles breathes into your ear, his palms feeling over your ass before landing a soft smack that has your father chuckle so sinisterly that it makes your pussy throb.

Your head nods just at the same time your father pulls his fingers away, his body stepping back slightly as his hands fall to his belt only leading you to bend your knees. One hand balancing itself behind you on your teacher's thigh as the other holds onto your father's hip.

Jingling of metal sounds throughout the space before it's being met with slacks drawing down skin. Mr. Styles shuffles closer amongst the floor while your body positions itself better in front of them as if repenting for the sins about to happen.

Big round eyes dazzle in the soft light as you watch both of them reveal their erect cocks. Your father is lengthy and skinny compared to your teacher, all thick and girthy, it has you licking your lips with sight looking between the two completely captivated.

The left hand perched along Mr. Styles thigh creeps up his pelvic bone while the one situated on your father's hip roams amongst his skin to grip his dick. Fingers encasing around his length and tugging downwards gently as you don’t hesitate to lean forward and suck the head of his cock into your mouth.

It’s salty and sweet, just the way you like him which has you moaning immediately. Lashes batting up at him as your lips sink further letting spit coating him in every inch of your mouth descending further till he reaches the back of your throat. Eyes flick up at him as the swollen head of him tickles your uvula, the fingers wrapped around him slides down with ease as you draw back up his cock.

Leaning forward your lips to pierce together to let a heavy droplet of spit paint his cock, your fingers drawing up him to curl around the extra coat of lube to drag back down.

Humming pleasantly your head turns towards your teacher as the hand on his hip carries his cock towards your mouth. Tongue stretching out to run along the underside of him as you look up, his brown curls tossed behind his face as he begins to undo the buttons of his dress shirt.

Unknown ink being exposed along his flesh that has you grinning against his warm cock, mouth drawing from the base of him and humming pleasantly at how good he looks.

“You’re so handsome.” You comment before you run your tongue across the slit of his crown.

It makes Mr. Styles hiss immediately, his hands going to either side of your face with a smirk drawing across his lips as you tear away smiling at him.

“So pretty…” Mouth parting as you finally envelope him. Velvet walls sucking him in lovingly as your hand curls around the width of him.

Spit encases the erect flesh as he fills up your mouth. His grip over your jaw forces you to swallow him down just like the first time. Nose brushing along his groin just as he tags the back of your throat.

Your eyes roll at the feel of your airway closing around him, the hand wrapped around the base of his cock curls around the underside as you trail back up his cock. Saliva strung along the head of him to your tongue swirling around his crown before you’re moaning and pulling away.

Mr. Styles hands fall from your face as your sight looks over your step father who begins removing his blazer just as your mouth wraps around his dick. Tongue circling around his girth as your fingers glide up and down his lengthy cock while twisting it in opposite directions.

That’s how your knees end up bruised in the passing moments, lips moving between the two cocks in front of your face as the men before you begin undressing and treating you like the object that you are.

Swelling crowns diving deep till they touch the back of your throat, hands carding through your hair with each exchange urging you to take them further and further till you’re pulling away begging for air.

Tears breech your waterline as your chest burns in pain, your throat strains itself with each descent of their wet cocks abusing your throat. It aches but in the most beautiful way because the sight bestowed upon you is absolutely remarkable.

Such handsome grown men using you as their toy. Sexy tattooed skin, tall firm bodies and their gorgeous spit soaked erections leaving you drunk at the sight. Touch running across flesh as their lips part, electing moans as their sight never tears away from watching every movement you make.

Twisting wrist and red tongue sending pleasure to both as they observe how eager you are at this moment compared to before. How dainty and scared to now swallow them down so needy and submissive.

“Here, come here,” Your father rushes as your lips pull away from the underside of his cock. His grip is rough as he drags you up by your shoulders, palm pushing you into the desk as the other lands a deafening smack against your ass.

“Fuck!” Raspy voice crying out as you feel his fingers roughly shove your panties down your legs. Without waiting a second his fingers are drawing down your folds collecting your juices before thrusting into your dripping hole.

A moan carries out of your sore throat, nails curling into the gloss over the oak desk, as your eyes catch on the intricate detail of the butterfly tattoo plastered along Mr. Styles abdomen.

His hands carry your chin away from the table to press his lips against yours. Soft lingering peppermint tongue gracing yours as your father drags his fingers out to thrust back in.

His touch collects the juices you expel to curl into your pussy so beautifully that you can’t help but to break away from the kiss with a moan. Sight flickering open to catch Mr. Styles' green eyes watching the way your lips fall apart to sing such a beautiful tune.

His thumb leaves your chin to swipe along your bitten flesh, rough pad of his finger tugging at the skin before he’s leaning over and peppering soft kisses against your whimpering mouth.

“Take this off.” Your father orders interrupting the affection being displayed as his free hand tugs at your blazer.

Mouths part away from each other as you raise off your elbows, hands pulling at the ends of your school uniform as Mr. Styles helps with tugging it down your shoulders. The clear buttons of your button up are next as he begins undoing them to reveal your bra clad chest.

Your hands immediately go behind your back to unclasp it, your bouncy breast displaying itself with swollen nipples that your teacher can’t help but lean down and capture them between his lips. Warm mouth sucking you in so heavenly as your father slides his fingers in so gracefully that it was impossible for you to not contain yourself from every nerve consuming you.

“Please sir, please?” You call just as your dress shirt runs down your shoulder when letting your hands run through Mr. Styles curls.

Your father’s fingers thrust back in leisurely feeling your slick nectar encase themselves around every fold of his skin as your sweet wetness adds comfort as he continues to thrust into your plush walls.

Feet shuffle amongst the floor as Mr. Malik dots kisses down the wings of your spine, his fingers continuing to curl into your pussy as his lips trail down your back. His knees flexing as his other hand grips your backside roughly pulling your cheeks apart as he lets his face descend down your lower back to lie between your cheeks.

Wet muscle slithering along your asshole just as his fingers draw away to spread your other cheek apart to run his tongue down your pussy. A harmonious moan floats from your mouth at the adventurous pleasure floating between both holes.

A warm vibration floats along your skin at your father moaning from the taste of you. Tongue trailing out from his mouth to replace where his fingers once were. Strong yet tantalizing touch dipping into your pussy to taste your juices that has your toes curl at the feel.

Such sensual touch roaming all over your body has your heart pounding in your ear. From Mr. Styles sucking your nipples into his mouth to your father continuing to spread your ass even further to let his love run though, the feeling roaming throughout is absolutely unexplainable.

Your chest falls deeper into your teacher, fingers dragging out of his hair and down his neck with another moan escaping into the air.

Every object in the room bears witness to the sinful actions taking place. How grown men have their way with a girl who played them both in the first place, how her actions lead her to be bent over the desk ready for anything in store. How this crude behavior on the premises of the school should leave everybody in the room full with such disgrace however does the exact opposite.

It has your father groan against your pussy in pure arousal as his lips curl against your sweet ones as he draws up your slit to bury his tongue into your asshole. “Yes, fuck, yes.” Bitten flesh curling into your mouth trying to restrain yourself from drawing blood from your teacher's skin.

Mr. Malik's right hand peels away for you to spread your cheeks once more. His mouth pulling away just in time to land a thick saliva teardrop running down your second hole to lead down the slit of your pussy.

His breath floats up your back, his hand smacking your heated ass cheeks once more before taking himself into his hands. Without second thought the crown of his cock runs over the mess as his lips skim across the nape of your neck leaving a trail of goosebumps.

“You like this, huh?” Voice in your ear as if a second conscious while he continues to rub himself along you. “Like being our toy to play with… to use…”

Rough grip landing another demanding strike that jerks your body closer into the grown man still feeling along your breasts; and to add the pleasure does your father finally thrust into your pussy.

Every inch of him drags down your walls slowly to let you feel every inch of him, make you remember all you've been missing out on when someone else has been on your mind. He wants it ingrained in your mind everything you forgot about when not back home and under your covers.

“Tell me baby, tell me,” Teeth biting at your ear lobe just as his hips meet your backside. The feeling of his lengthy cock pressed tightly against your sweet spot leaves you shivering once again.

Mr. Styles pulls away from your swollen nipples, his lips running up your chest to consume every whimper falling from your lips.

Just as much as he wants to admire the beauty of your face completely drunk off pleasure he can’t help but feel jealousy surge through him. The way your lashes flutter to your nose twitching, it just leaves him with thoughts of him only being the one who should be making you feel like that.

It’s why one of his hands wraps around your throat to allow your gaze to connect while the other takes your wrist off the desk and brings it towards his cock, your fingers immediately wrapping around him as a whimper floats out of your mouth when your father thrusts back in.

“Such a dirty girl.” Mr. Styles says against your parted lips. His mouth swallowing every moan crawling out as your eyes shine and let your touch drag down his cock. “Like getting fucked by your step-dad, huh?” His grip tightening around your throat as your head bobs with each stroke pleasuring every part of you.

That’s the thing you loved about your father the most, the fact he fills you up so beautifully, so lean and lengthy that it tags your cervix each time that has you a panting mess begging for more. Your dress shirt is messily running down your arm, skirt hiked up with a screen of sweat roaming over your skin as you continue to bounce to each drum of the assault fucking you into oblivion.

“Mmm I missed him…” You sigh, lashes batting as your wrist loosely jerks your teacher off. “I missed him so much.” You mumble intoxicated with the way his cock drags down your walls enticingly.

The comment only makes Mr. Styles bite down on his lip, nostril flaring and eyes burning a different hue of green. His touch tenses against your skin as the look over your face combined with your breath hitching urges himself to draw away from you and force your head towards his cock.

Your father smirks, his hand continuing to spread your cheeks to watch where you both meet every time he thrusts back into you. Creamy discharge wrapping around him to glisten in the soft light and run over every protruding vein that displays his desire towards you, and now the scene before him with you proclaiming how much you miss him right in front of the man who has your attention while at this boarding school, his paste only increases.

“That’s my good girl, that’s my cherry.” His other hand running up your spine to hold the nape of your neck and control your movements as your mouth wraps around Mr. Styles cock.

Each stride into your pussy causes your mouth to move down his dick further as your grip continues to grope down the expanse.

Plump lips sucking him down as your father pinches your sweet spot each time he draws out to plunge back in. You’re so turned on with both men having their way that your pussy emits squelching sobs every time he rocks back in.

The oak desk jerks with every pound of his hips as he fucks you into the desk. Pen, name plate, and even the chair tucked into the table shuffling with each time you're being plowed into the table. The two bodies in the room relishing in the feeling of them using you after all the mind games you put them through, it’s completely thrilling to them, especially to you.

One cock sending undeniable pleasure while the other stretches your throat. You could die right now and be happy at the feeling of them spreading you apart and using you as their toy.

“Fuck… sir…” Mouth tearing away from your teacher's cock leaving a string of saliva from his head to connect to your lips.

Knees flex forward as your right foot subconsciously lifts up towards your calf as you feel your nerves pinch and tug up your spine as your pussy continues to accept every jab. The hand perched next to your stomach tears away from the table to sink between your pelvis to try and rub your clit.

“No, no, no,” Mr. Malik coos as his free hand captures your forearm and wraps it around your back halting your movements.

“Gonna cum my way,” He grunts with grip twisting your skin while he continues barreling down your walls. “Or not at all.”

“Sir,” You plead with fingers tightening around your teacher's cock as your head continues to jerk forward.

“C’mon cherry, come on my cock.” Mr. Malik demands, his hand slipping away from your neck to collect your hair in his grasp and turn your head around.

His sight watches your eyes barely remain open as your chest inhales heavily at the physical touch racing your heart erratically. His dominating touch peels your vision back as the other restricts you from doing anything further to your body that he doesn’t want.

“Do it baby, just the way I like.” He continues to egg on as his hips now sound throughout the room only making your spine curve further into the desk.

And Mr. Styles watches everything happen; the way your eyes roll, brows itch together as your voice elects the most beautiful moan just in time as your thighs begin to shake uncontrollably. His hands by your temple run through your hair seeking to comfort as gasps begin to travel between your lips.

“Mhmm,” Your father hums in encouragement as his paste never halts but continues as he fucks your through your orgasm. “That’s my cherry.” His grip releases along your wrist to drag down your back and hold your hip.

“That’s my good girl.” He groans as your plush walls continue to tick around him in the feverish aftermath of your climax. “Right?” Hand in your hair tugging your head gently as your eyes completely glossed over in lust nod up at him.

His lips tug into a smirk before his sight cuts towards Mr. Styles, tongue peeking out of his mouth before his free hand falls from your hip and collects himself as he pulls out. The feeling of him leaving you empty only has you crying out pathetically.

The two men switch places; this time your teacher is perching one of your knees up onto the desk as the other pushes your skirt even higher up your hips. Your father steps in front of you with a glistening cock and swollen balls that have you licking your lip at the sight.

“Oh my god.” You moan as you feel Mr. Styles replace where Mr. Malik just was. His thickness expands your walls just to apply even more pressure against your cervix as he continues to spread you out when nestling himself between your folds.

Your head turns with hands balancing you along the desk, view cascading down the muscular teacher holding your sides as he presses himself tightly against your dripping lips. Mouth parting open in pure arousal as draws away to thrust back in only making you feel like he’s stretching you out more then your father.

“Daddy,” You cry, nails curling into the wood as sight never breaks away from his hips drawing back and hair framing his face with stride. “You feel so good.”

Compliment trailing out without second thought as you whimper in complete enjoyment of him fucking you right after your dad just did. His cock fills you up so heavy and delicious that you’re shivering at the feel, mouth hanging open and brows relaxing as he strokes into you heavenly.

Mr. Malik teeth clench down amongst each other at the sight before him, how you’re so enthralled with the feeling consuming you that the teacher bestows that his hand goes behind your neck, grip tightening to try and turn your attention but however, you’re not budging.

“Yeah… you like this, don’t you bunny?” Teasing voice of your teacher floating into the heated atmosphere as his eyes never tear away from your bouncing breasts and submissive face.

“Yes, daddy… you feel so good,” You gush at the same time you let your hips retreat back into his only having the head of his cock tag your g-spot each time.

“That’s right,” He grunts with one hand leaving your hips and tugging at the collar of your dress shirt to drape it off your arms and leave your upper half completely nude.

“That’s my good bunny.”

That nickname so foreign to your step-father makes his grip even tighter as he finally directs your attention to look forward. Baby hairs collecting with sweat by your forehead as your mouth continues to expel harmonious moans at the feeling conveying throughout your body.

Mr. Malik's upper lip rubs against his nose as his head shakes disappointedly, his chin tilting for a moment before his head is leaning towards your ear.

“Look at you being the whore you are.” Such disrespectful words that should turn you off doing the complete opposite as you sigh pleasantly at the comment.

“Like getting fucked by two men? Like getting passed around like the dirty slut you are, huh?” His other hand going towards his cock as you continue to moan and whimper as your body jerks into his chest from each thrust.

“Every time I’ve asked you something you’ve been ignoring me… but not him.” His teeth kissing against each other as his grip continues to tighten. “Calling him your daddy before me, you’re so fucked up cherry.”

A high pitch moan escapes as Mr. Styles' paste increases, his waist clapping into your backside as your vision continues to bob between your fathers caramel skin and the chalkboard nailed to the wall.

“All that I do for you and this is how you repay me?” Voice filled with dissatisfaction as he raises up and brings his cock towards your mouth.

“Mm- I’m sorry,” You whine, eyes looking up at him sincere as your hand leaves the desk to curl around his dazzling cock.

“No, you’re not.” Mr. Malik comments while shaking his head once more while continuing to urge your head down. “Sluts like you are never sorry.”

The crown of his dick breaks through your lips and has you taste your climax as he forces you to take all of him. His hand once holding himself cards through your hair and collects the strands into a makeshift ponytail as you swallow him down.

“Yeah, do what you’re meant to do.” He grunts as your head bobs from the thrusts behind you that control your movements from inching further and further down him.

Mr. Malik was more than furious that he had to find out you were being devious and giving yourself away to men who weren’t him. From your failed previous attempt to the one fucking you on his desk he’s pissed off. He should never have to share you nor have to confront the issue that you’ve been ignoring his every demand unless being controlled to do so. You have him fighting to restrain himself from demanding more attention out of you as you lie spread out taking another man’s dick.

And it wasn’t helping that he was pleasuring you in ways he just was. Vibrating mouth and burning skin displaying itself each time Mr. Styles thrusts back into you and how your pussy emits the sweetest noise that he wants on repeat. He wants to tear you off of him, punish you the way he wants, but right now, the feeling of your throat gasping for air from being too drunk off the sensations combing through he’ll take what he can get until you finally return home.

“Holy shit!” You groan as your mouth pulls away to allow air to fill your lungs. Swollen lips falling apart as you both find the perfect rhythm of his cock filling you up just right as your hips meet his every time.

“That’s right, take it like a good girl.” Mr. Styles encourages as his hand twists around the cloth along your hips and pulls you closer to him only making his cock delve deeper into your walls.

“Yeah, a good girl who likes to get double dipped, right?” Your father’s teasing voice including himself as he watches your tongue escape your mouth to lick the slit along his head.

“Yes, fuck, yes.” You moan with one hand leaving the desk and curling around his cock to twist it down the expanse of him. “I like it… I like it so much.” Words coming out drowsy and needy as you look over his dick glistening in your fluid as your teacher continues to bury you into the table.

“Yeah, you love it don’t you?” Mr. Styles encourages as one hand leaves his hips to land a smack against your already bruised flesh that leaves you crying outl.

“Daddy,” You moan, eyes squeezing shut as you feel tingles begin to run up the bottom of your foot. Stomach fluttering against the now sweaty service as your pussy continues to accept every tormenting thrust.

“Dirty fucking slut.” Your father breathes out as your hand curls up his shaft with a tight grip as your head begins to sway. Goosebumps spreading along your body as your limbs begin to shake at the waves rippling through.

“I can’t.. daddy… sir…” Fumbling over your words as your mouth parts and hips still against your teacher. Your hand halting its movements as your body lies across the desk with no effort to balance yourself from your orgasm racing through.

“Tell daddy you love it, tell me bunny.” Mr. Styles calls as he never slows down. Aggressive thrusts continue to bruise your cervix with each jab unable to resist the pulsing feeling over your climax wrapping around him.

“Mmm my god, I love it,” You cry, your hand leaving your fathers cock to drag against the table as your heart thumps against your chest. “I love it so much.” Blabbering into the desk as your eyes flutter and mind goes completely blank, the only thing coherent is the dick sending sensation through every bone in your body.

“Look at her,” Mr. Malik comments, his fingers drawing through your hair as you moan into the desk with spit dripping from your lips so high off dick that you’re on a whole other planet. “Cock drunk, innit.” He chuckles mischievously, having fun at breaking you down.

“Yes… I’m so… in love… I love this so much,” Moaning the words out sloppily as your nails drag down the expanse of the glossy service trying to regain consciousness.

A drumming beat swells along your pelvic bone as tears prick your eyes from the feeling encasing itself all over you. Such heavy thickness spreading you out to leave your pussy a soiled mess with puffy lips and drench folds. It’s mind numbing how immersed you are with the arousal coursing through your body, how every limp lies weak and tired as you lose control of your muscles and lie squirming along the desk.

“You’re so good… such a good girl,” Your father coos as his fingers continue to card through your hair.

Chest continues heave erratically as Mr. Styles hips begin to roll into your body, his grip controlling your hips to relax as he pastes himself. Sweaty fingertips persuading movements as the two men watch over how consumed you are by such pleasure. How your body twitches against the desk and mouth humming every few seconds trying to grasp a single comprehensive nerve.

“Letting us use like this,” Mr. Styles adds with thrust dragging slowly down your walls. “You’re the best bunny.” As his face leans down to press kisses amongst the wings of your back.

Again, annoyance flares through your father. His eyes shift away from your wrecked expression to cut his eyes towards the teacher who pays no mind to him when he dots his love along your shoulder. Fingers escape your hair to run along your neck before he’s leaning forward in your ear.

“I can make you feel better cherry,” He mutters while enveloping the sweet smell of your perfume that he’s missed so much when nestle in this spot. “Haven’t you missed me?”

“Yes sir… please?” You moan without hesitation as the feel of his thick beard rubs against your skin, so prickly yet smooth that it eases the adrenaline coursing through.

The familiar chuckle running across your cheek only reminds you just how much you’ve missed how playful and commanding he is over you. How you’ve missed his lengthy cock touching you just right as he roughs you up just the way you like, oh how you missed him tremendously.

“Switch.” Mr. Malik states as he pulls away from your face. His sight watching closely as Mr. Styles lands one last kiss along the shoulder opposite of him before he draws out of your bruised pussy.

They round the desk once again; this time Mr. Malik positions you on your back with the ends of your skirt running across your stomach and erect nipples on display. It’s the view before him that is just another reminder to your father why he’s so in love with you and the games you play. How cherry red and swollen your pussy looks, all wide and exposed with your juices glistening in the light that he can’t help himself but to lean forward and suck your lips into his mouth.

Tongue dragging up and down your stretched hole as he hums pleasantly from the mixed taste of you on his tongue. “Sir…” You moan delightfully, eyes rolling erotically as your back flexes against the damp desk.

“Always treat me so good,” You gasp just as he runs his flesh over your clit and circles it around his taste buds making you quiver against the feel.

He groans against you, one hand leaving your hip to collect your fingers along the desk and intertwine them together. Reassuring touch displaying itself in the heated room that Mr. Styles can’t help but feel envious at the pleasure he now brings you. He takes himself into his own hand and shifts along to where your head lies across the desk, his grip tapping his dick along your cheek.

Without hesitation your mouth is opening yet barely giving the needed attention as your father continues to swirl your bundles of nerves along his tongue.

“C’mon bunny, you can do better than that.” Mr. Styles comments just as another moan escapes your mouth with head falling back from Mr. Malik sucking your pussy back into his mouth.

“But daddy, it feels so good.” You moan with sight tearing away from your fathers nose rubbing against you to look towards your teacher who flares up at the comment.

He collects his dick back in his hand to tug himself off as he leans down, other hand holding your locks to lift your head to the point you get an even better view of your dad lapping his tongue all over you.

“I bet I can eat you pussy better than that.” Mr. Styles whispers so alluring that it has your heart singing at the words. “I know I make you feel better.” He continues with stubble rubbing against the temple of your forehead only making your eyes roll once again.

Both men in your ear jealous of each other having their way with you was the last thing you expected especially since they were the one who came up with this plan. Yet, both of them are possessive of your attention and telling you how much better they can make you feel compared to the other, god, you can really die happy right now.

“Daddy always knows how to treat you right, always knows what to do.” He mutters as he continues to jerk off to the whimpers falling across his neck.

“Yes, yes you do.” Moaning along to his words as you watch your father lick back up your folds sloppily to swirl your clit along his tongue once more before pulling away and positioning himself over your swollen hole.

“That’s my bunny… my good girl.” Mr. Styles encourages as he feels your breath hitch amongst his skin. “Aren’t you daddy’s good girl, c’mon, tell me.”

“I’m daddy’s —Oh, fuck!” You cry out just as Mr. Malik pushes in, his cock easily descending down your wall as finds his paste and brings himself back to reminding you of what you missed out on.

The solid feel of him thumping against your walls so stretched and ruined from these two has your mouth hanging open. Sight still watches closely as his long cock drives into your drenched pussy while you have the best view of it happening as your teacher continues to prop your head up for you to watch.

“Come on love, get it out.” Mr. Malik smirks as his hand leaves yours to collect your bouncing breast. “Tell us how much you love being a dirty little slut.” He adds with other hand gripping your knee and pushing it towards your chest as he takes lengthy rough strides into your pussy.

“Love being stretched out, huh? Having me and your teacher share you. Such a dirty dirty girl.” He continues to gas as he bruises your sweet spot with little effort in such a short amount of time.

“Oh my god,” You moan with sight blurring towards your father and hand reaching out to grab Mr. Styles’ body.

You’re completely overstimulated and frankly every single time your step dad draws his hips to thrust back in you feel as if you want to explode. His head continuously rubs along your g-spot and leaves you a soaking mess of sweat and your sweet fluid. This feeling is so foreign, from two different cocks barreling down your walls to the third climax already making itself known, you might just pass out.

“This is so hot,” You whine as nails draw down your teacher's skin as you both continue to watch his cock disappear and have you jerking up the desk as a result of the new position. “Fuck this feels so good.” As your repetto heels dangle in the air as Mr. Malik’s lean body continues to plow into your tired pussy.

“Don’t stop, please.” You encourage as your gaze begins to trail away and sight become clouded from your eyelids drifting you away into the pleasure barreling down your spine.

Your father doesn’t object or even halt his alluring motions to tease you. He continues to fuck you just the way you like; fast and hard to point he’s leaving little space between your hips as he thrust back in not only loving the way you feel wrapped around him but also the look crossing over your face.

Heated cheeks, glossy eyes, and twitching nose as your mouth expels hesitant moans as if unable to control yourself from coming undone for the third time. Looking as if on another planet from the expression crossing over as if discovering a new found wonder. Your jaw goes slack, sight becoming drowsy and spit falling from your bottom lip as the grip you have along your teacher's chest tears away as one cards through your hair and the other goes to rub your clit only increasing the pleasure coursing through.

“Jesus… fuck… I can’t—” Words being cut off as a squeal rips through your throat as a wave of arousal squirts along your fathers abdomen.

The feeling so intense it has your thighs shake against his never ending thrusts as your movements never halt from the pads of your fingers continuing to circle along your bundle of nerves. “Mmm, sir… sir… sir.” Humming his name as your hand leaves your hair and presses against his jolting hips.

Your waist retreats into the desk at the overwhelming feeling crashing over you. How the plummeting assaults of his thrust made a mess all over your father and the school floors.

Mr. Malik lets his strides relax, his touch along your breasts feeling over your side as pulls out. The empty feeling of him leaving as well as the aftermath of your orgasm has you crying softly.

“Look so pretty, baby.” He comments before he’s leaning down again and slurping the remaining juices just projected.

“Holy shit.” You sigh as your hold travels to his hair tickling amongst your inner thigh.

Your step-father is doing everything in his power to spark all your memories together and Mr. Styles finds it obvious, and sure enough it has him fuming. It already pissed him off that you had a father figure, making him seem like he’s the only one. But, it wasn’t even that. It was the fact that he plays with you the way he wants, and the way he’s been imagining and dying to do ever since he felt you wrapped around him.

He gets to spend all this time with you and have your attention whenever needed but with him he has to fight and play petty games with his own student. He’s jealous, how can he not be? He finally had you just to discover there was someone else which only makes him having to prove himself even further by having mark his territory someway, somehow.

“Switch.” Mr. Styles demands letting his grip over your hair gently place you back on the table. Mr. Malik’s eyes cut towards the teacher before his lips are sucking your folds into his mouth once more. Flesh parting with a pop as he pulls away from his turn.

“Mmm… sir,” You whimper as his handsome face comes into view, his touch drawing up your stomach as you bat your eyes at him. “I missed you so much.”

“I know baby, I know.” He coos as he takes himself into his hand and examines the way your breasts shift to how you look completely ruined.

“I missed you too… how good you are to me, I missed you so much.” He reveals which only has Mr. Styles reeling. His eyes turn away from the sight before him as he collects himself to push into your pussy.

“Fuck,” Your view turning away from your father and towards the teacher slowly stroking himself in you.

“Mhmm… look at me while I fuck you bunny.” Teacher boasting concedingly as he gently nestles his hips alongside yours before pulling away and drawing back in steadily that it has you crying out.

“This feels so good,” You moan. One hand drawing up your body to rest along your fathers chest as the other goes towards your pussy and feels where you two both meet.

“Yeah, that’s what I like to hear.” He grunts as he begins to jerk his thrust roughly into you that you’re jolting up the desk and whining pathetically.

Mr. Malik lips twist into his mouth as he looks over you enjoying yourself as the teacher has his turn. He pays attention to your erect nipples and swaying head as your nails curve into his skin and drag down the expanse, you’re loving this experience as if on a whole new high that you want to ride on forever, and your father can’t help but moan lowly at the sight at how used you look.

Messy hair, sweat collecting around your temples as you spread your legs wide to continue to let them assault your pussy any way they want. You’re so eager, ready to please and deliver this perfect pussy on a platter to these two men just by persuading words and alluring touch. God, you turn him on more than you’ll ever know, cause as much as he hates sharing you, watching your face completely blissed out and screwed was sexy.

His free hand collects yours running across his chest and guides it towards his cock. Fingers immediately wrapping around him and jerking the lengthy cock in your palm as your other hand feels each time Mr. Styles presses himself snug against your pussy before drawing out with all his girth to slot himself back in roughly and repeat those devious motions.

“Oh. My. God.” Words falling out with each aggressive thrust as he never stops stretching you out.

“You’re pussy is so wet,” Mr. Styles grunts in pleasure, absolutely loving the way you feel around him with the added feeling over your fingers lingering alongside his wet cock whenever pulling out.

“It’s fucking amazing,” He moans before his hands are wrapping around your thighs to pull further into him.

Body drags amongst the heated service as he tightens his grip to make you feel every inch of him as he dips back into your slick walls, so bruised and tired as he continues to stretch you out. It burns in the most pleasurable way possible, the difference in cocks filling you up to the point you're intoxicated off such emotions coursing through.

Thick member coated in a mixture of fluid from all three bodies adding comfort to sore walls that aid you in feeling as if being underwater. The head of his cock pounds away at your cervix until he pulls out, letting you feel every veiny pulse of him thump against your tired walls to breech yourself along your wide hole before pushing back in again.

“Daddy… I love the way you make me feel.” You whimper as your hand tightens around your father as eyes look towards your teacher who leans forward.

His mouth parts to welcome your touch sloppily pressing against his when his hips strike into your pussy beautifully. The jolting of his waist only makes your lips bump each other messingly as he drinks in every sound you make.

“Daddy.” You whine pathetically as your neck no longer finds the strength to look over him fucking you but to fall against the clammy desk and catch sight between the two men captivated by your prescence.

“Bunny.” Mr. Styles grunts as his lips descend down your neck and goes over the hickeys scratching the service.

The frayed ends of his curls bob in your vision as your father's eyes detect every twitch combing over your frame. His feeling through your hair as he steps closer to you which only encourages your mouth to lean over to suckle the crown of his cock.

“Ah fuck, cherry.” Mr. Malik groans as his head leans back in distraught at how you drive him insane so easily.

Hearing both of your nicknames pass through their lips while having their touch roam all across your skin to fill you up repeatedly that it doesn’t surprise you at your climax making itself known in just a matter of seconds. The most exhilarating feeling sparks every vein in your body with shivers in adrenaline at your fourth climax overtaking you.

Sinking pleasure builds up in your abdomen once more that only leaves you to relieving yourself by letting your fingertips rub against your clit and have another wave of arousal trickle out of your pussy. A broken whine ripping from your throat as your eyes tear up by being so enthralled due to the feeling overcoming you.

“That’s it baby,” Mr. Styles breathes against your skin as his hips never stop their riveting motions. The feeling of you pulsing around erratically has him groaning at the feel. Tiny squirms blanketing him in pure warmth and wetness that his hips stutter when drawing back.

His love pulls away from your neck to look and watch the way you wrap around him all snug. Your pussy lips rippling against each movement of him into your exhausted heat still accepting every jab into your soiled box.

“Daddy…” You whine once again as your hand pulls your fathers cock away from your mouth to collect his balls and fit them in their place. The delicate feel of your lips sucking them into your mouth has Mr. Malik scratch your scalp lovingly.

“Jesus Christ.” He moans while letting his free hand enclose around his cock and jerk himself off.

Swollen glands glistening in the glow of the room as your lips obnoxiously slurp all around him and hum pleasantly while Mr. Styles still rocks into you. It has his eyes roll at the sight; seeing your mouth stuffed and put to work as your pussy lies spread out and abused on his desk. It’s the sight alone that has his hips twitching once more, with vision blurring as his neck cranes down just about ready to fall apart.

“Holy shit.” He sighs, as his grip against your thighs begin to leave bruises in their wake at the feeling of you wrapping around him is on a whole nother level. “You’re such a good girl, such a good fuckin girl.” He grunts as he can’t help his next thrusts from being messy and uncoordinated as his toes begin to curl.

The compliment is so reassuring that subconsciously you bat your lashes up in the position you're laid in, the connection between your step father and you as you suck his balls into your mouth so greedily like you were starving only made it right for him to cum at the sight.

The grip in your hair controls your head as he pulls you away from his sack and lets his seed paint itself across your cheek to dribble into the middle of your tongue. Yet, at the same time your teacher is emptying himself into your disheveled hole as he continues to fuck himself through his orgasm as your father taps away the remaining fluid he expels along the tip of your lips.

“Mhmm… that’s my cherry.” Mr. Malik hushes before he’s pulling away from his position over you. The hand that wrapped around his cock collecting the cum along your cheek and fitting it into your mouth just like the beginning of this escapade.

“My favorite girl.” He adds, as he watches you moan around his fingers and twirl your tongue around the digit.

Mr. Styles continues to thrust himself in sluggishly, the overwhelming feeling of his cum and your own juices overflowing in your pussy that with each draw out of the tired walls does traces of your combined fluids drip and run down your swollen lips.

“God, you’re going to be the death of me.” He breathes out before his hand is released from your thigh as he takes himself in his hand. Cock sliding out of your pussy to let the mixture ooze out of your warmth in a thick cream pie that has you moaning at the feel.

“Mhmm…” You hum, with sight looking between your father dragging his wet finger amongst your bruised lips to swipe your saliva amongst the flesh to your teacher who watches your sore pussy dazzle in the light.

“That was good, wasn’t it baby?” Mr. Malik questions while letting his touch trail across your skin to bring your focus back to him.

You immediately nod your head. Tongue escaping your mouth to run across your lips and offer an exhausted smile as your fingers shake nervously amongst your overused clit.

“It was amazing.” You breathe out as you feel your teachers come begin to seep along the folds of your cheeks as your father begins to sit you up in a better position.

“I’m glad… but you do need to hurry up and dress. Your mother is probably on her way back by now.” The mention of your older peer is enough to have your burning thighs closing amongst each other as your elbow fixes your posture on the desk as you lean forward, an overpitched whine tearing through your throat at the soggy feel of liquid running down your inner thigh to the way your pussy feels so used.

“W-what’s wrong?” Mr. Styles questions while stepping forward and taking your hip in his hand as Mr. Malik gives him cut eye at the affection while he rubs your back.

“She’s fine, just worked up. Isn’t that right sweetheart?” He remarks while leaning forward and pressing his lips against your sweaty temple. Your teacher's nose wrinkles at the sight, and wanting to help you in any way possible he leans over the desk where his discarded blazer lies and pulls his handkerchief out to collect the fluid still spilling out amongst his desk.

The cool silk material has you whimper slightly from the feel, eyes fluttering for a moment as a lopsided grin tugs at the end of your lips.

“Mmm thank you so much daddy.” You remark that has your step father pull away from your feverish skin to watch Mr. Styles collect the rest of his seed before he’s walking towards the garbage bin to throw out the material. It’s only right for your father to be possessive at such words falling in front of his face; does his grip over your chin only grow tighter when he breathes into your ear.

“When you get home you’re getting more than a punishment for this.” It has your eyebrows knot together but still doesn’t stop the dreamy look crossing over your face.

“Why? I thought this was part of your plan?” Sarcasm evident in your tone that makes him pull away and roughly turn your body towards his still looking as if he’ll like to destroy you.

“You think I like having your attention elsewhere?” He questions while his free hand grabs your forgotten dress shirt and wraps it along your shoulders. “Now hurry up and dress.”

Without objection you do, and like always your father is there to help you put yourself and him back together to keep the facade alive. Collar tucked high to conceal the bite marks roaming around, skirt being unrolled to cover the red smacks daunting along your skin, while you wipe under your eyes to remove any marks of distress from your promiscuous endeavors.

Just like before when you stood between them so scared of what they have in store in your refined pressed uniform, you manage to still hold that innocent appeal after everything that just happened. Mr. Styles watches closely. The way your father fixes the buttons along your chest before running his palms over the creases in your blazer, his eyes fixing you up and making you look perfect like he’s done this a million times before, and he can’t help but feel upset that he won’t get to experience that with you.

As if feeling his gaze your head turns and connects with your teacher. Smile tugging amongst your lips as he pretends to not watch the affection taking place as he continues to zip himself back up.

You knew that the threesome happening was too good to be true, and hell, you’re surprised you even lived through it after the constant back and forth of them spreading you apart and pushing you past your limits. Sure, it was intended as a punishment, and your father did make it known that it would be way worse when home, but you can’t help but feel sad that you only have a month left with Mr. Styles and didn’t want to leave it to just this.

“Father?” You say loud enough for the two men in the room to hear. He hums acknowledging you as his hands continue to fix your uniform.

“Don’t you think I’ll need a tutor for my summer classes?”

It makes both men's eyebrows perch on top of their foreheads. The teacher sucks in a surprise breath as your father kisses his teeth in frustration at your never ending games still taking place.

“You don’t need a tutor for that, your courses will be easy.”

“But sir… please.” You pout with eyes batting up at him which he only shakes his head at. Your vision rolls concededly before your head is shifting around and looking at the teacher who remains with his eye contact still on you. “Come here.” You gesture for him to make his way over, which he does, and to that you're happy about as you lean your head on his bicep.

“Please father… wouldn’t it be fun to do this again. I love having you both share me… it feels so good.” You continue pleading while your free hand goes to drag up his suited chest and slide up the nape of his neck. “And just imagine, in the abandoned maid quarters, how fun and exciting it’ll be!”

Mr. Malik watches the way your eyes beam with excitement and how your teeth shine at the endless possibilities that could happen this summer if giving the teacher the opportunity to privately tutor you from home. He knows it’ll make you happy, knows it probably top everything he’s ever done for you in the years that you’ve been sneaking around, but he’s unsure if that’s what he wants.

He likes you all to himself, no one else having you - despite this instance - but fuck, he can’t deny how hot it was to see you spread out and so fucked and used in a spam of an hour just between the two of them. He doesn’t want to admit that it turns him on, but it does. And maybe, just maybe, there might be a perfect alliance brewing from this day forward.

Hazel sight connects with green, and as he bows his head in a silent nod of gratitude of going along to his plan his head leans away from the sight of him and back to you, still needy and ready for anything in store that he smiles recklessly at the view.

“We’ll see.” He says, which only makes you pout and tear your hand away from his skin. Arms crossing over your chest as your eyes continue to bat up at him to get what you want like you always do. “Stop doing that. Now hurry to your dorm to fix your hair, we don’t need any questions, now do we?”

“No.” You huff before you're leaning off the teacher's arm and sliding off the desk. Mr. Malik makes space to let you pass him and begin to head towards the door to continue fixing up your appearance.

But, it would be unlike you to not be the tease you are, to not get what you want whenever asked. So as your hand turns the door knob and you twist around to look at the two men who spit roasted you in this room, you smirk at them before dropping your eye into a wink.

“Thank you so much for the fun this evening, I can’t wait to see what this summer will have in store for us.”

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Special Episode III

Calm After the Storm

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff.

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)

Warnings: nsfw, smut, fluff, profanity, age gap, rut cycle, heat cycle, extreme knotting, marking, scenting, territorial/possessive behaviour, breeding kink, p in v, mating/bonding, multiple climaxes, creampie, belly bulge, actual breeding, let me know if I forgot anything?

Word Count: 6.3k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Happy halloween guys! I know I literally fell off the face of the earth and I will make another post to address that. But I know I haven’t participated for @pandoraslxna ‘s kinktober event (I’m so sorry bby) but if I could only participate for one of the days it would be today for sure. So I definitely wanted to get this out before midnight. It’s not purely a/b/o but honestly entails all the aspects of it. I think we can all definitely tell who’s the alpha and omega here (Ralak is alpha material hands down, ofc). I hope you guys enjoy this one, and I apologize for such a wait <3 Also I feel like I’m a bit rusty, so apologies for any typos, errors, or just plain suckish writing.

ALSO a big happy birthday to my babe @neteyamsoare <3 love you and hope it was a good one!!

Synopsis: Your heat starts to subside, but Ralak’s rut is only getting stronger. What could possibly go wrong?

<- Previous -> Next

——

Only an hour has passed before you feel your not-so-gentle giant stirring behind you, waking you from your sleep. You’d both been on your sides for too long now and everywhere seems to ache. You whine when you feel his hips shift against you, tugging at the immense pressure between your hips. The bulge protruding from your lower abdomen has barely gone down and you feel almost as full as you did when he initially emptied his load inside you.

Silken strands of his hair fall onto your prickled skin as he props himself up on his elbow from behind you, perching his chin on your throbbing shoulder. He inhales deeply – longingly. His hot breath gently blows against your neck just as you feel his arm snake under your leg and yank it back in one rough tug.

“Ralak.” His name falls from your lips through a nearly inaudible croak. “‘m so full.” You barely mumble out, rolling your head to the side. Yet, the flame within you is without a doubt reigniting with a vengeance.

And he can sense it.

Simply by the way you push back into him, making that bulge in your belly protrude a little more. His large hand resting on your stomach can indubitably feel it. And the smile that it puts on his face is almost baleful, bearing his lengthy canines that yearn to sink deep into you once more. “Sorry, tìyawn [love].”

He just can’t help it.

No matter how hard he tried. The desire—no, the need—to fuck into you and claim you as his time and time again is… irrepressible. In this moment, nothing else felt better than your little, used cunt hugging his cock so tightly that it almost hurts. He yearns to fill you over and over. Again and again until your womb is overflowing with his seed. The mere thought has his balls pulling tight to his body, firming up by the second all just to flood your womb again.

“Muntxate [wife].” Ralak growls into your neck, sliding his hand down to your inner thigh. “I will try to be–” He groans slowly, his pointer finger now burrowing itself between your tied pelvises, “–flrr [gentle].”

The final accented word comes out roughly, and if it weren’t for his finger slipping past his knot and into your cunt, you would’ve probably heard it clearly. You yelp out when he traces his finger around his knot, stretching your already taut skin, attempting to work a little space to allow his bulge to slip out.

It's all consuming and you’re simply too overwhelmed with his size that you fail to realise how your body is synced with his and bearing down to push him out. All whilst he’s struggling to fight the snap of hips to avoid hurting you. But the tugging is nothing like you’ve felt before adn you can finally understand why he was so insistent in the first place.

ut there was no getting out of this now, not that you even wanted to.

“It–it’s…” You brace yourself by grabbing onto his forearm, “...t-too big.”

“Ngaytxoa [sorry]” He huffs out his fourth apology, losing himself once again as his hips finally jerk back out of his control.

Pop.

His knot slips out of you with such force that the squelch it makes is as loud as your whimper. It’s so wet and slippery that his cock follows behind his knot, sliding out of you effortlessly. He’s more than half-hard yet so heavy and hung it rests close to your knee. Then you feel it. His cum dribbling down your thigh, still warm and sticky as if he just filled you up seconds ago.

It’s such a conflicting feeling — a mixture of relief and pent up frustration. Your heat is still in full bloom, despite it being so quenched until you’re almost nauseated. It’s as if you were two pieces perfectly linked together, allowing nature to run its course with no second thought. He grunts when he feels the crisp night air against his groin, his cock now springing up to its full length in just a few seconds.

He, too, feels some sort of feverish way now. Itching to be back inside your warmth, enveloped by your gummy, slimy walls. He opts to pepper wet kisses along your neck, and then up to your jaw, lingering there as he tries to distract himself from the ache to shove it back inside you.

Until it becomes too much.

“Tanhì.” He moans into your ear, heavy lidded eyes struggling to stay open as his tongue trails the skin on the back of your neck. “Need you.” It’s his way of begging for permission. Permission to slam his cock back inside you and hammer into you until the annoying itch deep in his core goes away again. You were the only one to make it go away. To stop the hurt. “Please.” He whines out a plea of desperation, now gritting his teeth from the way his stomach is tensing. “Now.”

But that last plea wasn’t much of a question, no. It was more of a demand. A way of saying, ‘give it to me, or I’ll take you on my own terms’.

“Fuck.” You mumble under your breath, sliding your free hand down your side to hook it under your leg. You pull it back and reposition your hips to give him access to your cunt. “P-Put it in, ‘Lak.”

Ralak’s hips begin to stutter — the leaking, mushroomy tip of his cock now repeatedly prodding between your puffed up folds. His breath turns raggedy as he tries to guide himself back inside you handsfree. Your slick is overflowing, making it even more difficult for him to align himself with your entrance. The frustration brewing within him bubbles over when his cockhead glides past your swollen clit instead of sinking in your cunt. So he pulls back in one swift move and —

Thrust.

Your body jolts from how quickly he slams every inch of his cock inside you, forcing you split-open. Ralak huffs a shaky sigh of relief, his breathing growing a little steadier now that he’s deep inside his mate. Meanwhile, your mouth hangs agape yet no sound falls from your lips. Your eyes well up with tears and your ears lay flat against your skull. Your body is in complete submission to the beast dominating it and there’s nothing else you can do but give in to the pleasure.

“Your scent.” He whispers open-mouthed, tips of his canines grazing the nape of your neck. “It is driving me crazy.” You release the breath that you didn’t even realise you were holding. You didn’t even know what to say. Not like you could really say much right now anyways. You’re too lost in the fog of your own heat. For once, Ralak is doing most of the talking. “It makes me…” He snaps his hips back, only leaving half of his length inside you. “...lose myself completely.”

A deep roll of his hips.

A lewd moan dripping off your lips. 

“How do you do that?” He huffs, pressing his teeth against your neck. You don’t answer yet again. You just can’t find the words. Not right now. Not when he’s so deep inside you. “Hm?” A deep growl vibrates up his throat, his teeth just barely piercing the first layer of your silken skin.

“I—” You’re cut off by your own squeal when you feel the sting of his bite. Your breath catches in your throat and he immediately unlatches, lapping at the nicked skin to soothe it. “Sorry.” He whispers breathlessly, planting a quick kiss on each of your marks. “Sorry. Sorry.” A few more apologies flow from his mouth, as if he were drunk off of too much fermented fruit. Somewhat lucid but still so spaced. “I cannot —ngh— help myself.”

Thrust.

“‘M sorry.”

He knows he went a little too deep just now. But you feel so fucking good around his cock.

Chomp.

Another mark. Right on the bend of your shoulder, next to your first.

“Ngaytxoa [I’m sorry]”

A small cry from your quivering lips.

“S-Stop. No more apologies. I am yours to do what you p-please with.” You finally get out in one, weary breath.

Ralak’s languid, deep thrusts are laced with desperation. And with each stroke they become harsher and harsher. Faster and faster. Now he’s got your full permission he lets go once more, falling into the thick fog of his rut.

Within seconds his cock is pumping in and out of you, his half-deflated knot continuously prodding and poking at your entrance. The tip of his cock drags against your walls, putting an immense pressure right on your sweet spot. Yet still, sounds barely fall from your flushed lips. You’re too out of it. Too focused on the raw sensations rippling through you all at once. His overwhelming pheromones. His marking. His relentless pounding.

Rather, hot tears well over your eyes and stream down your face.

He can’t stop slamming himself inside you. He doesn’t want it to stop. It’s absolute rapture and he’s unapologetically drowning in it.

“Tanhì. Tanhì.” He groans needily. “y/n.”

He only says your name when he’s serious about something.

And hearing it drip from his tongue onto the nape of your neck has your hairs standing high and your clit throbbing.

“Eywa. Yes, ‘lak? T-Tell me what you need.” You blubber out, tightening your grip on his forearm.

“Haa — spread yourself.” He demands, prompting you to tuck your leg back as far as you can. His pace quickens, hips striking you with a sinful vengeance. But no matter how hard he fucks you, or how deep he buries himself inside you — its just not enough. He needs to be closer. To be deeper. To really be inside you. To knot you.

“More.” He grunts, slowing his thrusts into rocking, grinding himself inside your slippery, tight cunt.

You go to tug at your leg and meet nothing but resistance. “I-I’m trying.” You can feel it now. Perhaps it’s the bond or maybe it’s the way his knot is working you open but he’s growing more and more frustrated by the thrust.

“Mmmh. Wider.”

“I can’t. I can’t.” You’re quick to answer, feeling nothing but pressure from the way he’s trying to shove more of himself inside you.

“Agh.” He growls in frustration, pulling out of you and grabbing you by the ankle to flip you onto your back.

Ralak situates himself between your legs without hesitation and pushes them so far back your knees graze against the tips of your ears. You can barely breathe in this position and are having a hard time seeing anything else but his raging cock at your entrance. You can feel the burn in your thighs from how far back he’s shoving your knees but that sting is masked by the pleasure of him plunging himself back into your pussy.

The moan that rips from your lips is obscene and like no other. The crown of his cock is drilling itself directly into your sweet spot, causing it to swell with unadulterated pleasure. And each time he pulls out just to sink it back inside you he winds you in the process – making you sputter out absolute nonsense. Even he knows you're close, despite being in the thick of his rut.

But frankly, he doesn't care.

All he’s concerned about is satisfying his own urges.

“Not enough.” He grits through his teeth as his eyes shift to an even deeper shade of mauve. “‘ts not enough.” He pants, voice laced with something of worry. Panic that this feeling won’t go away. It makes you panic too, wondering if you’re doing enough for him. If he’s going to take even more from you. If you can manage it.

“You’re okay. Do what you need.” You try to reassure him, grasping your feet and holding them back–opening yourself up even more. But fuck, that only made things worst for you.

And by worst, you mean better. It feels like you’ll burst any second now, especially with how much pressure is on your bladder. “Fu-ck me. God, fuck–ahaa-fuck me.”

His brows bunch together as he peers down at you, beads of sweat rolling off his face to drip onto your chest. His jaw is so tense it looks as if it may fracture. He’s grunting with every push and huffing with every pull.

“Right there! Fuck. I’m close. I’m so fucking close. I-I need you to cum i-inside me. Oh—please ‘lak. Please!” Your cries are choked and muffled, breaths short and raggedy. The heat pooling in your core is unbearable. It needs out. Now.

Ralak swallows. Hard. Through his own haze he can see that you’re in need too. He shuffles closer to you, tucking his feet under him to assume a squatting position. Now he’s all but on top of you, folding you into a merciless mating press. This one shift in position has you coming undone on his cock, coating it in your thick slick as you sob from the white hot pleasure. The force of your climax has you pushing him out and only has him drilling himself further inside you. If it’s not for the way your pussy walls tighten around him surely his knot would have popped inside you by now.

He’s still fucking into you, right through your orgasm and towards his.

“Say what you need.” He panics through a tightened jaw, grinding himself inside you – pushing his knot against the resistance.

You know what he’s actually asking from you. To say something. Anything to tip him over the edge. To rid him of this maddening itch.

“Breed me.” You whisper, locking eyes with him. You watch as his pupils blow into thin rings and then constrict into nothing but dots. You try to swallow what spit you could, attempting to clear your throat. “Breed me. Please.”

“Then take it.” He lets loose a sinister growl, putting all his weight into his final push. For the first time, you feel his knot pop inside you, veiny and as thick as can be. You let out a high-pitched whimper, and feel your teeth begin to chatter. That doesn’t make him ease up, though. He continues to grind himself inside you until you feel the familiar, warm sensation of his sticky seed spraying inside you – filling your womb to the brim. His cock throbs wildly, in perfect synchrony with his own heartbeat, and soon yours too as the bond equilibrates your souls once more.

Strangely, you thought you’d be sore and overstimulated by now, but your body has never felt better. You’re full and content and more than satiated. Ralak heaves a sigh — one of pure relief. It’s glued to his face. All panic washes away and he’s feeling more at peace the longer he remains inside you. He’s rigid, firmly holding his position on top of you — ensuring he empties every single drop inside you. Yet, his heavy lidded eyes begin to close.

“I can’t breathe.” You mumble, snapping him out of his tranquil trance. His eyes meet yours and the corner of his mouth pulls into a little smirk. He exhales a breathy chuckle and carefully manoeuvres you both into a more comfortable position. He settles himself on his back and supports your body whilst positioning you on top of him.

“Better?” Ralak husks, drawing circles into your back with the tip of his finger.

You take a deep breath, filling your lungs to full capacity and then slowly release it. “Much.”

“Nga yawne lu oer [I love you]” His accented words slur together as he dozes off.

“Nga yawne lu oer, Ralak [I love you].”

——

Ralak woke repeatedly throughout the night for his fill. If it wasn’t him, it was you. Waking up in a clammy state, shaking and nuzzling into his chest from your heat. You honestly thought that the more time passed — the more rounds you went — the more he would calm down.

But, you thought wrong.

He’d start by leaving tender kisses wherever he could, whispering he’d do his best to be as gentle as he can be. Then, he’d slip a finger inside you, stretching you out in attempts to pull his knot out without hurting you. But it would always sting, even just a little bit. After that he’d beg. Pleading with you to let him back in, and apologize right after plunging inside you regardless of your answer—which was always yes.

At this point your own foggy haze would take over. Perhaps it was your body’s way of coping with the overstimulation, but you pined for every single second of it. Sometimes it would last for a few minutes. Where he’d be quick to fold you in two and growl in the shell of your ear, ‘you’re mine, haah — fuck, take me’. 

Sometimes it was closer to an hour. Where you’d both be so tired you’d take breaks, lazily taking turns fucking each other, telling him to ‘put it back in’ whenever he’d slip out. But one thing remained the same every time. You’d sob when you’d cum and then beg him to breed you. And he would, without a doubt, breed you.

Mercilessly.

And with each breeding, he’d lose himself a little deeper. Knotting you over and over. Marking you repeatedly until your body’s littered with bites. Until you were so fucked out you’d lost the feeling in your legs. Until your throat was so dry you could barely speak. Until you needed a break.

——

“Wait.” You crawl towards the bedside table with wobbly knees. “Just need some water, Lak.”

Ralak pounces on you, knocking you onto your stomach and pressing himself against you. You extend an arm out, fingers splayed out and shaking from you trying to reach the cup of water Ka’ani left there more than a day ago. Ralak grabs your hips and hoists you up onto your knees and elbows, and mounts you from behind.

“Water. Water, Lak.” You beg with a hoarse cry, only for him to line the crown of his cock up with your sopping cunt. He growls next to your ear as he stretches over you and reaches for the cup of water, filling his cheeks and putting it back down within a couple seconds. With a quick grip of your jaw, he turns your head and meets his lips with yours.

Before you can process what’s going on you’re gulping down water as fast as you can. And when he pulls away, you’re yet again met with the hazy eyes of his rut. That’s when it dawns on you that whilst your heat is coming to an end, his rut is only getting stronger.

Rather than looking away, he locks his gaze onto you, just so he can watch your face screw as he slams his cock inside of you in one, hard thrust. It works a sudden, breathy moan from your mouth, eyebrows pinching together from the stretch. He holds his position, basking in the warmth and tightness of your cunt as his breath goes shaky.

“Wait.” You mumble weakly, shoving a hand behind you to push against his lower stomach. “Please.”

For the first time, you were telling him to stop.

His jawbone flutters as his eyes search yours. Restraint plasters to his face, and the only audible thing is his heavy breathing. He nods. Just once. A firm and intentional nod. He swallows the residual water left in his mouth and tenderly pulls out of you. You hear the thud of his footsteps quiet down as he nears the marui door, and then the splash of the water when he dives into the rough sea.

It’s pouring outside.

Storming, actually. Thundering and lightning. Yet he feels this is the only way he’d be able to resist the urge to storm back in and fuck you. But the instinct to protect his mate, even if it’s from himself, is more than enough to give him the willpower to walk away.

You take this moment to just breathe, turning your head to face the plush bed beneath you as you gather your thoughts. Did he just show that much restraint? Enough to walk away from a female na’vi during her heat cycle… all whilst in the height of his own rut cycle?

“Lekye’ung [insane]” You mutter, using your trembling hand to grab and bring the cup to your lips. They, too, are sore and chapped. Having gone so many hours without any food or water, you knock it back, shaking the cup to get out every drop. Finished already? You think to yourself, looking inside the cup with hazed vision, confirming it’s indeed empty.

After setting it back down onto the table, you slump back into the bedhead, relaxing your body. You’re sore. Actually, sore is an understatement. Every single muscle and fiber in your body burns—and that isn’t entirely due to your heat either now that it’s finally subsiding. Perhaps you should be taking this time to have a look at your… condition, but you’re finding it harder and harder to keep your eyes open.

So you give in, sinking further and further into the bed as you doze off.

—

A few hours go by and Ralak returns with a net of fish thrown over his shoulder and a bucket of fresh water perched on his hip. He carefully sets down the bucket and rests the net next to the fire pit. He’s cautious not to wake you, nor come too close to you. Ralak ignites the fire and fans the flame. As quietly as possible, he prepares and cooks the fish, setting them aside to wrap in the leaves of a spartan tree.

Since coming to Awa’atltu, one of your biggest adjustments—despite the obvious—has been your change in diet. Fish weren’t uncommon back home, but they certainly weren’t the main source of food. You prefer the other foods here, your favourite being what you call ‘inland boar’, which is an animal that resembles what your father calls a ‘pig’ from his star.

But not even that, (boar) could smell better than this (fish).

The aroma alone rouses you from your sleep.

Your eyes open to a dark room and a glowing fire pit. The fire is out but the wood remains hot, shifting among different shades of orange and red. Ralak sits beside it, with his back leaning against the support beam of the pod. His arms are crossed over his chest and his knees are slightly bent. It’s hard to see more than just his silhouette with the lack of moonlight.

“That smells good.” You rasp. Ralak’s eyes fly open to reveal a familiar shade of deep blue. Like the sea. They glow and flicker before you, examining you now that you’re sitting up out of bed.

Crack.

A bolt of lightning strikes in the distance, illuminating the room. For a moment, you were able to see every single bike mark, scratch and bruise you’ve given him. It also reveals that he’s shaking. Trembling from being wet and cold, or possibly from the strain he was putting himself through from just being in the same room as you.

Ralak moves quickly, shuffling to his feet and going right for the leaf that holds a few sloppily rolled fish. He brings it to you, setting it slowly on your lap, being overly cautious not to touch you. Grabbing your cup on the table, he dunks it in the bucket and sets it beside you.

“Eat.” He whispers, backing away to sit next to the pit. You watch as he slides down the beam and into a sitting position, and then glance down at your food. Saliva pools in your mouth from the aroma wafting up your nose.

You’re hungry.

“Thank you.” You say quietly, hastily stuffing an entire roll into your mouth.

You moan as you chew, nodding your head from how good it tastes. It’s hard to swallow, given that you bit off more than you could chew—literally—but when it finally goesdown you feel your stomach grumble for more. Ralak watches you intently. A wince screwing his face with every swallow he witnesses. And when you finish, you chug down your water and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

Another crack of lightning strikes, and then a low, lengthy rumble of thunder follows.

“That was… one of the best you’ve made, lak.” You say with a wobbly smile, slowly getting on your feet to wash your hands. The bucket is nearby your mate, who is still fixed in position. Although he remains unmoving, his eyes follow your every move. You shake your hands to dry them and shuffle over to Ralak and sit next to him.

“so… how do you feel?” You ask quietly, raising your hand to check if he’s feverish. He turns his head before your hand can make contact with his skin and his gaze locks onto the charred wood in the fire pit. 

“Fine.” Ralak mutters.

Eyebrows pinching in confusion, you tilt your head to try and look him in the eye. Your brows relax when you come to the realisation that he’s already taken care of himself. And only Eywa knows how many times.

“You know, you didn’t have to do that. I would have—”

“Ma’ muntxate [my wife]”He croaks, swiftly turning his head to look directly into your eyes. “Oeru txoa livu [please forgive me].”

“Txoa? [forgive?] What for, ma’ muntxatan? [husband]”

“I have… neglected you.” He’s struggling to speak. You can hear it in the strain of his voice.

Regardless, none of his words are really making any sense to you right now. How has he been neglectful? Despite the circumstances, it’s obvious he’s been trying his hardest to be good to you. Somehow, even conjuring up the strength to pull out of you and walk away.

“Ralak. You have not. Please, I—”

“Look at yourself.” He snaps, taking a quick glance at your body before dropping his head in his hands.

Crack.

Conveniently, another strike of lightning and boom of thunder, revealing exactly what he’s talking about. For a few seconds, you’re met with the sight of your battered body—scabbed and bruised. You lift your head, staring at his shameful demeanour. But the more you stare, the more you see your own reflection.

“And have you looked at yourself?” Your words bounce as you shuffle closer to him. “I bet you can’t even feel all that damage I’ve done to you.” You coo, using your thumb to gently graze past an easy six-inch scratch mark on his bicep. “I haven’t been so gentle with you either.”

Ralak shakes his head, allowing it to sink further into his hands. “You were starved.” He mumbles into the palms of his hands.

You sigh, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin in the dip between them. Your eyes wander over to the fire pit, catching sight of the outline of a few fish rolls.

Has he really punished himself by not eating?

“Have you eaten?” You ask, resting a gentle hand on his back.

“No need.”

“You should, you know. Don’t want you starving on me, lak.” You say lightheartedly, allowing your hand to slide up his spine and to the base of his skull.

He lets loose a quiet groan, fighting the twitch of his ears. Your fingers smooth over the base of his kuru, playing with the braid encasing that covers it. “If you do that—”

“Do what?” You whisper coyly, quickly running your hand down the length of his kuru.

His spine immediately straightens, his head lifting from his hands. The tips of your fingers gently make their way to his tendrils, carefully teasing them as they try to wrap around your digits. He sucks in a sharp breath and closes his eyes, allowing a shiver to run through him. It feels like your fingers were inside his skull, tickling his brain in the best way possible. 

Reaching for your kuru with your free hand, you bring it up and over your shoulder. You lean into Ralak, your lips only inches away from his. You pull away your fingers to grip and pull his queue forth. The loss of contact has him sitting up straight, opening his eyes to look at you.

“I will not let you suffer alone.” You whisper, lessening the distance between the two of you, tilting your head to the side ever so slightly. He stills himself, even limiting his own breath so as not to make any sudden moves. “Okay?”

You wait for just a moment. For him to say something. To move away. But he remains stock-still, waiting for you to initiate this. You smile, your top teeth briefly rubbing against this lower lip, and lock your lips with his. He exhales through his nose, coming to life from your kiss and returning it full force. You take this as a good sign. A sign that you’ve broken through that wall once again, and bring your kurus together — making tsaheylu [the bond].

Both your eyes fly open, blown pupils staring into one another as your spirits unify. You both pull back, shoulders and chests heaving from your quick, unsteady breaths. You feel all that he feels – the frustration, the panic, the tension. It’s all fading, now finally nearing the end. He feels your subsiding heat, your soreness, your overpowering urge to care for him.

Before another second could pass, your lips crash into each other again—tongues intertwining as they explore one another’s mouth. Using his hand to support your upper back, he slowly lowers you onto the woven floor, parting your legs with his free hand. He situates himself between them, pressing his crotch firmly against yours. He’s warm, just like the toasty fire pit next to you.

I will try to be gentle. Ralak thinks to you, just like he’s been promising to be night after night.

I know you will. You smile, moving your kisses down his jawline as he slides his hands between your sticky pelvises.

——

It hasn’t even been two full weeks since the synchronous heat that had you and your mate locked away in your marui pod for a little over two days. Your back and thighs–and honestly everywhere else– still ache but outside of that, you feel like a brand new person. You weren’t able to confidently say that Ralak feels the same way, however.

Of course, he was adamant on limiting intimacy until you were ‘healed and recovered’. But, he had a bounce in his step. As if he were physically lighter. As if the weight of six years of pent up sexual frustration and self neglect melted off his back when you satiated the ‘insatiable’.

The constant aftercare was almost sickening. Even after most of your marks had faded he remained adamant on treating them with your own omaticayan herbs from back home. He praised them at every use, thanking your people for making such exceptional ’umtsa [medicine].

But as you entered the second week, after tons of reassurance, things dissipated and went back to normal. Ralak went back to his usual routine—fishing, hunting, responding to a few calls to Tonowari and your father. Ralak, without a doubt, made a vow to you and himself not to initiate anything until you were more than healed. But nonetheless clung to you in the nights.

He even, in fact, added a new step into your usual nighttime regimen. As usual, it began with the snuggles and tucking you under his arm just right, providing you with enough warmth to endure the cool night air. Then, he would release the perfect amount of pheromones to get you drowsy enough for bed.

But recently, he’s spent the past seven nights delaying the nightly routine until he’s had his fill of your scent. He’d lay himself down on your chest, nuzzling his face into your bosom and just breathe. You allowed it, thinking it was his own newfound way to wind down for bed.

Yet, the real reason was much different.

——

Right on the two week mark, Tsireya had roped you in with helping her with some of her Tsakrem duties. You were always happy to help her though, as it meant getting away from the marui pod for a little even if it meant being poked and prodded at.

And it certainly didn’t take long for that to happen.

Tsireya lets out a frustrated sigh and plops the medicinal pouch she’s weaving in her lap.  “I can no longer ignore it, y/n. You smell different.”

You lift your head, tearing your focus from your task of weaving and look at her with a puzzled expression on your face. You bring the end of your tail to your nose and sniff, but smell… nothing. “Like what?” Her brows lower and her eyes glisten with concern. She purses her lips and unsheathes the lengthy pin from its casing and grabs your hand. “Here we go.” You mutter to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut as you anticipate the sting.

Prick.

“Sss—ah! You need to be careful with how deep you go with that, you know. You could really—” The tsahik in training puts the wooden stick to her tongue and stares at you wide eyed, mouth agape. It’s as if she wants to speak but the words are lodged in her throat. “What? What is it?”

“You—perhaps I am wrong.” She stutters, quickly sheathing the tool back into its casing. “You should see my mother, y/n.”

“What? Why? Just tell me.” The words come out in a haste, and your voice is laced with panic. Do you have some sort of disease of the sea? Is there a cure? 

“You — you are with child.” Her lips tremble as she says the words in an uncertain tone of voice.

“What?” You stare at her dumbfounded, a little caught off guard by her choice of words.

“Pregnant. You’re pregnant. But I am likely mistaken. I am only in training. Which is why I said you should see my moth—”

“Oh. No. You’re… you’re probably right, Tsireya.” You swallow the spit pooling in your cheeks, avoiding eye contact.

“H-How? I mean. I know how. But how? Surely Ralak knows not to do such a thing during your heat. He can control himself. R-Right?”

“Right. If I were the only one… in heat.” You say the last few words under your breath, fixing your shawl before picking back up your task.

“What do you mean?” Tsireya leans in with a tilted head, looking a little closer at your covered shoulder. “Did you help him with his rut?” Tsireya asks bluntly. “He’s been unmated for six years, y/n. Did you reall—”

“I am his mate. Of course I did.” You nearly snap, baffled by the tone she’s having with you.

“H-How did that even work?” Tsireya shakes her head, slowly raising her hand towards you.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You finally lift your head to shoot her a puzzled, yet offended stare. “It worked like it would for any other Na’vi.”

“Y/n…” Tsireya quickly grabs your shawl, pulling it off your shoulder to reveal a large, deep and scabbed up bite mark. It looks almost infected because of the strange omaticayan herbal concoction smeared over it. “You should have just let him ease you into it. Look at you, you’re all bruised and—”

“Tsireya.” You interject, “thank you for the concern, but—” you aggressively pull up your shawl, “I feel just fine. Besides, being in heat was the best way to ‘ease me into it’…He was as gentle as he could be.” You mutter, twiddling with the twine as you think back to the way he tried to handle you with care.

“By the looks of it, he was anything but gentle with you.” Tsireya seethes, angry that the man she grew up looking at like a brother would do something like this to you.

You wince at her words. They’re like a knife to the heart.

A long, awkward silence fills the space between you and Tsireya. She reflects on everything she’s said, realising that perhaps she was a little more harsh than needed. She softens her gaze, “I’m sorry. I should not have said that. I just hate seeing you hurt.”

“I get it. I know you’re just looking out for me. It’s alright, ‘reya.”

You exchange lighthearted smiles.

“You are definitely pregnant then. After six years, he must have really filled you—”

“Tsireya!” You laugh, giving her shoulder a light shove.

Tsireya’s grin morphs into a more serious expression. “See mother to make sure. Okay?”

Your smile also fades into something softer as you nod your head in agreement. “Okay.”

[pascalssbabyy]

The Accidental Solution

Pairing: Jackson!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rating: 18+ Explicit

Word Count: 17.1k (wtf am I okay?!)

Summary: Joel accidentally walks in on you naked when you’re fresh out of the shower. The situation as you expected leaves questions in the air and Joel to avoid you as much as he can. That’s until you decide to take matters into your own hands.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, no use of Y/N, age gap (Joel is 52 but age of reader is not specified), friends to lovers, plot of how Joel and reader met, description of readers body but again not that specific, sub!Joel, insecure!Joel (he just needs some lovin), but also mean!Joel, Joel gets called a good boy (oops?), pet names, dirty talking, M!masturbation, Joel having filthy thoughts 💭, blowjob, fingering, P in V, unprotected sex (don’t be naughty!), creampie.

Okay listen, I don’t know how the hell this turned into a 17k fic but here we are 🤦🏻‍♀️ why do I have to be someone who has to write in so much detail (because shit this took me ages 😭) anyway… I hope enjoy 🤣 and let me know what you think! Thank you all for being so patient with me as I know it’s been a while! 🥹

Taglist: @harriedandharassed @mumma-moonchild @chyannealaniz @millercontracting 🤍

Warm water cascades down your bare back and shoulders as the heat begins to unravel all those aches and tight knots in your worn-out muscles. You can slowly feel your body letting loose from the long day you’ve just endured; the lengthy walks, the cold nights, the tense stretch felt in the soles of your feet swiftly easing from the water pooling on the shower floor. The steam starts to travel up, surrounding the enclosed walls and clearing up your sinuses. You can smell the freshness of your shampoo and conditioner, the floral scent giving you that comforting feeling of finally being back in the familiarity and safety of your own home. You lather all your products in between your fingers and palms, rubbing them deep into your scalp and across your body, your fingertips massaging the headache and ringing in your ears.

You’re happy to be home. Eyes observing the clock and knowing before your shift even started that patrol this time would be a long one; abruptly waking up at dawn to the repetitive sound of beeping coming from your alarm on your bedside table, tired eyes failing to adjust to the sun rising through the split of your curtains and fighting to pull yourself out of the warmth of your covers. Mornings were always a struggle for you. Attempting to get through your morning routine, having breakfast and quickly getting ready for the day. Your shift goes by smoothly which you’re thankful for, but once it’s over it seems to remind you that you’re returning home to another day gone so soon, your walk back home filled with empty streets and dark skies.

🍃🍃 A few months ago 🍃🍃

You knew Tommy was hesitant at first glance when you’d offered him an extra set of hands with patrol duty. His wide eyes and furrowed brows peering down at you, displaying nothing but a face full of determination and so much willingness. His reaction didn’t surprise you and never bothered you in the slightest, already expecting that certain response from people and knowing exactly why.

You were young; soft in personality and had a pure heart, always being able to see the good in all people. You weren’t someone who belonged within the dangers that surrounded the outskirts of Jackson, and it was rare for someone who’d been in a world that held endangerment and risk to still have that positive outlook on it. But that wasn’t all that you were. You were also devoted and strong-willed, knowledgeable of outside life and full of eagerness, so it didn’t take long to prove to Tommy that you were just what he needed to get the job done.

You were dedicated, fast on your feet and capable of doing and making any necessary decisions to help others you worked with. After a few shifts, you began to notice how the rest of the team started to warm up to you, considering you were still fairly new and just making your way around the ins and outs of the job. Apart from this, everyone who you worked with was kind, respectful and you were able to make a few friendships along the way with a different range of people.

That’s what you enjoyed about the job, how effortless it was for you to get on with the community, and how welcoming they were to any newcomer.

Of course you knew you’d come across certain situations that would have you questioning yourself; how could it be dealt with. How to get around it as efficiently and effectively as you could make it. You were ready for that moment to arise, but what you didn’t expect was that this was first coming your way in the shape of a man. Tommy’s older brother in fact.

And his name was Joel Miller.

You’d heard the name, the way it was whispered around town, eyes unable to look away when said person was nearby. Tommy had mentioned his brother a few times around you, whether it was in meetings or general conversations, and what you had gathered so far was that Joel had been new to Jackson for just a few weeks when he started patrolling, barely having time to settle down in the new environment and heading straight to protecting the people of the town. It didn’t surprise you that Joel was immediately giving himself a persona of negativity and dislike, being a hard man to please and someone who had no intention of getting to know people apart from the obvious; Tommy, Marie and Ellie. He was intimidating, vague and held a stern facial expression that had everyone stepping back.

You knew it was coming. Joel had made his way around certain shifts with different people who’d found it difficult to break him out of his hard, concealed character. So when Tommy mentioned that your next shift was with someone who you hadn’t yet worked with, it didn’t take you long to know exactly who that person was going to be.

Tommy meets up with you before your shift starts, expecting that if he somehow warns you about Joel first, it’ll make the situation less tense. “You see my brother…,” he lets out a deep sigh, “he’s…he’s a complicated man. He’s not one for talking or getting to know people.” You can see Tommy wince slightly at his own words, having a picture already drawn up in his head with how this’ll go.

“I just wanna try one shift with you. To see what he’s like.”

You weren’t someone to say no, conscious that Tommy was already having a hard time getting his brother to ease up to people. You give him a reassuring smile and nod at his request, and happy in yourself that you receive a smile back, his stance now not as tense and face softening at your reply.

Everyone you’d worked with so far had been fine, shifts running in order, so you thought surely he’s not that bad.

To your surprise, it’s worse than bad. It’s just unwelcoming.

The first time Tommy introduced Joel to you he didn’t even bother to shake your hand, small arm outstretched ready to finally meet the man whose name had been on your mind since you’d heard it. The way he’d take a glance at you and just grunt when you told him your name, with that simple look of unimpressed planted across his features. Joel knew he didn’t have to mention his own, certain that he was already known around the people of Jackson. What was even worse than his rude posture and not-so-open welcome was that he had very little vocabulary and a miner attitude in having any sort of conversation, just simply having no interest in others and just wanting to get on with things without distractions.

Even with his not-so-keen introduction, his ways of communicating should take you back, upset you in some way or maybe even annoy you. That’s what you expected from yourself but somehow it did the exact opposite. Yes, he was rude but you knew behind that harsh exterior held someone who’d just been through a lot, done things he knew were wrong but for reasons he knew deep down was right. His eyes held a lot of his true self. They were a dark brown colour but were so soft, eyes you could get lost in if you looked in them for too long. They were so different in comparison to how he showed his persona, how he stood his ground.

So when you’d mentioned to Tommy that you didn’t mind having more shifts with his brother he seemed taken aback. “You sure?” he says, tone high and dubious, “I don’t want you sayin’ that just cause of what is said—”

“Tommy…,“ you console him before he can get you rethinking your decision, giving him a light chuckle. “I’m sure. I’m more than happy to have him around more. Wasn’t as bad as I thought he’d be.”

You can see that Tommy’s grateful, going through certain shift plans with you and letting you know which ones you and Joel will be paired on together.

You can feel the butterflies flutter in your lower stomach, an unknown feeling tickling its way up your spine. Could it be nervousness? Maybe doubt? Or perhaps you’re feeling sceptical about your abilities to change the way Joel perceives you.

Or maybe, just maybe, deep within yourself, that feeling you felt was excitement.

🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃

You and Tommy had agreed on a few shifts a week working with his brother, just to see how you’d both get on with one another. Tommy demanded updates from you every time you got back from patrol and each time, the feedback became more positive; the shifts not being as awkward or dealing with Joel’s quiet moods, his negative attitude.

He starts to become more at ease with your presence. You begin to see more of what you knew he wanted people to see, to understand.

You liked how with each minor conversation you had with him they’d become longer, talking back and forth about everything and anything you could get out of him. His replies back now came from a place of interest, wanting to let out any built-up resentment or just wanting to talk about the little things.

Of course, he was adamant about you in the beginning, but what you began to realise was that Joel was someone who needed time and patience. Time to trust and accept you and others around him. That people weren’t there to be his enemy, they were there to show him that Jackson was good and that he was in a community that would keep him and Ellie safe.

You started to like having him around, warmth building in your chest when you’d look at the patrol board and see his name right next to yours, even when you knew already that you were on shift together. The more he opened himself up to you the more you craved his company. You’d never met anyone like him, so it didn’t seem to shock you that you’d started to see him in a different light.

It hadn’t taken long for your feelings to develop into a minor crush, subtly taking longer glances at him when he wasn’t looking, heart pumping out your chest when you’d make him smile or chuckle at something you said. You were aware that he wasn’t like this with many people, being so open the way he was, and the thought had you blushing.

You’d take time to admire all his frame; his wide shoulders, his broad arms hidden in his thick coat, mind picturing what he’d look like without any fabric covering his physique. Even in the cold weather, his skin was tanned in colour, his hands large and fingers thick. His hair was scattered in salt and pepper strands, with tight curls that rested atop his furry collar. You’d wonder what it’ll be like to run your hands through them, to even tug on them, him wincing at the pull as you cover your lips around his neck and jaw.

His nose framed his face, soft brown eyes and a scattering of wrinkles around his temples and forehead. Fuck he was attractive, and the in-depth staring started to become a continuous reminder that Joel was a man much older than you, which only made you like him that much more.

You struggled to conceal the hidden desire that shivered up your back when he told you his age, “uh…I’m 52. Been doin’ this for a long time… N’too damn long if y’ask me.” You give him a short and sweet reply, too afraid your voice would give you away with how badly it turned you on.

Fuck you definitely shouldn’t be attracted to someone twice your age.

It comes to into full effect when he starts calling you certain names; every once in a while, a darlin’ or sweetheart leaves his carefree lips when he asks you for a favour, or when he initiates a certain change of plan when necessary. The words glided off his southern tongue so smoothly, having to clench your thighs together to ease the ache you felt for him.

He had changed every single aspect of your thoughts. Wondering what he would be like if he’d give himself a chance to feel. To give himself a moment of vulnerability. Was it something that he’d even allow himself to have? To drop his guard down just a little and delve into that part of him that maybe he hadn’t felt in a long time.

🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃

Joel wasn’t someone for getting too close to people.

It had been that way for him for as long as he could remember, and he knew it was selfish, but that’s the way he wanted it.

And it was so easy for Joel, not to feel. To not be someone whose emotions got in the way of everything. To be a person who was closed off and shut down that part of himself that made him feel anything other than his own protection. This meant he’d never get hurt, even if it meant damaging people in the process.

It was until he’d become acquainted with you, he’d question everything he’d set his mind to.

🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃

Joel doesn’t remember the last time he’d felt so intimidated by someone. He was shocked at how quickly it had taken you to become confident around him straight from the get-go. You were keen to show him how knowledgeable you were, how you’d face any problem with intelligence and no trouble. And he hated to admit it, but he liked how ahead of the game you were, how you took everything on with attentiveness.

It had been a long time since Joel had met someone like you.

He’d never let you know this. Joel was too proud and stubborn to admit that you had challenged him first-hand and that you’d started to make him question his ability to be someone who’d work better on their own.

The more shifts the both of you were on together and being within each other’s company, Joel had noticed his shoulders weren’t as tense as they’d usually be. His body became less formal and opened up to your company and the warmth that radiated off of you. He liked how you brought out that side of him that he thought had disappeared. It was even rare that at certain points in the shifts your humour and wit would catch him, small and subtle chuckles escaping deep in his chest.

You had fire and you were headstrong, determined to get him to let go of that rough ego and just be himself around you, which Joel initially though he’d hate, but it didn’t take long for him to privately crave the attention you gave him.

🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃

A few months into patrolling, Tommy had set you and Joel up as official partners.

Your constructive feedback at the end of each shift had Tommy already making the clear decision to pair you both up permanently.

Even noticing himself how well you were getting on with his brother, and how you both thought it would be the best option for him. To stay with someone who he knew he got on with. To Joel’s surprise he didn’t mind, knowing that you worked well together and got on with the job quickly and efficiently.

Throughout the months of getting to know each other, the relationship between you two had developed into something much more than work colleagues and had eventually made its way out of patrol hours. On a whim, you’d asked Joel if he wanted to grab a drink with you after one shift you had together which was rougher than usual. You knew this was a big offer and Joel, as always seemed hesitant, but after a moment of silence, he accepted your invitation. Because fuck he could do with a drink right about now.

This then turned into a routine for the both of you. Meeting for a late night cap after your shifts were over and also in your free time, either having a few at the Tipsy Bison or at each others houses.

🍃🍃 Present Day 🍃🍃

This of course was no different tonight. Patrol running fondly and you both getting back to Jackson much earlier than anticipated.

Once you arrive back at the gates you look up towards Joel. “So…same tonight Joel? Wanna pop by mine and grab a drink if you’re free?” You secretly adored how Joel would react when you’d ask him to come over, still slightly unsure and not used to your kindness and simply wanting to be with him. While he stares down at you in thought, all you can think is please say yes, please say yes, please say yes. And after what feels like minutes have gone by, he gives you a gentle smile, “yeh sure darlin’. Just need to pop by mine n’ I’ll be over.”

You nod at him, grinning at his acceptance until eventually you part ways, rushing back home and hoping he’ll give you enough time to quickly freshen up until he comes round.

🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃

Joel gets to yours in no time at all, making his way up your porch and standing outside your front door. He knocks on your door a couple of times, ready to hear your small footsteps and see your wide smile welcoming him inside your home.

Whilst he continues to stand there, trying to wait patiently, you don’t answer. He waits a few more moments until knocking again and doing so much louder this time, but after another minute of waiting…you still haven’t answered.

He knows this isn’t like you; front door opening the second you hear his hard knocks echoing through the four walls of your front room, barely giving him enough time to prepare himself and ushering him inside with your open body language and sweet voice.

It makes Joel think that you’re somewhat excited that he’s here.

He isn’t worried, that’s what he wants himself to think and he knows he shouldn’t be, trusting you fully with how you carry your independence and welfare. The many times he’s been inside your home you’ve always reassured him that you don’t take longer routes back and that once your shifts are over, you’re making yourself straight home.

But yet why does his chest suddenly feel slightly heavier? Why does his throat feel tight and restricted? You would have got home by now, so why aren’t you here? He’d never doubt you by all means, but right now he needs to know if you’re safe.

So he thinks fuck it, and lets himself inside.

You two had become close enough now that he’d know you wouldn’t mind if he walked into your house on his own accord, especially with the unknown certainty of your wellbeing in his thoughts and it becoming his main concern.

He pulls down the door knob, initially thinking to himself, please be unlocked, and thankfully when it is, he lets himself inside. Firstly he checks the front room and kitchen, which are both encased in darkness, softly being lit by the moonlight sliding through the sheer curtains hanging on your window rods. He lets out a frustrated sigh, you’re nowhere to be seen.

He calls your name, followed by a darlin’, y’here? Again, no answer. Once both rooms are looked over he’s making his way upstairs, his large boots creaking across each step, careful not to trip over himself. He notices that the first door which he suspects is your bedroom is halfway open, the absence of light clouding the room and just the gleam from the landing light outside dimly illuminating the space. He gently opens the door and like the others, the rooms are empty. Once he’s about to make his way back downstairs, you waltz out the bathroom.

You were naked. Towel in both hands and currently drying the ends of your hair, with soft hums of a song vibrating along your sealed lips and eyes closed. Mind oblivious to Joel's now wandering gaze.

Joel couldn’t move, his body frozen and lascivious eyes glancing down at every inch of your bare skin that was visible to him.

Your hair was drenched with droplets of water falling seamlessly onto your shoulders and goosebumps covered the skin of your arms from the abrupt coolness that hit your body once you walked out of the warm and steamed-covered bathroom.

Your breasts were fully in view, the shape of them accentuating your waist and your nipples hard from the cold temperature change.

It was like Joel’s life had instantaneously gone in slow motion, and fuck he was so grateful for it. His eyes mapped out every line and curve of your smooth skin, how the water covered you and cascaded down your body making you glisten in the dim light.

His knees buckle under him when his eyes land in between your legs, his vision getting a subtle glimpse of your sex.

He can feel his cock growing for you, becoming hard and twitching with need. He has no control over it, and he knew if he looked down now there’d be an evident tent expanding in the thickness of his denim jeans.

Your eyes abruptly open when you feel a radiation of heat in front of you, your throat letting out a surprised yelp. Your limbs act quickly, throwing the towel across your bare chest so it covers your upper body and ends just above your knees, swiftly giving yourself some dignity.

It takes a moment for you to contemplate what’s happening in such a quick amount of time, and once you realise it’s Joel who’s stood in front of you, seeing you naked and who’s in such close proximity to you, you jump at the act.

“Fuck Joel!” You squeal in surprise.

Those two words spring Joel into action. Who the fuck does he think he is? He knew he was expected here but never like this. You must think he’s a creep, wandering into your house to catch you so exposed and open, and all for him, just for his own personal pleasure.

He brings his large hands up to his face, palms covering his now reddish features and blocking all images of you out of his mind. His voice gets stuck and his words stutter in his chest, all thoughts fogged and glazed over, hoping anything will come to mind as to what he can do to explain himself.

Your hands clutch your chest tightly, your touch easing the thumping of your heart. “Jesus Christ Joel…,” you chuckle awkwardly, “you scared the shit out of me.”

He looks down at your stairs, body retreating to provide you with some comfort and to insinuate that he’s not trying to make you feel uncomfortable.

“F-fuck darlin’, I—shit, I’m sorry,” the words fall quickly off his lips in hasted rambles, voice attempting to explain why he’s put you in this situation. “Y-you weren’t answering the door I thought—fuck I don’t know what I was thinkin’—I thought somethin’…”

The more he hears the miserable attempt in his tone, he knows there are no words that’ll make this circumstance any better, so he comes up with the next best solution.

“M’gonna go. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

Before you can help relax his nerves, his feet are moving faster than his thoughts, throwing all his weight down each step of your stairs and straight to the door, not even daring to look back, dreading to see that look of shock and how flushed your face had become from his sudden presence. He needed to get out and get out quickly, slamming your front door firmly shut and leaving you in silence.

The loud bang causes your whole body to flinch, shoulders and face wincing inwards from the harsh sound.

You never expected this to be the way it would go. Bluntly coming face to face with the man who’s been lingering on your thoughts right in front of you, him now seeing every part of you, slowly being uncovered by his lengthy stare.

His face was in full shock, eyes wide and mouth fully agape, all of his warm colour being ripped away from his features, but his feelings kept unrecognisable as he eyed your body up and down.

You cannot help but think to yourself; Why did it make you feel so good, seeing him become so shy and flustered in comparison to his hard and demanding nature? Knowing that you were the one who pulled his guard down. Seeing that undisclosed side of him that you’d never get a chance to see.

You begin to wonder what he’d thought. Did he like what he saw? Would he think about you when he’d return home? What could’ve possibly happened if he hadn’t scurried off when he did? The different scenarios cause your heart to race again, a toying smile caressing its way across your face.

But then maybe his reaction was out of pure disbelief, not wanting to present you with the thought that he was giving you the wrong impression. False hope. And that it was just a simple mistake and he’d never want it mentioned again.

You don’t move from your spot on the landing, feet concreted to the ground and mind puzzled, racing with too many questions that you know can’t yet be answered.

So for right now, all you know is that this is going to be something that could possibly change your relationship with Joel, either for the better or for the worse.

And you beg it’s the first option.

🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃

Joel feels humiliated. He feels ashamed. He knows he’ll never be able to come back from this, having possibly ruined the relationship that he knew you had ought to seek out of him for so long. That moment his eyes had finally seen you so intimately he knew his current feelings for you were now out of his control, and that he would never be able to keep his thoughts about you hidden, like he had been doing pretty much since he had got to know you.

It’s become too much for him to bear. What the fuck is he going to do. He’s completely embarrassed of himself and too much of a coward to face you. He needs time away from you, to alleviate the stress he’d put on himself.

So he decides to change his routine altogether so he can avoid you as much as he can. To avoid the crumbling mess that he’s made. But no matter how many times he tries to sidestep the obstacles of that sudden consequence. He sees you everywhere.

Whether it’s in the mornings. Just when you were about to start your shift with whoever it was you were now working with, fuck he wanted it to be him. Or either at the canteen eating your breakfast or through the frosted window of the Tipsy Bison, clutching a drink in hand, with just an empty stool and silence beside you to keep you company.

He feels terrible, fully conscious of your confusion as to why he’s pushing himself away from you, leaving you with numerous questions in the thickened air that now surrounds the two of you, and Joel having no intention of answering them.

It had been a long time since Joel had allowed himself to feel or do anything other than protect himself and others, and he was fucking terrified that out of all the people he had been acquainted with throughout the years that it was you that had these unknown feelings of wishing and wanting someone resurfacing. Even during and before Tess, Joel had never been interested in those sorts of relationships, until now with you.

Joel had lost a lot of people he’d put his care and trust into, and every single time that affliction happened it crushed him down even further than the last.

He thought that maybe if he’d push you away intentionally, he wouldn’t have to deal with losing you all together.

He knew that empty void inside could easily be filled if he allowed himself to relish in the feelings he felt for you, and deep down he wanted nothing more than to show it to you, but his mind and body had been deprived of it for so long he’d simply forgotten how to.

How could he just become so honest and vulnerable in such a short space of time, and with someone he’d only known for a couple of months, even if your relationship had developed quicker than any other he’d had? How can he be with you in such an intimate way and come full face to face with the truth?

Because fuck, it had been way too long since Joel had given another woman pleasure.

He knew it was wrong. The wanting. The craving he felt for you. And you were so much younger than him it made his chest hurt. He knew what people would say if they found out, Joel being involved with a much younger girl. He cared more about what people thought of him than his own and it pushed his feelings down even further.

You had been so soft and sweet and kind to him when all he wanted to do at the start was ignore you altogether. He was so impolite when he barely introduced himself to you, and the fact you had swallowed down the rudeness of his words with a smile, he knew you’d forever change him.

He wanted you so bad, and it felt like a huge weight off his shoulders once he’d finally admitted it to himself. But it wasn’t just your beauty that had him questioning his whole life’s purpose and what he believed he wanted. It was how confident you were, and the way that confidence radiated off you. How you’d persevere when people or life threw obstacles at you. And you were so fucking welcoming to everyone that added to it.

Just seeing you for all you were, so supple and bare and open to his gaze just moments ago was just the last straw for him to cave in and just accept his feelings.

He knows it’s bad but there’s not one ounce of him that feels any regret. The constant pondering of what you’d look like finally coming to light, and it is better than anything that he’d pictured.

🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃

The moment his feet make their way through his front door he’s rushing his body through the house and straight up the stairs, not even bothering to switch on any of the lights or even question if Ellie was home. Once he’s upstairs he takes himself into the bathroom and turns the shower on so cold water runs out of the fossil. His skin feels hot to the touch, burning sweat coating his forehead and clothes suffocating him as he frantically shreds the fabric that clings tightly to him.

He hisses through his teeth, the cold water falling onto his bare back and shoulders, trickling down his body and cooling his heated condition. His breathing is laboured, chest rising and falling in quick bursts while he attempts to calm himself.

He pushes his body forward, eyes meeting the floor and preparing himself for the crisp temperature as the water pours onto his hair, the wet strands dropping in front of his face as he allows his head to fall in defeat.

He’s hard. His cock standing strong in between his thighs and aching. His tip was red in desperation, with that tight coil of pressure rising in his low abdomen.

He shouldn’t. But his minds to overpowered with the need to come he’s pretty sure that if he doesn’t, he might pass out.

A low grunt rattles in his chest when his shaky hand wraps around his shaft, stomach muscles clenching and legs quivering with need.

He can’t take it slow, fucking his hand at a vigorous pace and already feeling his peak creep its way up to the surface. His head hangs back over his shoulders, eyes falling shut and small, deprived moans leaving his lips.

His tip is so sensitive he can feel it everywhere and all over his body, pre-come pooling at his slit and covering his fingers as he uses his other hand to grip the shower wall in front of him.

The moment his vision is blurred and his mind explores all of his demands, all he can see is you. The image of you carefully opening the shower curtain, your body exposed and knees falling onto the shower floor as you take his cock into your mouth, savouring the salty flavour and pushing him to the back of your throat.

He thinks about how you’d look; mouth so small compared to his thick cock and using your hands to wrap what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, wetting every inch of him with your saliva, and swallowing his release down with that sweet smile you curse him with.

He’s going to come, and it’s happening painfully quickly. Your appearance bringing him so so close to his orgasm that it’s like he has no control of his own body, yourself having full dominance over him and you weren’t even there.

He stutters over his words, those exact words he wishes he could really say to you, “fuck darlin’ that’s it. You’re—shit y’gonna m-make me—.”

He inhales in a sharp breath and his body eventually lets go, his cock left without release for too long as his hand continues to tug on his thickness in irregular and faltered motions, pleasure rippling through his whole body like a tidal wave.

His release runs down his fingers and spurts on the tile wall. And there’s so much of it. His cock is pulling so much neglect from him that his other hand has to grab into the shower curtain to hold himself up.

His mind races through the thoughts of how your mouth or cunt would feel in comparison to his hand. The way you’d swallow all of him down your throat, opening your mouth to show him exactly how good you were for him, mouth all empty and tongue licking your lips to taste all of his come. And fuck he knows you’d be so tight; so warm and soft as he’d fill you with all of him, your eyebrows knitting together in slight discomfort from the stretch. He’d know you’d take him so well, begging him to fuck you like he knows you truly deserve.

He freshens himself up and makes his way into bed, hoping that sleep will give him some sort of a stress-free night, and to mostly block out the image of you. Joel feels that regret instantly, knowing too well that he shouldn’t have let his body take over him the way it did.

Joel already knew it was going to be a long night.

🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃

Joel avoids you like the plague.

His way of steering himself away from you has gotten so bad that he’s asked for his patrol shifts to be with other people, and to be cut to shorter hours to avoid you completely. His reasons are that he wants to try again with previous partners, saying that he was harsh with them before and wants to do better. Or he’s too occupied with things at home and with Ellie. You didn’t even hear this from Joel himself, Tommy confessing it to you one morning when your patrol shift was about to start.

Whether it be in the early mornings at the canteen or weekly patrol meetings; he’d be up and off the moment you’re entering the building, chair tucked under the table and the entrance door opening and closing before you can get the chance to scan him out from the crowd. He’d even begun to skip his daily drink at the Tipsy Bison, which he never missed out on. He’d just make his way back as soon as his shifts were over, muttering quiet goodbyes and marching his way down the street and straight home.

His absence makes your heartbreak. Did he think the situation was that bad? Was he that embarrassed by it that he’d made the decision to avoid you forever? It wasn’t you that had made the situation awkward and it didn’t have to be. You thought he’d come up to you by now, but yet still after the two-week mark, you hadn’t spoken one word to one another.

You want to scream till your voice aches, till that hurt in your throat replaces the other pain felt low in your chest. You want to let out that built-up frustration that had begun to boil over, to talk to someone who could easily give you hope about the whole situation.

And that one person who you knew could help, didn’t want to talk to you.

You need answers and you know you have to talk to Joel eventually, even if he didn’t want to. This circumstance can’t go on for much longer and the both of you know it. So if it has to be you to initiate it first. Then so be it.

You don’t know what suddenly gives you that burst of energy and confidence to confront him, but your body’s moving before your mind can even process where it’s going.

🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃

It’s late. But not too late at night so you know Joel will still be up and that you won’t be disrupting him. Once you freshen up after your patrol shift you’re making your way to his house, the walk from your home not being too far from his which you’re thankful for. Your mind attempts to drift elsewhere; analysing other things as you know if you reflect for too long about the possible outcomes, your mind will start to counter multiple reasons as to why this is indefinitely a bad idea.

But then was it such a terrible idea? The both of you were grown adults and people who were now close enough to be able to talk to one another and to have a reasonable conversation.

Without having any opportunity to regret your decision and give yourself more time to back out, you’re standing right in front of his porch, feet walking up the few steps and hand now inches away from knocking on his front door. You take a final deep breath in through your nose and exhale out your mouth, giving a few gentle knocks as you wait for Joel to open.

How long have you been standing here? Would he even answer knowing it was you who was waiting nervously behind the door? Fuck, maybe he was asleep. Yeah, he’s definitely ignoring—

Your ears pick up that sound. Those familiar boots treading across old oak flooring, getting louder and more prominent with each step until finally the door opens and a tall frame stands in the doorway.

Well you think…this is it.

“Hey Joel…” your voice is quiet and just slightly above a whisper, like your throats pushing it straight back down, too anxious to speak as you take all of him in.

He looks tired, his hair fuzzy and sticking up in different directions. Fuck maybe he was sleeping. His beard hasn’t been trimmed, but the stubble brings out the sharpness of his jaw. He’s wearing a checkered flannel, a dark forest green with burgundy red crossed stripes, the fabric buttoned up only halfway showing the bare tanned skin of his chest underneath it. Your eyes drop down to the sight of his chest and quickly rise back up to his face, heart pounding and mind racing with all the thoughts of what you’d rather want to be doing to him at this defining moment.

His face drops when he sees you, and fuck it hurts to see it. His stare wanders around you like he’s lost. You can see that distinct look in his eye, like his mind playing tricks on him, and dumbfounded as to why you were here on his porch so late at night, with that look of distress on your face and in need of answers.

“Uh, hey…”, he runs his hand through his hair. An act he hopes would proceed as confidence, but he’s worried it’s showing every ounce of apprehension running through him, “what are y’doin—“

You beat him before he can finish his sentence. “D’you mind if I come in? I thought we could talk.”

Joel’s said no plenty of times, and it’s such an easy word for him to say. Mostly all of his life he’s been rejecting people and saying that one term more than he could count. But with you, no doesn’t exist in his vocabulary, “yeh—,” he coughs out the strain in his voice, “uh yeh. Sure darlin’.” He moves his frame to the side, “come in.”

You smile at him before making your way past him and into his home. And once you step in, the side of your arm subtly grazes his front, your body trying to abstain from his touch. The hold he has on you and he doesn’t even know it. Feeling him so close for just a second has your mind going dizzy, his body giving off so much warmth that has your cheeks heating up.

You make your way inside so you’re now standing in the middle of his front room. And once you’re inside…it feels weird. You’ve been in his house plenty of times, but in this circumstance, it feels different to you. Like you’re seeing it from another perspective. The whole room feels bigger somehow, the décor and frames covering the old brick feeling somewhat unfamiliar and unrecognisable as you look around, hoping that the walls surrounding you will give you some sort of consolation.

Outside his house you felt confident to a certain degree, preparing yourself to get straight to the point but right now, your mind conjures through all the different scenarios that could possibly happen.

You hear the click of his door shutting, his frame coming into view as he just stands there and watches you watch him. It’s awkward, hardly having talked or even looked at one another for weeks. You try and break the silence. “I hope I didn’t wake you. I thought I’d pop by as I thought you’d still be up.”

His voice is quiet, “no you didn’t wake me. Just didn’t expect to see you that’s all.”

Of course he didn’t expect you, he’s been avoiding you as much as he could for the past couple weeks.

The silence is loud, bouncing off the walls and deafening. You can just about hear the voice in your head as it tells you to leave. It’s saying yes, yes this is a terrible idea and why did you come? He doesn’t want to see you. His feet can only just be picked up over the roaring in your ears as his boots make contact with the floor, his body moving only a few steps in.

He doesn’t look you in the eyes, “So…everythin’ alright?”

He has no reason as to why he’s said it, and he regrets it the second it leaves his lips, already knowing that everything’s not alright. That he’s aware of the suffering he’s put you through. How he’s constantly and intentionally ignored you for as long as he could, how he’s escaped all possible interactions with you.

You give him a blank stare, eyes boring into his faltering stance, “Uh...I don’t know Joel,” you cross both arms over your chest, “why don’t y’ask me.”

You were getting straight to the point, your courage outweighing his without question, something that he’d already anticipated the moment he’d see you again.

But yet, that’s what he loved about you. How you weren’t afraid just to throw yourself into situations that could become awkward, how self-assured you were to confront him about something he knew was out of his depth, and those lingering unknowns with what the consequences would entail.

But this doesn’t stop Joel from becoming flustered by your words, his stare firmly locked down at the floor, voice flat and one tone, “don’t know what y’mean.”

That makes you chuckle, his vague response causing the air in your lungs to contract, annoyance clearly being shown in your pitch, “oh Joel please. You don’t speak to me anymore and apparently have no fucking time for me. You’ve been ignoring me for weeks and to even swap partners and cut your shifts short just because you want to avoid this. To avoid what’s clearly been bothering you.”

He can hear as each word falls from your lips the substantial burden he’s placed on you. And he feels awful for it. He never wanted it to go this way, him leaving you with nothing but his neglect on your side of things and not giving himself the chance to act on what he’s really been feeling.

The look of bewilderment is held strongly on his face, brows furrowed and mouth firmly fixed straight, blocking anything he might want to say. His posture remains restricted, bend forwards to hide himself from his own mistakes.

“I just…,” you let out an exhausted huff, “I don’t know what to do. What’s been going on with you lately? Why won’t you just talk to me. You’ve been so distant with me and I want to know why.”

He’s still stood near the door way. Hands down and glued firmly on his sides. He’s agitated, not having any ounce of preparation for your statement, his body being thrown into hot flames without hesitation.

He shrugs his shoulders, “s’nothing. Don’t wanna talk about it.”

You burst. “Bullshit Joel. I know it’s mostly because you walked in on me that one night. Because if so. I don’t see why it’s such a big deal. It was a simple mistake.”

His voice becomes much louder, and it surprises you. “What do you want me to say? Huh? Yes that’s the reason,” Joel now makes his way into the room, marching over in your direction, “and yes it’s a big fucking deal, okay?”

His statement has you easing, finally noticing that you’re getting somewhere with him. You want him to understand that even though his reaction came out of pure astonishment and humility, he didn’t have to act this way, even if you liked that he saw.

You attempt to calm him, “it doesn’t have to be Joel. Why can’t we just go back to—“

“Because I can’t get the image of you out of my god damn head. The way you looked I can’t…,” he eventually sighs in defeat, “I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s there every time I see you, even when I try n’avoid you you’re still in my head. It’s there when I close my fuckin’ eyes a night.”

You look up at his face, your expression is wide and body shaking with adrenaline. He’s frantically staring at you now, in desperate need for you to say anything as to why he knows this affair between you both is a bad idea.

“Joel—“ you say in condolence.

“I shouldn’t…fuck I shouldn’t. I know it’s bad and I know I shouldn’t be thinkin’ about you like that.” He runs his hands across his face. “It’s wrong darlin’—so wrong.”

It’s all starting to make sense, the missing pieces connecting and creating a full picture. The realisation hits you fill force; the reason as to why he’s been avoiding you, why he’s cutting down his hours and how he’s swapped his shifts around, all because his thoughts about you since that moment you both shared have had him questioning his feelings for you.

And that he liked what he saw.

Now that you’ve recognised his emotions, it strings your own into action. Gently moving yourself closer to him, taking small steps forward and watching for any doubt in his eyes, your words simple and hushed. “Joel. It’s not wrong. It’s okay.”

His shoulders stiffen when he catches how close you’ve gotten to him. He knows if you come close enough, it’ll have him pushing all reasoning out the way. He sees the way your body’s moving so intently, walking so slowly to him, his head already shaking in disagreement.

“I’ve wanted to talk about it…” his eyes visibly bearing the shame he’s felt in himself since he’d slammed your front door shut, “n’ I feel so fuckin’ bad for how I’ve been treating you. I jus’ didn’t know what to say or do to explain myself.”

Joel has your face softening as he tries to explain to you why he’s acted the way he has. Being too ashamed in himself to confront you about his reaction on that night, and how negatively his actions were after it.

You’re still making your way towards him, his words only spurring your movements on with nervous excitement building in your stomach. His eyes are fixated on your face, seeing nothing but acceptance and understanding washed over your facial features. And it makes his palms sweat, “sweetheart I—.”

“Joel just listen to me. If you’d had just talked to me, we wouldn’t be in this situation. We’re both close enough now that we should feel like we can talk to one another, and whatever you’ve been feeling for me I’ve also been feeling for you. And if I’m being the honest one now, I’ve felt this way about you for a while. Fucking hell Joel if it’s taken us this long to admit it, I’m glad you saw me like that.”

He backs away slightly, pulling himself from the magnet that’s forcing you so close to him. The pressure that surrounds him is suffocating, the tension in the room beginning to thicken. “I shouldn’t of— sweetheart it ain’t right. This, I can’t… “

He wants to give in, and he can tell that you can see it in him too, his body language yielding into you too easily. He needs to finally feel something he’s missed out on for so long, and fuck he wants that with you. It’s right here in front of him as your words and gaze initiate it, but now it’s in his grasps, his mind can’t seem to comprehend it.

The two of you are that close now he can feel the heat emitting off your body. But he can also sense that your still sceptical, not moving too close where you’d break the revealing traction that’s growing between the both of you. You look into his eyes, watching him earnestly. “And why not Joel? What’s stopping us from doing what we both know we’ve wanted for so long?”

And the fact is, there’s absolutely nothing. Not one single thing Joel can muster up or give any reason as to why he shouldn’t stop himself from having you, to take you right here and right now.

So he thinks of one pathetic excuse, and his face grimaces. “I’m a lot older than you sweetheart…”

His justification makes the corners of your mouth curve upwards. If only he knew. “You think I care about that? Joel there’s so much more you need to be worrying about these days. We’re living in an apocalypse for fuck sake. Your age has never been a bother for me.” Your eyes fall down to his mouth. “I actually like that you’re older. I like it a lot.”

A haltered exhale flows from his lips. All he can see is the pure want in your eyes, pupils dilated and eyelashes fluttering. He can feel the desire pouring out of you and drenching his skin, affecting him more than he thought it would.

He knows the more you stare at him the way that you are, with that look of just surrender, Joel. I want you as much as you want me, he’ll do anything you want, no matter what the price may entail.

You gently place both of your hands onto his firm chest, but not too forcefully, hoping the touch would be just enough to ease him into you. You can feel the beating of his heart hitting the skin of your palms as his chest palpitates wildly. And that’s when you try and relax him, your hands moving up and down to inspect the newly felt part of him. You dig the tip of your fingers into his muscles to help relieve his rigid stance against you.

“Joel—,” his name falls so cautiously from your lips, so indifferent to how you usually say it. As this time it’s said with lust drooling off every letter. This moment has been replayed over and over in your thoughts too many times; how he’d feel so close to you, how his body would tower above you, how he’d gaze at you with need in his eyes, his mouth leaning in close to yours.

Your hands follow further up his chest and onto his shoulders, pulling at the neck of his collar so your hold makes contact with his bare skin, making more of his tanned chest visible to you.

You voice follows up his upper body, “I want this, and I know you do too. So don’t be nervous with me. Let me take care of you Joel...”

You step a little further in, his body as near as it can get and now brushing your front. Your hands stay where they are, your head falling back so you can see his face, your doe eyes peering into his.

“Please. Let me show you how much I want you.”

He doesn’t say anything, eyes locked on the shape of your lips and arms still placed at his sides. His form however leans into you voluntarily, begging him to just simply give in. His backs curved over, face almost level with yours as he waits patiently for whatever you want to do to him. You pull down on his shoulders just a little more and stand on your tip toes, luring his lips closer to yours.

You give a faint kiss to his mouth, just so subtly and quickly that he doesn’t have the time to react. His moustache tickles your top lip, and the sensation has your mouth quivering. You move your lips to the corner of his mouth, kissing him there once and then kissing his cheekbone, pouring every ounce of appreciation you have for him onto his skin. He breaths heavily against your face, his breathing low and eyes falling shut.

It’s his turn now, and you can slowly feel him returning the affection. With every graze of your mouth on his you can see the affect it has. Your body waits in anticipation, waiting for him to wrap his arms around you tightly, to squeeze and grip as much of you as he can.

You place another light peck on his lips, your mouth now hovering over his, the both of your faces only millimetres away from each other as your voice whispers the honest truth.

“I really want you Joel.”

His body shakes, tongue already salivating just from the slight taste of your lips on his mouth, so sweet as he finally gets a tease of how you feel. His arms that have been secured straight on his sides are reaching out to your safety, his embrace wrapping around your back, holding you close.

His eyes open so faintly, glancing down at where the two of you are lightly attached. And you’re so close. He can smell the freshness of your shampoo, he can feel your hands caressing his muscles, your needy touches igniting that fire inside of him. Your eyes tell him everything; that once hidden stare saying please Joel. Give in. Let me show you what you need.

He needs you, and he wants you to show him exactly what you want to give him. So he mumbles a low and greedy ‘fuck’ before his mouth pushes strongly towards yours.

Once Joel moves in the rest of the way, you allow him more of your body to touch, arms wrapping round his neck and pulling his mouth down harder onto yours, small fingers threading though the soft curls on the nape of his neck.

When you brush your tongue across his lips he’s easily giving you access, opening his mouth wide as the both of you savour the taste of each other. A satisfied hum leaves your mouth and travels straight into his, your tongues dancing with one another.

His hold on you can’t let go, hands lifting up and grasping hard onto the back of your neck and knotting his fingers in your hair, growling in fervor as he continues to explore the inside of your mouth.

Your body contorts so effortlessly into his, moulding in shape as he bends forward to push himself so boldly into you, your spine curving backwards with the way he’s gripping you.

But you pull him back way too soon for his liking. He pinches your skin and prepares himself when he notices your feet are moving him backwards, his hands clinging onto you in until he feels the back of his knees hit the corner of the couch.

His whole body drops onto the sofa, the touch of your mouth and hands leaving complete numbness on his skin that he misses instantly. He holds onto the cushion and arm rest, knuckles turning white from the clench as he just watches you stand there, bearing down at him, with a gentle smile plastered across your face.

It feels so overwhelming. Seeing him like this. Having known Joel for as long as you have it hadn’t taken you long to uncover that cynical persona he’d put out for himself. Joel was strong. Joel was a man of integrity and leadership, so watching him melt into the palm of your hands has your insides tingling with control.

His eyes are steamed over and his mouths marginally open while he takes all of you in. You lean your body forward as your hands land on his chest, putting most of your weight on him to make yourself comfortable, your knees being placed on the sides of his legs and lowering yourself down on him.

Fuck he knows there’s no going back from here, now that you’re sitting on his lap, sighing in fulfilment when you drop yourself down on his thick thighs.

He knows you can feel his hard on, his cock becoming needful the moment your lips touched his. And he can’t help but feel embarrassed by it, how easy it’s been for you to have him right there, his body quickly responding to your hands on him.

You trace patterns on his arms, fingers following the creases of his flannel and hands moving up to his shoulders. His atmosphere’s hot and heavy underneath you, the trust in his own actions buried beneath him while he looks at all of you in complete awe.

You slot your hips more into him so they’re flushed up and close to his groin. Yep, you can definitely feel his cock now. You moan his name and your voice comes out strong, much more pronounced than he knows his will be. “Fuck Joel. You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted you like this.”

Joel bites back the desperation that pressurises the back of his throat, “christ sweetheart,” his shock is followed by a harsh swallow, “you can’t say that to me’.”

Your words have power over him, and you love it. You lean your lips down to the side of his face, mouth inches away from his ear as his stubble tickles the side of your face. “Why not Joel? Don’t you wanna hear how badly I’ve wanted you.”

He doesn’t say anything whilst you continue to spur him on, your kisses travelling down his jaw and neck as his pulse rapidly beats against your mouth. You give a lingering kiss on his sweet spot, finding that place that has him shuddering under you.

He’s quiet, and you feel like you’re back at square one with him, hands not touching you and his words have disappeared. You’re now contemplating your own beliefs, his silence starting to come off as unsureness, mind fixated on too many things at once.

You try and make him feel less tense, “hey…” you brush the strand of hair that’s fallen in front of his face, also lifting his chin up to look you in the eyes, “talk to me Joel.”

Depending on who he’s with, Joel has always been a man of very few words, having never found the time or place to be so talkative or to make general conversation. But the situation you’ve put yourself in with him, silence is the last thing you want him to be.

You want him so much, but you can’t let your pure want overcome the circumstance too much, needing him to express that he’s wanted what’s about to happen as much as you have.

His voice is hesitant, “it’s jus’… y’sure? Y’sure you want to do this with me?”

“Yes,” the answer leaves your mouth in a instant, as it holds so much certainty in it and so much truth. “I’m sure Joel. Since the moment I met you I knew, you’re the only one I wanna do this with.”

This isn’t like him; his easy comebacks, his sarcastic jokes. You wonder where has that Joel gone? Why is he so concerned about you. You’re throwing yourself at him and he’s yet to catch you. It has your mind twisting and turning until…your eyebrows droop in, mind deciphering in understanding.

“It’s been a long time since you’ve been taken care of. Hasn’t it Joel.”

He’s motionless, jaw firmly closed and hands still resting on the sofa, his touch only inches away from your thighs. “Answer me Joel,” you say in solace.

“Yes…,” he chokes out, fuck he’s feels stupid, eyes closing in complete surrender and voice trembling with how easily you’ve read him.

He expects you to laugh at him. To humiliate him. Tell him how can he be so weak with you when all he’s ever known is the hard life that’s been full of danger that lurks around each corner. How can this world that he’s had to adapt to pull such a doubtful response out of him.

But instead, you caress the stubble on his jaw in sympathy, and his head follows suit. You hold his face in the palm of your hands, your voice faint and warm. “Poor Joel. It’s been a while since you’ve had someone want you like I do. Give you pleasure like I do. Someone who’s treated you right.”

He needed to hear you say that. Fuck he does want it, he wants to finally be the one who stands back and lets someone take over. And he wants it more than anything to be you to give it to him.

You clock your head to the side, “is that what you need Joel? Need me to show you how good I can make you feel? To show you what you’ve been missing out on?”

He nods his head embarrassingly.

Now you’ve got him. All he needed was time and patience, and your reassurance to get him there. You bring your thumb up and drag it across his bottom lip, your tone dropping an octave, “say it Joel. You don’t need to hide from me. I need to hear y’say it.”

He inhales in through his nose, praying to god that he can summon up the words to tell you exactly what he desires, “please darlin’. I need you—it’s been so long. Fuck I want you.”

You can feel your arousal seeping into your underwear from his pleas, his lack of sexual attention thoroughly soaking the material.

You rub your clothed core onto the tent in his jeans, moaning as his hard cock grazes your throbbing clit. A drawn out mmm fills the space between you, your tone of voice seductive, “good boy Joel.”

His groan pulls deep within his chest, he likes that. He likes how you praise him when he’s done something right, when he’s been good, when he’s done exactly what you wanted him to do.

His reaction has you biting your lip, “you like that don’t you Joel. Y’gonna be good for me? Gonna let me do what I want with you?”

His eyelids are half open. Yes he thinks, yes I’ll be the best for you. You can do absolutely anything you want to me and I’ll let you do it.

His response is clingy, “yes. Fuck. Yes I’ll be good f’you.”

You smile at him, giving him a rewarding kiss on the lips. But before he can deepen it you pull back, Joel pouting at the coldness your mouth has left on him. You lower your gaze onto the fully grown bulge in his jeans, “you wanna know what I’ve thought about?”

He’s allowing you to say what you’re about to say without actually telling you to. Excepting that his body’s lost all power, your weight on him making him lightheaded, his mind becoming intoxicated.

“I’ve imagined what these big hands would feel like on my skin,” you articulate, taking ahold and tracing your fingers lightly across his wrists and over his calloused palms, using him however you please. You inspect them, noticing that his fingers are hard in texture, rough to touch but the rest of him is soft.

“I’ve pictured your fingers across my cheeks…” you use his knuckle to soothe your cheek, “and how they’d feel on my lips…,” and then bringing them down to your lips, “how easily they’d cover my breasts.”

You can hear the air falter in his throat, face locked on his hands that you’re using. You allow his hold to drop down your neck and lower to your chest, staying there for just a second until you lead them further up and back to your lips. “I’ve made myself come so many times with how these thick fingers would fill me up. Fuck Joel, I know they’d stretch me out real nice.”

Well shit.

Your smirk against his fingers, “You want that, don’t you? Want to feel how I’d struggle to take your fingers? How I’d come all over them. Preparing myself so it’ll be easier for me to take your cock afterwards.”

Joel feels like he could come just from your words alone. Every single syllable was exactly what he’d pictured in his head. He lets out a weak huff, “christ sweetheart. Fuck let me do that. You can use my fingers. Wanna feel you come on them—please.”

“You’ll have that soon Joel,” you coo, “ just let me have my fun first.”

You remove yourself just as he is about to ask you what you mean, standing back on both feet while he looks above you. His hands again fall onto his sides, knees bouncing in anticipation.

You remove your top, inching the fabric above your head and throwing it somewhere on the floor behind you. You give him a lascivious smile before your hands make their way behind you and unclasp your bra, your breast now visible and accessible from their confines, and to Joel’s wide stare.

Just as he was about to usher you back onto him with his grabby hands, you’re unbuttoning your jeans, pulling the denim down your legs and leaving you in just your underwear. You waste no time, hooking your fingers into the thin material and sliding the final piece of clothing off your skin, showing all of yourself once again to Joel.

And it all floods back to him. As you had never left, it’s more detailed now than hurried and rushed as it was weeks before. He remembers how silky your skin looked, how your breasts shaped your frame, your nipples hard and perky from the cold air. How your body held this natural glow, beaming from the moonlight casting through his window.

He can see your arousal coat the insides of your thighs, and fuck, he’s a goner. He wants to lean forward and spread your wet folds and delve his mouth and tongue into your sweet cunt. He wants to devour you and make you come all over his face, to use him as you ride out your orgasm.

But you do the exact opposite. Instead of settling yourself back onto his clothed thighs, you drop yourself onto your knees, reaching both hands out and dragging them up and down his legs, caressing the muscles as you watch his thighs twitch.

You call out his name. “Joel?”

He stutters back. “Y-yeah?”

Your one hand travels up and cups his thickness, making his hips buckle. Fuck he looks big, and he feels big, the rough outline of his cock being shaped by the tight material that hugs him. You lick your lips and your mouth becomes hungry, yearning in need to be filled.

“Can I suck your cock?”

His head slacks onto the back of the sofa, his cock pulsing and reacting so well to your words and how they glided so quickly off your once so innocent tongue. He looks at you with hooded eyes, “fuck baby…” he’s pushing his cock up into your hand, giving you the go-ahead, “Yes, please.”

You squeeze his girth, watching his face screw up at your tiny hold on him, “you’re being so polite, aren’t you, Joel. Y’doing s’good for me.”

His thighs constrict when you trail your other hand across them, fingers finding their way up his clad jeans and skimming the material.

The suspense is too much, his mind running the image of your pretty mouth wrapped around his cock. He needs it badly, the thought enveloping him, so he’s becoming quick with his movements, frenzied hands pulling his belt through the belt loops.

But his motions are put on a standstill when you stop him dead in his tracks.

“Let me Joel. I’m the one who’s looking after you, remember.”

He nods his head, eyes following you whilst you undo the rest of his belt and pull down his zipper. His one hand returns to its rightful place on the armrest, and the other is on his thigh, compressing the muscle and clinging on like his own life depends on it.

There’s no way he’s hiding it; even if he tried, there’s no contradicting it. Once his zippers undone all the way, he’s lifting his hips eagerly to help you pull off the denim and relieve that pressure building in his lower stomach.

His erection is resting heavy in his boxers, and it makes your mouth water, parts of the material deeper in colour from the pre-come that’s coming out of his tip, painting them in his arousal.

His size through his boxers has you gasping. You thought he was prominent in his jeans, but nothing compares to seeing him now. “Fuck Joel, you’re so hard already. Lift your hips again for me. Let me see you.”

He’s so willing to comply, raising his lower body and watching as you pull the waistband of his boxers over his cock and down his legs.

His tips are red—looking angry and hard as his cock hits his stomach with a smack, his pre-come pooling onto the hairs just under his belly button.

You wrap your dainty hand around him, a hiss pulling from Joel’s teeth when you inspect his thickness.

“I knew it,” you confess to yourself, “knew you’d be big Joel.” You tilt your head down and kiss his slit, moaning at the taste, “You’re so fucking pretty.”

You get straight to it, lowering your mouth and swirling your wet tongue around the head of him, collecting his release so he covers all of your tastebuds.

A flavoured hum leaves your lips and pulsates and laps around him, finally savouring those thoughts that clouded your mind all day and night. Now, never having to wonder how Joel would taste, how he’d feel inside your mouth, what he’d look like above you while you urged him closer to his orgasm.

You look up at him through your lashes, landing continuous licks to his slit, “this okay, Joel?” you murmur like he isn’t already putty in your hands.

“Christ,” he grits, his cock reacting to every single swipe of your tongue, “d-darlin’—”

“Go on, Joel,” you utter, “tell me how badly you want me to suck your cock.”

Fuck you’ll be the death of him, his chest filling with oxygen and voice frail, “yes darlin’ jus’… fuck. Want you to suck my cock please—please I need it.”

You giggle at his eagerness, the sound vibrating all over his cock and causing his hips to buckle up, edging his length deeper into your mouth.

You pull off him slightly, tutting your lips together, “Now stay real still, Joel. Don’t move, or I’ll stop. Can you do that for me?”

He’s quick to nod his head in complete understanding, cock becoming impatient and weighty and full in your hand.

This was even better than you’d imagine. This little game you have started with Joel. And noticing how much he was liking it had your cunt dripping for him. Joel’s withering above you when you put your lips back on him, his stare lingering on where you’re both connected. He gasps when your mouth swallows all of his tip, mouth back to swirling your tongue around him like he is your favourite flavoured lolly pop.

There’s no going back from this now, and why would he want to after you’ve just given him a taste of letting go. Why the fuck did Joel stop himself from delving into something he’s been without for so long? How had he forgotten what it was like to be given pleasure and praised for it?

And with your perfect mouth wrapped around him, it’s just the reminder he needed.

You slip more of him inside your mouth, each drop of your head reaching down further until he hits the back of your throat. Your gag reflex contracts around his girth, causing Joel’s stomach to tighten, using all his willpower to stop himself from thrusting up and into your mouth.

Because he remembers your words. Stay real still Joel. Don’t move or I’ll stop.

You alter between bobbing your head and circling your tongue around his swollen tip; the mixture of your saliva and his pre-come coats his cock and makes him glide so smoothly in and around your mouth, the sounds of your slurping and sucking filling the room.

Joel chokes on his words, “f-fuck sweetheart, your mouth…shit, it feels so f-fucking good. Can I move my hands? Please—jus’ wanna feel ya.”

He’s being so patient, keeping his hands down on the sofa, and so much that his strength could split the seams of the material. But behind his compliance, there’s a hunger so deep, so guttural. You can feel it in the way his hips weight themselves down, his thighs clinging together.

You lift your mouth, his tip leaving your warmth with a light pop. Your cheeks are flushed red, and your eyes water from his cock abusing the back of your throat. You use your hand to slowly pump him, keeping him in a state of pleasure, “y’doing so well Joel, and being so good f’me. Go on, I’ll let you touch me; touch me wherever you like.”

You edge him on, bringing your mouth back down and swallowing all of him once again. Joel pulls his upper body forward, soothing his hands on the dent of your spine and anywhere he can reach without disrupting you and your movements on him.

Joel tries to put all of his focus into his breathing, give it full attention, and try his best not to come so quickly. “Christ, darlin’,” Joel mutters, “you’re so perfect. Y’feel so fuckin’ soft.”

Your moan onto his cock, showing him that his touch on your skin is affecting you as much as it is for him. His grip remains on your back, and his other hand moves under you and grabs your breasts, pinching your taunt nipple in between his fingers.

And fuck, his fingers feel good, continuing to bob your head on his cock and dragging your one hand from his thigh down to cup his balls, gently squeezing them in your palms.

Joel’s eyes widen in surprise at the new sensation, “holy s-shit.”

Joel’s rambling. And he’s not even self-conscious about it. He is exposing all confessions and desires to you so voluntarily.

“I touched myself after I saw you,” he acknowledges, “fuck, I tried not to, but I couldn’t stop myself. I p-pictured you like this. On your knees and taking me like this. Shit, you made me come so quick.”

You clench your legs together. Fuck he’s got a dirty mouth when he puts his mind to it. Your eyes are glossy whilst you look up at his wrecked face; his foreheads covered in a sheen of sweat and eyebrows are knitted together to hold off the orgasm that’s about to course through his entire body.

You move your mouth up to his slit, keeping your attention there where you know he’s the most sensitive. You kitten lick his tip, smiling devilishly at his fucked out form, “Is that right, Joel. Did seeing me like that make you horny? Did seeing me so open like you did make your cock hard?” You tease him and he nods at you.

“You’re a naughty boy, aren’t you Joel.”

Joel sighs pathetically, his length throbbing in your hand at the way you provoke him, how you push him even further into divulging into his secrets that he once thought he wouldn’t manifest.

You press wet kisses along his base, pecking his cock in endearment, and your stare never leaves his face. You lick a long strip up the side of him and hollow out your cheeks when his tip fills your mouth again.

He’s close. You can see it on his face. The rushed whimpers are gliding so evenly off his lips, the shallow rise and fall of his chest. And he knows that you know it too, how pitifully fast you’ve got him to that peak.

“You gonna come, Joel?” You ask him enticingly, “You gonna come in my mouth? Like you imagined when you fucked your hand thinking it was me.”

Fuck he wants to. He wants to feel your tongue lick every last drop of him as you swallow his come down your throat, opening your mouth to show him how much you enjoyed it.

He grunts your name, followed by a weakened yes. Yes I’m gonna come. You’ve gotta stop. Baby please stop. Wanna be inside you. Need to feel you.

You chuckle gleefully, and you will stop. But he doesn’t need to know that right now. It’s so fun seeing him struggle. So you continue to lick him and roll his balls in your hand, spurring him on and pulling him just a smidge closer to his high.

He attempts to pull himself away from your mouth, but every time he does, you move back onto him. His thighs begin to shake, chest sucking humid air into his lungs to calm his heart rate but also the pulsing in his cock, “fuck darlin’,” he warns you, “oh my—fuck I don’t—y’gonna make me come. S-shit stop.”

And this time, you do. You do not want this to be over before you’ve even started. You eventually pull your mouth off of him, watching how his cock drops onto his lower stomach with a wet slap, glistening and covered in your spit.

You can see how Joel’s trying to hold it back, wrapping his hand around his head to stop the throbbing still being felt across his cock. His tummy clenches and then releases, becoming soft as he fully takes back charge of his breathing.

You wipe the corners of your mouth with the back of your hand, leaning your lips down to press kisses across Joel’s belly, loving how plush he feels against your lips.

“How was that Joel?” You question, “you still okay?”

You’re such a tease, mouth shifting up Joel’s stomach and onto his chest, his arms pulling you up as you go. “M’fine darlin’,” he huffs, hooking his fingers around your neck, “just come ere’. Come sit on my lap.”

Before you do, you help him remove his boots, boxers, and jeans that still rested by his ankles while Joel unbuttons his flannel and throws it on the floor with the rest of his clothes. The image of his bare muscular chest has your breath hitching and your pussy pulsing. You rest your weight on his shoulders and put yourself onto his thighs, where this affair had begun just moments before.

But only this time, you’re fucking naked and your bare pussy is making a mess on his cock.

“I love these hands…” you bring one up and play around with it, inspecting them and pushing your thumbs down into his palms to massage the longed strains in them, “they’ve worked so hard,” you caress them, “you’ve worked so hard, Joel. For too long.”

You rest your own hands on top of his, caging them so they grip the skin on your thighs, “touch me again, Joel,” you plea, “I ain’t gonna bite.”

You can feel that his hands have no intention of moving, his hold just squeezing the flesh of your legs, with his eyes showing you his need for guidance, “or do you need some help.”

He gives you that well-known signal. So you begin to move his hands for him, bringing them up and onto your hips and then onto the flesh of your waist. You can feel his pulse quicken again as you show him where you want him. You keep him there for a moment…watching the desperation fall from his lips. You smile at his reaction, loving how even having sucked his cock, and almost having him come down your throat, he’s still so hesitant in the way his hands follow your skin.

You guide his touch up to your breasts, feeling his palms kneading the sensitive skin. He massages your chest so tenderly, each rub of his thumb over your nipples pulling more wetness from your core.

You moan out his name, “fuck Joel,” the words permitting him to carry on, “That feels so good.”

And god, you feel so good. “You’re so soft, darlin’,” he mutters, “feel better than I imagined.”

“You’re so sweet, Joel,” you say, cherishing his words, “how many times have you thought about this?”

Fuck he’s thought about this every day since he’s been given the chance to know you. He tried so hard to avoid the temptation that began pestering his mind when you were together. And even when you weren’t, you still drifted into his thoughts.

“Too many times baby,” he admits, “wanted you like this for so long.”

Joel’s so indulged in your breast. He finally feels the way they fit so well in the cup of his hands. He kneads them. He pinches them. But his gaze instantly drops when you avert his other hand locked in place on your chest down lower and in between your thighs.

His cock jumps on his stomach, impulsively reacting to where he knows precisely where you want his hand. And mostly his fingers.

He doesn’t have time to behave, already using two of his fingers and gliding them through your folds, and that alone has your head rolling back, your pussy clenching hard against the calloused skin of his digits.

He saw how drenched you were, but he becomes bewildered when he gets a feel of your soaked cunt. “Fuckin’ hell sweetheart. Christ you’re s’wet.”

And it’s all because of him; his words, his actions, his cock in your mouth, his lack of control. “It’s all for you, Joel,” you softly say. “You’ve done this. Sucking your cock has made me this wet for you. Want to feel you inside me.”

His fingers are uncertain. They’re Nervous. Each slide of them learning everything about you and changing their motions to see what has you twitching in his lap.

You become restless, the tip of his digits teasing your hole and the hood of your clit, “Joel, please,” you babble, “put your fingers inside of me.” So he does. He inserts one finger into your deprived cunt, and fuck; you feel warm and soft, his digits being engulfed by the heat and the pressure of your inner walls.

He doesn’t waste any more time in adding a second finger. Slowly pumping and curling them inside to reach that spongy spot that has your grasp strengthening on his shoulders, your features creasing inwards at the slight stretch of him.

You can feel how your walls are trying to accommodate his fingers, your pussy tight and restricted as your try and get used to having him there. “Knew I’d struggle to take you,” you say quietly, breathing out in rhythm to help you adjust, “yes, Joel, keep going. Yes, that’s—fuck, that’s it. I want to be ready to take you.”

Christ, you were everything. Feeling your stuffed-up pussy pour more of your wetness down his knuckle and hand while Joel uses his thumb to play with your puffy clit, rubbing it in tender figure eights.

“Here’s what I want, Joel,” you muster up to say, your body trying to take pleasure in the instructions you’d firmly set in place for him. “Want you to make me come on your fingers first,” you wrap your fingers around him again, giving his cock a slow tug, “and then you can have this pussy on your cock.”

It’s all becoming too much; how fucking filthy your mouth is. How the words flow out so fluently. It overwhelms him, and he’d be an idiot if he disobeyed.

You question him, raising your eyebrows, “You got it, Joel?”

His fingers falter to a stop, knowing how vocal you like him to be, and what you’ll do if he isn’t. You need to make sure that he heard you, you need him to say that he fully understands you.

He gulps, his voice weak, “Yes, sweetheart.”

You soothe the patchy stubble on his jaw, kissing his lips and hovering your mouth over his, “now show me how y’gonna make me come,” you challenge, “fuck me with your fingers, Joel.”

That sparks him into action, fingers back into the metric pace that had your walls fluttering against him, mouth open with needy moans falling from them.

“Oh my god Joel,” you sob, “yes—fuck right there. Keep going.” He connects his lips with yours, again licking and forcing his way into your mouth as you oblige his invitation. He can taste himself as he still lingers faintly on your tongue, but he’s too far gone now to give a shit about that.

His fingers are relentless, hitting your g-spot each time with the tip of his digits, his other hand following suit to play with your messy and swollen clit, a whimper erupting from your throat and flowing into his mouth.

It hadn’t taken Joel much to find those hidden spots to have that knot tightening in your stomach. To have that pressure rising up and overheating. And fuck, it had been a long time since Joel had used his hands to pleasure a woman, and he thanked the lord that he hadn’t lost his touch.

Your lips break apart for air, your mouth wet and abused from Joel’s ravenous tongue, with your chest rising and body shaking. “Oh my—,” you choke on your words, “fuck Joel. I’m so close. Y’gonna make me come—don’t stop.”

As if he’d ever stop, how could he ever stop.

His fingers keep up their pace, curling into your velvety walls and flicking your clit with his other hand. His weight is ready for your body to tremble and contract as he gives you what you wanted, what he’d always wanted to provide you with.

“Yes baby, please,” he begs you, “give it to me. Show me how pretty you are when you come.”

That’s the last thing you need for the string to snap, that coil in your lower stomach to burst, body falling forward and pussy gushing and throbbing on his fingers, your orgasm pulsing through you and Joel’s one arm already outstretched, ready to catch you.

You cry out his name, Joel Joel Joel, your body now using him for your own pleasure as your hips move on their own terms to prolong that feeling of ecstasy that’s Joel’s flared up inside of you.

“Yes darlin’, that’s it. Fuck I can feel your pussy hugging my fingers so tightly,” and he can imagine what it’s like when he feels it on his cock. He kisses your collarbone and neck when your head falls back, sucking the skin red and leaving a trace of what’s he’s just given to you, marking you, eyes closing shut with that added gratification of his claim.

He lets you ride it out for as long as he can, because you deserve it with how he’s treated you. He slowly pulls out his fingers when his doesn’t feel your walls contracting around him, his two digits shining with your release.

Your body slumps forward onto his chest, and he’d somehow forgotten how much he missed having you this close. His skin is hot, making your limbs shudder. “Oh my god…,” you manage to say, arms wrapping around his neck, “fuck Joel, you’re good at that. You’re s’good.”

Your words make him laugh, and god, you’ve missed that sound, remembering how stern he used to be with you, how it had taken you months to get him to even smile at you. You watch as he grins up at the ceiling, pinching the flesh of your hips.

You lift yourself and shift Joel’s body down lower on the sofa, purchasing his cock so he rests in your folds. You move your hips so his tip nudges at your clit, your pussy lubricating him with your release. Joel grunts at the sensation; just the rubbing of your cunt on his cock has him rocking his hips under you, drawing him closer to where he needs you.

You shudder above him, and all Joel can do is watch you intensely. Waiting for that exact moment when your pussy engulfs his tip, and your thighs start falling. But in his impatient state, it doesn’t come; you continue to stroke yourself on him. And the sound of your voice pulls him back to you.

“Is this what you want Joel?” Like you don’t already know. “You want this pussy to ride your cock?”

He ventures out and pulls you flush down onto his hips, but you refuse and hold yourself frozen in place, ushering your hand up and cupping his jaw in a firm grasp, constraining his face to look at you.

“You’re so impatient Joel,” your features teasing him just that little bit more. “Now. I want you to tell me. Tell me exactly what you want.”

He whines deep from the back of his throat, “fuck sweetheart—” His breathings nonexistent, completely knocked out and winded, firm hands biting down hard on your waist, “I need you. Wanna feel you wrapped around me. Wanna make you come on my cock. Fuck I need it—please.”

You lower your pussy until his head is fully shielded inside you, lusting over that new stretch of his cock spreading you out. You take control of your movements, wanting Joel to feel all of you at a restrained pace, to take all of you in.

Joel strives to gain back some of the strength you’ve swept out of him, and fuck you did it so easily, plunging your hips down so your cunt takes more of him, and his thighs pushing upwards to meet you halfway.

Joel’s wrecked under you the moment his cock feels the comfort of your cunt. His face falling into your hot chest, and in an instant, you’re welcoming him as you knot your hands into the back of his curls.

He feels fucking incredible; he’s so hard and thick, and even with his fingers before, the pull his cock gives you is such a painful pleasure. It makes your pussy burn, fluttering from that hot sting as his cock reaches heaven and smooths that spot inside you that has you seeing white stars behind your eyelids.

The back of your legs make contact with his thighs, and you’re pining at the fullness, “fuck Joel—oh my god.”

Joel musters up a chant of fuck fuck fuck with every inch of his thickness filling you to the brim. He grits his teeth down hard, pulling in his lip and almost drawing blood, needing to stop himself from becoming too into you too fast as his body flavours your tightened walls around his cock.

You can feel his breath heat the skin on your chest, his tone muffled by his lips kissing the flesh of your breast, “fuck baby—shit, you feel…”

You keep your pussy flushed on his length, pulling his hair through your fingers, making him wince from the tug. He lifts his marks from your chest and brings your mouth down to melt into his, only then to take his touch off of yours and pierce into your eyes.

He wants to tell you that he is on cloud nine. He wants to say how beautiful he thinks you are, how he’d never be able to go a minute without having you like this, and not only intimately but to have you so close to him, to have you so near, how you’ve made him question all his past decisions.

So he tells you the truth, “Perfect. Christ sweetheart, you feel perfect. Like y’made for me.”

You become embarrassed by his words and reward him with a swirl of your hips, testing your body to see if your cunt has yet adjusted to his thickness. His fingers felt incredible, but it doesn’t compare to having his cock buried inside you. You can feel how your walls pull him in so well, your slick and a mixture of his arousal making his cock glide so simply in and out of you.

You pull your hips up with shaky legs so only half of his cock’s shielded inside you and drop back down slowly, repeating the action until you have to bear yourself, feeble hands being placed on his knees, arching your back as your head faces the ceiling.

He has you everywhere, hands gripping your hips and waist, his contact moving up your ribs to the curve of your breast and neck, touching as much of you as he can.

Your pussy throbs and latches down hard on his cock, Joel’s mind unable to focus on anything but the squeeze. “Shit baby,” he curses quietly, “y’so fucking tight.”

You look back at him, voice mellow and movements evenly paced, “Yeah? Does this pussy feel good? It’s all yours, Joel,” you promise him, “fuck, it’s all for you.”

Your assurance goes straight through his body and down his length, which starts to throb inside you at how true your words are, your confidence emitting straight onto him. He looks at every inch of you, taking his time to fully appreciate what’s in front of him, to admire what’s on top of him: the way your chest lifts and falls with every ragged breath, breast sensitive to his fingers and mouth, the way your whimpers fill the room, your body covered in sweat that makes your skin glisten.

And that’s when he notices a change in your attitude, dropping your guard just a smidge as you continue to move your hips but now at a hurried pace. Your hands are suddenly needy and attentive, your words now imploring, “fuck Joel. I need you—” you beg him.

“What baby,” he says, his tone low, “tell me. Shit—tell me what you want.”

You need him deeper, you need him harder, fucking all of himself into you until you can’t walk the next day, until the second orgasm he brings out of you has your head dizzy with just the thoughts of him.

“I need…,” you mumble, “Joel, I need it harder. Please fuck me. I want it hard.”

Yes, he can do that. So he stops your movements, ready to give you what you need. “Okay darlin’. Fuck— yeah, okay.”

His stare is firm and direct, and all you can summon is a weakened nod and a pull at his shoulders, beckoning him to swap positions.

You cage your arms around his neck to keep a firm hold of him whilst Joel puts his one hand down on the sofa and the other on your back, carefully lifting his weight off his hips and crashing both of your body’s onto the couch, his cock remaining nestled in you warm walls.

He sets his one foot onto the floor and the others bent by your side, giving himself that extra leverage and strength while he holds himself up by his palms, his mass adding pressure onto the cushion below.

He soothes, coasting his touch over and pinching all of you, his hands sending bolts of electricity down to your core, your legs wrapping around his lower back to keep him condensed and up close.

Every thrust of his hips has your back lifting off the sofa, his cock continuously hitting that spot inside you, his tip nudging that knot cramping in your stomach and pulling a gasp from your throat.

He looks down and regrets it the moment his eyes stare at where you’re connected. His chokes on his breath and his thrust stall, not trusting another pull of his hips in your cunt knowing too well he could come quickly and shamefully. His pays attention to how his cocks covered in your wetness, saturating his skin and the hair on his pubic region.

You force his head up from where his eyes are frozen, moving his attention to you, “Look at me, Joel…,” you beckon, “look at me when you fuck me.”

And he listens. Even though he’s on top of you, he’s listening to you. He watches you with a desired expression as he observes the pure ecstasy flourishing through your features.

He knows you’re about to come, he can feel it wrapped all around his cock. It’s that same feeling of your cunt fluttering on his fingers just moments ago when he watched that pleasure take over your body and when he let you ride it out in slow and steady waves. But only this time, it’s so much more intense. And this time, it lunges his orgasm forward.

Fuck he needs you to come. Like, right now.

Somehow, you’ve read his mind, finally jumbling out your words, “F-uck Joel. I’m close. Fuck I’m so so close.”

He’s barely holding on, arms juddering and stomach clenching to keep himself from spilling his release inside of you, needing you to finish before him.

“Give it to me darlin’,” Joel pleads, “that’s it—let me feel ya. Let me feel you come around me.”

His words are what you need to break; you begin to pulse and convulse around his hard length, arms dragging him down as your breasts compress into his sticky chest, weak arms holding onto his shoulder blades.

The feeling of your pussy coming around him has his hips faltering. Joel has no fucking idea how he’s lasted this long, his own legs shaking and his eyebrows furrowing in concentration, “fuck darlin’, I’m gonna—” his forehead connects with yours, “fuck y’gonna make me come.”

Once your high has substantially subsided, and his thrusts have you riding out every flood of pleasure that washed over you, your mind can take into his words as you place a gentle kiss on his lips. “Please, Joel,” landing another kiss onto the side of his mouth, “come Joel—fuck, I want it inside. Want you to fill me up.”

Surely, he’s not hearing correctly, his ears ringing and heavy heartbeat blocking all noise around him.

His movements become delayed, his voice cracking, “y’sure darlin’?” Fuck let that be what you said because he’d do anything to come inside you right now. To stay nestled in your cunt for as long as he possibly can. “Is that what you want?”

Your eyes are glazed over, tears threatening to spill down the sides of your face, “yes Joel,” you cry out, “Please come in me. Wanna feel it.”

“Christ,” he huffs, his breath hot and heating the already reddish flush on your cheeks, “okay—fuck okay I’ll come inside you baby.”

You intentionally clench your walls around him, digging your heels into his lower back to keep him deep and as close to you as possible. You keep that up until Joel warns you, mumbling your name before an ‘Oh shit, I’m coming, fuck I’m coming.’ And with a few more thrusts of his hips, they slow down, his high taking possession of his body, his seed filling you up.

“That’s it, Joel. Fill me up.” Your words prolonging his orgasm, feeling his warm come coat your walls and his cock twitching with each spurt of his release.

His thrusts come to a hilt, finishing off with one final quick and deep thrust before all of his body weight lands on top of you, chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath.

You feel so full of him. The way his body is hefty on top of yours, his mind oblivious to his weight as he squashes you deep into the sofa. And you wouldn’t want it any other way. Once he has dominance of his own body again and gathers enough energy to, he pulls his softening cock out of your hole with a groan, his release dripping out of you.

He wraps his arms around you, changing the position so you’re now back on top, your head now lying on his chest and your legs becoming tangled together.

You both lie there in silence, the sound of Joel’s heart and his overall warmth across your skin has your eyes feeling heavy. You dig your chin into his peck, giving him a gentle smile, “y’feeling okay Joel?”

“I’m okay darlin’, he soothes, running his hand through your hair, “I’m more than okay.”

He kisses your lips, eyes looking back down at you, his voice coming out small. “Listen darlin’, I never meant to ignore you. It’s just…I haven’t felt this way in a long fuckin’ time and I know there’s nothing I can say to—“

“Joel stop—,” you place your finger on his lips, shushing him before he can say anything further.

“We don’t need to talk about that now,” you say, “that’s all in the past. And all I want you to know is that I understand, and it’s okay. We’re okay.”

He nods at you, grabbing the blanket that rests on the top of the couch and pulling it over your body to keep the warmth in.

You always know what to say, your words having his eyes quickly falling shut with you all over his mind. He’s spent the last fortnight feeling shitty and regretful, struggling to get any sleep as he thinks about how much he’s hurt you. But right now, with you resting on top of him and soft snores leaving your lips, he knows he’ll never have to worry about you again.

[shadowkoo]

Baby Maker

→ Summary: You and Yoongi have been relishing the comfort of your newly married life, savoring each moment together. However, there's an additional want tugging at your heartstrings – the thought of becoming a mother. That’s right, you want a baby. Yoongi isn’t sure if he’s ready for the journey of bringing a baby into your lives. But he’ll agree to anything that makes you happy, and if it’s a baby you want, it’s a baby you’ll get.

↠ myg x f.reader | 1k words | 18+ ↠ genre: slice of life, romance, fluff, smut, newlyweds

→ Warnings: unprotected sex (intentional), daddy kink, impregnation kink, deep dicking, belly bulge, oral (female receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie

→ Author note: This is a remix/update of an older fic of mine, so I hope you enjoy the newest version! If you'd like to read this on ao3 instead it's been crossposted here! And as always, all likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated <3

You wrap your arms around your husband the second he walks through the front door of your home.

"Mmm, I've waited all day for this," you whisper before pulling him into a long kiss. One of your hands cradles his cheek while the other plays with his hair.

"Well, hello there Mrs. Min," Yoongi says with a sideways smile sprawled across his face after pulling away, "What's got you in such a good mood?" He takes off his blazer and sets his work bag down on the bench in your entryway as you pull him into another lengthy kiss, one that makes Yoongi's groin stir with excitement.

You smile up at him and start to unbutton his top as you pull him further into your home, your end goal being the bedroom.

"Baby?" he asks with dark eyes, "Are you planning on spoiling me with dessert before dinner tonight?"

You laugh, "Baby, I don't want dessert... I want a baby."

Yoongi's face changes from one of eager anticipation to confusion, then to pure and utter shock.

‘Did all the air in the room suddenly disappear? Why aren’t you having trouble breathing like he is?’

"I want to make a baby with you," you repeat, looking into his fear-filled eyes. You figured he'd be a little freaked out, but not this much.

He coughs and sputters, pulling at the neck of his button-up shirt. "You, uh, b-baby?" Yoongi mutters once he’s able to form words again.

"Yes, a baby," you took a step back from him. "It's been almost three years since we've gotten married and talked about having kids in the future. Don't you want a mini you or me to love, to watch them grow, to teach them stuff?"

Yoongi is conflicted, not because he doesn’t want kids –he does– but it scares the shit out of him. That's a whole life to take care of and be responsible for. He knows how much you want a family though, and how patient you have been with him about trying for kids.

You give him that one look - the one that you know will get you whatever you want.

"Alright,” he says, easily won over. “Let's make a baby," he answers while pulling you back into his arms.

Yoongi brings your center up against his. You feel his growing hardness pressing into you through his jeans, and moan through the kiss. You want him.

And he wants you.

His kisses are hot and needy, but somehow still so very loving.

Yoongi lifts you up and carries you urgently the rest of the way to the bedroom, where he lays you down, ready to fuck you. To love you.

Your hands work on his shirt's buttons, undoing them as fast as you can. His run along your hips, making their way to the front of your jeans where he works to undo them, and slips them and your panties off simultaneously.

Your husband keeps eye contact with you while one of his hands slides slowly up the inside of your legs, right up to the edge of your dewy folds.

“Is this pretty little cunt ready for me?”

You nod frantically, and moan uncontrollably when his tongue dives deep into your core. He savors you, his tongue playing your clit like it's the most intricate instrument.

Grabbing a fistful of his hair, you hold his head in place while he finished you off. You come undone all over his face, his cheeks showing evidence of your release once he pulls away from you.

“I’ll never get tired of your taste,” he breathes. And it’s true, you’re intoxicating. He’s addicted to you.

Yoongi stands up, pulling you towards the edge of the bed, where he then rubs his throbbing cock through your folds, wetting himself just enough to dip into you.

He nearly loses himself, but manages to power through and find a rhythm that has you both heading in the right direction.

His low moans sound like heaven to your ears.

You pull him closer to you until your lips crash together, moaning into each other's mouth while you climb higher and higher.

Needing to sink even further into your heat, he lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, pounding you from a new angle and bringing you closer and closer to the release that you crave.

“Who’s fucking you like there’s no tomorrow? Who’s putting this baby in your belly? I want you to scream my name,” he demands.

“You did,” you pant. “Min Yoongi did.”

“Fuck!” Yoongi grits his teeth as he watches the way your lower belly bulges, matching his hard thrusts.

"I’m so close,” you cry out, your nails digging into your husband’s biceps. “Cum in me," you whine, pleading for him to release into you. Yoongi is more than happy to oblige.

"I love you,” you breathe as the waves of pleasure wash over you, the tingling spreading through your veins.

“I love you more.” Yoongi grunts, his final thrusts becoming more sporadic as he passes the peak, and fills you with his seed. His face twists in pleasure as your pulsating walls milk the last from him.

You’re satisfied feeling his warm release shooting up inside of you. A big grin won’t leave your face, “Thank you.”

He considers making a dick joke, but he doesn’t want to ruin the moment. “You’re welcome, baby,” he says, kissing your cheek.

You roll over onto your back and lift your now tired and heavy legs in the air, and Yoongi gives you a perplexed look. "What?” you ask, "I've heard that this makes the sperm find the egg faster."

He thinks you look ridiculous in the best sort of way, and joins you. "I gain nothing from this but I figured I'd do it to support you."

"You're such a dork." But you love him for it.

"You know what you have to call me later if this worked?" Yoongi asks before answering his own question before you even have the chance. "The baby maker."

Your giggles filled the room and Yoongi can’t help but laugh along with you.

"Alright," you sighed once you calmed down, "I just figured you preferred daddy..."

That same look from earlier flared up in Yoongi's eyes once again, "I'm open to negotiations."

©shadowkoo 2023. All rights reserved.

[nyanggk]

SCREAMING LET'S FFUCKINGGG GOOOOOOO

Innocence is a bar that man themselves have set impossibly high, making it impossible for even the most devoted worshiper to reach. --- SHAKESPEARE WHOMST not you starting off the whole fic with a description so poetic

YAS WE ARE A CHALLENGE

It’s you over anyone else, and really, what’s so bad about having a fuckton of sex? --- I STAN

You're a succubus, a demon who feeds on lust, yet here he is, screaming for God like you aren't giving him the time of his life. --- BRUH THE WAY I DID NOT REALIZE THIS until it was pointed out haksjhsakd ironic INDEED

do you now know what g-spot means HAHAHAHAHAAHAHHA IM SORRY

SHUT UP THE BOY IS JAY HASDHASHDASHH THE WAY I SPAT!!!! I HAVE DROOL NOW UNDER MY LIP FUCK YOUUUUUUU

jay a whole fruit seller what

AND A WHOLE FUCKING CHEATER

did he die

me reading this fic and praying for your safety (from the possible anon haters and also the wrath of God)

WHO IS THIS FATHER WHO IS IT

The tone of his voice is so satisfying that it even makes your cunt water as it awaits his penetration. --- THE AMOUNT OF FILTH IN ONE SENTENCE, ARE YOU OKAY?

You think he should be worshiping you. --- queen

OH IT'S JAKE

the sass in this demon i love it

the fact that Jake just KNOWS it's wrong but is just TOO INNOCENT and TOO KIND to refuse wah chefs kiss the little poor boy

no sorry i randomly thought of the sexy priests calendar i saw on my fyp and the woman rating each priest of the month HAHAHAHAH

omg Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift started playing and it eerily fits

NOT LICKING THE KNUCKLES BYYE JAKE I AM PRAYING FOR YOU

HIM APOLOGIZING TO GOD OUT LOUD HELPPPPP

All he can do is condemn you in his mind for giving him his conciseness back at the worst timing possible --- did you mean consciousness bestie

heeseung you dumb fuck, jake didn't cum yet!

NOT THEM SCOLDING YOU FOR CUSSING

them both touching themselves cluelessly POOR BOYS

"Me too, please." --- oh my god

I find it funny that Heeseung didn't even resist much lmao when he first came in

NOT JAKE SHOVING HEESEUNGHAHAHAHAHAHAH

"And why is he touching you like that?! I-I can do better!" --- gasp! wet.

"You ready, boys?" --- OH NAUR HERE IT COMES

no gag reflex? wow what a goal

almost falling down if it weren't for Jake, who dashingly catches you. --- what a man

ALL THAT IN AN HOUR???????????????????????????

"So cold. Wanna go back inside." --- oooooh he's CHEEKy

BRO. i can only imagine how long it took you to write this because it is LENGTHY and just porn with a sprinkle of plot. in conclusion i am wet, goodbye.

did you really kill jay--

[MDNI] GIRL BCS THIS WAS ALL PURE SMUT AND NO HUMOUR (well a bit maybe) I WAS LITERALLY CRINGING AND CACKLING THE WHOLE TIME— cringing bcs of my writing that ppl can see and cackling BCS THIS SHIT IS TOO FUNNY

ALSO WDYM "do u know what a gspot is" (^_-) DID I EVEN USS THAT TERM FUCK I DONT REMEMVER??????????? aw hell nah is this the whole prostate thing all over again 💀💀💀💀💀

this is medieval, ofc that's the only medieval job I can think of 😟 I imagine him filling those pull up thingys where u can store things and then sell it across the city JNADOWNDO is it called a cart?????????? my English bad 😎🥸

did he die? hmmmmmmmm, who knows 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ maybe he'll appear in the next entry or he was just devoured 😚😚😚😚

GIRL FUCK EM THERE ARE LITERAL WARNINGS SAYING NOT TO READ AND HOW THERES A HPLE FUCK OF MOCKKNG/DISCRIMINATION 😤 BITCH YOURE GONNA BE FUCKING A PRIEST AND YOURE A SUCCUBUS how real can this fic get 😭 NOT AT ALL

naurr bcs baby boy would literally just do anything bcs he's too kind 🤧🤧🤧 heS SUCH A SWEET BABY

yes I did mean consciousness 😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😀😃

I find it funny how heeseung didn't even resist much when he first came in — girl- I can't be bothered to write a whole 5k long description of how heeseung is falling into her charm so I just *darts out hand* *charm exudes* *charm heeseung completely* LMFAO

nana,,, you know the reason why this took longer tjan fucking picture perfect? it's bcs whenever I tried to proof read, I'd just get too aroused and bail out LMFOANZOWNDOWND and then I'd be too tired to proof read/write again and then I'd just be like "eh tomorrow" and tjen the process just repeats

also,HA FUCK U there's only one grammar error 😊😁😁😍😍😍🥰😏😝😝🤪🤪😜🤪🤪😜

THANK U SO MUCH NANA FOR DOING ALL OF THIS the amount of EFFORT you put into making this just SENDS ME I kept on squealing and laughing throughout all of it so thank u thank u SO MUCH I wanna give u a big fat SMOOCH ON THE CHEEK

[michaelsfavgirl]

spoiled with pleasure

Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader

Tags: slight smut, Michael being a pleasure dom pt. 5473

Word Count: 476

Requested: yes/no (this is purely self indulgent)

Author’s Note: Here's a little drabble while I work on y'alls reqs

Links: navigation | masterlist | taglist

Michael understands your cravings, your fantasies, your longing. He knows that you yearn for his girthy cock to stretch you, to fill you in the ways that only he can. Whether it's in your own home, at neverland or in a secluded spot on a romantic getaway, he's willing to answer your call, to give you exactly what you want, no matter where you are.

Every morning and every night, he vows to lavish attention on your sensitive pussy, to taste your sweet essence, and to ensure that you feel utterly satisfied. He will kneel before you, his lips and tongue hungrily licking and sucking to bring you to the edge of your orgasm.

He aims to create a world where you never feel the need to resort to touching yourself, where your only source of pleasure and release is him. He wants you to know that he's your safe haven, your sanctuary of ecstasy. With every intimate touch, every kiss, every caress, he reaffirms his commitment to your satisfaction. He knows that he wants to give you everything he has, and more.

All he wants is to be the one to take care of you in every way possible. The notion of his sweetheart tiring herself out for anything other than her pleasure is simply not an option. To him, you're a princess deserving of nothing less than the most regal treatment.

He has scripted a world where your comfort and satisfaction are most important. His mission is clear - you're to bask in the luxurious cocoon he weaves around you, a cocoon that demands you only revel in your desires while he caters to your every whim.

The concept of you engaging in laborious activities is foreign to him, making him question how other men have no issue with neglecting their lovers in the bedroom and only caring about their own release. That's a stark contrast to the luxurious fantasy he envisions for you. In his mind, you would do nothing more than grace him with different positions, allowing him to explore and ravish every corner of your body, letting him thrust his lengthy, fat cock into your glossy cunt. Your whimpers and whines of pleasure from cumming multiple times in a row would be the only contribution he seeks.

The mere thought of you succumbing to the pressures of pleasuring him, your jaw straining as you fight to take more of his shaft into your sweet mouth, or attempting to ride his thick cock while struggling to fully sink down, is enough to send waves of protective affection surging through him. He wants to shield you from any potential discomfort, no matter how fleeting.

A good girl like you should never have to lift a finger. He's here to give you everything he has - not just his body, but his heart and his devotion.

© michaelsfavgirl 2024

Taglist: @heartss444mj @yeriminist @yeaiamme2 @helloaugustmoon @cinnamoncunt @theladyofmylife @minekarina @kionaaa @theskinniestjackson-denny @youronlyonenini @graciegizmo3184 @theasexual-jackson @mrsmikaelsxn

[pleasantanathema]

Pleasant’s Writer Recs!

I’ve gotten a few asks in my inbox over the past few weeks asking me for writer recs, so I thought the best way to do this was to compile a list of my fav authors on tumblr and rec my favorite fic of theirs! A lot of these amazing authors are moots—I’m very lucky to call many of them close friends. This list could be much longer, and I could go on for days about every single author, but I’ll try to keep it brief. Most all of these authors, like myself, write 18+ only content. Hopefully this can be a useful tool for authors and readers alike looking for amazing fanfic 💕

@bakatenshii | Angel is so phenomenal with her writing that I almost can’t put her style and amazing ability into words (but I’ll try). Angel’s work is beautiful, masterful, full of poetry, elegance, and smut that will all leave you gasping. Fav Fic: Blitz [Ushijima x Reader]

@blahkugo | Sunnt, Thunnth, Sunny, whatever you call her, she is brilliant. No one writes Tsukishima quite like she does. She is beyond creative and her writing style flows like the sexiest water, it’ll make you thirsty and quench your aches. Fav Fic: Tower [Tsukishima x Reader]

@deathcab4daddy | Tay is all about details, details, details. She fills in every gap and paints gorgeous, sexy pictures and situations for the reader to feel immersed in. Fav Fic: Cerulean Blue [Akaashi x Reader]

@dymphnasprose | Dymphna is all about fun, sex, and slowly filling out her holy bible of smut. She’s amazing at creating realistic sub/dom relationships and her smut almost always comes with a healthy dose of build-up. Fav Fic: Green Scrunchies [Ukai x Reader]

@enjifuckersupreme | Ketsl reigns supreme over pure, unadulterated porn. They are phenomenal at making me the reader wet, and every fic is crafted with so much care. Enji fuckers should bow down at their feet, no one loves and writes Enji like Ketsl. Fav Fic: Attitude Adjustment [Enji x Reader]

@hisoknen | Raph is one of the first dark blogs I ever started reading, and she never, ever disappoints. She writes pieces that chill you to the bone, but warms your sex- her writing is casual, smooth, and realistic, always giving you everything you need, but leaving you wanting a little more. Fav Fic: Sleeping Beauty [Dabi x Reader]

@hoe-doroki | Ana is one of the sweetest writers I know. Every time I talk to her, she’s working on comfort requests or beta-reading for other people. Her writing is such a pleasure to read, as you can tell she pours love and consideration into every fic for her readers. Fav Fic: Can’t Find My Breath [Bakugou x Reader]

@joyousandverywarlike | Zo...holy fucking shit. Zo is a writer who consistently blows me out of the water with her skill. This woman is a novelist blessing us with juicy, rich smut and love stories like no one else can. She is incredibly poetic and her writing is an absolute joy to read; she also writes amazing fics for black readers and has an amazing voice that she uses for asmr audios! Fav Fic: How We Met [Ushijima x Reader]

@lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten | Leah is an author who takes immense care with her work. She works incredibly hard to craft sexy, healthy bdsm fics for bnha. She is a great blog to go to for bdsm education, and she’s also got a side blog @lemonlordleah-extra-sour for all you extra naughty readers who like the darker side of fanfic. You should also check out her Patreon! Fav Fic: Between the Evergreen [Aizawa x Reader]

@linestrider | Nyki’s work is like smooth water, it’s calming, refreshing, but she also adds a nice, chill bite to it as well with her darker style. Nyki puts such an impressive amount of care into her work; a word is never out of place, every sentence has meaning, every paragraph gives you something new. It was very hard to choose just one fic to recommend. Fav Fic: What’s Said is Said [Hawks x Reader]

@lookslikeleese | Leese is one of the most fun writers on Tumblr, and by that I mean you just have a shitload of fun reading her fics. They are like little, sexy treats to take in right before bed and feel a little more full than you were before. She is also the Cucking Queen. Fav Fic: Cola [Enji x Reader] 

@messwriting | Lee is also another fun writer! Her writing is exhilarating to read, and you’d never guess she’s a sexy Brazilian whose second language is English based on how well she writes. She’s a little sex goddess who will give you everything you want and more in every fic. Fav Fic: What We Could’ve Been [Tsukishima x Reader]

@mindninjax | Marquie is a full on sweetie with a sexy side. She. Is. So. Creative. Every fic of hers is so unique and her masterlist is a whole reading experience. She writes Bakugou Katsuki so damn well, she’s a master at characterization, even in au’s. She also writes beautiful fics for black readers. Fav Fic: Bound to You [Bakugou x Reader]

@nekokoafanfictions | I first found Ai on Ao3, and then was fortunate enough to come across their blog here on Tumblr! I’ve said this before in previous rec lists, and I’ll say it again, I still read their fics some nights to fall asleep to, they are just that good, every fic will have you coming back at some point to read it again. Fav Fic: City Lights [Enji x Reader]

@present-mel | The. Queen. Of. Dialogue. Mel is a master at making her fanfic feel real, gritty, sexy, and beautiful all at the same time. This woman pours her heart and soul into fanfic, especially into her Erwin series Fragments of Memories. I was so captivated by her work that I just had to become her friend, her work is enchanting and thrilling. Fav Fic: Until the Fire Played [Enji x Reader]

@rat-suki | Annie makes me horny. Like, real horny. Her smut is fantastic and are often little thrill rides within themselves. Fuck rollercoasters, just go to Annie’s masterlist to find a joy ride. Fav Fic: Hell Fire [Enji x Reader]

@rivendell101 | I’m such a big fan of Alisha, that I sent her a request months ago before we even became friends. This author knows how to craft a story, her work is very meticulous with details and her plots are always so spot on. Fav Fic: Sweet Thing [Natsuo x Reader]

@smutbardpeach | Smutbard is the most accurate title for Peach, as her fics read like poetry and song, filled with beautiful language, imagery, and allusions to the brim. If you’re ever looking for something romantic, sensual, delightful, and just overall magnificent to read, this is the blog to go to. Peach’s work is like reading poetry and classics right off the shelf. Fav Fic: Truth in Wine [Hizashi x Reader]

@spicyness | Are you thirsty? Do you like fun, sexy headcanons? Ness is the author for you. Ness is so, so fun and sweet, and is active with her followers and is always posting something new and creative for us to nibble at. Her blog is full of fun thirsts and she’s always a joy to see pop-up on my dash. Fav Fic: Pride [Bakugou x Reader]

@sugardaddykenma | Lin has the most amazing brain. I wish I could just...see and understand how she thinks. Her blog is full to the brim with hilarious, iconic, and down right fucking true headcanons for haikyuu characters. Many nights I have stayed up laughing my ass off and saying “why is that so true?” while reading through her astonishingly creative work. Fav Fic: Haikyuu on Drugs

@thewheezingwyvern | Wyv is a writer who gets straight to the point; her words are poignant, meaningful, and always paint a very clear picture. She is a Shinsou and Aizawa lover/fucker all the way to her core, and she’s amazing at bringing those characters to life in her work. Fav Fic: Salt Lines [Aizawa & Shinsou x Reader]

@thisisthehardestthing | Claudia is one of the most talented writers I have ever met. Period. She has a vocabulary, a depth, an ability to craft the most intense, alluring, and magnificent fanfic you’ve ever read. Most of her work doesn’t even seem like fanfic, it reads like love letters stuffed into the pages of a book that stand the test of time with her marvelous writing abilities. She always awes me, as every single fic is unique and powerful it its own way. Fav Fic: Tocka [Tanaka x Reader]

@tomurasprincess | The Queen of Darkness herself, Mari is amazing at fulfilling all of your dark desires. I’ve never met anyone else who is as active as she is with her followers, as she’s constantly pushing herself to answer requests and give people exactly what they want to see. She has such an expansive masterlist, any dark fic lover can find something worthwhile from her! She’s almost made a Shigaraki fucker out of me, almost. Fav Fic: Wraith’s Touch [Shigaraki x Reader]

@undermattsun | Miki taught me what a skate rat is. Do I understand it yet? Not really, but I fucking like it. Miki is so much fun and is always active with her followers, giving out awesome thirsts, visuals, and headcanons for her fav haikyuu characters. Fav Fic: Flavor of the Month [Matsukawa x Reader]

@vixen-scribbles | Vixen is someone who cares about everyone around her, and her blog reflects that. Amongst all her amazing writing, you’ll always find her recommending her friends and supporting other writers. Her writing is fucking sexy, she knows her way around the bedroom when it comes to fics, and she’s got a lengthy masterlist to fawn over. Fav Fic: Take All of Me [Ushijima x Reader]

@whats-her-quirk | Truly, the best has been saved for last. June’s work is the heart and soul of classic, fucking amazing fanfic. I can’t even explain how much I love her fics, like they will put the biggest smile on your face and have your thighs rubbing together in anticipation. June is writing her fantasies and having fun, and we are privileged to enjoy the ride with her. She knocked kinktober out of the fucking park, with each fic being a new, fresh delight. Fav Fic: Once in a Blue Moon [Karasuno x Reader Gangbang]

This list could honestly be twice as long, and perhaps in the future I’ll make a companion to it as I meet new authors and read more amazing fanfic. Please give all these authors a follow or at least check out their blogs. 💖

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing xv. | m

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: oral (m receiving), jk and oc in their feelings :c, fluff n cuteness tbh

words: 7, 816

summary: a series of drabbles where you’re confused and jungkook’s confusing

a/n:

im so sorry for the late update but it's finally here!!! it's been a hectic few weeks w my exam preparation coming right around the corner too :c

anyway!!!! we've got some smut after a while 👀so for visual purposes pls imagine jk from the butter mv, specifically his hair and eyebrow piercing ...

i hope you enjoy this chapter !!!

Safety was a very important aspect of your life. Everything that you did, you always weighed the realistic possibilities of you regretting your decision; mind running at one hundred miles per hour while you drew a mental mind map of every possible outcome you could possibly predict. It was exhausting to have your mind immediately come up with worst-case scenarios where the risk was realistically a meagre five per cent against the other ninety-five, but you were a chronic overthinker by nature.

You steered far from doing things that would end up causing more harm to you and your environment because you knew that there was no actual reason why you could justify getting completely wasted at a party. If it was for fun—surely, you’d vehemently oppose that the next morning.

Your friends, or even anyone who knew of you; always lamented you for your tendency to remain in your bubble. You knew that overall, you were an overthinker and that most of the time—nothing of what you conjured would actually happen purely because, well—your friends are still alive, and so were you. You just missed out on ‘fun’.

But old habits died hard. Maybe that was why the most reckless and impulsive thing that you did—was with Jungkook.

Out of all your friends, Jungkook was the one person that really did whatever he could get his hands, feet or body to do.

He was very determined by nature and a natural daredevil at that. You remember on multiple occasions where he and his family went on a family vacation, and he came back with stories of his adventures swinging from the top of a cliff upside down, getting a snake to wrap itself around his neck—and by far the most impulsive one, returning with a small tattoo of said snake on the back of his neck.

Jungkook was so unpredictable that neither of your friends could ever tell what he’d do next. And you supposed that added to his charm, but it didn’t take away from the five stages of absolute shock that you’d go through when you witness another one of his unpredictable tendencies.

Like right now.

“Please say something,” he laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck while you can only gape at him.

“Purple.” You blurt.

He blinks before his eyes dart upwards as his finger twiddles a few strands of hair between them.

“Yeah,” he hums, “It looks a little blue in some lights, though.”

You nod your head slowly, still processing what is probably the lesser surprising one between the two things that have you double-taking at his figure when you first greeted him at your door.

“That’s … not all,” you say slowly.

Jungkook offers you a lopsided grin that stirs something in your belly, and you don’t know if it’s his hair, or the fact that he’s starting to wear shorter sleeves as the weather begins to get hotter; his tattoos on display as it trails upon his arm—or if it was because of the—

“Eyebrow piercing?” He raises a brow, particularly the one with the eyebrow piercing as it glints under the natural sunlight that filters in the hallway, “So. Do you like it?” He asks, smile still small as he leans in for you to get a better look.

Your breath hitches when his face gets closer, but not enough for it to be insinuative in any way. It was just you and your weak-willed nature whenever it came to Jungkook. You hoped that he wasn’t able to see the way that your ears undoubtedly redden under the proximity.

“What matters is if you like it, Jungkook,” you remind him softly, shyly looking down to your feet.

He sighs, resting an arm against your doorway in a way that makes him look as large as the width of your door. His gaze is still calm and steady, lips curled ever so slightly as he rests his eyes on you.

“I know. But I care if you like it or not,” he retorts.

You scoff, waving him off, but a small grin still threatens itself onto your face.

“Well you shouldn’t,” you huff.

“Why not?” He hums as he cards a hand through his hair. Even if it’s a bright colour and you’re sure that it required copious amounts of bleach and hours at the salon to get the final result—it still looks soft when he swifts through the locks.

“Because,” you lull, “My opinion doesn’t matter. If you like it and you think it’s pretty then that’s more than enough.”

He clicks his tongue against his cheek before his eyes dart down. You’re still avoiding his gaze because you weren’t ready to have your senses assaulted with the way he’s crowding you in the doorway of your own home.

“You’re trying really hard not to compliment me right now,” he teases.

“I am not!” You splutter, ears turning red. Your eyes dart to your feet. “… but if it matters then … I like it. It’s pretty.”

Jungkook’s grin is nothing short of wide when his head reaches out to smooth your hair out of your face that forces you to look up at him. You attempt to keep your heart beat at bay, even if the way he looks pleased with your futile trial of complimenting him. In reality, you thought it looked more than just pretty. Jungkook looked … hot. He was already attractive as he was, and his confident yet quiet nature made him exponentially hotter—but his long, purple hair and the new eyebrow piercing just made him even sexier.

“It matters.” He smiles, cocking his head to the side as you bashfully step aside to allow him to enter your apartment.

He settles in like he’s the missing piece to the lonely nights you spend on your dining table studying away for a test or an exam. And you suppose that Jungkook’s always fit right in, wherever you were. He was a comfortable presence in your life, even when the two of you were in high school and he’d come over for tutoring lessons. Or when it’d be just you and him in your mother’s car while you taught him how to drive.

Jungkook’s somehow always filled in the other seat in your life when there called for two. Even when you note that he still sits on one foot while the other hangs off the couch, a habit he’s had since he was young, or the way that he’s still stupidly polite not to sprawl himself across your couch like Jimin and Taehyung did whenever they were over. Jungkook’s always been there and you were always there to see.

“So … what’s up?” His voice interrupts the daydream that got you a little more soft than you’d like. You shake your head as you shut the door behind you, turning around to fully face Jungkook.

“The ceiling?” You reply lamely, a soft chuckle escaping your lips when you see him roll his eyes.

“Ha ha,” he mocks, “I meant if there was anything you wanted to talk about. You know—since you texted me to come over.” He finishes with a raise of his brow.

You still as your brain processes his words. You did text him first. You had just finished a lengthy meeting with the student union and didn’t feel like studying just yet—and you just so happened to have been thinking about Jungkook when you caught a glimpse of your phone (when were you not).

You didn’t have a reason, even if your conscience would argue that you did and it was because you missed him. Even if you were the one that needed time. Your heart and mind wanted two different things, but they both revolved around Jungkook. So, you compromised and settled for a simple text.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, shuffling towards your couch as you plop in the loveseat across from him.

He ogles the way that you chose a seat that wasn’t the one that he was sat on. He doesn’t point it out, though. Instead, a firm line settles on his lips before he leans back to your couch, eyes still trained on your figure.

“You don’t need to sound so shy,” he says, “I’ll always come if you’re the one that’s asking.”

Your eyes widen when your head darts up. When you look at him, you swear that you’d melt because he was looking at you with mirth dancing in his eyes. The somewhat dim lighting of your living room made him look so … cosy. He looked more comfortable, probably knowing that you weren’t going to nag at him for manspreading at the way you can only stare. You don’t know if it’s on purpose but you’re sure it is—but Jungkook’s eyebrow piercing is strategically exposed when he raises a brow, flicking his bangs aside. Your brain short-circuits.

“It’s not—I’m not—I’m not …” You stutter when he catches you looking like a deer caught in headlights. But all he does is let out a deep chuckle before reaching an arm out.

You stare at the arm that extends itself, eyes trailing up the limb as you gawk at his tattoos. He wasn’t one to flaunt, even though he didn’t pretend like he didn’t have any. So even your friends didn’t catch much of his tattoos unless he was at the gym or changing during practices with the way he practically lived in long sleeves. But now, it was just you and him, in your living room while he practically invites you over with his smile and doe eyes.

“Come ere’,” he mumbles as you continue to stare, “Next to me, please.”

You blink a few times when you realise that he’s beckoning you over with the arm that’s extended. You buffer for a second when he continues to smile at you with that easy grin of his, the one that’s both able to calm you and reduce you into a mess of nerves. But after a few beats, your limbs start moving at their own accord as you push yourself off the couch, slowly inching towards Jungkook and the empty spot next to him where you plop down into.

“Here?” You ask softly.

He laughs, and it’s a nice sound. Your mind had been muffled ever since he first showed up with that new hairstyle of his and that Godforsaken eyebrow piercing, and now when he looks at you like you were the only thing that he’s ever wanted—your heart can’t take it.

“Closer.” He encourages with a tilt of his head. Then, he delivers the final blow. “Just wanna hold you.”

You freeze, hands stilling on the plush of your couch as you were about to shift closer. The words are still processing in your mind even if you knew exactly what he said and what he meant. The heat on your face was definitely proof of that.

“Oh my God, don’t just say that!” You cry, burying your head into the back of the couch when you turn away from him.

Jungkook’s still laughing at you, hands clutching his stomach instead of trying to reach out for you as you whine into the fabric. He was killing you and your poor heart, and he was doing a damn good job at it. He didn’t need to do much because his presence was always enough to reduce you to absolutely nothing and a pile of mush.

It was this ambiguous back and forth that you’ve settled into with Jungkook after your last serious conversation that had your heart weaker and softer than ever. Every moment you spent with him, even in the crowd of your friends—you knew what you wanted. But there was still an irrational (and insecure) part of you that wanted to wait. To see if he actually meant his confession or was he driven by desperation to keep a friend close.

You should’ve had faith in Jungkook the way he blindly and willingly put in you. Even if you were the more unstable one between the two of you. But your mind worked endlessly to remind you of what the two of you shared, and who you had to share him with—and how she was everything that you weren’t.

“I’m sorry!” He laughs, and you feel a hand reach around your waist to tug you upwards as you squeak at his show of strength. “Was that too much?” He asks softly when you’re facing him, face definitely still flushed as you avoid his face and opt to stare at the chain around his neck.

Even that was making your insides feel funny.

“No …” You mumble, leaning forward until your forehead is pressed against his chest as his fingers drum against your waist. “I’m just shy.”

He chuckles.

“You don’t have to be shy.” He tells you, “It’s just me.”

You blink up and narrow your eyes at him.

“That’s not fair! You can’t just turn up to my house looking like—that—and expect me to be fine!” You huff, gesturing towards his entire frame as he simply listens with an amused raise of his brow.

He tilts his head to the side and even has the audacity to look confused when he smirks at you.

“Me? What did I do? It’s just hair dye and a piercing.”

You huff.

“It’s just hair dye and a piercing,” you repeat in a low voice, clearly meant to represent him as his face scrunches adorably at your impression of him.

“That’s not how I sound like.” He deadpans.

You stick your chin up snootily with a satisfied smile.

“You so do. You sound that dumb with what you just said.” You retort petulantly.

Jungkook stares at you for one long second before he’s pulling you flush against his chest with a wide grin on his face as he attempts to smother you with his arm. You squeal when you feel his fingers around your waist as he squeezes the flesh. He manoeuvres his way around your body until you’re perched on his lap, hands reaching out against his chest so that you could establish some distance (which you fail miserably at).

The room is filled with your gasps and Jungkook’s cackles, and with the way he’s crowding your body with his own—all you can smell is Jungkook. He smells fresh, as always. Especially since he chooses to opt-out of cologne and pays favourable attention to the type of laundry detergent, body wash and shampoo that he uses that gives him the boyish, clean and charming natural scent that he has. And it drives you insane.

So when you look up at him through your lashes in a break when Jungkook’s heaving at how he’s attempted to tickle you, and all you can see is how good he looks with his purple hair paired with the way he unconsciously licks at his lips to wet them; and the eyebrow piercing and tattoos. You melt—and so does your filter.

“Can I suck your dick?”

Granted, that isn’t a question you pose after he’s just tickled you in good faith while giggling away with his doe-eyes, or even the way his hands are placed at a respectful distance away from your bum. And it definitely isn’t a question that Jungkook’s expecting because his eyes shoot wide open, while his foot kicks up hard enough that it crashes against your coffee table.

“W-What?!” He cries, hands gripping your shoulder to push you away so that he can get a proper look at your face.

And it’s on fire.

But you can’t take back your words, especially when Jungkook’s looking like he demands some sort of explanation.

“I—I …” You stutter but your body is lax in his, and your thighs are still straddling Jungkook’s. You aren’t stupid or that naive, so you definitely know the firmness that presses against your inner thigh is a sign that he’s not opposed to your proposition.

Before you can say anything with how your mouth fails you, Jungkook snaps up until your foreheads nearly crash against each other as he presses his palms against your cheeks, staring you intently in the eye until you’re squirming under the scrutiny.

“I don’t hate it.” He assures you softly, but his eyebrows are furrowed. “But I need to hear it from you that you know what you’re saying.”

You blink at him and all Jungkook does is wait for you patiently. What were you saying? That you wanted to suck his dick? You did. You wanted to do a lot of things to and with Jungkook. Curse him for turning up looking the way he did and meddling with your restraint on needing time. But there was a brewing feeling of need in your chest that wants to please Jungkook, that wants to see him quiver under your tongue the way he has had you before. They weren’t all pleasant memories, purely because your poor heart has had to fight to disassociate your feelings from pleasure when you couldn’t do it.

But you’ve never made Jungkook feel good, at least in the way he was able to do for you.

“I-I—” you mumble, eyes darting everywhere but Jungkook’s gaze doesn’t waver at all. You take a deep breath, nibbling on your lips as your eyes dart up to the ceiling before they return to his face. He’s still waiting. “I want to. I really do.” You assure him, your own hands reaching out to clutch at his collar.

Jungkook’s cock twitches in his pants, and you feel it. You give an experimental swivel of your hips because you know it must feel good for Jungkook. And it does with the way his breath hitches, but his hands leave your face to grab at your hips to stop your motions. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, but all Jungkook does is sigh.

“You don’t have to …” he whispers, “I—you said you needed time and I don’t want to ruin this. What we have.”

You purse your lips.

“I know I said I needed time but I want to, Jungkook,” you tell him seriously, “What happened before was a product of our miscommunication but it’s different now,” your eyes are firm when they stare into his, your face leaning forward for emphasis, “Unless you don’t want me to—”

“Baby, no,” he reaches out to pull you closer to his chest, “I do. God—I can’t think of anything else but … I don’t want to fuck this up.” His eyes flutter shut as he rests his forehead against your breast bone. It’s not sexual at all, and you can hear the genuine frustration that laces Jungkook’s voice.

“You won’t,” you say softly, reaching a hand through his hair, “I want to learn. I want to learn how to make you feel good too.” You whisper.

Jungkook releases a low groan that makes your stomach clench in desire. You realise that throughout the escapades that the two of you have engaged in, you were the vocal one purely in the sense that you were whining, moaning and sobbing in pleasure at Jungkook’s doing. But Jungkook was vocal in the way he spoke to you. Even if it was mean and you found yourself crying after it happened because he pretended that you didn’t exist—there was something about the way he guides you through your highs in that raspy voice of his that made you cum harder each time.

“You’re serious?” He asks, finally looking up to confirm with you.

You nod your head.

“Dead.”

He nibbles on his lips, as his eyebrows scrunch in focus. He was heavily contemplating your offer and even if you never propositioned any male to suck his dick before, you’ve never heard of a case where they’d be hesitant to receive one. But you and Jungkook were different. You knew what you felt for him, and he knew what he felt for you—and somehow that made your odd request all the more important for the both of you.

“We’ll be okay, right?” He asks hesitantly, afraid. Your eyes soften as you nod.

“I want this, Jungkook.” You tell him again, and you’d repeat it as much as you can for him to know.

He sighs deeply.

“If at any point you feel … overwhelmed … just say the word and we’ll stop, okay?” He says, holding you by the shoulder while he hardens his eyes at you in seriousness. You nod your head as you scramble off his lap in a motion fast enough that Jungkook can’t process it.

Before the both of you know it, you’re on your knees, settled in between his legs as you peer up at him. Your heart was thundering in your chest because you had no idea what the fuck you were doing, but you wanted to do this. All because of that damn hair and piercing of his.

“Your knees,” he murmurs, attempting to tug you up but you’re stubborn when you stay rooted in position, eyebrows furrowed in determination as your jaw ticks.

“Isn’t this how it goes?”

“They’re going to hurt,” he points out.

You roll your eyes before narrowing them at him.

“Do you usually complain this much before you get your dick sucked or what?” You snap, patience wearing awfully thin.

Jungkook’s eyes widen at your blunt statement, especially when you reach out to rest your palms on his thighs.

“I don’t mean …” he mumbles, hands gripping the couch because he’s too afraid to touch you, “It’s not like that and you know it.”

You sigh, leaning your cheek against his kneecap and he feels his heart go into overdrive. It was different, with you. This wasn’t just another girl that wanted to suck his dick for his approval or whatever—this was the girl of his dreams, readily waiting to learn how he liked it. Though he’d argue that he’d like anything you do to him because his love-glasses blinded him that way. But there was still fear ebbing away at his heart, terrified at screwing it up even if you were the proposer in this case.

“Jungkook, I’m not going to disappear on you after this,” you say softly, still peering up at him, “I want this.”

Your heart tightens when he hesitantly reaches out to rest a hand between strands of your hair as he tilts your head upwards. Something about just sitting between his legs as they sprawl out wider to accommodate your body seems do domestic and intimate. Even the context of the situation makes you tingle from your fingertips all the way to your toes—you were here to learn, from Jungkook; on what he liked and didn’t.

You didn’t plan this. Admittedly you and Yena have talked on more than one occasion about how you really wanted to sleep with Jungkook—you didn’t have a timeline for it. It felt weird to put a date to it so you shoved the thoughts aside even if they popped up every once in a while. This just so happened to be one of those moments where your mind ventures into a more explicit territory whenever you were with Jungkook.

“I know you need time but …” his eyes flutter shut before he leans his head back into the seat—eyes staring up at the ceiling as if he was searching for answers that he didn’t have with himself. You wait because you suppose that’s the least you could do when you made him wait for you while you attempted to deal with your own feelings. When he looks down, his eyes are gentle yet resolute, “You know I love you, right?”

He sounds nervous even if he’s said it before. But the words don’t fail to make you flush or evoke the tremble in your ribcage—a signal from your body that tells you that it’s only Jeon Jungkook that could ever make you feel this way.

“God,” you huff, but the corners of your lip twitch and that’s enough to tell Jungkook that you did. You knew. “Can you teach me? Please?”

You’re pressing forward again, eagerly shifting on your knees as Jungkook takes one long look at you as if he was memorising this image to eternity. When he decides he’s satisfied, he rests into the seat before gently coaxing your hands away from his thighs and towards his—

“Start here,” he guides with a low voice, large palm encasing your smaller ones as you feel the metal of his zipper come into contact with your skin.

You blush, but you were an overachiever for a reason. The potential embarrassment of fumbling is tucked away in your mind, your only concern and fascination lie with the fact that Jungkook’s already hard that you feel him brush against your wrist.

“Don’t you need to get hard?” You ask softly.

Jungkook blinks before he’s giving you that devastating smile of his, the one where only one corner of his lips turn up into an amused grin while you tilt your head at him in an inquisitive manner.

“I’m really hard right now,” he assures you; and to prove his point, his hand guides yours over the outline of his cock. You gasp because it’s the first time you’ve felt anything but your own intimates in your grasp.

You involuntarily squeeze your thighs together, appreciating the way that Jungkook’s beginning to bite on his lips while he focuses his attention purely on you. You knew just from feeling alone that Jungkook was not your averagely-sized male.

“O-Oh,” you breathe when your hands begin to work at their own accord—slowly unbuttoning his jeans, working your way down the zipper. The entire time, you’re occasionally looking up for any signs of approval from Jungkook, the resolved student in you needing appraisal from your teacher. And he picks up on your prompts, smiling at you gently even as his breath begins to turn uneven at the way you’re still gently pulling his pants down.

“You’re doing great,” his hand cards through your hair until his thumb reaches your cheek, rubbing a gentle motion to be paired with his words.

You smile to yourself, feeling more confident to tug his jeans down his thighs. You knew that Jungkook was well-built, it was a fact given that he was an athlete who frequented the gym more than any place on campus. He had impeccable stamina, even before he took football seriously—but the way that his thighs clench under your clammy hands only prove your point. But all you can really focus on is the outline of his cock from his boxers.

“Can I …?” You ask hesitantly, reaching out to tug at the hem of his boxers.

Before you can do anything, his hand stops your wrist as you immediately pause in your ministrations. Your eyes widen, fully ready to pull away in case you did something wrong. What if he didn’t like it? What if he changed his mind or that you were bad—?

“Stop thinking,” he chides, “I want this. I love your hands, anything that you do,” he whispers in reassurance as you swallow. “How about you feel me first? Over the boxers. Baby steps.”

You exhale, nodding your head as your hand reaches to cup his length in your hand. You gasp in tandem with Jungkook, feeling the heat radiate from his dick as you give an experimental squeeze. You look up to gauge his reaction, and you suppose it’s good with the way his breath hitches. He doesn’t say anything and you take that as your cue to continue, your hand squeezing tighter upwards, right before your thumb rubs over what you think is the tip.

“It’s wet,” you blurt.

You’re about to hastily apologise because who the hell points that out before giving someone a blowjob?

“Yeah,” he releases a shaky breath, “I’m so hard right now you have no idea.” He laughs, throwing his head back.

You don’t say anything else, but you continue to work your way up and down his length over the cloth—and for some reason, you feel like it never ends. The heat from his cock, the stirring in your belly or the wetness that begins to accumulate between your own thighs. His hand rests in your hair in a gentle way, simply remaining there as he allows you to have your way on his cock.

That realisation makes you feel the need to go further, so you do. You squeeze until you reach the base of his cock, and you feel the outline of his balls. You briefly read online that some guys liked it when you squeezed—so you did. And Jungkook nearly lurches forward and knees you in the face when you do.

“Fuck, baby,” he chokes in a laugh.

“Sorry,” you mumble, but your heart isn’t there when you grin in satisfaction to yourself. The term of endearment doesn’t fall onto deaf ears either, and it shoots straight to your core.

Deciding that you weren’t happy with just fondling him above his boxers, in one swift motion; said fabric now drapes over his thighs and you’re welcomed with the sight of Jungkook’s engorged cock staring you straight in the face.

You assume it’s bad taste to just stare at someone’s intimates as if you were dissecting the anatomy right as you were about to get down to business. But you couldn’t help it. Jungkook had such a … pretty looking cock. You don’t know if penises could look aesthetic nor were you going to be superficial and say that penises should look a certain way. But he had such a pretty cock and it only made you want to shove it all the way down your throat. But your inexperience tells you to relax because you weren’t about to embarrass yourself like that.

“Do you … hate it?” Jungkook asks tentatively.

He wasn’t particularly an insecure person. He knew he was good looking and had a great body—he worked hard for it! But that’s because he never cared about anyone and what they had to say enough for it to affect his self-confidence. But you were the one person that he’s sought for validation ever since he was just a teenage boy, before the muscles and the confidence he’s developed over the years.

Especially when he was so hard that he thinks he’s going to bust a nut the second your mouth touches his cock—the way that you’re staring only makes him anxious.

“You’re really big,” you tell him, eyes peering up, “And pretty.”

Jungkook blushes. He can’t believe it but the fact that he’s the one that’s flustered when you were the ‘inexperienced’ one only goes to show how whipped he was. He almost laughs, but your hand is touching his bare cock and he nearly chokes at the firm grip you immediately take. He really almost laughs, because even now—you were a quick learner, an observant student who already probably knew what he liked.

Your hands twist upwards when you jerk him off, and Jungkook tries his best to keep his hips at bay even if he’s letting out low groans the tighter you squeeze. Your eyes occasionally dart up to observe his reactions, and you’re pleased to see that his mouth is slightly agape whenever his breathless pants leave them. You didn’t know that pleasuring someone else could feel this fulfilling for yourself—but you liked it. You liked the way he felt in your hand, the precum that oozes out from his tip that taints your fingers—and you especially liked the way his head is thrown back while the grip in your hair tightens simultaneously.

“You could spit on it,” his shaky voice interrupts your mental dialogue as you look up at him. He cocks his chin towards his cock as you were hyper-focused on his length. You note that you barely could wrap your fists around him and that you needed the help of both hands.

“Would you like that?” You ask.

He nods.

“It chafes when it’s dry,” he points out.

You open your mouth in acknowledgement as you nod your head slowly. You remember when he had spit on your pussy, and even if it was in the heat of the moment and you were already wet enough—you liked it. But you also note that the way you’re jerking him off his dry so you rev the spit up in the back of your throat before you lean forward, allowing the glob of spit to drop down his cock.

The breathless groan that he lets out immediately shoots to your core as you peer up at him. He’s already looking at you do, and you feel compelled to shoot him a small smile. And when you do, he groans even if your hands have momentarily stilled as you raise a brow at his reaction.

“How are you still so cute,” he huffs.

You blink.

“Are you really calling me cute right before I’m about to suck your dick?” You deadpan.

He sighs, but his hand rubs a gentle circle on your head.

“It’s a good thing,” he promises, “Can’t you feel how hard I am right now? You could breathe near my dick and I’d probably nut.”

You snort, even if the compliment is super boyish and very Jungkook—you feel your heart swell. You’re both terrified and how you’re reacting to his simple words, but the cheesy grin he sends you from above only makes your stomach feel lighter and your heart soar higher.

“So how do you like it?” You ask.

It’s a little too odd to be having this conversation as your hand continues to work lazily on Jungkook’s cock. He seems to not mind, especially when his hips occasionally buck upwards to chase the feeling. He blinks in an attempt to focus on your query and not how good your hand feels around him, even if it’s in a rest.

“How about you just start with the tip?” He suggests.

You nod your head before you lean forward, and you don’t know if Jungkook feels it—but your heartbeat is beating rapidly against your chest. You’re not … scared, but you’re also a little scared. Mostly because it’s a foreign territory and you’re unsure how it’d taste (even if Yena warned you from having high hopes). But Jungkook ate relatively healthy and drank a lot of water; and worked out regularly.

You finally kiss the tip, and Jungkook just about melts, cock twitching at the contact as you stick your tongue out to take a tentative lick of the precum that oozes out from his hip. It’s not pleasant, nor is it anything to puke over. You’re partial to it, mostly because you’re super turned on and you like the way that Jungkook seems to be eagerly waiting while his other fist that isn’t in your hair grabs at the couch in anticipation.

You don’t intend to be that erotic, but you don’t break eye contact even when you envelop the tip into your mouth. It’s the widest part of Jungkook, and it’s already a pleasant stretch to your lips when you run your tongue on the underside of his cockhead.

“Y-You sure you n-need me to—ah—teach you?” He asks breathlessly when you use your free hand to jerk the base of his cock.

You hum around his length, and Jungkook groans in tandem, hips jerking upwards in response as you feel his cock briefly drag against the roof of your mouth. He’s about to apologise, especially when he leans forward, but you briefly release him to shake your head.

“I’m a big girl,” you tell him with a grin.

Jungkook chuckles before resting back. He can’t quite believe that you’re on your knees right in front of him, sucking his dick like an obedient student. It’s eerily similar to many of his high school wet dreams, and it probably exceeds them with the way you’re sucking him back into your mouth; slowly inching your way further until you’re halfway down.

Your mouth is hot, and in fact—a dream. It’s probably the fact that it’s you that Jungkook feels all his senses be elevated in a way he’s never felt before. It was the way that his heart soars in his chest while his stomach caves in when he feels your tongue swipe under his shaft.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he croons, hand carding tenderly through your hair, “Be careful of your teeth.” He adds on when he feels the scrape of them against his cock.

He didn’t hate it, but he rather enjoys the softness of your mouth without the fear of you chewing his dick off.

You look up at him apologetically, but he only returns it with a half-hearted smile—purely because your hand is working its way on what you can’t fit into your mouth just yet. You’re an impeccable learner, and Jungkook thinks that he didn’t need to guide you at all with the way you’re doing everything just right. Or maybe it’s his love-sick mind that makes everything feel infinitely better. Maybe other guys wouldn’t like it—but his heart only drops when the thought arrives. He wanted to be the only person that could feel your mouth this way.

Your tongue is working hard when it continues to slobber against his cock. And he doesn’t know if you’re doing it on purpose, but you’re messy when you vacuum your cheeks—spit pooling at the sides of your mouth when you bob your head up and down. All Jungkook can feel is your mouth, and beads of sweat are already accumulating at his hairline while his breathing turns uneven with the only things escaping his lips are moans and groans.

You’re enjoying the way that Jungkook looks like he’s slowly losing control of himself and his tongue. All he’s doing is moaning, even the grip in your hair tightens when he unconsciously pushes your head further down on his cock. You realised that sucking dick wasn’t that theoretical as you thought it was. You were simply observant, gauged what made Jungkook’s breath hitch, what he didn’t react much to—and you knew for a fact that he appreciated the slobber.

And the spit. And the squelches of your lips meeting his cock. You did, too. It’s almost embarrassing to admit, but you were drenched just by observing Jungkook’s reactions. That only spurs you on further when you work harder, hand reaching down to cup his balls as you hear Jungkook release a breathy whimper. The sound immediately shoots to your core as you let out a moan of your own.

“Fuck,” he gasps, “You’re fucking evil.”

He’s breathlessly laughing, but you don’t let it hinder your actions. If anything, his words drive you further when you push his cock further into the cavern of your mouth, the gasp leaving his lips a sign that he probably didn’t expect that. You feel his stomach clench when you continue to bob your head up and down, and you’re giving yourself a mental pat on the back at the way you’re able to labour your own breathing through your nose. You were a natural if you did say so yourself.

“M’ gonna cum,” he mumbles through a moan, hand tightening around your hair as you take that as a sign to squeeze his balls harder. His hips jerk, hitting the back of your throat that has you briefly gagging around his cock. The visual and the sound sends Jungkook into overdrive, his balls feeling heavier by the second and in desperate need of release. He wants to apologise, but you don’t seem to mind with the way you continue to hollow your cheeks and function around his length.

“Where can I—fuck—where can I cum?” He rushes his words out, shallowly thrusting into your mouth as you hum around his cock.

He pulls out by pushing you back with a firm palm on your shoulder as your eyes widen, and when he’s shooting ropes of cum onto your face as it drips down your neck. You weren’t sure if he was supposed to cum that much, but it keeps on coming as you sit there obediently with your mouth open, in case it lands anywhere else. Jungkook’s groaning above you as he jerks himself off through the last bits of his orgasm, his hazy eyes darkening further when he spots the white that paints your face.

“I thought guys liked it if we swallowed?” You tilt your head to the side and Jungkook thinks he’s about to die.

“You’re actually going to kill me if you do that. So no. Not today.” He snorts, relaxing back into the couch as his post-nut clarity starts to hit him. He stares at the ceiling, feeling immensely satiated.

“This is like a facial at the spa,” you mention off-handedly as you climb up between his thighs, cum still staining your face. And Jungkook can’t believe it, but he thinks you look so cute painted with his cum. It’s a primal instinct the way that his eyes linger longer, feeling territorial with the way that he’s the only one that gets to see you like this.

“You’re so weird,” he snickers but you pout at him. And you do the next thing that gives Jungkook a heart attack.

Your tongue swipes over your lips where some cum remains, and even if his cock is flaccid—he feels it twitch in interest.

“Not bad. A little salty but overall … meh,” you shrug your shoulders as Jungkook gawks at you.

“You …” he trails off, “God.”

You smile up at him, all innocent as if you didn’t just give him the suck of his life—as your first time sucking dick.

“So? How was it?” You ask eagerly, leaning into his chest. He wants to ask about the cum that’s drying on your face, but you don’t seem to mind. You were so weird, but that only makes his heart grow fonder.

“Do you conduct feedback sessions after every blowjob?” He asks sarcastically.

You roll your eyes, “Do you want me to? I mean—I could offer my services elsewhere—”

Jungkook pinches your hip in retaliation, the insinuation making him growl as you snicker. He can only stare at you in amusement, especially when you’re still grinning up at him. Gone was the shy girl that proposed this, even if he noticed the flush on your cheeks and on the tip of your ears. It was insane how you took a one-eighty, but Jungkook appreciated it. He appreciated you.

“Ten out of ten. Magnificent. Absolutely life-changing. Thought I saw the gates of heaven for a second.” He teases.

You roll your eyes but a small smile appears on your face as you glance down to fiddle with your fingers. Jungkook can only stare at you, and he can’t fully describe this feeling but his heart feels so … full. So completed, even if you sucked his dick. He’s always felt this way, but there was something about you being wrapped in his arms after you had his dick in your mouth that made Jungkook go crazy. Crazy enough for him to blurt out the next thing on his mind.

“I want to be with you.” He blurts.

Your eyes dart up in shock as they widen. But Jungkook is as resolute as ever, a dopey grin still on his face.

“W-What?” You stutter.

He reaches for your hand, still slightly sticky with the slick from his cock but he doesn’t care. Not when you intertwine your fingers with his so seamlessly, so easily like you were meant to do so.

“I want to be with you. In whatever way you want to have me.” He murmurs, peering straight into your eyes.

Your heart stutters in your chest as you try to find the words to respond with. But you can’t. Your mind is still recovering from what you just did, and your heart is soaring. But there’s a part of you that’s hesitant. You knew it was unfair, for making Jungkook wait—but you were still scared. You were scared that he’d get bored of you, or what the two of you share one day. He may be ready to leave it all behind, but you don’t think you could deal with having to say goodbye to Jungkook in that way.

And it’s as if he can read your hesitation, he brings your intertwined hands to his lips before pressing a kiss to your knuckles, eyes still soft when they remain on your frozen state,

“I’ll wait,” he says softly, “For as long as you need me to. Until you’re ready.”

“J-Jungkook …” you mumble, flustered when you look away.

He nudges his nose against your cheek, pressing a smile to your jaw as you hum in embarrassment.

“I fucked up.” He says. You’re about to interrupt but he seems to have his own things to say. “I said things that hurt you. I did things that hurt you and I can’t ever forgive myself for that. I know you’re not punishing me and I never once thought that way. Even if that isn’t the case, the least I can do is wait. Not only because of what I did but because no matter what—I want to do this right this time.”

He looks up to you and his gaze is so earnest that it makes the words get trapped in your throat while you stare at him.

He smiles, soft and gentle when he rubs a thumb across your cheek.

“I’m serious about this. About you. Even if you decide that you don’t want this or that your feelings have changed … I’ll still be here.”

Jungkook takes your breath away as you gape at him. The silence he leaves you with only makes you reaffirm your stance on how you feel for him. Yet, you can’t give him an answer now. Not when your mind still remains hesitant, and Jungkook didn’t deserve hesitant. Even if he’s hurt you—he didn’t deserve your confusion. Neither of you did.

You lean into him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. It’s intimate this way, the way that his cum dries on your face and that his dick is still out. It’s almost funny, but Jungkook wouldn’t have it any other way. He’d wait—for as long as he had to. And he’d do it over and over again, for you.

[sinner-as-saint]

‘yes daddy.’

Sambucky x Reader 

Run-through: The two soldiers make their way home to you after a long and tiring mission; knowing that only you can take their mind off things and help them wind down. The mission was lengthy and exhausting, leaving them both grumpy and frustrated. And they don’t plan on being gentle with you either… 

Themes: smut, threesome, fluff, sambucky, dirty talk, language, daddy kink

a/n: this is pure filth. I’m not sorry. 

“Stop squirming, kitten. Be good for daddy.” 

Sam’s smooth, deep voice whispered in your ear, making your core tremble in more ways than one. You could only whine in response, throwing your head back onto Sam’s shoulder as you felt the overwhelming sensation in between your legs. It was growing, more and more, taking over you. It had been for the past hour. But in the back of your head you knew you weren’t allowed to cum just yet. Bucky pushed the vibrator further into you, his lips parted and a playful look in his wild blue eyes as he watched you writhe under him. 

“Please daddy… please…” you whined. Desperate and your body damp with sweat. Your mind was a foggy mess. “I’m sorry…” you mumbled out an apology. 

Sam scoffed at your weak apology. “You’re doing so well babygirl,” Bucky murmured, “but you’re not allowed to cum, not after being such a bad little girl while Sam and I were away.” 

Behind you, at Bucky’s words, you felt Sam’s grip tightening on your wrists; keeping them secure in his grasp at your lower back, while his other hand reached around and fondled your breasts. You moaned as Bucky turned the vibrator up and placed it right on top of your entrance, making your legs shake as you tried to close them. But he was kneeling right in between them, with his metal arm pressing your hips down on the bed, so there was not much you could do. You had nowhere to escape, you absolutely had to endure the sweet torture. You earned it. 

Sam and Bucky were gone for 2 weeks, on a long mission. And they left one rule for you to follow - you were not to touch yourself, or pleasure yourself sexually in any way because that was “their job.” Did you abide by it? Absolutely not. And you were also careless enough to leave all your toys out in the open - which was the first thing they saw once they stepped into your shared bedroom. So now you were being ‘punished’. 

You whined in pleasure, but Bucky quickly shut you up by pushing his metal fingers past your lips. “Aww, what is it baby? Is it too hard to hold back?” he cooed and pulled his fingers out and then pushed them back in again. “Well then you should’ve been a good girl when you were asked to.” Bucky taunted, smirking and wiggling the wand a little and making you whine louder. And to add on to your sweet torture, Sam trailed his hand down from your chest to your core and gently circled your clit with his two fingers. 

“You made us a promise, kitten. Then you went on and broke it.” Sam growled in your ear as he unexpectedly smacked you right on your clit, making you bite your lip and moan loudly. “When did you start acting like such a brat, huh?” his fingers circled your clit lazily as he spoke, “Maybe we’ve been too easy on you, isn’t it?” he nibbled on the shell of your ear, “Spoil you too much, don’t we kitten?” 

His voice made your damp body tremble. You were aching, desperate, your body burning with desire and need. But the soldiers were hell bent on teaching you a lesson. Your thighs trembled as Bucky messed with you. He changed the setting on the wand, making it more intense while Sam teased your clit, and tilted your head back and kissed you like he owned you; pushing his tongue past your lips and stroking the top of your mouth. You whimpered in pleasure. 

Bucky pulled his fingers from your mouth and grabbed your jaw rather harshly, making you open your eyes and face him. “Sam’s right. We’ve been spoiling you too much.” you shivered at the tone of his voice. Deep. Angry. Hot. He held your stare as he spoke, making you whine just from the intensity of his eyes. “From now on, you’re gonna have to beg nicely for everything.” He scoffed. 

Bucky moved the vibrator around while Sam kissed down your neck. You felt the pressure forming in between your legs, again and you desperately tried to chase your orgasm. Bucky noticed and lifted the vibrator off you, denying you your release yet again. You cried out, hazy with lust, “Please daddy, I’ll be a good girl I promise…” 

You earned yourself a smack on your thighs from Sam. “Quiet.” he growled in your ear, “You’re gonna take everything that we give you, you hear me?” Sam’s voice reverberated and it gave you chills even despite being trapped in between their body heat. “Answer me, kitten.” he said, sternly. 

You gasped at the tone he used. “Yes, daddy.” 

“Good girl.” 

 You were a mess trapped in between them. Your moans muffled either by one of their mouths on yours, or their fingers pushed inside your mouth trying to keep you quiet. Tears of frustration streamed down your face as they kept teasing you; keeping you right on the edge but not letting you come undone. You were a tear-stained mess in no time. They had been teasing you relentlessly for God knows how long now. With toys, their mouths, their hands, Sam even made you ride his thigh at some point all while Bucky teased you with his cold, metal fingers until you were a whimpering mess, unable to speak coherently. 

“Did you learn your lesson baby? Do you promise to be a good girl now and listen to daddy?” Bucky asked as Sam wiggled the wand around. They had switched positions at some point and they could both tell that you had reached your limit and you couldn’t take it anymore. 

You nodded quickly, forcing your eyes open to look into Sam’s mesmerising dark brown eyes. “Say it kitten, say you’re sorry.” he whispered, leaning down to kiss you briefly. You moaned into the kiss and whimpered as he pulled away. 

“I’m sorry daddy,” you cried. “I’ll be good I promise, just please-,” you cut yourself off by moaning loudly when Sam tossed the toy aside and replaced it with his warm mouth. 

His tongue slowly circling around your throbbing clit and licking down, parting your wet folds with ease. He poked at your entrance with his tongue and your body felt hotter than earlier. You felt his tongue stroke your most sensitive parts. “I missed tasting your sweet little cunt so much…” he looked up at you and found you with your eyes shut, head thrown back in pleasure. “Look at me.” He ordered and the authority in his voice made you tremble. 

You looked down in between your legs and found Sam settle in between them. His strong arms wrapped around your thighs as he ate you out like a mad man, unrestrained and focused on making you lose your mind. Meanwhile, Bucky turned your head to the side, kissing you without a care in the world while he pinched and toyed with your nipples. You moaned into his mouth and you could feel him smirk into the kiss. 

“Too much, is it babygirl?” he mumbled against your lips as he felt your body tremble against him. Sam was relentless and you weren’t going to last too long and they both knew that. You nodded at Bucky with a pleading look on your face, feeling the pressure build nicely in between your hips again. 

“Please…” you cried out, whimpering and begging them to take you already. You could no longer deal with this teasing. Sam smirked as he kissed along your inner thighs before getting back to where you needed him the most. Your arousal coated the lower half of his face, but he didn’t mind it one bit. You whined and whimpered; with your legs wrapped around his head. 

“Come for me kitten, come for daddy.” Sam whispered against your wet folds, his warm breath making you shiver. His piercing eyes watched you cautiously as you let go and came all over his tongue, moaning and whimpering as you did. 

Bucky growled as he watched you come undone, he could no longer take it either. He barely gave you enough time to recover as he positioned you in between him and Sam again. 

You found yourself on all fours in the middle of the bed, with Sam in front of you; his cock in your mouth while Bucky pushed into you from behind. Sam groaned as you took him into your mouth as much as you could; he held your face gently and watched you intently with parted lips how you took him so perfectly. He grunted and hissed in pleasure as struggled just a little to fit him into your mouth.

Bucky was just as focused; your soaking cunt wrapped around his cock perfectly, your walls inviting him in just how he liked it. “Fuck… babygirl you feel so tight around daddy’s big cock.” Bucky mumbled as he pulled out and pushed all the way back into you. His actions caused your mouth to move along Sam’s thick cock and that elicited a loud groan out of him. 

You looked up at Sam, and your walls clenched around Bucky as the noises left his mouth. Sam held your face gently and slowly pushed himself deeper in and out of your mouth. You bobbed your head around his tip; taking him in until he hit the back of your throat. You felt all of him; his smooth skin, his raw taste, and you repeated your actions again and again, hollowing your cheeks when needed. Bucky pounded into you from behind. He groaned and grunted as he filled you up entirely; your ass cheek pressing into his pelvic bone as he rammed his cock in and out of you incessantly; groaning and grunting as your warmth wrapped around him perfectly.

Sam came first, coming undone all over your tongue and watching you swallow all of him, while Bucky sped up into you, chasing his orgasm as well. He moaned when he felt your walls clench around him, squeezing and milking him as he went. You felt the familiar pressure forming again in no time, given you were already so desperate and needy. Sam finally pulled his cock from your mouth and tugged on your hair so you looked up at him. Your whole body shook as Bucky pounded relentlessly into you from behind. Sam smirked as he looked into your eyes.

“You secretly love being treated like this, don’t you kitten?” Sam whispered, and half of his words didn’t even make sense because Bucky was fucking your brains out at the same time. Sam smirked. You couldn’t hold back anymore, Bucky was stretching you out just how you liked it and it was hard to hold back anymore. “Beg for it, come on.” Sam let go of your face and you whimpered at the loss of his warm touch. 

So you begged. Wantonly, without any shame. 

“Daddy, may I please come?” you whined, closing your eyes and leaning forward, pressing your forehead to Sam’s abdomen. 

Bucky grunted, and you felt his cock throb against your walls. You tightened around him, and he groaned, “Cum for me babygirl,” he whispered under his breath before coming undone just seconds later; buried deep within you; growling and mumbling profanities as he came. 

You came right after, moaning and trembling between them both. Sam caressed your face and wiped your tears away as you allowed your orgasm to wash over you. Your body trembled. You could still feel Sam’s in your mouth while Bucky pulled out and watched his cum trickle out of you and onto the sheets. You were panting and whimpering, and luckily they held you up otherwise you would have collapsed on the bed completely. 

Sam grabbed you by the shoulders and held your trembling body against his warm one. “You okay, kitten?” he whispered in your ear as you hid your face into the crook of his neck. Your heart was still racing, and your body was throbbing but you nodded. 

“Thank you daddy.” you added. Sam wrapped his strong arms around you but given by the way he chuckled, you could tell they weren’t entirely done with you yet. 

And that’s how you found yourself trapped in between the two soldiers you loved so much. Sam was behind you while Bucky was in front. Bucky gripped your hips and settled your body right in between him and Sam. You could tell by the look in their eyes that they couldn’t wait to fuck you at the same time.

You whimpered, your core throbbing and sore but ready for them at the same time. Your heart raced like crazy. You were worn out, but desperate still. Sam went first; he lathered his cock with the lube and toyed with your hole for a bit before he pushed his thick cock slowly into you. The lube made it easier for him to fill you up and he had you whimpering and moaning in no time. Your moans were shameless and obscene.

You whimpered and you leaned forward and rested your forehead on Bucky’s shoulder to steady yourself, but before you could catch your breath and adjust to Sam’s size, Bucky guided his cock over to your folds and pushed himself into you as well. 

All three of you moaned at the same time once they were both seated into you. You felt your holes stretching with both of their cocks inside of you and you felt so full that you could barely talk. You gripped Bucky’s arm tightly and leaned your head back onto Sam’s shoulder. Trying to accommodate both of them inside you was always exciting and your ability to think straight was long gone.

Sam placed a gentle kiss on your temple and you felt his hands grip your waist as he moved in and out of you gently. Bucky kissed along your jaw and down your neck as he did the same. They moved in and out of you with a comfortable pace which created a momentum; granting all of you the pleasure you desperately needed. Especially you, given they had teased you for hours probably. 

Your walls clenched equally tight around each of them and the wet sounds your bodies made were sinful enough to make you almost lose your mind. Sam bit down on your shoulder, whispering how good you felt while his arm tightened around you and he firmly placed his palm against your abdomen, right above your core. He could feel each one of Bucky’s thrust and the bulge which formed each time Bucky’s thick cock filled you up. So did you; moaning at how full you felt.

“This will teach you better than to break our rules, babygirl.” 

All you could focus on was their voices, their moans and their body heat as it wrapped around you. They knew just what you needed, and they gave you just that without any shame. They both moved perfectly against you, your heart beats and breaths in sync. You felt the pressure growing in between your legs again, and you could no longer hold it back anymore. 

“You’re close, aren’t you?” 

You were sensitive and needy. You felt your walls clenching around both of them, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head while you came violently around both of them. You cried out; with actual tears streaming down your face and you whimpered as they kept going even after you came; pounding into you from both sides and chasing their own release. The sounds of the moans and grunts coming from them made your body tingle, and you throbbed still.

Bucky came right after you with a loud moan, which you could swear was the hottest thing you ever heard. Sam came after both of you, panting as he carefully slipped out of you; letting his cum drip down your skin again. You whimpered when Bucky pulled out of you, you felt his cum oozing out of your folds and dripping down your thighs.

Your body felt heavy and limp, so you just leaned back against Sam while Bucky kissed your lips roughly. You were sure you would be sore even tomorrow. Sam wrapped his arms tightly around you and kissed your temple. “You did so well, baby.” he whispered against your skin and kissed the side of your face.

 --

You woke up the next morning still trapped in between the two men, under the covers this time. Limbs tangled with one another but that was okay. You smiled as you felt their hands on you. Both of their arms wrapped around you and holding you close to them. You opened your eyes and found that they were both still asleep. So you tried to wiggle your way out of their grip and out of bed so you could go downstairs and make them a big breakfast since it was their first day back. 

But as soon as you moved a bit, you felt both of their arms tighten around you. You groaned in defeat, given you wouldn’t be able to surprise them with breakfast anymore. 

“Where do you think you’re going, baby?” Sam mumbled and pulled you back to where you were initially, close against his warm chest. 

“Running away?” Bucky whispered and leaned in to kiss your forehead, scooting closer to you and Sam. 

“Nooo,” you protested, bringing both of their hands up to your lips so you could kiss their knuckles. “I was gonna make breakfast.” 

Bucky smiled sleepily at you. “There’s no need, baby. We can go out for breakfast later. Come here,” he pulled you into him, Sam’s arm still around you. “I missed you so much. We both did.” he confessed. 

“I missed you too. Both of you.” you mumbled against his neck. “And I’m sorry I broke our rule.” you pouted, but then giggled when you felt Sam gently tickling your sides. 

“It’s okay baby, you’re forgiven.” Sam whispered and kissed the back of your neck. “As always, you little brat.” 

“At least try to hide it when you’re being a little rebel next time, okay?” Bucky taunted, and he earned himself a dirty look and a pout from you. He laughed when he saw it. Sam chuckled as well. 

“You guys are mean.” you tried to get up again but they pulled you back into bed and tickled the hell out of you until you were crying laughing and gasping for air. 

Sure, they were a handful. But you were glad they were home, finally.

[omg-imagine]

Distraction

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand x female!V

Summary: Johnny distracts V the best way he knows how.

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: language, smut (oral + rough sex, choking)

A/N: Please don’t mind the weak plot, this was just an excuse to write p*rn featuring the only character I want to romance in the game but can’t. Also, for the sake of this fic, let’s just say he can touch V and vice versa :)) Hope you enjoy!

V was pissed.

No, she was beyond pissed.

And when V’s beyond pissed, she’s sure to let the whole fucking world know.

“Tone it down, princess,” Johnny cuts in once he’s heard enough of her long-winded rant.

V stops her relentless pacing around the apartment and shoots a menacing glare towards the rocker.

“I warned you not to take that job from the start. Now, look at you, bruised up from head to toe, and cheated out of your eddies.”

“That son of a bitch promised me half the cut,” V recalls bitterly, her chest heaving from the fierce anger spreading all throughout. “I’m gonna make sure Cruz regrets asking me for help.”

The merc stalks off to her stash, muttering low under her breath how she plans on raising hell the next time she crosses paths with him. As V polishes her guns (something she typically does to calm herself), Johnny approaches the small room to the side with the same cocky attitude that would surely piss her off even more.

He can’t help himself at times; he sure does love pushing V’s buttons.

“You done whining or what?”

Rolling her eyes, V turns her head to see Johnny standing there as he takes a drag on his cigarette. Normally, she doesn’t mind him smoking around her, but after an exhausting night where things didn’t work out in her favor, she was quickly reaching her boiling point. “You better clean up all that ash on the floor when you’re done.”

“Since when did you start caring about this shithole of an apartment being neat?” Johnny comments, more so as a tease, and this earns him another scowl. “Don’t waste your energy on Cruz. He’ll get what’s coming to him.”

“Didn’t know you believed in karma,” V adds, narrowing her eyes.

Devilishly, he smirks at her, tossing the cigarette butt to the floor then crushing it with his shoe. “Hon, there’s a lot of things you still don’t know about me.”

“Yeah,” she agrees before brushing past Johnny. “I’m heading out.”

His figure glitches momentarily, reminding V that he was nothing but a ghost residing in her mind, despite how real he feels. Even if she wants to leave this “shithole of an apartment” for some semblance of peace and quiet, she knows Johnny will only follow. He’s tethered to her for what could possibly be the rest of her life.

And yet, no matter how big of an asshole Silverhand was, she’s grown fond of his presence.

Not that she would mention it out loud. Ever.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Out,” V simply states, wondering what the point in Johnny asking her that question when he could easily find it out for himself was.

It’s truly unfair how he can read her thoughts, but she can’t read any of his.

He chuckles low. “Gon’ pay a joy toy to fuck tonight?”

“No, I’m going out for a drive, distract myself from that shitshow earlier. You better leave me alone.”

“Well, I’m a little insulted,” Johnny snorts, feigning offense. “I thought you liked my company.”

“I’m tired of your company. You never shut that mouth of yours.”

Before V could head to the door, she feels a metal hand encircling her wrist, holding her in place. She glances behind her, meeting Johnny’s deep, dark eyes, which hid a multitude of secrets. It’s been a while since she has felt a touch that wasn’t full of malice. Though his palm is cold from the material it’s made out of, a distinct heat spreads through her body—

It was a familiar warmth, one that radiates from V at his mere touch.

And when Johnny’s lips curl into a shit-eating grin, she knows that he has sensed it too.

“Shut my mouth? I think I can do something else much better than that.”

Johnny’s gravelly voice fuels the desire burning deep within V as he pulls her closer, her feet moving at their own accord. “God, I wish you came with an off-switch.”

“Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying this little game we’ve been playing.”

V doesn’t respond, her pulse quickening with anticipation. She lets out a shuddering moan when Johnny leans in, his hot breath grazing her silky skin before his lips crash against hers, possessively. He floods V’s senses all at once as he hungrily kisses her, letting him take the reins.

It would be a lie for V to say she’s never pictured a moment like this. A moment where she finally succumbs to Johnny’s charm and allows him to lay claim on her. It’s always been a constant dance between the two, a chemistry disguised as indifference, a craving left unspoken. Amidst the degrading insults and the snarky attitudes, deep down, they have always wanted the same thing—

To fuck each other’s brains out.

“Still tired of my company, V?”

“Just shut the fuck up for once and take off your pants.”

The grin on his face hasn’t disappeared. It only grows broader. “Ask, and you shall receive.”

Johnny roughly grabs V at the waist, his fingers curling underneath the hem of her shirt as he pushes her towards the bed. His mouth latches onto her neck, no doubt marking her for all of Night City to see.

They fell onto the mattress without finesse, similar to how V kisses Johnny feverishly, all tongue and teeth. Void of tenderness and only driven by the urgency of lust. She was too distracted by her want to care for the taste of tobacco from his last smoke. The hands traveling every inch of V’s frame lights up a fire in her, bringing a high that no drug on the black market could ever do.

Surprisingly, Johnny allows her to take the lead for a bit when she straddles him, his hardening cock pressing up against her aching cunt. She gages his reaction as she grinds on his clothed erection, a wicked smile forming to the sight of him being teased.

“You like that, huh? Fuck, I can’t wait to have you inside of me.” She feels herself growing wetter and wetter, losing patience just as swiftly as the man under her.

Without warning, Johnny flips them both over, the length of his body now pressed against hers from above. He wastes no time peeling V’s shirt and bra off, pausing for the briefest of seconds to admire her bare breasts. His cybernetic hand squeezes one soft mound as his lips descend on the other. She moans, and they were pure music to his ears, sounds that were so beautiful he could write endless songs about them.

“J-Johnny,” V stutters out his name, unable to contain herself anymore. She doesn’t remember the last time someone has quickly reduced her into a mess, and desperately she wanted, needed more.

The way his name trembles from her mouth drives Johnny into a frenzy, simpering at the fact he really hasn’t done much yet, but it was enough to leave V quivering. She looks too sinful beneath Johnny, too delectable. He’s well-aware of how long she’s gone without sex, and he’s now bent on ending that sad streak of hers.

Hastily, Johnny removes V’s pants and underwear in one quick go, his gaze devouring her beauty like a starved man staring at his meal. “Wow, you’re fucking drenched down there.”

“Fuck,” she gasps, one hand reaching forward to grip at his lengthy locks as soon as he delves in to taste her dripping nectar for the first time.

“You enjoying yourself there, baby?” Johnny’s inquiry needs no response. He could already tell she is solely by the way her eyes flutter shut, her head lolling to the side.

One lick. Two licks. Three. He surely knew how to work that deft tongue of his.

Johnny’s cock continues to throb in the confines of his trousers as his lips encircle V’s swollen bud, but he doesn’t end there. She wants more, and he’s willing to give her just that.

More.

V squirms when two chrome fingers enter her heat, stretching out her walls to prepare her for the serious pounding coming up. She’s lost in the sensations, unable to form a coherent thought or word. Johnny’s tempo was slow at first; tantalizing, nearly torturous. But once he starts moving faster, pumping even harder and reaching that sweet, sweet spot of hers, she begins to pant wildly as she fucks herself on his hand to get more friction.

“Holy shit, you’re a goddess,” he croaks after pulling back to study the needy woman looking back at him through half-lidded eyes. V is tight around his fingers, and he could only imagine how it would be like with his cock buried deep inside her instead.

Each rough stroke of Johnny’s digits against her wet walls brought V closer and closer to the brink of orgasm, her moans increasing in both volume and frequency. He urges her to let go, whispering into her ear how he wants to see and feel her coming. The gruffness in his tone turned her on even more, and V soon finds herself falling over the precipice, flushing hot with euphoria as Johnny watches, awestruck.

Satisfied, he beams at his work, which was only half of what he intends to do this evening. Being gracious, Johnny gives V an ample minute to recover, using the downtime to wipe the glistening wetness coating his beard before tasting the juices he’s collected.

Delicious, he thinks. She tastes as good as she looks.

V eventually comes back to her senses, propping herself up on her elbows as she gazes at Johnny with an almost dazed expression. “Perhaps the rumors are actually true.”

“Which one?” Silverhand asks, ridding himself of his clothes at the foot of her bed.

V pauses prior to answering, the sound of metal clinking filling the air as he unbuckles his belt, stripping off his leather pants afterwards.

“That you’re the best pussy eater in town,” she then reveals, glancing up briefly to see the smug look on his face before her gaze falls to his groin again.

Of course, Johnny chooses to go commando, and no, she wasn’t shocked at all.  

Silently, she marvels at the dick nestled in a thick bush of dark hair. Girthy and long with a slight curve upwards, the thought of it being inside her, barely fitting, made her mouth water. He wasn’t lying when he casually mentioned having an impressive cock.

It definitely did not disappoint.

“Oh sweetheart, that was nothing,” Johnny declares before climbing back on top of V, settling in between her legs. “The main act is just beginning.”

She doesn’t wait for Johnny to kiss her. In an instant, V’s lips were on his, her tongue pushing into his mouth, faintly tasting herself at the same time. Meanwhile, Johnny grips the base of his leaking cock, rubbing its engorged head against her slick folds that had her breathing heavily. V cants her hips impatiently, and through their kiss, he chuckles at her eagerness.

“So desperate for my cock, aren’t you?” Johnny husks mockingly. “How badly do you want me, slut? I wanna hear you say it.”

A moan escapes her throat at his words as he rubs his tip against her clit. V wants him so, so bad that she’s begging incessantly, something she never does in any of her past fucks. Usually, she was in complete control, never the one to relinquish her power.

Maybe that was the reason why V was utterly drunk with pleasure from this steamy session with Johnny. It’s good not to be in control for once.

“Shit, Johnny. Please, just fuck me already. Fill me up,” V pleads, now helpless at this point. She has to come again, this time around his cock. She repeats her keening over and over again, hoping that it was enough to feed into Johnny’s ego and finally show her mercy.

“Well, since you asked so nicely…”

Tugging at his cock, Johnny forces V’s legs to spread wider as she waits for him, mesmerized. Her pussy was soaked from his ministrations, but when he starts pushing into V, the burning stretch of her walls trying to accommodate his thick length leaves her in tears.

Those tears, however, weren’t entirely from the pain. V was also shedding tears because of how full Johnny makes her feel.

“Fucking hell, V,” he groans as she clamps down on him. “You’re so fucking tight. Damn, why didn’t we do this sooner?”

“We were too busy pretending to hate each other,” V replies, digging her nails into Johnny’s back when he begins to move.

His thrusts are slow but rough— as if he’s getting accustomed to the wondrous feeling of being inside of V. It doesn’t last long, though. Johnny has always been a hard and fast kind of guy, the one that does two or three more rounds before passing out. He’s bragged about his amazing stamina as well, and despite V believing she could match it, she probably won’t be able to tonight.

Not when he’s fucking her into the mattress like this for their very first time together.

Johnny’s brutal pace doesn’t falter. He pounds into V harder, faster, rougher; as if his life depends on it, the obscene sounds of flesh slapping against flesh bouncing off every corner of the room. His slick pre-come mixes with her honeyed essence, allowing him to seamlessly reach the depths of her center. Sweat drips down the side of his face as he maneuvers his mechanical hand to wrap around V’s delicate neck, adding pressure when she doesn’t resist.

“That’s it, baby,” Johnny growls next to her ear, rolling his hips as he squeezes her throat tighter. “You’re making me feel so good. I’ve always known you were a dirty whore.”

V’s gasping and thrashing, but she doesn’t want him to stop. She loves the rush of blood through her head far too much, especially with Johnny slamming harshly into her. It gives her a thrill she has never experienced with anyone else. Pretty sure he’s ruining her for others.

But whether this was part of his intentions or not, V doesn’t know. Nor she cares enough to figure it out.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl for me, V. Look at you, taking all of my cock like the fucking slut you are. You’ve wanted this for a while, haven’t you? You practically dream about me every night, and don’t you deny it.”

She doesn’t. Johnny was right, though it doesn’t really matter at this very second. His hold on V loosens for her to speak, and she inhales as much air her lungs could possibly take. She could feel it again, the ultimate high she’s been chasing once more. Johnny’s shaft dragging against her pulsing walls brings her even closer to it, building up the pleasure rising in the pit of her stomach.

“I-I’m close,” V warns, the pressure inside her threatening to break free. “Shit, Johnny, I’m gonna come soon.”

Johnny’s hips jerked harder, causing V to cry out. “Yeah? You’re gonna come? Don’t worry, I’m gonna make sure you come on my cock.”

Halting, he drapes her left leg over his shoulder, allowing him to slide in deeper than he has before. Johnny then pushes his metallic thumb into V’s mouth, and without prompt, she swirls her tongue around it, coating it with her saliva. Not missing a beat, his movement resumes, all bruising and all punishing. He brings his wetted finger on her sensitive pearl, stroking it as if he’s playing his guitar on stage.

The change in angle proves to be the final straw for V, who’s litany of high-pitch moans spurs Johnny to fuck her even more forcefully. Again and again, she takes everything he gives her, and in turn, she encourages him to follow her into the abyss. Her pussy caresses his cock with every frantic push and pull, and she notices how he’s gradually picking up speed, losing his rhythm in the process.

“Your cunt belongs to mine now,” Johnny mutters, gritting his teeth, and it’s becoming clear to V that he’s holding back just for her. “Come on, V. Let go, let go for me.”

Lust-blown eyes lock with V’s own, wordlessly urging her one last time to come undone. Several sharp thrusts later, she finds herself clenching around Johnny’s cock, her orgasm shooting through her like a rain of bullets. Unabashedly, V shouts as her vision whitens, intense waves of ecstasy washing over her shaking body. She’s too absorbed in bliss to realize right away that Johnny was still in her, dick hard and ready for a similar release.

Once she finds her bearings, V grinds her hips against Johnny’s, and immediately, his nails dig into her as he begins to move inside her yet again.

“Don’t stop, Johnny,” she purrs, watching him fuck her with both fast and long strokes. “I want you to cum deep inside me, baby. Shit, I want it so badly. Please, give it to me. Please…”

With a strained moan, Johnny suddenly climaxes, snarling as he shoots searing ropes of his thick, creamy cum into V, painting her inner walls with white. His features contort with pleasure as he throws his head back, his breathing shallow and ragged. When his heart rate returns somewhat back to normal, he slowly pulls his softening cock out, smirking at the sight of his load dripping out of her.

Afterwards, he flops down beside V with a huff, joining her as she stares blankly up at the ceiling. Johnny clears his throat as he shifts closer to V, who instinctively rests her head on his chest. His cyber arm curls around her, and she sighs deeply, seemingly content.

“How about that for a fucking distraction?” He says, recalling how the two of them got here in the place. “Don’t even have to go on a ride to clear your mind. Feel free to ride me instead.”

V laughs at his jest. “It was a great fuck, the best one I’ve ever had if I’m honest. But I’m still going after Cruz.”

Johnny hums in response, seeing V’s weary eyes growing heavier. “Fine, but just to let you know, what happened between us isn’t a one-time thing.”

“Fuck, I hope not. You’re stuck with me till the end of the world, buddy.”

“It’s a good thing you have an amazing pussy then.”

V smacks him lightly as exhaustion begins to take over. Sure, she was still pissed she didn’t get her eddies, but at least now she knows the prick named Johnny Silverhand was surprisingly a cuddler.

And that piece of information was worth gold.

Permanent Tags:   @penwieldingdreamer @keandrews @feminine-machinegun @fanficsrusz @thehumanistsdiary @flaminasteroid @rowserein​ @unaspiringwritings​ @planetkt​ @breakthenight​ @baphometwolf666 @rdjloverxxx

[arvinsescape]

could you do a dom!tom x dom!zendaya x sub!reader threesome 🌚

A/N: Sorry it took me a few days to get back to you but I finally finished it and I enjoyed writing it! I hope it was what you were looking for, it’s pretty lengthy (3K words) but I still hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for this request, i really hope you enjoy.

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (Minors do not engage), Oral (Fem R), fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it up people), over stimulation, slight orgasm denial, pretty much pure smut with very little plot.

You’d been with Tom for a while and had explored many avenues in the bedroom department, but there was something you were both yet to try and that was a threesome. You’d both wanted another female to participate but it was about finding the right one. You’d both become quite wary of who you’d pick because of course you didn’t want your bedroom antics suddenly becoming front page news. That’s where Zendaya came in, you’d been talking about it one night as a group, you were all incredibly close and she’d offered to fill the third space.

“I’ll do it.” Zendaya had said once everyone had left.

“What?” You asked, having forgotten the conversation had happened.

“Be your third.” She shrugged. “It’s been a while since I got any so I think it’ll be good for all of us.” She added and your brows shot up.

“Really?” You asked almost excitedly.

“Yeah, although I should probably warn you that I have dom tendencies.” She said. “Scratch that, I’m a complete dom.” She laughed.

“You’ll be fighting more with Tom then than me.” You joked and she smirked.

“We’ll see.”

You talked about it a few more times before you all decided to go ahead, wanting to make sure everyone was comfortable. Whilst Tom was absolutely a dom he was happy to relinquish some control to Zendaya, it was decided through conversation that Tom was the ‘softer’ dom and so here you found yourselves, naked on yours and Tom’s bed.

“Okay, you’re going to come 4 times for me.” She whispered into your ear as she pulled the lobe between her teeth causing you to shudder. “You’re gonna come twice on my fingers, once on Tom’s tongue and once on his cock. That clear?” She said again as you nodded in anticipation.

“Gonna start off with my fingers and Tom’s gonna watch.” She spoke again as she looked at your boyfriend who had so far been quiet.

“Be a good girl and show Zendaya how pretty you are when you come.” Tom muttered as he kissed your cheek, he peppered kisses down your neck before stopping briefly to whisper in your ear. “If it’s too much you know the safe word yeah?” This was something Tom liked to make sure was established before anything started and you nodded. “Need to hear you say it.” He whispered again as he kissed your temple.

“Yeah I know the safe word.” You confirmed and he smiled as he kissed your lips.

“Good girl.” He whispered against them as he moved away from you completely.

Zendaya moved so she was sat against the head board as she looked at you. “Come here.” She said as she patted the spot between her open legs, you obliged as you sat with your back to her chest, you were dripping with anticipation. “You gonna be good for me like you’re good for Tom?” She asked and you nodded. “Say it.”

“I’ll be good for you like I’m good for Tom.” You said as she took your nipple between her fingers causing you to whimper in pleasure.

“Good girl, now you’re gonna come but only once Tom allows it.” She said as she kissed your neck and you rolled it to the side so she could get better access. She snaked her free hand down to your core and used two fingers to collect your arousal. “So wet baby, that all for us?” She said as she bit down slightly on your shoulder.

“Yeah.” You moaned as she moved her hand to rub your clit. You opened your eyes briefly and they connected with Tom’s darker lust blown ones. He looked so turned on at the sight in front of him. You moaned as Z lightly slapped your clit.

“Pay attention to me, it’s me that’s pleasing you right now.” She said and you nodded as you closed your eyes and she rubbed your clit again, you moaned as you let yourself get lost in the pleasure.

“That’s right darling, let Z hear those pretty moans of yours.” Tom spoke and you moaned louder at the words as Z sucked the skin just below your ear as she continued to rub your clit and roll your nipple between her fingers. You could feel that coil start to wind as she continued her assault and she moved her hand that was playing with your nipples to your dripping heat and inserted two fingers. You clenched around them.

“You close?” Z asked and you nodded. “You can only come when Tom says so, remember that. Be a good girl.” She hissed slightly in your ear and it only added to the pleasure. You could feel the pleasure build and you knew that Tom knew you were almost there, he’d seen the look a thousand times.

“Not yet baby, hang on a little longer.” Tom spoke and you whimpered as you tried to fight the urge to come. Z removed her fingers from your clit as she continued to steadily pump her fingers in and out of your heat. You were a moaning mess, completely consumed by pleasure. You were so close to an orgasm, wanting that mind blowing feeling as Z brought her fingers back to your clit that you couldn’t help yourself.

“Tom, please.”

“That’s right beg Tom to let you come. You’ve been so good so far.”

“Please what darling?”

“Tommy, please let me come.” You begged and you hoped the nickname had its usual effect, you were trying so hard to do as you were told but Z’s fingers were making it hard, your mind was clouded by pleasure.

“I suppose you have been a good girl so far. Go on then, come.” Tom said and you did, you almost screamed as your orgasm washed over you, Z rode you through it with her fingers as you came down from your orgasm. You thought Z was gonna remove her fingers but she didn’t, she continued to rub your oversensitive clit and you whimpered at the sensation, it felt good but it was too much all at once.

“I need a minute.” You moaned and Z kissed your cheek.

“I don’t think you do. What about you Tom?” She asked as her teeth grazed the skin underneath your ear. You looked at Tom and he looked so turned on that you were excited to have his cock inside you, you knew he was gonna fuck you into the mattress.

“No I think she’s okay.” Tom said. He knew full well you could take it, you’d done it for him so many times. She continued her assault on your sensitive clit whilst her fingers continued their pace in and out of you. You were almost thrashing in her arms from the pleasure.

“Tom come hold her still.” Z said as you continued to thrash in her arms. Tom approached and knelt in front of you as he pinned your ankles to the bed, preventing your thrashing. He leant forward as he kissed you and you melted into it for a second as you brought your fingers up to thread through his hair.

Now that you were pinned it was like Z was targeting every nerve and the pleasure was amazing as you moaned into Tom’s mouth. He brought his hand to cup your breast as he continued his kiss, it was hot and heavy and you were already sweating from your first orgasm. He rolled your nipple between his fingers as Z picked up her assault on your clit. With your back pressed so close to her you could feel her wetness slightly on your back and she grinded herself slightly into it.

You wanted to feel her now, you wanted to bring her to an orgasm and it all added to the pleasure as you continued your hot kiss with Tom, fingers lightly tugging at his roots as he groaned into your mouth. You were close again as Tom moved his hand that was rolling your nipple to lightly hold your neck, you loved his hands and the feeling of them around your neck was enough to drive you closer to the edge.

“Gonna come for me again? You’ve been such a good girl.” Z said into your shoulder as she placed kisses along it. The sensation of the two of them touching you was consuming you and you couldn’t think straight anymore, the last thing you heard was Tom pulling away from you for a second as he instructed you to come.

You were completely overtaken with pleasure and Z helped you ride out your high yet again, you screamed as she continued to fuck you with her fingers and your vision went black for a second as you saw stars. You came down from your high as Z removed her fingers from you completely, you were a panting, sweaty mess by the end of that orgasm and when you opened your eyes you were again met with those brown ones you love so much.

“Fuck, that was fucking hot.” He said as he pulled you to straddle him, completely pulling you away from Zendaya. “You’ve been so good baby, done such a good job for us.” He said as he pulled you into another kiss, your hands instantly finding his hair as his found yours. You were still dripping with arousal as you thought about what was going to come next.

Tom pulled back from the kiss and moved you onto your back and you caught sight of Z’s glistening core and moaned, you really wanted to taste it. Of course, Tom picked up on this straight away.

“You wanna taste Z while I taste you?” He asked and you nodded. “Why don’t you ask her nicely?” He hummed as he kissed your neck. You looked at Z who was looking at you with lust filled eyes and god you really wanted to taste her.

“Can I please taste you Z?” You moaned as Tom grazed his teeth over your sweet spot. He was making his way down your body as he brought his hands to your hips and pinned them to the bed.

“I think I can allow that, you have been so good for me.” She said as she kissed you and you moaned into it as you felt Tom’s breath over your heat. “Gonna let me ride that pretty face?”

“Please.” You moaned in anticipation and she moved herself so she was over you. You felt your own arousal grow further as you looked at her glistening core. Tom licked a stripe through your heat and you moaned at the sensation, you were so sensitive but it felt so good.

She moved herself down and as soon as your tongue made contact with her core she moaned and it was a beautiful sound, you wanted to hear it more. You flicked your tongue over her clit as you felt Tom do the same to you and you jumped lightly from the sensitivity but Tom soothed it with a gentle lick and you moaned which in turn caused Z to moan out louder.

You moved your fingers up to her heat and inserted two as you curled them to find her g-spot and she moaned again as she reached down with one hand and fisted your hair. You continued to pump your fingers in and out of her as Tom continued his assault on you and before you knew it you were close again but you were so sensitive that you weren’t sure you could. You tried to move your hips but Tom pinned them further to the bed.

You felt as Z tightened around your fingers as she came and you lapped up every last bit as you rode her through her high. Once she had come down from her high she moved to lay next to you as she played with your nipples. You were so sensitive and the closer you got the more sensitive you seemed to become, you felt as a few tears made their way down your face, the pleasure was almost painful but it was the best pleasure you could ask for.

“Tommy, I can’t-“ You stuttered out as he removed his mouth for a minute and replaced it with his fingers as they rubbed smooth circles into your well oversensitive clit. “It’s too much.” You whimpered as more tears made their way down your face. You wanted to orgasm, you really did but the pleasure was completely mind numbing.

“You can baby. You know what to say if you really can’t.” Tom had only ever had to remind you twice during sex that you had a safe word and that was when the pleasure had completely consumed you to a point where your brain hardly worked. It felt so good the closer you got and as soon as you felt Tom remove his fingers and suck your clit into his mouth you fell off the edge and went crashing into the waves beneath.

You felt your heart pound in your chest as your third orgasm took over, you felt as Z placed kisses to your forehead and Tom continued to lick your oversensitive clit to help you ride out your high and prolong it. You eventually came down, still feeling slightly disorientated to see Tom staring down at you.

“You did so well for me darling. So fucking well.” He said as he kissed at some of the tears that were still on your face, you looked at him through hooded eyes as you pulled him into a kiss. He moved his hand so he could rub your side. “One more darling.” He whispered and you nodded.

Z moved herself so she could watch the two of you and she brought her hand to her own clit. Tom took his well hardened length into his hand as he collected your arousal onto the tip of it before sliding into you. You clenched around him due to the number of orgasms you’d already had and his fist hit the bed next to your head as he groaned.

“So fucking tight.” He moaned out as you moaned at the contact. You watched as Z started to rub her clit at the sight of the two of you. Tom grabbed your thigh and moved it further up his waist so he could gain better access. He gave you minute to adjust as soon as you had he started to move. He was relentless as he pounded into you, completely fucking you into the mattress as you moaned for him. It felt amazing and you gripped his back as you dug your fingernails in.

“Fuck, feel so fucking good.” Tom moaned again and you rolled your head to look at Z as she rubbed her clit more furiously. She made eye contact with you as she spoke.

“Be a good girl and come for Tom. I want you to come around his cock.” She spoke and you felt as Tom’s movements became sloppier and less focused as you felt that high build once again.

“Tom I’m so close.” You moaned and he groaned.

“I know darling, rub your clit for me. Touch yourself. Come on my cock.” He said as he bit your shoulder. You did as he asked and moved your hand down to your clit as you rubbed the extremely sensitive bud. You cried out at the pleasure as you felt yourself let go, it was so fast but it felt so good.

You tightened around Tom as you heard Z follow you over the edge and Tom was spilling into you before you knew it. All three of you a moaning mess as you rode out your highs. You were panting and completely tired as you felt Tom slip from you and clean you up. You had no energy left as you laid on the bed.

“Did so good for us baby.” Z whispered as she laid next to you. You gave her a lazy smile.

“Thank you.” You said sincerely and she kissed your forehead.

“You look like you could do with a million hours sleep.” She laughed and you let out a half hearted one. “I’m gonna go for a quick shower, but you should pee first, come on.” She said as she helped you over the bed, your legs were so shaky after the amount of orgasms you’d had and you heard Tom laugh lightly before you felt him pick you up bridal style as he moved you into the bathroom.

Once you were done, you’d somewhat regained control of your legs as you shakily made your way back into the bedroom where you collapsed next to Tom as you watched Z wander off for the bathroom.

“You look so fucked out baby. Did so well.” Tom said as he brought you into his chest and kissed your head.

“I enjoyed that.” You mumbled against his chest as you yawned.

“Yeah me too.” Tom agreed as he ran his fingers through your hair. “Do you need anything?” He asked.

“Just sleep.” You muttered as he continued to run his fingers through your hair as you felt sleep take over.

[iwagfreal]

cigarettes, sex, and osamu.

tags: osamu x fem!reader + smoking + smut + dirty talk + balcony sex + lowkey public sex + shotgun word count: 2k

[not proofread so excuse the mistakes]

"you still smoke here?" you couragely ask as you approach the gray-haired bloke who's leaning on the wall, a stick of lit cigarette in between his fingers.

he looks at your direction and a smirk appears on his lips. "and here i thought you wouldn't come back," he utters before he takes a puff of his almost finished-off cig. you situated yourself, beside him and fished out the marlboro box from your pocket to take a stick.

to be honest, you didn't really know this guy beside you. it was just one night after getting kicked out of your place's rooftop for smoking that you had to find a new place to take a drag. and here you found a guy at the back of a high-end restaurant, always has his back rested on the wall and taking in three sticks and a piece of menthol candy before he decides he's had enough.

for weeks, you just smoke with him at 10 pm in this place, exchanging smiles and a the littlest bit of small talk. but that was all before you decided to stop smoking, which, of course was a blatant failure considering you're back in that place again.

"fuck, i forgot my lighter," you huff with the cig in between your lips. the guy immediately moves to whip out a lighter from his jeans' back pocket and lit your cigarette that was still on your mouth without even saying a word.

"thanks..." you say as you take a drag, the last syllable hanging as if you were asking for his name.

"osamu. osamu miya," he says in a low voice. he moves a little so the light from a lamp post kind of illuminated his face for a second and it made your breath hitch. god was he attractive, why did you notice this just now?

"wait... miya? as in onigiri miya?" you immediately ask as you point at the restaurant place at your back, "you own this place?"

he clears his throat and flicks the empty cig to the bin beside him before he answers, "well, yeah. i'm the head chef."

you were embarrassed to say the least, as you realize that you've been smoking in a private property, and you have the nerve to smoke with the owner himself, not even daring to ask for permission whatsoever. but all of this clouded by the thought that damn he cooks? how attractive is that shit?

"you're probably thinking you're not supposed to be here, aren't you?" he says, both his hands on his pocket, not looking at you. you nod in agreement, a little voice in your head telling you to just finish off your cig, apologize to him for trespassing and walk away. but your body won't let you. so you just stand there, cigarette still lit, in between you fingers.

"it's fine, i don't really mind having an eye candy at the end of a stressful day," he says while he crosses his arm in front of his chest. you look to your side and ogle at his biceps bulging out of his too-tight black.

"thanks, i also don't mind having something good to look at while i take a drag." you answer back, not knowing where the sudden confidence is coming from. you take a step closer to him until both your arms are touching, sending goosebumps to your entire body.

"i'm y/n, by the way. glad i failed at trying to stop smoking," you joke and he chuckles lightly, making something inside you tingle. even his laugh is beguiling, seriously, does this man even have a physical flaw?

"nice to meet you, y/n." he takes a step to face you and skillfully grabbed the cigarette on your lips before putting it in between his. he takes a puff and blew it on your agape mouth, taking you by surprise.

you feel your cheeks burning up after you realize what osamu just did. was that even considered a shotgun? that was so hot. your mind was still short-circuiting when you hear a low chuckle coming from the man in front of you. "sorry, got a little carried away." he says and looks directly onto your eyes, you notice that his pupils are dilated.

he doesn't give you back your cigarette though, he takes another puff and kept it in between his fingers. he's still smirking at you, as if letting you make the next move. so you do, thinking, fuck everything else, you grabbed the back of his nape and pushed it towards your face, crashing your lips together.

the taste of menthol and cigarettes all mixing together as he starts to suck on your mouth, his free hand placed on your waist while his tongue adeptly lick your lips, asking for a chance to enter. you gape your mouth to admit his wet tongue. osamu explores your mouth so good, he tilts his head from time to time to go back to sucking and then licking your mouth. and god does it feel so good, it feels illegal.

he takes a step to guide you, your back feeling the coldness of the wall where he pins and keeps you in place. he breaks the kiss and places the cigarette on your mouth while he drops a kiss to your exposed neck. once he feels you've taken a proper drag, he removes the cig on your mouth and drops it on the floor. he stomps on it and goes back to kissing you.

he sucks the smoke from your mouth and takes a deep breath as he inhales it. you feel a smirk growing in his mouth before he lets out a low laugh and moves back an inch, your mouth meeting air.

"you wanna take this somewhere else, y/n?" his hand placed on the wall beside your head, his eyes filled with lust. "i have a place upstairs," he adds while he looks up the building behind the two of you.

you take all your courage in your body to nod and he immediately grabs your hand at this and drag you to his place.

you didn't even have the chance to appreciate the design of his flat before osamu is kissing you senseless once again. he moves his hands to remove your jacket and the sudden feel of cold air sent goosebumps to your body once again.

he snakes a hand on your waist before he casually lifts you, you let out small gasp before you hook your legs on both sides of his waist. osamu hugs your entire lower torso, making sure you're holding on there tightly before he starts walking.

you open your eyes for a second and realize that he's walking you both to the balcony of his flat. and fuck, the thought of him fucking you while someone could be watching sends shivers to your spine already from excitement.

he loosens his grip on your torso as he lets you down, your bare feet touching the cold tiles of the balcony. he doesn't let your lips go though, he kept kissing and sucking at your lips until he felt breathless.

he holds your shoulders and made you turn your back on him, he scoops some of your hair with his hand and leaves a soft kiss on your exposed neck. "want me to fuck you while people can watch, hmm?" he asks, his voice rough and thick.

you moan in agreement and place you hands on the railings. you bend backward and arch your back so your ass is directly touching his semi hard on. you lustfully look back at him from your shoulders and say, "fuck me good and your neighbors will know your name."

his raises his eyebrows at your taunting and his hands immediately flies to the waistbands of your jeans, he pulls them down in one go, leaving you only in your lace underwear that leaves nothing to the imagination. your toes curl at the sudden gush of cold wind touches your skin but osamu is kneeling in no time, kneading your butt cheeks while mouthing at your still-clothed pussy.

"fuck, you don't know how long i've thought about this," he says as a squeezes your left butt cheek significantly harder. "don't know how much i missed you when you suddenly stopped coming to the that spot, our spot."

he leaves a kiss on your ass cheek and softly bites it for good measure which made your grip on the railings tighten. he takes his one hand and undos his belt, pulling his jeans down and exposing his cock.

osamu leans down, his cock perfectly resting on your ass and you can feel how heavy and thick he is. he was lengthy enough but his girth was the highlight of it, you think to yourself. he snakes his hand under your shirt and grabbed both your boobs, massaging it while his fingers play with your nipples.

you were getting wetter by the second, his now fully hard dick just on your ass and nowhere near your hole where you want it to be is driving you mad. so you try to take matters in your own hands and reach for his cock from your behind.

"getting restless, hmm? want me to fuck you now? without prep?"

"osamu," you whine as you grind your ass on his crotch.

"okay, baby. i'm gonna stretch you out real good." he sneered as he holds his cock in his one hand and the other moving your panties to the side. his dick prodding at your wet entrance made your go your mind turn into a puddle of goo. when the tip is finally in, you both let out a moan, you because of the sudden stretch and him because you're wrapping around him so got.

osamu bottoms out in no time, your heat covering his entire cock and all he could do was groan in pleasure. he grabs your waist and pull himself out until only the tip was inside, then he slams back in. the hard impact of his thrust sent your body bucking onto the railings, your boobs hitting the glass that's keeping you from falling from the 26th floor of the building.

he picks up his pace and doesn't stop his relentless pounding, his hips thrusting into you perfectly, filling you up with his fat cock so good that your brain is fogging with pure bliss.

"look below you, y/n. do you think the people downstairs can see you?" he pulls out then slams back in, "you think they know you're getting absolutely railed by me, huh? when all they could see is someone who's probably enjoying the view."

"little do they know i have the best view right here," he add and bucks his hips forward, hitting a spot that gets him a loud moan from you. "fuuck, i'm close, samu."

osamu's hips stutter at this and he lets out a low grunt. he wraps his arm around your waist and grabs your entire body that your hands had to let go of the railings. he moves to sit both of you down on the floor, his cock still never leaving your hole.

he lays both of you down, you on his chest with your thighs on his legs and his back on the cold tiles. he plants his feet on the floor and a beat doesn't even pass until he's fucking into you again.

his hands grab at your waist to keep you in place above his cock. you were cumming in no time from the unabated thrusting of osamu's dick into you and him continuously hitting the spot that sends you into frenzy.

your legs were still shaking when osamu pulled out of you as he gasps while spurts of his cum fly onto your stomach and thighs. you stay like that for a minute, gasping for air and still reeling from the feeling being fucked out of your minds.

"i'm going to stop smoking," you say out of nowhere and he laughs at this and asks "why?"

"i think i just found me a new vice." you say with a smile on your face.

[starstruckkittensweets]

“Snowdrop” Pt. I (Kenny x Reader) || Fairytale/Soulmate AU

A/N: This is EXTREMELY OVERDUE, and I apologize to both my readers and the lovely and amazing @bluebellhairpin​. This is my first-ever Kenny fic, and my piece for Nemo’s Fantasy AU Collab! It was so much fun to be a part of this collab! Thank you so much for having me, Nemo! (And thank you for letting me write for Kenny, I hope you enjoy him in this fic!) 

I have been hyping up this fic for myself for so long now, and even though it’s not 100% done, I’m so excited to finally share the first part with you guys! I swear, I did NOT mean for this little fic to get this long, and even though this first part is already pretty lengthy, I have a lot more to write out. I hope that posting this part of the fic will encourage me to finally get off my lazy butt and write out the rest! 

A bit of background: this fic is a Fantasy AU, as per Nemo’s collab theme, and it falls in line with my Fairytale/Soulmate AU that I started way back when with my Moblit fic. I have an unhealthy obsession with soulmate tropes, so I had to incorporate them into this fic too! The first part of this fic is a little sad and dark (not too dark, don’t worry!), what with setting up the atmosphere and the conflict surrounding Reader and her kingdom. Additional warnings are posted below, but I promise, the next few parts will be softer! With that said, I hope you guys enjoy the first part! 

(Just as  a disclaimer - I have nothing against Frieda Reiss as a character. I just needed someone to fill the antagonist slot in this story, and she was the first one to come to mind!) 

Fandom: Attack on Titan  Pairing: Kenny x Reader  Words: 8.4k

Inspiration: 

Snowdrop - Brothers Grimm

Snow White and the Huntsman 

The Tale of the Apple - Emma Donoghue 

Warnings: medieval setting, fallen kingdoms, slow burn romance, mentions of past grief/death, heavy swearing (it’s Kenny so that’s to be expected haha), implied animal death (non-graphic), alcohol consumption, violence, princess!reader (and possible stereotypical gender roles), the classic “we’re on the run together” trope (and the fact I’m a complete sucker for it), future smut (not in this chapter, but in future ones, so be aware!)

Part I | Part II | Part III

It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when things start to go wrong. Everyone in the kingdom has a different view on it. For some, it’s the day the flowers begin to die. For others, it’s the day the rivers start drying up. And for a select few, it’s the night the majority of livestock in the countryside begin mysteriously dying, from an incurable disease that sweeps through every cottage and cabin in the realm.

For you? It’s the day Queen Frieda is crowned. The day your world begins to fall apart.

You’re no more than eight years old when your father brings Frieda to the castle. With hair as black as night and eyes that shimmer in the sun, you believe her to be the epitome of pure beauty. In fact, you used to dream of being as beautiful as her when you grew up. Perhaps, deep down in your gut, you wanted to be just like her.

At least you have the grace to scoff at that now. Back when you were an ignorant child.

It takes a year for your father to ask for her hand in marriage. Another year, and he lays on his deathbed, struggling to breathe as his cheeks puff out with each ragged gasp. You beg the nurses to let you in the room, to hold his hand one last time before he leaves, but they refuse. You manage to sneak in one night and curl up into his side. But the next morning, when the first rays of light beam down on your forehead, you know he’s gone.

Once your father is buried alongside his wife—your real mother—in the crypts below the castle, you know it’s over. Frieda has full control of both the castle and the kingdom.

The knights are the first to suffer her wrath. Swear allegiance to the queen or be beheaded. Most of them remain loyal, out of fear for themselves and their families. You don’t blame them—what would you do in their situation? You would probably obey out of fear, as well. But the select few who refuse to kneel soon meet their bloody demise, at the polished edge of a broadsword.

You grimace every time you walk out of the front gates—well, when you used to be able to walk through the gates. The once beautiful entrance of the castle is now decorated with spikes, with each tip bearing a head. The queen calls them traitors, and the kingdom echoes in fear. You call them victims.

The beautiful woman you once dreamed of calling mother is no more. Instead, there’s a wicked monster in her place, one who brings death and destruction to everything she touches.

It’s only a matter of time before she disposes of you, the king’s trueborn daughter. You’re a thorn in her side, sharp and prickly.  Something that’s always in sight, something that can never be ignored.

And thorns must be plucked out at some point.

The rusty bars of the cell are the only things you’ve seen for the past six years. Well, those and the guards that prowl the halls of the dungeon late at night.

You trace a hand along your wrist. Little black words are scrawled across your skin, right above your pulse point. Before she passed on that dark snowy day, your mother told you what those words meant.

“Those are the first words you’ll ever hear from your soulmate.” She spoke the word so lightly, as if she was still a child herself. It was something you always admired about your mother; despite her age and stature, she was always willing to play and joke around with you. “Keep them close to your heart. You’ll know who they are the moment you hear those words.”

Of course, soulmates didn’t matter all that much when it came to those of royal blood. In some rare cases, such as your own parents, and your father’s parents before, were true soulmates, destined to be together. But that could only last for so long. When your mother died, your father was expected to bring along another wife—and that was how Frieda came to live at the castle. It was a harsh consequence those of royal blood had to bear, which only made the concept of soulmates all the more precious to you and your mother.

The words on your wrist were simple enough: There you are. At first, you didn’t believe they were real. How could a common phrase like this tell you who your soulmate was? It didn’t make sense, but your mother was persistent. And if she believed, that was good enough for you.

Too many people said those three simple words to you. The youngest maid who tended to your mother. The handsome knight that guarded your father. The stable boy who used to chase you around the barn. For a while, you hoped he would be your soulmate, but then you caught a glimpse of him holding another girl in his arms, right behind the stables. You had been upset at first, but the more you thought about it, the more relieved you were. That just gave you the sign to keep looking for your own.

You’ve tried to keep that thought in the back of your mind, as a promise to your mother. She spoke so highly of soulmates and the beautiful bond that came along with them, and she wished nothing but the best for you. Before she had died, you promised you would find yours, and you would think of her every day when you did. But now, as your twenty-first year grows closer and closer, you’ve all but disregarded that promise.

In this world, the one that Frieda has created, there are much more important things than soulmates.

One of the guards pauses to gaze into your cell. You don’t even spare him a glance, instead keeping your eyes fixed on your lap. You can hear him mumble to himself before walking away. He has no reason to worry; you’re where you should be, on your bed and looking as helpless as ever, with your hands clasped against your knees. Nothing to worry about.

The footsteps get softer and softer. When you finally hear the door shut at the end of the hall, you open your hand, revealing a small shard of iron. One of the prisoners slipped it into your cell before he was escorted out, with the words “Stay alive” plastered on his lips.

You promise you won’t let his sacrifice be in vain.

Someone coughs in the distance. With the shard in your hand, you reach around to the lock and slip it inside. A few jerks upward, to the side, and then—click! The latch comes undone, and the lock loosens around the bars.

There’s a beat of silence. You can feel your heart throbbing in your throat, ears straining desperately, trying to catch even the slightest bit of noise from down the hall.

Nothing. You slip the lock around and open the door. Still, there’s dead silence in the hall.

You step outside and close the cell door behind you. Across the hall, in the cell in front of yours, a ragged figure sits up and presses itself against the bars. One of the commoners the queen’s imprisoned, for some reason you can’t recall. You remember his face from one of the many parties you attended in the square, when you were about six years old. He had waved to you before his twin girls dragged him off to dance.

His lips are dry and cracked, and his stringy hair falls in his dirty face. It hurts to see him now—you wish with all your heart you could take him with you.

No, not just him. You want to take everyone in this dungeon with you. Take them far away from this wretched kingdom—from the witch who has destroyed it.

You kneel down to the man’s level, grasping his fingers between the bars. He gives you a gentle smile, and for a moment, you wonder how his daughters are doing.

His voice is soft but sure: “Run.”

And you do.

Down to the opposite end of the hall, where the soldiers never bother to go. You don’t want to risk running into any of them. Who knows what will happen if they find you out of your cell? What will they do to you?

No—what will Queen Frieda do to you?

It’s hard to breathe as you race down the dusty hallway, your frayed shoes scraping against the damp stone. Some of the prisoners lean in close, struggling to catch a glimpse of you before you disappear. Some of them whisper good luck as you pass them by; others clasp their hands over their mouth and pray silently.

There’s a small slit at the edge of the hall, where the pale sunlight filters in. Perhaps the only sunlight that ever reaches the dungeon, apart from the small windows in every other cell. The ragged skirt of your dress brushes your knees; you managed to rip the hem of it off a few days ago, so it wouldn’t get in your way when running.

The window at the edge of the hall glares at you, white rays of sunlight pouring onto your face. The moment you hoist yourself up onto the stone, you hear a scuffle at the end of the hall—and a collection of mystified voices.

“She’s gone!”

“Alert the guards!”

“Don’t let the queen panic!”

Your stomach rolls at the mention of Frieda. What could she possibly want with you? In fact, why didn’t she kill you the night your father died? What does she gain from keeping you alive like this?

The window leads to the edge of the dungeon, on the south side of the castle. Below is the wooden fixture that stretches all along the keep, passing the stables, the smithy, and the kennels. The hunter’s gate, as your father used to call it, is just ahead. You faintly remember watching him from the window of your bedroom, on his great white stallion, with his men at his side and the dogs at his heels.

You swing your legs up and land on the roof of the stables. Hunkering down, you watch as knights begin to file toward the other end of the dungeon, swords pared and armor shining. You steal another look at the stables, through the small vent in the roof. One of the horses, a chestnut mare with a black mane, lifts her eyes up to you.

Perhaps she recognizes me.

It’s impossible to get very far without a horse. And yet, if you waste time saddling one up, you run the risk of getting caught. You’ll have to ride bareback—something you haven’t done in ages.

But it’s better than being caught and taken to the queen. So you slip your legs into the vent and drop down into the stables, reaching for the chestnut mare with the black mane.

A distraction, you realize, taking in the ten other horses in the stables. No one is nearby right now—everyone’s preoccupied with the dungeon. Maybe you can hold them off for just a little longer…

You manage to loop a lead rope through the mare’s halter and use it as a makeshift bridle. Not the safest option, but it’s all you have time to do. Once she’s ready, you slide the latch from each of the horse’s stalls and urge them forward. Most of them take the hint and wander outside. Some of them need a bit more encouragement, so you smack their behinds—that gets them moving in no time.

Shouts from the courtyard reach your ears. With a huff, you swing yourself up and onto the mare’s back, digging your heels into her sides as hard as you can. She grunts but trots ahead, right toward the hunter’s gate. It’s rarely ever used anymore—the queen’s guards focus their attention more on the north and south gates—so the doors are always open just a bit. With a sharp yank on the mare’s lead, you urge her ahead and into the meadow behind, following the dirt path that leads to nowhere.

You have a handful of minutes before the guards are hot on your tail. It’s up to you to make the best of them. You dig your heels deeper into the mare’s skin and grasp her mane, your heart lodged in your throat with every passing stride.

On the other side of the meadow is a great forest. Your father used to bring you there sometimes, not to hunt, but to admire the beauty it held. The canopy of the trees above, the autumn leaves that crunched beneath your boots, the rushing river to the east—all of it was gorgeous. And even now, despite your situation, you have to appreciate its appearance. Even after all these years, the forest is still just as beautiful as ever.

Almost as if it’s the one thing that hasn’t succumbed to Frieda’s deadly touch.

The first thing you do is wade through the river, collecting handfuls of mud to slather on both your skirts and the horse’s hide. No doubt the queen will send dogs after you, and you’re determined to hide your scent as long as you can. You refuse to go back there—too many people have died to give you a chance to escape. It’s up to you to make their sacrifices count for something.

The little shard of iron rests in the pocket of your skirt. You grasp at it, hoping the little piece will give you some sort of comfort. But it doesn’t—all it does is remind you of the lives the kingdom has lost, all because of Frieda’s rule.

The mare grunts and sidesteps further into the river. You forgot, this one can be a little skittish. You rub her neck before climbing back on. It’s best to keep moving for now.

But even as you make your way further into the forest, you’re at a loss. Where are you supposed to go? What’s on the other end of this forest? You’ve only explored a bit of it with your father, but other than that, you have no idea what lies beyond the kingdom’s walls. Are you heading the right way? Will you come across some of the villages you used to visit with your mother? It’s hard to tell—every direction looks identical.

You heave a sigh and press on, the sound of the mare’s hooves against the dirt providing little comfort.

Suddenly, there’s a scream in the distance—the scream of a man. Followed by a storm of hoof beats, and a clink of armor.

They’re coming. Behind you.

It’s hard not to panic as you reach around and smack at the mare’s backside. She squeals and starts to run, and for a moment, you jostle in your seat on her back. But you grip both the lead rope and her mane and hold on for dear life.

They’re gaining on you. Screaming your name, screaming your title—your former title, you should say. You’re no longer a princess in Frieda’s eyes.

You yank on the mare’s mane, directing her toward the clearing in the forest. It’s too noticeable to continue on horseback—you’re much more likely to be spotted by the search parties. Your best option is to leave the horse behind and continue on foot.

The mare suddenly squeals and buckles beneath your weight. A scream flies past your lips as you tumble down into the dead leaves of the forest floor. The mare shrieks in pain and writhes. Your throat burns when you realize why—an arrow is lodged in her side, blood already leaking from the wound.

The men are getting close, so close you can see them on their silver horses. Tears spring into your eyes as you push yourself off the ground and begin to run, the mare’s screams echoing in your ears.

You get maybe a few more strides in before your legs give out from under you. Your screams are lodged in your throat as your body thrashes against the floor, tumbling down a steep hill in the forest. When you finally stop, you land in a shallow pond, soaking your skirt and hair. But there’s a silver lining to this—a small makeshift cavern, constructed of broken tree branches and rocks, lying right beside the water. Snatching the iron shard from your pocket, you worm your way into the cavern and struggle to keep quiet.

The voices of the knights get closer and closer. Words begin to register in your mind—Frieda, princess, beauty, blood. None of it makes sense.

Suddenly, you hear screaming, followed by the harsh clang of metal. Then a few gurgling sounds, the kind that sends a shiver down your spine.

What’s going on up there? Are they fighting with each other?

It’s quite uncommon for knights to duel with each other, as they’re sworn by blood to protect one another. Perhaps another enemy has made itself known? You squeeze your eyes shut and grip the iron shard even harder than before.

The voices suddenly stop. The horses grunt and whinny to each other. Dead leaves crunch beneath heavy footsteps. A tear slips down your dirty cheek.

“There you are.”

A calloused hand wraps around your wrists and tugs on you hard. You whimper as something cold and sharp presses against the base of your throat. A sob wracks your throat when you realize it’s a blade.

“Fucking brat,” a rough, masculine voice growls in your ear, “more trouble than you’re worth. Should rake in a hefty price, though. The queen herself promised to pay.”

So that’s what this man is. A huntsman, hired by the queen herself. You weren’t even aware she had some on hand. It seems you’ve missed quite a lot in the six years you’ve spent in the dungeon.

Huntsmen have a harsh reputation in your kingdom. Your father never liked them, claiming their business to be dirty work and downright repulsive. It was dishonorable to hunt down fellow human beings, all for the sake of a fleeting reward. Some of them are even known for killing their own allies, to ensure they don’t have to share their payment with anyone else. No wonder Frieda has a few of them working for her.

They match her despicable nature, right down to the bone.

There’s a faint splash of water beneath you. You’ve dropped the shard of iron, right into the depths of the pond. Tears gather in your eyes, your skin pulses against the steel of the blade.

Is this how it’s going to end for you? Killed at the blade of a huntsman, brought in to the queen for a profit? Seems like a poor way to leave this world.

Your teeth chatter behind your quivering lips. You don’t want to die. Not yet, anyway. But what are the odds of this stranger letting you go, and sacrificing his prize? Almost nonexistent.

So you loosen your hands, lean back into his chest, and say the only thing you can think of: “Just be gentle.”

You almost scoff at yourself. What a stupid thing to say to the man who’s about to end your life.

Suddenly, you’re thrown into the pond with a splash, landing on your hands and knees. You scramble through the mud below, as fast as your arms and legs can carry you. When you reach the opposite end of the pond, you glance over your shoulder, and you get a decent look at the queen’s huntsman.

He looks cleaner than usual for a huntsman, with black hair that’s slicked back and partially hidden by a matching black hat, and a thin line of scruff around his chin. His face is aged, lined with wrinkles, and the skin around his eyes crinkles in disgust. A leather vest, a scabbard for weapons, black boots that reach up to his knees, and a small blade grasped in his hand—the same one that touched your throat just seconds before.

Definitely the kind of man to stay away from.

But he doesn’t advance toward you, like you expect him to. Instead, he just stares at you, lips curled up in obvious disgust, and…wait a minute…

Is that disbelief?

What does he have to be surprised about? He knows who you are. He knows what you are to the queen. So why does he look so shocked all of a sudden?

Was it something you said? No, it couldn’t be. You’ve only said three words to the man, he couldn’t possibly—

Wait.

Three words. “Just be gentle,” you had said. He let you go after hearing those three simple words.

Simple words. Your stomach churns at the realization. What did he say to you? What were the first words—?

The same ones etched on your skin, smeared with dirt and dripping with pond water. There you are.

The huntsman shakes his head and tugs at his sleeve—the left one, to be exact. The same one your words are printed on, as well.

That all but affirms your suspicions, and suddenly, you feel like throwing up.

It’s not possible. No, you must be mistaken. This man—this thing can’t be your soulmate. Maybe you’ve misread the situation. Yeah, that’s it. Maybe it’s just an honest mistake.

But when he shakes his head and tilts his hat over his eyes, suddenly you’re not so sure. And when he turns away from you, ready to leave you alone, your mouth acts before your brain does.

“Wait! Don’t go!” What am I even saying? He’s a huntsman, a murderer! I should be begging him to leave me alone!

But you don’t want him to leave. Not just yet.

He stops in his tracks, right at the bank of the pond. You straighten yourself up, your skirt brushing against the soft waves of the pond, and take a shaky step forward.

“…What’s written on your wrist?”

He scoffs and begins to walk away. “You’re smart. Figure it out.”

Now you know you’re not mistaken. And while your throat burns with bile, you force yourself to wade through the pond, in a desperate attempt to catch up to him.

“Don’t leave,” you call after him, “not yet!”

You’re soaked with water and shivering like a madman when you finally climb out of the pond. The skirt of your dress clings to your knees, and your shoes are caked with mud and leaves. Your teeth chatter as you hug your arms to your chest, eyes still fixed on the huntsman ahead. He refuses to look back at you, still making his way up the steep hill.

“Wait!” You scramble up after him, lungs screaming for air. “Don’t leave!”

The man whirls around and glares at you, and when you see the blade flash in his hand, you squeeze your eyes shut and flinch away. You hear a chuckle, and when you open your eyes again, you see the man shaking his head.

“Pathetic,” he sneers. He slips the blade back into the scabbard on his belt—and that’s when you realize, that’s not the only blade he has hidden away on his being. “Run away, sweetheart. Run as fast you can, far away from this place. You’ll thank me later.”

At the top of the hill stands the horses, with their riders strewn about on the forest floor. One of them has his throat slashed, another lays facedown against the dead leaves. You cringe when your eyes land on the chestnut mare, who’s stopped writhing around by now. At least she’s no longer in pain, the poor thing.

But there’s another horse in the mix—a huge black stallion, with a single white patch on his front right leg. Judging by the leather knapsack and heavy cape thrown over the saddle, you assume he belongs to the huntsman himself.

The huntsman heads for the nearest knight and begins examining his body. At first, you think he’s just checking to make sure he’s dead. But then he swipes the knight’s little silver knife from him and slips it into his belt. The sight makes you grimace.

As dishonorable as they come, huh? How in the world did you get stuck with a huntsman as your soulmate?

“You still here, brat?” the huntsman snarls, glaring at you from over his shoulder. “I thought I told you to leave.”

The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them: “Take me with you.”

Silence fills the air around you. And suddenly, the man bursts into laugher, the skin around his eyes crinkling with a mad kind of joy.

Your cheeks burn. What’s come over you all of a sudden? Possibly the most dangerous place to be in the world is at a huntsman’s side. And not only that, but you’re staunchly against their way of life. Kill, steal, kill again—it’s doesn’t sit well with you. It goes against everything your parents taught you.

And yet, you want to be near this man.

Is it because he has the first words you’ve ever said to him etched on his wrist? Is that all there is to it? Or is it something deeper than that?

Why did he spare you back there to begin with, anyway?

“Absolutely not.” He stands back up, pocketing the little pouch of gold from the knight’s chainmail, before moving onto the next one. “I don’t need some princess following me like a shadow.”

“Then why don’t you just kill me?” You cross your arms over your chest and give him your fiercest glare. “Kill me now, and get it over with. Go collect your prize from the queen. Isn’t that why you’re here, anyway?”

He stops, his hand hovering over the knight’s armor. For a moment, you think you’ve won the argument. But then he straightens himself up, pocketing yet another pouch of gold coins, before making his way over to you. Your knees tremble, but you stand your ground.

He leans over to you, and that’s when you get a good look at his eyes. A pale gray color, with flecks of blue dancing around his pupils. In the right kind of light, you’re sure they could almost pass as…appealing.

You’re so fixated on his eyes you don’t even he’s reaching for your wrist until it’s too late. A yelp escapes your mouth as he lifts your wrist up to his face, tugging the sleeve of your dress down to reveal the writing scrawled across your skin. He scoffs softly and shakes his head upon reading the words.

“Of fucking course.” He drops your wrist and shrugs his shoulder, dark eyes burning into yours. “Don’t ever let your guard down. Too many people will take advantage of you if you do.”

Like you. The words are on the tip of your tongue, but you remain silent. No need to get on his bad side even more, right?

“Grab one of those horses and stay close.” He heads for the black stallion, slipping the pouches of gold into the knapsack. “But the next town we get to, you’re staying behind. I can’t waste my time babysitting some spoiled fucking princess.”

You don’t even have the energy to argue with him. So you only shrug your shoulders, before grabbing the reins of one of the silver horses. Another mare, you realize, and your heart hurts as you remember the chestnut, lying on the forest floor.

By the time you swing yourself up into the saddle, the huntsman is already on the move. You squeeze your legs around the mare and urge her forward, silently following in the huntsman’s shadow.

The first night with him is awkward. You’re huddled up against the trunk of a tree, arms crossed over your chest and knees pressed together. The horses are tied up a few feet away, their heads hung and their breaths soft. The huntsman sits across from you, on the other side of the campfire, silently inspecting one of the many knives from his belt.

It’s hard to fall asleep, especially when he’s sharpening his blade right in front of you.

Will he go back on his word after all? Will he slit your throat in your sleep and cart your body off to the queen? The thought doesn’t surprise you; huntsmen have no moral code of their own. They act in their own self-interest, especially at the expense of others.

You wait a few more minutes before curling up on your side, pressing your cheek against the dead leaves on the forest floor. The forest seems to stretch on forever in the distance. You don’t remember it being this big, in the stories your father used to tell you before tucking you into bed. Your throat closes up at the memory, and of the kisses he would press against your forehead before wishing you sweet dreams. How many years has it been since his death? Ten? Eleven, maybe? Too many, as far as you’re concerned.

Something wet cascades across the bridge of your nose. You clear your throat and wipe your face, before burying your head in your arms. No use in crying now. You have to be alert, ready for anything. You can’t trust anyone, especially not the man sitting across from you.

Suddenly, the huntsman clears his throat and pushes himself to his feet. At the glint of the blade in the fire’s glow, you sit up and prepare to run. But the man only shakes his head, angling the edge of the blade away from your body.

“Would you calm the fuck down already?” His gruff voice sends a shiver down your spine. “If I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead.”

That’s comforting enough. “And how do I know you won’t kill me once I fall asleep?”

For a moment, he almost looks offended. “What do you take me for, anyway?”

A murderer who only ever thinks about himself. The answer comes to you in the blink of an eye.

And yet, your soul is bonded to this man, violence and bloodshed and all. It’s enough to make you sick to your stomach. For once, you find yourself cursing the world of soulmates your mother spoke so highly of.

What would she say if she knew this man was your soulmate, your supposed one and only?

The huntsman shakes his head before padding his way over to his horse. The stallion doesn’t even flinch as he starts rummaging through the saddlebags. You keep your eyes on him, prepared to face anything he might brandish.

You still don’t trust him, soulmates be damned. But then…why did you want him to stay with you so badly?

Something lands in your lap—courtesy of the huntsman nearby. When you glance down at it, you realize it’s a blanket. It’s on the smaller side, and the fabric’s a bit scratchy, but it’s warm and comforting. Still, you raise your eyebrow at the man and wait for him to explain.

“It gets cold out here real quick.” He doesn’t look at you when he speaks, opting to settle back down at his usual spot across from you, on the other side of the fire. “And I don’t wanna hear you complain about it all night.”

Already, the nighttime chill begins to settle in your bones. You wrap the blanket around your shoulders and lay back down on your side.

“…Thanks.”

The huntsman leans against the tree and tips his hat over his eyes. “Don’t mention it.”

It’s still a while before you fall asleep, what with the sounds of the forest all around you: an owl hooting in the distance, the crickets chirping noisily, the campfire crackling, and the huntsman snoring softly. You hate to admit it…but the stupid scratchy blanket is borderline comfortable, and it manages to lull you to sleep, with your arms still folded over your chest.

You get a few more words out of the huntsman the following day. It’s hard to talk to him, considering the ever-present scowl on his wrinkled face. Not to mention the array of weapons lining his belt, peeking out from behind the flaps of his overcoat. But if you’re going to be traveling together, even if it’s just for a short while, you might as well get to know him a bit better.

“…Can you tell me your name, at least?”

He dips his hat over his eyes and answers you in a gruff voice: “Kenny Ackerman.”

Ackerman. You’ve heard that name before, from the meetings your father had with his advisors. A known huntsman, ruthless and bloodthirsty. Always eager to kill, never shying away from finishing the job. Not someone your mother would ever welcome at the dinner table.

And yet, according to the words on your wrist, he’s your supposed soulmate. Go figure.

The two horses nicker softly. A bird chirps in the distance. You grip the reins even tighter, thumbing over the worn leather.

You tell him your own name, and he only huffs in response. Of course, he knows your name. No doubt Frieda told him everything she knew about you before she sent him on his way to kill you.

There’s another beat of silence. The green canopy above is getting thinner and thinner, and more rays of sunlight begin pooling on the forest floor. You must be getting closer to the edge of the woods by now.

“How much did she offer you to kill me?”

Your cheeks flush with heat the moment the words leave your lips. Not exactly the next question you wanted to ask…

At first, the huntsman—Kenny, you remind yourself—seems taken aback. But then he shakes his head and turns to you, eyebrow quirked at an angle. “Why do you want to know so badly?”

Without missing a beat, you answer, “Just wondering how much you gave up when you let me go.”

“Don’t do that.”

It’s your turn to frown. “What do you mean?” But he stays silent, and you drop the subject.

Finally, you reach the edge of the forest, right on the little hill your father always described in his stories. Below the hill rests a small village, but you can’t tell if it’s one of the ones you used to visit with your mother. They all look the same, in one way or another. With their mills, taverns, inns, fields, it’s hard to tell them apart sometimes.

Especially now, since you haven’t been out of the castle walls in six years or so.

Kenny dismounts his horse, gathering the reins in one hand. You follow his lead, and the silver mare snorts when you pat her neck. Wordlessly, Kenny begins to walk down the hill and further toward the village. You do your best to keep up, leading the silver mare right behind you.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you ask again. This time, he graces you with an answer.

“Act all tough and defiant. You’re not. So don’t go tryin’ to fool yourself.”

He must be referring to your earlier comment to him. About giving up the queen’s offering. “I’m not—”

“Don’t bullshit me,” he sneers, shoving his face into yours—too close, and you take a step or two back. “You’re not as sharp-tongued as you think you are, so don’t go pretending you are.”

Sharp-tongued? A fire explodes in your chest. “I’m just curious, that’s all! I never meant to—”

Suddenly, there’s a flash of silver in the sunlight, and you squeeze your eyes shut and hunch away. The silver mare grunts and takes a step back. You brace yourself, wondering if the huntsman has finally snapped and decided to kill you after all.

Will it be fast and painless? Or will he make you suffer? Most likely the latter. Huntsmen are known to take pleasure in their kills. It’s all sport for them, after all. A sick sport that they’re paid to play.

But no such pain comes. When you crack an eye open, you see him standing with his back to you, his front turned to the forest behind you. His blade is in his hand—the same one he held to your throat just hours before.

“Start moving,” he grumbles, sliding his knife back into the scabbard on his belt. “Shouldn’t stay out here for too long. It’ll be dark soon, anyway.”

He tugs on the reins, leading his black stallion further and further down the hill. With a hard swallow, and an aching feeling in your chest, you begin to follow him.

This is it, you realize. Once you get to the village, you’ll both go your separate ways. He only said you could follow him to the next town, and that’s that. After this, you’ll never get to see him again.

For some reason, the thought makes your stomach swirl.

What’s wrong with you? Forget about being your soulmate—he’s a huntsman, first and foremost! You should be glad to finally get away from him. No more skirting around him, wondering when you’ll take your last breath. No more wondering whether or not he’ll kill you. No more hearing his foul mouth or the gruff words he’d lash out at you with.

You’ll finally be free of him. That’s what you want, right? But then, why does the thought of leaving him hurt so damn much?

A shiver crawls down your spine when you think of your mother. What would she say? No, no need to ask that question—you already know her answer. She would insist that soulmates come first, no matter what. That somehow, some way, everyone figures out how to make it work.

But as much as you hate the thought of disappointing her, you don’t see how it could work between you two. A princess on the run, and a murderous huntsman? It doesn’t seem possible.

The village is strangely quiet, the fields and roads tinted with the faint orange glow of the sunset. Not a soul to be seen, in either direction. For some reason, your gut churns at the realization.

It’s too early to be inside already. Surely there are people who need to finish up work, right? You remember visiting the towns with your mother, when you were no more than five years old, watching the men toil into the late hours of the night, while their sons and daughters played in the square. It’s natural for villagers to be up at night, even when they have to rise early the next morning.

So then…why isn’t there anyone out here?

Kenny suddenly brings his horse to a halt, and you don’t hesitate to follow suite. He’s stopped a few feet away from a small tavern, the bricks rugged and sprinkled with moss. He ties his stallion to the hitching post, where a handful of horses are already lined up. Each of them looks exhausted, with their manes unkempt and their eyes sunken in.

“Hurry up,” he grumbles, adjusting his hat on his head. “I need a drink. And then, I’m out of here.”

You don’t know why he’s telling you this. Surely he can leave now, right? He doesn’t need to hang around with you anymore. But when he gives you an expectant look, you tie your horse up next to his and follow him into the tavern, his shadow stretching along your own.

He’s a strange man, Kenny Ackerman. Maybe you’re better off giving up on trying to figure him out.

The inside of the tavern is bleak and musty. The floor is damp, and somewhere in the distance, you can hear water dripping from the ceiling. The scent of smoke coils around the room, so thick you can practically see the cloud over the customers’ heads. A far cry from what you’re used to at the castle’s dining hall.

And the customers? The mere sight of them sends a chill down your spine. Three brawny men, hunched over their shared table, mugs of ale in their hands. One of them, a balding man with a scraggly beard, eyes you coldly. You swallow hard and inch just a little bit closer to Kenny. Hopefully he doesn’t realize how nervous you are…

But then you glance up at him, and one look at his face tells you he knows. Kenny is an observant man, and he seems to catch on rather quickly. And he doesn’t take his eyes off you until the two of you take a seat at one of the vacant tables, at the far end of the tavern.

“Loosen up a bit,” he mumbles as a serving girl brings over a tankard of ale and a glass of water (for yourself, you presume). “You look like you haven’t shit in weeks.”

You blink, taken aback at his casual use of foul language. You should be used to it by now, you suppose, but it’s not your fault. You were raised to never speak such words aloud, even when you were all alone. It was distasteful and certainly not becoming of a princess.

A bitter laugh bubbles up in your throat. You remember those days, when speaking properly and acting all regal were your only worries in the world. The good old days, as your father would say.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, clearing your throat. “…I’m just a bit…scared…”

“Of what? These are your people, aren’t they?” At least he keeps his voice down. No one else in the tavern can hear him. “You should feel at home here.”

Maybe at one point, you would have felt safe and sound here. You remember visiting the nearby towns with your mother, and playing with the children, and giving freshly-picked roses to the villagers with a smile. At one point, you did see the villages as your home, and the villagers as just another part of your family.

But you haven’t been outside the castle walls in six years. You’ve forgotten how to talk and act around the people you’re sworn to protect. You’ve forgotten what they look like, how they dress, and how they talk. As much as you hate to admit it, they’re not your people anymore.

They’re Frieda’s people, whether you like it or not. Whether they like it, or not.

With your ragged dress and dirty face, it’s easy to blend in with the other villagers. Still, there’s a nagging feeling in your chest—a fear that someone will recognize you as the princess the queen’s guards are searching for. And you can’t count on them to protect you from her anymore. If they’re given the chance to save you, a girl they haven’t seen in years, or themselves and their families, you know exactly who they’ll choose.

Kenny takes another swig of ale, his face scrunching up in a grimace. But then he slides the tankard over to your side of the table, fingers barely brushing the handle.

“Have some. It’ll help take the edge off.”

Your nerves are shot anyway, so what’s the harm in tasting a bit? So you grip the cup with both hands and bring it to your lips. And almost immediately, you gag and cough, eyes brimming with hot tears.

The huntsman laughs, but it’s not one of those loud, obnoxious laughs you’ve gotten used to over the past couple days. This one is softer, more moderate in volume, and—dare you say it—almost genuine. His eyes crinkle with a smirk that teeters dangerously over the edge of being an actual smile.

“I-it’s disgusting!”

The burn in your throat is unbearable, and it feels like all the moisture in your mouth is evaporating on the spot. You swipe the glass of water to your left, gulping down huge mouthfuls as fast as you can. How can he stand to drink that and not want to puke? You can’t imagine drinking something like that just for fun.

“It’s an acquired taste,” he replies, taking the drink from your hands. “You get used to it. Besides, with the shit going on around here, we could all use a few drinks now and then.”

For some reason, you get the feeling he drinks that stuff more than just now and then. You’ve heard of the usual tavern customers—rugged older men who don’t have families to go home to, and no proper place to call their own. And judging from what you’ve seen of him so far, Kenny fits the bill almost perfectly.

“I know you.”

An icy claw grips your stomach. The balding man from the other side of the tavern is out of his seat now, dark eyes fixed on you. With a shiver, you wonder if he’s taken his eyes off you once since you walked in here.

The other men around him are staring, too. You swallow and drop your eyes, taking another swig of your water. Kenny continues to sip at his ale, seemingly unconcerned with the eyes of the men on the two of you.

“Hey!” The man’s voice is sharper now, and you visibly flinch at the sound. Kenny’s eyes burn into your face, his expression unreadable.

That’s when you see the flash of gold and violet on the man’s right sleeve, and your stomach drops like a stone.

Gold and violet. The same colors the queen’s guards bear.

They’ve found you. They’re here to take you back to her, so she can finally sink her claws into you and never let you go. What will she do to you once they bring you back? Will she kill you outright? Throw you in the dungeons for another six years? Or does she have something worse up her sleeve?

“Are you sure?” one of the men seated at the table hisses. He’s still hunched over, clutching his mug of ale tightly.

“No doubt,” the balding man replies. “That’s the one the queen is looking for.”

It’s hard to breathe. You stumble out of your seat, hands trembling like leaves at your sides. This is it.

That’s when Kenny stands up from his seat, his back still turned to the men. Even as they begin advancing toward your table, he doesn’t appear to be alarmed.

He jerks his head to the side, and out of the corner of your eye, you spot a small wooden ladder leading to the upper loft of the tavern. A silent message passes between you two: “Get out of here.”

You make a break for the ladder, and almost instantly, the clang of steel pierces the air around you. Sweat slides down your forehead as you scramble up the wooden rungs, too terrified to even look back. And even when you make it to the upper loft, you hesitate to glance back down below.

But you do, hands clenched over your mouth.

The sounds of battle—of grunts and wails and steel—are all too familiar. You still remember being hunched over in the makeshift cavern by the shallow pool, hearing the knights above battling each other as they searched for you. But it’s different now. Back then, you only heard the sounds. Now you’re forced to watch the battle itself—and for the first time, you get to see how Kenny handles himself in a fight.

Rough and rugged, he takes on the guards with ease. At first, you fear the worst—no way those little blades of his are a match for their swords. But he deflects each and every one of them with ease, his movements quite fluid for his age. He yanks one of the guards by the back of his collar and slams his face into the table, and the man groans before slumping over onto the cold stone floor.

The first guard, the one with the balding head and scraggly beard, puts up more of a fight than the others. Even when Kenny knocks out another guard and throws him into him, he only bats him away and continues to fight. Each stroke of his broadsword sends a chill down your spine. Any moment now, the sharpened blade could find Kenny’s skin.

Good riddance, you think to yourself. Isn’t that what you want? For the world to be rid of another huntsman? Why should you show any concern toward him?

But you know better than to think that way. If he dies, these men take you back to Frieda, and you’re left to meet a fate possibly worse than death itself. As much as you hate to admit it, he’s your only hope of getting out of here alive.

The man swings his sword, but Kenny dodges it with ease—and suddenly, the man’s wrist is locked and twisted behind him. The broadsword clatters to the floor with a thump, and the man grunts as Kenny yanks on his arm. Kenny lifts his knife, you see a flash of silver, and suddenly, your eyes squeeze shut. There’s a slice, a groan, and finally, the man sinks onto the wet stone floor.

You open one eye, just in time to see Kenny reach across the table and take another swig of his ale.

He clears his throat and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. “You can come down, kid. That’s the last of ’em.”

Slowly, you climb down the wooden rungs of the ladder, eyes fixed on the three fallen men around you. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a flash of movement—the serving girl from before is staring at you, eyes wide and jaw slack. Her hands tremble, much like yours did when those men recognized you.

At the glint in Kenny’s eye, you wonder if he’s going to kill her. But instead, he slides his blade into its scabbard, leans down to the balding man’s body, and snatches a familiar brown pouch out of his belt. He tosses it to the girl, and when she peeks inside to see the gold coins, her eyes grow even wider.

“Never here, you understand?” She nods eagerly, and with a huff, Kenny jerks his head toward you. “Let’s get out of here.”

Wordlessly, you follow him out of the tavern and back to the horses. Your silver mare blinks sleepily at you, and you give her a reassuring pat. Your stomach is still churning from witnessing the battle just moments prior.

Once he’s on his stallion, Kenny motions for you to follow him. But this time, you feel just a smidge safer next to him than you did before. 

[jeongi]

caught me. | jjk (m)

(edit done by my love, @httpjeon)

↣ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | jungkook x reader

↣ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 13.5k

↣ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 | roommate au. slight e2l au. smut. porn with very little plot.

↣ 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | explicit language and sexual content. mentions of vaping. mutual masturbation, sex toy usage, oral sex (f + m receiving), gagging, fingering, squirting, dirty talk, some wall fucking, riding, unprotected sex (you know the drill, wrap it up), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, jungkook has tattoos, long wavy hair and a giant schlong.

↣ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you hate your temporary roommate, jungkook and it doesn’t help that he’s been catching you at the most inconvenient of times.

“Seokjin, how could you do this to me?” You whine from the kitchen island, reflexively stabbing at the bowl of cereal in front of you. You can’t believe your roommate is just now telling you, a day before he leaves for vacation, that his “friend” will be temporarily moving in while he’s away. Of course, Seokjin pays no mind to your tantrum. Instead, he continues packing the last of his luggage in the living space, across the room. Simply rolling his eyes and heaving a sigh in response, he’s far more acquainted with your antics than he’d like to be. He could almost call you the younger sibling he most certainly never wanted, a nuisance wrapped in feigned misery. The arrangement between the two of you seemed nothing more than the result of a last-ditch Craigslist roommate search.

He should have known the consequences, he supposes.

Another sigh escapes his lips as he turns his attention away from the luggage. “_____, I’m only leaving for three months.”

You wail again, this time, your arms stretching across the cool, granite counter to push the bowl away from yourself. You’ve wholly lost your appetite, ready to wreak havoc as you slide off the stool you’re sat on and stomp your way over to him.

“I don’t care about you leaving me!” Seokjin scoffs at this statement, returning his focus to the open suitcase laid on the floor in front of him. “I care about you stuffing me in this apartment with a complete stranger while you’re gone.” What was the fucker’s name again? Jon Q, John Cook? You’re furious, but of course, Seokjin fails to take notice of this. Instead, he fishes into his pocket for his phone and scrolls through his extensive list of items to pack. He’s only gotten through half of it.

Your words don’t seem to have much of an impact on him, fueling your fury. “What if he tries to murder me? Or even worse, what if I end up murdering him? You won’t even be here to help me hide the body— this is a travesty!” This is followed with another signature sigh, all drama, your wrist shooting up to your forehead as you dab at invisible sweat.

You briefly think you might actually hate Seokjin.

He pauses, dropping his phone into the open luggage before craning his head towards you. Blinking, purely baffled by the lunacy he has to constantly put up with, he internally gives his utmost gratitude to the heavens that his work has sent him on this European trip tomorrow. Three clean months of the peaceful canals of Venice, the Colosseum in Rome, the Eiffel Tower in Paris and most importantly, three lovely quiet months away from you. Suddenly, three months no longer seems an eternity to him. How could it? He assesses you top to bottom, seeing nothing more than a rabid young woman scorned, hands placed sternly on her hips, expectant of a reply.

No sir, three months is not long enough at all.

Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing his eyes shut as he speaks through gritted teeth. “You are the most melodramatic person I know— you think you can afford to pay my rent for the next three months?” This shuts you up momentarily.

For a moment, you’re disarmed. You can’t argue that he’s right, and you hate admitting it’s the only reason for your new (temporary) roommate.

Releasing his nose, he looks at you, warming a little. “Look, he asked to stay here -temporarily- until he finds his own place. He’s my best friend; wouldn’t you do the same for yours?”

That final bit had the effect he wanted it to, and boy, did it sting. Of course, you’d do the same for your best friend. The only trouble is that you know very little information about this John Cook character, only getting brief details about him moving into the big city for the first time and Seokjin “graciously” providing him a rental until he can find something more permanent. It isn’t a fault on Seokjin’s half. You just don’t know the poor bastard.

Beyond that, you know this guy is a Taekwondoin, moving here to join one of the most prestigious Taekwondo academies in the country. Your blood runs cold in a sudden rush, a certain grim realization dawning on you that you’d absolutely be no match for him if he did try to kill you. Perhaps Seokjin has told you so late because he too wants you dead. You really shouldn’t have met him through Craiglist.

You consider leaving a lengthy, final Tumblr post in remembrance of your inevitable end, hoping one of your 12 followers would come forth and save you from a gruesome slashing. At best, someone saves your life. At worst, you’ve written your own eulogy.

Huffing a breath of frustration, something akin to a groan escapes you as you march back to the kitchen island for your now soggy bowl of cereal. It only fuels your now quiet rage further, but pettiness takes over, mentally muting Seokjin’s yelling profanities after watching you dispose of one of his favourite glass bowls. It’s the least you can do as revenge.

As it turns out, Jeon Jungkook is a nearly six feet tall mural of muscle and inked skin that rarely stays home. His dark wavy hair falls gracefully past his large doe eyes, and his plethora of tattoos litter the tight expanse of his neck and arms. Notably, the blossom of two red roses painted over the porcelain of his neck.

Though verbally a silent roommate, you find he vapes far too much and equally plays far too much Fortnite at odd hours of the night. He only comes out of his room to either make himself food or to leave the apartment, and a couple of times you could have almost sworn he might’ve been doing his laundry. He’s a feast to lay eyes on, that much is irrefutable but he leaves at least one utensil unwashed after eating, irritating you to an unprecedented degree.

Jungkook also enjoys eating ramen at two in the morning- you know this because it wakes you up almost every time you hear the microwave blare its oppressive siren. He also figures he must shower each time he returns home from being out, suitably fattening your poor water bill. You’ve only briefly spoken to him a handful of times, mostly about house rules and a tour of the facilities.

It’s only been two weeks since he’s arrived, yet you already seem to despise him- sending Seokjin angry messages from across the globe about this, all of which have been ignored. You’ve been too busy lately anyway, rarely seeing Jungkook who seems to be out for most of the day.

However, it’s today that you finally catch him when you’re just coming home from work. He sits at the kitchen island, flipping through a comic while he loudly chomps on an open bag of shrimp chips, pausing to look at you as you make your way inside.

You’re on speakerphone with your friend Nari, both of your arms too occupied and laden with groceries to normally hold the phone to your ear. Upon seeing this, Jungkook gets up from his seat and immediately rushes to lend a hand. He’s completely shirtless, his loose dark sweatpants hugging the low subtle curve of his hips, and it’s only then that you notice the mosaic of more tattoos scattered across his skin beyond his full sleeves and the two red roses on his neck. He has much more than you had initially seen, a large black and white snake running over his pelvic bone. It draws your eyes forward, let’s it linger over to his bare abdomen, untouched with ink and defined with muscle. You can see it evidently, the indents carved into him as if he’s been sculpted from the finest of limestone.

You catch yourself from staring, thanking him with a silent bow of your head as he turns away from you, all the bags of groceries now racked effortlessly down his taut arms. Your momentary and involuntary ogling is cut short by Nari’s voice booming through the loudspeaker of your phone.

“God, you really need to get laid soon- I’m tired of you being so grumpy.” You freeze, nearly choking on your own saliva. “I already deal with one grump on a daily, I don’t need to add another to my inventory.”

Fuck. “Yeah, well, working on it!” You titter nervously into the microphone. It’s all in vain, for Nari is relentless in her pursuits.

“Didn’t you say your new roommate was hot? Just fuck him, that’d be pretty convenient. It’s like, like...dick-on-demand!” She laughs, guffawing into the mic as though it’s the most hilarious thing she has ever said. You stand there, eyes wide and mortified as the cackle from the other end of the line sounds more villainous than genuine humour. Her words linger still in the air, and a very deep desire to Crtl+Z yourself from life’s current existence fills your petrified body.

You know Jungkook has heard the words because he pauses in his step very briefly, faint stutters in his movement as his back stays turned towards you. Before you catch the slightest motion of his head about to look over his shoulder, you’re whipping around and fumbling for your phone. With the greatest deft you can muster, your thumbs desperately try smashing the giant red ‘end call’ button.

To no avail, the phone screen freezes, Nari’s cackling report still filing through.

You think this feels like a nightmare. In fact, you’re certain you’ve had a nightmare precisely like this before. Except this is real, very much real and you’re humiliated. cheeks surely flushed crimson as you tut in annoyance at your malfunctioning product of capitalism.

Jungkook simply clears his throat and continues moving towards the kitchen once again, acting as if nothing has happened. Under any other circumstances, you would almost be offended, but given the current nature of what has just transpired, you both let the feeling pass. “Anyway,” Nari continues and you wish she’d shut up. “I gotta go, Yoongi just got Minecraft and I’m going to give him the best head of his life,” she groans into the mic in satisfaction. “I love you, bye!” She cuts the mic, completely and blissfully unaware of the impending Armageddon she’s inadvertently spawned. You’re stood there in horrified silence, counting to five in your head before you’re very anxiously swivelling around.

You open your mouth to say something, but words fail you. What could you even say?

Jungkook cuts in. “I’ll uh, put these away. Don’t worry about it.” He beams you a rather charming grin, completely devoid of any awkward tension that filled the air moments ago. Somehow, this surprises you far more than if he had acknowledged it.

You thank him with haste, your feet acting much quicker than your head as you swiftly cut across the kitchen towards the hallway where your bedroom stands. Avoiding eye contact at all costs, your face is surely now painted just as red as Jungkook’s bag of shrimp chips on the counter.

Perhaps it’s to ease yourself more than anything that you decide to get angry over this situation. You’re not angry at Nari, no, you’re angry at Jungkook. Who was he to waltz into your apartment and have you monitor your phone calls? And be shirtless nonetheless? Had he no manners? Why should you have to tiptoe around him? You think if this were Seokjin, he wouldn’t nearly make everything so uncomfortable for you in your own place of living. Seokjin would also wash all his dishes and sleep at a reasonable time. This thought only fuels you more.

The words slip out of you before you can even comprehend stopping. “For Christ’s sake wear a shirt while I’m home, I don’t need to see you prancing half naked around the apartment. This isn’t Magic Mike, it’s home- my home.” You bark, halting Jungkook in his movements as he goes to place a new carton of milk into the fridge. He turns to look at you, the dangle of his silver earrings glinting against the light and you almost grimace at how attractive he looks in this moment.

Before he can respond, you’re pivoting away from him and walking towards your bedroom.

You slam your door with a thud and let out a strangled groan. Perhaps it was too harsh, the anger is now replaced with further distress. You toss yourself onto your mattress, stuffing your face into the nearest pillow and restraining yourself with every ounce of self-control you have from screaming your lungs out into it.

You hadn’t even called Jungkook hot, you had mentioned that he was conventionally attractive- which wasn’t a lie in the slightest. You’re half tempted to call her back and scold her good for the humiliation she’s so blissfully unaware of causing, but as you pick up your phone, a text flashes across your screen with a name you’re all too familiar with. And all too soon, your agitation grinds to a halt, dissipates and metamorphosizes into a goofy, toothy grin.

Taehyung - [1 New Text Message]

Kim Taehyung works just across the room from you on the seventh floor of the accounting firm. He has rich blonde hair and plump pink lips that he constantly wets with a dab of his tongue. You swear he’s been purposely winding you up recently, the brushes against your skin too frequent, the lingering stares too prolonged and the husk in his voice too low when he speaks to you. You’ve had a crush on Taehyung since you’ve started working at the firm, two years ago. Of course, he’s completely unaware of this.

5:44pm [Taehyung]: Hey, can I ask you for a favour?

The squeal you let out is unbearable, even to you. You feel the reminiscence of being back in middle school when your sixth-grade crush, Park Jimin had asked you to the Halloween dance. Of course, that night had ended terribly for you, catching Jimin and your rival, Sooya slow dancing while you went to get unnaturally lukewarm fruit punch from the snack bar. But much like right now, you remember the butterflies fluttering through your entire body the night before the dance.

Feeling the crimson warmth return to your cheeks, you clutch your phone to your chest while a coy smile stretches across your lips. You practice your well-rehearsed, five-minute wait before texting Taehyung back, typing and retyping your response until you’re satisfied with a legible reply. Pursing your lips, you go back and forth between adding a smiley face or not, ultimately choosing to go with one just to further the delusions in your head that adding one will somehow make him fall madly in love with you.

5:50pm [You]: of course you can! :)

You gasp when your phone vibrates within seconds, a giddy coo leaving you as his name flashes once more across your screen. You slap a hand over your mouth when you hear the footsteps of Jungkook pass by your door, your eyes darting towards the shadow of his feet seen just underneath the crack of your door. His room- rather Seokjin’s room- is right next door to yours, another unfortunate occurrence in your miserable life.

5:50pm [Taehyung]: Could you possibly drop me off at the airport tomorrow morning? I’ll treat you to breakfast on the way!!

Your grin grows tenfold, your teeth clutching your bottom lip in its hold as you glide your fingers over the keyboard with an answer.

5:52pm [You]: it’d be my pleasure!!

It seems as if everyone but you and Jungkook were going away on vacation from this hell city. Perhaps you may be in need of one too.  

You drop Taehyung off at the airport at five in the morning. You think it should be illegal for anyone to wake up at such an hour. You hadn’t had much time to sleep, Jungkook’s nightly ramen snacking occurring at exactly two in the morning, just two hours before you were supposed to be awoken by the chirps of your alarm. As if the morning couldn’t have gotten any worse, you had learned Taehyung was travelling abroad to meet his very long-term and long-distance girlfriend for the first time. Your luck seems to have worsened as you’ve aged. All the signs you thought you’d seen of him visibly showing his interest in you had all been in your head.

By the time you reach home, it’s six, the sun barely peeking through the hillside view from your apartment and your eyes are droopy, heavy with sleep. A yawn escapes you as you place your keys on the kitchen counter before you kick off your shoes and shuffle towards the living room in a slump. You plop onto the couch, releasing a long exhale as you lift your feet up to lay more comfortably.

Briefly, you think you should stay up and get your day started, as you reckon most people who have their shit together would do as such. Unfortunately for your itinerary, you’re not most people and you’re certainly not someone who has their shit together. You’re _____ and you’re now dreaming, dreaming of a single Kim Taehyung.

His mouth is on yours, golden locks under the tight grip of your fingers and his cock is steadily rocking into you, fingers digging into your sides. He has you seated on the bathroom counter, your legs circled around his waist as his sharp thrusts elicit the neediest of cries from you.

“Taehyung!” You’re moaning, eyes rolled so far back into your skull, you feel the pull of your optic nerve. Loosening your grip on Taehyung’s hair, he moves away from your mouth and rests his forehead in the crook of your neck. Every curve of his dick plunges in calculated fashion into your cunt, egging you closer to your undoing.

Another sharp thrust has your entire body shuddering, a lapse of jitters filling you as your orgasm rumbles through you. When Taehyung lifts his head from the crook of your neck, you gasp. For when you look at his face, it’s no longer Taehyung, it’s now Jungkook.

He offers a lopsided smirk, an indent of his dimple forming around the right side of his mouth while a finger trails down your cheek.

“Wake up,” the apparition whispers.

You gasp awake, spine shooting upright as you heave heavy breaths. Skimming your hands over your face, you let out a frustrated groan, bewilderment and daze hitting you as you land right back to reality.

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” You hear a low voice and you immediately shriek, arms hugging yourself in a mock attempt to hide yourself even if you are fully clothed at the moment. You look over, glancing at the tall, frozen figure stood in the kitchen. His doe eyes are wide, startled by your reaction, dark hair wavy and long, clinging around the edge of his pale face and you can see the faintest trace of the red ink on his neck underneath the loose collar of his black hoodie. He’s got a knife in one hand and a half-cut tomato laid on a cutting board in front of him. “I-I was going to wake you up for lunch but…” His face has suddenly flushed to a shade of rose, tongue swiftly dabbing at his bottom lip. He clears his throat and hesitates before looking away. “Y-you seemed engrossed in your sleep, I didn’t want to wake you up.” What was that supposed to mean?

When you look behind him, the pot on the stove is steaming and it’s then that you catch the aroma of sauteed onions and oregano. Naturally, your mouth instantly waters, eyes glancing over to the digital clock that displays itself on the stove. It reads as five minutes past noon and you rub your eyes with the back of your hand before you’re blinking towards the time again. Had you really passed out for a solid six hours? How long had Jungkook been here? “You...don’t have work today?” You swallow, slowly raising up your feet.

Jungkook merely chuckles and shakes his head no. The silver of his dangling earrings swings with this motion. “I’m not working yet, I’m a student at Master Seong’s.” You had almost forgotten about the Taekwondo Academy, it’s the exact reason he’s now standing here in your kitchen cutting tomatoes. “Hopefully, I’ll be the one teaching by next year.” As he speaks, you notice he has a perfect set of pearly whites but then you think of course he does- anything that would make Jeon Jungkook less perfect at this point would be a micropenis. For whatever reason, that makes your blood boil but as much as you’re in disdain, the thought instantly brings attention to a sweltering puddle between your legs.

Your head shoots down, feet shifting uncomfortably as you feel a slick cling against your panties and it’s then that every aspect of your sex dream hits you in a movie montage. You had fully and wholeheartedly dreamt of Jungkook fucking you.

You gasp, unwillingly, feet losing balance before you catch yourself against the counter. Jungkook pauses and looks at you, a tentative eyebrow cocking in your direction in question.

“Is everything alright?” He asks, more curious than considerate. His voice seems to ebb and flow with the sultry ease that only he could— my god, maybe you do need to get laid.

You use your elbows to push yourself off the counter before you’re walking over to the stove, body brushing against Jungkook’s back as you reach for the vent switch.

“Next time you cook something, turn on the exhaust fan or else it’ll get smokey in here.” You say, voice stoic like ice in this smothering heat, ignoring the blatant arousal seeping out of your cunt. You brush past him once more to make way towards the hallway.

Jungkook sighs in defeat, watching as your figure disappears into your bedroom.

The moth outside your window bats against the patio light with a fierce determination that boggles your mind. You wonder what might be going through the moth’s head: does it ponder this alien, man-made warmth it now feverishly flutters around? Does it understand it in the slightest? Why else would such a simple creature be breaking the peace of a sticky midsummer’s eve?

You glance at the clock on your dresser. It’s now half past midnight, and you’re dying in this stupid heat. Perhaps it didn’t help that you had a six-hour nap, impressed by your ability to do so in broad daylight. And you can’t get it out of your head, the dream. It’s kept you horny all day- in need of relief. You think about the last time you’ve had sex, a one night stand with a tall, polite gentleman named Namjoon. It was quite possibly the best sex you’ve ever had, a shame you never caught his number.

With a less than pathetic groan of protest, you put your head between the pillow and the mattress, savouring the seconds of coolness that surround your head in a desperate bid to lower the temperature however you can. Something’s got to be better than stringing sex and a fucking invertebrate into the same train of thought this late at night.

Raising your head up from the pillow, you weigh your options. You’re not about to drink yourself to sleep, and your secret supply of ZzzQuil has run dry. Fortunately, you have a solution.

It’s nights like tonight that you can’t hold yourself back, orgasms helped you sleep better anyway. Your vibrator mocks you, blinking as it charges for the first time in weeks. You hear Jungkook shuffle on the other side of the room, your teeth gnawing at your bottom lip as you quietly reach your bedside table for a pair of headphones. You grasp at odds and ends until your fingers find purchase, and with a small sense of victory, you pull a very tangled mess of headphones from the drawer. You hear a cough on the other side and pause, gulping as if you’re fourteen all over again and just discovered the fruits of pleasuring yourself for the first time.

The vibrator’s LED light switches to a solid green, indicating its readiness to abuse your very untouched clit. You flush at the thought, yet eager as the familiar moisture pools in between your legs. You’re suddenly all too ready, all too demanding of the touch of a toy that you haven’t felt in too long. Why had you been putting this off for so long?

Unplugging it from the outlet next to your bed, you slip off your shorts and lay comfortably back onto your mattress. Another blush creeps onto your cheeks, your thumb unlocking your phone and opening the Chrome app. Making sure to switch to a private browser, you hesitantly type it in.

‘Pornhub’

The link loads embarrassingly quickly and you flush further, a mix of both the heat and your self chagrin marking the apples of your cheeks. You don’t even know what to look for, the home page overwhelming you with a variety of sinful thumbnails, begging to be clicked on. It almost makes you grimace in distaste, suddenly too aware of your surroundings and the situation at hand. You decide against pornography, gripping onto your imagination as you toss your phone aside and clear your throat, settling back onto the mattress with your eyes closed.

You’ll think about Namjoon. His broad hands, slender fingers and that deliciously thick cock. His moans, his honey skin and the way he was able to make you come twice that night.

Spreading your legs apart, you fixate the vibrator against your heat, gasping at the cool tip of the silicone already sensitive against your clit. You’re already soaked, the head gliding over your clit with slick.

It feels wrong when you turn the device on, the low buzz of vibrations filling the air. Brows knitted together, you picture Namjoon again. Trying to imagine the stroke of his tongue against your folds as the buzz of your vibrator rings through you, you gasp at the overwhelming sensation. Why didn’t you do this more often? You try to stay quiet, breathing growing laboured as the image of Namjoon between your legs morphs into something else. Rather, it morphs into someone else.

You see it in your head, your fingers threading through dark curls, legs pinned apart by two ink-sleeved arms. When you look down, you’re met by the intense gaze of brown doe eyes, his brows furrowed as his tongue flicks relentlessly against you. It’s almost as he’s smirking at you, the slightest quirk in his eyebrow implying that he knows he’d fucking you well with only his tongue. The image makes you shudder, shaking your head as you kick this sick fantasy out of your mind. Were you out of your mind?

On the other side of the room, Jungkook’s ears perk up to the sound of this low buzz. He hadn’t realized you were still awake. But as the buzzing intensifies, and a rhythmic deep breathing follows, it soon grows impossible to ignore. He has to be certain. Cautiously removing one earphone, he almost leans into the noise, cocking his head to the side.

No, that’s definitely you, alright.

You gasp as you apply more pressure to your clit, eyes rolling back from the waves of vibrations surging through your entire body. You can’t get it out of your head, imagining Jungkook’s taut arms holding you down, his tongue unforgiving against you. The moan that escapes you is wholly on accident, a hand slapping against your mouth in an attempt to silence yourself further.

Jungkook sits at his desk, dumbfounded. Were you really doing what he thought you were? Surely not. It’s then that hears the moan. It penetrates the thin wall that separates the two of you and stirs a familiar twitch in his boxers. He feels it press against the fabric, stretching with every heartbeat that knocks against his ribcage. His breathing begins to deepen, only letting his imagination wander as to what you were doing in this moment, merely a few feet away.

No, he thinks. Absolutely not. Behave yourself.

You’re…well, you’re moaning.

Fuck this, Jungkook’s inner dialogue protests. If you’re not going to play fair, then neither is he. He rises from his desk, tripping slightly over his office chair, clattering the plastic wheels against the hardwood floor. The sound reverberates through what feels like the entire house, and the silence is broken by the impact, which by all accounts seems far too noisy for its own good.

Jungkook freezes, terrified. The buzzing ceases just as suddenly, and the air is replaced with an undesirable discomfort.

Inside your room, your left hand tightens over your mouth the other switches off the vibrator. The kerfuffle seemed to have occurred frighteningly close, prompting a sudden cease to desist all sinful pleasures. The anxieties come in waves, one after another. Did he hear you? Oh God, how long was he listening? Was that even him?

A painful eternity passes. The silence fills the house once more, the crickets outside resuming their nightly song.

Jungkook half expects you to barge into his room, fuming at him for being a pervert and listening in but your feared assault never comes. If anything, his cock only seems to grow harder, the thought of you pleasuring yourself just on the other side of the wall so alluring, he begins to palm himself over his boxers.

You, on the other hand, upon the silence, convince yourself that he hadn’t heard after all. Surely, it was something else, Jungkook had probably already gone to bed.

Jungkook. Your lips form the shape of his name but no sound comes out, only a heavy exhale. This is wrong, beyond inappropriate and downright vulgar. It’s the dimples, you try to argue with yourself. Or those eyes, a deep coffee brown that take away from his masculine frame. It almost brings a childlike charm, distracts you from the surfeit of tattoos that mark his muscular build.

With impatience, you start the vibrator again, placing the device over your clit once more. You’re soaked beyond control, your own fingers itching to be stuffed inside yourself. Thumb hitting the setting button, the buzz of vibrations grow an octave higher as the intensity of the second setting rolls over your bead with a blast of euphoric pleasure. It’s almost too much, legs clamping shut as the judder of silicone repeatedly assaults your clit. Your panting growing quicker, inching you to tip over the edge. Oh, how you yearned to be filled with a cock.

“Fuck,” Jungkook mutters under his breath, giving into the barbaric thoughts in his head. Quietly, he slides his boxers down his thighs and situates himself back onto his desk chair. His cock is throbbing, tip a blushed pink as his heartbeat begins to resonate harder. Were you doing this on purpose? Were you testing him? Teasing him? He rests his head back, eyes fluttering to a close as he holds the base of his painfully erect cock with his right hand.

His hand slowly begins to slide up and down his own length, twisting slightly whenever his fingers cross over his glans. The sensation fills him with ecstasy, and he can’t help but gasp as he tightens his grip and continues to stroke his cock. He thinks of you, on the other side of the wall with your legs spread, flushed and begging to be fucked. How well he’d fit inside you, how well you’d take him in your tight cunt and how you’d whimper his name into his ear. With these thoughts, his pace on himself quickens, breaths laboured against the air. This was wrong, so wrong but hearing you like this, imagining you sprawled on your bed in desperate need of his touch only pushes him further to his climax.

For a moment, he thinks about risking it all and just ripping your door open to fuck you into your next existence. He stays planted onto the leather seat, his hands roaming in a familiar rhythm.

You are minutes, seconds away from seeing strings of white. It’s when you raise your vibrator to its third setting that you come undone, biting the inside of your cheek as your orgasm plummets you to a new horizon and Jungkook’s name sits at the edge of your tongue.

You feel it spray out of you, your arousal sprinkling over your bed sheets in a clear indication of your collapse. You gasp and shudder, quick to turn off the device as its relentless motion becomes far too much for your sensitive clit.

You lay for a moment, gathering your bearings as your high lingers between the furrow of your eyebrows. Your head feels heavy, sleep overtaking every inch of your body and you begin nodding off almost instantaneously, vibrator still in hand. It’s when you shift to doze more comfortably that your thigh makes contact with a cool, wet splotch.

Your eyes spring open and you’re sitting up, flicking on your bedside lamp. You have just squirted all over your sheets, the damp puddle prominent and deride. You sit there in disbelief, blinking at the mess between your legs. You frown, suddenly becoming aware of the incessant pounding in your head from your high and you curse yourself for making such a mess.

Now you have to do the laundry, there’s no way you could sleep in these.

Jungkook is close, frustratingly so…it won’t take much at this rate for him to blow his load all over himself. He places his hand firmly around the chair handle, fingers gripping against the plastic. His other hand strokes faster than ever before, breaths deepening. And as he reaches his climax, the quietest of moans escape his lips, followed by your name. It’s so soft on his tongue, it feels uncouth. The trail of white fluid follows, spurts out of his cock and onto his stomach. He pants, quick to milk every ounce of himself with the squeeze of his palm around the edge of his head and then he’s reaching for his water bottle, taking a cool swig of the liquid.

He has to shower now, there’s no way he could sleep like this.

As you unhook the last of your sheets from the mattress, you quickly roll the fabric into a giant ball within your arms. You’re on your tippy-toes, hesitantly reaching for your door as you twist the knob and pull the barrier open. You look around, relieved to see the hallway engulfed in complete darkness. Jungkook’s door is closed, no light emitting through the cracks which means he must be asleep. Gingerly, you close the door behind you and tiptoe towards the end of the hall where the laundry room is- attached to the shared washroom.

You’re quick to stuff the sheets into the washer, loading the detergent into the cartridges and powering on the machine. The room’s lights aren’t even on, you’re too lazy to find them. Besides, the stark moonlight and LED of the washing machine are plenty of light enough. When you’ve set the machine to its cycle, you ponder on what the hell you can do with no bedsheets to aid in your sleep and your body covered in sweat.

Even if you are hotter than before, sweatier than before, slumber takes a toll on your body. Your head feels weighted, drowsy from your hard climax. You think a shower would work best, turning to go back into your room for a change of clothes when you bump into something, rather someone.

You shriek and take cover under your raised arms, a soft glow of white light sifting through the crack of your arms as the washroom lights get flickered on. Raising your head out of the shield of your arms, you find Jungkook standing in front of you, void of a shirt and clad by only a pair of boxers.

“Jungkook, what the fuck?” You can’t help it, your eyes wander, rake him from head to toe. You can see it, the ever so light outline of a bulge, something that is definitely nowhere near a micropenis.

“I was just...about to shower. I’m sorry- I didn’t know you would be out here, I would’ve worn more clothes” His gaze is soft with worry and you’re reminded of your earlier outburst. It was quite hypocritical of yourself when you’ve just fucked yourself on a sex toy to scandalous thoughts of him. His eyes flickers to the low drone of the washer and then back to you. “You’re doing laundry?”

Your cheeks flush, your voice hitching in your throat as you promptly pull up an excuse as to why you’re doing laundry at nearly two in the morning. “I-I spilled some tea on my sheets, I have to wash them.” You hope it’s convincing enough. “I was about to shower too.”

Jungkook regards you carefully, expecting a scolding for even asking but it never comes. You’re flustered and painted a shade of red he is familiar with. He’s only familiar with it because he too is the same shade of red. You two had been pleasuring yourselves, separately yet simultaneously. The memory almost brings a fresh wave of lust.

“Why are you showering at-” you glance at the time on your phone, “-one o’clock at night?” Jungkook doesn’t expect this question from you. You had never been interested in anything he did other than if it was something bothersome to scold over. He clears his throat and uses his slender fingers to push his hair back. You reckon he’ll need a haircut soon.

“I was exercising in my room.” Technically, masturbation was a certain form of exercise…  

The air is stiff, you feel it. It crosses both of your minds, had you heard one another? Was it obvious? You shift on the balls of your feet, teeth crashing down on your bottom lip. “Well, who’s gonna shower first?” You eye his practically unclad figure. It’s impossible to not take notice of the Adonis belt that leads your vision straight to his casual bulge. You look away. “Technically I was here first.”

Jungkook chuckles and pokes the inside of his cheek with a tongue. “Technically this is your house too, right?”

Your head drops to the ground, a shameful pout crossing over your features. Perhaps you were too harsh earlier, but you may just be feeling this way from the endorphins.

You go against the wish for a shower, it’s the least you can do. “I’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight, just letting you know. Please don’t make food at some obscure hour of the night or I will kill you.” With that, you push past him, your shoulder knocking against his arm as you head towards the living room.

To Jungkook, there’s something so beguiling about your clear disdain for him. He merely observes you from where he stands, feeling another rush of blood make way to his cock. How could you so ignorantly disregard that you had just been touching yourself? Did you really not know he could hear you? It baffles him, leaves him with another hard-on as he turns away, closing the washroom door behind him before he’s turning on the shower.

Today, you’ve had a shitty day.

Kim Taehyung has put in his two weeks' notice. He’s quitting this job to move halfway across the world and live with his girlfriend abroad and your boss had informed you one of your very own clients have committed tax fraud, costing your firm thousands. Along with this, you’ve spilled coffee over your white button-up and the hair tie holding your crisp bun up had snapped to unleash your unbrushed, unwashed owl’s nest.

When you walk into the apartment, you almost don’t want to look at your reflection in the mirror. It was strategically placed in the foyer by Seokjin, his scientific reasoning behind it being so he could start a positive day by looking at himself one last time before leaving the house. This logic seems like bullshit to you now. Your hair is a lion’s mane, your black bra visible against the translucent, chestnut coffee stain on your chest and your face is shiny from the amount of sweat you’ve had building up throughout the day from this sweltering heat.

Kicking off your heels, you take notice that Jungkook’s Pumas don’t take their usual occupancy on the shoe rack. This means he’s not home and this means, he wouldn’t be seeing you in this state. Relief floods over you.

Somewhere prior to the halfway point of Jungkook’s stay, your animosity for his presence seems to have expired ever so slightly. Perhaps it had to do with your newfound liking towards him from your late-night fantasies, or maybe it was because he had actually been putting more effort into working around the house as of late.

You barely see him now, and when you do, he’s usually made your food along with his own or he’s left you sticky notes telling you he’s taken out the garbage for you or cleaned the washroom. It has warmed your rigid heart but only to an extended degree.

Carding your fingers through your hair, you tame as much of it as you can before you’re unbuttoning your dress shirt and letting the air dry it out. Your bra feels slick against your skin, the mixture of coffee and sweat too unbearable. You unclip it from behind and toss it onto the bar stool by the kitchen island.

After opening the fridge for a can of iced tea, you walk over to the pantry for a snack to accompany the icy, perspiring drink. But before you can make it, you suddenly take notice of it, the twinkling mound of silverware against the sunlight seeping through the windowpane. You look down at the small pile of unwashed cutlery in the stainless steel sink, an inferno flickering in your chest.  

The feeling crawls back, the feeling of wanting to reinforce your disapproval of him. It’s an emotional memory, screaming at you to go back to your familiar disdain, to a more comfortable habit. Or maybe it’s your horrible day, everything bad that’s happened leading up to this breakdown. You feel like an overly emotional pregnant lady, getting fired up over unwashed spoons and forks but you can’t push it down. You’re seeing red.

A click is heard from the bathroom down the hall, followed by the tune of a cheerful whistle. You wrap the open ends of your shirt around your chest, crossing your arms as you stand in the kitchen and await the figure’s emergence from the shadowy refuge of the hallway. Jungkook now appears at the mouth of the hall, one arm rubbing a small towel against his wet hair and the other clutching the towel hanging off his hips. Upon seeing you, his whistle abruptly drops.

“Hey,” he begins nervously. “I didn’t know you’d be home—”

The words come out of you like rapid-fire, all “good deeds” he’s ever done as a roommate escaping through the vents. “You…” You begin, and he winces. “Do you see this?” You point to the sink. “How fucking hard is it to wash your own forks and spoons? Fuck, I’m so tired of picking up after you!”

You’re really unable to stop yourself, weeks of pent-up frustrations just now unleashing, lashing against the boy with such vigor, you can see a gulp send his Adam's apple to a bob. “For the record, if you’re going to smoke, do it the absolute farthest away from the apartment- I cannot stand the scent of fake strawberries and watermelon anymore.” Your arm motions towards the hallway, your foot stomping with it. Jungkook’s gaze very briefly strays to your shirt that unravels, just barely covering your breasts. Were you not wearing a bra?

“For every shower you take after the initial one, you have to set aside two dollars extra towards the water bill and for the love of all things holy, please start eating dinner at a reasonable time- you make it impossible to like you when I’m forced to wake up at two in the morning almost every single night.” With one push off the counter, you’re off towards the hallway to your bedroom, the heat of Jungkook’s stare burning into the back of your skull as you pass by him.

Jungkook sighs.

“I try, you know.” His quiet words halt you in your steps. “I knew you never liked me but I never knew why...that much was always a mystery. It never stopped me from trying to be the best damn roommate you’re ever going to have.” You twist around, taking in his stance. Now his arms are crossed, the towel once on his head now draped over his arm. “And yet you still hate me.”

You’re disarmed, mouth suddenly dry as you take in his words. Jungkook continues. “I...I just don’t get it- and I have to admit it’s a little disheartening,” He takes an idle step forward. “I don’t know what to expect from you- one moment you’re scolding me and the next…” His eyes trail to the exposed delve between your breasts, carefully covered underneath your unbuttoned shirt. You coil into yourself, wrapping your shirt over your chest again as you shift your gaze to the marks of ink blossomed over his skin. “And the next you’re staring at me.” Steadily dragging his gaze back up towards your eyes, he smirks and speaks again. “Kind of like you’re staring right now.”

If there’s one thing you hate the most, it’s being called out. Your pride is wounded and you rise to the challenge, huffing a bemused breath. You shoot back with faux scorn. “I’m only staring because you’re practically naked in front of me. Have you no decency in the presence of a woman?” This makes Jungkook cock an eyebrow, and he finds himself closing more distance between the two of you.

He laughs, mirthless but nonetheless amused by your rebuke. “Usually in the presence of a woman like you, decency is the last thing on my mind.” Leisurely, you’re losing each other in one another’s gaze.

You scoff. “Like me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t play coy, you and I both know you’re not near as good as you think you are.”

This statement catches you off guard, wholeheartedly. Your breath hitches in your throat as your eyes flicker between the towel that’s barely clinging around his waist to his eyes that have seemingly darkened, ablaze with something akin to salacity. Jungkook licks his lips, the length of his damp hair sending a tiny trickle of water down the side of his face. “And that doesn’t even count all the weird shit I’ve heard in this house.” Now you’re the one gulping, frozen in place as he takes another step closer. “You moan in your sleep, you moan when you touch yourself at night...” Your eyes widen in horror, he had heard you that night and possibly every night after that.

“I’ll never forget what your friend said on the phone, you know. With lips like that…you make it impossible to forget anything about you.”

Shit.

He’s gotten closer, much closer. With anyone else, the lack of distance between you would be nothing short of uncomfortable and unwanted, but you find yourself pulled towards him. The closing of the gap between you is mutual, and before you have a chance to shoot back a reply, his lips are hovering above yours. “Pretty lips that make pretty noises.” And then, his mouth is on yours.

Your knees nearly give out.

Before anything else, you’re filled with shock, an invasive shock. How could he be doing this?

He… He’s…he’s actually a pretty good kisser. You’re swept away, his arms cocooning around you. His lips pillow against your own, his tongue the taste of mint.

Jungkook is damp from his shower, his skin slick and cool under your touch as you slide your arms around his neck. This motion beckons you closer, pushing your lips harder against his. He walks you backwards and you follow suit, mouths remaining on one another as your back hits the wall right next to your bedroom door. There is absolutely no turning back now.

His hands are sliding down your body, feeling every curve of your body underneath his palms as he squeezes and kneads until he’s reached your ass. You moan into his mouth when he grabs handfuls of your bottom, a calculated grip that he uses to push your pelvic bone against his growing erection. This invites his tongue into your parted mouth, taking in the taste of yours into his own. They cushion around each other, a synchronous valse that only grows the moisture in between your legs. You feel his want for you build against your stomach, the thickness that lays just beyond his towel.

Jungkook’s teeth find the plump of your bottom lip, a gentle gnaw at the flesh before he’s tugging at it. The whimper you let out only elicits a growl to emit from his chest, the hands on your ass now sliding up your sides until they’re cupping your face. It’s then that his clear want for you becomes evident, a taut prominence poking against your stomach.

“M’Jungkook…” You whimper into his mouth, his right hand moving from your cheek to the base of your neck. You gasp as his palm pushes against your sternum, the fingers wrapped around your neck tightening in the slightest as you’re pushed farther against up against the wall. Jungkook hums in response, his lips relentless against your own.

His mouth works in precise vigour against your own. It’s as if he has been starved of this moment for too long, days, weeks of holding himself back. You can’t stop yourself either, not quite being able to comprehend the happenings of this exact moment. Nights of pleasuring yourself to the thought of your roommate and here you two are, your cunt seemingly progressing into an ocean of slick and his cock ready to be smothered in it.

Jungkook pulls away, and when you get a chance to look at him, his cheeks are powdered in a shade of rose, his lips marginally swollen from your heated kissing and his eyes ablaze with a craving you can’t even describe. “Not so smart with that mouth now, are you?”

You swallow thickly, words failing you. Your eyes glance towards the roses stoic on his neck. Oh, how you’d like to lick over them. The situation is beyond words, and you reckon if it hadn’t been, that actions still would fare far better than words.

Jungkook drops to his knees in front of you and fiercely grabs your hips. You inhale sharply, head dropping as your fingers instinctively grasp for purchase against his impossibly broad shoulders. They’re marked with feathers that lead down his biceps in the shape of wings. You can’t help but dig in, your nails leaving thin red crescents slashing across the ink as your back rests against the wall.

“You think you can get away moaning my name every night?” He groans, alternating between breaths and kisses around your pelvis, slowly moving past your navel. His fingers hook around the belt loops in your pants, his free hand eagerly tugging down your zipper. With precision, he pulls your pants down until you’re clad in only your underwear. Thank God, you chose today of all days to wear a thong. The baby pink silk, smooth underneath his fingertips. Jungkook looks up at you wishfully, his doe eyes radiating a boyish innocence that contradicts the ink littering his skin. But then he speaks, his voice a soft growl.

“I hope you taste as delicious as you look,” he says, not doubting for a second that you won’t as he bites the elastic of your thong. You are breathless; it’s hard not to be when Eros himself is between your legs, yearning for a taste of your dripping sex.

Your breath catches in your throat, Jungkook’s thumb skimming down your pubic bone to where you want, need it the most. You shiver as he circles against your clit through the cloth, a purposeful pressure that has you tightening your grip on his shoulders. He can feel the moisture against the fabric, your arousal clinging against the material.

“I didn’t even have to touch you and you’re already this wet for me, baby?” He licks his lips, fingers running up and down your thighs. The nickname baby stays with you, lingers and only soaks you further. You roll your head back against the wall, letting his fleeting fingers latch around the band of your thong before you feel them being tugged down your legs.

It’s almost instinctive for you to want to cross your leg over the other, to keep Jungkook from seeing you so bare and needy for him. But of course, Jungkook doesn’t let this happen. He kisses your right hip bone before tracing a bold lick diagonally down to your pelvis. Your fingers rub against his shoulders, one hand gliding up the back of his head to comb through the mass of his damp dark curls.

Jungkook hikes one of your legs over his shoulder, letting the balm of your foot rest against the delve of his back as he spreads you above him. A broad hand pushes your hip back against the wall, the one leg you’re balanced on steady underneath his aiding grip. He uses his free hand to run his second and third digit up and down your wet folds. You shiver.

He looks up at you once more. This time, a lopsided smug grin adorns his face as he beams you a set of perfect teeth, the familiar indents of his dimples marking against his lower cheeks. “I’m going to make you come so hard.” You’re moaning in response to this, leg wavering as you feel the slide of Jungkook’s forefinger push into you. He hums in appreciation, your tightness inviting the chafe of his finger. He places a chaste kiss just above your pubic bone as he begins a slow rhythmic pump of his finger.

“Fuck,” you breath out, the ridges of his calloused digit filling you far greater than your own ever has. You can’t even begin to imagine how his dick will feel, your fingers laced into his hair tightening their hold as well.

It’s when you feel the point of Jungkook’s deft tongue stroke against your clit that you cry out, his hand gripping your hip harder against the wall as he feels you waver above him. Your eyes flutter to a close, letting him have his way with you against his tongue. He uses it mercilessly, flicks pointed and dexterous against your clit as his finger pushes in and out of your tight heat. “Oh my god, Jungkook.” He inserts another finger and you nearly lose yourself.

Your eyes are rolled back, your hips involuntarily jerking away from Jungkook’s grip as they push forward in search of more of his mouth. You feel it bubbling inside you, each stroke of his fingers and each swirl of his tongue making it impossible for you to focus on anything else but this feeling. He laps around your clit, strict and continuous. When you open your eyes to look down, you see his gorgeous hair enveloped in the thread of your fingers. You’ve never been eaten out against a wall like this and it only adds more to your impending undoing.

Jungkook’s digits move quicker now, with each pump comes a curl that elicits the neediest of whimpers to fall past your lips. He feels his cock twitch with every sound you make, a melodic hymn to his ears. He alternates between sharp flicks and taking the whole of your clit with his mouth in a gentle siphon. This time there is no barrier of a wall between the two of you, this time he can hear you as vividly as he hears the tits chirp outside his window every morning and this time, you are not using a vibrator on yourself, he’s fucking you with his tongue.

He can feel you tightening against his fingers, your walls clenching unimaginably tight around him with every stroke. You are close, so very close and the feel of his relentless tongue lapping around your clit along with his slender fingers has you seeing nothing but the ceiling above you. Jungkook picks up the pace of his tongue as well, his head moving in vigour as he fervently pushes the wet muscle against your bead.

He senses it coming before you do, his tongue and fingers in a violent rhythm. You jerk above him, your hold on his hair impossibly tight as you let yourself go, crying out his name from your orgasm. He feels your squirt spray out of you, it coats his mouth and chin, sprinkling even to his chest as you shake above him. Jungkook does not stop, digits pumping even faster, tongue continuing their assault.

You chant his name as you writhe underneath his grasp. The sensation becomes too much within seconds of your orgasm but somehow his persistence makes it feel as if you can come all over again.

“J-jungkook p-please,” you beg, your fingers unraveling from his hair and tightening onto his shoulders as you try to push him away. He follows suit, unlatching his mouth from your heat before languidly rising to his feet.

When you look at him, his lips are swollen and painted in your clear arousal, your squirt coating down the cleft of his chin, streaming his neck and sprinkled across his chest. It matches his damp hair, uniform with the wetness of his previous shower.

“You...just...squirted. All over me.” You can’t quite tell if this statement holds aversion at first. Truth be told, you’ve never squirted from a man’s tongue against you.

Jungkook steps closer. “Do you know how fucking hot that was?” You don’t know, but Jungkook is taking your hand into his and placing it over it his very hard bulge. You gasp at the feel underneath your palms, unyielding to your touch. It’s far greater of a bulge than you’ve ever felt before.

You smell yourself on him, a faint fragrance that you taste when Jungkook leans forward to kiss you with greed. His mouth his sticky, kisses lingering against your lips. When he pulls away, his fingers glide over the knot that holds his towel up. You watch him, eagerly as he pulls at the twist, letting the towel to fall to the floor with a soft thud.

Fuck.

Holy fuck.

“Oh my god,” you catch yourself saying out loud.

Jungkook is big. Larger, thicker than you could have ever imagined. An erect serpentine that lays firmly in his hand as he takes the base of his cock in his palm, you can’t look away. You gulp, eyes flickering between his daunting length and his growing smirk. Your mouth suddenly feels parched, a tentative tongue poking through the seams of your lips to swipe over your lips. Something about him not using the towel to directly wipe off your squirt makes your stomach flip with somersaults, so aroused by the idea of him wearing your ograsm on him with pride.

Jungkook twirls his forefinger in the air. “Turn around,” he commands and you oblige, twisting your body as you lay the flat of your palms against the cool wall. Jungkook pulls at your hips, mumbling words of profanities as your ass grinds against his thick erection. He already feels so full against your heat.

Kicking your legs open and apart, his feet stand in between yours, making it impossible for you to close them. He places a kiss against your shoulder, your forehead rested flush to the wall as a tender hand kneads at the cheek of your ass. He spanks it once, the echo of both the slap and your yelp of surprise travelling down the hall.

Hot and heavy against the shell of your ear, his damp hair tickles your neck as he whispers. “Think you can take it, baby?”

“Y-yes.” Your answer is short and breathless, hips instinctively grinding against him for further proof of your want. This earns you another spank and Jungkook is taking the base of his cock in one hand, spreading your cheeks with his free hand as he lines up to your cunt.

He nudges past your folds with his head, speaking in a low growl. “Good girl. Now let’s hear you scream.” He pushes in.

The stretch of his tip pressing into you tingles with a sizzling burn, the pressure that follows has your fingers curling against the wall and an arm reaching back to grasp onto Jungkook’s hip.

He takes your offering hand, interlocking your fingers together as he pushes another inch into you before pulling back out. He lets you adjust, your mixed moans echoing throughout the hallway as he juts his head forward to fill you once again.

His girth pinches against your walls, deliciously so and Jungkook pauses every couple of moments to let you feel every inch fill you until he’s reached the hilt.

He lets your hand go and you bring it back to press against the wall in aid of holding you up. “That’s it, baby...take every inch of it.” His voice is low, husky, something so carnally divine in the clip of his syllables that it has you rolling your head back. “You’re doing so fucking good. Does it feel good?”

“Y-yes,” you say as you exhale shakily.

He rolls out of you, his name just on the edge of your tongue before he’s thrusting forward to have it spill out of your mouth. The velvet smooth feel of Jungkook’s cock mixing with your slick arousal makes the pinching sensation come to an ease. He’s swearing behind you, alternating between muttered profanities and guttural moans.

“So. Fucking. Tight. You feel so good, baby, taking me so well.” His fingers are firmly grasping onto your hips, his thrusts now beginning a steady rhythm as he steadily fucks you against the wall. Jungkook’s girth knocks the breath out of you, a full pressure that fills your tight cunt so satisfyingly, you almost lose yourself a second time within minutes from your first orgasm.

Jungkook is panting behind you, fingers surely leaving bruises against your skin as he speeds his hips to pound into you. He loosens his grip, three of his digits tracing a line down your spine before cutting around your waist and hovering above your clit. “Come again for me, baby. One more time, squirt for me.” It’s with these words that you decide, you don’t want to squirt on the floor once more, you want to squirt on him, on top of him.

“W-wait.” You reach your arm back, pressing the flat of your hand to his hip in a gesture to stop. He stills immediately.

“Did I hurt you?” The worry in his voice only causes you to release a breathless laugh, shaking your head no in reassurance.

“I want to ride you.” How could Jungkook ever say no to that? Without a beat of hesitance, he slides out of you, taking his cock in his hand before lightly tapping the head against each of your cheeks. Gripping your waist, he spins you to face him, a dimpled smile greeting you as you reach his gaze.

“Mm, is that so?” He asks and you nod, returning his smile. The dim glow of sunlight pouring into the hallway allows you to see the glowy sheen of his sweat and your arousal glimmer against his face and chest, enhancing his tattoos. The dampness of his curls have dried but a new layer of perspiration forms a film over his forehead.

You take Jungkook’s hand in yours, leaning forward to place a chase kiss on his lips before you’re leading him into your bedroom. You walk him backwards, your hands on his shoulders and his eyes focused nowhere but on yours. It’s when the back of his knees knock against the edge of your bed that he’s forced to have a seat.

He expects you to straddle him, you see it in the glimmer of his doe eyes but instead, you drop to your knees in front of him, arms separating his inked thighs apart. This takes Jungkook by surprise, he cocks his head to the side, an eyebrow raising in question.

You hands glide up and down his legs, a grin stretching across your face as you lean forward and place a gentle peck to the base of his thick cock. Jungkook hums in satisfaction, eyes holding a challenge as he watches you with great concentration.

The pink of his head looks all too inviting as you take his cock in your hands. As you do so, Jungkook’s hands roam up your arms before they’re resting on each of your shoulders. He benignly grips at the tense muscles of your shoulders, thumbs moving in circles over your skin. “You’re tense.” He vocalizes.

“You’re fucking huge.” You hit back, eyes wide and mouth salivating at the heaviness in your grasp. It’s tacky, coated in you as you swipe a thumb over the head and Jungkook hisses above you. When you look up at him, his dark eyes are speared to your movements, teeth gritted. You begin moving your hands up and down his length.

“You can take it in your mouth, can’t you?” The tone in his voice depicts a challenge and your ears nearly perk in interest. Of course you can take him in your mouth. You lean forward, Jungkook’s broad hands leaving the expanse of your shoulders to slide up the sides of your head. His fingers comb your hair back, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail. The movement flexes the muscles on his inked biceps and you have to admit to yourself that he looks so fucking good.

Jungkook is all too eager as he watches you, the flat of your tongue sticking out to lick around the rim of his head. He chokes back a groan, grip on your hair tightening. You stretch your mouth as wide as you can, a discomfort to your movement as you engulf the whole of his head with your tongue. Jungkook inhales a sharp breath, fingers threaded into your hair as he eases you down to take more of him.

You wrap your lips around the velvet tip, beginning a slow suction. “Fuck,” Jungkook mumbles from above you, shifting on the mattress, watching you. “Open wider, baby.” You do as asked, jaw already sore from the girth of his head alone. He pushes his hips off the mattress in the slightest, grip on your hair firm as he thrusts more of himself into your mouth.

You’re careful not to let your teeth graze over the skin of his cock, your fingers tightening around his length before you start to twist your wrists and continue sucking. Jungkook is careful to be gentle with you, very tenderly urging his cock to fill more of your mouth. It shocks you when you feel the blunt of his head hit the cap of your airway, eliciting a gag.

Jungkook pulls out a millimeter before he’s pushing back in, teeth gritted and eyes focused. Your mouth looks so pretty stuffed with his cock; it’s almost as pretty as your cunt taking him to the hilt.

Another gag rumbles out of you and vibrates against his member, this time, Jungkook being the one to moan. His hips stutter in shallow thrusts into your mouth and you feel the sting of tears threatening to blur your vision.

The sounds of your gagging bounces off the walls of your bedroom, followed by the guttural moans of Jungkook as he fucks your mouth. Each thrust of his hips causes the head of his cock to push past your airway.

You release your hold around his length, fingers thickly coated in your own saliva as you find purchase of the flesh of his thighs. You let him have his way with you, your mouth stretched as wide as you can physically make it and a single thread of a tear rolling down your cheek. You look up through the flutters of your eyelashes, pleased to see the Adam’s apple in Jungkook’s throat bob up and down while his head is thrown back in pleasure.

The sudden pull of his cock from your mouth comes with a light ‘pop’ followed by you gasping for air. Using his hold on your hair, he jerks your hair back so you’re forced to look up at him. He hungrily latches his lips onto yours, sloppy and wet with a relentless tongue that intrudes your mouth.

You slide your hands over his thighs, towards the ridges of muscles on his abdomen as he helps you rise to your feet. Your right palm travels up his chest, your other arm circling around Jungkook’s neck as you let him grab a handful of your ass. With a persuasive lift, he places you on his lap, your legs wrapping around his torso as his mouth remains on yours.

“M’let me ride m’you,” you gasp in between kisses, Jungkook’s toned arms looping around your waist as he shuffles closer to the edge of the mattress.

“Yeah?” He moves from your mouth to the edge of your jaw.

“Please.” Jungkook loosens his grip around your waist, letting you rest the front of your calves on either side of him. You situate yourself, raising your hips as your hand finds his still, very erect length to line against your core.

“Look at you so needy for my cock, don’t hate me so much anymore?” The smugness in his tone only grants him a glare from you, a chuckle following his tease. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m in need of you too.” You have noticed, his massive cock hasn’t wavered in want in the slightest since he first kissed you.

You huff a breath. “I never hated you.” Rubbing his head a few times over your sex, you finally sink down onto it, your cunt eagerly taking in his head. You gasp at the feel of this new position, his length gliding in much smoother with your previous practice. “You just need to start washing your fucking dish- ah!” You cry out, hands fumbling to grasp at his shoulders as Jungkook juts his hips up, slamming into you. His girth stretches your walls once again and he feels so fucking delicious in you like this. Quite frankly, you’re unsure if you’ll be able to go back to an average sized penis ever again.

“Mm, I should keep pissing you off if it means I get to shut you up like this.” His voice hitches at the last word as you pick your hips up and ram yourself back down onto his cock. You both moan at this, your arms once again looping around Jungkook’s neck as his hands firmly grip your hips in guidance.

Your teeth clash as you kiss him with each bounce of your hips, the position more so letting you gently rock over his cock. Your clit rubs against his skin with each roll of your hips, making sure you alternate between circling your hips and bouncing on his cock. Jungkook is losing himself, you know this because he holds you tightly, firmly as he lets you take control. You ride him hard and slow, the pre crescendo to his coming end.

“Come for me, Jungkook,” You moan against the shell of his ear, legs losing stamina as you try to keep a rhythmic pace. But Jungkook doesn’t want to finish just yet, he wants you to come again too.

You yelp as he slides his hands under your ass, lifting you off him before he’s throwing you onto the mattress so you’re on your back. He stands up, above you at the edge of your bed, taking your knees in the crevice of his elbows before yanking you towards him.

“Where is it?” He gruffs, fingers gripping your waist.

“What?”

“Your vibrator, where is it?” If you weren’t flushed already from Jungkook’s cock, you’d be blushing at his knowledge that you even had one. You stretch your arm above you, fingers reaching underneath a pillow where you usually keep it hidden. Grasping the device in hand, you bring it out, idly waving it in front of the ink-skinned boy. He grins, the youthful boy-like glint returning in the doe of his eyes as he releases your leg from the arm that extends to retrieve it from you.

Inspecting the controls, he finds the power button, clicking it on. A low buzz fills the room. the words that follow leaving you breathless again.

“Ah...now there’s the noise I like to hear every night.” Clicking it back off, Jungkook places it carefully next you before hooking your leg back around his elbow, hoisting your hips up. You watch with eager eyes as he pokes his tongue past his lips, letting a string of saliva drizzle carefully over his cock. He smooths the slick over his cock, letting it coat the entirety of his length before he’s guiding his head against your opening.

He gently slaps his head against your clit before rubbing against it, letting your arousal build once more. You shift your hips in impatience, fingers gripping tightly against your sheets. Jungkook leans down towards your mouth, claiming your lips once more, hard and deep. He tastes of sweat and your arousal, a tinge of salt that you lick away. When he pulls away, he’s pushing his cock into you again.

The curve of his dick hits differently with this position, now he has more control with hitting just the right spots. He’s slow at first, frustrating slow as if he’s testing each stroke of his hips to see how you react. When he’s surging forward until he’s got an inch remaining, you’re crying out loud.

“Here?” He asks and you nod profusely, words unable to form on your tongue. Jungkook pushes even deeper, another cry escaping your lungs at the new fullness. Your grip around your sheets grow tighter, teeth harshly biting down on your lip as he begins steady rock in and out of you.

You’ve never been filled so well like this, his cock hitting every surface area of your inner walls as he stretches you delectably with each roll of his hips. He fucks into you, hard and deep, changing from circling his hips to pistoning into you with no mercy. He talks filth into the air, profanities and moans chased by the sounds of skin slapping as he relentlessly plummets into you.

He can feel you about to come, the pressure of your clenched walls tightening around him to un unprecedented degree. With each thrust, your cunt only eagerly invites him back in, needy for his spurts of cum. This is when Jungkook grabs the vibrator he placed beside you, thumb quick to power the device on. You yelp and mewl as he places the silicone tip against your clit, the vibration ringing through both of you. The sensation is overwhelming, the girth of his cock mixed with the jolts of your stimulated clit leave you near screaming his name. You shake underneath him, legs quivering as you feel the rise of your orgasm build through your entire body.

“You can squirt again, baby. I know you can. I know you want to.” Your body jerks and still as the combination of one more thrust and the vibe hit you exactly where you need it to, to come undone. Jungkook doesn’t fight it, the pressure of your squirt pushing his cock out of your tightness. “That’s it, darling, so fucking hot.” He keeps the vibrator on you and you whimper, releasing the clutch of the sheets as you flail your arms towards the vibrator in an attempt to push it away from you. Jungkook does not budge.

“P-please, fuck, Jungkook...it’s too much, please.” He does not stop, watching you with intent as your body shakes underneath his control of the vibrator. He knows you can come again.

“One more time.” Your legs are desperately trying to clamp shut but Jungkook expertly holds your legs apart with his torso as he continues assaulting your clit with the silicone. It buzzes against you, rings through your entire body and within minutes you’re coming all over again. It’s so intense, you nearly black out, your voice clamouring to a scream of Jungkook’s name.

He turns it off and throws it somewhere on the mattress before he’s sliding into you with ease. He fucks your squirt back into you with a push of his cock.

This time, Jungkook wastes no time. This time, he drills into you, clamping your legs together as he pushes them forward until your knees hit your chest. This position allows him to go deeper, watching your cunt swallow every inch of his cock with greed along with every thrust of his hips. He feels his orgasm rapidly approaching.

Each snap of his hips become sloppier, his laboured breathing sporadic as his fingers dig harshly into your calves.

“Where do you want me to come?” He rasps, pulling your legs apart once more.

“I-inside me, please.” Your words elicit a mumbled fuck from him followed by a groan. You watch him through lidded eyes, your head thick and heavy from your plentiful of orgasms. Jungkook looks like the God of sex himself above you, sweat dribbling down his forehead, his dark long waves spilling over his eyes, his inked chest glistening and his muscles flexing with every grind of his hips into you. He is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. “Come, Jungkook,” you coo, egging him to come undone. “Come inside me.”

With the last phrase, his hips stutter and still before he’s gasping for a breath as he spills himself into you. He shouts your name, voice getting caught in his throat. He steadily moves again, milking every last drop of himself inside of you as your walls achingly aid him.

As he comes to a stop, the room is filled with nothing but the sounds of your mixed heavy panting. Jungkook leans forward, pressing a heavy kiss against your lips before he’s pulling away from your mouth and away from your cunt. He watches, mesmerized as his cum dribbles out of you. It’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen, your tight cunt filled to the brim with his seed.

“Fuck,” he pants, reaching his arm out to help you sit up. You roll your head forward into your palms, the rush of dopamine pounding into your skull with a massive headache. “You okay?” He asks and you nod your head, face still encompassed by your hands.

“You...should piss me off more often.” Jungkook chuckles at this. When you look up from your hands, his wavy locks have a newfound dampness, beads of sweat encompassing his tattooed chest. He’s grinning, a lopsided grin that leaves you with a warm feeling pounding in your chest. 

Jungkook offers you a hand, guiding you off the bed. You take it, letting him pick you up to your feet with the strength of his biceps. 

“Yeah, yeah I should.” You’re both walking out your bedroom and towards the shower.

Seokjin wears nothing but a grimace at the kitchen island as he watches you and Jungkook coo at each other. He’s just returned from his trip abroad, hands crossed over his chest as he observes the blasphemy before his eyes. Jungkook is by the stove, flipping the last of Seokjin’s steak and you’re beside him preparing a salad on the counter.

“Disgusting.” Seokjin scowls. “I leave for three months and this happens?” He scoffs at the thought of the two of you cooking him steak for dinner, as if it would break the bearer of this terrible, awful news. You two are now dating. His best friend and his roommate- to Seokjin, it’s an ultimate betrayal.

You sigh and roll your eyes, setting your freshly made salad in front of him as Jungkook brings over a sizzling pan of steak. He wears a grin on his face, a grin that matches yours before you’re leaning on your tiptoes to kiss against the indented dimple against his lower cheek. Seokjin nearly gags at this.

He truly thought he’d be rid of you as soon as this lease had ended but here you were, snogging who he thought to be his best friend. He thinks he’ll have to burn his mattress too.

“Great,” he says, deadpan, picking up his knife and fork. “I’m stuck with you forever now.” With the greatest of fake enthusiasm, he musters a disingenuous smile and angrily digs into his steak.

He hates that it’s delicious. 

all rights reserved © jeongi

a/n: HEWWOOOO. how u feeling!? 🥴i REALLY!!! did not expect this fic to be so long holy shit im so sorry, i went out of control!!!! this was very loosely based off real-life events that were then fuelled by jungkook’s lotte concert look. and badda bing, badda boom, a 13k fic of pure smut is born and i am wholly unashamed of myself. i really hope you enjoyed reading this filth, it was very fun for me to write!!! please let me know what you think and as always, thank you for reading and i love youuuu 💞

[hisfavoritecherry]

right place, right time

summary: harry decides to take a trip to japan in an attempt to take his mind off of some things; that is, until one of the things finds its way back to him. 

warning: sadness, degredation, smut, all that good stuff

word count: 3.2k+

January 6, 2019; Tokyo, Japan. 

Harry would have never expected to find himself here. Well, he did at some points, but the ideas were never conclusive and he had never actually envisioned himself booking a flight, taking the plane, and arriving in the city that one of his most treasured books was based off of. The trip was obviously an irrational decision and after tour, there was no place he would’ve rather been (other than home, but even that didn’t feel like the right choice at the moment). He needed a new area, a new location, a new setting; to put it simply, a new place to miss you. 

You and Harry had broken things off just shortly before he went away for work, explaining that you just couldn’t handle him being away for that long and that maybe, just maybe, it was for the best. You were starting your new job as a journalist for the New York Times and it was a big step in your career for you, and you knew that there should be absolutely nothing that would prevent you from achieving it. Even him. 

He agreed, obviously, as he’s always respected you and your aspirations and he knew that he didn’t want to be the one thing that was holding you back. He’s encouraged you to do everything you can to do what you want to do as you’ve encouraged him to do the same, and even if it broke his heart, you deserved it more than anyone he’s ever known in his twenty-four years of life. You stayed friends and would call every now and then, updating him on gossip in the office or just things happening in your everyday life. You’d ask him about events happening around him as well and he would say the same thing every time. That it’s the same-old, that he’s okay, that he misses you. A smile would creep upon your lips as you knew you felt the same way, but nothing would change, no matter how much you both wanted it to. 

The only remaining problem was that you stayed on his mind the whole time after you had split, and regardless of how many times he tried to stray away from you, the thought of you always spilled back into his mind like ink on paper; you were his familiarity and he was yours.

He would see someone in the crowd who looked like you; there you were. He went on runs when he managed to get days away from the stage and put his playlist on shuffle, hearing the song you both claimed and danced together to in his kitchen that one time; there you were. He visited a random corner cafe and got your order just to see what all the fuss was about but ended up frowning and hating it deeply because it was too sweet; there you were. Every goddamn chance he got, there you were. 

Harry had expected things to change as he disembarked the outing, suggesting that perhaps if he had different people surrounding him, his conceptions would change as well. 

They didn’t. It worsened, in fact, and he ended up seeing you more wherever he went. Every face, every place, every name, it brought him back to you and he eventually accepted that you would never go away, or at least would go away in slivers at a time. So to take his mind off of the idea of you for the meanwhile, he used most of his days and nights to go out with friends and find new individuals to satisfy his cravings for the ghost of you. Not sex, or anything else, he simply just found new things to fill the void and help him ignore the pain he was so evidently feeling.

It’s currently February 1. The day he was dreading, his now second birthday without you next to him. Harry decided to spend today at Sarutahiko Coffee, a cozy cafe just a few blocks down from where he was staying. Partying and going out to karaoke with his friends was fun, hell, sometimes he thought about dropping everything and moving here just to be able to live this lifestyle, but it did get tiring at some points, and there is nothing else he’d rather be doing than perching up against a corner in the shop and reading his book right now.

The work of choice held tightly in his grip is The People Look Like Flowers at Last by Charles Bukowski, reading the poems flowing from the creme-colored pages and writing thoughts in a journal kept close to him about things that stood out the most. 

 “A love like that was a serious illness, an illness from which you never entirely recover.”

What a load of donkey shit, Harry thought to himself. Love was nothing but heavy unfair baggage to him now, and he no longer believed in it. Not if he didn’t get to have you.

He chuckles to himself softly at the notion, jotting it down onto the paper and crossing it out immediately after.

It’s pathetic to Harry. How he was acting this way towards your relationship with him, how looked at the situation so negatively and sourly. He loved you so much that everytime he saw you, his breath hitched and he felt as if his heart would pump out of his chest. That every step you took closer to him, it would land him closer to a casket or his deathbed.

The bell tolls and he doesn’t bother tilting his head to see if it’s a customer coming in or leaving, as it’s been occurring all day and he just doesn’t pay mind to the action anymore. He continues to let his eyes touch every word on the page but abruptly stops when he recognizes a tone of voice. 

“Hi, how are you?”

It’s not her. Can’t be. Wouldn’t be. She’s not even in Tokyo.

Nonetheless, he looks up in the most subtle form of curiosity beaming from his aura. 

There you were. Your head cocking to the side, smiling at the cashier taking your order as you speak broken Japanese in an hasty endeavor to communicate with them. You’re dressed in a flowy white dress covered in tiny pink flowers attached to green leaves, hugging your waist in all the right places and a nude bag clutched around your shoulder. Around your back and arms is the baby pink cardigan Harry gave to you for your twenty-first birthday, the one he was so strangely excited to give to you because secretly, he knew he would be able to take the material off of you once the party was over and everyone had gone home.

He’s stunned and stopped in place now, his eyes wide open as he had no clue what to do at this point.

As if the stars had aligned in place at the perfect time, you’re standing in front of him and it feels like he can’t move.

He had only ever spoken to you through calls, not getting the chance to Facetime because he never had the time to while he was away, and you look different. A good different. Your hair is a little longer than he last saw you and tinted lighter, and it’s apparent that your skin is glowing now. Not a pregnancy glow, he hopes.

He snaps out of his trance as you grab your latte off of the counter, turning to find a seat around the cafe and freezing as you both make eye contact. Your heart stops at the sight of him. Him. The person you missed so goddamn dearly and the person you’ve been yearning for since the day you broke up. The person who’s kissed you when you were nervous, who held you when you were scared. The person you’re still in love with to this day, no matter the lengthy amount of time you’ve spent apart. 

A few seconds pass and you start to make your way to the area he’s sitting alone at. You’re praying in this time that he isn’t here with someone else, but in return, he smiles at you. The kind of smile you love, when his dimple pops out and his pearly brights show through. He’s the sun.

“Harry,” you breathe softly, lips curling into a grin. The sound of his name erupting from your mouth makes your lungs skip a beat as you haven’t said it at all in what? A year now?

“Y/N,” he says in return.

“Mind if I sit?” 

He purses his lips and hastily moves all of his belongings over, making space for your arrival. 

“Be my guest.” 

Your perfume dials into his brain as you sit and he smiles at the easily recognized scent. The silence between the two of you now is deafening and to be frank, annoying. You wish you could hold him in your arms again and tell him you missed him and you love him and that this whole time, all you’ve ever wanted to do was call him and find your way back to him, but you don’t. You can’t. Not here, at least. 

“So-”

“You-” You both start speaking at once.

“Whoops, my bad. You go first,” you say softly, pressing your lips into a line which makes him laugh gently.

“I was going to say, y’ look good, Y/N.” 

Your heart stops once more and everything comes rushing back to you.

The first time he kissed you, the first time he held your hand, the first time you made love, the first time you fucked, the last time you kissed, the last time he held your hand, the last time you made love, the last time you fucked.

“Thank you,” you look down out of pure nervousness as you don’t want to mess it up. “You do too, I’ve missed you.”

A moment of stillness is shared between you two and you instantly regret saying it, God knows if he feels the same way and if he could be missing someone else who isn’t you.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, forget I said that, please.”

“No, s’ all good, was just registering into my brain that you actually said that,” he pauses, running his hands through the chestnut locks held atop his head. You never noticed but his hair has grown a large amount, almost touching his neck now. He’s wearing a light brown cardigan around a white tee shirt, sunglasses hanging off of the edge of the material. His eyes are duller and he looks more tired, worrying you, but you don’t want to fuss just yet about why that is.

“I missed you too.”

You both smile and nod together, almost as if in sync and you observe that although it’s awkward now, it’s a comforting kind of awkward and you know that he’s finally here in front of you, with a blatantly inviting heart and the softest smile to grant you access to it. 

“So what are you doing in Tokyo?” he asks, taking a sip from the mug filling to the brim with black coffee that seems like he didn’t bother touching since the moment he arrived. 

“I could ask you the same thing. But I’m here just to visit, work’s been on my ass and I just needed a way to escape. I worked my ass off everyday since my first day on the job and I never slacked. Not once. But it gets tiring, y’ know, so I was like, Japan seems like a cool option. So I used up my savings and booked a flight. Been here for a few days. Weird that we ended up at the same time, though, I guess,” you giggle delicately and it sounds like music to Harry’s ears, a melody he hasn’t heard in what feels like forever. He stays silent in response as he puzzles together in his mind how this could have happened. How you managed to come to the same cafe as him, at the same time, in the same city. Right place, right time, he suggests to himself.

“And you?”

You like that about Harry. You like that you’re able to spill your heart out to him and he would accept all of it with open arms, listening as closely as he possibly can and registering every spoken word into his brain. 

“After tour ended, I was weighing all the possible options on where I could spend the time writing the next record and getting my mind off of some other shit, an’ I guess we had the same idea of randomly choosing Japan.”

“Yeah? Where are you staying?” you ask quietly, tiny hands curling around the cup of your liquid of choice. You realize that maybe it was a bit of a reach to ask, but you’re curious and you’re almost positive he’s the same. 

“I can show you if y’ want,” Harry taps his fingers against the wooden table dividing the two of you and you nod in response, and him mentally breathing out in relief that it didn’t backfire onto him. You had no plans for the rest of today, anyways, other than exploring the city a bit more, and it wouldn’t hurt to check the place out for a few minutes or so. You both grab your belongings, heading towards the exit and smiling at the workers who do the same in return. 

You walk a mere five minutes in silence before arriving at a tall brick-built building. You assume it’s an apartment complex and he unlocks the main entrance, heading towards a set of doors that end up being an elevator. You both pile into the lifting device and he clicks the number 10.

“S’ nice,” you say softly, tugging at the hem of your dress-skirt. He nods in response and folds his arms together. 

Harry’s heart is racing faster than he can think and it feels like time is going slower than usual. It’s never normal for him to be anxious or nervous like this around you, you’re his sense of calmness and the only person he feels like he can totally know himself with.

But he can’t wait any longer. He doesn’t want to lose you again, not like this. 

Harry steps in front of you, eyes peering down and his hands tuck around the back of your neck. Your hands absentmindedly wrap around his waist, and you know what’s going to happen next but honestly, you’re so grateful for it.

“If you kiss me, will it be just like I dreamed it?”

He smiles at you once more before cocking his head to the side and stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“You’ll have to see for yourself.” You don’t let another moment pass before eagerly smashing your lips against his, him pressing you up against the elevator wall and wrapping your leg around his middle. He tastes like mint and forgotten love, the sweet tang of the person you’ve missed so fucking much. You can feel him hardening against your center as your lips move together in sync, releasing from each other’s embrace as Harry moves down to your neck and leaves soft pecks around the area. He moves up to the spot right behind your ear that he knows makes you go crazy, which makes your cunt ache for him and only him.

The elevator dings above your frames and he pulls off of you immediately, the both of you moving to the side of one another as an elderly lady enters. You look up to see Harry smirking to himself with his lips pressed into a line and you nudge his side while rolling your eyes, him chuckling in return.

It doesn’t take long before you arrive at his floor, his fingers intertwining with yours as he leads you to the exit and towards his door. He fumbles with his keys for a moment as you lean up to suck the nape of his neck fervidly, leaving marks as you go and him groaning tacitly.

“And don’t think I forgot that it’s your birthday,” you whisper against his ear, giggling and kissing against it as he’s finally able to get it unlocked. He pushes the door open to reveal a large penthouse that you don’t get a second to look around before you’ve dropped down to your knees, trembling as you unbuckle the belt around his waist. You don’t want to admit it but this is the first time you’ve both ever gotten laid since you ended things and you never would have guessed that this would’ve been with each other. Harry throws the stack of books previously held in his clutch onto the couch nearby and helps you tug down his jeans, his black briefs now in vision and erection planted directly in front of you. You stroke him through the material and leave kisses across it, making your way to the tip of it and pulling the briefs down with your teeth. He hisses at the teasing action with glistening eyes and you can’t help but smirk to yourself at the sight of it, grabbing him between your fingers and using them to move down his shaft. You’re looking up at him now and his head is thrown back, moaning at the feeling of pent-up deprivation finally being taken care of. 

You use your tongue to swirl around the tip, catching any of the precum dribbling from his cock in the swells of your mouth and he grabs a handful of your hair to guide you through it.

“Fuck, jus’ like that,” he pauses, using his strength to bob your head up and down but making sure it’s only the amount of him you’re able to take. “I’ve missed you, baby,”

Tears begin to gather at the crease of your eyelids before he releases his grip each time, and it doesn’t take long before he’s picking you up and carrying you to his bedroom. You whine in irritation and make rebuttals for him to put you down and he pats your ass, placing you down softly onto the mattress and continuing to work his way around your heart-shaped lips. He pulls up the material around your body and throws it to the other side of the room to reveal that surprisingly, you aren’t wearing any bra or panties, and his breath hitches before taking a moment to himself and placing his hands onto you once more. It’s obvious that he’s trying to be as delicate as he possibly can with you but to be honest, that is the last thing you want right now.  

“Harry,” you breathe out, cursing to yourself as he kisses tenderly down your torso. He tilts his head in reaction; you’ve always been very vocal with each other about affection and sex and how you wanna go about it so it wouldn’t hurt to be that way now too.

“Please,” you breathe out. “Be rough with me, I need you so much,” you beg, him humming as a silent notion of ‘are you sure?’ and you nod in return. Harry’s finger dips through your soaked folds, digit swirling over your sensitive nub and using his other hand to hold your hips down as they buck up against him. Propping yourself up onto your elbows to watch him work, you whine his name over and over as his mouth is now attached to your heat, him moaning from enjoyment in response as well. He pulls away and you can’t help but want to scream at him for it, eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. As much as he wants you, he wants to know that you’re just as needy and eager for his entrance. 

“What do y’ want, princess? Hm?” He taunts, pushing his thumb against your clit harder. 

“I want-” He presses harder, which makes you cry out louder.

“I want you to fuck me, Harry,” you mumble quietly and he halts his movements completely, making you squirm and wrap your fingers around his arm in a poor attempt to reattach his touch back to you. 

“What was that?” You know he heard you the first time but needs to hear you beg for him once more.

“I want you to fuck me Harry, make me c-cum, please,” you tremble and it doesn’t take another second for him to pull his weight up before wrapping his hand around his cock firmly and hooking his other onto your thigh. He doesn’t give you time to re-adjust before sinking himself into you and letting out a groan, the moan coming from your lips sounding like a symphony to his perception.

“Shit, you’re so wet, all f’ me,” he wants to let you adapt to his length again but instead, decides to start moving himself in and out of you hastily, head dropping to your neck and you use his nape to leave your traces up against. He never expected to end up here, fucking you like this in his bedroom, but that was the last thing on his mind, the first being to make you cum. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Harry,” you plea. “You feel so fucking good,” you cry out for him, sobs being jagged and covered with lust as you move your fingers into his sweat-immersed hair. His face is tinted a bright shade of pink and moisture is leaking down the sides of his face.

“Harder, please, daddy,” the accentuating whines coming from your lips almost mask the nickname you’ve bestowed upon him for the first time since you last made love, but it makes his stomach riddle with butterflies and he follows your request. Harry pushes himself into you harder each time, his fingers trailing down to your center and pinching the skin surrounding your nub. The only noises throughout his whole apartment now is a combination of your moans and the bed softly creaking against the hardwood floor. He knows that you’re close and he is as well, but he wants to make it last longer for your first time together again.

“Y/N,” he groans out, brown curls falling in front of his face. “‘m not going to last long, baby, gonna cum for me? Gonna let me fill you up like the dirty slut you are? Is that what you want?” 

You can only nod in response due to the dryness in your throat from crying out seemingly louder than you ever have and you feel yourself release and clench onto his dick, pinching your eyes shut and seeing fireworks glow against them. A moment passes and Harry loosens the grip from your thigh, stuttering and becoming more sloppy with his thrusts, but soon emptying himself into you and pounding into you one last time, sending chills throughout both of your bodies.

He waits for a while in order to recollect himself and give you a chance to as well, collapsing at your side as you feel his contents spill out of you. You know he’s about to grab something to clean you up with when he begins to move to the edge of the bed but you tug him back, nodding and pouting.

“Don’t leave, not yet,” you say, still out of breath and Harry chuckles quietly before pulling himself back and wrapping his arms around your waist, pecking up against the sweet spot near your neck once more and letting out a sigh. 

“I’m not leaving you ever again, not after what just happened.” You lean over and swat his arm, giggling and pressing your lips against his again. You’re both finally in the place that you’ve been dying to be in for the past year and you realize that maybe the time you spent apart was all worth it if it meant you got to be back here with him, in his arms, in his presence, in his bedroom, in Japan.  

[unsteadyimagines]

Curiosity Killed the Cat (Spencer Reid x Reader)

SUMMARY: After a very intense and stressful case, Y/N and Spencer are to share a hotel room for the night. Y/N decides to unwind and make herself at home with a hot bath – accompanied by a special helping hand. Much to Spencer’s surprise, he finds himself in a sticky situation as to whether or not act on his desires. Because after all, curiosity killed the cat.

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

WARNINGS: Smut (masturbation)

NOTE:

***Feedback is always welcome for future improvement!

----------

Entering through the automatic hotel reception doors, Y/N can feel her feet ache from her heels with every step she takes, which she hopes will no longer be many. Standing in the elevator with Spencer, all that can be heard is the music playing before they reach the seventh floor.

“Oh my god, I don’t think my feet have ever ached so badly from heels before,” Y/N laughs, stumbling aimlessly down the hall clutching onto Spencer’s arm for support. Not that he was much help, he was stumbling just as much as Y/N. They first pass David’s room, then Tara’s, then Luke and Matt’s, and finally, Emily and JJ’s room, which happened to be right next to Y/N and Spencer’s.

“Could you two keep it down! It’s already 2am and we’ve had a long day.” Luke and Matt lean against their hotel room door, lightly yelling across the hall, laughing at the state Spencer and Y/N were in. It’s not that they were drunk, they were just tipsy but the lack of sleep they’ve had in the last 48 hours was definitely a strong contribution to their intoxicated state.

This was probably one of the hardest cases Y/N and the rest of the team had experienced, it was so physically exhausting there was not one part of their body that didn’t ache. When Y/N and Spencer made it to their room, Y/N struggles to successfully swipe the key card through the slot, taking a few attempts before the door was able to open. As soon as Y/N stepped onto the carpet, she rid herself of her heels, feeling the soft carpet under her aching feet while Spencer takes off his jacket, chucking it onto his bed. Both of them sobering up slightly, they start getting ready for some much needed sleep.

“Do you want to use the bathroom first? I was going to run myself a bath.” Y/N asks, opening her suitcase and grabbing out her pyjamas, underwear, toiletries and a small satin pouch.

“No that’s okay, you can go first. I’m going to stay up for a while and read anyway,” Spencer smiles, grabbing his book and making his way to the couch.

Y/N walks into the luxuriously big bathroom, locking the door and turning the faucet on, the sound of the running water echoing in the air. Massaging her own shoulders while waiting for the bath to fill, she knew that her strained muscles would soon be relieved by the hot water. Meanwhile, Spencer was making himself comfortable on the couch, already many pages into his book, deeply engrossed.

As the bath starts filling halfway, Y/N decides to hop in, sighing in content at the water temperature that was helping sooth her entire body, closing her eyes and finally letting herself relax after what could definitely be described as a physically draining and lengthy day. Humming to herself, she lays there completely still, growing tired the more she’s relaxed.

Running her hands through her hair and massaging her scalp, Y/N suddenly begins to miss the touch of another person. She misses how men would would stroke her head and knead her skin, but this only made her frustrated because she was laying in the water alone. This had her yearning…

Being deprived of her own touch or anyone else’s, she slowly slides her hands up over her stomach, lightly brushing her fingertips over her nipples, which are already growing sensitive to her touch. Tugging at each nipple with a gentle force, she squeezes her thighs together, trying to release some of the pressure that’s already forming. Trailing her hands down her stomach, she lays her hand flat against her pussy to the slickness that is already there, curling her toes slightly at the touch.

She then remembers the small satin pouch she brought into the bathroom with her. Her mind wanders, slowly bringing the pouch closer towards her. Debating in her head whether it was a good idea or not, she fears there’s a chance that the bathroom along with the running water won’t be loud enough to muffle the sounds that would soon be coming from inside. Maybe Spencer might be so immersed in his book that the sounds around him will drown out.

“Hey, Spence!” Y/N softly shouts, waiting to see if he will respond. She waits a few seconds and hears nothing, confirming to her that Spencer can’t hear her, or at least hopes he can’t. Making herself comfortable, she leans further back into the bathtub, resting her head and taking a deep breath. Opening the satin pouch, she pulls out the vibrating device she didn’t expect to need while away on the job. In saying that, she couldn’t be more grateful to herself for packing it anyway.

Settling in, she excitedly turns the power of the vibrating wand on, a soft buzz filling the air, the vibrations she feels in her hand get her all the more excited to really relax after a long day. Slowly running the head of the wand down her neck, to her chest, she circles her left nipple and then her right, her breathing getting slightly heavier. The sounds she’s making as well as the wand turning her on even more now. Letting out a deep sigh, she then slowly starts to run it down her stomach, circling her navel before trailing further down to her core – the area she needed it most.

“Mmm yes,” she whispers to herself, the pleasure already making her eager for more. Running the toy up and down her pussy, she can’t keep still, her hips bucking up into the vibrating head, whining in satisfaction. Once she got used to the feeling, she presses a button to increase the speed, the vibrations filling the room even louder this time. She could feel herself getting more wet, moving the toy even harder against her pussy.

“Fuck,” she moans louder, gripping the ledge of the tub tightly with her other hand. Her head falls back in pure bliss, drowning out the outside noise.

Meanwhile, Spencer – who is still oblivious to what was going on in the bathroom, was flipping page after page, finding the quiet and dimly lit room so peaceful among the constant chaos that was his job. He thought he could hear people outside of their hotel room door, but didn’t think too much of it, and instead turned another page, changing his position on the couch.

Y/N, on the other hand, was squirming, trying to muffle her moans at the risk of getting caught. She decided to change her position, standing up and sitting on the ledge of the tub, spreading her legs on either side. Placing the wand against her pussy again, her legs struggle to stay wide open, wanting to relieve some of the aching pressure.

Once again gripping the ledge of the tub making her fingers turn white, her breathing shortens into small pants, her release getting closer. Her pussy throbs, dripping into the water below her, while she struggles to maintain her composure.

“Oh my god, fuck yes,” she gasps softly, her head rolling back.

“Right there,” she moves the toy faster and faster, her pussy pulsating, the pleasure almost becoming too much. At this point, she doesn’t even care about the possibility of Spencer being able to hear her, too wrapped up in the pleasure she’s giving herself.

Bending the head of the toy slightly to add more pressure, she whimpers, her eyes flutter shut, and her mouth opens, but she can’t utter a word - only soft pants being able to escape. The vibrations against her clit have never felt so good, so she uses her other hand to pinch her left nipple, wishing it was someone else’s hand; a hand much thicker, bigger, rougher.

Inhaling sharply, she can’t keep quiet anymore, “Fuck yes, right there, oh my god fuck.” Moaning loudly, this time it captures Spencer’s attention. He thought he heard something as he looked up from his book, placing his bookmark in the page he was currently reading. He waited to see if he could hear it again, and he did. Completely unaware to what it was, he gets up from the couch and walks slowly and quietly towards the bathroom door, wanting to make sure Y/N hadn’t had an accident. It was a farfetched worry, but he remembered they both had been drinking despite the intoxication mostly having worn off by now.

“Y/N? Are you okay in there?” Spencer asks, knocking on the door, hoping to get a response.

“I-I’m fine Spencer, t-thanks” Y/N replies, her voice trembling.

“I thought I heard noises, so I just wanted to check if you were alright. You know, make sure you hadn’t fallen asleep or drowned,” he explains, looking up at the ceiling.

“O-Okay S-Spence… I’ll be d-done soon… oohh,” Y/N replies, which Spencer found a little odd, but decided not to question it. Just as he took one step away from the door, he heard another noise, except this time he obviously assumed it came from Y/N, gasping loudly and the sound of water splashing around. Pressing his ear to the door as subtly as he could, his heart instantly started beating heavier once he realised what she was most likely doing in there.

“Mmm shit, oh- oh fuck yes,” her moans start getting louder, which gives Spencer confirmation of her actions. He gulps, wondering if he should give her privacy, fearing that he’s already crossed a boundary despite Y/N still not aware of Spencer’s ear against the door. But when he hears the toy’s vibration echo in the air, it only turns him on even more, his jeans suddenly getting that little bit tighter.

He feels incredibly guilty and creepy listening to his co-worker partake in such an intimate act, but he can’t help himself, listening further. The thought of Y/N naked and wet, pleasuring herself is what encouraged him to quietly unbuckle his belt, unzip his pants and push his hand down until he was gripping himself teasingly, biting his lip to stay quiet.

He could hear the water splashing quicker and Y/N’s breath become more ragged, which only made him move his hand up and down his hardening cock faster, quickening his pace, resulting in his breathing becoming shallower.

“Fuck,” he groans in a whisper. Biting his lip isn’t keeping him quiet enough, so instead he bites into his fisted hand, while touching himself with the other. Rubbing his thumb over his tip that’s now leaking pre-cum, he shudders at his own touch, sinister thoughts running through his mind.

While Spencer continuously palms himself, running his hands up and down his shaft, Y/N is so close to her climax, her soaking wet clit throbbing against the silicone head of the toy and her legs trying to shake themselves shut. “Oh g-god, f-fuck, fuck y-yes mmm.”

She’s so close she can feel her need for release building; she doesn’t have long till she comes completely undone. Y/N increases the speed of the vibrator one more time, a jolted spark running through her entire body and a deep heat forming in the pit of her stomach signalling to her that she’s about to orgasm. Tugging at her nipple with her other hand, bucking her hips up into the air with ragged moans, she finally releases all her stress and anxiety from the past week.

“Ooohhh shit, fuck, holy – fuck,” She exclaims loudly, squeezing both her eyes and legs shut, shivering from her orgasm – waves of pleasure cursing through the entirety of her body. Absolutely exhausted, she regains some strength, sitting herself back in the tub, soaking in what was left of the lukewarm water, and trying to even out her breaths.

While Y/N recovers post-orgasm, Spencer is just reaching his. Rubbing his cock harder and faster than before, his breath comes out deep and in pants, trying to be as quiet as he can - yet failing. His toes curl in his shoes, his hands longing to grip Y/N’s hair but settles for his own.

“Oh my god, ah – holy fuck,” he grunts, coaxing himself through his own orgasm, his head leaning against the bathroom door as he brings himself back to reality. When he comes out of his own little world, he realises he can no longer hear Y/N. Not wanting to risk being caught, he hurriedly cleans himself up before making his way back to the couch, picking up his book as if he had never left his spot.

10 minutes later, he hears the lock of the bathroom door, and out walks Y/N with wet hair and a flushed face, in sweats looking refreshed and muchmore relaxed. She stands leaning against the door, smirking at Spencer. Spencer’s eyes glance over to Y/N’s, confusion and nervousness written all over his face. The fear of Y/N potentially hearing what he was doing because of her makes his throat tighten and a knot form painfully in his stomach.

“You heard me, didn’t you?” Y/N asks, anxious to hear his answer. It’s not like she purposefully wanted him to hear, if he had, but the pleasure was all too much for her that she simply just could not keep quiet. Waiting for Spencer’s response, he lets go of his book and fiddles with his hands.

“Oh- uh, heard what?” Spencer acts cluelessly, not wanting to give himself away. He would be devastated if she found out and became repulsed by his behaviour. No longer being able to make eye contact with Y/N, he becomes interested in the front cover of his book, wishing the tension in the room could disappear. He doesn’t know whether it’s sexual tension or an awkward one, but either way he wanted it gone.

She slowly prowls her way over to Spencer who’s analysing her every move. Once she reaches the couch and she’s looking down at him with that same smirk as before, he gulps, confused as to what to do. He’s never been in a situation like this before. Y/N places her hands on both sides of his shoulders and straddles his lap, her eyes now level with his. Spencer’s hands stay by his side, not knowing what to do until he knows Y/N’s intentions. He lets out a low gasp as Y/N begins to leave light, feathery kisses all over his neck, gently rocking her hips into his. Making her way back up his neck, she grabs both sides of his face and roughly slams her lips against his.

Spencer’s too aroused to reject her touch. Instead, he grips Y/N’s hips, helping her to move their hips in sync, earnings small whimpers from the both of them, only increasing their need for each other – a need for each other they didn’t even realise they had. Disconnecting their lips, Y/N whispers in Spencer’s ear, making him shiver in pleasure. “I know you heard me… in the bathroom. I could hear you too, Spence,” running her hands through his hair, she tugs resulting him in letting out a loud grunt, gritting his teeth in both pain and pleasure. She smiles, surprised she has this effect on him already - and they’ve barely even started.

“Y-you sounded… sounded so fucking h-hot, I-I couldn’t help myself – fuck!” he hisses, grinding his hips with Y/N’s even harder, her back arching in ecstasy.

“F-fuck Spencer, please please just fuck me,” Y/N whines, attaching her lips onto the nape of Spencer’s neck again, feeling his cock grow harder and harder under her dripping wet pussy – which was still covered by her pyjamas.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Spencer chuckles, lifting Y/N off the couch with her legs wrapped around his waist. He spins around, throwing Y/N back onto the couch, making her squeal loudly and spread her legs for Spencer to nestle in between, attaching her lips back onto his, kissing every area of skin she possibly could to leave marks.

Little did they know they both wouldn’t be getting any sleep, fucking till 3…4am, before having to leave to get on a flight in the next few hours, not caring in the slightest whether the rest of the team could possibly hear everything in the rooms next to theirs.

Tags: @emmalvei-blog​