#i said ‘thank you for getting better at walking away when you’re annoyed and overstimulated instead of lashing out.’

[thevaudevillescene]

my actual child, whom i birthed and raised.

[itsbeeble]

Enchanted

Summary: You lost each other once, holding out in hopes of crossing paths again. It's almost fate that you do, and Wonwoo doesn't want to let you leave him again

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, exes to lovers

Pairing: Idol!jeon Wonwoo x afab!reader

WC: 4.5k (i got REALLY carried away yall im so sorry)

Series Masterlist

18+ MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

WARNINGS UNDER CUT

Warnings: hurt comfort, ex high school sweethearts to lovers, mentions of someone trying to get a little too touchy feely with reader so if you aren't comfortable, don't read it (nothing bad happens AT ALL, the guy is just a dumbass, but i figured i would put a warning for all of you), unprotected sex, making out, fingering, choking, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, begging, kinda dom/sub themes again, mentions of drinking, swearing, marking, spanking, Wonwoo likes boobs, sexual tension, mentions of chemistry, idk there's a lot so let me know if i missed something important

Listen to Enchanted by Taylor Swift <3

A/N: Guys i wrote this all today/last night and i'm really proud of it. It's also the first smut fic that's like...i wouldn't call it intense but it's more than what I'm used to ig. I hope yall like it though <3. Also thank you to Fawn for beta reading again. teehee

You had always hated gatherings: holidays, work events, family reunions, weddings, you name it. You always hated being the only person there without a partner. Not that you felt the need to have one, but it got annoying when you got the same questions over and over and over again.

When are you going to settle down and marry a nice boy?

Your parents aren’t getting any younger, don’t you want them to have some grandkids?

What are you waiting for?

The truth is, you had the answer to only one of those questions. What were you waiting for?

It has to be some stroke of luck when the answer walks right through the door to your high school reunion decked in an all-black suit and the same nerdy glasses he’d had his whole life. 

Jeon Wonwoo. Your high school sweetheart turned drunk sob story to your best friends after a few too many cocktails. 

It’s ironic how the root of all of your relationship problems just so happens to hate your guts. Not that you blamed him for it. Everything that happened between the two of you, everything that went wrong in your relationship was because of you and your insecurities. Because you didn’t trust that the idol life wouldn’t ruin the two of you. If you were him, you’d cut contact and disappear as well.

Eunchae, your best friend from high school, nudges your arm, her eyes flicking between you and the man who hasn’t spotted your wide-eyed stare. 

“Did you know he was coming today?” She whispers harshly, jerking you out of your dumbstruck trance. Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly, awfully reminiscent of a goldfish.

“I— no, no I didn’t.” You feel out of breath, your heart beginning to pound against your ribs so hard that you fear the bones might snap. “Hana said that— that he didn’t RSVP.” 

You look up again, and your heart stutters in your chest.

He’s looking at you, through the crowd of people around him. Wonwoo had his eyes locked on you, his gaze unreadable from where you stood. It feels like he’s cast an enchantment on you, freezing you under the weight of his gaze. 

Your hands are shaking, and the drink in your hand almost spills before Eunchae grabs you. Someone steps in front of Wonwoo— a man, from here you can’t tell who— and your view of him is cut off.

You don’t see him try to gently nudge the man to the side while talking to him, trying to get a better look at you. You don’t see the disappointment when he finally gets him to move and you’re gone, out of his view. 

~

“Wonwoo,” one of his old friends, whose name has slipped his mind (Seonkyung maybe?), claps him on the shoulder. “You really have grown up, huh?” Wonwoo smiles politely, adjusting the expensive watch on his wrist. 

“I mean seriously,” another man comes forward, someone Wonwoo knows very well and for all the wrong reasons. Lee Jongdae, the man who planted seeds of doubt in your ear. The man who ruined something good, something that would have lasted. “You used to be like,” Jongdae raises his hand, waving it flat in the air next to his shoulder, “this tall? And now you’re a giant!”

“You must be getting all the girls, eh?” Seonkyung teases. Wonwoo wants to scream, wants to get out of this situation as fast as possible. “The idol life must make things easy, right?” 

“I don’t really go out much,” he shrugs, still holding that polite smile on his face. “The idol life is busier than you think.” Seonkyung scoffs at this. Jongdae narrows his eyes, but the near-mocking smile returns to his face.

“Come on~” Jongdae presses, “there’s gotta be some idol woman that you’ve snatched up. Someone has to have grabbed the attention of the great Jeon Wonwoo.” 

He hesitates. Yes, someone has grabbed his attention but it isn’t another idol in the industry. 

“Or, wait,” Jongdae’s hand collides with Wonwoo’s chest, something similar to malice appearing in his eyes. “Are you still hung up on that Y/N girl?”

Wonwoo goes rigid, and beside him Seonkyung gets quiet. Jongdae bursts into laughter, the sound ringing around the room and gathering the attention of a lot of people. Wonwoo feels his jaw tick in annoyance, fighting the urge to roll his eyes or knock the man to the ground. 

“No way are you still hung up on her!” Jongdae huffs out between laughs, seemingly uncaring that he’s the only one laughing. “Ten years, and you’re still going after someone who couldn’t care less about you anymore?”

Someone inside of Wonwoo breaks a little bit. Something inside him cracks, and his resolve crumbles slightly. He hadn’t expected the jab to hurt as much as it did, but god did it sting. 

“I never said I was hung up on her.” Wonwoo folds his arms over his chest. “Like you said, it’s been ten years. If she’s moved on then that’s her business.” 

“So it wouldn’t bother you if I got with her?” Jongdae takes a step forward, an eyebrow arching in challenge. “Because I won’t lie to you, she’s looking good.”

Wonwoo’s jaw ticks again, but he keeps a pleasant smile on his lips. Don’t say yes, don’t say yes. “Like I said, not my business.” 

That clearly isn’t the answer Jongdae is looking for, and a puff of pride fills Wonwoo. 

And then dread. He just gave the one man he would hate to see you with permission to do whatever he wanted. “Permission”, as if he has any control or say in the things, or people, that you do. 

~

When Jongdae approaches you, there’s an immediate pit of despair in your stomach, like some princess waiting to be saved from the tower she’d been locked in. There’s a menacing look in his eyes, and he walks with a swagger telling you that he’s used to getting what he wants out of a situation. 

“Hi, gorgeous.” You almost cringe at the first words out of his mouth, your lips twisting into an awkward, tense smile. 

“Hi…?” 

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Jongdae continues, not waiting for you to say or do anything. He’s only focused on getting what he wants, that much is obvious from the way he smirks and glances around to find…someone. Who, you aren’t sure. “You sure have…grown up a bit, haven’t you?” 

“I mean…yeah I’m 27. I would hope I’ve grown up a bit.” He laughs a bit too hard for something you hadn’t intended to be funny. 

“Say,” he leans closer to you, and you press yourself back against the wall. His hand comes to rest on the side of your thigh, right near the slit in your dress. “Why don’t we get out of here? You know, go somewhere a little bit more…quiet? Maybe Mrs. Ji’s old chemistry lab?” 

Your body is tense, and you try to pull away from him. 

“No, thank you.” Your hand tightens around the small plastic cup of cheap wine in your hand. “I think I’m fine where I am.”

“C’mon, don’t you wanna loosen up a bit?” He coos, and his grip tightens on part of your dress. Your body tenses.

Then his grip was gone, and his body is hitting the floor, and people were beginning to surround you and Jongdae and…Wonwoo? 

Wonwoo is standing next to you, his black jacket seemingly gone, and the sleeves of his black button-up are rolled up to his elbows. His eyes are narrowed, his lips pulled into a thin line. 

“What the hell was that for, Jeon?” Jongdae pulls himself to his feet, trying to approach him, but another man steps forward. “Thought you said it wasn’t your business?”

“It wasn’t,” Wonwoo agrees, “but that was only until you tried to do that.” 

Something about Wonwoo being this protective over you, even after what you did, makes your stomach twist into knots. You have to remind yourself that he’s just doing this because he had to. Because this is what anyone would do, and your heart sinks into your stomach. 

“We were just trying to have some fun,” Jongdae snaps, “right Y/N?”

Wonwoo looks at you, and when you return his gaze it’s like you’re back in high school again. 

Do you want to leave? His head tilts ever so slightly toward the door. 

Get me out of here. You hope your eyes are portraying that thought perfectly, but the tight smile on your ex’s lips tells you all you need to know. 

“She’s not going anywhere with you, Lee Jongdae.” Wonwoo’s hand finds its way to the small of your back, and you find yourself tucking your body into his side just like you used to. 

Only this time, it’s like you fit perfectly under his arm. His very…very…very muscular arm and slim waist and when your arm wraps into the back of his shirt, you can just barely feel the tight muscles and—

Oh god, you’re gonna do something you shouldn’t if the two of you don’t leave right now. 

You’re lucky that Wonwoo is able to guide you away, and that Jongdae doesn’t try to come after the two of you. You figured that, while the man was stupid, he wasn’t going to try and harm someone making more than triple his annual income and with enough power to ruin his life with just one click of a button. Probably literally. 

~

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo has his hands wrapped around the headrest of the driver’s seat in his car, watching you as you pick at the skin around your manicured nails. You turn your head to look at him, pursing your lips. 

“I mean…I guess? He didn’t really do anything, thank god.” You let your hands drop to your lap and a heavy sigh escapes you when you let your head fall against your headrest. 

“I’m sorry that he did that.” Wonwoo’s voice is gravelly, and you have to take a moment to calm yourself before speaking.

“It isn’t like it’s your fault. You do know that, right?” Wonwoo shrugs.

“It kind of is, though. The only reason he went up to you is because of me. Because he wanted to get under my skin.” Oh? You arch an eyebrow, turning your body to face him. The slit in your dress shifts ever so slightly, exposing your bare thigh. Wonwoo turns his head away from you, his cheeks heating. 

“Why would he want to do that?” In your heart, you already know. The way the two of you easily slipped back into your old habits, the way he didn’t even hesitate to help you despite protesting that anyone would have done it. You knew, now, that he didn’t hate you. You just wanted him to admit it. 

Wonwoo lets out a heavy sigh and rolls his head to look at you. 

“You’re really gonna make me say it?” You nod, leaning your body across the center console to get close to him. You can tell he’s nervous, maybe embarrassed. 

“You know me, Wonwoo. I always get what I want.” You grin and Wonwoo turns to look at you again and suddenly you’re aware that you aren’t dating him anymore. That it’s weird for you to be that close to him. 

Your smile drops and you sink back into your seat. Wonwoo watches you, a frown replacing his previous smile. 

“I’m— I’m so sorry.” You press yourself as close to your door as possible. “I shouldn’t have— I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Wonwoo fights the itch in his brain that tells him to grab your hand and place a kiss on the back of it. He hadn’t realized just how enchanted with you he was until he saw you across the room for the first time in ten years. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed having you pulled against his side, although you fit much better now that he’d filled out and grown into his body. Wonwoo hadn’t missed the way your breathing hitched when he pulled you against him, hadn’t missed the dazed look in your eye when he looked down to ensure that you weren’t hurt. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I just— I shouldn’t have touched you like that—” 

“Y/N,” Wonwoo cuts you off. “You did nothing that I didn’t want you to do.” Your mouth snaps shut, and you look at him with wide eyes. He takes a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “I…I still— fuck this is harder than I thought it would be. For a songwriter, you would think I’d know how to confess that I’m still enchanted by you.” He laughs nervously, and when he turns to look at you, you’re smiling gently. You understand.

You stay quiet and then turn to him again. He’s facing you too, and your faces are inches apart. 

“I was enchanted by you too, Jeon Wonwoo.” 

And then your lips are on his, and it’s a searing kiss that leaves him breathless from the moment it starts. His hand rises to your cheek, gently pulling you even closer to him. Your hands wrap around the fabric of his shirt, and you whine when his tongue hesitantly prods at the seam of your lips. 

You open your mouth for him, and his hand slides to tangle in your hair and pull you impossibly closer, nearly across the center console. He roams your mouth, his tongue licking at every inch, sliding against your own as if this was the last time he’d ever be able to kiss you. Your hand slides down, tracing down to his tie, then to his abdomen and you can feel the muscles tightening wherever your nails trace. 

Your hand trails even lower, and you feel him freeze against you when you place your hand over his crotch. He forces himself to pull his lips from yours, a string of spit connecting your tongues, and his eyes flutter shut again when your hand squeezes lightly around his hard-on. 

“Don’t do this to me,” he pleads. “I’m supposed to be a gentleman.” You smirk, raising your lips to his ear. 

“What if I don’t want you to be?” A gentle kiss was placed to the corner of his jaw, and his grip on your hair tightened to the point of near painful. This draws a whimper out of you, right in his ear. He pulls you back, not harshly but enough for your jaw to drop. 

“Tell me you’re sure,” he practically begs. “Tell me that this isn’t going to be a one-time thing, that you want me as much as I want you. Tell me that you aren’t in love with someone else, that there’s no one waiting for you at home.” 

Tell me you love me.

Your hand slips to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing just under his eye. 

“You know that you’ve always been it for me, Jeon Wonwoo.” You promise, and your lips are against his again. It’s sweeter than the first but still filled with ten years of words left unsaid. “Take me home.”

~

The moment Wonwoo locks the door to his apartment, you’re pressed against the wall with so much force you’re surprised there isn’t a hole in the shape of your body. His hands are on your hips, your thighs, your shoulders, and your chest. Every time he pulls away from your lips, he catches one between his teeth, nipping at the soft flesh before shifting his focus to your neck.

“Wonwoo,” your voice is shaking, your hand tangled in the dark strands of his once neatly styled hair. “Wonwoo, please?” Another hickey blooms across your neck, another on your shoulder, then your collarbone. 

“Please what, baby?” He rasps, tugging the strap of your dress to the side until it slips down your shoulder and exposes more of your breast. “What do you need from me?” He slides the other strap down, and you gasp when his cold hands reach up and grab at the soft mounds on your chest. 

“Wonwoo— Wonwoo, I—” Your brain has gone to mush the moment his mouth lands on your nipple, sucking at it and nipping at the bud. You breathe out soft moans, your hands struggling to move to the back of your dress to reach for the zipper. 

It’s impossible to function with Wonwoo flicking his tongue against one nipple, his fingers kneading and twisting and pinching at the other. Your hands shake as you finally catch the zipper, yanking it down as quickly, yet gently, as possible. 

Wonwoo pulls away from your chest, breathing heavily, eyes filled with nothing but lust. He examines your body, entirely nude from your choice to go braless and pantiless tonight, and his cock twitches in his slacks. 

“God, you’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” He hisses. You peer up at him with eyes so innocent, but you both know that isn’t the case. “Did you know I was gonna be there? Hm?” He grabs your chin in one of his large hands, yanking you toward his face until you’re struggling to even stand on your tip toes. “Did you know that I was gonna give in to you?”

“No— Wonwoo, I didn’t know—” His free hand collides with your ass and you cry out, stumbling toward him. “Fuck, Wonwoo!” His hand strikes your skin again, and a gush of arousal practically drips down your legs. 

“I think you’re lying to me,” he hums thoughtfully. “Lying isn’t nice, you know.”

“I’m not lying— Oh, Wonwoo please—” His free hand has slipped down to your core, delicate fingers brushing against your sopping wet cunt. “Please touch me, please, I need it.” 

“Yeah, baby?” One finger pushes between your folds, and your knees almost buckle. Your nails dig into his biceps, squeezing the taut muscle as he sinks two long, slender fingers into you. “Need it so bad, don’t you? Had you waiting for so long. Did you miss me, baby? Miss this?”

“Missed you so bad, Wonwoo,” you arch your back into him, your hips jerking against his fingers. He slips a third inside of you. “Miss— Missed the way you t-touched me.” He hums, curling his fingers up into you and you emit a desperate cry of his name. “Right there, Wonwoo! Fu—fuck, right there!” 

“Tell me how much you missed me, pretty girl.” He continues to curl his fingers inside of you, watching you and enamored by the way your eyes roll back, the way your jaw is dropped, and the way your chest heaves. “Tell me how much you need me.” 

“N-Need you so–o bad. No o-one makes me fe-feel this good— oh god,” you clench around his fingers, pulsing and dripping down his wrist. “No one el-se made me c-cum like you d-do.” A swell of pride in his chest, and his thumb presses hard against your clit. You spasm around him, your moans growing louder and higher in pitch. “So close, Wonwoo.”

“It’s okay baby,” he purrs, “you can let go. I’m here now, gonna make you feel good. Gonna make you so good, never gonna have to turn to anyone else again. Just let go.” 

You spasm again, and your body sags as your orgasm rocks through you. Wonwoo has an arm around his waist, his other hand still working his fingers into you and easing you through your high. 

It takes you a few minutes to come down, and by the time you do, Wonwoo has removed his shirt and kicked his shoes off. He’s watching you as you try to step forward, catching you when you stumble. You reach for the button of his slacks and he stops you, smiling when you pout. 

“I’m not fucking you here, baby. You deserve to be fucked in an actual bed.” You let him guide you to his bedroom— correction try to guide you. It’s like you’re addicted to the taste of him, your lips practically gluing themselves to his biceps, licking and biting at the salty skin. You can feel every one of his breaths as he walks, and his pace picks up until he’s flinging open his bedroom door and shoving you in front of him. You stumble a bit, and he pushes you again so you fall face down onto his bed. Wonwoo isn’t far behind you, his body leaning over yours and his hand on the back of your neck and preventing you from pushing yourself up. 

“Do you know how much I missed this? Being able to fuck you wherever, whenever, and however I wanted?” He hisses into your ear, and you feel his free hand slip down your back as he reaches for the button on his pants. His hips keep rolling into yours, and the little grunts and moans that he releases are almost enough to get you to cum again. “Do you know how hard it was to not imagine that I was fucking your sweet little cunt every time I found someone to spend the night with? No one matched up to you, sweet girl. No one got me to cum like you do, got me as hard as you do.” You whine when he kicks your ankles apart, your nails gripping the duvet for dear life. 

When you feel his tip prodding at your entrance, it takes everything in you to not grind into him. He’s breathing heavily into your neck, slowly slipping in. Your body twitches and you fling your hand back, frantically searching for his own to squeeze and distract yourself from the pain of him stretching you out. 

“So tight,” he presses his forehead against the back of your neck, his body shuddering. “Fuck, it’s like nobody has fucked since me.”

“N-nobody else felt as good as you,” you gasp out. “No one could stretch me out like you do. Just fuck me, please.” 

“Gotta let you adjust, baby,” he argues. “Still got about half left.”

You whine again, jerking his arm in front of you and letting your face fall into it. He groans when your teeth sink into his skin, biting and sucking and gasping against him until you feel his hips connect with yours. 

“You ready?” He rubs your back gently, and you frantically nod your head.

“Please, please, please, please—” His hips pull back and you release a guttural moan as he slams his hips into yours. Again and again and again and again. Every thrust sends the tip of cock full force into that soft, pleasurable spot inside of you and it feels so good, and he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down, and you don’t ask him to. Your mouth has fallen open, a neverending stream of cries and moans and begging leaving your lips.

His hands reach forward, and you feel a finger hook into your mouth on either side. It stings, the stretch of him holding your mouth open, and you feel your back arch, his cock somehow hitting even deeper inside of you. Drool slips down your chin and it’s so nasty but you can’t form the words to stop him. The only things that leave your mouth are nonsensical babbling and you feel Wonwoo begin to rise, taking you with him. One of his hands leaves your mouth and slips down to the base of your throat, and the other’s thumb hooks into your jaw and holds your mouth open. His hand squeezes around your throat, and you squeeze around his cock

“You close, baby?” Wonwoo coos into your ear but you don’t have the brains to form words. Your hips press back into his, one of your hands slipping down to frantically rub at your clit. You’re clenching rapidly around him now, almost in time with when he pulls out of you and you can feel him twitching inside of you. “Gonna cum again?” 

You try to tell him that, yes you’re so close and it feels so good and oh god Wonwoo please—

Your body shudders and a sound similar to a scream escapes you, your free hand gripping his forearm tightly and you can feel the skin tearing beneath your nails but neither of you cares as he pumps white-hot cum deep inside of you. His hips are still rolling, adding to the sensation of his cum inside of you. Your core begins to sting with overstimulation, and you try to pull away from Wonwoo with a whine. He just laughs, his hands settling on your waist and lowering you down onto the bed once his cock has softened. 

~

Your back is against his in the tub and he’s running a soft cloth along your body, along the marks on your body and the bruises on your hips. 

“You doing okay?” His voice is tender. “I know I was a little bit harsh on you.”

You chuckle. “Not like you haven’t done that before.” 

You play with the suds that float in the water, humming quietly. Wonwoo takes a deep breath, letting his head fall back a bit. 

“Why don’t you hate me?” You lean your head back on his chest, and he frowns at the question.

“Why would I hate you?” 

A shrug and you drop your arms into the water. 

“I threw away a nearly perfect relationship just because someone said you’d drop me the moment you found someone better in the idol industry.”

“So?” Wonwoo traces shapes into the skin of your thigh. “That’s not your fault. I get that it was scary. Neither of us knew what was gonna happen, you were already stressed about how things were gonna work with you being in college. I’m not gonna blame you or hate you for that choice. What matters is that we found each other again.”

Your cheeks heat up and you turn your body around in the tub to sit on his lap. He looks up at you with nothing but pure adoration in his eyes. 

“Did you mean what you said?” You ask. He raises an eyebrow. “In the hallway. That I’d never have to turn to anyone else. Are we gonna…” Your voice trails off and Wonwoo raises his head to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

“I meant every single word I said tonight. I’m here to stay, Y/N.” His nose nudges against yours. “I was enchanted from the moment I met you, and I want to be yours again if you’ll let me.” 

You play with the strands of his hair, smiling like a madman. 

“And I meant everything I said as well,” You let your forehead rest against his, your eyes falling shut. “I want you to stay with me. Please.”

Wonwoo exhales softly. 

“Always. I will always stay.”

~

Taglist: @juyeonszn @leejihoonownsmyheart @nobraincellmode

[lotusbxtch]

The Best Ride In The Galaxy - Pt. 2

Pairing: brat-tamer!Poe Dameron x f!Reader Rating: M - 18+, MDNI! Summary: You and Poe play bedroom games, but who comes out the winner? Word count: 4732

Warnings: smut with barely plot, language, name-calling (bitch, asshole, cockslut, slut) but you’re both into it, pet names (my Poe speaks Spanish which is not canon but it’s my fic damnit), brat-tamer!Poe, D/S dynamics, safeword usage, physical restraints (handcuffs), mild humiliation, “she” pronouns in reference to vagina, very brief mild physical bullying, brief light slap to the face, panty sniffing, one (1) love bite, oral (f receiving), unprotected PIV sex (be smart, be safe!), rough sex, orgasm denial, overstimulation, squirting, brief fainting, creampie, established relationship, no use of y/n

a/n: I didn’t intend on writing a part 2 to my one-shot, but Poe said otherwise. Thank you to my dear sweet @for-a-longlongtime for beta reading! If you like my work, please comment and reblog! It would mean the world.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics 

Sometimes you don’t even know why you do it.

Maybe it’s the smirk he sports when he reads your mind, knows you better than himself. Maybe it’s that self-assured confidence and cockiness that gets him into trouble but is also the reason why he’s co-general of the Resistance. Or maybe it’s just because he does the exact same thing to you – pokes at you, annoys you, until you snap and he gets to play with fire.

You can’t remember how it got started, but that simmer of irritation was already burbling under the surface when he told you that he had to do a hands-on demonstration of advanced defensive maneuvers to the novice pilots in the squadrons.

You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Oh really? You just have to? Or is it because you, Poe Dameron, cannot pass up a single opportunity to show off?”

Poe huffed and shook his head, a small smile blooming on his face. “You’re insufferable sometimes, you know that?”

“It’s because you know I’m right, you idiot,” you retorted, folding your arms across your chest. The move unintentionally pressed your breasts together, enhancing your cleavage, and you saw Poe’s eyes dart to them. 

“Oh, sure, it’s not your fault that you have correct opinions and great tits, isn’t that what you always say?” he chortled.

“Fuck right off, Dameron,” you groused as you dropped your arms immediately. “Come back when you’ve stopped being a dick.” You turned on your heels and walked away, not even knowing why you’re giving him an attitude.

“At least you know I’m not unintentionally lying this time about when I’ll actually be back, baby,” he yelled in your direction as you stomped off. “I love you, you brat!”

Without turning around, you flipped him off. “Love you too, you fucking asshole! Come back in one piece!” You didn’t see him shaking his head and chuckling as you rounded the corner out of sight.

Two days later, Poe returns, right on schedule. By then, you’d spent enough time out of his presence to actually miss him unironically. You’d been going about your normal duties on base but sleeping in his empty bed at night, his scent still clinging to his sheets and helping you fall asleep without the warmth of his body next to you. When his pod door slides open, you lift your head from where you lounge on the bed.

“Hi baby!” you greet him, a warm smile on your face. You swing your legs over the side of the bed, hopping to your feet wearing nothing but one of his shirts and your lacy underwear. Those two nights had also been spent with nothing but your own fingers and toys to sate your sex drive, and much to your chagrin, it couldn’t compare to the way Poe was able to make you fall apart. 

When he walks through the pod door, you feel desire flare up warm in your belly. He’s still wearing his flight suit. He knows how crazy it makes you.

Poe tracks your movements with warm chocolate eyes as you saunter over to him, putting an extra swirl in your hips to entice him. But as soon as you get close enough to feel the heat of his body, he doesn't let you go further.

“Uh-uh, bebita,” Poe says as he puts a hand out. “You were being a brat before I left for whatever reason, so you don’t get what you want so easily this time.” You pout, but don’t press the issue. He wasn’t wrong; you had been absolutely insufferable for no reason.

Shaking your head slightly, you bite your lip and let out a huff of air from your nose. “That’s funny. Judging by that tent in your flight suit, I’d say what I want also seems like what you want, flyboy,” you retort, smirking at the obvious erection at Poe’s crotch.

“Oh, you sweet thing,” he purrs, keeping his hand on your chest. “You forget that out of the two of us, I have far more patience than you.”

“Hmm, that’s not what I remember about three nights ago,” you mock-thoughtfully muse. “If memory serves me correctly, I think you were begging? Something like, ‘oh Maker, please, baby, please let me fuck your –”

“That’s fucking it,” Poe suddenly growls and grabs your hips, crushing your lips to his. Moaning, you lean into the kiss, smiling quietly to yourself that you broke his resolve.

That is, until you hear a smooth metallic shick behind you and feel your wrists suddenly encased.

You pull away from him, eyes wide. Wriggling against the restraints, you realize that he’s –

“Handcuffed you? Yes, baby,” Poe confirms to you with a smirk. “You want to be a brat? Fine, but I’ll treat you like one then.” He leans into your ear, whispering, “If you want to come, you’ll have to be my good girl.”

You scowl at him in response, but simultaneously a shudder ripples involuntarily through your body. Poe’s smirk widens at your conflicting non-verbal messages. “That’s right, honey,” Poe teases, voice syrup-sweet and thick with amusement. “You like to play-pretend that you hate being made to behave, but your pussy says otherwise.” With that, he shoves his hand up your - his - shirt, immediately coming into contact with your drenched panties.

Poe tuts mockingly. “Already so wet for me, bebita? What a little cockslut you are. Couldn’t handle seeing me in your favorite outfit and you immediately wanted me to fuck you, huh?” He slips his fingers under the elastic of your panties, smearing the tips with your slick.

“Fuck you, asshole,” you grit out, trying desperately to not grind down on his fingers, needing to chase even the slightest friction to ease the ache between your legs. 

Poe chuckles darkly, a wicked smile gracing his lips. “Later, baby,” he rumbles, “only if you do what I say.” He pulls his hand back out from under the hem and slips his glistening fingers into his mouth, locking his eyes on yours as he groans at your taste. You can feel yourself clenching around nothing.

“Fuck, you taste so sweet. Can never get enough of you,” Poe murmurs. That infuriating smirk returns to his face.

You huff. “If you like it so much, why don’t you use your mouth for something other than sweet nothings?”

Poe’s eyes darken in a flash. “You’re gonna regret that.” He rips your panties off, the sound ricocheting around the room.

“Maker-damnit, Poe, those were my favorite ones,” you pout. They cost you more credits than you usually spend on frilly underthings, but the thought evaporates from your mind when you notice Poe bringing the lacy scraps to his nose and inhaling deeply, eyes closed. A whine snakes its way out of your chest.

His eyes flutter open. “What was that, sweet thing?” Poe croons, knowing exactly what he’s doing to you.

“You’re fucking filthy,” you manage to squeak out. He drops to his knees, pulling your right leg over his shoulder, lining up your dripping slit with his mouth as he drinks in the sight of you.

“Oh honey, I’ll show you filthy if you let me,” Poe whispers. “But right now you have to do what I ask you to, okay? Because if you don’t, you won’t like what happens.”

Your chin juts upwards defiantly. “Do your worst, Dameron.”

Poe smirks. “Stay quiet for me. Not a peep until I tell you that you can make noise. And if you start moving your hips against me, I’ll stop.” You nod, but you know it’ll be a challenge. He knows exactly what to do to make you squirm. 

“Do you remember our safe word?” he asks.

“Mandalorian,” you respond. He nods affirmatively.

“Let’s see what you can take, baby,” Poe rumbles, moving to trail kisses up and down your legs and thighs. You breathe in and out slowly, trying to control the nerves he’s currently setting on fire. He drags the tip of his tongue slowly in decorative little swirls across your inner thighs, locking eyes with you. Slick continues to pool in your entrance.

“How does that feel?” Poe murmurs, biting your thigh softly. You press your lips into a line, shuttering any words or noises rising in your throat. You knew better than to disobey him — the retribution would be hard and swift.

Poe chuckles. “Oh, it seems like my little slut is following directions for once. I’ll grant you a reward.” Suddenly he licks a slow, thick stripe through the very center of your soaked core, from twitching pussy to swollen clit. You swallow a whine, biting your lip. Poe’s smile turns predatory. He sucks your clit into his mouth with a lewd slurping sound, and the sudden firing of thousands of nerve endings forces your eyes closed. Poe bites your thigh in warning.

“Look at me while I lick your pussy,” he commands. You lock to his gaze immediately. “If you close your eyes again when my mouth is on you, you’ll be punished.”

You nod and Poe dips his head back down to your center, holding you up with his hands on your upper thighs, his grip firm. He licks, sucks, nuzzles, and gently nips at you, coaxing more slick to slowly drip from you as you fly closer and closer to your orgasm. Just before you can reach your crest, however, he backs off, nearly making you whine with frustration. 

Poe continues to torment you like this for what feels like hours. After a particularly delicious swirl of his tongue, your eyes involuntarily roll to the back of your head and you let out the tiniest moan. Your eyes pop open just as Poe lets go of your thighs and allows your balance to waver. You feel your body lurch side to side as you desperately realize you can’t use your arms to counteract your body’s momentum, and almost fall over, but he grabs you just as you tilt dangerously sideways. 

“I wasn’t joking, bebita,” Poe says menacingly. “I’ll have no problem letting your pretty little ass fall over if you refuse to follow directions.”

Nearly out of your mind with arousal and anger, you spit out, “I wouldn’t have such a problem if you would just put your fucking cock in me already like we both know you want to do!” 

You both stare at each other in silence for a few moments, your face flushed pink with exertion from all of the botched orgasms, and a storm of emotions flickering across his face. Suddenly Poe gets up and drags you with him to the bed. 

“You want my cock that badly, huh, you little slut?” Poe grits out, gently shoving you towards the bed. You stumble and fall sideways toward the mattress, your upper body and face bouncing off the surface humiliatingly since you have no ability to brace with your hands. You stumble back up, mouth ajar in shock. Poe’s never been this mean; you must have really pissed him off before he left for his trip. And for whatever reason, it’s making you even more wanton for him.

“Get on the fucking bed and kneel. Now.” Poe rumbles, his voice deep and authoritative. You stumble a bit to climb up without hands, having to shimmy to move your body. You kneel, sitting on your heels, your shins pressing into the soft surface as you wait for your next instructions.

Poe slowly, teasingly, walks towards the bed, stripping out of his flight suit slowly. The obnoxiously orange suit drops away, his shoes and socks long gone, and he’s left in nothing but his undershirt and boxers. He lifts the hem of the undershirt up as his biceps ripple while pulling the piece of clothing off his broad chest. He stops when his thighs hit the bed, cock lined up with your torso, and looks down at you.

“Take them off with your teeth,” he orders. You quickly comply, gripping the waistband of his boxers with your teeth and lips, pulling them down his body carefully. They peel off slowly, the task made more difficult without the use of your hands. After having to nearly fold yourself in half to get the boxers down, Poe’s cock finally springs free, achingly hard. The tip is red and angry looking, coated in a sheen of precum. You lick your lips and open wide, moving towards it. Suddenly, a warm palm is pushed into your forehead, blocking your advance. You actually growl and look up at the man holding you back.

“You think I’d give you my cock to suck as a reward for being such a demanding brat? Try again,” Poe mutters, pulling his cock away from you. You whine, your mouth watering embarrassingly. 

Poe shoves the rest of his boxers down his legs and gets onto the bed. Sitting with his back against the headboard, he grabs your hips and yanks you over, forcing you to straddle his lap, his hard dick pulsing under your dripping slit. 

“Be careful what you wish for,” Poe warns. Then he starts to lower you down, and your mind gets hazy the closer his cock is to making contact with you. When you feel the tip of him brush against your labia, you let out a breathy moan and try to sink down onto it. Poe grabs your hips and pulls up while pushing his down into the mattress, evading you. His smirk widens.

“Are you seriously going to make me chase your cock, Poe?” you pant, trying to force your hips down onto his to no avail. 

“Brats don’t get to decide when they get what they want,” he says, “or if they even get it at all.”

He teases your drenched entrance like this another two times. After the third, you let out a frustrated huff. “Stop fucking around, Dameron, just give me your –”

Your sentence ends in a scream as Poe grips your hips and shoves harshly up, bottoming out nearly immediately. A wave of pleasurable pain hits your body like a freight train.

“I said, be careful what you wish for,” Poe grits out, his eyes flashing nearly black with desire. You whine, words unable to form in your mouth, your cunt stretched and stinging from the sudden intrusion. Poe usually warms you up by making you come at least once before fucking you, and the fact that he fucked into you without warning is also new. You eye him, your vision swimming with arousal and wariness. He keeps his hands on your hips, letting you adjust to his thick girth inside of you.

“Now, as punishment, we’re going to play a little game,” Poe explains. “You’re going to sit on my cock, and neither of us are going to move besides breathing. I can’t thrust up, and you can’t clench down. Whoever moves first, comes last.”

Your eyes flick to the ceiling as you take a deep breath. Maker, he’s going to kill you like this.

“Are you fucking serious, Poe?” you say, trying to egg him on. “You won’t ever shut up about how good it feels to be in my pussy, you’re not going to last 30 seconds before you start thrusting.”

“Are you game or not?” he snaps. “Or I could just pull out of you and leave you here high and dry.”

“Stars, you’re so sensitive today,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Fine, I’ll play your silly game even though I know I’m going to win.”

“Oh-ho-ho, bebita,” Poe chuckles. “Little do you know, some friends of mine just taught me a new technique I’m gonna try out. They said it helps them tune into The Force, but that it’ll help me from getting distracted.” You peer at him questioningly.

“Since when did you turn into a believer?” you scoff. “You know what? Game on, flyboy.”

And with that, the cockwarming games begin. 

At first, it’s relatively easy. The lack of movement allows the burn from his intrusion to fade away, and the fullness is comforting. Your eyes are closed, your breathing slow. The seconds tick by. Then minutes. 

Eventually curiosity gets the better of you, so you open your eyes. Poe’s handsome face comes into view, and at first you think you’re seeing things. He sits, eyelids shut softly, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. You don’t believe it, so you count his breaths to confirm your suspicions. 4 seconds in, 4 seconds holding, 4 seconds out.

Poe motherfucking Dameron is meditating.

No fucking way could the impulsive, cocky, impatient Poe Dameron actually have learned meditation and well enough to allow him to win this game. So you sit there, pussy wrapped around his cock, and wait for him to crack.

Except he fucking doesn’t. The silence and stillness begins to get to you; you feel the impending sense of doom of losing the game crawl up your back and across your collarbones. You wrack your brain to try to find a loophole… and then you do.

“Poe, baby,” you croon at him. Poe keeps his eyes closed, but murmurs an “Mhm?” in response.

“There wasn’t any rule against talking, was there?” You bat your eyes innocently.

Poe opens his eyes suspiciously. “No, but now I’m thinking I may be regretting that. What are you planning, hmm?”

You sigh, doing your best to keep your pussy from fluttering while you weave your web of entrapment. “Oh, nothing. Do you want to know what I was doing while you were gone?”

“Let me guess,” Poe responds. “Did you think of a thousand new ways to torture me or provoke me?”

“Stars, no,” you say, falsely shocked. “I was just laying in your bed, because it smelled like you, and I missed you.”

“I don’t like where this is going,” Poe says warily. “What are you trying to do?”

“What do you mean?” you play along. “I’m just telling you about how my last couple of days have been and what I did to fill my time… since you weren’t around to fill me.” Still maintaining the innocent facade, you meet Poe’s eyes. He already looks wrecked. A wicked smile blooms on your face.

“Oh fuck you,” Poe grits out.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking about while I laid spread open in your bed, baby,” you whisper, staring him down. “My pussy was so fucking wet imagining you with me, your head between my legs, lapping at me like you love to do.” You hear a strangled groan escape Poe’s mouth, and you know you have him hooked.

“I was tracing my fingers gently around my clit,” you continued, “teasing it just like you do, and then rubbing it in circles. Didn’t feel as good as your tongue does though.” You let out a little moan but hold your muscles in place, pleading with your cunt to stay still. It obeys, but the slick starts seeping out of you, pooling around the base of Poe’s cock. He moans at the feeling, looking like he wants to fuck you or kill you, but unsure of which.

“I had to stuff myself 3 fingers full, fucking them hard and fast, to even get close to what you make me feel,” you whine to Poe. “I came, but it was just a little flutter, not like when you give me one.”

You look down at where your bodies are joined, and then back up into Poe’s eyes through your eyelashes coquettishly and smirk. “But you said just cockwarming tonight. So I guess I’ll just have to sit here, drenching your dick, and not rock against you, massaging you with my pussy.”

Poe’s face looks blank, and then suddenly his eyes darken. Your pulse quickens because you might have just won the game, but you also might be in danger.

“You fucking unfair little minx,” Poe growls and suddenly grips your hips hard enough to bruise. That smirk is wiped off your face a split second later as Poe lifts you slightly and then thrusts into you with all of his strength, spearing your cunt on his cock.

“You wanna play unfair? Fine. But you get to suffer the fucking consequences, you insatiable little bitch,” he sneers, fucking into you deep on the last word. Your mouth pops open in a silent scream. Of course this is what you wanted, but now? Now it’s brutal and all consuming.

Poe starts pounding up into you with no mercy, lifting your hips and slamming you back onto his lap as his cock keeps parting your channel, making you feel as if he’s splitting you in half. When you finally catch your breath, a ragged moan comes screaming out of your throat, and you throw your head back in ecstasy.

“Is this what my little slut wanted?” Poe asks rhetorically, never slowing his pace. “Needed to get this pussy pounded ‘til I rendered you stupid? Listen, baby, she’s so fucking wet, feels like she’s crying for me.” You do your best to listen to the obscene squelching and slapping sounds swirling around the room. No words leave your lips, just another loud and pathetic moan.

“Aww, poor baby can’t even say words now,” Poe chides mockingly. “Can’t tell me how good I’m making this pussy feel.” He rams in even deeper, feeling like he’s in your throat. Your cunt clenches as he hits your g-spot, sending you further into orbit. All you can utter are high pitched little mewls as he drags you kicking and screaming towards your orgasm.

“Do you feel me deep in you, baby?” Poe grits out, his thrusts continuing to devastate you. “I’m gonna make you come so fucking hard that you’re gonna pass out. You’re gonna take what I give you and you’re going to say thank you.” He punctuates the last two words with sharp thrusts that punch your cervix, adding a twinge of pain amongst the pleasure. Your head spins and your breath stutters, right on the edge.

“Please, Poe,” you beg without telling him what you need. But he knows. He drags his calloused thumb over your swollen, hard clit, drawing all of your muscles tight around him. His other hand remains tightly gripping your hip.

“Come for me. Right now,” Poe grunts, and you come with a long, whining scream. Your orgasm explodes in your core, shimmering out through your extremities, your face flushing immediately. You feel yourself creaming all over Poe’s cock. The sensation rips a growl out of his throat. “That’s fucking right, sweetness.” 

You lean against his chest, sated, eyes closed. His thrusts slow down, and he moves his hands from your hips to your shoulders. Bringing you upright once again, Poe trails kisses across your face, and then suddenly, he spears his cock deep into you again. A surprised moan rattles from your chest.

“Poe!” you exclaim, abruptly pulled from your post-orgasmic haze. He continues to sink into you over and over again, hard as steel.

“You thought I’d stop at one?” Poe tuts, lip curling as he punches his dick into you particularly harshly. “No way. You’re going to give me two more before I let you rest, since you were so hungry for this cock.”

“Oh Maker, Poe,” you slur, his slick-coated shaft stretching your walls. You try to rest your forehead against his, but he smacks your cheek gently to get your attention.

“Hey, uh-uh baby,” Poe chastises. “Keep your eyes open. Who's giving you the cock you so desperately needed, huh?”

“You, Poe. Only you,” you half-sob, mind dizzy with pleasure feeling another wave begin to build inside your belly. He continues to work you open, the squelching sound of your pussy around him filling the room. Your breath comes faster and shallower as you approach your second crest, shattering into a million pieces with a squeal. Poe groans at your wet release, but he doesn’t stop hammering into you.

Tears slide down your cheeks as you struggle to keep your eyes on Poe, the pleasure nearly unbearable. Swaying slightly, your head lolls to the side. Suddenly the world is shifting as Poe flips you off of his lap and onto your back, your hands still shackled together against your back. The position puts a bit of strain on your shoulders, but you hardly care. You’re barely conscious of Poe rearranging your legs on the bed, spreading you wide before shifting you up onto his kneeling lap and sliding home once again. Low moans escape your mouth as he pushes in, hitting that soft spot deep in you that only he’s been able to find. You clench down, slightly pained.

“I can’t, baby,” you whine, Poe unrelenting in his rhythm. He looks down at you with the cockiest smirk.

“Do you need to use your safeword?” Poe asks softly, pressing deep and holding himself there. You gasp and meet his eyes. Brows furrowed, you answer, “No.”

“Okay, then hush,” he responds with a chuckle, resuming his motions. Against your belief, you feel your body working itself into a knot again with an approaching third orgasm. But this one feels different.

“Poe…” you whimper. His thrusts speed up, the opposite of what you were going to ask. “No, Poe, I think… I think —” He looks down at you with concern crossing his face, then presses down on your belly, right above your pubic bone. You squeal, feeling the pressure mounting. His smile darkens. 

“Is my baby afraid of wetting the bed?” Poe teases in a singsong voice. You nod rapidly.

“Are you going to use your safeword?” He waits for a response. You just keep staring at him with wide eyes. His smile widens. “That’s what I thought. Shut the fuck up and take it.”

You keen over and over again as he keeps pounding into you. Poe slips his other hand down to your clit, thumbing it once again. His breathing is getting harsher, his thrusts sloppier. Pushing your limits creates a potent, arousing cocktail for his brain, and he rockets towards his finish.

“I’m gonna make you squirt all over yourself when you come, and then I’m going to fill up that pussy with my cum instead of the inside of my fucking flight suit,” he grits.

The filthy dialogue pushes you over the edge, and Poe feels your pussy clamp down on his cock as a strangled scream escapes your open mouth. As he pulls his cock out, you gush milky fluid all over yourself, the bed, and Poe’s lap. He hastily shoves himself back in and out, pushing another release of liquid from you each time. Poe suddenly shouts, burying himself against your cervix and painting the inside of your cunt with his cum as the world goes dark for a few moments, your hearing narrowing as if you’re in a tunnel, your breaths loud against the inside of your ears.

You come to as Poe is shaking you gently, his brows knitted together with worry. When you blink your eyes open, a sigh of relief leaves his lips. He presses soft kisses across your face, stroking your jaw with his thumbs. Rotating your wrists, you notice he freed you from your restraints.

“You did so well, bebita,” Poe croons. “Such a good girl, coming so hard for me.” You smile gently, your mind still hazy.

“I guess you didn’t reneg on your promise this time, Dameron,” you murmur cheekily. Poe huffs, a tiny smirk on his face. “You really did fuck me ‘til I passed out.”

“And you liked it, huh?” Poe teases. You nod your head. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his body. You sigh happily, burrowing your face into his sweaty chest. Legs intertwining, the two of you share breaths as you come down from your highs.

“Do you even remember why you were being a brat?” Poe suddenly asks. You look up at him and shake your head, laughing.

“No, I fucking do not,” you giggle, “but if it gets you to fuck me this hard again, I might have to be irrationally grumpy with you another time.” Poe rolls his eyes and starts tickling your sides, causing you to shriek and wiggle away, and his cum to seep out of your pussy deliciously. 

Now you remember why you act up with Poe for no reason.

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[mrshigurumasshop]

Overstimulated | HQ Men ~ the one where you just needed littleeee bit of space

─➭ hq men x fem!reader: atsumu miya, bokuto kotaro

─➭ mentions of: overestimation (not nsfw), reader is just irritated and tired, no hard feelings, fluff, comfort (?)

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Atsumu Miya

You had a longer day than you anticipated, thus sparked a little irritation. You were called into work 30 minutes earlier than usual because some higher up decided they wanted to see your presentation earlier than planned so you rushed to get ready for work and didn't look as professional than usual.

Then you forgot your lunch and your boyfriend was already at work and couldn't bring it to you. So you were hangry all day and small things just kept building up. When you came home you were ready to finally be away from people and decompress, your boyfriend (who shows his feelings physically) thought that's what you needed.

"Atsumu, please," you said firmly as you turned around to face him. You had such a irritated look on your face that Atsumu almost cried on the spot. "Give me some freaking space."

Poor baby was just trying to hold you from behind since he hadn't seen you all day. And he’s well aware that he can be annoying but he's never seen you look at him like that. He'd think you'd look cute with your nostrils flared up but you kinda scared him a bit. So he gave you what you asked for with a little pout on his face and stepped aside to let you walk out of the kitchen into your shared bedroom.

You let out a frustrating huff as you close the door to take a much needed bath. Had you just realized that you snapped at ‘tsumu? Yes. Are you gonna apologize? Of course…but after the bath. You need to calm down for a bit after all that.

Atsumu heard you turn on the faucet in the bathtub so he knew you were going to take a while but he has matured enough to understand that you needed the space. And he remembered the texts you sent venting to him about what’s happening.

He orders for pickup from your favorite spot just around the corner from your building and set some pj’s for you since he noticed you forgot to grab some and left it on the bed before leaving to get the food.

About 20 or so minutes later, you felt so much better. With how overwhelming you felt all day, you never got the chance to just slow down for a second. You grabbed your towel resting on the toilet cover as you get up from the tub. You wrap it around yourself then drained the water. You do your regular skincare routine and left the bathroom to see a pair of sleep shorts and atsumu’s t-shirt.

You let out an appreciative smile before drying off and putting the clothes on. Once you finished you walked out of the room to go find ‘tsumu and apologize but he wasn’t there. You pout a bit thinking you really hurt his feelings so you were going to call him but you heard the front door unlock.

You take a couple of steps over to the door to see him walk in with two plastic bags in hand. One had two to-go boxes and the other held a small and clear container with what looks like cake.

As ‘tsumu takes his shoes off he looks up to see you standing there looking cute as shit in his t-shirt. “Hey baby, you okay?” he asks with a smile as he walks over to you.

You smile back and it makes his chest warm. “Yeah honey,” you say softly as you cup his cheek, “I’m sorry for being snappy earlier. I didn’t mean it.”

‘Tsumu gives you a wider smile as he leans into your touch and moves his head to press a kiss on your palm. “I know baby, it’s okay,” he says as he sets the bags on the kitchen counter before opening them. He pulls the to-go boxes out and opens one up to you, “Your favorite from the shop around the corner, m’lady. And a mini bundt cake.”

You giggle and lean up to press a kiss on his cheek with a loud smooch, “Thank you, ‘tsumu.”

“You’re welcome, baby,” he smiles as he looks at you then your lips, “Can I hold you? I missed you.”

You didn’t hesitate to wrap your arms around his neck and stood on your tippy-toes to press a loving kiss against his lips. Atsumu sighed into the kiss as he slides his hands over your hips towards your lower back.

Both of you pull away with smiles on your faces. You look up at him with sparkling eyes and a smile. “Love you, baby,” Atsumu whispers against your lips.

“Love you too, ‘tsumu.”

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Bokuto Kotaro

Working from home had its pros but the cons? Staring at two different screens all day in the same chair can be the most irritating con. Yes, you can get up and stretch while working in your pj’s by today was not the case.

You’ve been back and forth with the same damn project you and your team have been working on for weeks. Everything and anything regarding the said project has been making negative impacts and affecting communication with your team. As much as you love them, your patients was running thin.

You were in a middle of a phone call when Kou came home from practice. He stayed longer than usual for practice for a game coming up so he came home wanting to see you right away since he missed you so damn much.

But he was caught in your wrath when he barged into your little home office in the guest bedroom of your shared home to gain your attention.

“Baby!” he called out loudly as he opened the door and walked towards you with his bright smile.

Now he usually does this when he comes home but with what was going on with work you just couldn’t take it. Feeling him wrap his beefy arms around your shoulders it felt like the weight of your project was pulling you down. And the pressure you felt in your chest made you antsy and uncomfortable right away.

“Kou, get off I’m in a meeting,” you scolded as you lightly pushed him away and turned back towards the computer screens.

Oh our sweet owl’s hair deflated had the sound of your mean mom voice, he likes to call it. A deep pout settles on his face as he stares at the back of your head. “Meanie…,” he mumbled then his eyes move behind your head to the two screens. He recognized the slides you were looking at.

“The same project?” he thinks…

He remembers you venting about your frustrations with the project a couple days ago and he thought things have settled down now. So he steps out of the room while closing the door softly. Yes, he’s a little hurt but you’re stressed so it’s not something he’ll take to heart.

You’re a patient woman. One of the many reasons why he loves you. When he has his downs, you’re there for him the entire way and he’ll do the exact same for you. When you’re frustrated you do tend to want to be alone for a minute or two than wanting any physical interaction like Kou does.

So, since you still have 15 more minutes left till you clock out for the day, Kou gets the idea to hopefully lift your spirits. He had called you during his break to let you know he’ll be picking food up for dinner so it was all ready for you once you were.

Exactly 15 minutes later, you let out the longest sigh as you get up from your chair to stretch. You also let out a quiet ‘jesus christ’ in frustration too when you remembered how you greeted Kou back earlier. You hate acting out like that because it leaves a bad taste in your mouth. So you move your stiff legs out the bedroom door.

“Hey, sweets!” kou smiled with his hair standing a bit.

Your eyes widen as you slip an ‘oh’ in surprise seeing a little fort in the living room and take-out boxes ready to open. It looks like Kou was laying the pillows from the bed down on the floor with blankets galore piled together.

You giggle as you take in the scene. The warm fairy lights were on and so was the tv. The smell of food made you stomach growl. Kou sits on one side of the fort with a huff. “Come here, baby,” he pouts with open arms, “I know you had a hard day.”

You move hastily towards him to sit on his lap and arms wrapped around his neck. Your face nuzzled into his neck. Kou takes you in a warm embrace with his arms around your waist. “M’sorry, Kou,” you mumbled as he held you tighter against him, “Stupid project is kicking my ass.”

Kou laughs softly as he presses kisses on your shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, baby,” he says before pulling away from you, “I got your favorite from that restaurant down the street.”

You smile and cup his face before smooshing his cheeks together. “You’re the best, you know?” you say as a fact before giving him a fat kiss like you usually do when he comes home.

“You are though,” you mumble against your kiss as he squeezes your waist and pulls away with a happy smile, “The best and the prettiest baby…”

You laugh wholeheartedly as he began to smother you in kisses and raspberries. “Kou!” you laugh, “Come onnn, I’m hungry!”

“Nope!” he laughed and continued to kiss and tickle your sides, “This is what you get for being mean!”

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[illegal-spiegel]

Late Night Workout

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugou x f!reader x Eijirou Kirishima 

Genre: smut, fluff if you squint 

Warnings: threesome (kinda? Idk they take turns with you lmao), degradation, praise, dry humping, teasing, like one spank I think, implied masturbation, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, Kiri loses control for a moment (in a good way), uh I think that’s it- 

Summary: The three of you sneak into your regular gym to work out after hours only to get locked inside. Surely there’s a way for you three to pass the time? 

WC: 5.2k words

1k followers event - 42. “Here, you look cold.” 52. “Were you watching me?” 78. “Guess we’re going to be here for a while…”

Read on AO3!

“Hurry up, guys!” Kiri shouts, turning to look over his shoulder at you and Bakugou. 

“Shut up, dumbass. Someone will hear you,” Bakugou snaps, lightly grabbing your arm to speed you two up. Kiri’s cheeks get a little pink as he sheepishly smiles at you two while he waits for you to catch up. 

“Sorry,” he whispers. You giggle and loop your arm through his when you reach him, giving him a reassuring smile. 

“Don’t worry about it. Bakubro is just nervous.”

“Don’t call me that, shithead.” 

“Well, I’m excited!” Kiri softly cheers, bumping his hip with yours. You hum and bump him right back, letting the two boys lead the way. 

“Here, you look cold.”

You stop when Kiri stops, your eyes widening a bit when he tugs his hoodie off and brings his shirt up with it. You quickly advert your eyes, finding Bakugou has stopped to watch the two of you. 

“No, that’s okay. I don’t nee-”

“I can see the goosebumps on you,” he teases after pulling the material over his head, offering the hoodie–which happens to be the one you got him for his birthday–to you. You smile sheepishly as you take it, pulling the blue material over your head and humming at how warm it is. 

“Thanks, Kiri,” you say softly, watching his smile widen at your words. 

“Don’t mention it,” he says as he takes ahold of your hand and leads you over to Bakugou. You now loop your arm through Bakugou’s and bite back a smile when he acts annoyed by it but tugs you closer to him nonetheless. 

When you reach your destination, you all grin widely (Bakugou more so smirks). “Okay, we have to be quick,” you whisper, starting to head for the door, “Onizuka should be doing his final rounds right now.” 

“Remind me again why we can’t come to the gym during the gym’s hours like normal people?” Bakugou asks with a sigh, watching you sneak around. 

“Because that bitch Rosalia thinks she’s so much better than me and she always comes to the gym when she knows I’ll be there. She’s always trying to compete with me and follows me around the entire time,” you groan. 

“Right. And we are here because…” Bakugou grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Because you’re supportive friends. You know she has a crush on you both. So, with you not being there either, she can eat my dick. Plus I need someone to spot me,” you conclude your explanation as you creak the door open. Bakuogu snorts at your lovely explanation and follows you inside the building. 

“I still think this is overkill.”

“I’m here for you, (Y/n)!” Kiri whisper-shouts, giving you an air pump. 

“Thank you!” 

With that said, you three sneak inside the building and move your way toward the locker rooms. You make sure to avoid Onizuka, and once you’re sure he’s gone, you all (read: you and Kirishima) cheer. “Sweet, we’re in! Let’s get ready!” 

Bakugou grunts and walks away from you both to go into the guys’ locker room. Kiri gives you a thumbs up before following him inside. You walk into the girls’ locker room and start undressing, pulling on your leggings and sports bra. Hero training, especially pro hero training, can be hard stuff, but you have to say, you’re happy with how it makes your body look. You’re hard in all the right places and soft in the important ones. 

After getting changed, you come out to find the boys waiting for you. “Well, let’s get going,” you say with a smile before jogging into the gym area. You completely miss how their eyes are roaming your newly exposed skin. 

You three workout on and off for about two hours, just letting yourselves feel the burn and work up a good sweat. After doing some cooldown exercises, you three call it a night. “We’ll meet you outside, yeah?” Kiri asks as he runs a towel over his hair. He wore it down today, and with how much he’s sweating, you can’t help but think he looks delectable. 

“Yeah,” you agree, quickly looking away from him and downing some of your water. You then head inside the girls’ locker room, taking a deep breath and trying to calm down. Your heart is just still going fast from your workout is all. Yeah, that’s all it is. 

You decide to take a quick shower, figuring that the cool water will feel nice on your overly hot skin. It doesn’t really do you much good though since you end up touching yourself anyway…

After letting the water rush over you for a few minutes once you’re done with your fun, you hop out and wrap a towel around your body. You hum to yourself as you walk over to your locker, swaying your hips a bit as you pull out your clothes. Just as you finish tugging on your underwear, you hear a throat clear behind you. You spin around to find Kirishima with a red face and Bakugou with a smirk on his. 

“Guys! What are you doing in here?” You grab Kiri’s hoodie and press it to your chest to hide your body from them. You’re in your bra and panties, so it could be worse, but you’re not exactly decent. Remembering who your best friends are, you gasp and playfully squint your eyes at them. “Were you watching me?” you ask in a teasing tone, knowing they wouldn’t actually do such a thing and act like creepers. 

“No! No, of course not, (Y/n)! We just came to tell you…” You raise a brow when Kirishima suddenly trails off. 

“Tell me what?” you ask, picking your towel up with your free hand to run it through your hair. 

“The doors are locked,” Bakugou finishes for him. Your brow raises higher as you toss your towel onto the bench in front of you, your free hand resting on your hip now. 

“Uh, yeah, I know,” you reply with a small snort and roll of your eyes. Does he think you’re a moron? 

“No. They’re locked from the outside. We can’t get out without a key,” Bakugou explains, crossing his arms over his chest as he squints his eyes at you.  

“Oh…” your voice falters, your arm falling down by your side. Yeah, maybe you are a moron. 

“Yeah…” Kirishima mumbles, rubbing his arms sheepishly. You sigh and close your eyes, placing your hand onto your forehead as you try to think. “Guess we’re going to be here for a while…”

“God, I am so sorry, guys. I shouldn’t have roped you into my shenanigans,” you mumble, feeling guilty. Your hand holding Kiri’s hoodie scrunches the material, the hoodie shifting to reveal more of your skin when you do so. 

“Hey, don’t worry about it, (Y/n). You had no way of knowing. Besides, we can probably find a window or something,” Kiri reassures as he walks over to you. He goes to place a hand on your shoulder before remembering that you’re not exactly wearing much. You blush at this as well and tug his hoodie closer to yourself with both hands. 

“We’d probably set off alarms if we touched any of the windows,” Bakugou advises, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning his weight onto one foot. 

“I’m really sorry, guys…” you mumble again, looking at the ground in shame. 

“Hey, I already said not to worry about it. We aren’t mad.”

“Speak for yourself,” Bakuogu pipes up with a scoff, starting to walk towards you both. You look up at him with big eyes, reminding him of an innocent, little bunny. 

“Bakug-” Kiri starts warningly, but Bakugou just cuts him off. 

“That just means you’ll have to make it up to us, sweetcheeks,” Bakugou finishes, a sinister smirk appearing on his face at that moment. Your brows knit together as you try to guess what he means, worriedly glancing at Kiri only to find him looking just as confused as you. 

“C’mon, man. She doesn’t owe us anything.” 

“Oh, I think she does,” he argues as he stops right in front of you, making you gulp. 

“What do you want?” you stutter out, nervously staring up into those pools of fire. 

Bakugou looks up towards the ceiling as he places his hands on his hips again, seeming to think about your question. “How about…” he starts, bringing his head back up to look down at you. You jump and drop the hoodie to the floor when he suddenly surges forward, his hand slamming onto the locker by your head. You press yourself back against the cold metal, goosebumps raising from your bare skin touching the cool lockers. “You get down on your knees and make it up to me?” he coos menacingly. 

You gasp and feel your eyes widen tenfold, your throat bobbing as you swallow. He doesn’t mean…

“Bakugou…” Kiri mumbles, bringing the blond’s gaze to his best friend. 

“What?” he asks in a bored tone, lazily looking over to the shorter male. 

“We talked about this…” 

“Did we?” he asks at the same time you ask, “You did?” 

“Yes…” Kiri mumbles awkwardly, a flaring red blush coming to his face as he awkwardly looks between you two. 

“Mm, too bad I don’t recall,” he purrs as he turns to look back at you. 

“No. What did you two talk about?” you demand. Bakugou raises a brow at the assertive change in your demeanor, a corner of his mouth twitching. 

“You really wanna know?” he purrs, looking at you up and down. This is when you realize you dropped the hoodie you were clutching to you earlier and you’re practically naked. Though, with the way he’s looking at you, you don’t think you really mind. 

“Obviously,” you snap, clenching your jaw as you determinedly stare up at him. He only smirks at you, as if you were nothing more than a puppy growling and trying to make itself look bigger. 

“Should I tell her or would you like to do the honors?” Bakugou speaks up, never taking his eyes away from yours. You, however, bring your gaze over Bakugou’s shoulder to a very embarrassed and flustered Kirishima. 

“Uh…” Kiri starts, seemingly at a loss for words. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so red. 

“We had a little competition going on to see who could win you over,” Bakugou confesses, not hesitating for a second. He doesn’t even seem ashamed or embarrassed. Not even a little. 

Your jaw completely drops open at this, looking between the two to see if he was joking. From the way Bakugou is cockily smirking and Kiri looking like he wants the floor to swallow him whole, you figure he must be telling the truth. 

“Excuse me?” you find yourself saying, gaping at them. You’re not necessarily mad, but you’re not just going to accept this mind-blowing information either. 

“No. It wasn’t a competition necessarily,” he stutters out, stepping closer to the two of you, “We’re so sorry, (Y/n). We-”

“Speak for yourself. I’m not sorry at all.”

You scoff and bring your eyes back to Bakugou, finding him relaxed and cool as ever. You defyingly tilt your head up at him, crossing your arms over your chest. This, of course, causes your breasts to squish together and both of their eyes flicker down at the action. Your lips twitch with the threat of breaking your angry expression with a smirk. Honestly, you’re not angry at all. If anything, your stomach is swirling with excitement and desire. 

“Well, you should be. I’m not a trophy you can compete for. I’m a person,” you sass, squinting your eyes at him. He doesn’t falter at all though, continuing to stare you down with that stupid cocky expression. 

“Oh yeah?” he challenges, tilting his head to the side as he brings his face closer to yours. 

“Yeah,” you respond confidently. Well, you think you sound confident but by the way Bakugou reacts to you, you must’ve sounded like a scared chipmunk. 

“Oh. That’s interesting coming from the person who eyes us like we’re two slabs of meat for your pleasure and enjoyment.” Oh shit. Were you that obvious? 

Your surprised, wide-eyed look makes Bakugou chuckle lowly, his body pressing closer and slotting one of his legs between your own. 

“I…I don’t do that,” you lie, no longer making eye contact with either of them. Bakugou laughs, actually laughs, at this. 

“Right. So I guess it was just my imagination when Kiri gave you his hoodie earlier, you were slobbering over his abs when his shirt slipped up a bit.” You gasp and look up at him in shock, your eyes looking over to Kirishima. He seems just as surprised as you though. That’s good at least. You weren’t too obvious if he didn’t even realize. Then again, Kiri can be oblivious to things like that. Just last week this woman he saved was practically slobbering all over him and trying to ask him out on a date. He was completely unaware and just told her to have a nice day. The thing was, she still swooned over him despite getting shot down (though unintentional). All he has to do is smile and no one can stay mad at him. Hell, even Bakugou falls victim to that. 

Bakugou just happens to be an overly observant prick, got it. 

“Yes, it was,” you deny, your hands squeezing your upper arms crossed over your chest. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

“Hm, guess I have an overly wild imagination since I could’ve sworn you were looking at my ass while I was doing squats,” he teases, his smirk still ever-present. 

“Nope,” you further deny. Your cheeks aren’t the only thing that’s warm. Your whole body feels like it’s an inferno. 

You gasp when he suddenly grabs your hips and makes you grind down on his leg. “What are you doing?” you shout. You make absolutely no move to get away from him though. And he notices this. 

“You clearly aren’t going to confess on your own, so I’m going to force it out of you.” You tremble against him as he keeps rubbing his thigh against your pussy. You start moving on your own accord, grinding against his muscular leg as you bite your lip. 

“Bakugou…” Kiri says softly, entranced by the way your body is moving. The blond turns to look at his best friend over his shoulder, his smirk turning into an arrogant grin. 

“Why so quiet? I almost forgot you were there,” he teases. Kiri crosses his arms over his chest, whether that be because he doesn't appreciate the teasing or it’s his way of protecting himself from the embarrassment, you don’t know. 

“C’mere,” he suddenly demands, reaching his arm back towards his friend. Kiri audibly gulps as he takes the last few steps forward to reach you both. Bakugou loosely wraps his arm around Kiri’s shoulder and presses him into his side. “Kiss her,” he whispers into his ear. Kirishima gasps and turns his head to look at the older man. 

“What?” he asks, shock written all over his face. 

“Yeah, do it,” he commands. Kiri starts shaking his head, refusing to make eye contact with you. 

“This isn’t ri-”

“Look at her,” he interrupts, pushing Kiri’s cheek with his fingers to bring his head towards you. Kiri finally looks at you and feels his cock twitch in his pants. You’re flushed now from all the moving you’re doing. You’re trembling as you search for release against Bakugou’s pants. 

You look hot. 

“She likes it. She likes us,” he reassures his best friend. “Isn’t that right, princess?” he suddenly asks you, turning to look at you once more. When you don’t respond, he squeezes your hips hard and makes you come to a stop. You whine and wiggle your hips, trying to break free to continue. “I asked you a question,” he says lowly, uncaring that you’re whining and trying to finish what he started. 

“Yes. Yes, please. I wanna cum,” you beg, looking up at them both with pleading eyes. Bakugou hums and turns to look at the redhead. 

“What do you think, Eijirou? Should we let her cum?” Kirishima gulps once more and you watch the way his adam’s apple bobs at the action. 

“Yeah…” he mumbles, his eyes roaming your bare skin and stopping on your panties that are very obviously drenched. Wow, you really like this, huh? 

“Yeah?” Bakugou asks, tilting his head. 

“Yeah,” Kiri confirms, biting his lip with his sharp teeth. 

“Hm…” Bakugou hums, looking you over in consideration. “I don’t think the little liar deserves it,” he decides. He lets you go and takes a step back. You whine and slump against the lockers, feeling close to tears. Who would’ve known Bakugou was such a big tease? 

“Please,” you beg, looking between each of them. 

“Admit that you’re always staring at us then,” Bakugou decides with a shrug. This has you pausing. What little pride you have left wants to refuse, but ultimately your body overrules your pride. 

“Okay, yes. I check you out a lot. You do the same thing to me though,” you respond. You didn’t actually know if they did or not. After everything that’s just happened though, it makes sense for them to do so. 

“I never said we didn’t, sweetheart,” Bakugou casually responds as he sits down on the bench. You feel another whine forming in your throat but swallow it down. Why isn’t he touching you anymore? 

“Well, go on, Eijirou. Touch her.” 

You’re surprised Kiri doesn’t get whiplash from how fast he turns to look at Bakugou. “What?” he asks, just like how he had done earlier. Bakugou leans back on his hands on the bench, his eyes glancing down at his friend’s obvious hard-on.

“What, you don’t want to?” Bakugou asks innocently, tilting his head with a raised brow. 

“No!” Kiri shouts. He then blushes and shakes his head. “No, I mean yes. I want to, yes. But…” he trails off, turning to look at you. He can’t look at you for too long though, but at the same time, he can’t look away. You just look so needy and desperate.  

“Kiri, please. Touch me. I want you to,” you plead, grabbing his arm and forcing him closer. He licks his lips as he nods his head, giving you a once-over. 

“Okay,” he barely whispers before leaning and connecting your lips. You happily hum into the kiss, his warm body sharing his body heat to warm you back up from where you got cold after Bakugou moved away from you. You gasp into the kiss as his hands leave from where they were cupping your cheeks to trail down your body. He’s very respectful on the way down, moving in the valley between your breasts down to your panties. There, one hand rests on your hip where Bakugou’s was not too long ago while the other slips to the front of your underwear. He starts rubbing your throbbing heat through the wet fabric, listening to you mewl and try to grind against his fingers. 

“She’s so wet,” he suddenly speaks, trailing kisses down your jaw to your neck. You moan and look over his shoulder at Bakugou, who is palming the tent in his joggers as he watches the two of you. 

“I could’ve told you that,” he laughs, his free hand coming to rub the wet spot you left on his pants. Your blush worsens at the teasing, your head falling back to give Kirishima more room to work on your neck. 

“Can I have her first?” he suddenly asks as he pulls away, his ruby red eyes staring into your half-lidded ones. 

“She’s all yours…as long as she’s okay with having the rough treatment after the gentle one,” Bakugou answers, smirking at you with the same dumb smirk he’s had on his face since he first walked into the locker room. 

Kirishima stares down at you as he awaits your response, his eyes searching yours. You inhale and exhale shakily before nodding your head. “Just make sure to actually make me cum,” you tease, your usual personality shining through your current wrecked one. 

“Mm, trust me. You’ll be begging for me to stop by the time I’m done,” Bakugou boasts. You don’t get the chance to reply though since Kirishima is hoisting you up and pressing you harder into the locker, your legs tightly wrapping around his waist. It doesn’t surprise you that he can lift you up so easily. The amount he benches is actually insane. Then again, most pro heroes can bench around what he does. 

You gasp when you hear a ripping sound, pulling back from the kiss to look down. You find your panties in shambles, the ripped shreds falling to the floor from Kiri’s hands. “Sorry,” he apologizes on a breath before bringing his lips back to yours. You moan and grind against his hard cock still hiding from you in his shorts. 

“Don’t be,” you breathe when he pulls away to focus on taking your bra off. He smiles at you right before the clasp comes undone and your breasts are revealed to the chilly room. 

“Wow…” he breathes, his hands resting just below the swell of your chest. Your nipples harden from the cool air and the pair of eyes staring you down. 

You do a double take when you realize that Bakugou has moved since you last looked at him. He’s now standing off to the side, hand shoved down his joggers. You can’t see his dick either, but you can see the way his hand is slowly pumping his shaft. You lick your lips as you watch, realizing he must’ve moved to get a better view of the show. 

“Well, don’t stop there. Fuck her,” comes Bakugou’s deep voice that seems to be even deeper than it was before. Kiri sharply inhales as he nods his head, reaching between you two to tug his shorts and boxers down in one go. You whine when you see his pretty cock, unashamedly eyeing it up. 

He’s clean-shaven and the tip of his dick is a pretty red color, looking a little swollen and weepy from how turned on he is. He’s easily six inches, possibly longer.

You don’t really have time to admire it since he’s rubbing the head against your entrance, rubbing your wetness up towards your clit before going back down. “You touched yourself, didn’t you?” he whispers, seemingly already out of breath before you’ve even started. You look away from his mesmerizing cock to look up at him. 

“What?” you ask, almost missing what he said entirely. You still caught it though, but you’re surprised he asked you such a question. 

“Your hole…it’s already stretched out…” he says a little louder than before, maybe keeping Bakugou up to speed with what’s going on. 

“No…” you lie, trying so hard not to stutter. You cry out when Bakugou is suddenly by both of your sides, grabbing your hair and yanking your head back. 

“Oh, you little slut.” You whimper at the name, your back arching off the locker for a moment. 

“I bet you were thinking about us. Weren’t you, you pretty little whore,” Bakugou coos, hand still fisted around your hair. 

“Yes, I was,” you admit breathily. You smirk though as you turn your head to look at Bakugou head-on. “And what are you going to do about it?” you taunt. He seems to be thinking it over, but he doesn’t get to do anything since Kiri takes the initiative. 

He starts inching himself into your cunt, your eyes rolling back into your head at how full you feel once he comes to a stop. “Good boy, Eijirou,” Bakugou mumbles, licking his lips as he watches Kiri push his length all the way inside of you until he can’t fit anymore. 

Kirishima whimpers at the praise, tightly gripping your hips as he starts thrusting in and out of your crying pussy. You moan and grasp his upper arm with one hand while the other rests on Bakugou’s shoulder for support. 

Your gaze floats up to the ceiling, your eyes struggling to stay open as Kiri thrusts in and out of your gaping pussy. You gasp when Bakugou’s grip on your hair suddenly tightens before he’s forcing your head down. Your eyes instantly find Kirishima’s pretty cock disappearing into your pussy before reappearing wetter than it was before. You moan at the sight, your hole clenching around the man fervently fucking you. 

“Watch him as he fucks you. You should be more appreciative,” Bakugou chastises, keeping your head held forward to make sure you stay watching Kirishima. You scream in ecstasy as your body shivers in pleasure, your cunt gushing around Kirishima as you cum. “Dirty slut,” Bakugou mumbles as if he’s disappointed or disapproving over this fact. In reality, though, he’s eating it up. 

Kirishima cums shortly after you do, pulling out just in time to coat your stomach and thighs in ropes of white. It’s not even a minute later when Bakugou is letting go of your hair and manhandling you out of Kirishima’s hold and into his own. You blink wearily at him before looking down, finding his joggers are already on the floor. 

His dick is around the same size as Kirishima, possibly a little bigger. His cock though is covered in bulging veins and the head is more on the purple side while Kiri’s was pinker. His tip is just as weepy as Kiri’s was though. 

You scream when he forces himself into your sensitive pussy in one go. You claw at his back, his entire body being pressed flush against yours. He doesn’t hesitate for a beat before starting to thoroughly fuck into you. 

You moan and mewl with each thrust, your head resting on your arm that’s wrapped around his neck. You stare at Kirishima as Bakugou roughly rails into you, watching as the younger man slowly sits down on the bench. His cock twitches in interest as he watches his best friend have his way with you. 

“You like being treated like a common whore? Hm?” Bakugou asks. He pulls you away from the lockers, his hands cupping your ass to keep you up on his bulging cock. You pull back with a moan, desperately nodding your head as he bounces you up and down his throbbing dick. 

“Yeah?” he asks, bringing one hand away from your ass only to bring it back down in a harsh slap. You shout his name as you throw your head back, placing your hands onto his shoulders as you help him thrust you up and down. “You like being my personal sex toy that I can use how I please?” he taunts. You nod your head rapidly, your eyes rolling back into your head as you clench around him. 

“Little slut gonna cum again already?” he taunts, moving you up and down faster. You scream his name as you do just that, causing a circle of white to appear around the base of his cock. “Look at you…creaming all over my fat cock…” he taunts. His voice sounds a little shakier though as he throbs inside of your tight cunt. Guess he’s getting close too. 

After a few more pumps, he rushedly pulls out just as he starts to orgasm. He points his cock right at your used pussy, shooting his seed all over your wet cunt. He smirks as he watches his cum join Kiri’s, his chest rising and falling rapidly. 

He slowly puts you down, laughing when you cling onto him as your legs shake. “Hope I didn’t break you,” he teases, watching you lean back against the lockers as you try to come down from your high and get ahold of your bearings. 

“Fuck you,” you snap lowly, tilting your head back to look up at the heavens, hoping this will help you calm down faster if you can’t see them. 

“I just did,” he jokes, making you groan and Kiri chuckle lightly. Kiri suddenly appears in your field of vision. You bring your gaze down to look at him, smiling at him when he seems sheepish now. 

“Sorry about your underwear. I kinda just got lost in the moment…” 

You giggle as you bring a hand to the back of his head and pull him down for a kiss. “Don’t worry about it. It was hot,” you reassure. He grins at this, loosely wrapping his arms around you for a hug. 

You look over at Bakugou to find him pulling his joggers back on. Your attention returns to Kiri though as he suddenly swoops you up into his arms princess style. “What are you doing?” you ask, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“We dirtied you-” he stops when Bakugou snorts and says something along the lines of ‘yeah we did.’ He rolls his eyes as he brings you to the showers, slowly setting you down and turning the hot water on. “It’s the least I can do to clean you up,” he says softly and you swear you’ve never felt so warm and fuzzy inside until this very moment. 

“Awe, what a gentleman,” you coo, giving him another kiss. “Too bad they can’t all be like you,” she jokes pointedly giving Bakugou a look. He scoffs and comes over to the shower you two were occupying. 

“Hey, he cleans you up, I make you food,” he offers with a shrug, crossing his arms over his chest. You hum as you think about it, putting your hand out to feel the water’s temperature. 

“Fine. You both have to cuddle me too.” 

“Okay!” Kiri says with a happy grin at the same time Bakugou rolls his eyes and grunts out, “Fine.” As if the fucker isn’t excited too. 

You smile and give them each a sweet kiss. “It’s a date then,” you declare with a wink. 

Kiri helps you clean yourself off before drying you off, in which Bakugou then helps you get dressed again. Once that was all done, you sigh and sit down on one of the many benches. 

“Now what? We’re still stuck here until the morning,” you sigh. When you don’t get a response, you look up at your two best friends, who are possibly more now. 

“We should be able to get out through a window…” Kiri says softly. You stand up at this, placing your hands onto your hips as you raise a brow at them. 

“But I thought you sai-”

“I lied.” Your jaw is once again unhinging as you stare at Bakugou in shock. You then scoff, laughing a little as you hit his chest. “You think you’re so clever.” 

“Yeah, a little,” he agrees with a shrug. You roll your eyes as you leave the locker room and head for one of the many windows in the place. 

“Jerk.” 

“Besides, even if an alarm did go off, we’re all heroes. They know we wouldn’t break into a place. We’d just explain it was a misunderstanding!” Kiri says confidently. You hum as you study the window before pulling it open. 

No alarms go off. 

“Oh, I am so getting you back for this,” you swear as you point at Bakugou with squinted eyes. He just gives you a sleezy grin. 

“I can’t wait.”

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MASTERLIST

More with Bakugou and Kiri

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Special thanks to @spicygremli-n​ and @iris-archives​ for being my super sexy beta readers 

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⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

[snackhobi]

min yoongi is the best shot in the business. you’re the best gunsmith in the city and the only person he trusts to programme his tech; to make his gear. 

he likes your work. it’s a shame, then, that he doesn’t like you.

pairing: yoongi x f!reader / word count: 14.3k / genre + rating: NSFW (18+), cyberpunk!au, smut, frenemies (?) to lovers

warnings/etc: hitman!yoongi. black market dealer/gunsmith!reader. cursing/explicit language. whole lotta tension, sexual and otherwise. mentions of injury/violence. minor character death (no one important, don’t worry, this isn’t an angst fic). brief hurt/comfort. reader has tattoos. sexually explicit content. oral; fingering; multiple orgasms; overstimulation (f). unprotected sex (please take the necessary precautions irl). rough sex?. choking. creampie. brief mention of aftercare. I think that’s everything but please lmk if I missed any!

a/n: thank you SO MUCH to both @hobi-gif​ and @morndas​ for beta reading this and being so supportive, ily both so much and I owe you my life 🤧💕 as always what was meant to be a short fic turned into a huge one. also this is technically for my 1.1k milestone but it’s a billion years late, oops!​

Yoongi really doesn’t like you.

You’re loud. Cocky. Arrogant. You needle him all the time, dig your fingernails in and squeeze, revelling in the way he sets his jaw, the muted spark of irritation in his eyes. You bat your eyelashes and tilt your head, throw it back whenever you laugh and reveal the easing column of your throat, dragging each interaction out with a kind of sadistic pleasure that has him gritting his teeth. Because you love annoying him, getting under his skin, tapping your fingers against the soft swell of your bottom lip as you eye him up, taking your time before you speak.

Infuriating. You’re infuriating and you know it.

It’s unfortunate, really, because you’re unavoidable. 

Jungkook had asked, once, why Yoongi doesn’t just go elsewhere. They’re more than familiar with the underbelly of this heaving city, underneath all the neon lights and shimmering holograms and towering skyscrapers and legal tech; the scuttling seams of back alley traders and illegal goods, tech or otherwise. There are plenty of black market dealers, after all, plenty of other vendors he could go to to get the equipment he wants. Plenty of other skilled crafters, artificers, artisans, people who would be more than happy to create the things that Yoongi asks for, that he needs. People who can get their hands on anything you want. For a price.

Yoongi’s answer had been short and succinct.

“She’s the best there is,” he’d said, and that had been that.

Because it’s true. You might be exasperating, maddening, laughing in Yoongi’s face where others might cower or genuflect, but no one is as good as you. All of Yoongi’s gear has been crafted by you; each and every single one of his weapons, his tech, the headpiece that fits so perfectly around the back of his skull that Yoongi often forgets that it’s there, hidden in his hair, unfolding across his eyes whenever he lines up a shot to make the kill—there’s evidence of your work across every inch of his body, hidden away under his clothes, day in, day out. Even when he’s not on a contract Yoongi never leaves anything to chance. 

(A walking armoury, Namjoon had called him once.)

(You’d phrased it differently.

You’re always packing, hmm? you’d hummed, rapping your fingernails in a steady beat as you’d leaned back in your chair, smiling with teeth. There was laughter in your words and your gaze, no attempt made to hide your amusement, but after your goading you’d made him a collapsible sword anyway. It’s a beautiful thing, this folding blade, bristling with plasma and energy if Yoongi needs it, lethal and deadly. One of his most prized possessions, something that’s gotten him out of multiple corners, and he owes it—you—his life.)

There’s no one on par with you. You’re a Renaissance woman, a fiercely talented polymath who doesn’t need to rely on anyone else to create the things you create. Low-tech, high-tech, no tech—you make everything from scratch, programme things yourself, hunched over each project in your own workshop with nothing but your mind and your own two hands.

It’s the only reason he puts up with you and your antics, the sharp jibes, the shameless flirting; you’re the most infuriating person he knows, but there’s no one else he would trust with the work that you do.

Unfortunately.

Which is why Yoongi finds himself here, again and again, as familiar with this studio as you are—he watches you work, sometimes, watches you sketch up blueprints and drag your fingers across your array of displays, your world cast in shifting shades of cyan and electric blue from all the tech in here, humming and alive. He likes to see how his equipment is made, after all. It can mean the difference between life and death. He takes this seriously.

It’s the one time you might be quiet. Might be quiet, because you still talk even when you work; flick your gaze between Yoongi and whatever’s set in front of you, that ever present smile spread across your lips, smug and amused. You’re only silent during the hardest jobs. Like right now, you’re intense and focused, a furrow dug between your brows as you survey his sniper rifle—almost shorn in two. (It had been the only thing to hand when he’d had to block a blow from a guard he’d somehow overlooked, no time to draw any other weapons before they’d started to brawl.)

You’d been unimpressed. You’d raised your eyebrows with all the severity of a disappointed mother, bitten words out at him with molten snideness, dripping heat and snark.

“It’s a gun, Yoongi. A gun. You know, something you shoot with? Pew pew? Blammo? I’m not sure what sort of shields and body armour you’ve seen in the past but this isn’t either of those things. Do you want me to sketch some diagrams up for you? Or maybe I could write you a book. Baby’s First Arsenal, Chapter One: The Difference Between Things That Are Guns And Things That Aren’t. Would that be helpful?”

No one else talks to Yoongi like that. No one else would dare. It’s only a rare few that know his birth name and it’s not often that he hears it, more used to the sound of Agust D falling off people’s lips. But that had been part of your price, part of the agreement when he’d first met you and asked for your services: his real name.

Yoongi had let it wash over him, had endured your tongue-lashing before putting the gun down with a heavy finality and thrust it over at you, tired of all your talk.

“Just fix it,” he’d demanded.

You’d laughed in his face.

“As always, your bedside manner leaves something to be desired,” you’d said, taking the rifle from him.

The D-2 Shadow isn’t just a weapon. It’s a piece of art, clean edges and slick lines, and Yoongi is grateful to have it back in his hands. There’s no other sniper rifle like it, made of super lightweight alloy and easy to handle; thermal scope, enhanced stabilisers for accuracy; superior kinetic coils for better shot penetration. Yoongi had asked for the best and you’d delivered. Gone above and beyond, crafted a weapon the likes of which no one else possesses, modified in ways other people can’t even fathom.

And you’d fixed it when he'd almost let it get destroyed. Made it better than new, even, layered it in more alloy to make it stronger without making it heavier, a new material of your own design. If he hadn’t known you as well as he does he’d have worried that it was beyond repair, knows that other gunsmiths would have taken one look at its crumpled body and shaken their heads, but you hadn’t. 

Of course you hadn’t. You never do.

You charge him a pretty penny for your work, make him pay through the nose for everything he asks of you, but Yoongi is more than willing to do so. More than capable of paying, coffers lined with more money than he might need, one of the best contract killers there is—the real price he pays is with his sanity, worn away each time you open your mouth. He can’t help but rise to your bait, as derisive as you are; it’s only the smallest things, a sharpness to his otherwise even tone, an angry spark in his eyes, but you pick up on it all.

He’s not your only customer. You don’t extend your services to many, only to the people you want to—Yoongi’s not sure what set of harebrained criteria you have that lets you choose who you’ll sell to and who you won’t but he can’t make heads nor tails of it. He knows he’s not part of your clientele because he’s got the credits to pay, nor is it because he’s one of the most highly regarded hitmen in his line of business. 

You don’t just choose people who can afford to pay or people who have a level of power and influence in this dark underworld you inhabit. You really don’t care about those things. You just pick and choose on a whim.

(Once, back when he’d first met you, Yoongi had discovered that you’d concocted an entirely new security system—practically incapable of being hacked, crawling with tech, a level of complexity even the richest elites could barely afford—for some small artist who’d worried that their paintings might get stolen. He was an unknown at the time, this V, squirrelled away in one of the dark corners in the lowest levels of the city, and you’d all but given him some of the best work you’d ever done, undercharged him something chronic.

You’d shrugged when Yoongi had asked why.

“He makes me laugh,” you’d replied.)

Yoongi isn’t your only customer but he’s certainly the only one you seem to treat the way you do. There’s a level of irreverence in everything you do, self-confidence settled across every inch of you like the obnoxious stench of a teenage boy’s body spray, but you seem to take particular pleasure in Yoongi’s displeasure. He’d brought Namjoon along, once, inquiring after an imitation greenhouse, how someone might set up the tech to raise tropical plants that wouldn’t survive otherwise (mostly above board, even; Namjoon might grow illicit plants, poisonous and prohibited, but he likes pretty flowers, too). And there had been none of the mocking that Yoongi receives. None of the wind ups. You’d been pleasant, despite your incessant snark, agreeing to take the job with a smile on your face that Yoongi never gets given.

(It had been infuriating, to know that you’re capable of not being an ass, but you just choose not to be. For fun.)

Yoongi really, really doesn’t like you, but he respects your work. Respects you, even if he’d never admit it out loud.

You keep your word. You don’t supply his competitors, although you claim it’s not loyalty to him and it’s only because they can’t pay as well as he does—winnings go to the highest bidder, you’d said sagely, as obtuse and irritating as always. 

But Yoongi knows other sellers will provide anyone who’s willing to pay, freelancers who peddle their wares regardless of affiliation or alliances. You’re beholden to no one and yet Yoongi knows you would never double cross him. Never supply anyone who challenges his work, even if they have the money, even if he’s on good terms with them (it’s not personal, it’s business; Yoongi has no issue with other hired killers as long as they stay out of his way). He knows he can rely on you, which is something to be treasured in these back-crossing back-stabbing backstreets.

So when he makes his way to your door, the details of a new contract still fresh in his mind, he instantly comes to a stop.

There’s something off. He can tell immediately, years of instinct causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise, every part of him on edge. Everything looks normal, is normal, but there’s a burning in his gut that has Yoongi’s finger itching for the trigger even though there’s nothing to shoot. 

You’ve granted him the privilege of access to your workshop, to the other rooms, entered the scans of his hand and eye and voice into the security systems, keep him updated on the varying passwords you cycle through, so he can enter whenever he needs to. 

(He’s woken you up on more than one occasion, roused you from sleep for last minute supplies before he leaves for another contract, appearing in the dead of night like a spectre of death, clothing dark and eyes darker, overflowing with weaponry. A looming silhouette edged in strokes of cyan and magenta from the ever present, low-level neon light in your room, so much darker than the bright lights of your workshop. Intimidating. 

And you always just roll your eyes and sigh and tell him to keep a better eye on his cache of equipment and climb out of bed for him. You’re so at odds to him in your sleep rumpled clothing and mussed hair, still unafraid even when he’s fully geared and ready to kill; shirt slipping off your shoulder, swathes of bare skin in the place of Yoongi's all-encompassing outfit, shimmering black light tattoos visible on your legs and arms and bare skin of your collarbones, geometric lines in the palest of blues and greens. You hand over whatever he needs and tell him the creds he owes you.

“I’ve already given you a key to my apartment and you haven’t even taken me for dinner once,” you sigh—dramatic and melodramatic—even as you hand over a bundle of crossbow bolts. The synthesised toxin inside the darts is your own concoction, of course, courtesy of the plant matter provided from Namjoon’s greenhouse.

“I’d literally rather be shot in the head than willingly spend time with you,” he replies.

“You wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid,” you say, and just laugh in the face of his unimpressed deadpan. As insufferable as always.)

So he doesn’t need your permission to enter. He’s silent, light-footed as he makes his way inside, scanning each inch of this familiar interior; nothing’s wrong, not yet, but Yoongi can sense something in the air. Something heavy, settled bitter on his tongue, coating the back of his throat.

And then he walks into your workshop.

You’re meticulous. Even when you’re overrun with gear, with parts that have yet to be used, everything has its place. You prefer paper over datapads, too, tack sheets of designs and notes up on the wall, have clipboards and stacks of sheets set neatly in their place, a throwback to a time before tech ruled everything. Yoongi knows the layout of this room as well as he knows his own home, a mental map of straight lines and unwavering coordinates with you in the centre of it all.

Upheaval. Those neat lines of organised cartography have been pulled apart. Ham-handed work, to be sure, more of a statement than anything else; intent to instil fear rather than to destroy (although, Yoongi sees now that one of the monitors has been smashed, display sparking white and blue as it bleeds out electricity.). Even in the darkness of the room—overhead lights off and only emergency lighting on, painting things in shades of dark crimson and pink—Yoongi can tell that whichever interlopers have done this are already gone. The room is empty.

Then the sound of a clatter breaks the silence and Yoongi’s already got his pistol out, drawn without a thought as he approaches the sound that comes from the back room, fleet-footed and silent as he raises the gun and rounds the corner—

And sees you at the end of the barrel.

There’s a first aid kit on the floor. Packs of medi-gel and rolls of bandages and other supplies scattered around your feet. You haven’t even spotted Yoongi yet, in despair at the mess in front of you; he’s never seen you like this, never seen anything other than your veneer of enraging smugness and never-ending energy.

“Y/n?” 

You flinch even as your head snaps around, eyes wide—but the second you see Yoongi you visibly relax, even though he’s still holding a gun in your direction.

There’s a bruise blossoming across your left cheek.

“Ah, Yoongi.” The smile that paints itself across your lips is almost convincing despite the dark flower that’s unfolding on your skin, blood rising to the surface and painting it in hues of pain; you wince, a little, when the smile makes your wound ache. Soldier onwards as you act as though nothing is wrong. “I know you’re always desperate for my attention but do you mind giving me a second? I’m kind of indisposed at the moment.”

Yoongi’s lips are set in a thin line. He only has one question on his mind.

“Who did this to you?”

Your gaze flickers before you break eye contact, staring at the first aid supplies on the floor. “What, this? Have you never dropped something before?”

Yoongi ignores your deflection. It only takes a few moments to reholster the pistol, to step over to you, to grasp your chin and tilt your face towards him.

“Who did this to you?”

Yoongi’s tone is quiet and low, firm and undeniable. For the first time since he’s met you it seems as though you’re lost for words, lips parted around a silent sound of surprise as you’re subjected to the full force of Yoongi’s gaze, cutting through you; past every layer of self-inflated narcissism you put on, past every deflection you might make.

There's a beat of silence.

And then you slowly but irrevocably fold underneath the weight of his stare.

You let him lead you, sit you down, bowing to his hands and his directions. You’re silent throughout, lips an unfamiliar shape as they’re pulled down into the slightest of frowns. He’s only ever seen you smile, seen you laugh, self-assured. Never like this.

You seem surprised, startled when he sits across from you and cracks open a pack of medi-gel. Yoongi’s surprised too, although he doesn’t show it, lets his instincts take over and settles into auto-pilot as he reaches for your face. He’s never seen your eyes so round, so wide, watching the hand that descends on your cheek with all the single-minded intent of a man about to fillet a fish—careful and practiced but menacing, maybe. (He doesn’t like you but you don’t deserve to have been hurt and Yoongi can’t just stand by and not help.)

And you don’t shy away. You stare at him as he stares at his fingers, layers the gel evenly across the pain of your bruise, cool and soothing.

It’s only when he’s reached for more medi-gel and touched your cheek for the second time that you finally speak.

“It was one of the Tang cousins.”

Yoongi goes still, fingers resting across your skin, slick with purple gel. 

“One of the cousins?”

Yoongi doesn’t like you. But—and God knows what he did wrong in a previous life for this to be true—you’re one of his inner circle, one of the very, very few people he trusts. You’re not friends and he doesn’t like you, but he owes you, owes you a hundred times over, owes you for every successful kill, every silent infiltration, every averted detection. All thanks to your tech and the work you put into it for him. He’s indebted to you.

Yoongi always pays his debts.

“I didn’t even catch his name.” You sound dismissive. Normally you’d laugh, deride the person you’re speaking about, but instead you just sound tired. “One of the low down ones. New kid on the block; someone I didn’t recognise, with some lackeys or similar. Trying to make a name for himself, I think. He demanded that I build weapons for him. I said no.”

The Tang family is a big one, a criminal empire that has its tendrils dug in everywhere. You don’t deal with them, have no interest throwing your lot in with them intentionally or not; it’s a big, formidable family, but it’s not the only one around. You’d be dumb to get involved in that mess of generational, cross-family conflict. You’ll sell things to the highest bidder, shift illicit high-tech stock, build generic modifications that people can buy—but you don’t make bespoke weaponry for just anyone.

You don’t even sell to the heads of the Tang family directly, let alone to some back-alley sewer rat who probably barely has the faintest ties to the family, a single vein of Tang blood in his body, just enough to give him an in.

Whoever this cousin was he must be really fucking stupid to not know that. Stupid to think he could demand anything from you. Stupid to think he could hurt you when you laughed in his face and said no. Anyone with half a brain-cell should know not to fuck with you, know that it’s an honour to even be allowed inside your workshop, that to be told ‘no’ by you is a privilege.

Stupid to think that he wasn’t going to pay for that stupidity.

The pack of medi-gel is empty, the deflated pouch forgotten on Yoongi’s knee as he stares at you. The flecks of biomatter in the gel catch the light, sparkling like glitter in the lavender that’s seeping into your skin; all the surprise is gone from your eyes and instead you’re just watching him, stolid and steady. Analytical.

(You’re smart. Yoongi knows you are. For all that you talk shit and play foolish, he never forgets about that fierce intelligence. Never underestimates you or how perceptive you are. He only wonders what’s on your mind right now; what it is that you see in front of you.)

“Next time don’t let someone in unless you’re certain you’re going to sell to them.”

You scoff in his face. “Alright, Dad. Do you want to update my curfew while you’re at it? Make it ten p.m. instead of eleven?”

Yoongi blinks slowly. You’ve got both eyebrows raised, surveying him with a mixture of amusement and disbelief that he’s trying to tell you what to do (because no one tells you what to do; they wouldn't dare). But you don’t pull away, your knees still touching his, body bowed towards him from when he’d coaxed you closer so he could reach your face—so he knows you don’t mind. Not really.

(Knows you don’t care about anyone’s opinions or rules, only sticking to your own. The fact you’d been shaken from that place of confidence by some thug—even for a moment—doesn’t sit right in Yoongi’s belly. That bitter taste is back in his throat and it’s ice cold, icicles prickling through his blood.)

(He doesn’t like you but you’re one of his people and no one fucks with Yoongi’s people.)

The bruise is still there days later, after you’ve rearranged your workshop back to the way it was, sourced a new monitor to replace the one that was broken. You’re back to smirking, already ready for his request, more bullets for his weapons and super-charged plasma to recharge his sword, but the bruise is a stark reminder of what you’ve been through. So is, too, the new blueprint he spies half finished on your open displays: an automated security system that scans thermal signatures, guns unfolding from the ceiling whenever aggressive movement is detected from an unfamiliar person. Anyone who’s not listed as familiar in the security logs. 

(Yoongi used to wonder about that. Why you didn’t have security mechs set in place, programming their AI to protect you, but you don’t like to use mechs. Don’t like to use them, even if you could afford to build them, because you compare it to forced servitude. You’ve never needed them before now, anyway. Safe in your reputation, knowing that you’re in a position of power, that people come here because they know you’re the best of the best.)

(But it seems like you don’t trust that any more. Don’t feel safe.)

Yoongi keeps as silent as always, bites his tongue when you cut him off mid-sentence with nothing more than a raised finger.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you tut, wagging the finger back and forth like the slow pendulum of a grandfather clock. “No more crafting requests. I’m still working on the concentration mod you asked for and I’ll let you know when it’s ready. I don't rush for anyone. Patience is a virtue, baby. Did no one ever tell you that?”

“Don’t call me baby.”

“Okay, handsome.” Your reply is instant, unruffled, and Yoongi grits his teeth. 

But still. For all that you’re acting like normal, workshop set back into place, white lighting shining overhead, as neat and presentable as always—Yoongi can read uncertainty in the way you move. Discomfort. You don’t feel safe in your own space and it’s obvious, even if you don’t realise it.

“Come back any time,” you say coyly, and Yoongi, as always, ignores you. Transfers the creds he owes you in silence before he takes one last look at the bruise that’s still painted across your skin, dark eyes touching yours for the briefest moment before he turns and leaves.

For the first time since you met, Yoongi buys from someone who isn’t you.

It’s not bad. Well made, decent tech, Predator pistol sitting easy in his hands when he brings it to the light and watches it unfold from its holstered state, the way plasma bursts to life in the barrel; weaker than bullets but easier to reload in the field. It’s no surprise that the Yeom family gets their stuff sourced from here. The body armour, too, isn’t bad, engraved with the family crest and cast in their colours.

It’s not bad, but it’s not as good as it could be. Not as good as Yoongi needs his tech to be, demands it to be—but quality doesn’t matter. Not today. He has a job to do.

It’s easy to find his mark. Scum gathers in stagnant water, in the dirtiest and dankest places, and this is where Yoongi finds Tang Lee. Finds him spilling beer and money in the backroom of some grimy strip club where the holograms flicker from age and the strippers are tired, trying their best to scrape a living from the seething riverbed of filth that runs underneath the bright neon lights of the skyscrapers in the levels above.

Lee isn’t alone but it’s so easy to take them out it’s laughable, men drunk from cheap alcohol; Yoongi catches one in a chokehold, smashes another’s face into the glass table with enough force it shatters, faces Lee once they’re the only two standing. The music outside is too loud and the room is sound proofed for privacy and so Yoongi isn’t interrupted as he brings Lee to his knees, thrusting his face into a smear of blood that drips from his now-broken nose, courtesy of a quick jab of Yoongi’s right fist.

It’s not a quick kill. It could be. Yoongi could have ended this in moments, caught Lee off guard and ended his miserable life almost effortlessly—but he doesn’t. He takes his time, makes it count, teaches him a lesson, has Lee on his hands and knees as he sobs out apologies and snivels for mercy before he takes the pistol and blows his brains out. Yoongi doesn’t feel sorry for the man, eyes the body impassively, not even worth his disgust—he only feels sorry for whoever finds the chaos of the room and the bodies inside, the distinct plasma burns he purposefully leaves in the wall with the Predator pistol, the entire scene he’s created here: a scuffle gone wrong, fast.

You’re not the only person Tang Lee has crossed but you’ll be the last. Yoongi checks the pulses of the other two men, finds one dead and the other still alive, barely, just like he’d planned—and his work is done. It’s the Yeom family’s problem now, any fall out from Lee’s death pointed at them, a repayment of a slight Lee had made to a Yeom supplier only a few weeks ago. (Yoongi wagers that neither family will care, will draw a veil over this moment and let this settle without raising arms, no one important enough to go to war over.)

He discards the pistol and armour once he’s done, incinerates it all, no interest in keeping subpar equipment. It’s not even worth dismantling for parts. Hoseok finds him in their basement, eyeing the blue flames that lick their way around the discarded armaments; he just watches Yoongi, inscrutable and calm as he eyes the blood on the clothing before it bursts into flames.

“Not a contract,” Hoseok says. (It’s not a question.)

“A job.” Yoongi replies, watches the cloth turn to ash through the thrumming display of the incinerator. “Something that needed to be done.”

He doesn’t tell anyone what he’s done. There’s no point in it. Yoongi decides something needs to be done and he’ll do it, whether that’s building a new chair for Jungkook after he broke his old one or killing a man who hurt you.

The next time he sees you your bruise is practically gone, faded into your skin. You’re intent on something on a monitor but when you notice him you turn, swivelling in your chair in one smooth motion as you lean back and put your hands behind your head, cross one leg over the other, dripping self-satisfaction, your smile sharp and full of teeth.

“Ah, Yoongi.” You look so smug that Yoongi has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. “Welcome, once again, to my laboratory. Is this visit for business or pleasure? Either way, you know I'm happy to oblige.”

“I’m here for the mod you promised me,” he says bluntly, and you just keep smiling, even as you hold out a hand for the sniper rifle, handling the D-2 Shadow with as much reverence as Yoongi does as you affix the mod.

It’s perfect, of course. All that Yoongi asked for and more. The software links with his eyepiece, biometric sensors that help him find his target, software to adjust to his pulse and breathing.

“You can even change the colour of the HUD,” you say, as if it’s some sort of buy-one-get-one-free offer, some fun little feature, rather than another helpful piece of software that you’ve created. Dismissive. An afterthought.

(You act like you take nothing seriously. Yoongi is your stark opposite, weighing everything in his hands and treating it with the level of attention it deserves, intent and focused.)

He’s staring down the scope when you speak once more. Light and easy, for once, rather than loud with your usual exaggerated exuberance or silken with unnecessary suggestiveness.

“I hear that they found a Tang family member dead.”

Yoongi just hums in response. Keeps his eye on the scope, wills the colour from dark green to white using the affinity link he has synced with his headpiece, watches the lines of the heads up display of the scope repaint themselves without even a single flicker, transition smooth and effortless. (Perfection.)

“It seems like the Yeom family did it,” you say, tone still conversational.

“Is that so.” Yoongi sounds disinterested, face impassive as he draws the gun away from his face, eye piece automatically folding away from his eyes. “Can I ask about other mods now that this one is finished?”

One of your brows rises, a perfect curve of discontent. “Say thank you first, Yoongi.”

Yoongi’s eyes cut into yours but you don’t back down, watch his blank face as he eventually says: “Thank you. Now I need more mods.”

You throw your head back as you laugh. “You’re insatiable,” you say, but you don’t say no. “What do you want now?”

(It’s not that you never say no to Yoongi. Because you have, and you do, and you will. But never because you can’t make what he asks for—and only because you refuse to make things that might endanger his safety, illicit bio-mods that other hired hitmen use, things that degrade the body from the inside out.)

Yoongi’s just holstered the Shadow, ready to go, when you speak one final time.

“Yoongi?”

He’s never heard you say his name like that, soft and quiet.

“Thanks.” You’re staring at him, regarding him steadily, solemn in a way that he’s never seen. You’re smiling, as always, but the expression is lightyears away from what Yoongi is used to—just the barest hint of an upturn to your lips.

Yoongi stares back at you. “I don’t know what you’re thanking me for.”

Your smile grows, a warm thing, unfurling like a flower. Almost affectionate. “Sure,” you say. “Of course. Silly me. Slip of the tongue.” And then, as if your brain’s only just caught up with what you just said, the smile turns salacious. “On the note of slipping the tongue—”

“Bye.”

Your cascading laughter follows him on his way out, cutting and shining with amusement. 

Yoongi’s been getting more contracts. He’s finally buckled under Jungkook’s insistent whining and has agreed to get gear for him, too, to train him how to shoot. Hoseok has more than enough contacts in the underworld to get jobs for them both—he’s the most powerful information broker around, after all, sitting in the centre of a web he’s woven after years of work, all that sharpness and darkness hidden behind his deceptively bright smile.

(Yoongi’s lucky to consider him a friend and not an enemy.)

So that’s why he’s here with increasing frequency. That’s why he finds himself at your door more often than not. To get those orders in place, to make sure they’re progressing as fast as they need to.

You never react when Yoongi steps into your workshop. Well, you do, you lean into your hand and smirk at him, pursing your lips around each snide remark, each suggestive comment—but you never question his appearance. You just go with the flow, unbothered by his presence, even when there are other people there—other customers who eye him with unveiled curiosity and confusion (some Yoongi recognises, some he doesn’t, well-known faces and unknowns alike; none of them know who he is, though, unrecognisable as Agust D without his battle gear on). Yoongi keeps a close eye on their stances, any unchecked aggression or hostility towards you. Keeps a watch on the tension of your shoulders and spine, because of… habit. Battle instinct. Nothing else.

“You know my policy, Yoongi.” You’re analysing something in your hand. It looks like an antique spyglass, something from the decades before technology overtook the world, but it’s jammed full of tech; it doesn’t just magnify to a terrifying degree, it also amplifies sound, connected to an earpiece that’s sleek and easy to overlook. ‘A small project’, you’d called it, as if it isn’t something that people would pay a fortune to own. “If I’m making something for someone I have to meet them first. If you want me to make anything for this ‘JK’ then it’s not happening until you bring him here. Just like with your friend RM.”

Yoongi is lolling by your monitors, half-asleep in your chair (which had moulded to the shape of his body the second he sat in it, designed to be too comfortable for its own good). 

“I know you can’t pull yourself away from me,” you continue, glancing up from the scope. “But you have to spend time with your friends sometimes. I know they’re not as pleasing to look at as me—”

“Stop.”

You shift the spyglass to one hand and lean your chin on the other, regarding him with sharp eyes and an amused quirk to your lips. “I love that you think you can tell me what to do.”

Yoongi resists the urge to make a noise at the back of his throat, opting to keep mum instead.

He’s too tired to argue with you. He’d come straight after a contract, blood still on the edge of his sleeves (not his), watched the way your eyebrows had risen when you’d casually taken in the state of him before offering to wash his jacket. You know the reality of this world you both inhabit, operating in the shadows, survival paid for in blood; you might not be on the high ground, lining the shot up to take the kill, but you craft the trigger that Yoongi pulls.

(You might be aware of this reality but you’re far removed from it, shaken by violence on your own door. You never should have been faced with it. You’re an inventor; a creator. Not a killer. Not like Yoongi is. He’s not going to let that happen again. He doesn’t like you but you shouldn’t have been subject to pain—shouldn’t still have your motions edged with a held breath, as if you’re waiting for it to repeat itself. 

No matter how well you hide it, Yoongi knows that there's a part of you that's still scared.)

“I know you think you’re too important to need to remember things, but we’ve worked together for long enough that you know that I’d ask to meet JK first, Yoongi,” you say. “Did you really have to come straight after murking someone just to be reminded about that? Not complaining—you know I love seeing that pretty scowl of yours—but I just figured you’d rather be resting right now. Don't tell me the infamous Agust D missed me and decided to come here instead.”

“You were on the way.”

(He’d circled around, taken a longer route, descended into the familiar maze of the lower city. To throw off the scent of any potential pursuers. You just happened to be nearby, pure coincidence and convenience.)

You retract the spyglass, collapsing it in your hands. “Either you leave right now and go to your own place to sleep, or you’re going to sleep in my bed. Your choice.”

(If Yoongi took the time to think about it, really think about it, he’d notice that the words aren’t shrouded in suggestion or insinuation. Your brows are raised and you’re looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to decide what he’s going to do—unimpressed at how tired he is, how he’s come here instead of sliding into his own bed for the rest he so clearly needs.)

Of course, Yoongi leaves. He returns home without his jacket, strips his shirt off as soon as he’s in this safe place, this base, sheds pieces of his body armour as easy as anything (you’d designed it to be lightweight and easy to don and doff, the perfect defence for someone who relied on stealth and speed); he’s just removing the last greave when Hoseok appears, rapping his knuckles against the open door.

“You’re finally back.”

Yoongi looks up. Hoseok is dressed for work, Hope Broker persona in place, tailored suit that sits perfectly with the lines of his body, handsome and stylish and entirely put together. He oozes poise and power. Elegance.

“Yeah.” Yoongi lets the greave drop, silent as it falls to the floor. “Job’s done.”

Hoseok smiles. It’s a genuine one because it’s for Yoongi. “I know,” he says, even though scarcely any time has passed since Yoongi put a bullet in the back of the target’s skull. Nothing happens in this world of theirs without Hoseok finding out about it, always sooner rather than later. “Just wanted to check in and make sure you were okay.”

“All good.” 

“Good.” Hoseok is used to Yoongi’s blunt nature, his short responses when he’s tired. “Get some sleep.”

Hoseok’s elegant even as he adjusts his cufflinks. It’s just the briefest of moments, the crisp edge of his perfectly white sleeve contrasting with the shining silver, the design inlaid in them—but Yoongi recognises that design immediately.

Because it’s yours.

It’s the same emblem on each piece of his gear, small and understated, hidden away, easy to miss—but Yoongi knows it intimately. He doesn’t say anything. Lets Hoseok leave without a word. Each one of the men that Yoongi considers family, the tiny collection of people that stay in this same home as him, know that he only gets equipment sourced from you—but Hoseok had never mentioned that he’s been in contact with you, too. 

It’s not important. Hoseok might be his friend and a staunch ally but there’s plenty that he gets up to that none of the others are privy to, trading information to the highest bidders, head of a huge network that Yoongi can use to his advantage but isn’t technically a part of. The people Hoseok deals with—buys his information and resources from, keeps perfectly balanced in comparison to his own power—is his own business and not Yoongi’s.

Yoongi moves to gather his armour, the hardsuit he wears like a second skin, and spots that insignia that he knows so well branded into it. To have Hoseok wearing it at his wrist—the Hope Broker, renowned trader of secrets—is a statement. You could have made the cufflinks plain and unadorned. But you hadn’t.

When Yoongi climbs into bed that night, he finds that his sleep is restless.

The smile on your face fades. “You know I don’t talk about business with other customers.”

Yoongi’s staring at you across your workbench, the light from its surface going dim as you take your hands off it, disassembled stun mine forgotten.

No one knows about his genuine friendship with Hoseok, but they do know that Agust D and the Hope Broker have an agreement; a professional working relationship. “I know the Hope Broker,” Yoongi says. 

Your eyebrows rise so far they seem to threaten to ascend into your hairline, you’re so incredulous. “Everyone does. What’s your point? Do you expect me to give you information about everyone you ask about? I get paid to keep people’s privacy, Yoongi. Do you think I sell the information of your equipment, how to dissemble every defence you have? Do you think I give your name out to everyone who asks?”

There’s no touch of amusement to the line of your lips, no sparkling irreverence in your eyes. You’re genuinely displeased.

“He’s wearing your symbol.”

You scoff. “You wear my symbol too. Why, are you jealous? Your armour has exactly the same technology. Better, even, because I can fit more tech in there.”

The cufflinks generate a kinetic barrier, then, a layer of invisible shielding that lays just atop Hoseok’s skin. But no one sees Yoongi’s armour; no one sees the workmanship of your weapons, no one except him. Your insignia isn’t emblazoned on his wrist for all to see.

Yoongi isn’t jealous.

“Hope is a powerful man,” you continue. “Everyone knows that. Even people who haven’t met him know that. Even people who aren’t sure he exists know that. If I want to sell to him then that’s my business.”

Everyone who’s anyone recognises your logo, no matter how rare it is to spot it (you only craft for a select few, after all). And Hoseok’s influence is far reaching and powerful; no one would dare cross him, dare to cross anyone who’s associated with him. 

“I’m looking for a new workshop.” You rise, moving away from your workbench to your monitors, touching a display with your fingers to bring it to life. Ignoring Yoongi’s presence, not even looking at him. “I haven’t got the space to modify the systems in this one as much as I want to. The walls are already full enough as it is. Do you know how hard it is to find somewhere with the specifications I need?”

Yoongi realises, then, why you’re doing this. The bruise is long gone and your skin is unmarred but you still don’t feel safe. You’ve always worked alone. Until now. Now you’re making moves to settle down, settle in, make a statement of allegiance to someone who can offer you a level of protection with their influence.

Someone who can offer you somewhere new, away from this inadequate place you’ve outgrown.

Hoseok laughs lightly when Yoongi asks about it, mentions it in passing as the two of them drink soju side by side, Hoseok in his suit and Yoongi girded in the armour under his unassuming clothes, both in the upper city for work; they stare down at the myriads of tall buildings and huge holo-boards and rainbow array of neon lights, far above the place they call home.

“Oh, yeah,” he says, utterly relaxed (and faintly amused). “I know you respect her work so I thought I’d reach out. I’m surprised she can make the things she does in that tiny workshop. You’re right; she’s very good.”

You are. The next time you meet, you give Yoongi his usual shipment and more besides, more than he’d ordered, reflected in the amount of creds he has to pay—because he won’t be able to just drop in for a while, your workshop dismantled and scraped empty in preparation for the move. Where to, he doesn’t know, but you say you’ll pass on the information once everything is up and running again.

“If you break any of your gear while I’m gone then you’re on your own,” you say. “I’m not shipping anything before my new workshop is finished.”

Two days later, Yoongi spies a new watch on Hoseok’s wrist. It looks low-tech, old style, metal strap and round clock face—but he sees the silhouette of your logo under those ticking hands and knows there’s more tech in there that meets the eye.

He looks away.

It takes a week for the message to appear, encrypted: your new location. Levels above your former workshop, one of the higher strata of the lower city—still hidden and out of the way but away from the dirt and darkness. 

Yoongi goes. He finds the door panel, scans his palm, leans forward for the light to flit across his eye, murmurs a word, watches the door slide open. He’s already programmed in. New workshop, new security system, but he’s still allowed in, still one of the people you consider familiar, trustworthy. 

(He doesn’t know of anyone else who fits that category. Has only ever seen you manually allow people inside, granting your permission each time, rather than giving them free run of the place. No one has as many complex orders as he does, he’s certain. It’s for ease and practicality’s sake.)

He’s unfamiliar with the layout of this new building, first corridor already longer than he’s used to; he pauses for a moment but then hears something, faint—your laughter. Follows that sound, makes his way forward, through polished corridors with lines of light underfoot, leading him down some stairs and towards the sound of you.

Your new workshop is beautiful. There’s enough room in here for everything, no need for a backroom: a central worktable, benches lining the walls, tech displays built in, everything edged with lighting, dark surfaces shining bright, large floor panels underfoot emitting a low glow. Your former home had been that underground workshop and a locked door to a ladder to your micro apartment up top, tiny kitchen and single bed in a small room with a shower cubicle in the corner. Yoongi already knows that this building is far, far bigger, and you have more space than you’ve ever had before; you’d never been discontent with your smaller home, comfort from familiarity, until that comfort had been stripped from you.

You’re smiling. The snark woven into your words that Yoongi is used to is muted, light comment falling from your lips as you sit on that central table, perched on its edge. And Hoseok, he laughs, grinning so widely his teeth are on show—he’s wearing a suit but his jacket is resting on his shoulders, tie undone and cast around his neck. A stance of relaxation, one Yoongi’s never seen from him, not when he’s working. Not when he’s The Hope Broker and not Hoseok.

He’s still smiling when he notices Yoongi, the two of you looking over when the hitman speaks.

“Didn’t expect to see you here, Hoseok.”

That ever-present smirk freezes on your face for a split second, eyes widening at the sound of Hope’s real name. Hoseok just takes it in stride, his smile not dimming even for a second.

“Hey, Yoongi.” His greeting is as warm as it always is. “Just checking in. Have to make sure everything is up to scratch. What’s the verdict?”

You’ve hidden your surprise, wiped it off your face, eyes on Hoseok as you answer him. “It’s perfect.” A pause. “I take it you two know each other?”

“Sure. Yoongi is an old friend of mine.” Hoseok is still smiling, looking at Yoongi with creased eyes. Unafraid of revealing this information to you, still at ease despite the tension that’s bubbling in the air, Yoongi’s impassive face. Hoseok is always an unshaken pillar of positivity. “I didn’t realise he was coming. Am I interrupting an appointment?”

You stare at Yoongi. “No, you’re not. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

(You’d sent the message less than an hour ago. Yoongi had taken one look at the address, memorised it, pulled on his jacket and headed out; clearly you hadn’t anticipated how fast his arrival would be.)

“A happy coincidence, then.” Hoseok sounds like he genuinely means it, is pleased to see Yoongi here, his smile unwavering. There’s a languid set to his body, the easing line of his spine, hands in his pockets. A glittering in his eyes. (No one ever gets the drop on Hoseok, never surprises him, catches him off guard, no matter what they do.) “But I’ll let you conduct your business and we can catch up another time.”

He takes a hand out of his pocket as he walks past Yoongi, pats his shoulder amicably. His palm is relaxed against the tense set of Yoongi’s shoulders before he ascends the stairs and disappears out of sight, the sound of his polished shoes fading until he’s gone, one of the monitors on the wall flickering to indicate the front door is shut once more.

You’re still staring at Yoongi. The atmosphere had been heavy, even with Hoseok there—and now that he’s gone there’s nothing to alleviate that pressure, nothing to dissolve the strange twist to the air.

“Who,” you start, measured but sharp, “do you think you are?”

Yoongi returns your stare, looks back at you with his dark eyes. Doesn’t respond to your question; an unnecessary, unprompted thing, razor-edged for a reason he can’t discern. 

“Can’t you hear me?” You slide off the table, stalk towards him. “I said—” you raise a hand— “who? Do? You? Think? You? Are?”

You emphasise each word with a sharp jab to Yoongi’s chest, driving your finger forward with so much force it must hurt. You keep it in place, keep it dug into the centre of his ribcage. There’s no laughter hidden in the corner of your lips. He’s annoyed you again, somehow, a familiar guest turned unwelcome interloper.

“You say that you know Hope and yet I just watched you treat him like dirt.” Your eyes are piercing, cutting through the soft frame of your curled lashes, boring straight into him. “You come into my workshop as if you’re meant to be here; like there’s something you’re owed. Do you want me to treat you like a child, send you to your room? Not let you back in here? Because I will.”

“You sent me your address,” Yoongi points out.

You let out a bark of laughter. “Please.” Your hand drops back to your side and you turn, stepping away. “I’ve sent this address to all my business associates. I can’t sell or buy unless people can find me. You’re the only one who’s taken this as an invitation to just turn up and waltz in. At least when Hope turns up he warns me beforehand. Oh, and he doesn’t say stuff like he’d rather blow his own brains out than be forced to see me. I know you just love being contrary but has it ever occurred to you to be more polite to people? You’d make a terrible waiter. You’d get fired on your first day.”

You’re in front of one of your cabinets. You reach inside for something, hefting it in your hands before returning, handling it in a way that’s completely unceremonious, dropping it to the bench at his side like you want to be rid of it. Like you don’t even want to hand it directly to him, to interact with him. “There. Nothing but a pleasure doing business with you, Yoongi, even if your customer service still needs improving.”

It looks like a flat, hexagonal panel, the same colour and material as his armour. Something to be locked into it, wired in, trailing veins of unattached tech spilling from it. He’s seen you working on this for a while, seen you draw up blueprints with a bruise fresh on your cheek, seen it turned in your hands as that mark had faded and left your skin. 

It’s not something he ordered.

“What is this?”

You wave a dismissive hand. “Auto medi-gel distributor. It syncs with your armour and senses when you’ve been hurt and disperses gel in the affected area. Your armour’s always been too lightweight to have extra mods on but I’ve been working on this for a while.”

It’s an astonishing piece of tech. Usually one that’s reserved for heavier armour, restricting and hard to move in but easier to mod—but this thing is slim, compact, the same technology crammed into a smaller package without losing any of its punch. He doesn’t know what materials you’ve had to use to circumvent this, the level of tech you’ve layered into this, the amount of time and thought you’ve put into this.

“How much is it?”

The wrong thing to say. The smile that spreads itself across your lips is an echo of its usual curve, brittle and flaking around the edges, a baring of teeth.

“It’s a gift, Yoongi. Usually when someone does something for you, you return the favour.” Your lips are still upturned but your eyes are unsmiling even when your tone seems whimsical and light. You’ve got on your usual flippant façade, but there’s a pointed undercurrent to it. “You know, I don’t understand you at all. You remind me that you don’t like me but then you always hang around. You kill someone who threatened me and pretend that you didn’t do it. You say you don’t like me, but I thought you at least respected me, and yet here you are. Lying to me and treating me like I'm a fool.”

“I do respect you,” Yoongi says. 

(Because he does, and as much as he would hate to inflate your ego, he doesn’t shy away from telling the truth.)

“Sure you do.” An unimpressed eye-roll, cutting under his words, knocking his feet out from underneath him. You don’t care to believe him. “This is my fault for not treating you the same as all my other business associates.  Next time you come in you’ll have to have an appointment, just like everyone else. It’ll minimise the amount of time we have to spend together.”

Yoongi doesn’t like you. He finds, though, that he likes the sound of this even less; finds it pulling at his brows, his mouth, impassive expression turned to one of disapproval.

And his mouth opens. The word falls from his lips before he has a chance to think—years of battle intuition, years of following instinct, moving as he needs to in the moment.

“No.”

A raise of the brows. A purse of the lips. Incredulous. “No?” you parrot it back, mocking. “Oh, okay, sure. Never mind. You’re welcome to come in whenever you want and act like you have free rein of the place. There’s nothing I enjoy more than your scowling presence.”

Sharp tongued, sharp eyed, narrowed at him: a confrontation. For all that you needle him you never mean it, really (even if it’s still infuriating, aggravating). But right now? Right now each of your words is barbed, your sarcasm a defence, an offence. You’re running your mouth not just to rile him, but to ward him away. 

“You’re really not as smart as you think you are, Min Yoongi.” You wield his name like a weapon. “You tell me right now why I should listen to you. What do you come here for? And don’t say it’s for my work because it stopped being just that a long time ago. And if it is just for my work then take it and go. Then I’ll take you off the security system and we’ll only see each other as much as is strictly necessary. In fact, you could pass your orders along via Hope—then we won’t have to even see each other at all. ”

“And then he’ll be the only one allowed free rein?”

It comes out before he’s even really thought about what he’s saying, which isn’t like him at all. Yoongi is two parts: pure, honed instinct, and careful, wary vigilance. He’s not like you, saying the first thing that comes to mind—not normally, anyway—but the words jump from his lips, from some near-silent part of him that balks at the idea. Of Hoseok stepping into your space the way that Yoongi does, appearing without warning, to be greeted with a curled smirk and glittering eyes.

“You’re a fucking idiot if you think that you’re not the only person with security clearance. My God. You’re infuriating. Seriously? I didn’t realise you were genuinely this dense. You’re the only one I’ve ever allowed in without prior agreement.” You emphasise this statement with another jab to his chest, your finger a sharp knife that cuts into him as you stab it forwards.

He catches your wrist. His grasp is firm but there’s no pressure to it; doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t tighten his fingers, just holds you in place. You’re staring at him with a challenge in your eyes, one that he finds himself rising to match, never one to back down.

“Is that so?”

Your hand unfurls, fingers splayed across his chest; he’s still holding your wrist, shifting with your movement. “Don’t be obtuse.” An irritated exhale. “Normally you complain whenever I talk and now you’re trying to get me to repeat myself. Again with the inconsistency, Yoongi. Make up your mind.”

He could do what you do whenever you’re feeling particularly aggravating. Play dumb, ask more questions, drag out the interaction until you’re bordering on snapping—but he doesn’t. He looks at the set of your jaw, the way you’re staring at him. Unflinching. You’ve never been scared of him, and you aren’t now, not with how he’s got a hold of you, how close he is to you.

He toes the line. Shifts closer. Notes the way your pupils dilate, how the tips of your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt; how the air grows heavier, a frisson of electricity crackling through it. Yoongi doesn’t like you, but he likes that feeling—how the tension in the air shivers from indignation into something different.

Because you’re still staring at him, and there’s still that hard set to your jaw, but there’s not just anger in your eyes. There’s that warm thing he’s grown used to seeing, smouldering in near silence until he’d coaxed it to full flame, thrown gasoline onto the coals when he’d shot plasma into the back of Tang Lee’s skull. He’d protected you even though he hadn’t needed to, doesn’t need to, but does anyway—because he trusts you and there’s no one else he trusts to keep you safe.

And there’s no one else you trust, either.

“You talk too much,” Yoongi says, like he so often does—but there’s no irritation in it, touched instead with a simmering heat, the faintest edge of a bite.

You tilt your head. There’s a provocation etched into the twist of your mouth, the way your lips lift. Because no matter how much you needle him, dig your fingernails into every crack of his armour and twist—no matter how annoying you are, how angry you make him—you know that he’s not mad. Not really. Not in a way that makes you afraid, but in a way that thrills you, makes you want to see him snap, to wipe away that level facade he maintains.

“Maybe you should shut me up, then,” you reply, a murmur. A challenge.

A beat. Yoongi’s fingers tighten around your wrist. A warning.

And in response?

You just smile.

The way your eyes widen just seconds later is delicious, though, when Yoongi lets go of your wrist—because he’s moving faster than you expected. Your surprise melts into delight, a spark of glee that says you’ve gotten exactly what you want when Yoongi threads his fingers in your hair, tilting your head back to bare the column of your throat. He holds you firmly in place, crowds you back against the workbench so hard its edge must be digging almost painfully into your back but not once does that glee dim, written over every line of your smile, eyes bright and teeth sharp.

Yoongi likes to take things slow. There’s the part of him that never steps into a situation without knowing every angle, every escape route, each one of his kills planned meticulously. But, he thinks, the two of you have been waiting long enough, and he’s never been patient around you—has found his composure worn thin faster than anywhere else, by anyone else. It’s this part of him, frayed into non-existence by you, that rises to the surface now, makes him move as quick as he does.

And you respond just the way he knew you would. When he presses his mouth to yours you kiss him back like you have a point to make (you always do), fast and almost reckless, all lips and teeth and tongue. There’s no finesse to it. When he presses his tongue into your mouth you part your lips so prettily, let him take his fill, slide your tongue against his and tilt your head to get even deeper—and just like always, you're vocal, letting out small noises that are caught and muffled in the kiss, lust filled. But when you try to nip at his lip with the edge of your teeth Yoongi tightens his grip in your hair and swallows down your gasp before he pulls away, holding you in place so you can’t chase after his mouth. Your lips are kiss swollen and under the bright lights above they shine, slightly parted, pupils blown as you stare at him. 

(You look good like this.)

Your eyes slide shut when Yoongi lowers his lips to your neck, across your throat. There’s nothing gentle about it. He moves with single-minded intent, lips and teeth harsh against your sensitive skin—and you take it all, little sounds falling from your lips as Yoongi drags his teeth towards the hollow of your neck. And when he takes his hand from your hair, takes both hands and digs his fingers into your waist and lifts you, you go so easily; a mimicry of your earlier position when he’d stepped in, perched on the edge of the table. Legs spread so Yoongi can stand between them. He’d be surprised at how pliant you are if it wasn’t so obvious that this is exactly what you want: lifting your hips so he can strip your lower half bare. 

Your bare thighs press against the surface of the workbench, tech displays coming alive under your body heat. You’ve shrugged your cropped jacket off and you’re just reaching for your top when Yoongi stops you; splays a hand in the centre of your chest and presses you back, slow but undeniable. You’re not the one setting the pace. He is. He’s the one in control, with you spread out in front of him, only a thin layer of fabric keeping you from being completely bare—thin cotton underwear, dark and damp between your legs, betraying your arousal.

“Wet,” Yoongi murmurs.

Your retort stutters on your lips when he drags his fingers upwards over your slit, barely dulled by the material in the way. “No shit,” you say, and then suck in a breath when he presses the pad of his thumb across your clit.

It’s no good, the fact you’re still talking. But that’s okay. Yoongi’s planning on changing that.

It’s lewd, the way your legs are spread, parting further at the urging of his hands. Your hands slide across the bench, papers scattering, palms flat on the work surface and white light shimmering on dark blue in reaction to your touch; an unnecessary distraction that you both ignore. There’s nothing graceful about this, the peel of underwear away from your core, already slick even with the barest of attentions; he drags his fingers down the inside of your thighs, all that soft skin, and then under, urging your hips up and towards his mouth. No foreplay to this foreplay, no dragging out this moment—he bites at that soft skin of your inner thigh, sinks his teeth into it and listens to the way you gasp in surprise—and before you have a moment to ground yourself, he presses his mouth to your cunt.

You’re wet and warm under his tongue and the smell of you surrounds him, musky and heavy, and he feels how your entire body goes tense as you arch your back. He’d normally take his time with this, have you strung out and begging, but he has different plans today—knows exactly what he wants from this, sucking your clit between his lips and feeling your thighs tighten around his head, legs slung over his shoulders as he listens to the way you moan. Each sound shudders out from your mouth like you tried so desperately to keep it in but couldn’t help it. Yoongi loves eating pussy anyway but this is even better, the way all your witty ripostes die in your throat before you can shape them on your lips, turned into breathy gasps instead. 

The taste of you fills his mouth and it’s so fucking good. You’ve been watching him, how his head moves between your legs, but he can tell you’re close; you’ve given up, eyes shut as you lean into the sensation building up in you, and Yoongi thinks he likes you better like this. Forced into speechlessness under his hands and tongue. Your pretty mouth softened from sharpness into urging noises of pleasure. He slides one arm across your stomach and holds you in place, a hard line that you can’t overpower and you’re left squirming in place, hips trying to kick up each time he draws his tongue over your slit, every part of you sloppy with your own arousal and Yoongi’s spit, flushed and lovely. One of your hands is in his hair and you’re pulling, pulling hard, unaware of how tight your grip is as you try to buck your hips and sob. 

You’re so sensitive, and it only takes one, two fingers pressing into you and curling just right as Yoongi slides his tongue over your clit before you’re cumming, hot around his fingers as you come apart all wet and messy. He’s never seen you so undone, back arched as you ride out your orgasm, hair swept away from your forehead as you throw your head back. Keeps his mouth open on you, feels you under his tongue, until you’re flopped on your back and your chest is heaving, legs untensed and loose over his shoulders.

You shift an arm. Your fingers barely brush the medi-gel mod you’d made him, a loose sheet of paper sliding away and joining the others on the floor.

“Just moved in and it’s already a mess,” Yoongi says, and he doesn’t just mean the paper; fingers and chin and mouth covered in your slick, your core soaked. He’s still knuckle deep and when he curls his fingers again your entire body jolts, your mouth parting almost wantonly before you seem to struggle back to reality, surfacing from a haze of arousal and post orgasmic bliss.

“That’s your fault,” you say, voice weaker than usual. “I’ll send you the cleaning bill.”

“Mm. Not my fault you’re a messy girl.”

“Fuck you.” The blunt words are softened by your breathlessness, your bonelessness; the way your breath catches in your throat when he calls you a messy girl, even if you try to hide it. Trying not to let him in on exactly how much power he holds in this moment. 

“I was planning on it,” Yoongi says, as calm as ever, even if arousal is simmering through his veins and gathering in his gut—has been this entire time, the taste of you on his tongue and the heat of you under his lips and the sound of you in his ears. “Want to make your workshop even messier?”

You dig your balls of your feet into his back, legs still over his shoulders. His fingers shift inside you and you shiver. “I don’t think so,” you say. “Bedroom.”

“So you’re giving me a tour, then?”

You don’t dignify him with a response, although the noise you make when he finally pulls his fingers out of you is more than enough to satisfy him. He’s still fully dressed and you’re only half so, and it would be comical if the sight of your bare legs and slick on your inner thighs wasn’t so hot, barefoot on the glowing and pristine (papers notwithstanding) floors as you reach for his hand and lift it to your lips, sucking his fingers into your mouth and licking your arousal off his fingers with your tongue, warm and wet, before you grab his wrist and pull. 

He watches the movement of your hips as you lead him, your bare ass. Shameless as ever. Confident in yourself, even now. It’s not until you’ve stepped over the threshold and into your new bedroom that your tattoos become visible, as bright as the low lights in the room, those geometric lines and stylised circuitry on your legs shifting as you step forwards.

Even with the relative darkness Yoongi immediately notices something. Cast over the back of a chair near the bed, there’s his jacket, blood stains at the edge of the sleeves gone. Cleaned. Yoongi shifts his hand so you don’t have your fingers wrapped around his wrist any more. Instead he’s the one shackling you, holding you in place as you look over your shoulder.

“Were you ever going to return that to me?” He tilts his head at the chair. 

You pause. Glance over. Look back at him, all amusement and provocation, recovered from your earlier breathlessness. “But Yoongi, I get so cold.”

There’s something about the idea of you in his clothes, clothes that you know he’s worn when he’s been getting his hands dirty—he ignores the curl to your lips and moves you towards the bed, ignoring the sound of your self satisfied laughter when he reaches for your shirt and pulls, with you lifting your arms to help him, grinning at him the whole time. Even when he’s thrown your bra aside and kicked his boots off and pushed you onto the mattress, trapped you underneath him, completely naked against his completely clothed body you’re still smiling, like the cat who got the cream.

You’re stunning. There’s no doubt about it. You always have been, annoyingly so, even when Yoongi’s wanted to wring your neck; not just because you’re pretty but because you’re intelligent and confident and in control, staring up at him without a lick of fear or concern, even now. Never with him, never. He can see your tattoos in all their glory, nothing hidden away from his gaze; he sees one he hasn’t been able to see before, a sunflower bursting across your ribcage, curved under the swell of your breast, glowing red and orange in the midst of all your other cyan and teal lines, glowing in the black light. He’s pressing you down, trapped under his body, and you’re just waiting. Waiting and still smiling, smirking, letting him take you in, preening under his attention.

He wants to eat you alive.

So he does just that. Shifts back down the mattress on his knees, keeping his hands on you, pulling his hands down the easing lines of your ribs and waist and hips, before a firm tug has you lifting up—your smug facade shakes when you’re left with only your shoulders and head against the bed, the rest of your body pulled towards Yoongi’s waiting mouth once more, held in place with fingers that dig into your hips, thighs soft against his ears, your hands scrabbling at the linen underneath you when Yoongi’s lips press into the crease of your thigh, off balance.

“Safeword?” He murmurs into your skin, and you pause.

“Hoseok,” you answer, and Yoongi responds by biting into your thigh again, soothing it with his tongue when you squeal.

“Shameless.”

You’re still wet from before, slick with cum, and Yoongi doesn’t hesitate before he dives back in. He can hear more than he can see the way your fingers curl into your sheets and rumple them in your hands, anchored helplessly into place by Yoongi’s mouth and the fingers cupped under your ass, digging into the soft skin, undignified and at his mercy. 

“Yoongi!” You gasp, almost a whimper as a breath gets caught in your throat. “Y-Yoongi—”

You’re so helpless like this. It’s a little hard for Yoongi to breathe, your legs tightening around him, but it’s worth it for the way he can see you shaking apart. He presses his tongue as deep into you as he can, sucks your swollen pearl between his lips and circles it with his tongue, notices the way you jolt at those wet kisses, still sensitive from before, and he doesn’t let up. Keeps going and going and going until you’re gasping for air, sensations rippling through your body as you buck and writhe; you’re trying to keep yourself together, he can tell, but you’re unravelling, smirk wiped off your face and your mouth in a pretty little circle whenever you choke out oh, oh.

You cum faster than he expects, shoulders lifting away from the mattress as you arch your back so far it must hurt and tighten your legs and he feels the way your pussy throbs under his tongue, practically gushing when you reach your peak. Your eyes are unfocused when they flutter back open but you’re reaching for him, for the waistband of his trousers, trying to touch the hard length of his cock—he’s been ignoring it, how he’s leaked so much precum he can feel how wet it is in his boxer-briefs.

He keeps ignoring it now. He catches your hands, stops you in place, stares you down with an unimpressed tilt to his brows.

“What,” he says levelly, “do you think you’re doing?”

“Want you in my mouth,” you say. You seem almost desperate for it, fingers flexing in his hold, letting your tongue linger against your lips longer than necessary. “I want your cock in my mouth, Yoongi.”

He tightens his grip around your wrists. And then, for the first time all night, he smiles.

“No.”

You look stunned. Just for a moment. Then you’re squirming in his hold, but you’re trapped, nowhere to go. “What do you mean, no?”

Yoongi’s still smiling, mirroring the self satisfaction that had been written all over your face earlier. “I mean no. You don’t get what you want. You get what you’re given.”

There’s nothing he’d like more than to sink into that wet heat, to see your smart mouth put to good use, lips spread over his cock, but this is better. Seeing the genuine frustration and disbelief written across your features. 

He doesn’t give you time to line up another angered retort on your tongue. Doesn’t give you time to breathe before he’s flipping you over, the wings of your shoulder blades and curve of your spine emphasised by the lines that are traced symmetrically and shining across your skin. They shift when you move, hips lifted from the mattress by Yoongi’s hands, on your hands and knees as he fumbles his waistband and zipper and pulls his cock free. He’s painfully hard, flushed head with precum that beads at the tip, and when he tugs you back he watches the way the head drags across the curve of your ass, leaving a shining line of wetness on your skin.

And when he sinks into you he barely gives you time to adjust, barely has time to adjust himself, to all this hot tight wetness after his cock’s gotten no attention at all—you let out a moan that almost sounds like you’re singing, long and high with pleasure, the slide eased from all your cum.

 You take it so well, always so good to him no matter how irritating you are, so lost in the sensations that you don’t say anything about the hard edges of Yoongi’s clothes whenever he drives his hips forward and it presses into the soft skin of your thighs. It’s messy and choppy and fast and you slump onto your elbows, entire body shaking as you take everything Yoongi is giving you. Caged underneath him when he follows you forwards, presses his front to your back, feels the way the sweat on your skin is caught against the fabric of his clothes. Grinds his hips deep and feels the way you gasp, sucking in a shaking breath, your entire body lost in it. He bites his lip and keeps his own sounds caught behind his teeth, not letting you know how you’re pulling him towards his own edge.

He’s not done with you yet.

Your clit is slick under his touch when he lifts his fingers to touch you, to layer another sensation on top of the cock inside you, and you’re sobbing. You don’t ask him to stop, never know when to quit, face every challenge thrown at you—and Yoongi can tell that you love it even if your body is crying out, that you love this oversensitivity, pulled taut and strung out. You’re beyond speech, words slurred, barely recognisable as his name and pleas of more, please, more. He can feel when you’ve crested the wave of too much sensation and fallen back into that rippling sea of pleasure, and when you cum it’s with a soundless moan, mouth wide open but no noise escaping. No more sharp retorts, no smart words, fucked into incoherency, trembling and quivering as you go tight around him and Yoongi struggles not to lose himself then and there, in your scorching, wet cunt, fluttering around him.

The noise when he pulls out is slick and lewd, just like all the other noises that have been filling the room, the slap of skin on skin temporarily halted when Yoongi rolls you onto your back. There’s sweat beading on your skin, shimmering, tears gathering in the corner of your eyes and glistening like tiny jewels in the multi-coloured low light of this room. Your lips are parted and your gaze is bleary and you’re everything Yoongi has never seen from you before, fuzzy and quiet, entirely pliant. When he reaches for you again, runs his hands over the rise of your hipbones and down the side of your thighs, you whimper.

“One more,” Yoongi says. “One more, you can give me one more.”

You’ve never known when to quit, and now is no different, even if you’re on the verge of being entirely fucked dumb. Those tears pool in your eyes and stream down towards your hairline, but you let Yoongi move you, try to help by lifting your hips but almost too gone to move at all. Yoongi almost cums when he sinks into you, your willing body; he thinks you’ve never looked better than you do now, smelling like sweat and sex and so soft under his hands, taking his cock like you were made for it, and you’re so gorgeous when you’re falling apart. 

The attitude you wear normally—the one that chafes at Yoongi’s nerve-endings—has been entirely wiped away, forced out of you by mindless pleasure. But still, you know what you want, even now, even when you’re barely coherent—Yoongi feels your hand slide across his and pull weakly, guiding it across your chest and up, circling his fingers around your neck.

He swears. Snaps his hips forward hard, watches the way your eyes roll back when he gives an experimental squeeze around your throat. Yoongi’s choked people before, knows exactly how much pressure to give, how much it takes to cut someone’s airways completely or how to just leave them reeling; he lets you linger on the edge of breathlessness, feels the way you go tight around him. When you orgasm it rips through you, your thighs tightening around Yoongi’s hips as you hit your peak and cum hard, and the feeling of it has Yoongi cursing and bending forwards to shove his face in your neck and kiss the salt-sweat taste he finds there as he falls off the edge. He cums wet inside you, keeps rolling his hips through it all, lets his cum mix with yours and watches the way you just keep taking it, even when your whole body is trembling from how much it is.

And when Yoongi calls you a good girl, you don’t snap back like you normally would, don’t deride his praise. You bask in it, as tired as you are, letting out a soft noise when he pulls his softening cock out of you, unbothered by the wet patches on your sheets and how the whole room stinks of sex. When he moves to lift you, to get you clean, you go easily and without argument, every one of your honed edges dulled, and you make no move to sharpen them again, to drag them over Yoongi in the way he’s so familiar with by now. Even when you’ve lifted out of your haze and you’re back in the moment, the way you watch Yoongi is no less calm than normal, but still different.

“Stay.”

He’s in the middle of reaching for his boots, discarded on the floor, a discordant note on the clear floor. You’re wearing clean underwear and a loose t-shirt and you’re looking at him with something verging on surprise, like you hadn’t expected to see him moving to pull his shoes back on to leave.

He hadn’t been planning to.

“Just moving them out of the way,” says Yoongi, putting them upright by the base of your chair, and then he makes his way back to you. You don’t attempt to hide your pleasure that he’s listened to you,  pulling him onto the bed despite the fact he’s still dressed.

“I don’t cuddle,” he says, even as you tuck yourself into the crook of his arm, and he shifts to make it more comfortable for you.

You press your face into the hollow of his neck, touch your nose against his throat, breathing in the smell of sweat that still lingers—because you’re shower soft and fresh but he isn’t, and weirdly enough, you seem to enjoy it. Seem to enjoy that contrast, the one that’s always existed between you, Yoongi immersed in blood and sweat and tears while you’re away from it, one degree of separation from it all. “You know, I like it when you do things for me.”

Normally he’d protest, say that he doesn’t do things for you, but the truth is that he does, even if he’s only just admitting it to himself. 

“Like that time you killed someone for me,” you say, and Yoongi’s fingers tighten, soft skin of your waist yielding under his touch.

“I kill a lot of people.”

You let out a laugh against his skin, quietly amused. “Just admit it. You like me, Min Yoongi.”

A pause. 

Then: “Against my better judgement, I do.”

And he does. Even if you’re irritating and maddening, he does like you, and not just because of the work you do for him. He thinks that even if you weren’t so good at your job that he’d find himself here anyway, caught in this push and pull you have, magnetised.

“No need to sound so begrudging,” you say, but there’s no real annoyance behind your words. 

Yoongi finds that he likes that note in your voice, like you’re indulging him and his stubbornness and you’re unmoved by it. He hums in response. Feels the way you shift back, lean on your elbows to look down at him, lips curled up at the corners.

“Kiss me.”

Not a question. A demand. Yoongi stares you down, just for a second, before he lifts a hand and weaves a hand back into your hair, tilting your mouth against his. He can feel your self satisfied smile against his lips and he doesn’t mind it at all, sees it spread across your face when you eventually pull back, all flushed lips and warm eyes.

You’re still sharp, a weapon in your own right, but you willingly hand yourself over to be held in his skilled hands, let yourself be worn smooth by his touch. He weaves his fingers between your own, your palm soft and warm against his, and he likes this. That you’re unafraid of what he is, that the fact he’s a killer isn’t something that scares you or thrills you.

Yoongi likes your work. He likes that he knows he can trust you. He likes that he knows of your loyalty, to the people you choose and to yourself, your unwavering principles, as unpredictable as they might seem. He likes that you’re unashamed to be yourself and to be confident, no matter how people react to that cockiness. 

What he likes even better than all that is this, though: the way you’re pressed against his side, evidence of his touch written into your skin. The feeling of your hand in his. Despite all the odds, all the months of drawn out and simmering exasperation and tension coming to a head like this, Yoongi likes you.

“I’m not going to give you a discount, you know,” you say suddenly, and for the first time since you met, Yoongi allows himself to laugh at you.

“I’d be offended if you did.”

(You’re loud. Cocky. Arrogant. You love to irritate him just for the hell of it, because you think it’s funny and you love knowing that you can rile him up—but he can rile you up too, and you both know it.

Yeah. Yoongi likes you.)

tagging: @beyoncesdragon @vensulove @gyukult  @swinginpicklesuitcaseapricot @kpopheart2 @loveyoongles @muzikabijou  @katbonv @jaxx-7 @yeojaa

[sundaysundaes]

Craving

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Vampire AU, Roommates AU | Smut, Fluff, Humor, Romance

Summary: Dating a brat is exhausting. Dating a bratty vampire is even more exhausting so you wonder, why did I even agree to this?

It’s a continuation of Love Bites but can be read separately because it’s really just 12k long of vampire porn with no real plot.

Warnings: Vampire sex, bondage, oral sex (69), overstimulation, unprotected sex, fingering, implied public sex, a little bit of dom!hyuck and a little bit of exhibitionist!hyuck, blood sucking (plenty of that) 

Not once in your life did you ever imagine yourself dating a vampire. And certainly, never thought about living together with that so-called vampire boyfriend of yours. You never know what to expect from a situation like this but maybe it’s better not to think too much about it anyway since Lee Donghyuck always manages to exceed your expectation.

Before you became his personal midnight snack, Donghyuck had to search for his own food which either meant he had to buy blood bags from the cheapest hospital around or pick up girls with low self-esteems downtown to have kinky and messy—like really messy, blood everywhere, you don’t want to imagine—one night stands with them to fulfill both his needs for blood and sex. He often complained about it, grumbling with his lips turning into this adorable pout as he told you how he wasn’t fond of his way of life or the effort he had to make just to survive.

So now that he has you as his personal walking blood bag, Donghyuck is having the time of his life and he’s enjoying every minute of it. He’s one hundred percent happy all the time that it annoys the heck out of you. It’s not that you don’t want him to be happy—of course, you want your boyfriend to be happy—but happy Donghyuck means he’s gonna get all clingy and playful, and him being clingy and playful means hell.

“Hyuck.”

“Yes, baby?”

“I’m trying to do my laundry.”

“I’m aware.”

“So, can you get off of me for a second, please?”

“For a second? Sure.” He untangles himself away from you but only for a second, literally. “Second’s up!” The way he giggles is almost like a child, circling his arms along your waist and buries his face in the crook of your neck again, nuzzling up to you while chanting, “Cute, cute, cute, you’re so cute. The cutest girl in the whole universe!” 

Donghyuck is clingy as fuck. He can’t go through the whole ten minutes without, at least, ruffling your hair, poking your cheek, or pinching the bridge of your nose. You’ve known for a while that he’s fond of skinship more than anyone you’ve ever met and it was bearable before since he only did it when he was flirting with you. But ever since you’ve become official, he just literally couldn’t get his hands off you.

So, how on earth would you get any of your work done?

The second the sun sinks below the horizon, Donghyuck will come out of his room with the biggest smile on his face and his arms spread wide, “Baby, I’m awake! Come here and get your daily dose of Hyuck’s loving!” And if you don’t respond to him in the way he wants to—which is by embracing him and kissing him for a good half an hour or so—he will make sure you won’t be able to pay attention to anything else but him for the rest of the evening.

He follows you around like a puppy, humming the same Michael Jackson’s song over and over again as he waits for you to finish washing the dishes, his feet tapping against the floor to match the beats in his head.

“Don’t you have something else to do besides waiting for me?” You ask, scrubbing the rest of the barbecue sauce off your plate. 

“I do have something to do.” And he suddenly pops up behind you, blowing air to your ear. “You.”

And you raise your silver spoon in the air, forcing him to run to the other side of the room, whining, “Baby, that’s not fair!”

Whenever you’re busy reading a book, Donghyuck will snuggle close and insist for you to sit on his lap. You’re not complaining in the slightest because it does feel nice and he rarely does anything weird since he also enjoys spending his time watching tv with his chin placed on the top of your head and his arms circled idly around your waist. It’s you who tends to get distracted with the way his chest is pressing against your spine, his laugh reverberating straight to your skin whenever something funny is playing on the screen. And when you get distracted, your heart races, and when he hears your heartbeat increasing, he chuckles lowly, leaning in to nibble at your earlobe while whispering, “If you’re horny, you can just tell me, baby.”

And you smack him in the head with your book.

Today is a bit different. Today, you have dedicated yourself to switch your role and be the one who teases the hell out of him instead. But since he’s too sly, always a step ahead of you whenever you make a plan to humiliate him, there’s only one way you can win this game: ignoring him.

So that’s what you intend to do. When the night takes over and Donghyuck comes out from his room with a bird’s nest on his head and a cheeky grin on his face, saying, “Baby, I’m awake and I’m ready to hear how much you’ve missed me during the day,” you just sit there on the couch, flipping another page of your novel. “Hey, Hyuck,” you simply greet him.

“Hey, Hyuck?” He repeats, appalled and disgusted with the way you said it. “What kind of treatment is that? Is it that time of the month already?” He takes a whiff of the air. “No, it’s not. I can smell it.”

“For the sake of our relationship, please refrain yourself from smelling my scent to know my menstruation cycle in the future, thank you.”

“How? You want me to stop breathing?” He laughs to himself. “Just kidding. You know I don’t breathe.”

You want to roll your eyes and bury your face in your hands—ashamed of the things he said—but you realize that you have to play it cool and give him the cold shoulder.

Placing hands on his hips, he questions with a huff, “So I’m not getting any hug around here?” 

“I’ll be with you in a moment.” 

You move away from the living room, doing literally anything else but giving him what he asks for. Donghyuck sighs and follows you too, as expected, leaning his back against the kitchen counter as he waits for you to finish making yourself a cup of coffee.

“Did I do something that upset you?” He asks, scratching his cheek.

“No, of course not.” You smile, giving him a squeeze on his arm. But then you walk away, leaving him confused and bitter.

Ignoring him is both fun and hilarious because you can see him stealing glances at you even when he tries to act cool about it. He tries to distract himself by playing video games but he keeps on losing so he presses his fingers a little too hard to the controller, nearly breaking it in half.

“Careful,” you warn. “I borrowed that thing.”

“Whatever.” He throws the controller away, scoffing. “It’s stupid anyway.”

To know that his happy self can be reduced to this grumbling mess just because you’re ignoring him makes you feel elated and you wonder, am I a sadist for enjoying this so much?

Hours have passed and you still won’t give in to him, which is really something because he’s doing things that almost make you crawl back to his lap. Donghyuck knows how hot he is, knows how his eyebrow raise and half-lidded eyes do wonders to your heart and mind. So it’s not a surprise when he walks out of the bathroom with his wet hair pushed back, showcasing his temple and his perfect eyebrows. Droplets of water are sliding down from his bare chest to his v-lines, with his white towel hanging dangerously low on his hips. He doesn’t head back to his room right away, and instead, takes a seat on the coffee table, right in front of you.

“Babe.”

You promise yourself inwardly that you will not take a fucking glance at him when he’s like this. “Hmm?”

“I know you’re trying your best to ignore me but your heart is beating like crazy.” He’s raising his eyebrow. You know it. You’re not seeing it but you know it. “Isn’t it time for you to give up your stupid little prank and make-out with me already?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” This time, you open your MacBook, busying yourself with typing words on your keyboards.

Donghyuck walks over—still in his fucking towel and nothing more, for God’s sake—and leans closer from behind the couch. He looks over your shoulder as you browse the internet to find something to distract your thoughts. He snorts loudly when he sees the article you’re reading.

“Chalamet?” He jeers. “Who’s Timothee Chalamet? What kind of name is Timothee Chalamet?”

“He’s an Oscar nominee and he’s barely twenty-five. He’s cute.”

“So? I’m cuter than Timothee Chalamet. Way more beautiful too. Just FYI, they invented the term ‘beautiful’ to describe me actually. Happened a long time ago. It’s a fact.”

“That’s great,” you blankly respond, typing another name of a celebrity on the search bar. “I know there’s another term they invented for you.”

“What, ethereal?”

“Cocky-Ass Bitch.”

He gasps and he’s not even breathing.

And when you keep denying his protest, he pushes your MacBook away from your lap and tackles you down to the couch.

“I can’t believe you’re looking at some other dude when you have me paying you full attention,” he says, wetting his lower lip as he peers into your eyes, his body hovering dangerously close above yours. His eyes are gleaming with both desire and affection which still makes the knot in your stomach tighten to this day but you’re a tad better at controlling your expression this time. A droplet of water drops from the tip of his hair to your cheek.

Wiping it off with a slide of your thumb, you comment, “You’re wet.”

“So are you, ever since you’ve met me.” He winces at his words when a few seconds pass by in silence. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

You tap his cheek. “As long as you’ve learned your lesson.”

He pouts as he heads back to the main topic. “Your prank is going too far, Sweetheart.”

“What prank? I don’t do pranks, Hyuck. I’m not you.”

“So, why have you been ignoring me then?”

“Is it really that weird for me to just have some time for myself?”

“Well—I—” It’s the first time he ever seems lost for words. “I just—”

“What, are you thirsty?” You flatly ask, telling yourself to not let your eyes wander to the muscles in his arms and stomach. “Don’t tell me you want to drink again. It’s only been a day, Hyuck.”

“It’s not that!” He whines, pouting with his eyebrows knitting in a frown. “Can’t I snuggle with my girlfriend?”

“That’s literally what you’ve been doing all this time.”

“Yes, but you haven’t been focusing on me properly!” He sighs loudly, letting you go, and throws himself down on the other end of the couch with a loud huff. “You know what, I think we really should talk about this.”

“Talk about what?”

“About how you’re not really cute these days!” He blurts out, hands moving animatedly as he speaks. “You used to be all fidgety and shy, blushing all the time whenever you see me—”

“In your head, maybe. I don’t recall ever doing that.”

“See, this!” He throws his hands in the air, exasperated. “This is what I’m talking about. You’re mean to me now! Not cute at all!”

“Is this our first fight?” You ask, yawning a little which makes your boyfriend gapes in disbelief. “Are we really fighting over the fact I’m not cute anymore? Seriously?” But when he becomes more upset, you break out in a grin. “I’m just messing with you.” Still laying down on the couch, you tug at his hand. “Come here.”

He crosses his arms on his chest. “No.”

“You don’t want your daily dose of my sweet, sweet loving?”

He shakes his head, his lower lip protruding. “Why should I be the one who needs to crawl over to you? This is your fault. You come here.”

You exhale loudly but on the inside, you can’t help but squeal he’s so fucking cute.

You’re not usually aggressive during make-out sessions—well, at least not with Donghyuck anyway. With Mark, you had to take a lead or else you’d just end up watching TV until you both pass out on the couch. But you decide to step up your game today because just as much as he likes to tease you, you also like to tease him.

“Fine,” you say, crawling over to the other side of the couch and settle yourself on his lap. You lay your hand on his shoulders, massaging the tense muscles. “Better?”

Donghyuck is still glowering at you in response so you decide to take a step further. “You look so hot without your clothes on,” you praise him, thanking God that your voice doesn’t stutter. Your fingertips draw a line from his Adam’s apple down to his chest. “But I guess you already know that seeing how many times you’re doing this on purpose.”

He scoffs, swatting your hand away before he crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Don’t touch me. I’m still pissed at you.”

You chuckle. “Ah, so no Hyuck’s loving for me tonight?”

“No Hyuck’s loving for the whole week.”

“You sure about that?” Toying with the buttons of your shirt, you wiggle your eyebrows seductively at him.

He hears the sound of your button being popped open but gives his best effort to keep his eyes away. “What are you doing?”

“Undressing myself.”

“Why?”

“Because my cute vampire boyfriend is upset,” you pause to stand on your knees, tugging the rest of your shirt out from your skirt before you discard it to the floor. “And I know this would please him.”

He instinctively turns to you, his nose almost grazing your bare stomach before he quickly looks away again, albeit tempted to suck bruises on the supple skin. Donghyuck’s eyes move to stare at the ceiling, gulping at the sound of you pulling down the zipper on your skirt to loosen the fabric before you push it up to your hips, giving him the chance to stare at your thighs when he wants.

“Hyuck,” you move your hips slightly, giving him enough friction to entice his mind. “Baby.”

Donghyuck tries his very best to avert his gaze to anything else besides the part that connects you to him. “No,” he repeats, clenching his jaw.

“But Hyuck…” You realize you’re practically moaning his name now and it’s both embarrassing and exciting that you can play the role of a seductress and having that kind of effect on him. Hooking a finger around your bra strap, you pull it down, exposing the joints between your neck and your shoulder. “Don’t you want me?”

He suddenly whines loudly, throwing his head back with his teeth gritting against one another as he murmurs “You’re unbelievable,” bitterly into the air but you can hear his confidence wavering. It only takes another grind of your hips against him before he snaps. 

You’re suddenly thrown back to his bed before you know it. He was moving too fast for your eyes to process that you could only felt being carried for a split second before you have your back pressed against the sheets.

He’s hovering on top of you, your hips trapped between his knees. “You do realize,” he begins, “That I never just look at you as an object of sexual desire, right? You’re more than that to me.” He bends down, one hand curling against the front of your neck, his thumb tracing your beating vein. “Way, way more than that.”

His sincerity and serious demeanor catch you off guard. “Yeah, also as someone to fill your midnight cravings.”

“Of course not—”

“I’m kidding, I know.” Your playful gaze is replaced with a tender one. “But you always react like this whenever I tempt you that way so I couldn’t help but tease.”

He scrunches up his nose. “You’re not cute.” But the way he slots his mouth against yours speak nothing but praise and adoration. “You’re not cute at all.”

Surprisingly, Donghyuck is gentler after your first sexual encounter with him. Maybe it’s because he feels sorry for sucking too much blood and went a little rough when it was your first time on everything. You always try to convince him that it’s fine and it doesn’t hurt at all during the time you have sex with him—because the chemicals in his saliva triggered an endorphin rush, pumping pleasure all over your body—but seeing how you could barely walk on the next morning, Donghyuck decides to restrain himself.

You still remember the second time he decided to take a step further, about two weeks after your first intimate session with him. Donghyuck was at his very best behavior that night—making you dinner, listening to you complaining about your work, and swaying his body with you to the soft music he played in the background. Being in such close proximity, you couldn’t help but wonder why he never laid a hand on you again. He did drink from you, once every two days, but he always acted so rigid, so jittery when he held you to his chest, drinking from the side of your neck. You were awkward too, not sure how to place your hands or say something to break the tension. You could hear him swallowing, once, twice, taking a big gulp each time and you could feel yourself drowning in refined pleasure, losing track of the world from his bite.

Speaking of that, you notice one thing. This endorphin rush you feel every time he sinks his teeth into your skin also affects your sexual desire. You didn’t realize that before because you were having sex the first time he bit you. You finally understand why those slutty girls he brought home loved having their blood sucked by vampires. Sex with a vampire itself is transcendent, so having your blood sucked during sex? A dangerous, erotic, and lovely bliss.

But Donghyuck never touched you that way, that was the problem. Every time he finished drinking, he’d retract his fangs back, making you whimper at the loss of his effects on you and leaving you dizzy with blood loss. He’d wipe his mouth clean, tilt your face to check on your condition—which you always responded with a goofy smile as you reeled on the lingering sensation of his bite—and say, “I’m sorry that you had to do this for me. I’ll carry you back to your room. Hold on to me.” And you’d allow him to do just that, secretly hoping that he would join you in bed but he never did. 

Was the sex not good? Were you too loud? Too whiny? Too docile? Were you too shy? Does he prefer his partner to take control in bed? Be more aggressive? These questions ran back-and-forth in your mind to the point that you began to have trouble sleeping.

So when two weeks had passed after that bathroom incident and nothing happened, you decided to bring the matter down to the table. You were craving for his touch, even more so when he looked so fucking good with his hair slightly pushed back, his shirt doing nothing at hiding the muscles in his arms, his face hovering just a few inches away from yours as he led you close in a slow dance. You just needed to ask before you went crazy.

“Why won’t you touch me?”

Donghyuck blinked. “What?”

“Why won’t you touch me?” You repeated, heat rising to your cheeks. “After that night in the bathroom, you never… made a move on me.”

That question should’ve triggered something sinful coming from his mouth, probably like, “Oh, so you want me to touch you? Enlighten me, Sweetheart, just how much do you want me? Where do you exactly want me to touch you?”

But Donghyuck actually just stood in silence with conflicted eyes. You had to call his name to force him to speak. “I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“You won’t hurt me—”

“No, you don’t understand.” He cupped the side of your face, thumb rubbing soothingly against your cheekbone. “Drinking your blood already makes me want to do crazy things to you. You’re so alluring, so…” He wetted his lip, his eyes going down to take in the shape of your mouth. “Intoxicating.” He moved his thumb to trace the smoothness of your lips. “I’m just afraid that I won’t be able to control myself when we take a step further than this. I don’t want to hurt you again like I did the first time.”

It’s funny how he mentioned the word intoxicating because that was how exactly you perceived him. His whole being was intoxicating, turning every sound in the room into a whisper, every bit of your surroundings into a blur. The world did not matter when you were with him, as it solely revolved around him.

So you yanked him down by the collar of his shirt, slotted your mouth against his, lips parting to taste a hint of the coppery flavor of your blood on his tongue. Donghyuck instinctively reacted by enclosing his arms along your waist, pulling you close until you breathed heavily against his mouth. He was a man of passion, burning like the sun, lips scorching as he met yours in a searing kiss.

He tried to break away, holding your wrist in the air. “Wait, stop—”

“I have an idea,” you immediately said, kissing him once again just because you couldn’t hold yourself away from the temptation. “I have an idea we can try, so—” Another kiss, but he was the one who initiated it this time. He pushed you against the wall, gentle but dominating, his knee slipping between your legs, pushing up the fabric of your dress. You moaned against his mouth, fingers fisting against his shirt, desperate for support. He slid both hands down your thighs, silky smooth against your skin, and lifted your legs in the air, forcing you to tangle them around his waist to maintain stability.

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath, reeling in the way he peppered kisses from your jawline down to your neck, tongue lapping at a speck of dry blood on your marked skin. “Let’s go—ah—let’s go to your room—Hyuck—”

He was busy having his hand under your shirt, splaying his fingers on your stomach before they found their way up to your breast, but he heard your order. He carried you back to his room, lips never leaving yours and you found yourself pressed against the sheet the next time you blinked your eyes. 

“Those handcuffs,” you gasped out between his smothering kisses. “Those handcuffs of yours that you keep in your closet. Use them.”

Donghyuck abruptly stopped, tugged himself away. “What?”

You were breathless and lightheaded, chest heaving up and down. “It upsets me to say this,” you confessed, “But I remember that time when we haven’t started dating, I found a pair of handcuffs in your closet and—”

“You went into my closet?”

“To clean your stuff. You had your clothes scattered all over the place so I had to fold them up and when I was about to put them back in, I saw them. I thought it was probably one of your kinks so I just shrugged it off. You honestly didn’t realize how clean and organized your closet was that day?”

“Well, I was never messy to begin with.”

“That’s bullshit and we both know it.”

He pouted, sighing. “Right, so you knew about my bondage kink. You’re telling me you want us to use it?” He gave you a look. “You had sex one time and you’ve already found yourself a kink? Seems like I underestimated your sexual curiosity, woman.”

“It’s not that.” You rolled your eyes. All of this rambling did not fuel your arousal, at all. “I want you to wear it.”

Donghyuck actually looked disgusted. “I like to tie my women, not being tied up, thank you very much.”

“You said you were scared of losing control, right? If you’re tied up, you won’t be able to hurt me.”

He snorted. “A cheap handcuff like that won’t be able to hold me down, Sweetheart.”

“But at least it serves as a reminder.” You laid your hand on his chest, drawing lines on the cold skin. “I mean, I’m fine whether you wear it or not. I just want to be with you.” You pulled him down into an innocent hug, but the way you were grinding your hips against him was anything but that. “But if you feel this,” you palmed his length through his jeans, forcing him to emit a groan from the back of his throat, “can make you lose control then maybe we should try my idea. I don’t want us to stop, Hyuck, and I don’t care if you break me.” You leaned in to bury your face in the juncture of his neck, whispering, “I just want to feel you inside me again.”

“Fuck.” He groaned loudly against your shoulder, fingers twisting against the sheet. “Okay, where’s that fucking handcuff—” The way he tumbled down the bed—a century-old vampire tumbling down the bed—makes you giggle, even more so when he frantically rummages his closet, throwing clothes here and there, muttering, “where is it, where is it, come on, come on, come on, where’s that fucking thing,” to himself, until he finally hooked his fingers around a pair of handcuffs, shouting, “YES, I FOUND THEM,” to the air. 

He hurriedly went back to the bed, looking breathless when he wasn’t even breathing, and crawled on top of you again. He chased after your lips and your laughter soon reduced back into gasps and moans before he finally broke away, asking, “Okay, tie me up. Hurry.” You’d think that being alive for more than a century would’ve taught him some self-control, but Donghyuck was eager and desperate, way more than you were.

He flipped your body before you could prepare yourself so you yelped in surprise, landing on his chest as he laid himself down on the bed, his head nearly knocking against the headboard. He offered you his wrists, saying, “I’m all yours, Sweetheart.” And you gulped hard, heartbeat blasting through the roof, heat rising to your cheeks. 

The handcuffs were made of steel, cold to the touch and you secretly thanked the Lord that they weren’t one of those furry ones you saw in porn movies. You were secretly drooling at the sight of your usually dominating boyfriend lying helplessly on the bed, waiting for you to take the lead; his broad chest displayed under your hands, with you straddling him by the hips. His shirt was slightly pushed up, showcasing his v-lines and his navel that usually stayed hidden underneath. You followed his happy trail, disappointed when it disappeared behind the hem of his jeans.

“Stop being so blatant about it.” His voice was velvety, thick with seduction. “You’re gonna make me blush.”

“I—I wasn’t staring.”

“Never said you were.”

It was annoying how easily he could make you feel all hot and flustered. “S-shouldn’t you take off your shirt first?”

He held back a smile. “I can fuck you just fine with my shirt on but sure, I’ll take it off.” There was something in the way he grabbed the back of his shirt before he pulled it over his head that made you blush, averting your gaze but managed to sneak a peek at the way the muscles on his abs were contracting under the movement.

“Baby?” He snatched you back to reality when a few seconds had passed in silence. “If you don’t tie me up now, I’m gonna tie you up and have my way with you.”

You blushed. That… actually doesn’t sound so bad. You shook your head. That can wait. With shaky fingers, you place one of the handcuffs around his wrist and tied the other one to his headboard. He tried to yank his hand free, testing the strength of it. “I can break this in a split second,” he commented, “But I guess it does work as a reminder.”

“Do you have another pair that I can use to tie your other hand?”

“Leave my other hand free,” he demanded, eyes gleaming as he gazed at you. “I want to touch you.”

You breathed heavily. “O-okay.”

“So,” he smiled, awkward and amused. “We’re doing this?”

You bit your lip, slowly nodding. “W-we’re doing this.”

“Aaw, nervous?” His laughter sounded light in your ears. “How cute.”

“Shut up.”

“Then, come here,” he invited, gesturing you to come close with one hand. “Kiss me.”

You didn’t waste a second longer. 

His kiss was slower this time, almost shy as if it was the first kiss you shared with him and it somehow made your heart beat even faster. You could hear him chuckling against your mouth, probably noticing your heart rate and you slapped his chest playfully to stop him from hearing things he wasn’t supposed to.

“Ah, you’re cute, so cute,” he kept saying, tracing his tongue along your lower lip, begging for entrance. His kisses gradually became deeper, harder, and his muffled laughter was replaced with soft groans. His praise was reduced to your name and you sighed in pleasure when you felt his lips moving down your neck, grazing your beating vein.

The position felt a bit awkward but possibly because you had never done it with him before. You were lying on top of him, your body pressed hotly against his chest and although he was already half-naked, you were still fully clothed. You weren’t sure whether you should undress yourself or let him do the work, but could he do it with one hand?

You remembered the time when he ripped your camisole and bra at the same time with only his fingers.

Yes. Yes, he could.

But Donghyuck seemed to be aware of what you were thinking because he ordered you to, “Take your clothes off.”

“I’m—” Flabbergasted, you pulled away, sitting straight on his stomach. “C-can’t you just take them off for me?”

You could tell he was trying to hold back another smirk from breaking upon his face. “But baby,” he cooed, raising his free hand in the air. “I only have one hand.”

“You practically ripped my undergarments with one finger before.”

“Did I?” His smirk grew prominent. “I forgot.”

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“What, being straddled by my girlfriend as she tries to undress herself while I’m being tied up to the bed?” He shrugged nonchalantly. “Meh, it’s not bad.”

“Why you little—”

Donghyuck’s laughter was contagious when you tickled him on the sides of his stomach that you ended up smiling at him too but it soon faltered when he curled his fingers around your locks, bringing your head down to smash his lips against yours until they were red and bruised. You became nervous once again when he tugged on your shirt, silently ordering you to take it off.

“Okay,” you said, sitting on his stomach, fingers trembling slightly as they were fiddling around the top of your dress. “Can you… look away, please?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re making me nervous.”

“Baby,” he tittered, “Just in case you weren’t aware of this. Being your boyfriend means that I’m allowed to enjoy the sight of my girlfriend taking her clothes off.”

“M-maybe later in the future. Can you just look away now?” When he was still adamant about it, you added, “Please?”

He sighed. “Fine, but in the future don’t blame me if I ask you to strip-tease to make up for this.” He closed his eyes, lips pouting. “Also, this is the only time I’ll allow this to happen.”

“Two weeks in our relationship and you’re already ordering me around.”

“It’s not—” He groaned loudly, opening his eyes again to make sure you knew that he was glaring. “It’s not that. I just really want to look. There’s something sexy about girls taking their clothes off.”

“Girls?”

“I mean, you, baby. Only you.”

You gave him a flat look. “Whatever. Close your eyes.”

He jutted out his bottom lip but followed your command, while quietly repeating your line, “Two weeks in our relationship and you’re already ordering me around.”

“I heard that.”

“I heard that,” he mocked and you flicked him on his Adam’s apple until he whined.

Dating a brat was exhausting. Dating a bratty vampire was even more exhausting, but Donghyuck could also be charming and mature when he needed to be so you forgave him for that.

Seeing how he kept his eyes closed, you reached the end of your dress and pulled it off your head in one try. Strands of your hair were caught in the zipper, tugging at your scalp when you tried to unravel them in a hurry. Clicking your tongue in annoyance, you gave better effort to disentangled them with more patience.

“Need a hand, Sweetheart?”

You jolted, a squeak fell off your mouth. When you turned around to see him, your boyfriend was staring at you with a bratty grin on his face.

“Hey!” Flushed, you slapped him on the chest. “I didn’t tell you to look.”

“You told me not to look when you took your clothes off. You didn’t say anything about me staring at my cute girlfriend having the biggest crisis of her life.” His little laughter was just as annoying as it was charming. “Come here, I’ll help you.”

Your pride wouldn’t let you but you had spent minutes trying to break free from your stupid dress with no satisfying result so, with a heavy heart and a prominent scowl on your face, you bent down, leaning close to him until he could let his hand roam along your locks.

“This is so stupid,” you grumbled.

“I think it’s cute,” he chuckled, carefully unwinding the strands from your zipper. “This is the cutest you’ve ever been to me.”

You blushed slightly. Trying to avert your attention away, you began to focus on the sight in front of you. Pressed against his chest, your face was almost buried in the crook of his neck. You took the chance to press soft kisses on the cold skin, running your fingertips down from his collarbone to his navel. 

“There, done,” he said, tossing the dress away without a care. He sounded a bit breathily when your teeth grazed against his neck. “Let’s not waste any more time. Come here, I need you.” The way he tugged you toward him by your elbow was firm but not forceful. And no matter how much you had kissed him already, he still loved the way you moved your lips against his and never wanted it to stop.

Being on top of him didn’t necessarily mean you were in control. Even with one hand tied, Donghyuck knew how to lead, whispering guidance here and there, sometimes in the way that made you blush from how specific his orders were. Before you knew it, you were both fully naked, with you sitting on his thighs, stroking at his length as directed.

Donghyuck shivered under your touch, his eyes half-lidded in pleasure. “You—” He had to nip on his bottom lip to contain his groan when you swiped your thumb along his slit. “You don’t happen to have any lube with you, do you?”

You were so captivated by the way he looked, all needy under your fingers, that he had to call you by your name to gather your focus back to his question. “Oh, n-no. Why?” You stroked him faster, curling your fingers a little bit tighter around his length.

Donghyuck threw his head back, eyebrows adjoined in the middle. “Fuck,” he hissed, eyes glazed and when they peered back into yours, they were glowing brightly in topaz—almost golden, and brighter from the dim lighting of his room. “Well then,” he heaved, wetting his lip. “I guess, we’ll do it the old school way. Turn your body around for me.”

“What?”

“I want to be romantic and use pretty words, but desperate times need desperate measures so get your ass over here,” he gestured with his hand for you to come over to his face, “and your face over there.”

Steam practically came out of your ears from how ashamed you were. “What?!”

“I need to make you wet and you need to coat my dick with saliva so it won’t hurt when I get inside you.”

He wasn’t joking when he said he wasn’t going to be romantic about it. How the fuck can he say something like that so easily?! “I—I can’t,” you were practically wheezing, “It’s too embarrassing—I—”

“If you don’t want to suck my dick, you can just spit on your hand and—”

“I’m more worried about sitting on your face—”

“Oh, no need to worry about that.” He gave you a reassuring smile which somehow upsets you even more. “It’s actually something I’ve been imagining to happen—”

“Oh my God—”

“Would you stop freaking-out and listen to me, please?” He was laughing and you were having a seizure. “Babe, relax. Trust me, it will feel good.”

You had no doubts about that but still, it didn’t suddenly make it easy for you to just naturally sit on his face. But to be honest, the thought of it was as exciting as it was embarrassing and with Donghyuck being relaxed about it—not making this into such a big deal, unlike how Mark reacted when anything sexual occurred—you couldn’t help but succumb to your own curiosity.

“Okay,” you pressed a hand against your chest. “Just let me calm myself down a little.”

He suppressed a smile. “You’re having a crisis again?”

“Shut up.”

No matter how much you tried to compose yourself, you couldn’t. You became even more nervous, and you thought that wasn’t possible. The naughty twinkle in Donghyuck’s eyes gradually turned tender and he reached out a hand. “Here, let me help you relax.” 

You let him take hold of your wrist, bringing it to his face. He kissed your inner palm before he dragged his lips down to your wrist, his eyes peering into yours as he did it. You could feel his lips turning into a faint smile as they grazed your skin but on the next second, he bared his teeth, extended his fangs, and punctured your skin with them.

“Hyuck—” You yelped from the pain but soon began to lose yourself to the ecstasy of his bite. You could feel all the knots in your body started to loosen one-by-one, your mind becoming hazy with bliss. 

Donghyuck didn’t sink his teeth too deep and didn’t drink too much, only a gulp and nothing more even when his eyes were glowing bright, gravely needing another taste of your blood. He lapped at the wound, kissing the bite mark he made on your skin. “How do you feel?”

“I’m…” Your eyes began to droop, blinking slowly. “Great…. I feel great…”

He chuckled at your words. “That’s good to hear,” he said, “Now turn around and lower yourself on my face.”

You could barely hear him but you got the picture. As if hypnotized, you felt your body moved even before you could finish your thought. Donghyuck’s free hand was placed on the inner part of your thigh as you hovered above his head, spreading your legs apart. “Come down here, Sweetheart, I don’t bite.” You couldn’t see his face but you could tell he was smirking, and if you weren’t this intoxicated, you would’ve smacked him with the nearest pillow over his poor choice of words. But the effects of his bite and the rush of endorphin that were still coursing through your veins made you follow his commands without further question.

You were balancing yourself with your hands on his stomach as he ran his tongue along your folds, tasting you just a little bit but you already shivered at the sensation. “Hyuck…”

He hummed in response, sounding like he was having the time of his life, pushing your thigh further apart so you could lower yourself more, his tongue dipping into your heat this time.

You were going insane, you could feel it. Breathing heavily, you decided to focus on a task at hand. You curled your fingers around his length, thumb brushing against the slit again because you knew how much he liked it before, and you could feel him moan before you could hear him.

You gave a tentative lick on the head, kissing his tip before running your tongue along the vein. Your fingers were stroking the area your tongue didn’t cover and you could hear him purring in content. After a brief second of self-preparation, you parted your lips and tried to go down on him in one try. Donghyuck threw his head back against the sheet, groaning loudly between a train of expletives, so sexy and obscene. 

Hearing his moans encouraged you to do better so you tried to swallow him whole again. You could feel his tip hitting the back of your throat, making you tear up a little bit from the discomfort but you hollowed your cheeks and swallowed around him.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Donghyuck swore, his grip around your thigh grew tighter that it made you flinch but you continued with your ministration, bringing your hand into the game this time. It was so exciting, the sensation of having him dissolve into a groaning mess under your touch so you stroked him faster, sucked him harder, and continued even when he was practically whimpering in ecstasy.

As an act of revenge, Donghyuck licked his way deep into you with his free hand pumping a finger inside you and adding another one soon after. When you moaned around him, it urged him to go faster, his digits were now scissoring inside of you.

You were practically crying by the time he told you to stop, urging you to turn around to face him because “I want to see your face when you come.” You positioned yourself on top of his length, cheeks bright red from all the passion and lust you have swirling inside your chest, and slowly sank yourself down.

Donghyuck’s handcuff was rattling against the headboard as he reeled in the sensation. His fangs were extended once again, his eyes glowing almost dangerously as he gazed at you from behind his bangs. “Fuck, you’re so—“ he hissed, his eyes going down to the part where you were connected to him. “How can you be so sexy without trying—”

The way he twitched inside of you made you quiver, and you tumbled down to his chest, your face closing in on him. He met you halfway when you sent him a signal to kiss you, smothering you with his lips, wet with tongues and painted with both desperation and urgency.

“Move,” he ordered, his voice suddenly turning low and perilous. “Baby, move for me, please.”

You granted his wish, wincing at the feeling of him growing larger inside you. The friction still burned so you tried to muffle your cry with his kisses, but after a few shallow thrusts, you could finally feel yourself relaxing, adjusting to his length.

“Faster,” he urged, unconsciously tried to hold your hips with both hands and groaned loudly when his handcuff pulled his hand back to the headboard. “Dammit. Baby, please, move faster.”

“Be patient,” you said between small gasps. Your nails were almost sinking to his chest. “It’s only my second time, Hyuck. Let me do it at my own pace.”

He initially groaned in protest, eyes tightly shut with his eyebrows furrowed but when he managed to collect himself, he apologized, "You're right, I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm so hasty, you just make me feel so—" His jaw hung low when he felt you move, and by the time you began to clench your walls around him, he took his bottom lip between his teeth, leaning his head back against the headboard, relishing the moment.

As you steadied yourself with your hands on his chest, grinding your hips against him, you admired the details of his profile—his sultry half-lidded eyes, his plump lips, his cute front teeth that peeked out when he parted his lips in a silent moan, the tiny moles on his jaw and neck. He was both handsome and cute, and you were lucky—so damn lucky—to be able to witness these details with your own eyes.

“Fuck, I can’t—“ His voice startled you, snapping you out from your reverie. “I can’t do it like this. I’m gonna go crazy. Can you get off for a second?”

You were frowning but his urgency made you follow with a nod. You let him slid off of you, wincing slightly at both the pain and the loss of him. Donghyuck shifted his body until he was sitting on the bed, his spine pressed against the headboard. “Okay, come here,” he said, patting his thigh twice. You crawled over to his lap as requested, sitting on your knees as he held his length in one hand, positioning it over your entrance. You lowered yourself down, adjusting to his size once again and wrapping your arms around his neck for support.

“I can never get used to the feeling of you taking me in like that,” he murmured against your ear. “You’re so fucking tight.”

The new position allowed you to embrace him properly and you took advantage of it, meshing your lips with him as you bounced up and down, your breasts pressing against his chest. His free hand was urging you to move faster, nails sinking into the skin and you complied, trying to move as fast you can. “Yes,” he moaned, mouthing against your shoulder. “Just like that. You’re so good.”

The sounds he was making were so erotic that they made you weak. When he felt your movements gradually became slower, he began to buck his hips forward, thrusting into you hard while holding you firmly with one hand. 

He nearly broke his handcuff from how desperate he was in wanting to hold you tightly with both hands, fucking you senselessly like how did with you before in the bathroom. But the way the steel was nearly sinking into his skin reminded him of the sole purpose of having it around his wrist. Feeling restrained only made his thrusts grow even more frantic, pushing your hips down to meet his at such a quick pace.

“Wait—” Taken by surprise, you clutched your arms tightly around him. “Hyuck—”

He suddenly sank his teeth on the skin under your jaw, between the earlobe and the collarbone and you nearly jumped out of your skin. For half an instant, it was agonizing. Painful and horrible. And then, just like that, the pain disappeared. He swallowed twice, moaning against your skin, his thrusts going out of rhythm. 

The rush of endorphin helped to push you to the brink, clouding your thoughts and you couldn't tell where your body ended and his began but it didn't matter. That was how you always wanted it to be anyway. Donghyuck's lascivious grunts tugged on your heartstrings and with a couple of his hard thrusts, you began to shake. "H-Hyuck, I think I'm gonna—"

His mouth was still on your neck, now sucking bruises with his cuspids threatening to puncture. "Come, baby."

You came undone, body trembling with the biggest orgasm you’d ever felt. Donghyuck moaned your name against your ear when he felt you clenching and shaking around him. “God, that felt so good,” he said, still moving his hips, not caring if you were still sensitive after your orgasm. “You feel so good around me. Fuck, I want to do this again and again—I want to feel you more—I want to break you—”

And when his hips began to stutter, you knew he was close. He pulled you into a messy kiss where you could taste copper on his tongue but you didn’t mind and bounced faster on his lap, driving him to the edge.

You were startled by the sound of him breaking free from his handcuff with a hard yank of his wrist, but before you could react, he was pushing you off his lap, forcing you to stand with your knees on the bed, facing the headboard. Still reveling in the aftershock of your orgasm, your legs almost gave out on you so you placed both hands on the wall for support. "Hyuck—"

He was almost growling when he placed both hands on your hips and pushed himself back in a way that was so forceful, you ended up having your upper body pressed against the wall. He brought your hips closer to his, his tongue trailed against the dip of your spine, and you begged him to, "S-slow down, I just came—" but all that he did was the opposite. He snapped his hips forward, knocking the breath out of your lungs with each pound while murmuring, "Just a little bit more, baby," with so much lust and avidity. You gritted your teeth, curling your fingers against the railing of your headboard as if you were hanging on for dear life. Everything felt so good, so fucking good that you began to part your mouth in a silent scream. 

With his head dangling forward, glowing eyes covered with his fringe, and your name tumbling down his lips in a soft, throaty moan, he came.

***

“How are you feeling?”

Dazed and completely fucked-out, you thought, but only answered with, “Tired.”

“Are you hurt somewhere?”

You shook your head.

“Thank God,” Donghyuck pulled you closer by the waist, both of your naked bodies were buried under the blanket. “I kind of lost control at the end.” He sheepishly chuckled at himself. “You were so hot when you came.”

“Shut up.” But that only made him laugh a bit louder. He pried your hands away before you could bury your face in them and cupped your cheek so you could do nothing but stare back at him.

“Is it too fast to say I love you?” He asked and his eyes were sincere but you were too embarrassed to respond properly so you pushed your palm to his face, pushing him away.

“Of course, it’s too fast. We’ve only started dating for like what, two weeks?” But the way your heart almost leaped in joy betrayed you. You turned away from him, focusing your gaze on the bed lamp on his nightstand instead of his face. “If you tell me in like a year or something, maybe I’ll believe you.”

His laughter was warm, a stark contrast to how his skin felt under your touch. He leaned close, lips brushing against your hair as he embraced you close to his chest. “Then I’ll say it every day until you say it back to me next year,” he said, voice gentle and sincere. “I love you, baby.”

“Ugh, you’re gross.”

“There you go, playing hard to get again.” He whispered the next words with his lips brushing your earlobe. “Your ears are going red, though.”

“I’m going to kick you.”

“Well, I’m going to love you.”

But you kicked him anyway. The playful punches and kicks under the blanket managed to ease the tension, and before long, you were back to exchanging nonsensical banters with him again. The sunrise was still three hours away and even though your eyes were a bit heavy with sleep, your body exhausted beyond belief, you tried to keep yourself awake to spend a moment longer with him. You didn’t have any schedule the next morning anyway, so you could sleep to make up for the time you spent.

“Hyuck?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s… something I’ve been wanting to ask you for a while but I couldn’t since I felt so embarrassed about it.”

“Oh? It’s not often you’re honest like this.” He smirked, pushing the bangs out of your eyes. “What is it?”

“Did you…” You cleared your throat, trying not to be awkward. “Did you get to come when we had sex the first time?”

He blinked twice, startled. “Oh… I didn’t, actually.” He timidly smiled. “You kind of passed out during that time and I didn’t have the heart to continue so I just carried you back to your room.”

With cheeks turning scarlet, you squeezing his hand. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He pecked you on the nose. “It was my fault anyway. I shouldn’t have taken so much of your blood.” He gradually grew more serious. “I guess I’ve never thanked you for that, huh?” He tucked some strands of your hair behind your ear. “Thank you for giving me your blood. You’re literally the reason why I’m still alive to this day.”

“You’re welcome.” You mirrored his smile. “I have two other questions if you don’t mind.”

“Shoot.”

“Can vampires actually come?” You had to look away, noticing how stupid your questions was and added, “I mean, like, properly? Like humans do?”

“What, you didn’t feel it when I came inside you just now?”

You blushed madly. “I was too dizzy from the bite to notice.”

“Right, you passed out too. Again.” And before you could shout out your protest, he muffled your lips with his. “Of course, we can, Sweetheart. What, are you interested in making me come again?”

You gulped. “M-maybe later.” When you noticed him raising an eyebrow, you mentally slap yourself in the face.” I-I mean, not that I’m suggesting we should have sex again after this—”

“Oh? I was willing, though.” His godforsaken smirk should be banned from this world. Earning another punch to his stomach, he asked with a wince, “What’s the other question?”

You were still pouting from before but you asked, “Can vampires impregnate humans?”

“So eager to have my baby already? Two weeks in our relationship? Really?”

“Do you want to be punched again?”

“By your lips? Yes, plea—Aaw, hey, that hurts!” As he tried to soothe the pain away from the punch you landed on his chest, he added, “To answer your question, no. We don’t breed that way. Vampires are turned, not born.”

“How can you be so sure?”

He laughed. “Trust me, if vampires could get humans pregnant, then I would father hundreds of Hyuck babies by now.”

The thought of him having sexual relationships with other women in a way that was probably much hotter than yours made your heart drop to your stomach. There was an unfamiliar pain in your chest, pumping jealousy and resentment to your veins, clouding your thoughts with images of him lying in bed with naked women.

You turned away to face the ceiling, not saying a word. Donghyuck seemed to notice the way you got all tense and rigid so he laced your fingers with his, bringing your knuckles to his lips. “There’s only you now, you know that, right? For me, there’s only you.”

 You nodded but only so slightly, still felt uneasy. You knew that it wouldn’t be fair to be mad at him about this—it’s not like he was cheating behind your back. And he’d lived for more than a century, of course, he had plenty of both romantic and sexual relationships. You were just upset because he was your first and that meant the whole world to you, but you weren’t even included in the top 10—or 100, even.

Donghyuck eyed you in concern and carefully wrapped an arm around your stomach, fingertips trailing around your navel. “Did you realize that,” he began, voice soft and tender, “a few months before we started dating, I stopped bringing girls to our apartment? I switched entirely to blood bags to the point I had to spend all my money. Do you know why I did that?”

You turned to him, snuggling close but still wasn’t brave enough to make eye contact. “Why?”

He had his lips brushed against your temple as he spoke. “Because it felt wrong. Every time I got together with someone, I thought about you. When I drank their blood, I thought about how your blood would taste like in my mouth. When I held them, I thought about what kind of face would you make as you writhed underneath me. When they moaned out my name, I thought about how hot would it be if it tumbled out from your lips instead. You, with that cute voice of yours.”

You blushed from ear-to-ear. “I-Is that so…”

He smiled a little, probably noticing how loudly your heart was thumping inside your chest. “I had to stop entirely when I accidentally moaned your name during sex. Man, she was so pissed.”

You nearly fainted from the sheer embarrassment. “How can you say these things so nonchalantly?”

“I’m actually pretty shy about it.” And this time he did sound sheepish. He lowered his head down, lips lingering close, nearly grazing the vein that beats faintly under your neck. “So don’t think about my past too much, because I’ve been thinking about you—only you—for a while now.”

You shivered, his lips ghosting over your skin. “Cool.”

Donghyuck pulled away, scrunched up his nose. “Cool?”

“Yeah.”

“I literally just poured all my feelings out to you, embarrassingly so, and your response is cool?”

You gave him your signature ignorant shrug. “Well, I’ve known for a while that you had a crush on me. I’m flattered. Thanks.”

“You’re so—” He attacked you with playful pokes and tickles, hands fumbling all over the place until you both ended up falling from the bed, laughing against each other’s mouth.

***

“Babe, you ready?”

You push your door open at the sound of his call, still struggling with tidying your bangs so they can frame your face perfectly. You’re about to go on a date with your boyfriend and this is the first time he actually asks you out properly. You’ve gone out many times with him before but it was always either to shop for groceries or have dinner in the cheap Chinese restaurant nearby.

So you kind of dressed up all the way, curling your hair and tying it up in a perfect ponytail—because you know just how much he likes seeing your neck exposed—wearing minimal make-up but with bright red lipstick, and a matching red off-shoulder dress that highlights your collarbones. 

“Do you think this is too much?” You ask from the bathroom, still busy trying to put on your earring. When you’re done, you walk back to the living room, approaching his spot. “You haven’t told me where we’re going so I’m not sure what to wear—” You catch the way he’s looking at you, wide-eyed with lips parted in awe. “W-what is it? Are you thirsty again?”

He blinks himself awake. “For blood? Nope. For you?” He’s not subtle at all with his staring, eyes going up and down your body, committing every feature to his memory. “Parched.”

“If you’re gonna be this embarrassing the whole date, I’d choose to stay home, thank you very much.”

“What, can’t a man appreciate his girlfriend’s beauty?”

“Sometimes just a simple, you look nice, is enough.”

He chuckles softly, closing the space between you and running his thumb along your cheekbone as he cups your face. “I want to kiss you and ruin your lipstick so badly,” he murmurs, eyes almost glowing. The way he brings his lower lip between his teeth as he stares at you in a daze makes your stomach flip in delight. “But you look very beautiful right now and it would be a waste. I’ll wait until the end of our date. Then, I’ll savor every bit of you.” He leans in to whisper close in your ear, his smirk grazing against your earlobe. “In any way possible.”

You yank him by the hand, pulling him towards the door. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.”

You can’t wait until your date is over.

***

Donghyuck reeks with charms and allures. You notice that, certainly, but unfortunately for you, so do other people because he is gathering attention from every woman he passes by on the street—even some men. He’s just walking along the pavements in his black ripped jeans and denim jacket, but he makes it look like a fashion show. He’s deep in concentration, thumb sliding on his phone’s screen as he searches for the location of the place he’s planning to take you. His brooding look makes you swoon but you try to be subtle about it, unlike those females who pass by, practically undressing him with their eyes.

You’re uncomfortable and jealous but you try to keep yourself composed. “Is it far from here?”

“Just a couple of blocks,” he answers, smiling as he tucks his phone back. “Are you hungry? Do you want to stop by and grab some dinner before we go?”

You’ve lost your appetite. “I’ll eat on our way back.”

“You sure?”

You respond with a nod but he seems worried. You notice some people whispering behind your back, questioning with a mocking tone about your status with this God-like male in front of you and you couldn’t help but to sigh. “Can we go now?” Your tone sounds a bit cold even to your own ears, and you feel sorry because this is not how you planned your date night to go.

Donghyuck must have noticed the silent chatters, or at least, the hurting look on your face. Taking a hold of your wrist, he pulls you forward until you stumble to his chest and kisses your lips. You swear you could hear people gasping at that, but you don’t care. You don’t care that he’s kissing you in public, on the side of the street, with his hand secured tightly around your waist. You don’t care if your lipstick is ruined, though he kisses you softly to make sure it stays intact. And you don’t care if people are questioning his sanity for dating a girl like you because Donghyuck belongs to you and he’s proud of showing that to the world.

When he lets you go, your lips are curving up into a grin, cheeks reddening both from the cold and his touch. “You have lipstick on you,” you say, tiptoeing on your feet to brush the stain off his lips with your thumb, and Donghyuck, with that sexy, mischievous twinkle in his eyes, parts his lips, playfully placing your thumb between his teeth just a second before he lets it slide away. Your head is about to explode from how sexy he just looked and he chuckles at the sight, pecking you on the forehead once. “Let’s go, baby.” He strokes your hair before he lets his hand slide down to your waist again, walking next to you with your body pressed close to his side.

It turns out your boyfriend is taking you to a photo studio which is quite huge for a normal photo shoot. As you see so many staff, models, and photographers around you, walking back-and-forth in the studio to make sure everything is in order, you begin to realize. “Are you—”

“Yep,” he beams at you, proudly. “I’ve got a modeling gig.” 

Your eyes grow wide because by the brand logo that you see plastered all over the place—on the back of the chairs, the doors, embossed in articles of clothing—it’s one of the top designer brands in the country. “What—how��” You’re flabbergasted. “How did you get this job?”

“I got cast on the street.” He simply shrugs. “It’s a one-time gig though, so nothing serious. But it is my first time so I’m pretty nervous about it, which is why I brought you along.” He swats the bangs out of your eyes, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry. This is probably not how you imagined our date night was going to be.”

“No, but this is better.” Your eyes are scanning the place. “Look at all these models! They’re so beautiful—Oh my God, I know him!” You almost jump on your feet at the sight of a famous model getting his hair fixed by his stylist. “Isn’t he the one who was on the cover of W Magazine last month? Oh my God.”

“Hey, hey, hey, hey,” Donghyuck pulls you back by the fabric of your dress. “I didn’t invite you to ogle at another man’s body.”

“It’s not his body, Hyuck. It’s his face, look at him!” You gesture toward the man with a sigh. “Look at those cheekbones, sweet Lord. His jawline has me feeling like sliced bread.”

Donghyuck snorts loudly. “Are you an idiot?”

“Might as well be. Can you get me his autograph?”

“I’m leaving.” And he really walks away, just like that, with his hands tucked inside the pocket of his jeans, and a scowl on his face.

“Wait, I’m sorry,” you hurriedly say, taking a hold of his arm. “Good luck with the photo shoot. I know you’d be amazing.”

He’s still not happy when he looks at you but he sighs, patting your head. “Thanks. You can wait for me in the hall. I think they have snacks and stuff.”

“Can’t I just linger around here?”

“To see me or to see him?”

“To see you, of course.” There’s no hesitation in your voice. “Seeing him is just a bonus. You’re my number one, Hyuck.”

He leers at you with suspicious eyes, still not one hundred percent pleased or convinced. “Well, I have to go. I need to change and get my make-up done.”

“Wait.” you hold him back again. “Do these people here know you’re, you know, not human?”

“No, and I intend to keep it that way. So, if you could just not mention it again, that’d help.”

You nod but when he’s about to part ways again, you reach out to him once more. 

“What?” He whines, groaning. “I really have to—”

You stand on your toes and interrupt him with a kiss, hands winding around his neck. It’s just your lips meeting his for a few seconds and nothing more, but it’s still painted thickly with passion and desire.

“Good luck,” you whisper with a shy smile. He’s left a bit dazed but eventually nods his head. When he walks away, he rubs his nape, a gesture he tends to make whenever he’s flustered. You grin proudly to yourself. He’s wrapped around your fingers just as much as you are around his.

After half an hour has passed, you see Donghyuck walking back into the studio in a new outfit that makes him look so goddamn attractive that it literally steals your breath away.  He’s wearing all black, from his turtle neck shirt, his khaki pants, his suit, even his hair looks somehow darker. He’s absolutely gorgeous, even the male photographer has to stop and stare for a good few seconds before he remembers to adjust his lenses.

Donghyuck poses naturally in front of the camera and it startles you how a simple pose could look so beautiful when it’s done by him. He unbuttons his suit, lets it falls off his shoulder, his eyes half-lidded as he stares into the camera—everything that he does reeks masculinity and femininity at the same time and you don’t know if that’s even possible. You’ve known that his body proportions are insane but this outfit just highlights every inch of his body that needs to be appreciated. 

A staff hands him a rose and he brings it close to his face, his lips grazing against the petal—making him look like a painting. His usual cheeky grin has vanished without a trace and the way he stares back at the camera—both enchanting and challenging—sends shivers down your spine.

Fuck, how is he so hot?

Two hours long photoshoot feels like a minute to you and you’re feeling a bit dazed when it’s over. Donghyuck walks over to your spot, pushing up his long sleeves to his elbows. “Hey,” he says, smiling a little. “Sorry, did I make you wait long?”

“Oh… Umm…” You’re blushing and you don’t know why. You’re just suddenly overwhelmed with his presence. “Y-you were…” Fantastic. Breathtaking. Absolutely gorgeous. Please take me home and have me as dessert. “You were good.”

“Good?” He raises an eyebrow, making you gulp. “That’s it?”

“I…” Your fingers are curling against the fabric of your dress. “You were great.”

Donghyuck seems a bit amused until he realizes something. He leans close, making you flinch when he takes a sniff near your neck. “Why do you smell like you’re…” A smirk creeps up his face. “Aroused?”

Yes, okay, just kill me. Kill me now. “I’m not—”

“Seems like someone is enjoying this photoshoot too much.”

You’re about to combust into flames. “Are you done? Can we go home now?”

“You want to go home? And do what?” He bites the corner of his lip as he tries to contain his grin. “Enlighten me, Baby.”

He’s seducing you, torturing you, and he’s enjoying every second of it. “Fine, then. I’ll walk home by myself.”

But as you turn around on your heels, Donghyuck grabs you by the wrist and pulls you forward to match his step, going in the opposite direction of where you were planning to go. “Wha—where are you taking me?!”

He shushes you quickly and makes a turn, barging into one of the changing rooms that models often use to get prepared for the photoshoot. The room is bright with fluorescent lights, though not as spacious as you’d thought it would be, but the only thing that matters now is that it’s unoccupied. 

Donghyuck kicks the door closed with his feet before he pushes you against it, lips meeting you in a searing kiss as he locks the door behind you. “Your scent,” he breathlessly says against your mouth, running his tongue along your lower lip. “It’s so thick with lust.” If it’s as thick as the teasing tone in his voice, you’re so doomed. “Are you okay, baby?”

“Shut up.” You kiss him, fisting the fabric of his shirt before you pull it off his head. Your hands immediately go down to his chest, caressing his stomach before they circle his neck again. “If we’re gonna do this then hurry up and fuck me.”

A small laugh reverberates from his chest. “So aggressive. And to think you were so shy yesterday.”

“Shut up. Does sex usually involve this much talking?”

“With me, it does.” He purrs against your ear, tugging your earlobe between his teeth. “Because then I get to see more of your expressions.” His tongue feels hot and dangerous on your sensitive skin. “You’re so fucking cute when you blush, but you being aggressive like this isn’t too bad.”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up.” You’re already dying from shame and his unnecessary comments only fuel it even more. “Are we really—” you gasp when he pushes you up the wall, and you quickly tangle your legs around his waist for balance, the back of your red heels pressing against his spine. “Are we really doing this? Here?”

“Of course, we’re doing this.” His hands are sliding dangerously along your thighs, pushing the fabric of your dress up your body until it pools around your waist. “I’ve been wanting to do this ever since you laid your eyes on him.”

“What—” You throw your head back, making a soft thud when it meets the door. Hopefully, no one catches that. “You mean that model? I was just kidding—”

“Kidding?” He slips two of his fingers inside his mouth, coating them with saliva and it’s so sensual, the sight of him, that only seeing him do that already makes you feel sinful. He slides his hand down between your legs, wet fingers immediately finding their way to your heat from the side of your lingerie. “I don’t think it was funny.” He inserts his first digit, making you sink your nails into his shoulders. “Do you, baby?”

You’re breathing hard, temple pressing against his. When he feels you stretched enough, he adds another one. “Baby, I asked you a question,” he chuckles, scissoring his fingers inside you. “Do you think it was funny?”

“No.” You shake your head, a sob nearly escapes your lips.  The mixed feelings of being dominated, teased and pleasured at the same time make you feel lightheaded, and he hasn’t even drunk from you yet. “I-I’m sorry.”

“Aaw, but I’m not mad,” he coos, kissing you softly on the corner of your lips. “I’m a bit pissed-off but certainly not angry.”

His words are doing very little in reassuring you but you’re too busy focusing on the way he’s pumping his fingers in and out, his thumb rubbing fervently against your clit. “Hyuck—”

“Sssh.” He perks up, his movements stop abruptly. “Someone’s here.”

You mouth What?! in horror, about to shove him away so you can land back on your feet and fix your clothes and hair but he keeps you still. He presses his body harder, one hand holding the back of your thigh while his other one still lingers near your lingerie. There’s absolutely no way you can fight his superhuman strength.

Within the next few seconds, you can hear the clicking of heels meeting the marbled floor and you hold your breath, fingers shaking but the rest of your body is still. Donghyuck keeps his gaze on you, his eyes unwavering as he tries to read the situation.

“Hey, it’s locked. Why is it locked?”

“I don’t know. It wasn’t locked before.”

Two female voices can be heard from exactly behind you and you’re about to break out in a cold sweat. If you breathe just a little bit harder, they probably can hear you. Donghyuck notices the way your breathing tatters and with a gleam in his eyes, he smirks.

And moves his fingers again.

Your hand immediately shifts from his shoulder to his wrist, trying desperately to keep it from moving. Your eyes are throwing ice daggers as you mouth don’t you fucking dare to him but his sly grin only gets wider. He leans in to pepper sultry kisses on your jawline, up to your ear, whispering, “Keep your voice down.” And though he speaks reassurance, his fingers are not.

He slides one between your folds, tentatively pressing into your heat before he drags it back, heel continues to add pressure to your clit. It’s when he inserts the digit back into you that you begin to flinch. He helps muffle your voice down with his kisses first but when you truly need to be silenced, he pulls away, enjoying the view of your cheeks turning scarlet, bangs sticking to your temple with sweat, and adding another finger into your warmth.

“So cute,” he whispers, his eyes are starting to glow. You notice that their color changes depending on what he’s feeling.  They glow when he’s thirsty, that much is obvious, but there’s also one other condition. The more he’s aroused, the brighter they get, almost turning topaz entirely, and soon his cuspids will follow, extending to take a bite. He still has his fangs retracted, but his eyes are gradually gleaming brighter as he takes in your expressions. “So pretty…” The way he praises you is almost like he’s in a haze. “I love seeing you like this.”

“What to do? My purse is inside.”

“Shall we ask around for the key?”

You’re so scared, terrified beyond belief and Donghyuck is savoring every moment of you trying to contain your moans. “Aaw, they’re going to open the door,” he murmurs against your ear. “What do you think we should do, baby?”

Fuck if I know. Your eyes are closed shut, your fingers curling against his nape. He licks a stripe up your neck, moaning softly from the desire to fill his mouth with your blood. “I know one thing for sure,” he swallows, wetting his lip. “I need to make you come first.”

Donghyuck always lives up to his promise. He knows what he’s doing and it feels extremely pleasant having his fingers deep inside you but you can’t give yourself into the pleasure entirely from the fear of being caught. But as he goes faster, now focusing more on playing with your clit, you feel fire coursing through your veins, loosening the knot in your stomach, and out of panic, you bite him hard on the part where his neck meets his shoulder, muffling your moan as you come onto his hand.

You can feel him flinching, a low grunt erupting from the back of his throat but you’re too dazed to notice. When the aftertaste of your orgasm starts to decrease, Donghyuck lets you down to the floor. You have to keep your hold on him as your legs wobble under your weight and when you look up, you see him with his fangs fully extended, his eyes glowing as bright as the sun.

“Hyuck—“ He bites into your skin without permission, and he does it fiercely, sloppily, that your blood begins to taint your dress. You’re grateful that it’s at least in the same color as your blood so a few drops won’t be noticed. The rush of endorphin calms your nerves, almost leaving your senses dull and you slide down to the floor, your spine still pressed against the door.

When he pulls away, he lets his tongue runs along his lower lip, wiping it clean from your blood. His eyes are strictly golden.

“My turn now.”

***

[dollediary]

I Could Make You Feel Better.

jake x fem!reader

overview: female masturbation, dry humping, mutual masturbation(?)

word count: 2.6k

not proof read, so don't mind typos or grammatical errors too much <3

"seriously?!" jake asked you in disbelief. you nodded shyly, feeling your cheeks heat up while he only made a face. "i don't believe it, y/n."

"im serious!" you protested. it may have been hard to believe, but it was true. "really..... i've never...touched myself before," your voice was low as you looked away.

"so let me get this straight. you let me touch you before you could even touch yourself?" he asked, bringing up the time you let him play with you when you two went to the movie theater.

it was a time frame where you two were taking your first steps toward being sexually intimate in public, for the thrill of it, though it was more so for fun rather than something you planned on really getting into.

you shrugged, making him look at you crazy. you guys had done many things in terms of being sexual together such as watching porn together on rave, sexting, sending nudes, etc.

all those times, he's made it clear that he masturbates to and because of you.... he had assumed you did the same. it was a shock to him.

"what?" you laughed, looking at him while he was silent in thought. he had so many questions, so many words he wanted to say but he didn't know how to.

"so do i like... not make you horny or...?" he let his question trail off as he bit his bottom lip, feeling embarrassed to even ask in the first place. you smiled and raised an eyebrow.

"of course i get horny, dumbass," you rolled your eyes."if i didn't enjoy it, i wouldn't keep doing it with you. i like how wet you make me," you responded though he still didn't understand. he sat up properly on the bed and scooted closer to you.

"what do you do to please yourself, then???" jaeyun was an avid masturbator. he probably became more addicted to it after the two of you started sending nudes to each other.

he went from various tabs on pornhub, xvideos, etc., to only relieving himself to your pictures and videos... which really amplified the results. to think you haven't done the same with him is crazy.

"i thought what we did was pleasure on its own, i never really felt the need to do anything more," you shrugged, crossing your legs. he looked at you and licked his lips.

"you should try it, and use the videos i sent you while you're at it," he said, biting his bottom lip. you nodded slightly and picked your phone up to look at the time.

"i should get going, don't like leaving the pet home alone too long," you said, getting up from his bed, he nodded and got up with you walking behind you to the door.

he gave you a kiss before you left and continued thinking about the conversation you two just had as he walked back to his room. needless to say, he let his mind and hand wander.

-

you and jaeyun were laying down on his bed watching t.v. the two of you hadn't been doing anything special, and frankly you were still sweaty from a hot day at work.

you would've showered sooner, but he insisted you lay with him as a "sorry" for being too busy working overtime to spend time with him.

hating the fact that you had been basically sitting in your own filth for maybe the past thirty minutes, you decided to get up and shower. "you got some clothes i can put on?" you asked.

"yeah, go ahead. i'll have em at the bottom of the bed for you," he said not even looking at you...too indulged in the screen i guess. you nodded and grabbed your phone as you made your way into the bathroom.

when you got in there, you undressed yourself, ran a bubble bath, and put a towel out to use when you were done. you went to grab your phone to turn on some music, looking at your wallpaper that was a picture you took of him.

...maybe i should try now? you thought to yourself. you locked the door quietly and slipped into the steamy tub opening your locked images in your gallery going to the folder you made of his pics and vids.

you went to one of his most recent nut videos he sent you, when you guys were exchanging nudes, and played it. your eyes watched intently, trying to take in everything that was going on as if you were seeing it for the first time.

you watched as his hand slowly stroked his cock in an up and down motion, tightening once it was at the top and such. you turned the volume up to hear his small grunts and shaky breaths he let out as he kept going.

you felt a small electric in your stomach and took your free hand to take a quick swipe down to see you were getting wet. you opened your legs, deciding to just get it out the way. and thank god jake loved filming long videos.

you used your finger to turn the volume up more as you let your hand trail down to your clit as you started rubbing slow circles to match the pace he was going. your breathing became irregular as you sped up to keep up with him.

your body, wanting to climax when he does, started forming a knot in your stomach as you felt yourself start shaking. seeing from the video, he was shaking and getting louder, ready to bust.

you bit your lip and kept his speed up feeling yourself getting ready to cum, his hand started shaking the same way yours were as his semen spit out with every stroke he made, though he stopped after a few.

you kept going, closing your eyes as you forced your high out to its fullest extent, twitching more as you bit your lip harder. after a few more seconds of that, you stopped and pulled your hand away feeling the last seconds of pleasure left behind.

you let your breathing go back to normal as you looked at the remainder of the video, which was jake turning the camera around to give you a corny ass smile with a thumbs up.

you rolled your eyes and exited out of your gallery, putting your phone aside as you watched yourself up completely. after you finished, you got out of the tub and wrapped yourself up, walking out the bathroom to see jake had put some clothes for you to wear at the bottom of the bed.

you unfolded the towel and dried yourself off while he watched you intently from his spot. you looked over to him and smiled as he quickly looked away, biting his lip.

you finished getting dressed and laid down next to him on the bed, burying your face into his side. "you smell good," you mumbled into his shirt. he hummed in response.

"pay attention to me, jaeyun...i did it," you mumbled again. he turned to look down at you to see you had a cheeky smile on your face as you looked back up at him.

"did what?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. your smile only grew wider as you closed your eyes thinking back to that amazing feeling you felt, though you couldn't recreate it to its fullest extent.

"i masturbated~" you sang out. "and to that video you sent last week, it felt so good. i think i overstimulated, too," you continued, though he didn't seem to care so much. he only responded with a shrug and looked back to the t.v.

"how do you know if you really came, though?" he laughed, not even looking your way. you furrowed your eyebrows as you removed yourself from him, sitting up to look at him crazy.

"uh- i'm pretty sure i know what it feels like," you argued, feeling defensive about it. what you just experienced couldn't be you assuming you came. "it's the same way you would know."

"i don't think you have," jake persisted, sitting up. he placed his hands on your ass as he pulled you up onto his lap. you looked away from him feeling annoyed with how he was acting.

he took your turned head as an opportunity to start kissing on your neck. you closed your eyes, humming. but you realized what he was doing and quickly bit your lip as you opened your eyes again. "i think i know my body more than you do, asshole."

"don't get smart with me," his accent and deepened voice grumbled against your skin, making you shiver. he started biting down on your skin, leaving hickeys. you didn't protest and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"i don't...like you doubting...me," you breathed out, losing track of your thoughts as your body decided to focus more on what he was doing to you.

he wasn't just leaving love bites on your neck, he was also itching his way up your bare thigh and as he rubbed circles, it made you wet in no time. "i'm not. im just not really sure you know what that is."

"even if you do, don't you think i could make you feel better?" you couldn't decide whether you loved or hated what his choice of tone was doing to you. you always loved his accent, and how he deepened his voice when he wanted to get something out of you... but this is the time you stand your ground against him.

and it's a fight you were losing because of how easily he could seduce you. "...no," you managed to get out, making his movements stop for a second before he continued what he was doing.

he didn't say anything, but he grabbed your chin in-between his index finger and thumb forcing you to look him in the eyes. you wanted to melt under his gaze, but before you could react he pulled you into a kiss not wasting anytime, basically attacking your lips.

he wouldn't even let you get a breath of air, pulling you back into the kiss with his hand on the back of your neck, forcefully, only letting you breathe when he himself needed to. he slid his hand up your shirt making you shiver at how cold it was against your skin.

he pulled away from the kiss, only to place his tongue along your jawline, licking up to your ears leaving kisses. his hand was now massaging your breast, pinching your nipple every now and then. you mentally thanked yourself for not putting a bra on.

his lips met yours again as you allowed his tongue to slip in, swirling around yours as you sucked on his every now and then. he pulled away and looked you in the eyes out of breath before he immediately

his hands were feeling all over your clothed body. "i'm gonna take this off," he breathed into your ear, tugging at the end of your shirt, making you nod as you lifted your arms up to make it easier for him to take it off of you.

his mouth immediately found its way to suck on your left breast, as he squeezed the other one with his hand. you hummed, biting your lip as you felt your hand go down to play with the hem of your panties.

you slipped your hand in, making your way down to your clit to relieve some of the throbbing. but before you could start rubbing, jake snatched your hand out. he unlatched his mouth from you before he grabbed your chin the way he did before, except more roughly. "stop being needy, i'm gonna give you what you want."

you smiled and nodded, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks from the way he handled you. this time, he kept your chin in his hold only changing it to hold with his four fingers, using his thumb to rest on your lip. "open," he said, pulling your bottom lip down. you did as you were told, opening your mouth a little, though he didn't seem to be pleased by it since he used his thumb to open it more.

"stick your tongue out," he whispered, biting his lip, not bothering to move his thumb as your tongue lay on top of it. first he gave you open mouth kisses, moving with his tongue to be on top of yours before the both of you closed your mouths to finish the kiss.

it was a lovely sound and feeling, making you get wetter by the minute. you especially grew weak in the knees when he added tongue sucking into the combo as he continued. you moved your hips forward as you tried to scoot closer to him to break the distance between your bodies, earning a groan into the kiss from him.

"fuck, keep doing that," he said, moving. his hands to place them firmly on your waist, helping your movement. he threw his head back as you repositioned yourself on his left thigh, enjoying the feeling of his erection in his basketball shorts on your clit.

by now you were more than soaked, and from all the teasing and stalling he had done, you were ready to climax. "jaeyun, i'm gonna cum," you breathed out, speeding up your speed, ready to finally cum. he, knowing he wasn't near his yet, only closed his eyes and nodded.

"cum for me, baby," his grip on your waist tightenedto keep you steady as you kept riding his thigh, feeling your breathing speed up as a knot formed in your stomach. after a few more seconds of that, you finally felt the high hit, sending electric chills all over your body.

jake french kissed you while lifting you up so he could quickly pull his shorts and boxers down before placing you back down. soon enough, you were back on his (now naked) thigh, his dick being between your thighs, his hands on your hips, moving at a quick but steady pace.

you couldn't hold back your moans as jake forced you to keep going, pushing you down on his erection more, then resorting to lifting you up enough so that he could hump you easier. feeling himself come closer to his climax, he took you off his lap, before kneeling in between your legs, stroking himself while looking you directly in the eyes.

you didn't hesitate to reach your hand up to his cock to help him finish, but he only moved it away shaking his head. "i wanna nut on your face," he said, making you get wet again. you nodded and stayed still, seeing that was really all you could do since he looked close.

his eyes fighting so hard to stay open as he continued, he finally started spurting out semen while letting out a throaty moan. it landed on your tits, some landed on your lips, even some on your eyelashes and forehead. he stroked himself a few more times, before he stopped from the pain of overstimulation.

when he got his breathing back to a norm, he quickly went to get a towel to clean up the mess, leaving you sitting there. you wiped some of the cum off your eyes, then licked the cum that happened to land on your lips.

when he came back, he wiped off the excess, laying beside you. though you both were sweaty and gross, you both had an unspoken agreement to just wash up in the morning. he turned to you with his signature smile. "now wasn't that better than before?"

you rolled your eyes at him. in all honesty, you forgot all about what happened earlier. so, sadly jake ended up winning the 'argument'. looking everywhere but his eyes, you reluctantly nodded. "yeah. you win this time i guess."

"YES!" he said, smiling wider. he pulled you closer to his chest, kissing the top of your head. "it's okay, baby. we both knew i would win in the end."

[slightlymore]

no, thank you

part of the Pride Universe

jaemin x fem reader

others: haechan (mentioned in jaemin's thoughts but not present in the real plot)

genre: smut with plot, roommates au, mentions of university (jaemin is a med student), angst, fluff, very +18 tho

warnings: very! rough! smut! (brat taming, oral, masturbation, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, denial, slight degradation, restriction, manhandling, bath tub is one of the locations), short mentions of mlm (jaemin x haechan fwb in the past), yn comes off rude in the beginning but it's necessary for character development, yn has an anxiety attack, angsty 

words: 11.3K

this is kinda good if I say so myself, yall have to read 👁️ if you don't like mlm or memberxmember I promise it's just a short bit of fluff/angst connecting it to Cute~ and that's all lol, the plot is very jaeminxreader centered 

Jaemin has been told that he can't say no to people. Yes, he will come to the party. Yes, he can help with the moving out. Yes, he can help you with Anatomy. Yes, that kind of anatomy as well. 

The only time Jaemin would say no is when people would ask if he’s busy or tired. No, I’m fine. No, everything is alright. 

"Do you ever sleep, Jaemin?" Haechan asked once. 

His soft and sleepy voice made Jaemin smile. He wrapped the boy’s waist even tighter, tugging Haechan’s body against his. 

“Of course I do.” Haechan chuckled. “When?” “When you’re not here”, the other whispered. “Lies. You’re studying when I’m not here. Look at what kind of service I’m doing. Fucking you so that you can just lie in bed and fall asleep.” Jaemin smiled again and ghosted Haechan’s forehead with his lips ready to place a kiss on the other’s warm skin. He stopped himself before doing so. “Yeah, thank you for your service.”

But since Haechan started to date some guy, there was no one to force him into bed and make Jaemin rest. 

The boy would drift off to unconsciousness for a little while every night, head pressed into his med school books, mind full of notions and caffeine. He would stay like that for an indefinite amount of time, not enough to fully fall asleep but enough to being shaken to the core when he would wake up, batting his eyelashes as his unfocused gaze tried to make sense of his surroundings. Then he would get up slowly from his uncomfortable chair and drag his feet to the kitchen to make his nth cup of coffee for the night.

Jaemin has never had a roommate and it was probably because of Haechan. Said boy wouldn’t have cared less if someone was in the other room, listening to their moans, but Jaemin didn’t like that. Instead, he loved it when Haechan would pull up to his doorstep unannounced, eyes either wide with tears or tight with lust. Because the choice was Jaemin. It was always Jaemin. Haechan needed him and Jaemin loved it. He couldn’t have other distractions. No flatmates knocking on the door and complaining. Just him and Haechan, on his bed, on the couch, on the kitchen counters, against the entrance door, on the floor, in the shower. Jaemin didn’t know, but it wasn’t just him doing Haechan a favour, maybe quite the opposite. Because Jaemin has been also told that he doesn’t ask for help. He doesn’t let people know about his needs, or whatever. But Haechan was aware of that. It took Jaemin a little while to notice it, especially since the other was already gone, but more often than not, Haechan would just show up for no apparent reason. “Nothing happened,” he would say, “I was just horny.” But Haechan would come for him. Because that’s how Haechan was. He could see people very well and he could see Jaemin when he needed something, or when he was exhausted and needed a simple hug, or when he didn’t sleep in days or having eaten nothing more than a single cup of instant noodles. They were friends with benefits but the benefits sometimes were just lying beside each other and talk, or order in some food while watching a movie. Sometimes they would just kiss for a long time, during nights where Haechan felt weaker, and those were Jaemin’s favourite nights. “You should sleep now,” the older would whisper against his lips and Jaemin would reply with a short-breathed yeah, in a second, before letting his tongue inside the other’s mouth slowly for another hour or so. Some people might have said that Jaemin was in love, but the boy had no idea himself whether that was the case or not and he didn’t want to think about that. Jaemin didn’t like thinking at all. But he loved it when others did and he loved to think about their thoughts instead of his own. He wanted to know people’s reasons and why they behaved in a certain manner so that he could understand himself without actively trying to.

“So, what do you think?” Jaemin was standing proud in the middle of his spot-free living room, hands on his hips, like a housewife expecting compliments from her housewive friends. 

“Could be better,” you mumbled, biting your nails, barely looking around.

When you found Jaemin’s pretty written paper renting a room on the university notice board, you did assume he was a girl. 

“What could be better?” he smiled at you. 

You stared back, sensing sarcasm but upon seeing the boy’s genuine expression you realized how naive he was. 

“I don’t know. The roommate maybe?” you rolled your eyes and walked towards your assigned room, dragging your suitcase carelessly on the nice wooden floor. “I’m staying, by the way,” you yelled after closing your door with your foot with a loud bang.

____

You have been told a lot of stuff during your life. Selfish, rude, uncaring, insensitive. 

It would make you angry. 

You would yell back that it’s not true making people step back and add some more adjectives that you wouldn’t want to use while describing yourself in class. 

You fought that back a lot, crying secretly under your covers, terrorized of being alone by yourself, afraid of being alone with such a bad person. 

You fought and fought until one day you just stared back at those people. 

So what? you found yourself thinking. Perhaps I am. Yeah. I am selfish and I don’t give a shit. So what about that? What are you all going to do? 

And when you ignored people, they started to ignore you as well. 

And slowly, everyone knew that no, you would not help them with their homework, no, you didn’t want to go to their stupid party, no, you didn’t give a shit about their new college charity event. 

And you didn’t give a single fuck about Jaemin’s rules.

“So, you can actually do whatever you want, really. The only things I ask of you is-,” he tried to speak to you the first morning of you living together.

You turned your music loudly on purpose the previous night as you settled in. You wanted to see the boy come knocking on your door and finally throw away his polite mask as everyone does around you after a few minutes of knowing you. Because you’re rude and it’s better for them to just know that from the start. 

The thing you hated the most was people giving you a little hope, that maybe you’re likeable and they wouldn’t turn their backs on you. Yet, you’ve quickly realized that it is impossible. Not with you. Not since you’re such a horrible person.

“Yeah, I don’t care,” you replied, one of Jaemin’s red apples between your teeth, a little juice glistening on your lips after you bit down. They were prettily on display in the middle of the kitchen island with a little vase of fresh flowers kept them company on the right.

The boy looked at your mouth for a second before locking eyes with you. “Okay,” he simply replied grabbing an apple himself. “I’m glad you like apples. I was afraid they would go to waste-,” but he didn’t complete the sentence, one hand suspended in the air, eyes wide as you let the piece of apple you were munching on fall on the ground as well as the fruit you were holding. 

“These apples are actually disgusting,” you commented then you both listened to the sound the apple made as it rolled into the living room and stopped as it met the soft rug.

That was it. 

It wasn’t your fault that this boy had more patience than your previous flatmates and you had to go stronger on him. 

Kick me out? Are you going to kick me out now? Come on. Kick me out.

But Jaemin didn’t look mad. 

After the initial confusion, he just put his apple back on top of the others and grabbed a paper towel. He knelt in front of you as you stood there with crossed arms and picked up your half munched bite of fruit and threw it away. Then he walked the few steps separating the kitchen island to the living room and picked up the apple as well, giving it the same journey towards the trash. 

You scoffed. 

Jaemin still didn’t say anything and grabbed a pan out of the cabinets. “I’m making pancakes,” he announced calmly. “I don’t like pancakes,” you acted like a kid but the feeling gripping at your throat was something new and you didn’t know how to behave. 

This Jaemin guy made you angrier than other people. 

Jaemin turned around to face you. “What do you like, Y/N?” 

You stared back for a few seconds at his neutral and unbothered face, then shoulder bumped him as you walked away. Grabbing your backpack from the ground you just slammed the entrance door on your way out.

You knew you were annoying. You also hated yourself just like everyone hated you. But you couldn’t help it. It has happened before. You let yourself believe that maybe you were kind and sweet, that you had a caring heart, that people would like you.  Yet, soon after, they would finally realize that you weren’t like that at all. That you were a monster trying to put on an act. So you liked the idea of people seeing the worst you could be first, so they could just leave if they couldn’t handle it. 

And no one could. Yet this Jaemin dude didn't budge.

You came home late that day and you noticed the way Jaemin turned off his music as he heard you enter your room. 

God, you hated him. 

And the morning after he was already in the kitchen, hair wet on his forehead, a white towel around his neck. 

He smiled like an angel. 

"Eggs and bacon?" 

You ignored him. 

And the morning after again. "Fruit?" Door slam. 

And another morning again. "Maybe cappuccino and croissants?" he wondered. Again. 

"Porridge?" "Okay! Okay. Fuck. Okay", you finally replied. 

It was the weekend and you had no excuse to dramatically leave the apartment as you did the previous days when you had to go to class. You were standing in the same spot in front of the kitchen island as the first day when you made a fool out of yourself by spitting out a piece of an apple. 

"I'm fine with whatever,” you added quietly. "Toast?" Jaemin raised his eyes from underneath his fringe before his hand could throw the locks back revealing the forehead. 

You shrugged. 

He smiled excitedly and got busy around the cabinets, the scent of his aftershave intimidating you. 

Walking around him silently you sat up on the kitchen stools, placing your hands on the marble and looked down, uneasy. It was alright if Jaemin was kind now then would start hate you afterwards. You could rest for a little bit, right? You could just put down your shield and breathe. It’s not like you would become friends if the made you breakfast. 

"How did the week go? You guys have many exams?" Jaemin's voice slightly startled you. 

Looking up you saw that he was already looking at you, two white plates in front of him with two pieces of hot toast. You stared back for a second then looked at the way his hands spread jam on the bread. 

"It was alright," you found yourself speaking. 

How was yours? You probably should have asked. But you didn't care and you were afraid to randomly engage in more than a few words long conversations. 

"Here," Jaemin placed the food in front of you then he licked his thumb. Thank you, you should have said. But Jaemin didn't look bothered. 

After a few moments of silence during which you couldn't bring yourself to start eating, Jaemin sighed like a British person would while slapping their knees when announcing they should go. 

"Alright. I'll eat in my room. I have a lot of stuff to do,” he announced and left with the plate. You stared at his back as he lazily dragged his feet towards the corridor and when you heard his door close you finally tasted the toast.

_____

A scared cat. An angry and scared cat.

This was the first thing Jaemin thought when he saw you. 

Honestly, he almost lost it on the first day but kept it in together when he saw the way your hands trembled while being confronted. Then all of his anger died. 

No, I don't care, you told him yet you didn't turn up your music loudly again after the first night and you never bothered him. It was almost as if you weren't even there. 

What a nicely crafted facade, Jaemin would think, hands behind his head, a pencil between his lips, an open manual on his chest, eyes directed towards an indefinite point on his ceiling. 

It was very late at night. His phone buzzed once and the boy stared at the "apartment empty, wanna come?" text. 

Yeah, he could use some of that. 

And he would have been at his friend's place by now if a weird noise wouldn't have stopped him from putting on his shoes. 

It was coming from your room, a small choked sound, barely audible that Jaemin wouldn't have heard it in other circumstances. He walked the corridor slowly until gently stopping in front of you door, a slight blush covering his cheeks. Could it be-? 

But no. 

Jaemin heard a fair share of whimpering girls before and you definitely weren't enjoying yourself. So he knocked, suddenly worried. "Y/N?" You didn't reply, only a little whimper being caught by Jaemin's ears. "Y/N, is everything alright?" He waited, face almost pressed on the cool wood. Another choking sound and "I'm coming in, now,” he announced and you couldn't stop him. 

Sat on your bed, wet cheeks from crying and irregular breaths, you looked up like a scared deer, sliding back when Jaemin walked towards you. "Shh, it's alright," he whispered with a calm voice, hands in front of himself as he sat down in front of you. 

"Don't touch me. Go away," you flinched, hiding your face from his gaze. 

Jaemin had a reassuring face when he spoke again. "I won't touch you if you don’t want me to."

"Go away. Leave me alone," you repeated with a feeble voice, arms pulling your knees to your chest. 

Jaemin looked at you for a few moments, your baby blue pyjama and irregular breath, then he gently sat down on the bed in front of you and crossed his legs. 

"Do you take medicine?" he asked softly. You shook your head. "Okay. Then, will you look at me?" You sobbed and furtively raised your eyes to meet his for a short moment before looking away. "It's alright. You're doing great." Jaemin's voice was low, articulating every word slowly and he didn't move. "It's scary, I know. But there's no danger now. I'm protecting you." His eyes were trained on your face and you finally let yourself stare back fully. 

"Imitate me," he spoke again, breathing in and out slowly. A little sob escaped your lips before you could do the same. 

"Good. You're doing amazing. Slowly," he cooed and you did just that for an indeterminate amount of times, the silence engulfig you both until you looked down and saw your fingers wrapped around Jaemin's hands. 

You let them go surprised but your palms liked how soothing touching another human’s skin felt. 

His was soft and warm, and you concentrated on the way the heat spread to your cold hands, holding them again timidly. 

Then you let yourself fall on the pillows, eyes looking up at the ceiling, the sobs getting more time between each other. 

Jaemin remained still for a moment, as if unsure what to do, then he slowly moved to the side, walking on all fours until resting on the bed beside you. 

A little stronger whine shook your frame again though and he slightly rolled over, rising on his elbow the other hand above your body. 

"I'm-- going to touch your diaphragm. Is this alright?" 

You bit your lower lip then nodded. 

"Okay, breathe in again, keep it for one second, then release slowly."

You inhaled, staring at Jaemin's big eyes as if looking for approval. His hand ghosted your stomach until finally resting on your body right underneath your bust. 

"That's right," he spoke softly. "Now, again.” 

You repeated the exercise, feeling Jaemin's warm palm through the clothes every time your rib cage expanded. 

"Again," he breathed in with you, keeping it, then releasing it. 

After a while your mind felt like white, blood fully oxygenated, Jaemin’s non-invading and calming presence actually making you feel better.

Yet your heartbeat couldn't stop beating and Jaemin could feel it. 

"Again," his low voice made your arms skin shiver with goosebumps, your breathing getting irregular instead of steady. 

"Focus on my hand and your breath," he said but his gaze falling on your slightly open lips wasn't helping you focus at all. 

He blinked and looked up into your eyes again. 

It was even worse. "Jaemin, I'm fine now.” 

The boy blinked a few times and retrieved his hand slowly. 

Your breath calmed down and Jaemin took it for a good sign since he returned to his side of the bed. 

It became silent so suddenly that you could hear Jaemin swallow. 

Thank you? Thank you for being here? Or, thank you for helping me out. Sorry for slapping your hand away? Is this what you should have said, right?

“Then, I’ll be going now,” his soft voice disrupted the silence and your bed creaked in the darkness as he presumably got up. 

No, wait, wait. 

"Why do I become like this at night?" you whispered instead. 

Jaemin’s silhouette against your dark blue windows moved around and lied on the bed again, this time on his stomach, bust raised on his elbows, eyes probably on the shadows of your face. 

"It's because the front part of your brain gets quieter and gives space to the other parts of your brain where feelings are."

"Why do you always have a good answer to everything?" 

You heard Jaemin's breath form a light chuckle. 

"Many people told me that before."

"Okay, right."

"No, wait, I meant that- I'm not bragging, sorry--it came out very weirdly." 

You smiled, the dark and sudden sleepiness making you care less about keeping up your cold image. 

"You want to be a psychiatrist?" "I don't know."

You turned on your side, hands pressed under your face, knees buckled until almost touching his hips. "Why is that?" 

Jaemin sighed. "I don't know if I'm good at helping people." 

The laugh you let out took both of you by surprise. "Are you joking?" 

The boy exhumed perplexed energy even if you couldn’t see him properly. 

"You're a human matt with weird gigantic patience. You'll help people alright." "A human mat?" Jaemin raised his eyebrow at you but you still noticed the amused twinkle in his eyes. "Yeah, you have no self-esteem,” you went on. "I have self-esteem," the other protested. "If you did, you wouldn’t let people treat you like that."

Jaemin let the clock on your wall fill the silence with its ticks for a little while. 

"Like what?" he whispered. 

You rolled on your back, unable to look at him anymore. "Like how I treat you." 

"So you're aware of that." 

"So you're aware of that as well but choose to ignore it instead of fighting back?" 

Jaemin rolled on his back as well, hand rising to his forehead and ruffling his fringe. 

You stared at the way the strands fell back exposing his forehead then you looked at his furrowed eyebrows and finally at his lips when he opened them to speak. "What's the point in fighting back?" 

A car roared outside your open window, giving you more time to collect your thoughts. 

"What's the point in being stupidly kind like that?" you finally spoke up. Your voice was a little whisper as if you secretly wanted Jaemin to not hear you. But he did. 

"So I can live by my principles." "And are you happy?" 

Ah. 

Shit. 

Jaemin was at a loss of words. 

"Isn't it better to just be yourself and do whatever the fuck you want?" you went on. "Like you?" he finally spoke up. "Yeah." "But you're not doing what you want.”

It was your turn to have no words to choose from. 

"You're not yourself, are you?" he asked. "I am," but your voice didn't seem convincing even to your ears. "People are not going to like you more if you behave as you do," you added. "And what should I do to make people like me?" Jaemin inquired. "Nothing. Just be yourself."

Jaemin sat up slowly and briefly looked out of the window. 

"Then you should follow this advice as well. Stop putting on this act."

You didn't sleep the whole night after Jaemin slowly exited your room.

_____

The next day you already left when Jaemin got up and walked to the kitchen. 

He heard you leave actually. He couldn't sleep the whole night either. 

Are you happy? Are you yourself?

No. After turning and rolling on his bed Jaemin got to the conclusion that he wasn't happy or himself at all. 

Not all the time at least. 

Because most of the times he did care about people, but he could also point out times when he did too much for no reason, getting back nothing but a bittersweet taste on his tongue. 

When he came back home after class, an intense sweet fragrance welcomed him first as he stepped inside. With the back turned at him and wearing his black apron, you were frantically looking for something in the kitchen cabinets. 

Jaemin indulged in looking at you for a little while, a fizzy feeling inside his chest, small happiness created by moments like finding money in an old jacket, a little surprise you didn’t need but that made your day better. 

How would it feel to behave like you? Would Jaemin be able to do it? 

At first, Jaemin wondered why you were like that, but after the previous night, he hit his head with an imaginary palm, feeling stupid for not realizing it earlier. 

You were just like him. 

Hiding something in front of people. 

He cleared his throat and smiled when you jolted with a little scream. “For fuck’s sake.” 

Yeah, you were hiding the little girl he saw crying on her bed and he was hiding the needy little boy that so desperately wanted to be loved. 

“I’m sorry for startling you,” he let his bag fall on the floor as he sat on the kitchen stools in front of you. “Are those cookies?” he indicated the oven with his chin. 

You adjusted your clothes as if suddenly realizing how embarrassing it was to wear an apron. 

“Why ask obvious questions?” 

Jaemin’s smile widened until showing his teeth and you felt like either fight him or run away from his eyes. What a weirdo, you thought. It was almost as if he was enjoying your moodiness. 

“Are you looking for something?” he asked again. You crossed your arms on your chest and Jaemin thought that seizing you in the act of being domestic was something that highly embarrassed you. 

He loved it. 

“No.” The boy rested his head on one arm, tilting his head to the side, already knowing what you were trying to do before. “Shall we decorate the cookies together? I can make the icing. The colouring is in the other cabinet.” 

You turned around and stared at the only place you didn’t look before. “I wasn’t trying to decorate them,” you lied. 

Jaemin lifted his hands as if innocent. “Never said that,” then smiled as you rolled your eyes. 

“Do you have plans tonight?” he walked around you to retrieve the decorations and you felt your breath hitch when he had to press himself on your back. “Because the cookies have to cool down first,” Jaemin explained. 

You didn’t reply and untied your apron, suddenly regretting your decision to remain in the kitchen instead of hiding in your room. 

“Watch a movie with me, please?” 

The “no” was already on the tip of your tongue but then you heard the “please” and your eyes moved to Jaemin’s face by themselves. His hands were pressing into the isle, shoulders raised as if he was trying to lift himself, the evident nervousness in his expression making you feel at a loss of words. 

You didn’t expect Jaemin to be shy. Why was he shy? To ask you to watch a movie with him? That made him shy? 

“Okay.” 

His eyes widened. “Okay?”

You almost laughed at how surprised he was and you had to admit that seeing him run around the kitchen to get to the living room was pretty adorable. 

A little sigh, as if a warning, left your lungs when you walked towards the couch. You were probably doing a mistake, but Jaemin - God - Jaemin was so kind. 

Watching his back as he was sat down on his knees in front of the tv, so eager to spend some time with you, even if it was fake, even if he didn’t really care, made your heart swell up. No one has behaved like that before. Maybe it was alright. 

“Okay, but I choose the movie,” you extended the hand and Jaemin got up, placing the remote controller on your palm. His smile never left his lips as you shuffled the options. “What about this?” Jaemin read the description with squinty eyes. "Oh, I don't like happy endings." You looked at him. "Why is that?" 

The boy remained quiet for a moment. 

"I think it's because you relate a lot to a sad story and it describes your life so well that you get mesmerized in it. You finally feel understood. Others are going through the same struggles. But then they get a happy ending and- you don't.”

Jaemin’s fingers played with one of the threads of his shorts and you blinked at his unexpected words. 

“It becomes a reminder of how your life could go if you were lucky like them. But you're not. That's when you can't relate anymore and it becomes even sadder. Instead of being a sort of relief, the happy ending is another punch in the gut, since I'll never be able to experience something like that,” he smiled after the last phrase as if he had just said that the best colour to decorate the cookies was blue. 

Suddenly it felt as if the reality was altered. 

Jaemin's face was a concentrated mask, trying to read other movies descriptions and you desperately wanted to touch it with your fingertips. 

But you touched the back of his hand instead and Jaemin looked down at his thigh before looking up. 

You didn’t know what expression you had on but the boy was so good at understanding people that you could have had a blank face and he would have known what you were feeling. 

He smiled warmly at you and held your hand, squeezing it a little bit. 

“I’m fine.” “It’s alright to be weak,” you almost talked on top of him. “Or to have desires.” 

Jaemin opened his mouth and closed it a few times like a fish and you both jolted when the ding of the oven told that the cookies were baked. 

The boy reluctantly let your hand go when you got up and walked towards the kitchen. 

The smell was incredible and despite the weird saddened energy of the room, you both smiled at each other when locking eyes.

_____

Jaemin got used to your love language very quickly. 

After cookies, came breakfast, and after that, it was the turn of a small gadget you found at the flea market. 

“It’s so ugly that the first person I thought of was you.”

You still kept the insulting wall but Jaemin loved that part of you as well. 

He ate your gratitude made of sweets and desserts, and looked at it in bed, rolling the little bald man made of wood on his palm. 

A night Jaemin would think a lot about, was when you were hammered, bodies spread on the living room floor, eyes closed, soft music in the background to make the ambience less awkward. But you didn’t care about awkwardness as soon enough, the only thing your dizzy heads could think of was nothing at all. 

With a wavering hand, Jaemin felt around him, searching for the bottle of “you’ve never tasted such good cognac before, I’m sure” cognac that Haechan sent him.

 And the “Oh, perhaps I’m getting engaged :P”.

Jaemin stared at the note for a long time then stared at the bottle of amber liquid, his hands gripping it hard. 

You took it from his hands before he could unreasonably smash it on the ground. 

“Are you okay?”

The bottle was put down on the kitchen counter and Jaemin looked at it first then at your concerned eyes, as you’ve started to do more often lately. 

Jaemin didn’t know what expression he had on but whatever it was, it made you take a few steps towards him when he didn’t reply. 

“Yeah,” he breathed out after a little while, trying to put on his normal smile. But when you wrapped his waist with your arms he didn’t stop the tears falling silently on his cheeks. 

He did not sob, nor wail. Jaemin just stood there, arms unable to hug you back. And when you dragged him by the hand, the bottle under your arm, making him sit down on the floor, he just obliged. 

“Let’s drink to that.” 

And Jaemin didn’t know if you meant his broken heart or Haechan’s happiness but he nodded and took a sip of the sweet drink. The bottle travelled back and forth between you until you couldn’t sit up anymore. 

Lying down, the sun setting, the same few songs playing on a loop since no one had the energy to change the playlist, Jaemin couldn’t find the bottle anymore so he just grabbed your hand instead. 

You didn’t say anything and intertwined your fingers with his, mind circling the spot Jaemin’s thumb was circling on your skin. 

"I feel like people love me for how I make them feel.”

The boy’s voice was hoarse and it made your chest tingle. 

You listened, squeezing his hand as to invite him to go on. 

“I know everything about them. I know how to make them feel good. I listen and I love. I love a lot.” 

“You do.”

Jaemin swallowed hard. 

You didn’t have to look to know that his cheeks were wet again. 

“I tried to be perfect. So I could be loved back.”

“You don’t have to do that. You just got an example of that not working very well anyway.”

A sniff. 

“I know. But the little amount I still get now, would it be there if I didn’t try as hard as I’m trying right now? Would people care about me if I wasn't perfect? Would they love me if I didn't do what they need me to? Honestly, I'm terrified to find out.” 

You sighed and let his hand go, rolling on your stomach and lifting your bust on our forearms to be able to look at Jaemin. 

The boy opened his reddened eyes and tilted his head to the side to meet your gaze. 

“If you try so hard and still get so little, you don’t need that love.” 

Jaemin blinked once, listening to your soothing voice, the evening breeze lightly swooshing his hair spread around his head. 

“As you said, they probably still love you for how you make them feel and not for how you are,” and Jaemin visibly flinched at the hard truth. “But,” you grabbed his hand again, not wanting to let him despair, “there are also people that love you because of who you are, even if you confuse them with those that love you for what you do. And I’m sure Haechan is one of them, it just didn’t go well.” “It didn’t have to go well. It has never been something that could go. It’s just my fault that-” but you shushed him pulling at his hand as to make him stop talking. “You can still admit that he hurt you. He didn’t do it on purpose but it’s not your fault either. And it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t care about you. Sometimes you can try very hard and people would still not care in the same way that you do, and it’s alright. It’s not you. It’s them.” 

Jaemin kept his eyes closed as you talked, his chest rising with deep breaths and you placed a hand on it just like he did to you before. 

“Do you like me?” 

His question took you by surprise. 

“You can say no. I’m sorry, I’m putting a lot of pressure on you right now-” “I do.” 

The boy opened his eyes, staring at you from underneath his long lashes. “Why?” 

You stared down at your intertwined fingers. The truth was that you also liked him for how he made you feel. He never snapped, he accepted you, he tried hard to get to you and it was something that you’ve never experienced before. But what does that also mean about him? 

“Because you’re a beautiful human being.” 

Jaemin’s eyes widened imperceptibly. 

“You’re kind and patient and so sweet. And I know that it looks as if I’m saying only the stuff that has to do with me, like, you’re kind with me, and patient with me and sweet with me. But honestly, I would have liked you even if you were like that with other people and not with me.”

You looked up at his face and bit your lower lip. “Also, would you not like me if I understood you the way you understand others? Would that be only loving the way I make you feel? Would that be a bad thing?” “It’s a bad thing only if you were kind to me only to be loved back when in reality you’re not.” “Yeah. And you’re not doing that, are you? You think you’re not deserving of love without trying to be kind but you’re naturally like that, Jaemin. You’re just unhealthily pushing yourself sometimes. It’s not like you’d stop being kind if you stopped trying. Because you’re already kind. And people will love you the same.”  

The boy didn’t add anything to that. 

He pulled you by the hand until you softly landed on his chest and wrapped your body with his arms. 

You could feel his quick heartbeat under your chest and he probably could feel yours. His warm breath caressed your forehead until you fell asleep. 

_____

The day after, Jaemin was the usual boy. 

His teeth were the first thing you saw when you woke up with a groan.  “Good morning.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows when your eyes focus on the background. “What the hell am I doing in your bed?” 

Jaemin giggled and tugged your body against his, making you realize that he has been hugging you the whole time. 

“Let me go!” you tried to escape but Jaemin didn’t budge. 

“We’re just cuddling,” his muffled voice on the sweatshirt you were wearing sounded whiny and sleepy. 

“Why are we cuddling? What the fuck happened last night?” 

Your body stiffened when Jaemin threw a leg on your hips like a koala. 

“Nothing. We got drunk and cried, then we fell asleep on the floor.” 

You waited. 

“And then I woke up and took ourselves on my bed where we cuddled some more until falling asleep again.” 

You waited some more. 

“There’s something you’re not telling me, Jaemin.” The boy raised his face from your shoulder to show you his innocent puppy eyes. “Like what?” “Like why I have nothing on besides your hoodie.” 

Jaemin’s face lit up in a bright smile and he hid his face into you again as if shy. 

“You were thirsty and drank water from the tap.” 

“And?” you were losing all of your patience while your cheeks heated up. 

“And your clothes got all wet.”

“Jaemin, for fuck’s sake, talk normally. Did you undress me?” 

The boy shook his head. “You took them off by yourself,” he paused. “While trying to give me a lap dance.” 

You choked on air and tried to cover your face with your hands, but Jaemin’s koala arms prevented you from doing so. 

What the fuck. What the actual fuck. 

“But you just took your clothes off and fell on me. Nothing happened. I forced you to wear my hoodie. Then you wanted to cuddle and we fell asleep as you kept saying how pretty my eyelashes are.” 

Oh my God. 

“And that’s it?” you asked with a little voice. 

Jaemin looked at you again and his face was so close that you felt as if on fire, the thought of being naked in front of him and doing stuff you couldn’t remember at all. 

“Yeah, unfortunately.” 

You hit him on the forehead and as he giggled, hands pressing on the spot, you could free yourself and run away in your room.

It was something you would have never imagined, the feeling between your legs.

 You breathed in and out, trying to calm yourself, but your skin still remembered where Jaemin’s hands were placed just seconds ago. And his breath on your neck. And your eyes couldn’t get rid of his sunlit chocolate eyes. 

Oh, fuck. 

This shouldn’t have happened. 

You didn’t predict this happening at all and it made you go crazy just like the heat spreading through your body as your hand slipped down your stomach. You didn’t think. Your mind was blank and your fingers moved on their own, teeth biting your lower lip, knees buckling until your frame slipped on the door and meeting the floor. Legs open and back pressed onto the hard wood, you closed your eyes and gasped, hoping that Jaemin’s hangover ears could not hear you.

_____

Jaemin loved how things started to go between you. Bad mannered and moody, you still snapped at him but didn’t run away when he would laugh and pull you into his arms. 

Perhaps Jaemin was making a mistake. The same mistake all over again. 

Perhaps he was giving and giving, thinking the other party felt the same, but he didn’t care anymore. That’s how he was. He wasn’t trying. He felt like hugging you and kissing your forehead just to hear your scream, loving the little smile blooming on your lips when you thought he wasn’t looking. 

He bathed into your silent affection and soon your affection became something else he wouldn’t have expected. 

“I think you should stay at home.” 

Jaemin adjusted his raincoat with furrowed eyebrows. You were standing near the wall of the corridor and watched him about to go out in the pouring rain. 

“Jaemin. There’s a storm outside. Your friend can just call a tow truck or something.” 

The boy has been in a rare bad mood for a little while that day and when he heard that his friend got a flat tire his mood didn’t get any better. And now, with you looking at him as if he was doing something wrong when his conscience was telling him it was the right choice made him unreasonable angry. Because he knew that he should probably listen to you. 

“I know.” 

You huffed. “Then tell him to go fuck himself and stay home.” Jaemin let his shoe fall down on the floor annoyed. “Why do you care so much suddenly?” and while saying it he was already regretting it but was unable to stop. “You’ve hated me since day one and now you care about my well-being?” 

You tightened your lips. “I don’t hate you. I thought-- you understood.” 

Your vulnerability made Jaemin close his eyes for a second. “Fuck, I do. I always do. I understand everyone and I hate it.” 

Sudden lighting made his face spectral and you took a step back. 

“Just stop being a human mat and stop doing stuff you don’t want to do. We’ve talked about this before, haven’t we?” 

If the boy was cooling down, that phrase took it all out of the window. 

“You think it’s easy? Why don’t you stop saying no to everything and start being kinder then? We’ve talked about that as well. You can’t do it either.” 

“I bet I can go one day with saying yes to everything but you can’t go a day by saying no or doing what you want instead of what other people want,” you dared him. 

Jaemin scoffed. “Yeah, sure. I would want to see that.” 

You crossed your arms on your chest determined. “Okay. Starting from this moment I’m going to say yes. What about you? Are you going to refuse people and do what you want? I don’t think so.” 

Jaemin stared at you for a split second and his expression became one you’ve never seen him wear before. With a fluid movement, he filled the space between you until your faces were a breath away from each other. “I want to fuck you. How about that?” 

You almost gasped as you stared at his dark eyes, the storm outside the window giving him an even more dangerous aura. 

Gulping down, your mind started to run and search for an appropriate answer, but it wasn’t necessary as your lips betrayed you by forming a quiet “okay, deal.”

Jaemin’s pupils trembled as if he was surprised himself, yet his hands were quick, stripping him of his raincoat, letting it fall to his feet. 

“The safe word is,” he whispered slowly, “forest.”

You swallowed again, feeling your throat suddenly dry, then you chuckled trying to mask your nervousness. 

“Okay, but forest? Really? That’s very stupid-,” but you couldn't complete your shaky sentence as you found yourself dragged towards the bedroom and knocked on the bed in a second, ass up in the air with Jaemin’s hands on it. “Stupid?” he asked irritated. “Start fucking counting.”   You shivered even though your blood felt like boiling. Not in a thousand years, you would have expected Jaemin to manhandle you like that. 

Spank. 

A little yelp, more because of the surprise than the actual pain since your thick jeans didn’t really allow for much friction, escaped your lips. “One.” Your voice was trembling. “Good girl,” Jaemin’s voice was almost a deep whisper. 

Spank. 

“T-two,” you stuttered as Jaemin increased the force. 

Spank. 

You whined. “Three.” “God, I’ve wanted to do this the first time you left your dirty stuff in the sink and refused to clean up.”

Spank. 

“F-four. So you’re actually able to feel human emotions such as anger, huh?” you chuckled breathlessly. 

Spank. You moaned and your panties started to get too wet and hot for your liking. 

No five could come out of your lips as Jaemin grabbed your arms and rolled you over on your back. His eyes were full of fire and you felt your core tingle as he got on the bed as well, kneeling between your open legs, resting his weight on his hands pressed on each side of your head. “I’m going to stuff you up so hard. Let’s see if you’ll be able to talk back again, princess.” You were about to chuckle, pretending that his words didn’t affect you, but you lost it at the pet name. A little gasp left your lips in the form of a single breath and Jaemin got even closer as if catching it. “Oh, you like it? You want to be called like that?” he teased you. You gulped nervously and nodded. “Then I won’t do it,” he whispered, mouths almost touching. You raised your head to connect his lips with yours but Jaemin pulled away with a laugh until you couldn’t reach him anymore. Then he got closer again when you rested your head down. “Wanna kiss me?” his voice caressed your ears just the way one of his hands started to draw little circles down your neck. You turned your head to the side, giving him more space. “Hm?” he asked while the tip of his tongue traced the outline of your ear. You shivered at the sensation. “Yeah, wanna kiss you,” you replied, remembering the dare, even though, you realized with deep shame, you would have answered positively anyways. Jaemin’s soft chuckle added to the sensation growing between your legs and you would have rubbed them together if Jaemin’s bust weren’t there, so close to your core yet so far away. “Ask me nicely,” he ordered. You bit your lower lip and looked up at him, trying to flirt back, maybe making Jaemin weak the way he was making you feel. But the boy’s smile never flattered. “Do you not want to kiss me?” you fluttered your eyelashes. Jaemin shook his head. “No.” “I want to kiss you so badly though,” you tried again. “Sounds like a you problem.” “Okay, so you’re not actually able to feel human emotions,” you dropped the sugary tone. “This is pretty human in my book,” he lowered his hips grinding on you, his hard cock making you jolt even through the layers of clothes. “I have to do what I want right? Then I want to fuck you until there’s no trace of that attitude left, but on my terms,” and you would have replied if Jaemin didn’t rise on his knees again, looking at you sprawled in front of him like a full meal and if his hands didn’t go to your waistband, unbuttoning your pants and roughly dragging them down. Your legs fell on the bed like dead weight after the jeans were thrown somewhere in the room. Jaemin got between them again but not to do what you hoped he would. Instead, he reached on the shelves behind you and you recognized the sound before seeing the object: a pair of shiny metal handcuffs. Your eyes widened at the sight and Jaemin chuckled. “You want me to tie you up?” you tried to joke, knowing damn well that they weren’t for his wrists. Jaemin ignored your useless question and handcuffed you, tugging at the chain connecting your hands, making you whine as he hooked it to a nail above your head. You looked up, blaming yourself for not noticing it sooner and shivered at the sudden realization that Jaemin had probably done it very often. A little fear of what he might do to you crept in the back of your mind but instead of spreading panic through your body, it spread a wave of pleasure, collecting itself in a single pulsating point between your legs. “Tell me the truth. It’s the first time you’re not the one tied to the bed, right?” you teased him. “No, but it does look like it’s your first time, isn’t it, love?” his eyes were sweet and kind, the usual look Jaemin would give you in the morning or before going to bed, yet it changed in a second as he calmly slipped his fingers on your hips, getting under your panties and dragging them down your thighs. He twirled them around his finger a few times, the tip of his tongue moisturizing his dry lips as he drank in the view of your spread legs. “You’re not taking off this?” you tried to drift his attention to your face instead, shimming your bust as to indicate what you were talking about, suddenly very shy of you being so exposed to him and definitely not used to the look on his face. But Jaemin didn’t budge. He still stared where he wanted, as if almost caressing you with his gaze as he replied. “It would be a shame. That’s my hoodie, isn’t it? Tell me,” he got closer, hovering over you, finally looking at you in the eyes, making you regret that he wasn’t looking away as before, “does it still have my perfume on? Were you thinking about me today just as you touched yourself that time while wearing it?” he purred and chuckled at your shocked expression. “This apartment has very thin walls, angel. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll tell you my little secret as well, yeah?” You nodded breathlessly. “I was fucking my fist to your pretty moans as well, thinking about your sweet lips wrapped around my cock,” he rubbed his thumb on your lower lip, making you open your mouth as if about to kiss you, then smirked. “What about you? Were you thinking about this-” he let his hand fall from your face down your body until reaching between your legs, touching your wet core with two fingers, dragging them up and down slowly. You jolted, inhaling sharply at the feeling, eyes unable to stay open. “-or maybe this?” his voice was a whisper as his fingertips circled your clit, snapping a whine out of you. His shiny necklace was dangling in front of your face, then it laid on your chest as he got closer and pressed his lips on your neck, sucking your skin in, playing with it with his tongue. “Was it perhaps this?” he spoke again as he easily slipped his middle finger inside of you. The wet sounds of him pumping your pussy made you even more aroused and it probably had the same effect on Jaemin since a little low growl roared in his chest. He slipped another finger in. “Do you hear it? So wet and all for me,” his hot breath ghosted your ear. “Jaemin, please,” you mumbled, the building up sensation keeping you on the edge but not enough to grow to what your gut needed. Jaemin raised his bust and sat down on his heels with a cocky smile, looking at the way his fingers disappeared inside you, glistening with your juices. “You’re in no position to ask for anything, angel,” he reminded you calmly. “But I appreciate the please. Now, let’s learn to say thank you as well, shall we?” You whined, rocking your hips against his hand, urging him to go faster. The boy raised an eyebrow at your eagerness and let himself down on his elbows between your legs. “Do you want to feel my tongue?” “Yes, yes, please,” you replied, all of your pride out of the window. “Like this?” he licked your inner thigh. You protested and it only made Jaemin more amused. “Sorry, like this?” he drew a line on one of your lips, so close yet so far. “Jaemin, I’ll fucking make you pay,” you spoke through your teeth and Jaemin clicked his tongue as if disappointed, retrieving his fingers from you and leaving you all empty. “No, no, no,” you wailed, eyes wide staring at him. “What was that? Did I hear some-” he cupped his ear with one hand in a playful act, “-attitude?” “Shit, Jaemin, you said you’re going to fuck the attitude out of me, yet here you are, not doing anything to me.” Jaemin’s smile disappeared in a second leaving space for a dark expression. Usually, he would have continued to smile, but this Jaemin was a different person. “Oh, be careful what you wish for, angel,” he whispered and dove into your core, not leaving you a single second to breathe in properly. You moaned hard feeling his quick tongue, curling your toes and tugging at the handcuffs keeping your arms painfully above your head. “Oh oh- fuck me,” and he did it, lapping at your wetness, fingers shoved back inside of you, quick to find your sweet spot thanks to your increasing moans guiding his movements. His name on your whiny lips probably made him insane since he started to move even quicker, so quick to make you arch your back, not stopping even when you started to uncontrollably shake, coming all over his tongue. Your legs tried to get together but Jaemin didn’t agree with that, slapping your thighs away his with free hand and diving back in, sucking on your clit as if nothing happened. You cried out and mumbled something about stopping but Jaemin didn’t accept anything besides the safe word. Deaf to your protests, he ravaged you until hearing your loud whimpers again, this time shaking so hard that the bed frame moved with you, your wrists hurting as you tugged at the handcuffs again. Only then Jaemin lifted himself on his knees again, breathless, your juices wetting his lips and chin, a thin layer of sweat matting his fringe to the forehead. “How are we feeling, baby?” he grabbed the collar of his t-shirt and undressed himself, revealing one of the best bodies you’ve seen in real life. Unable to speak, still coming down from your high, you just stared at him, fucked numb, and he still didn’t even put his cock to good use yet. “Good,” Jaemin seemed satisfied as he caressed his abs, going down to the waistband of his grey sweats with a slow movement. He teased you like that for a second, loving the way your eyes were trained on his hard one. “You want it?” he asked with a smirk, palming it and outlining its form. “Yes,” you managed to say. Jaemin clicked his tongue. “You’re back to speaking now. Better do something about it,” he commented and took off his bottoms alongside his boxers. In a single movement, your legs were around his waist and the tip of his cock was tasting your entrance. Jaemin moved it up and down with his hand, spreading your abundant juices on it, making you almost whimper with expectation before finally filling you up slowly with a deep grunt. And you felt every centimetre of it, stretching you out, making the air leave your lungs in the same moment until you felt it hit far inside where no cock has possibly touched before. “Shit-” Jaemin whispered as you moaned, slowly making more space inside your tight walls by swiftly rolling his hips. He didn’t need to keep the pace low for a long time though as you quickly adjusted to his girth, high pitched pleasure whimpers leaving your rough throat instead of pained ones. Jaemin swore again, thrusting every time faster, grabbing your legs and putting them on his shoulders, hitting it from a better angle. "Louder, baby. I want to hear your moans." You bit your lower lip, the remnants of your brattiness lingering on your tongue. "Then make me moan, Jaemin-," and in that second you realized that you've fucked up. Jaemin descended in a breath, making your thighs touch your chest, one of his hands deeply pressed into the pillow, the other tightened around your throat. He was quick. Oh, he was so quick you felt like you were about to go blind. "Like this? Huh?" the creak of the bed and the slapping of the skin almost covering his teeth spoken questions. When you came you felt your eyes roll back and Jaemin finally let you inhale, oxygenating your fucked out brain. Little pleas slipped your trembling lips, imitating your shaking muscles. But Jaemin didn't stop until you felt his hot cum spurting deep inside of you, making you clench hard around him, finally hearing his choked moans as well. His hips moved and moved until you begged. “Jaemin, Jaem- I can’t, I can’t take this anymore." “You know what to say, angel. A single word and I’ll stop,” he reminded you. You bit your lower lip, staring at him in the eyes. “Oh, so you like it that much, huh? Like - a - little - slut," he accompanied each of his last four words with a deep thrust. "Your tight little pussy can’t take it anymore but you still want it, isn’t that right, princess? You like to be used like this, just as I please. You’re filled up so much that it’s dripping out, baby. Would you let me use your other pretty holes as well?” “Fuck, Jaemin, you’re driving me crazy,” you whined, a few warm tears collecting to the sides of your eyes. “Oh, my baby is crying because it’s that good? Do you love it? You want more of my cock, right?” he cooed sweetly. “Yes, yes, please,” you squirmed underneath him. “No,” he shook his head amused slipping out of your hot pussy, slapping your clit with his tip. You jolted and tugged at the handcuffs. Jaemin smiled and jerked his cock between your legs. "Oh, fuck," his voice darkened as his fingers wrapped his glistening cock, fucking himself while looking at your abused pussy. He was so hot, with strands of wet hair to hide his eyes, open red lips to let out deep grunts and his abs flinching when his thumb would press into the tip of his cock that a little whine escaped your lips. "Give it to me." Jaemin looked up at your begging face with a smirk, hand not slowing down at all. "Where do you want it?" You let your tongue out and you could visibly see the moment during which Jaemin forced a moan down his throat. In a second your arms were down and you sighed relieved as he silently unlocked the handcuffs. But you didn't live that pleasurable moment for long that your bruised wrists were grabbed again to make you stand up on your knees in front of him. Jaemin looked at your face for a short while, almost tenderly, eyes darting from your eyes to your lips, before he gripped your head and forced your on all fours, his other hand keeping his cock aligned to your face. You whimpered at the sudden movement but opened your mouth, looking up at Jaemin, waiting for him to do whatever he wanted to you. And he did just that. A choked moan vibrated up his length as he thrust on your tongue, making you taste yourself and his cum at once. Jaemin hummed once then whined, stopping the air inside his nose as if choking before releasing it with through his open mouth and it was so sexy that you desired to listen to his sounds forever. And they got louder as you bobbed your head, his hands loosely gripping your face before palming your shoulders and back, going further until reaching your ass and grabbing it, kneading your soft flesh, shoving himself even further inside your throat. Overstimulated, it took him less time to cum the second time and you loved it how briefly at your mercy he was when you let his cock out, a little string of saliva connecting your tongue to his tip, jerking him off until feeling his seed paint your face. "So fucking hot, fuck-," he groaned, staring down at your expression until you milked him all up. 

Both breathless you just looked at each other until a little smile broke on your lips. He followed suit and chuckled, one trembling hand searching for his t-shirt to clean you up. 

"Wait," he said when you sat up,  putting one finger to your cheek and sucking it clean. 

"Delicious," you raised one eyebrow. "Yeah, I bet," Jaemin replied sarcastic one hand sliding on your jaw while the other cleaned up your cheeks. You closed your eyes with a smile and waited for him to be done, not expecting the little peck he places on your lips. 

When you opened your eyes surprised, Jaemin continued to pat your skin as if nothing happened. 

"What was that?" you inquired. 

The boy blinked at you innocently. "You had something on your lips."

Your smile grew. "And it's all off now? I think there's some left. Wanna check?" 

Jaemin let the t-shirt go on the side in that instant and kissed you deeply, almost making you fall on your back. It was soft and careful, yet so intense that if you wouldn't have felt so spent it would have turned you on again. And maybe you still could go on for a while because when Jaemin tilted your head to the side and circled your tongue with his, you could have sworn that the heat between your legs came back stronger than ever. 

"Wait here," he whispered on your skin and got up, letting you admire the back view until he disappeared outside the room. 

With a deep sigh, you let yourself fall on the bed again, stretching your sore muscles, the realization that you've just had some mad sex slowly creeping in. 

When Jaemin came back you were almost drifting to sleep, lulled by the sound of the rain. 

"Come." A little whine rolled out of your lips as you opened your eyes again. Jaemin smiled looking at you for a few moments before sliding his arms under your knees and waist. 

"Jaemin, wait, no-," you jolted awake but not being able to do anything besides wrapping your arms around his neck. "You can't carry me-," but he shushed you and in a few moments you were already in the bathroom, the hot water still filling the bathtub. 

He put you down and held your waist when you realized your legs were still wobbly and helped you step inside the soapy water. When he followed suit, placing himself behind you and pulling you towards him, you felt your cheeks on fire. 

"You alright?" he whispered, hands already trained on your body, massaging your body softly. 

You nodded and inhaled sharply as he traced your bust with two fingers, going down between your legs. "Jaemin-," your thighs closed around his wrist while your face pressed on his bicep to your left. 

His soft chuckle brushed against your temple. "I'm not doing anything. Just cleaning you out," he had the courage to say. When you arched your back he retrieved his hand and grabbed a soft loofah. With gentle and careful strokes, he passed it on your skin starting from the chest and shoulders then going down on your torso, giving a little bit too much attention to your breasts. Too turned on but also embarrassed about him washing you up, you could just stare at the way the bubbly water dripped on your skin and when he ordered you to turn around, you couldn't bear to look at him in the eyes. Hands on our ankles, as you rested your back to the other side of the tub, he worked your legs up slowly, enjoying the view and your shy expression maybe too much. 

"You're so beautiful," he commented in a low, playful tone and you felt like asking him to get you off for the nth time that night. 

Perhaps it showed on your face or maybe he could read minds, but when he reached your inner thighs, he let he loofah float and touched you with his fingers, pulling you towards him until you straddled his lap. 

"The bet is off now. You can insult me just like before," he smirked while his fingers made their way between your aching folds. 

The breath you inhaled was shaky and you had to press your forehead against his, your hands restless on his wet shoulders. 

"I wasn't like that because of the bet," you confessed and Jaemin's pupils visibly trembled while his lips curved in a little smile. "And I'm not like this now because of it either."

A low sound vibrated in Jaemin's chest before he whispered against your open mouth. 

"So you saying that you're actually a good girl?" 

You nodded, unable to speak as the boy's fingers picked up the pace on your clit. 

"I know," he placed a peck on the corner of your mouth, "you're such a good girl," a peck on your jaw, "especially for me" a peck on your neck. 

You exhaled with a whine and let your head fall back, digging your nails into his skin, finally being able to touch him as you've wanted to do before. Jaemin took the opportunity to let his lips descend to your nipples, sucking them inside the warmth of his mouth, twirling the buds with his wet tongue until it was unbearable for you to not moan his name uncontrollably. 

Your body was all mush when you came again with an almost scream, pulling his head against your chest until his fingertips left your throbbing clit and traced your thigh, going around it and palming your ass. When you finally unclenched your arms from around his neck, he looked up from between the swell of your breasts with a soft giggle. 

"Sorry," you mumbled but he shook his head, a kind of adoration in his eyes that you've never seen before. 

"I loved it-," he started but stopped abruptly afterwards, as if not wanting to let the words aching on his tongue to roll freely. 

You sat down deeper on his thighs until your eyes were at the same level. 

"And?" you touched his chest slowly, fingers still trembling from the high. 

He swallowed, mind running at an incredibly high speed reflected in his suddenly troubled eyes. 

"And I think that-- fuck, I might love you as well." 

Oh. 

It made your whole body shake again. 

Jaemin noticed and you wondered what kind of expression you had on to make him look so worried all of a sudden. 

"Is it too much? Too soon?" he cupped your face with one hand.  

You couldn't look him in the eyes. "I don't know-- I just-" 

Jaemin shushed you. "It's alright. You don't have to do or say anything."

You shook your head and raised your gaze. "I just- I really want to let myself go and believe it."

The boy stayed silent for a moment as if wondering what his next words should be and you hated it. Nights and nights of talking freely with him made you understand how refreshing it was to be yourself and not walk on eggshells around people. And you knew that Jaemin felt the same. Seeing him now, delicate fingers on your skin as if afraid to break you, made your heart ache.  

"You care too much, Jaemin. Don't worry about me like this. We've talked about it."

Jaemin briefly licked his lower lip. "How can I not care about you when no one has cared about you before?" 

And you choked on the amount of tears that suddenly made your vision blurry.  

The boy pulled you towards him and you rested your forehead on his shoulder. "I know," he talked with a shaky voice, "I know I'm too kind and all that stuff and everything you've said is true, I need to change for my own sake, but-," his arms held you even more tightly, "not when it comes to you. I want to be like that with you. And I'm going to change, yes, I'll say no and refuse to do things people ask of me if this is what you want."

His words didn't make your sobs slow down but you raised your face and touched his cheeks. 

"Then I want you to care about yourself the way you care about me, Jaemin." 

"I care about myself now, because you care about me." 

You chuckled. "That's still doing stuff for other people." Jaemin smiled and stroked your under eye with his thumbs. "It's not for other people. It's for you. Because I love you, Y/N." 

You bit your lower lip as a new tide of tears announced their way. 

“I never said I care about you though,” your lower lip trembled after you let it go. “You don’t have to say it.” “I hate you.” “Yeah,” he kissed your lips. “And I don’t like cuddles and I don’t like breakfast.” “Yeah,” he kissed you again. 

And again. 

Until you didn’t let him go anymore and he was sure of being loved back. 

[writing-in-april]

The Owner’s Office

Franklin x Female Reader (MGG in Beginner’s luck)

Summary: Franklin won’t stop asking the owner of the bowling alley if he can have a discount when the team rents the alley.

A/N: Heyyy heyyy- here’s my first Franklin fic in a while!!! It’s been sitting in my WIPs in a while and I felt the urge to finish it! @sunlight-moonrise is the main person who helped inspire me for this fic- and of course the amazing @spencers-dria. This is my fic for today for my 1000 follower celebration!!! Thanks for all the support you guys!!! Requests are open!

Warnings: 18+, Hate fucking, Panties stuffed in mouth, Oral sex (M receiving), Franklin wants to be called a god, calling reader a fuck toy

Main Masterlist  Word count: 2.1k

Owning the most popular bowling alley in Little Falls was more of an exhausting task then most people would assume. I had to work everyday almost 7 days a week to maintain my small business that I had inherited from my father. Honestly, some days I was so exhausted, the gain seemingly so little that if it wasn’t for wanting to keep the business to continue what my father built I would sell it in a heartbeat.

The alley wasn’t anything all that grand or special from a first glance, it was a stereotypical bowling alley with orange and turquoise walls and bright red seats. What really made this place special was all the memories I and the rest of Little Falls had here.

The space that I used as my office was more of a closet then a full office, it also had to have the mop bucket and any other cleaning supplies shoved in there. The desk that was jammed into the space was a shitty little thing, unbalanced and made of cold grey metal that made me shiver whenever I rested my arms on it to type. One would not call the place charming but it was mine, just as it had been my father’s.

When the business had passed onto me I decided to keep the office the same way my father had it. Despite its shitty appearance that was where I ended up spending most of my time while I worked. I had to spend most of my day going through paperwork for the alley and barely had time to come out of my office unless it was right before closing to help the rest of the staff (Namely Rebecca) to clean up.

Usually the times I had to come out were because of one person. Though, at this point I view him as the source of all the annoyance in my life more so than an actual person.

Franklin.

I could rant all day about my deep seated loathing for the man that everyone in Little Falls called their god. Well, everyone except me. He was the person who strutted around like he owned the place- even though I was the one who paid the bills for the place. Most of my gripe with him was for the fact that he would insist that his whole team could have the bowling alley to themselves while they practiced. For some reason he had some deep seated paranoia that people would spy on his team. This led to many arguments between the two of us, mostly about how he didn’t want to pay rent because his team was the only thing bringing money to my alley or about how I didn’t give them enough time to practice. In return I would just tell him to take his business somewhere else if he really cared so much about the rent or needed more practice time.

As I walked in to work my mood was already sour, I had spilled my morning coffee all over me and was running late because I had to change my clothes. As the owner of the alley it didn’t really matter what time I came in but, I had myself stick to a strict schedule, I wanted to be a good role model for my staff. My mood turned from sour to livid when I saw Franklin sitting in one of the chairs at the last lane that happened to be closest to the door to my office. I groaned internally at the sight, the only reason he’d ever show up without his team was to try and chew me out about his practice schedule.

I did not need this today.

Luckily, there was only one bowler here this early and he happened to be at the farthest lane away from my office, no doubt being warned by the staff to be far away from my office as soon as they saw Franklin walk in. My greeting to him consisted of only an angry pointed finger towards the door trying to usher him in quickly before I exploded in the middle of the alley.

“I deserve an 80% discount.” He said immediately after I shut the door to my office. With the amount of times I rolled my eyes everyday in response to Franklin’s antics it was a wonder that they didn’t get stuck in that position.

“And what’s the reason this time that you think you deserve a discount.”

“My team is the only reason your alley pulls in any money.”

“That’s not true.” I simply stated, crossing my arms and looking away from the face that causes me to feel such boiling anger.

“Can I at least get a better practice schedule?”

“No.”

“Why not?” His indignation against a person in some sort of position of authority above him was astounding, he even added to my disbelief by hitting his hand hard enough on my desk to leave a slight dent. Well, that was never leaving. Though it's not like it was a particularly fancy desk, I was still even more pissed than I had been in the first place.

“I’ve given my reason why plenty of times you just don’t listen.” I was about to shove him out of my pathetic excuse for an office if he continued.

“Why should I have to listen to stupid reasonings?”

“Fuck- could you please just shut up!” Me screaming at him to shut up wasn’t out of place in our normal hostile conversations, something about the pause after my shout this time was brewing a different type of tension.

When we met for a kiss it was fueled with the anger that had been surmounting over a long period of time, since as long as I’d known him. If I wouldn’t have to explain why he was leaving my office shirtless I would’ve ripped open the big-z tires shirt he was wearing out of pure anger. Once we had angrily ripped off all of our clothes he hoisted me up onto my metal desk. I hissed from the sudden contact of the cold metal on my ass which only made Franklin laugh. I glared at him hard in response, but unfortunately he did not wither away from my gaze, so I decided to lightly threaten him with extreme embarrassment,

“I’ll kick you out of here without your clothes on, shut up.”

That successfully shut him up quick, and he actually focused on my own pleasure for a while. He didn’t sink down on his knees to eat me out because of course Franklin wouldn’t kneel for anybody. He instead parted my folds and began to rub my clit slowly, he had to be a tease instead of just obliging someone for once.

When I whined out in annoyance at his slow movements he tsked at me before saying, “I’m trying to get you ready for how big I am.”

It pained me to admit that he was right as I looked at his cock, which was probably the biggest one I’ve ever been with. I still decided to whine again to see what he’d do in response. When my panties were then shoved into my mouth as a makeshift gag I spluttered in surprise. I would have ripped it out of my mouth in anger if it wasn’t the hottest thing. Plus the words that he said next did nothing to help how wet I was between my legs, “Now you’re the one that has to shut up.”

Once I was properly prepped for his standards he immediately moved onto his pleasure, I hoped I at least got an orgasm out of this. But, if I was being honest with myself I was more turned on right now than I had ever been with another guy. He thrust into me all the way to the hilt with no warning, causing me to cry out in surprise. Glad I was ready enough to take him, he’s such an ass.

Though despite that, I wouldn’t deny that he felt amazing inside of me as he fucked me hard and dirty on my office desk.

“Who’s your god now?” His cocky voice made me want to scream, which I did, but it was more out of pleasure rather than annoyance. He then pulled the panties out of my mouth even though if anyone heard how loud I was right now my employees would whisper behind my back about it till the end of time. What he said next didn’t surprise me at all,  “I want to hear you call me a god, doll. You’re just a bratty little fuck doll for your god’s pleasure.”

“I’m not calling you a god. Doesn’t-” My sentence cut off when Franklin moved his hand to rub at my clit, shocks of pleasure going through me as a result. I bit down on my lip to try in vein to compose myself a little before continuing, “Doesn’t matter if you’re fucking me, you’re still not a god.”

“I’m still the person who’s gonna make you have the best orgasm of your life.”

“I-I’d like to see you try.” And try he did. His hips pistoned into mine with brute strength I didn’t think such a lanky man like him could have. We were probably being so loud that you could hear our skin slapping together rhythmically plus the loud moans that wouldn’t stop coming out of my mouth. Even though it was the hardest thing to admit, he was about to make me orgasm so hard it might’ve been the best one of my life.

I fell over the edge with a high pitched cry, Franklin continuing to rub my clit until I was overstimulated and had to push his hand away. I pushed his shoulder slightly to signal that he needed to get off me then explaining, “There’s no way I’m letting you cum inside me, you can cum in my mouth or nothing else.”

He looked annoyed with me for a second, almost if he wanted to ask if he cumming on my face would be a viable alternative. Luckily for the sake of his own orgasm he decided to keep his mouth shut. I then dropped down to my knees, ignoring the sharp little sting of pain as I took him in my mouth. It only took a little bit of time of me bobbing me head up and down, making sure to hollow my cheeks as best as I could. At one point he tried to wind his hands into my hair as a way to non verbally ask if he could fuck my face. If it had been anyone but Franklin I probably would’ve allowed them too, but instead I hit his hand away, looking up between my lashes with a glare to silently tell him to be grateful he was getting to finish at all. Hot thick ropes of his cum then suddenly shot down my throat with little warning from him, causing me to gag slightly, I’m sure he probably enjoyed that. I wasn’t one to not swallow personally, even if I did hate his guts it was still hot to swallow his cum down my throat. Once I had sufficiently caught my breath I started to clean myself up and get my clothes on, not expecting any aftercare from the bowling alley’s resident asshole.

“So-  Do I get that discount?” I whipped around as I rebuttoned up my shirt about to start our argument all over again until I saw a smirk on his face unlike the ones I had seen before. It wasn’t his usual cocky smirk, instead it was a teasing one, he was actually joking with me for once instead of screaming at me. I breathed out a little laugh in response and let the tension melt from my shoulders a little.

It was a relief to not fight with him for once and I kinda liked this Franklin. He still had an aura of smugness around him, but he wasn’t insufferable. He was maybe even a little likeable when he wasn’t screaming his head off at me. In response to his joke I rebutted with a little smirk, “You may not be an actual god but you sure fuck like one. And, no, of course you don’t get the discount.”

Tag list (Message me if you want to be added):

All works:

@shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin

Franklin/Beginner’s luck:

[hongism]

as you wish - jaehyun smut

pairing: jaehyun x female reader

genre: ceo!jaehyun, assistant!reader, smut, absolute filth guys

word count: 3544

warnings: daddy kink, semi-public smut, choking, thigh riding, facefucking, deepthroating, throat bulging, oral sex: male receiving, oral: female receiving, sir kink, size kink, unprotecc sex, cum eating, cum swallowing, creampie, fingering, filth, absolute filth, fucking filth y'all, corruption kink, overuse of baby girl and princess, possessive!jaehyun, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, dom!jaehyun, sub!reader, teasing, breast play, nipple play, pussy slapping, overstimulation, praise, basically both have a pain kink, reader cries bc jaehyun's big dick is that good, this is not a proper boss assistant relationship like y'all no, but do i care? fuck that no I don't, yes this is kick it jaehyun, no don't come for me jfc this warning list is LONG

summary: maybe you and your boss don't have the most professional relationship, but he's so good at fucking you that you don't think twice about it.

a/n: ...don't ask. this is gratuitous smut and absolute filth and I have zero shame, so don't ask pls this is for @parksfilter​ @franklytae​ and myself. also thank you dearest fram for this sexy ass banner :3

…

...

“Sir? Your 4 o’clock appointment came by early.” You step into the dimly lit office to find your boss sitting behind his desk, as usual, eyes glued to his computer even as you speak. “Mr. Jung,” you speak a bit louder in hopes of catching his attention. Sure enough the man glances up at you, dark eyes finding yours as he looks at you over the rim of his glasses.

“Yes, Miss L/N?”

“Your 4 o’clock.”

“It’s 3:36, Miss L/N. Not 4 o’clock. You’re early. As is my client.”

“Well sir, Mr. Kim asked me to remind you that you were rather late to the last meeting.” You grin at your boss, teeth shining through the smile. His lips quirk into a small smile. “So, Jaehyun, who’s fault was that?”

“Yours actually, Y/N. Someone was taking her sweet time… taking care of business. Go tell Mr. Kim that I will see him at 4 o’clock and no sooner.” Jaehyun pushes his chair back from the desk, eyes still not leaving yours, and steps around the side of the wood. His fingers run along the surface. He barely traces it, a delicate touch that makes you think of less than holy things. “I meant now, Miss L/N. I only have 21 minutes to conduct certain business with you.”

“Of course, Mr. Jung. I’ll be back shortly.” You turn on your heel, spinning to face the door, and step out with haste. Jaehyun’s eyes follow you as you go, you can feel the heat of his gaze on your backside. The door clicks shut behind you though and blocks the feel of his eyes for the time being. “Mr. Kim!” You greet with a wide grin. Said man’s eyes flit up to yours as you smile down at the place where he awaits you.

“Is Jaehyun ready for me?”

“No, actually. He asked that we wait until 4 o’clock precisely. He has a bit of paperwork that needs to be concluded before your meeting if that’s alright?”

“I thought you were supposed to mention his previous–”

“I did, but as you know, I answer to my boss’s orders only. I’ll come back to bring you in at 4 o’clock, Mr. Kim.”

“Ah, I see, Miss. As you wish.” The man sitting before you nods his head once at you.

“Actually sir, it’s as Mr. Jung wishes, but I’ll pass on the message.”

Your heels click against the hard floor as you walk away from the businessman. A smile still plays at your lips because you know what’s waiting for you behind your boss’ door. You don’t bother knocking before stepping back into his office. One hand trails over the dark wood, slipping over the lock and twisting it to the right, then you turn to face Jaehyun.

“Miss L/N, what did my client say?” He asks from his place in front of his desk. The suit fits him too well, and you see that now that he’s standing before you in full glory like this.

“As you wish, Mr. Jung.” You walk towards the man, hand on your collar, and pop the top three buttons of your blouse open.

“Hmm, I quite like the sound of that, Miss L/N.” He reaches out to snatch you by the waist. “Wearing a red number under a white shirt is a bit risky, don’t you think?”

“Do you think so? Maybe you’ll have to punish me for it then… sir.” Jaehyun’s hand trails up from your waist, delicate touch brushing the valley between your breasts. Goosebumps rise across your skin as he touches you. He hums at the sight, lips quirking into a small smirk at the same time, then glances up to your face before speaking again.

“Something tells me you’d like to be punished though, princess.” You roll your eyes at the comment. Stopping your gaze on the wall over to your right, you check the clock.

“19 minutes, Jaehyun.”

“Careful with that mouth, princess, or I’ll just go ahead and cancel the meeting altogether.” Jaehyun leans forward to press his warm lips against the column of your neck.

“You wouldn’t,” you whisper before letting your head fall back under Jaehyun’s ministrations. He chuckles against your skin. It sends ripples of pleasure through you, and you are forced to bite back the moan threatening to climb out of your mouth.

“As you wish,” he mutters back before leaning away from you. Twisting, you try to pull away from the man, but he locks you in place with his thighs, squeezing you between them before you can step back. He turns to his phone and taps away at some buttons while keeping one hand firmly on your waist. “Mr. Kim! Yes, yes, it’s Jaehyun. I hate to do this so last minute, but we had some paperwork complications come up just now. Would we be able to push the meeting to 5 o’clock? Yes? Wonderful. Again, I’m sorry for the inconvenience.” The call ends a moment later, and Jaehyun returns to smirking at you.

“I cannot believe you,” you hiss out. Your boss merely laughs. One hand slips between your legs to push them apart. The tight material of your skirt stops him from continuing the motion. You have to smile at the almost annoyed gleam that crosses Jaehyun’s eyes as he realizes the obstruction; however, it doesn’t last long because he pushes the material up over your thighs and ass for better access. You sink down onto Jaehyun’s thick muscled thigh before you know it.

“I have a lot of paperwork to attend to since my assistant got snippy.” Jaehyun’s teeth drag across his lower lip. He rocks his thigh upward. Pressure hits your clit, bringing a sharp wave of pleasure over you, and you grab him by the shoulders to stabilize yourself. “Fuck yourself against my thigh, baby girl. I wanna see my good little girl get off on Daddy’s thigh.”

“F-Fuck–” you gasp as Jaehyun rocks against you, not giving you a chance to speak or breathe before he yanks you closer by the collar.

“That’s an order, baby girl.”

“Yes–yes sir.” You slowly drag your body forward, letting the feel of his muscled leg against your core wash over you. Jaehyun’s fingers work at the rest of the buttons on your blouse. He works them open deftly before reaching around your back to pop the clasp of your bra. You do him the favor of yanking both your blouse and bra off. They’re thrown somewhere behind you, but you don’t have time to glance back and check because Jaehyun’s lips are latching around one of your nipples without warning. You instinctively buck against him. “Fu-uck.” A small whine leaves your lips as Jaehyun’s tongue swirls around your sensitive bud. He gives a sharp suck to it. You watch the skin rise up under his lips, teeth sinking into your lower lip. His other hand finds its way to your other breast and massaging it with his large hand. He pulls off with a cocky grin to his lips.

“You sound so innocent and needy. No matter how many times I corrupt you, you still act all innocent.” Another whine slips out, Jaehyun’s long fingers toying with your nipples as he speaks. “Listen to yourself. I want to ruin you. Turn you into my own little slut.” Jaehyun pushes up, bringing you with him, and you yet again have to brace yourself on his shoulders.

“You haven’t ruined me yet, sir.” Lifting a hand to Jaehyun’s face, you trace his sharp jawline with your index finger. The light touch coaxes goosebumps out of his skin, ones that rise to meet your finger as you move along his features. “But I would quite like it if you did.” Your words come out like a purr. They have a visceral effect on Jaehyun, his whole body lurching forward and pushing your back to the edge of his desk roughly. The sensation sends ripples of pain through your body only for a moment before it passes and leaves you quivering in excitement underneath him.

“Turn around. Now.”

You don’t wait to be told twice and spin as quickly as you’re able to given Jaehyun’s close proximity to you. A hand comes down against your ass. The skin ripples under Jaehyun’s touch. Even with your underwear, you’re certain that his touch will leave a nice handprint across your skin. Besides the underwear doesn’t last long. Jaehyun yanks it down with one hand, the other finds your bare back and pushes you until your face presses against his desk. Something is digging into your stomach – probably his stapler or something of the like – and you try your best to wiggle it out of the way. Jaehyun must think you’re attempting to misbehave though because his hand comes down against your ass again. The sting is sharper this time now that you aren’t wearing any underwear, but you revel in it nonetheless.

“Da-addy, something’s hurting my side,” you call out to the man behind you.

“Oh? I should’ve cleaned the desk off beforehand. My apologies, baby girl.” The hand on your back snakes it’s way up to your head, latching onto your hair and yanking your body back. A wanton moan escapes at the sharp tug. Jaehyun ignores your whining in favor of sweeping his belongings to the side, leaving an open space for you to fall back against when he releases your hair. “I’ll make it up to you, princess, don’t worry.”

“I never do,” you giggle back. You can see his form out the corner of your eye. He must know that you can as well because he’s making a show out of taking his jacket off and rolling his sleeves up his forearms. You have to bite your lip to keep a moan from slipping out. Then, Jaehyun dips out of sight.

Cold fingers brush your slick folds, toying with the wetness pooled at your core. You gasp and lurch further forward on his desk, blindly grasping for some sort of support as he pushes two digits in without warning. The stretch is sudden and a bit uncomfortable at first, but soon he’s working you open like it’s common practice. The pads of his fingers toy around your sweet spot, teasing and prodding but never fully touching it, and you buck your hips back against his fingers in attempts to get him to hit that spot. It almost works, but Jaehyun crooks his fingers inside you at the same time. The suddenness of the action catches you off-guard. It also brings you to your first orgasm, walls clenching around his thick fingers, pulsing and tightening on him as you ride out your orgasm.

“Naughty naughty, little girl.” His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth. “Roll over, face up.” Your mind is a bit muddled and fuzzy already. Jaehyun smacks the flat of his hand against your wet pussy, and it brings a jolt through you, an encouragement to get moving and roll over faster. Apparently, it’s still not fast enough for Jaehyun because he yanks you forward by the legs until your cunt is right in front of his lips. You nearly clench your thighs around his head just at the sight of him between your legs like that, but you resist the temptation in favor of throwing your head back in pleasure. He drags the flat of his tongue against your sopping folds. It’s slow at first, almost teasing in the way he laps at your heat, but he seems to realize that the two of you are still on a time crunch. Next thing you know, his tongue is prodding at your entrance. He builds up a quick rhythm, no longer wasting time in fucking his tongue in and out of you, and you reach down to grab hold of his hair. Fingers intertwine with his dark locks, and he groans against your pussy. The vibrations go straight to your clit, sending waves of pleasure through you. It’s enough to send another orgasm through your body, and it’s like little jolts of electricity shoot through you, making you see stars.

“O-Oh fu-fuck Jaehyun, fuck fuck. Fuck, Jaehyun, ju-ust like that, please. Yes, yes, yes,” you ramble, already halfway to losing yourself in the pleasure despite barely getting started. Jaehyun chuckles against you, sucking at your sensitive clit as he pulls off you.

“It seems that someone forgot what my title is.” A hand slaps your cunt. The sound that resonates is a wet and disgusting one, one that has you writhing under Jaehyun’s touch and has him slapping your pussy again when you fail to respond. “Get it right, slut. You have two options. Say them both.”

“S-Sir!” You cry out when his palm hits your clit again. “Sir an-and Daddy.”

“Good girl.” Jaehyun coos and rewards you with a small kiss pressed to your clit. “Up. I wanna fuck your pretty little mouth.” You prop yourself up on your elbows, chest heaving as you look up at Jaehyun, who’s getting to his feet himself. The sight distracts you a moment. His hair is ruffled and unkempt thanks to your touch, tie off-kilter and loose, lips and chin glistening with your juices, and it’s such a breathtaking sight that you lose your train of thought. “I said up.” Jaehyun pulls you back to reality by tugging your body forward, fingers clenched around your hips and pulling you off the desk. You nearly fall face first into his crotch, nose actually bumping the bulge in his trousers. He’s nearly bursting out of his pants. You grin at the thought of the large present hiding behind the material and resituate yourself so that you’re more comfortable on your knees before him.

“Yes sir,” you murmur as your fingers work his buttons and zipper apart. One sharp tug to the band of his pants and underwear is enough to spring his cock loose. He’s quite blessed, to be frank – thick and long, such that you have to use two hands to cover his whole length.

“Don’t just stare at me, baby girl.‌ Get to work.” You do as told, moistening your lips, then take the head of his cock into your mouth. He hisses at the contact. Your eyes snap up to his face as he makes the sound and gauge his reaction. He looks pleased already, tongue toying with the corner of his mouth while watching you bop your head up and down along his member. You hum around him. “F-Fuck, baby girl, let me fuck your mouth. Let me fuck it, shit.” His hand works its way into your hair and tightens around it. He lets you pull off to catch your breath once, a thin line of saliva connecting your lips and his shaft, then he pushes it back into your mouth. It fills you up before you’re even halfway down his member.‌ He keeps pushing and pushing though, and you thank your lucky stars for the lack of a gag reflex because you feel his cock press its way into your throat.

Jaehyun hisses above you. You can’t look up at him, too focused on his member, but he keeps groaning and hissing so much that you have to glance up at his expression. His eyes aren’t locked on your mouth or his cock, rather he’s looking past both things. The hand in your hair shifts, a light touch tracing down your skin until it reaches your throat.

“Fuck, you’re so tiny that my big cock bulges in your little throat. That’s the hottest shit I’ve ever seen, baby girl. Look at you.” Jaehyun’s hand slips back up to your hair and latches on. He braces himself on it, thrusting slowly in and out of your mouth. He presses into your throat with each thrust. The corners of your eyes are moist with tears, and they’ll begin to fall before he cums, but you try to focus on breathing around his fat cock rather than the tears. “You take my dick so well, princess. You’re doing so well, fu-uck. Such a good little slut for Daddy, aren’t you?” You can neither nod nor hum in approval around him, his cock filling you up too much to do either. Jaehyun doesn’t seem to expect an answer though. He keeps fucking your mouth, pace speeding up more and more as time goes on, and breathing is becoming more and more of a struggle. Still, he’s close and hot cum spills down your throat a moment later, nearly choking you from the sheer quantity of it and the lack of air in your lungs. Bringing a hand up to his hip, you drum your fingers against his bare skin three times, a small signal that you need him to pause for you. He pulls out immediately. “Are you alright, love?” He asks as you gasp for breath. The hand in your hair reaches around to cup your chin, lifting your face to his. Jaehyun stoops down to be eye to eye with you. “Color?”

“G-Green,” you gasp out. A small smile spreads across your lips as you see the relief in Jaehyun’s eyes. He must still be concerned though because your tears are already falling. “Fuck me, sir. Fuck me please?”

“Absolutely, baby girl. How do you want me?”

“Fuck me from behind. Bend me over your desk?” You plead as Jaehyun drags his fingers over your tear stricken cheeks.

“Ask nicely first, baby girl.”

“Daddy please bend me over your desk and fu-uck me like the little slut I am,” you beg, writhing under him.

“There we go, slut.” Jaehyun pulls you up by the arms and drags you over to his desk. You whine as he roughly pushes you up against it, letting him manhandle you into the position he wants you in, and there’s a sick sort of pleasure in letting him move you around like you’re his toy. Your face meets the cold wood of his desk again, cheek pressed to the surface so that you can look back and see what Jaehyun is doing behind you. His member is already hardening again, thanks to some help from his messy jerks, and within a few moments, he’s pressing the head against your wet hole.

He starts with a slow push. Despite his preparations, your cunt is still extremely tight around him. He takes extra care in thrusting slowly into you until he’s buried all the way in you. You whine at the sensation of being completely filled up by Jaehyun, coupled with your sensitive state from already orgasming twice. He goes slow at first; shallow and dragged out thrusts until you both get used to the sensation. Then, his speed picks up, thick member dragging across your slick velvety walls. Moans tumble from your lips without ceasing. You can’t bother being quiet as the sensation of Jaehyun’s cock in your tight pussy is too good for you to think straight. He groans as your walls tighten around him, clenching in rhythm with his quick thrusts.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby girl. No mat–no matter how many times I fuck you, you’re always so tight. Is my cock the only one you take? Are you my dirty little slut?”

“Yes, yes, Daddy, yes. I am sir, I’m yours. Only yours. Fuuuck I’m all yours.” Jaehyun’s thrusts speed up as you speak those words.

“That’s right, baby girl. All mine.” He’s already starting to falter with the rhythm of his thrusts, and with the way his cock is curving against your g spot, you know that you’re going to hit another high any second now. “Cum for me, baby girl. Cum around Daddy’s cock, yea?” You release a whine. Jaehyun gives a particularly harsh thrust, and it’s enough to send you over the brink and into another wave of orgasming. Your sight all but goes white from the sensation, stars in the corners of your vision. Jaehyun follows close behind.‌ Your walls tightening and pulsating around his member brings him to another orgasm himself. Hot seed pushes into you, filling you up, and you moan at the warmth in you. Jaehyun pants above you. Sweat on his brow, white shirt clinging to his body and showing the tan skin underneath, he cages you in with his arms.

“Damn,” you exhale as the orgasm passes.

“Damn is right.” Jaehyun pulls his softening member out of you. The absence of his cock immediately makes you feel cold, especially as you feel his cum sliding out of your pussy as well. “You did so well, baby girl. So so well.”

“Thank you, sir,” you mumble, too spent to say anything else.

“Now I hate to break it to you, but there’s a 5 o’clock appointment I need you to go fetch for me.”

“Oh fuck off!”‌ You call out, huffing as Jaehyun’s hands run over the curve of your ass. He chuckles to himself. “You can go get him yourself and explain why you’re late.”

“That’s for my assistant to do.”

“Your assistant seems to do a lot of things for you,” you counter.

“She’s quite good at her job, I must say. Now, let’s get you cleaned up and dressed properly again?”

“As you wish, Mr. Jung.”

...

a/n: ...i have no words tbh buuuuut i hope you guys do!!! please let me know what you think and share your feedback with me!

all these works are copyright 2020 calypso, jungtaeyoongles, all rights reserved.

[into-the-daniverse]

Infinite Love | 🍋 | Alec x Matilda

In which, Alec and Matilda attempt to wind down for the evening, but it doesn’t quite go as planned.

A birthday present for my dearest @valhallanrose​! (And a present for anyone who wanted to see Alec being a bit more dominant/topping her partner, really.) Thank you for letting me use your beautiful Matilda for this piece and thank you in general for sharing all of your lovely OCs and multitudes of brain worms with me! 🥺💖

CW: Oral sex (for both parties), penetration, overstimulation 

Title: Infinite Love by Emile Mosseri 2.7k words

“I thought you said you were coming to bed an hour ago.”

Matilda looked up from her work, sorting piles of scrap fabric that were almost taller than her head as she sat. Alec stood against the doorframe, arms crossed in front of her chest, a pout on her lips. Sheepishly, Matilda set down the fabric in her hands, pushing loose blue curls out of her face.

“I was… but I suppose I got distracted.”

With a dramatic sigh, Alec pushed off the door, walking over to her girlfriend. “Come on.” She held her hands out to Matilda. “Those scraps aren’t going anywhere, and I can help you in the morning when I’m less tired.”

Matilda took Alec’s hands with a smile, planting a quick kiss to her cheek once she was standing. “What would I do without you?”

Alec grinned, kissing Matilda’s cheek back. “Get distracted until the sun comes up, I imagine.”

“That’s not—”

Matilda’s argument died away as Alec picked her up in her arms, hands under her knees and on her back. With a startled laugh, she threw her arms around Alec’s shoulders, gripping tighter as Alec adjusted her hold. Alec started walking them both to the bedroom, kissing Matilda’s cheek each step of the way until Matilda turned her head to kiss her on the lips instead.

Once they reached the bedroom, Alec laid Matilda on the bed, and started moving her lips down her neck, hands undoing the lacing of her dress behind her back. The room was lit by a few flickering lamps, casting soft, warm shadows around them, curtains closed long ago when Alec had first tried to get them to go to bed.

“I thought you were tired,” Matilda said, a teasing lift to her voice. She was starting to undo Alec’s braid with her deft fingers, pulling her waves free to cascade down her back and over her shoulders.

“Hm, did I say that?” Alec spoke into Matilda’s skin, her teeth grazing her collarbone.

Matilda nodded, sighing as the bodice of her dress came loose. “You were too tired to help me sort scrap fabric just a few moments ago.”

“Babe.” Alec pulled back to look at Matilda, frowning. “Are you saying that you would rather me help you sort fabric than continue undressing you?” Her hands kept undoing Matilda’s dress even as she spoke, pulling her skirt down her legs and tossing it to the side.

“Well…” When Alec gasped indignantly, Matilda laughed, pulling Alec’s face to hers to pepper kisses on her cheeks. “I’m just kidding, amore. But you better help me in the morning.”

Alec groaned, but the smile returned to her face, and she kissed Matilda. “You’re so lucky I love you.”

Matilda giggled, letting Alec push her onto her back among the soft sheets. “I love you too.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alec said, smiling too much to be mistaken for being annoyed, and she sat back on her heels, pulling her shirt over her head. She sighed as the cool air of the room hit her bare chest, and gasped when she felt Matilda’s hands cup her breasts, rolling her nipples between her fingertips. Impatiently, Alec kicked off her skirt and underwear until the only things she was still wearing were her jewelry, bracelets and anklets chiming as she crawled over Matilda. She guided one of Matilda’s hands between her legs and let her feel the warmth and wetness building there.

“Already?” Matilda teased, but the way her breath caught when Alec shifted her hips against her touch betrayed her nonchalance.

“You’re one to talk,” Alec replied, her hand ghosting over Matilda’s own arousal, still covered by her own underwear. Matilda bit her lip, holding Alec’s gaze, a silent plea in her eyes as her hands rested on Alec’s hips.

“Amore…”

Alec smiled, moving forward until she was positioned right above Matilda’s face, and spread her legs apart. “Is this what you want, baby?”

Nodding, Matilda stared up at Alec through her eyelashes, squeezing her thighs gently. “Yes.”

Alec lowered herself just enough that she could almost graze Matilda’s nose with her pussy. “That’s not how you ask though, is it?”

“Alec.” Matilda groaned, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh. When Alec made no sign of moving further, she sighed, her breath tickling Alec. “Please let me eat you out… my spoiled principessa.”

“Hey!” Alec pouted, but before she could complain, Matilda’s mouth was on her, her tongue parting the folds of Alec’s labia. Alec moaned, sinking lower onto her girlfriend’s face so she could feel her nose rub against her clit as her tongue started fucking her.

Alec bucked her hips against Matilda as she ate her out, unable to stop the desperate noises that left her lips. “Ah, baby—” Matilda sucked on her clit and Alec cried out, throwing her head back in pleasure. Matilda’s hands squeezed Alec’s thighs, nails digging into her skin, and she moaned into Alec’s pussy. It didn’t take long for that familiar knot below Alec’s stomach to form, and she rode Matilda’s face as she came, feeling Matilda lick her through her orgasm.

Before she could get too overstimulated, Alec pulled herself off of Matilda, shifting down the bed to take her girlfriend’s face in her hands and kiss her, tasting her own cum on her tongue. When she stopped, the two of them panting against each other’s lips, Alec smiled.

“You’re so good to me, honey.”

Matilda smiled back at her, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. “You make it so easy.”

Alec stuck her tongue out at her, scrunching her nose up. “Like you don’t love it.”

“Oh, I most definitely do.”

Running her hand down Matilda’s chest, Alec gave her breast a gentle squeeze, watching as Matilda’s lips parted with a soft gasp. Alec pressed her leg between Matilda’s, grinding her arousal against her thigh. “Will you let me return the favor?”

“I thought you would never ask.”

Alec kissed her one more time before rolling off of the bed, walking over to the chest of her own personal items that she kept at Matilda’s place. Glancing over her shoulder, she raised an eyebrow as she smirked at Matilda. “I need all of that underwear to be gone by the time I come back, Tilly.”

Matilda laughed through her nose, but didn’t argue, and as Alec bent to search through her chest, something landed on her shoulders. She reached over to grab it, and almost dropped it when she realized it was Matilda’s underwear. Alec looked back at her girlfriend, cheeks burning. Matilda looked very smug, spreading her legs open as she sat on the bed, propped up on her arms. She gave Alec an innocent pout.

“What?”

Alec’s blush deepened, but she tried to play it off, tossing Matilda’s underwear into the pile of their clothes already on the floor. After another moment of searching, she pulled out a dark leather harness, and a blush pink dildo. They had gone shopping for the size together—which was a memory that always made Alec feel warm inside—so she knew it was exactly what Matilda wanted.

Turning back towards the bed, Alec started to step into the harness, slipping the dildo in place, when she heard a stifled snort. Alec grumbled, only feeling herself blush even more as she looked up at Matilda.

“The more you laugh at me, the longer this will take, you know.”

Matilda started, shaking her head. “I’m not laughing at you!” Even as she said it, Alec could see the corners of her mouth twitch up. Alec hummed, and, while holding her girlfriend’s gaze, jumped in the harness, the pink dildo waving around in the air. That was enough to send Matilda over the edge, covering her face as she erupted into giggles.

“See! You are laughing at me.” Alec tried to sound offended, but she truly wasn’t. Not when Matilda looked and sounded so cute when she laughed, snorts accompanying her laughter.

“I’m sorry!” Matilda peeked at Alec through her fingers, shoulders still shaking with mirth. “It’s just—you look a little ridiculous, sweetheart.”

As she tightened the last strap, securing it all firmly in place, Alec pouted, but the lift in her eyebrow slowly pulled it into a smile instead, embarrassment gone. “That’s not a very nice thing to say to your lovely, beautiful girlfriend, who—I feel the need to add—is about to make very passionate love to you.” She climbed back onto the bed, leaning over Matilda to pull her hands away from her face. “You won’t think I look ridiculous when I’m inside you, hm?”

Matilda smiled, reaching up to hold Alec’s face, gently tugging her down to meet her lips. “I suppose we’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

Alec hummed in agreement as she kissed her, eyes fluttering shut. She felt Matilda’s hands tangle in her hair and nipped at her lip to get her to open her mouth and deepen the kiss. After a moment, Alec leaned back, and placed two of her fingers on Matilda’s plush bottom lip.

“Get them nice and wet for me, baby.”

With a soft moan, Matilda parted her mouth and let Alec slide her fingers inside, wrapping her tongue around them. She held Alec’s gaze through her thick eyelashes, both of them breathing heavily and starting to grind against each other as she sucked at Alec’s fingers. When Alec pulled her fingers out, a heavy string of saliva following them, she knew they were ready.

Kissing down Matilda’s body, she followed a path she had mapped dozens of times in her head, leaving bite marks in the form of constellations that the two had studied together during late nights spent outside. She teased one of her fingers against Matilda’s ass, glancing up at her as Matilda whimpered.

Alec bit gently at Matilda’s thigh, wrapping her arm around her leg to hold her in place. “Are you ready?”

Nodding, Matilda whispered, “please, amore.”

When Alec’s finger entered her, Matilda moaned, and her legs squeezed together, threatening to close around Alec’s face, but her strong grip kept them apart. As she moved her finger inside Matilda, she took her girlfriend’s arousal into her mouth, sucking in time with her movements. One of Matilda’s hands came to rest on the back of Alec’s head, holding onto her hair as she bobbed up and down. Alec’s second finger joined the first, stretching Matilda open more in preparation for the dildo, and Matilda’s fingers wove into Alec’s hair, tugging at the dark brown strands.

Alec’s fingers pressed tenderly against a spot inside Matilda that had her seeing stars, and her back arched off the bed as Alec took her to the back of her throat and swallowed around her as she came, crying out Alec’s name.

As Matilda came down from her orgasm, Alec kept moving her fingers inside of her, but shifted to sit up, pulling Matilda by her hips closer to her. She leaned down to press a kiss between Matilda’s breasts, feeling her heartbeat under her lips. When she moved back, she pulled her fingers out as well, smiling at the whine Matilda let out, glancing up at Alec with a pleading look.

“Patience, princess,” Alec said, but lined her dildo up with Matilda’s entrance, pushing inside slowly. Matilda gasped as Alec slid all the way in, pressing their hips together. Alec lifted one of Matilda’s legs up over her shoulder so she could reach even deeper, and Matilda’s fingers dug into the sheets around them.

She tried to grind her hips against Alec, but found she had nowhere to move, and searched Alec’s gaze with glittering blue eyes. “Alec, mm, please—please move.”

Alec smiled, and slowly obliged, rocking her hips forward. One arm held Matilda’s leg up by her shoulder, and the other held onto Matilda’s hip, securing her position on the bed as they began to move together.

“Who’s spoiled now?” Alec murmured, kissing the side of Matilda’s calf.

Matilda managed to roll her eyes in amusement, but not much else as Alec thrust deeply inside of her. “Oh, yes—”

Keeping her pace even, Alec took in the sight of her girlfriend beneath her, chest heaving in the still flickering lamplight. Sweat beaded on her skin like pearls, tears from overstimulation caught on her eyelashes like diamonds. No, like stars, Alec thought. Stars caught in the deep pools of her eyes.

Forcing herself out of her head, Alec spoke in what Venterrean she remembered, holding Matilda’s gaze the whole time.

“You are gorgeous, honey. The most beautiful thing I have ever seen, and the sounds you make when we have sex like this—” She thrust harder just to pull a loud cry from Matilda, who flushed, biting down on her bottom lip, but kept watching Alec. “—are lovelier than any song I could write or sing. I could—I could listen to you for the rest of my life and never get tired of the sound of your voice, or your laughter, just like I could never get tired of the way your skin feels under my fingers.”

She leaned forward enough to press Matilda’s knees up to her chest, her hands searching out Matilda’s on the sheets to link their fingers together, palms over Matilda’s head. Alec’s hair hung over their faces, closing them into their own little world, and she kissed under Matilda’s chin as she felt her start to build up towards another orgasm. The harness and the dildo were rubbing against Alec’s clit in just the right way that she thought she might come again, but she was more focused on Matilda instead.

“I want to keep you all to myself, you know,” Alec murmured against Matilda’s neck. “I want to hold you right here, under me, as long as we can stand it.” She squeezed their hands, lifting up again to stare into Matilda’s eyes and feel herself drown, blue against blue shining in the dim light. “And I want to make you feel good every day.”

“You do, tesoro,” Matilda whispered between panting breaths, reaching up to rest their foreheads together. “You always do.”

Alec smiled softly, capturing Matilda’s lips in a kiss as she thrust into her until she found the angle that made Matilda squirm under her, gasping into her mouth. Alec kept murmuring praises under her breath to Matilda as they both approached another orgasm together, though she eventually fell out of Venterrean, having exhausted what she knew there.

Matilda came first, gripping tightly to Alec’s hands as her shoulders rose off the bed, eyes rolling back with a long cry. Her body shook against Alec as she continued to move, whimpering from overstimulation as the motion of fucking into her brought Alec to her own edge, her head falling to Matilda’s chest.

When Alec recovered from her own orgasm, she slowly pulled out of Matilda, both of them groaning together. Before she crashed next to her girlfriend on the bed, Alec undid the harness around her waist, tossing it to the side. But then she was lying next to Matilda, both of them wrapping their arms and legs around the other, pressing gentle kisses to each other’s faces and chests as they caught their breath.

A few minutes later, Matilda was propped up on one elbow, tracing circles lazily over Alec’s stomach as Alec closed her eyes for a moment.

“I love you, Alec,” she said, with such tenderness that Alec’s eyes opened again, searching her face immediately.

“I love you, too, Tilly,” Alec replied, voice tight, rolling on her side to pull Matilda to her chest, burying her face in her curls to hide the lump of emotions in her throat. Matilda wasn’t fooled, but she just laughed through her nose, kissing Alec’s forehead as she started stroking Alec’s hair.

“You were right; you didn’t look ridiculous while making love to me.”

Alec giggled, holding onto Matilda tight.

“And it was very passionate.” Matilda’s voice took on a faux sternness. “But don’t think that means you’re getting out of helping me tomorrow, though. I want to get it all sorted before my first appointment!”

Alec groaned loudly and pretended to try and struggle out of Matilda’s grip, but before she could really make any kind of attempt, the two of them were laughing too hard to care.

[rickywritesstuff]

overstim - bill s preston esq x ted theodore logan

warnings - overstimulation, tics

category - hurt/comfort

a/n - i was super overstimulated in a couple of my classes today + ticcing like crazy all throughout school which inspired me to write this lol

desc - bill is feeling overstimulated but ted won't be at school for a little while. when ted does get to school, he has a surprise for bill to make him feel better.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Bill lightly thumped his fist against his desk, his leg bouncing rapidly as his classmates piled into the room. He played a loud guitar. He dreamed of being in front of a noisy crowd. So why did the noises from his school bother him so much?

The bell rang, causing Bill to yell. He hit himself on the head. He didn't want to or even try to. That was just the way his body worked. It was annoying and stupid. He just wanted to react to things normally.

His leg still bouncing, faster now, Bill squeezed his eyes shut and covered his ears, squeezing the palms of his hands into his ears until he couldn't go any further. He could feel every eye in the classroom on him, hear faint whispers even past his hands covering his ears, but he didn't really care what they thought. He just wanted Ted to be here. He would make it better. But he was at some stupid doctor's appointment, today of all days.

"Bill, if you're going to be a distraction, please leave the class," he heard his teacher say, only faintly.

Bill slowly opened his eyes to see the teacher and every student staring directly at him. Some were whispering, one was covering his mouth in an attempt to hide his laughter. Bill felt his face go hot as he set his hands on his desk, hitting his palm on the desk lightly. His head jerked to the side. "Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry." He wasn't trying to repeat it. He just did.

"Once is enough, Bill," the teacher said, turning back to the chalkboard. A couple people in the class laughed.

Bill set his head on his desk, closing his eyes. He tried to focus on his breathing, but that just made him more uncomfortable, and he shook his hands uncomfortably. His hand jerked and a noise came out of his mouth.

He wished he was dead.

No.

He wished Ted were here.

He wished he and Ted were the only people in the world, that they were free to do and say whatever they wanted without anyone to judge them or tell them no.

Because Ted wouldn't stare at him. He wouldn't laugh. He wouldn't treat him any differently than if he had full control of his movements. He never did, and Bill knew he never will. That's part of the reason why he loved him so much.

As Bill finally started to distract himself and calm down, the teacher left the room. And the class was noisy again. It wasn't the chatter, that didn't bother him, it was the thumping of feet and fists, the yelling, the students throwing things in every direction.

Bill wanted to make a lot of noise, just to shut up the noise around him. He wanted to yell or kick something, just anything to get it to be quiet for 5 goddamn seconds.

He pounded his fist on his desk loudly. Again and again, faster and faster, until his hand was too sore to continue. "Shit!" he said unwillingly, his head jerking to the side at the same time.

The class was too noisy for anyone to pay attention to him. His noises simply blended in with the rest. So he screamed. He covered his ears and screamed, his feet kicking his desk.

That got the class to shut up for a moment. But only a moment, as in a minute, people were laughing and calling him a range of slurs. They were all words he's been called before, words that never really hurt because he was with Ted, but now he could feel himself beginning to cry. It only made him want to yell more.

He closed his eyes, more tears pouring out, as he slammed his hands against his ears over and over again, as if he did it enough times everything would stop and he'd be fine. His head jerked repeatedly and he said a few words he couldn't really hear over the noise of the class.

His head jerked back and hit his chair. "Ow," he mumbled, before his head went back 2 more times.

"Bill?"

Bill opened his eyes to see Ted, standing right in front of him. He smiled and began thumping his desk excitedly. "Ted! Ted, Ted, Ted, Ted, Ted."

Ted grabbed Bill by the arm and walked him out of the classroom, ignoring what the teacher was saying about skipping class. He brought him to the bathroom, getting in the biggest stall and locking the door behind them. "Bill, are you okay?"

Bill sniffed and shrugged, thumping his palms against his legs. He had begun repeating Ted's name again, his head jerking to the side repeatedly. "Dude, I totally thought you were gonna be gone all day," Bill said after a little while, wiping his face with his sleeve.

Ted frowned. "Don't change the subject, Bill." Bill avoided eye contact with Ted, mostly because he hated eye contact. Ted sighed. "Do you want to leave?"

Bill looked at Ted now. "Like ditch school?"

Ted nodded, and Bill was about to answer when the bathroom door swung open. Someone pounded on their stall door, making Bill cover his ears tightly. Ted held Bill's leg, giving him a reassuring smile. "Go away," he called out to the person behind the door.

"The teacher told me to come and get you guys."

"I don't care. Go away."

The person on the other side muttered something the two couldn't hear and left, slamming the door behind them, which made Bill jump. Bill stayed like that with his hands on his ears for a little while longer, before finally, slowly, setting his arms down at his side. Looking at Ted, he nodded. "Let's go."

Ted grinned. "Great, cus I've got an idea of where to go."

"Okay, dude, open your eyes."

Bill opened his eyes and gasped. "Holy shit, Ted, is this-" He laughed, thumping his hands on his legs excitedly. "Dude, is this our old treehouse?"

Ted smiled. "Yeah! I saw it a couple days ago and, uh- I don't know, I thought we could use it as a hang out spot again for when we aren't playing music or something. It's pretty quiet, I thought you would like it. I cleaned it up a little."

Bill ran over to the old treehouse to get a closer look. A very faint "Preston-Logan" was carved on the tree and he hit his arm happily. "Dude, this is excellent. Is it safe to climb?" Bill asked, turning around to face Ted.

"Yeah, dude. Plus, there's a bunch of snacks and, like, fidgets and stuff I put in there. A radio, too." Ted climbed up the ladder to the top of the treehouse and went inside.

There were tattered curtains on the windows that they had put up when they were kids. They were actually just some old bedsheets they cut up and then used as curtains, though. They had space designs on them. There was a beanbag and some pillows, a pile of books they were way too old to read, a couple of sleeping bags, and a drawer. The drawer had snacks and fidgets in it.

Bill was inside now, too, banging his hands on the ground. His head twitched slightly. "Dude," was all he got out.

Ted giggled. "Oh! And check this out." He scrambled over towards the drawer and pulled out a box, opening it to reveal a pile of pictures. All the pictures were of them, but when they were kids, ranging from when they were 6 to 14 years old.

Ted watched as Bill went through the pictures, laughing about what they looked like as kids.

Ted placed a hand on Bill's cheek. "Bill?"

Bill's arm twitched and he looked up at Ted slowly. "Yes, Ted?"

"You okay?"

Bill smiled lightly. "Yeah, Ted. Thanks."

Neither of them moved. They weren't really sure what to do next. So Bill did the only thing he could think of. He leaned in and kissed Ted.

"As a-" Bill's head twitched. "As a thank you."

Ted blushed. "I- uh- thanks? Or, no- y-you're welcome? Wait-" He smiled. "Th-that was nice."

Bill smiled, too, thumping his hand lightly on his leg again. "Thanks, Ted, seriously. I, uh-" he hit his hand on the treehouse floor, making a loud thump noise. "I love you, dude."

[bibbawrites]

She - Carrie Wilson x Female Reader (SMUT 18+)

Request: girl x girl with Carrie having a bad day cause of Julie and needs to let off the anger with giving the reader an/some orgasm(s)?

Word Count: 1770 words

Summary: after being upstaged by julie at the school spirit rally carrie needs a way to work her anger out, and you are more than happy to be of assistance 

Warnings: sex (obviously), oral sex (female receiving), fingering, use of sex toys, swearing, overstimulation, slight dom

A/N: i finally got the motivation to write this and i dont completely hate it which is good haha sorry for any mistakes in editing, i got a bit lazy and just skim read it while cuddling a kitten lol so if theres any mistakes thats why  also no hate to julie or flynn but obviously carrie’s girlfriend wouldn’t like them and neither does carrie so yeah thats why they get shit on   anyways, hope you enjoy!!!

Tag List: @happinessinthedarkesttimes​​​ @littlemissaddict​​​ @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic​​​ @headheartbellarke​​​ @lovesanimals​​​ @bartok-the-magnificent​​​ @juliefromaustralia @multi-universe21 @rangerelik @kaitieskidmore1 @katrina765​​​ @fandomxreaders​​​​ @ifilwtmfc

“I swear Molina does this shit on purpose, just to piss me off.” Carrie ranted as the two of you walked down the hallway after the spirit rally.

“Do you know how hard I worked on that routine? And she just has to go and upstage me with some stupid fucking hologram act? Which came out of nowhere, might I add.” She continued, and you nodded, not wanting to sat the wrong thing and make it worse. 

You stood back and watched as your girlfriend confronted Julie, rolling your eyes at Nick who decided to step in. He never truly knew how to deal with Carrie. He followed as Carrie walked away and you hurried to catch up, grabbing onto your girfriend’s hand as she repeated her rant from earlier. 

The bell rang as Carrie turned to walk away, pulling you along with her. 

“Where are we going? Science is the other way.” You questioned. Carrie shook her head. 

“We’re not going to science.” She replied, pulling you into a janitors closet and shutting the door behind you. 

“Oh.” You said, understanding the situation. 

Carrie pulled you towards her, your lips crashing against hers. She tasted like she always did, like her favourite peach lipgloss and mint. Kissing Carrie was like the perfect duet, her lips were made to intertwine with yours. 

You were snapped out of your thoughts by Carrie shoving you against the wall, her lips moving from yours to trail down your neck, sucking marks into your skin as she went. 

“Carrie.” You mumbled. “Are we really gonna do this here?” 

She took a step back, eyeing you carefully, before pulling out her phone and pressing it to her ear. 

“Dad? I need you to call the school and excuse me and Y/N for the rest of the day.” She spoke and your eyes widened. You could hear the muffled sound of Carrie’s dad talking on the other end. She bit her lip. 

“It’s a girl problem.” She said after a moment. Her dad replied and a smile appeared on your girlfriend’s face. 

“Yes that kind of girl problem. Poor Y/N is feeling horrible, the cramps are just so bad on the first day of her cycle.” Carrie put on a sympathetic voice and after a moment she gave you a thumbs up and said goodbye to her father before hanging up. 

“How good are you at acting?” She questioned. You shrugged. 

“Decent enough, why?” You replied.

“My dad is coming to pick us up and drop us home at my house. You’re having a really bad period and you need to get some rest.” 

You nodded in understanding, and together you made your way outside, waiting for Trevor to arrive, and once he did you made sure to clutch at your stomach and lean on your girlfriend as she helped you into the car. 

“Do you need anything Y/N?” Trevor asked, as he drove the two of you home. “I can get whatever pads or tampons you need, and I can heat up a heat pack or get medication for your cramps.” 

Your heart swelled at the caring gesture. 

“I should be okay with just a lie down.” You replied. “But I’ll let you know if I need anything. Thank you.” 

“Of course. Anything to make you more comfortable.” Trevor responded as he pulled the car into the driveway. 

“I’ll go get you girls some pizza. I know Carrie loves comfort foods on her period.” He offered. You and Carrie exchanged a look, but agreed, and before you knew it you were flopping down onto your girlfriend’s king sized bed. 

“I feel kinda guilty.” You admitted. Carrie sighed. 

“Me too. Why does he have to be such a good dad?” She groaned. 

“Too late now to backtrack.” You said. Carrie nodded, rolling closer to you and pulling you into her arms. 

“Guess we should just make the most of our time together then.”

- 

An hour and several slices of pizza later and Carrie and you had her whole house to yourselves, with her dad leaving for some meeting that would take several hours. 

Carrie had been staring at the wall for the past 15 minutes and you were starting to get worried about your girlfriend. You moved slightly, placing a hand on her shoulder, and she turned to look at you. 

“Are you okay?” You questioned. 

“Just thinking about Julie again.” She explained, an annoyed look appearing on her face. 

“You need to forget about her babe. She’s not worth your time.” You stated, but Carrie ignored you, staring back at the wall again. 

“I just can’t believe she upstaged me after all the hard work we put into our performance.” She ranted. You took her hand. 

“If it makes you feel better, I thought that Dirty Candy was better by far.” You said, squeezing her hand. 

“You have to say that, you’re my girlfriend.” She rolled her eyes, but the light blush on her cheeks told you that she appreciated the compliment. You fell into silence for a moment, before an idea popped into your head. 

“Carrie.” You said. 

“What?” She replied, without even looking at you. 

“Remember that time that Flynn called me your bitch and I got so pissed off at her and you worked my anger out with some of the hottest sex we’ve ever had?” You asked. That got her attention, and she turned to look at you. 

“Yeah?” Her eyes lingered on your lips for a few seconds. 

“Use me.” You stated. She bit her lip. 

“You sure?” She checked. You nodded. 

“Positive. I’m all yours to do whatever you want to me.” You assured her. 

“In that case...” Carrie sat up, her look suddenly very serious. “Take off your clothes. Now.” 

You obeyed, pulling your Dirty Candy t-shirt and your denim shorts quickly, and after a quick glance at Carrie, stripped your underwear and bra off too. 

“Lie down.” Carrie instructed, and you did as she said. You watched as she moved down her bed and spread your legs, her eyes never once leaving yours. 

She lent down and licked a strip up your pussy and you moaned loudly, not holding back since you knew that Trevor was gone. 

Carrie smirked, before moving to eat you out, her tongue swirling against your clit as she inserted a finger into you. 

“Carrie.” You moaned out, and she grazed her teeth along your clit as a response. 

“Holy shit.” You muttered, tangling your fingers through her hair. 

She added a second finger and your head fell back in pleasure. She really wasn’t holding back. You could feel the familiar feeling of your orgasm pooling in your stomach. 

“I’m not going to last if you keep doing that.” You breathed out, and she ignored you, curling her fingers inside you to hit your g-spot. You gasped loudly. 

“Carrie, please.” You moaned. 

“Cum for me baby.” She said, her mouth never leaving your clit, and the vibrations sent you tumbling over the edge, cumming with a loud moan of her name. 

She worked you through your orgasm before moving away, and you shut your eyes to take a moment. The bed dipped as Carrie climbed back onto it, and before you could react she was pressing a vibrator to your already sensitive clit. 

“Carrie, what?” You asked, eyes opening quickly. 

“You didn’t think I’d stop at one, did you?” She teased, pressing the vibrator against you again, causing your already sensitive body to twitch. You bit your lip, unable to respond. She grinned at you. 

“How many orgasms have you had in one go before?” She questioned. 

“Three.” You answered. She paused, thinking. 

“You can do more than that.” She decided, and your eyes widened. You opened your mouth to reply but she pressed the vibrator to your clit again, this time turning the level on the vibrator up. You squirmed, not even having time to warn her before your second orgasm hit. 

Smirking, Carrie left the vibrator on your clit, holding your hips down with her spare hand to stop you from trying to move away. The intense vibration so soon after your second orgasm had you cumming again in what felt like no time. 

“Please no more. I can’t take it.” You begged. Carrie shook her head. 

“Yes you can baby, I know you can.” She assured you. 

“I can’t Carrie, please.” You whined. She paused. 

“One more.” She decided. You whimpered as her fingers entered you once again, stretching you slightly, before she slid them out and slid the vibrator into you. 

You cried out, hot tears spilling down your cheeks as Carrie put her mouth back onto your clit, every little movement sending shudders through your overly sensitive body. 

“Come on baby, one more, you can do it.” Carrie coaxed, her tongue swirling against your clit. She angled the vibrator to hit your g-spot and that was enough to bring you to your fourth orgasm. 

“Good girl.” Carrie praised, removing the vibrator from you. Your body was shaking and your face was wet with tears. You knew you looked like a wreck. 

“I think we should have a bath.” Carrie decided, helping you into the bathroom. 

She helped you to sit on the closed toilet, before starting the bath, adding in your favourite Lush bubble bar that she always kept for when you were over, and some soothing bath soak. Once she was done she turned back to you. 

“I’ll be right back, okay?” She whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You just nodded, too exhausted to speak. 

Carrie was back in no time, carrying two pairs of soft pyjamas, and some apple juice with ice. She placed them down on the cabinet before turning the water off on the bath and adding in a bath bomb. She lit the candles surrounding the bath before turning her attention to you. 

“Ready to get in?” She questioned. 

“Yeah, I might need some help though.” You replied, your voice shaky. Carrie grinned, walking over to you and wrapping her arm around your waist to help you over to the bath. She helped you climb in before stripping off her clothes and climbing in with you, sitting herself behind you so that you could lean back against her. 

“Feel better now?” You asked in a soft voice. Carrie pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder. 

“I do. Thank you, I love you.” She murmured. 

“I love you too. And anytime, I’ll always be here.” You responded, shutting your eyes as you snuggled against your girlfriend. 

And you meant it. 

[johnsamericano]

could you do hard dom yangyang where you've been flirting with a member and he gets jealous

The beggining was so random plz forgive me 👁💧👄💧👁

“I like your eyebrows, Xiaojun.” You said, wiggling your own. “They’re sexy.”

“Oh my god, shut up.” He couldn’t help but smile, playfully hitting your arm.

YangYang watched everything from afar with jealous eyes. He perfectly knew you’d been friends with Dejun since you were kids, but that didn’t made less annoying the fact that every time he invited you to the dorms, you’d flirt with him.

“Sexy eyebrows.” You kept teasing, your small giggles filling the living room.

“Oh hey, y/n. Didn’t know you were here.” Ten came out of his room, Leon cuddled between his arms.

“Hey, Ten.” You got up and walked toward him, petting the cat’s head affectionately. “Hey pretty boy.”

“Thanks babe.” He grinned.

“No problem, babe.” You teased back, earning a harsh look from YangYang.

“Y/n, have you seen my charger?” He asked, trying to hide his anger as well as he could.

“It should be on your bed.” You shrugged, still not aware of the change in the atmosphere.

“Can you come help me?” You whined, not wanting to get away from the animal.

“Fine.”

As soon as the bedroom door was closed, you were slammed against it, YangYang’s knee between your legs.

“The fuck?”

“Watch your mouth or I’ll make sure you can’t even sit right after we’re done.”

“What did I even do now?” He pressed his knee up, moving it back and forth against your clothed core. “Shit.” You bit your hand in an attempt to muffle the sounds coming out of your mouth.

“Don’t play dumb with me, slut.” You shook your head. “Maybe a few spanks will make you remember.” He swung you over his shoulder only to thrown you onto the bed the next second. “Pants off.”

With trembling hands, you pulled them down, your strawberry panties on full display for him.

“Those too.” You obliged, already feeling little under his eyes.

He sat on the bed, pulling your body with ease so you were laying on his lap. The first slap was delivered with no previous warning, the stinging pain sending waves of arousal to your heat.

“You like it when I treat you like this, don’t you? You’re just a little bitch in heat. MY bitch in heat, you got that?” That’s when your brain connected all the puzzle pieces. He was jealous.

“I’m yours, YangYang.” He slapped you once again, this time cooing at your small whines.

“All that sweet talk is not gonna save you from getting punished.”

He gave a few more slaps, every spank stronger than the last one, leaving your ass sore after he finally finished.

He got up, leaving your numb body spread horizontally on the bed. You heard the sound of the fabric of his sweats sliding down his legs, followed by his underwear. He came closer to you again, using his hand to lift your ass.

“You can’t come until I give you permission.” He slammed his hips against yours, the stretch causing you to mewl. “Should I call Dejun and Ten in? I bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” He kept thrusting at a steady pace, one of his hands on your hips while the other one held your face down against the mattress.

Your walls clenched around his length, announcing your imminent climax. YangYang decided it was a great opportunity to tease you. He removed his hand from the back of your head, placing two of his finger pads over your sensitive nub.

“Please, please.” You pleaded, trying to hold it back with all your might. “I’ll be good.”

“I want you to tell me the reason why I punished you today.” The hand that was previously gripping your hips, wrapped around your throat, forcing your torso up so your back was against his chest.

“I-I flirted with your friends.” You shut your eyes tightly.

“And what does one say when they’ve made a mistake?”

“I’m sorry, YangYang. I promise I’ll never do it again, just, please let me come.” Tears started forming at the corners of your eyes.

“Alright.” You stopped holding back, your high making your legs tremble and your breathing erratic. “Such a nice fuck doll.”

He overstimulated you until his seed was filling you up, the feeling causing another wave of pleasure to crash against your body.

“Stay here, I’ll go get a towel.” He pressed a kiss against your back after laying you down again, his cum sliding down your thighs.

“As if I could walk.”

There was a sticky note outside his door.

‘We heard you doing nasty stuff so we left. You better treat us dinner if you don’t want Kun to know ;)’

[imissjoongsmullet]

SOMETHING BETTER (2/2)

Pairing: Bang Chan x reader

Genre: angst/smut/fluff

Summary: You and Chan have been best friends since before you can remember but now that you’re in college, things start to feel strange, especially with the way he acts when it comes to your boyfriend.

Read part 1

Warnings: part 2 of 2, angst, fighting, cheating, heartbreak, explicit sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex (oops I keep doing this, be safe folks), oral sex, blowjob, dick-choking (literally don’t know what else to call that haha), overstimulation, soft dom Chan, verrrrry slight sado/maso moments and a lot of cute stuff

Word Count: 5.5k yeah this part got long oops

Author’s Note: If you haven’t read part 1 I highly recommend you do. I’ve really enjoyed playing out this little fantasy. Thanks again to the lovely anon who requested ♥  also please let me know what you thought! Feedback (good or bad) is so important to me ♥

►

The uncomfortable feeling in the pit of your stomach sat, unbudging as you walked the now bustling streets towards Changbin’s apartment. The sun was out and so were the people. It was mostly chattering groups of students on afternoon shopping sprees but you didn’t share any of their excitement. Chan had had no right overreacting like he had just then. He had no idea of the trouble you and your boyfriend had been having and he hadn’t even given you the chance to explain. You hated how short-fused he could be sometimes and for a second you almost kicked a light pole imagining it was him. But then you remembered the hurt look in his eyes and got chills. You’d broken your promise to him. Perhaps he hadn’t been entirely in the wrong. After all, it hadn’t been the first time you’d blown him off to go do something with Changbin.

You kept jumping from one thought to the other: anger — guilt — no definitely anger — perhaps a bit of guilt though — it was driving you insane so much so that you felt entirely relieved when you finally arrived at your boyfriend’s place, ready to talk things through.

You rang the doorbell and first heard absolutely nothing. Then, there was a bunch of thumping noises and — was that another person? You suddenly felt a bit bad, thinking you’d interrupted time with his friends or something. It took a full two minutes for the door to finally open. By that time you were ready to apologize for showing up unannounced but when you took a quick glance at the apartment, there seemed to be no one else there.

“What are you doing here?” Changbin said, sounding a bit out of breath.

“I’m sorry,” you replied, “I should have called. I just thought maybe we could talk about last night?” You stepped into the living room, frowning. “Wasn’t there someone else in here?”

Changbin’s eyes went wide. “No, it’s just me,” he said following close behind you, hand at your waist, “but listen, can we do this another time? I really have a lot of work to catch up on.”

“I guess so,” you started saying, until you noticed a couple of things. “Babe?” you asked quietly.

“What’s up?” Changbin replied fast, turning you towards him.

“You smell like coconut,” you said, unable to look him in the eyes.

“It’s just a shower gel, don’t you like it?”

“—and there’s someone else’s jacket on the chair over there.”

“Babe,” Changbin chuckled weakly, squeezing his fingers into your hips while his free hand turned your chin to look him in the eyes, “that’s nothing, my friend just left that here a few days ago.”

Tears were starting to burn behind your eyes so you forced yourself away from him.

“I was here last night,” you whispered at the floor, “it wasn’t there then.” You strode over to his bedroom, throwing open the door to find a girl you’d seen on campus before sitting on his bed in her underwear, looking at her phone. She jumped a little in surprise but then looked rather annoyed at being intruded upon. Meanwhile, you were having trouble breathing.

“Babe,” you heard Changbin say behind you, grabbing your shoulder, “I can explain.”

“No,” you said, turning around to him, “don’t waste your breath.” You pushed past him as the first tears started to roll down your cheeks, exiting the building with a stinging feeling in your chest.

You strode down the streets, completely unaware of where you were going. Your head was fogged up with feelings you didn’t want to be dealing with but there was no getting away from them. How long had he been cheating on you for? You didn’t want to believe it but you had the feeling this hadn’t been the first time. The curtain now lifted, you felt foolish for not noticing anything earlier. Your heart felt flayed open, emptying out onto the pavement as you went without thinking.

You knocked on the door, only realizing where your emotions had taken you when he opened it.

Chan looked groggy, as if he'd just woken up from an afternoon nap, wearing grey sweat pants and a sleeveless shirt. When he saw the wetness on your cheeks, however, his eyes went wide with concern.

"What's wrong," he asked, immediately opening up his arms for you, letting you bury yourself into him.

"I'm sorry," you sobbed into his chest, the words tumbling from your lips out of their own accord, "you were right about him."

Chan put a hand on top of your head, keeping you close, letting you unleash onto him.

"I found him with another girl, Chan," you said, raising your head to look him in the eyes. At once, everything in him went soft. He took your hands in his, rubbing the backs of yours with his thumbs gently. There was a flash of anger in him as he raised his eyes to the ceiling and you felt him squeeze your palms tight for a second but then he looked down at you again, like the world was falling apart.

He led you to his couch, where he wrapped his arms around you once more.

"I'm so sorry," he said at last, pulling you close, rubbing your side.

You couldn't believe your ears. "You're not mad at me?"

"Mad at you?" he replied incredulously, turning to look at you. His thumb came to wipe the tears from under your eyes. "You must be joking."

"I've been an asshole to you lately," you said, "all for that dumb guy."

That made him chuckle a bit. "Maybe a little, yeah," he said, "but you didn't deserve this." His hand came to cup your cheek; something he'd never done before. "You're my best friend. You deserve someone who treats you like you're the only person that matters."

Ripples of something you couldn't quite place but decided to define as nerves went through you. He was so sweet and so close and in the silence that lingered between you, you nearly forgot what you were doing. You just let yourself sink into your friend, let him take care of you as only he could.

"Thank you," you murmered, squeezing your fingers into his shirt a little.

"Any time," replied Chan before pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head. He swiftly put on a feel good movie before pulling you on him again and continuing his comforting.

You stayed like that for quite a while, huddled together on the couch, his hand moving lovingly over you like a warm breeze, slowly but surely stilling your racing heart and mind. The further the both of you dozed off, the more initmate the embrace seemed to become, legs touching, arms intertwining,..  but neither of you was aware if this, as everything just felt safe and good, just like that.

When you awoke the next morning, the first thing you felt was the tickle of his hair as it dangled slightly against your forehead, then the warmth of his chest enveloping you where you lay. Finally, opening your eyes, you found him fast asleep under you. He was so perfect, skin like silk but arms strong enough to lift you to the sky and lips full and sweet-looking. You watched him slowly open his eyes and you smiled, finding him even more beautiful in that moment. Then you realized he was staring at you and reality struck you like lightning.

With the tiniest gasp you raised yourself off of him, feeling a heat run rapidly through your whole body.

He looked at you dazedly, lips parted and for a moment you didn't know what to do. You were still virtually in his lap, holding you breath for him to say something. The frustrating thing was, it seemed he was doing the same.

Like a blessing from the heavens themselves, your phone started to buzz.

"Shit," you whispered, running over to your discarded bag on the floor, only to miss the call.

“Was it him?” says Chan, the annoyance in his tone crystal clear.

You nodded, staring down at your phone screen.

“Don’t call back,” he went on, getting up from the couch, stretching lazily, before walking into the kitchen, “you don’t have to go anywhere. We can just stay in and watch movies or something.”

You considered it, shooting your friend a glance as he started digging through his fridge and feeling oddly light-headed.

“Maybe next time,” you said, shaking away whatever was taking over you this morning, “I’ve got some stuff to do at home.”

He twisted around, glass or orange juice in hand, eyes drooping for the fraction of a second before going kind.

“Alright,” he said, setting down the glass and walking over to you. He squeezed your upper arm softly, keeping his distance. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” you replied, forcing a smile.

There seemed to be something lingering behind his own lips but when he spoke up next it was a simple “I’ll see you in class on Monday,” and you couldn’t help but feel just the tiniest bit disappointed when you parted.

Everything seemed perfectly normal on campus at first. Most classes were dull as usual, people were loud as usual,… but walking next to your friend somehow didn’t feel the way it felt before. You kept thinking of the way he’d held you as you cried, the way he’d wiped your tears and talked you through your heartache. He’d made you feel more loved than Changbin ever had. There was no way you could look at Chan as you always had, though you tried your best to repress these new and strange feelings.

“We need to go over our presentation tonight,” you said, walking out the packed building and into the wide, sunlit quadrangle outside it.

“Mmm,” muttered Chan, more interested in the hot dog he was devouring than the thought of school work.

“Hey,” you chuckled, “this grade is important to me, show a little enthusiasm.”

Chan made a face at you, cheeks round with food, smirking, eyes rolling into the back of his head. “Here have some,” he said, putting the rest of his lunch past your lips before you could even reply, “the presentation will be fine. Promise.” He patted the top of your head at you as you took a bite. 

“Fine, no more school talk for now,” you said, lips curling up as well, “but you better be focused tonight or else—”

Chan’s hand was on your wrist in a flash, squeezing. You looked up at him bewildered until you followed his less-than-amicable gaze and understood what was going on.

“Chan, don’t,” you started just as he tore away from you.

Changbin was sitting with some of his friends on a long stretch of grass and Chan was charging right at them.

“You!” he shouted across the quad, making the hairs at the back of your neck stand up.

Changbin’s face went from shock to confusion to annoyance as Chan approached. Finally, he shot up from the ground to face the other head to head.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Chan yelled, immediately shoving Changbin backwards.

Once again, Chan’s temper was getting the better of him. You watched in fear as Changbin stumbled but managed to stay on his feet.

“Hey, what is wrong with you?” he called back, squaring up his broad shoulders and getting right back into Chan’s face.

“You think you can treat my friend like trash and get away with it?” Chan spat, eyes on fire, finger digging into Changbin’s chest.

The shorter guy rolled his eyes, a lazy smirk creeping onto his face. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about—”

“Fucking around like a dirty dog,” Chan added, shoving Changbin once more.

By now, a small crowd of students had congregated around the scene and you were growing hotter in the face with each passing second.

“Chan,” you hissed from behind him, “it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not!” he snapped back.

Meanwhile Changbin had started laughing. “Listen to the whore, man,” he said, nodding at you, “let it go—”

The next moment, Changbin went crashing down onto the grass, crying out in pain.

“What the fuck?!” he exclaimed holding his hands over a bloody nose.”

“Chan!” you let out, your voice coming out high pitched and panicked.

But your best friend didn’t hear. He stood over your ex-boyfriend, fists still clenched tight. “You don’t talk about her like that,” he said, chest heaving, “stay the fuck away from her.”

He turned around at last, ignoring all innocent bystanders and came straight to you.

“Come,” he said, grabbing your hand in his, “let’s get out of here.”

“Chan you really shouldn’t have done that,” you said, stumbling after him as he dragged you down street after street but you got no reply. Chan seemed to have entered a whole hotheaded world of his own. His features were stern, so unlike you knew them. He was all tenseness, so much so, you couldn’t get out of the tight grip he still held on your hand. You called his name again and again, hoping he’d come to his senses. You knew where he was taking the both of you; his place was only a few blocks away but you had no idea why. He couldn’t just pick a fight with your ex-boyfriend and then run away like this. Not to mention you both had classes in the afternoon you really shouldn’t be missing out on. Your heart was pounding painfully in your chest and your head spun, unable to wrap around everything that had just happened.

By the time you arrived at his building you’d run completely out of both breath and patience. “Chan, please,” you panted, following as he pulled you up the stairs to his room.

Still no answer.

Finally arriving at his floor you yanked back your hand, forcing him to turn around to you.

“Chan just stop!” you let out, noticing he was just as out of breath as you were, “what the hell even was that? You can’t just—”

You gasped as Chan took both your arms and brought your face close.

“We’re not doing this here,” he said, dead-serious before reclaiming your hand and pulling you to his room.

“Chan—” you started as he closed the door behind him, “you can’t just go around hitting people!” 

“Well what am I supposed to do then, huh?” he retorted, walking up to you, “this guy treated you like shit! He cheated on you and doesn’t even give a fuck!”

“Hey—” you started but his hand shot out to grab your forearm.

“Don’t try to tell me it’s not true,” he said, aggravation starting to fill out his voice, “you always do this. I don’t get you!” he shook your shoulder, making you shy away from him. He was so erratic and confusing and you were simultaneously scared and angry.

“Chan, what are you even talking about?” you snapped back, moving away from him only to have him follow suit.

He threw his head back in exasperation, muttering your name under his breath before trapping you against a wall. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know what you do,” he spoke down to you, his index finger jabbing just under your collarbone, “you always go for the guys that’ll treat you like crap!” he said, louder now, emotion trickling into the words more and more, “it’s always the same! You’re so fucking naive! You never listen to my warnings and then when you get hurt you come crying to me!”

“Chan,” you said, unable to look at him. 

“Why do you continue to fuck around with these assholes, huh?” he went on relentlessly, “why do you let them hurt you time and time again instead of getting a guy that treats you right?”

Your head finally shot up to meet his, “well, where am I supposed to find a guy like that?” you said, your eyes starting to water, “you think I haven’t tried to do just that?”

“Oh god,” Chan sighed out, coming to rest his forehead against yours. He cupped your face in one hand,gently making your eyes meet his. He looked so pained, brows furrowed, eyes like an abandoned puppy. Meanwhile your cheek burned hot under his hand as your head went blank.

“Fuck,” he said at last, his breath hot against your lips, “you don’t even know how well I’d treat you if you let me.”

There was one more moment, brief and terrifying, in which he just looked at you; looked at you like his insides were tearing him apart; before he finally brought his lips to yours with a passion as if it was the only thing he’d ever wanted to do in his life.

The vast blank that had taken over your head now exploded like fireworks, sending electricity all down your body. Chan was kissing you; properly kissing you too. The hand that cupped your face kept your lips locked as his second hand now wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. The motion elicited a weak sigh, only muffled by his perfect lips. When you thought he was done he went in once more, a bit softer this time, letting it linger between you, lip to lip.

“I’ve wanted you for the longest time,” he whispered against you and your knees went weak.

“Chan.” You only knew to say his name, seemingly having forgotten all other forms of communication.

He kissed you again, chastely, second-guessing himself. “I’m sorry,” he said, pulling away just a little, “I know we’ve been friends since forever and this is just weird, I—”

“No,” you interrupted, surprised by your own daring.

“No?” he copied.

Trying to still your out of control heart, you forced yourself to look into your best friend’s eyes.

“No, I mean,” you said, taking a breath, “it’s not weird, it’s…”

“Good?” asked Chan, more nervous than you’d ever seen him.

A tiny smile tumbled onto your lips and you nodded.

It took a few seconds for the meaning behind the action to sink in, in which Chan stared at you, jaw dropped. Then, recognition trickled into his eyes and they moved over your lips, down your body and back up again.

“Fuck,” he sighed out as his eyes arrived back to meet yours and, before you could do anything about it, he crashed his lips back into you.

This time both his hands traveled over your body, exploring places they previously hadn’t been able to. You were now pressed up against the wall tight though there was no place you’d rather be. The way his lips dove at yours over and over drove you wild. Each time they came back for more you knew it would never be enough for him. Eventually he deepened the kiss, letting his tongue caress you as well. You couldn’t help but let out little gasps whenever his hands squeezed extra tight, or his tongue brushed over the roof of your mouth, causing him to smile into you.

“You’re not a quiet one, are you?” he chuckled against your lips.

You just laughed with him as his hands came down to squeeze your ass before lifting you. You wrapped your legs around his waist and let him press you harder into the wall. His head buried into your neck and you let out a moan when you felt teeth scraping the delicate skin. That only excited him, so he went in again, this time biting down until more of your little noises filled the quiet room.

“Chan,” you breathed, feeling him grow hard against you. You buried your face into the crook of his neck.

“You getting shy, baby?” he said in a low voice, which only made you wrap around him tighter. You’d never imagined anything like this with him, hadn’t even dared think of it. But now that it was all so real and tangible, you felt more flustered than ever, especially considering ho much you were enjoying every second of it. You were so unused to this tension between the two of you and it made you bashful. But at the same time you were realizing how badly you’d wanted him all these years. His strong arms keeping you in place, his hot breath on you and the way his very clear erection rubbed against you were quickly driving you mad with lust.

“We can stop if you like,” he went on, a large hand going up and down your back soothingly, “we can take it slow.”

You pulled back and faced him, shaking your head, trying not to lose yourself over the tiny bit of friction the move created.

“No?” he questioned, brushing some hair from your face.

“I want you so much,” you confessed finally, “I need you so bad, Chan, please.”

Those last few words drove him over the edge. His fingers dug into your skin hard for a second before letting go, letting you drop to your feet again.

“Come,” he ordered, grabbing you by the wrist and taking you to his room. Once in, he looked you up and down swiftly before taking the fabric of your shirt and pulling it over your head. He smirked at the sight of you and pulled you in for another kiss while his hands felt your bare skin. You fingers found their way to the the hem of his shirt too and tugged until he got the memo and removed it as well.

“Like what you see, baby?” he grinned as he stood before you looking like a fucking underwear model.

You wanted to roll your eyes at him like you usually would but found yourself unable to. You just wanted to touch. Reaching out and wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, you melted into him. He kissed you deeply, groaning into you and pulling you as close as he could.

Growing all the more desperate, you dropped an arm from around his neck to roam his toned back, moving down to his hips where you were met with the hem of his jeans. You hesitated for a moment until one of Chan’s hands began massaging your ass and you forgot all decency.

You brought your hand around to his front, where your palm could come to rest against his hardness.

You heard him mutter a muffled curse into your mouth as you pressed down slightly. He pulled back from you, eyes glazed over.

“You’re a dirty little girl, aren’t you?” he said, lifting your chin to him.

You just pressed down again in reply, causing him to hum deeply against your lips.

“Very well,” he said, “have it your way,” and he walked the two of you to the bed, getting in and pulling you on top of him. He lay before you now, looking up at you expectantly while you sat in his lap.

“Come on then, baby,” he said, raising an eyebrow, “get to it. Take them off.”

You swallowed, looking down at the tent in his pants, feeling overwhelmed. He gasped lightly when you popped the button and stared intensely as the zipper went down.

Seeing the clear outline of his hard cock through his underwear was enough to make you clench your thighs together. Not wasting any time, you pulled all the fabric down and licked your lips.

“Fuck,” you heard him moan as you let some of your saliva spill onto his tip, dripping down the  pulsing length. Your hand wrapped around, steadily coating the entire shaft as Chan’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment. His hand reached out to you, fingers tangling in your hair weakly as he breathed out, “I need your lips on me baby.”

Gladly, you moved down, kissing his wet tip before moving down over his length. His hand caressed the back of your head as you went, up and down, hollowing out your cheeks for him. You tried to take him in as deep as you could, only getting around halfway. Chan whined things you barely understood at you, the sound of his voice only spurring you on to go faster.

You moaned out around him when Chan’s fingers suddenly tightened in your hair, the next moment forcing you down hard, his dick sliding far down your throat. You sputtered in pain and shock as he groaned in pleasure, keeping you down for a good few seconds before releasing you.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he said in a strained voice, wiping your drool-stained chin with his thumb as you gasped for air, “I just can’t control—”

“It’s okay,” you cut in and, riled up with adrenaline, you crawled on top of him and kissed him hard. You wanted him so bad; all of him, “just fuck me.”

He kissed back with new fervor, your devotion to him turning him on even more. Hands were everywhere they could reach and touch and grab and squeeze. His eventually landed at your hips, so they could roll your hips against his hard on.

You kept whining into his lips, desperate for more of his touch.

Chan seemed to agree because he flipped the two of you around and immediately got to work on getting you as naked as he was.

“That’s better,” he said, staring down at you like he was high off his ass and you were some delicious, otherworldly hallucination.

You gasped when you felt his finger enter you without warning.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groaned against your lips, “fuck, baby.”

You didn’t have the energy to answer him because he immediately added a second finger, while his thumb grazed your clit. You clasped a hand over your mouth to keep from crying out.

“No, let me hear you,” he said, kissing your cheek until you removed your hand so he could claim your lips again. His fingers worked a steady rhythm, opening you up for him. You kisses grew sloppier as your moans grew more erratic. His lips then moved down towards your neck, nipping at your quickly-bruising skin. “You ready for me, baby?” he asked eventually.

“Fuck,” you let out in between gasps and moans, “Chan, yes, please.”

He grinned down at how needy he’d made you with pride in his eyes.

“Chan!” you whined louder this time, your hand darting between the two of you to palm his now dripping cock, causing him to shudder above you.

“Hey!” he said, yanking your hand away and pinning you down by the wrists, “I’m in charge here.” Something had darkened in his eyes that both terrified and excited you.

Keeping you locked tightly by the wrists, he positioned himself and pushed in.

You arched up at the mixture of pain and pleasure it dowsed you in. Chan was way bigger than his fingers had been. But he was far too gone to notice. His face was all fucked out as he pressed himself in deeper and deeper, slowly until your slickness finally gave in and he plunged all the way in, drawing a high-pitched cry from you.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” Chan groaned, kissing you and at once starting to move.

It was all too much. You felt him stretch you as he went and you could only thrash under him, crying out helplessly.

“You okay baby?”

The words caught you off guard and when you opened you eyes to look at him you noticed there were tears in them. You raised your head just enough to kiss him. He reciprocated with a content groan, his hands finally releasing your wrists and coming to hold your face as he continued to thrust harder.

“More,” you begged under him, “Chan, more.”

By now, most of the pain was gone and your pleasure was only heightening.

Chan kissed you again, sloppy and wet, his tongue lapping at your lips like they were ice cream before sitting up a bit straighter and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder.

You hadn’t thought it possible but he was hitting you even deeper than before. You bounced against him wildly, not caring what neighbors might hear your out-of-control moaning. He shook you over and over finding that spot you needed his touch the most. He smirked down at you, knowing exactly what he was doing to you. He spread you legs wider with one hand while the other came down to rub your clit.

“Chan, please,” you begged, “I can’t— I won’t last— I—”

“Good,” he replied in between pants, “cum for me,” and he sped up his hips.

All you could do was clasp your hands over your face as you cried out his name repeatedly. The high was so overwhelming you shuddered with it. And Chan wasn’t letting up; the pounding of his hard dick and the pressure of his thumb at your clit danced with you through the entire thing, making sure you got ridden out properly.

“Chan,” you whined out when the ecstasy of your orgasm had faded and was replaced with a heightened sensitivity, “too much!”

“Hold on, baby girl,” he panted in your ear as he continued fucking into you hard and fast, “I’m almost there.” He hugged you close, the sounds escaping both your lips creating chaotic harmonies as your worlds shook together.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, “baby, fuck!”

His thrusts became erratic and his breath hitched before you felt him fill you up. He curled around you, his groaning directly in your ear as he rocked into you, slowly coming to a halt.

He didn’t move for a few minutes. You lay, chests heaving against one another, sweating on each other. Eventually his head turned to face you and you saw your best friend, Chan, smiling down at you, not unlike how he always had.

“I can’t believe it took us this long to do this,” he said, grinning.

You pushed him off and rolled on your side towards him, getting shy again all of a sudden. You started to pull the unused blanket over yourself but Chan tore it away from you.

“No more need for this now,” he said, running his fingers up and down your arm lightly, “I wanna be looking at this all the time now.”

“Stop,” you said, hiding your face.

You felt Chan’s strong arms wrap around you, cuddling you close. “Nope, sorry,” he said, “you’re totally stuck with me now.”

You groaned into his chest, though it was apparent to the both of you that there was nothing to complain about. You’d finally found each other to be what you’d been meant to be and there was nothing greater than that.

Yup, everything was just perfect.

Well, there were maybe two things:

There was of course the matter of Changbin.

You were a little worried about facing him at first but it seemed the boy had learned his lesson not to mess with Bang Chan and the people he cared about.

Lastly, there was your presentation that was due the following day. Being the horny, lovestruck idiots you were, the two of you completely forgot about it and had to improvise a half-prepared project but for the first time in your life, you weren’t all that upset about the prospect of a bad grade.