#i want to call him a mutt.
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mostlyghostlyy · 5 months ago
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I can't stop thinking about Dale Kobble desperately dry humping my leg while I stare down at him with a repulsed sneer on my face.
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b1mbodoll · 5 months ago
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um. can i say somethinf
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allright · 1 year ago
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tanaka is so fine i wanna attach a plunger to his head so i have something to pull when im hitting it from the back
this caught me so off guard but yeah <3 i get it <3
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dootznbootz · 1 year ago
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"You're like my grandma's dog, Priscilla. Very sweet and tiny and will come up to you with her tail wagging, but almost constantly trembling with the biggest, saddest eyes." -My friend, talking about me. :')
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simonbrain · 3 months ago
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john making simon watch you get the pounding of your life because the two of you got into a nasty little argument, resulting in simon taking his anger out on johnny's ass.
he didn't even stop when you walked into your shared bedroom to see johnny getting his back blown out by your man. he only ordered you to sit and watch as johnny's moans and whines and the sounds of skin slapping filled the room, cum and drool staining your sheets.
simon had the audacity to groan when he saw the tears welling up in your eyes, bottom lip quivering. he always did get off on making you cry.
now he sits with a hard, leaking cock, hands restrained behind the back of the chair as he's forced to watch you get fucked by his captain. despite the way he snarls and grits his teeth, he still twitches and drools in his pants when your cunt gushes around john's cock for the nth time, the desperation to join becoming unbearable. it doesn't help that you're making the prettiest noises, writhing as john folds you into full nelson, your body on full display. simon's seething, so pissed off because he can't touch himself, and he can't even lap at your sloppy pussy or suck on your pretty clit.
"dirty mutts like you get nothin'," john barks when simon pathetically demands to be allowed to touch you, his hips effortlessly working to bring you over the edge again. "you'll never fuckin' learn if i don't teach you how to play nice with your toys; what kind of captain would i be, eh?"
you're babbling incoherent nonsense, not a thought in your head as john's gravelly voice coos sweet things into your ear, calling you his perfect girl while he kisses away your tears. you feel like you're floating right up into the ether, another orgasm ripping through you when he rubs tight, firm circles over your sensitive clit, drool running down your chin at the immense pleasure tingling all over your body.
you aren't sure if you actually heard it before you passed out in john's arms at the end of it all, but you swear he grunted, "i fuckin' own you, so i own her. my pretty pussy, my pretty girl."
(meanwhile, kyle's sorting johnny out in another room, edging him nice and long for being such a slut. if he wanted a good fuck, kyle was right there, and he's feeling offended.
"is it cause i'm not taken?" kyle huffs, cruelly twisting his fist around the head of johnny's cock and grinning meanly at the broken sob he gets in return.)
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bunnis-monsters · 8 months ago
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NSFW
Imagine your vampire husband guiding you onto your werewolf best friend’s cock, cooing softly as you winced in discomfort at the stretch.
“Oh, my little angel… you’re taking it so well, can’t you be a good girl for your dear friend and give him a litter of pups?”
You whimpered, staring down at your friend. His wrists were bound to the bed frame, but you could see in his eyes that all he wanted to do was ravish you, to have his hands all over your soft, delicate body.
But your husband held the reins. He was the one guiding you, digging his nails into the werewolf’s thigh if he bucked his hips upwards a bit too roughly.
Your husband sneered, looking down at your friend with his scarlet eyes.
“Gentle, mutt. Getting to fuck my wife is a privilege that I can take away. Now…”
His voice became gentle again, a purr escaping his lips as his fangs brushed against your neck. “Is it feeling good, my angel? Oh, you want it a little faster?”
Even though you were bouncing on your friend’s cock, you called out your husband’s name. He was the one moving your hips at the perfect pace, rubbing your clit in circles and biting into your neck, your friend was basically just a dildo to your husband.
“There we go, take his knot love. It’ll be uncomfortable for a moment, but you’ll get used to it…”
After leaving both of you a complete mess, your husband untied your friend, then carried you away. “Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart. Shh, don’t worry about him… he’s already asleep.”
Your husband ravished you as soon as you were in his bedroom, reveling in the fact that he got to touch you when no one else could.
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yeyinde · 1 month ago
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You want a baby. Simon can't get over his hangups to give you one. The solution to both problems? Johnny.
18+ SMUT. breeding. mildly dubious consent. Johnny feasts on your pussy and then does his best to knock you up while Simon watches. slight body worship. bastardization of religious imagery. Mean!Dom Simon. rough, messy sex.
He's not the type to saw off his own hand to feed you, but would rather find a third man to satiate you both. The only one who can care for you, he said. Can't do that when he's dead, can he?
Maybe that's why he calls for Johnny.
down boy. eager mutt. lil' pyedogs got himself all twisted up in a rutt. help him, won't you, pet?
Johnny's softer than Simon but only just. This margin of distance, however, could be the gaping maw of a canyon for how wide it really is when scaled down to fit. Boxed inside a narrow bed—on your belly, cheek on Simon's knee; ass up, legs spread. Johnny behind you—colluvium to Simon's mountainside, but still so broad, so thick, your hips twinge with the effort of keeping your knees so wide apart.
You feel it whistling through the chasm when he licks his lips behind you—a loud, lascivious smack, a wet suckle—and feel the burn of his stare riveted on the split of your flesh. This bare seam Simon swears he found nirvana tucked deep inside of. A buried ravine. Aquifer he quenches himself on.
A pilgrimage Johnny has been aching to take.
And that's what this is, isn't it? Yatra to the hidden piscina. A procession to pollute the tarn—something Simon can't bring himself to do.
Bad genes. Trauma—sticky, noxious tar that oozes from the rotting filaments; festering deep inside. Cancerous: a mass you long to cleave from bone but know it's not cosmetic. Not just the ball joints, or the studs, but the foundation itself. If you start tearing up pieces now you'll have nothing but an empty plot and a pile of damaged debris.
So:
Enter the third man.
A tool. Vassel. Pays fealty by fucking a baby into your womb.
It's what you wanted, isn't it?
(yes, but—)
It happens faster than you can keep up with. Hands on your hips. Coarse hair tickling the back of your thigh. Warm breath against sticky, wet flesh. A broad nose parting your folds. Inhale. Exhale on a deep, reedy groan.
"fuck, ye smell heavenly, doe."
Simon hums before you can peel your tongue from the roof of your mouth, answering for you with a brassy invitation: tastes even better, Johnny.
It's all the permission he needs before he pushes his head closer to your bare cunt, groaning as his tongue cleaves a silky, thick line between your folds. Gorging himself without much preamble. Hands curled around your hips like expensive silverware, pulling you back into the wanting, eager suck of his mouth.
All at once, it's too much. Your hips shift, squirming away from his tongue, the too-sharp press of his teeth against soft, sensitive flesh. Mewling, whimpering into the rain-wet fabric of Simon's jeans.
His hand falls on your head. A gentle tap. Behave, it says, but you can't.
Johnny tramples over that thin line between pleasure and ecstasy, blurring them both until it becomes pain. Overwhelming. Shoving you towards the edge before you've readied yourself for the fall.
"Can't, Simon, can't—"
The words elide, slurring into a high-pitched whine as Johnny feasts on your cunt. Devours you from the inside out—all teeth and tongue, sucking your clit until your thighs cramp from how tight your muscles tense, bleeding lactic acid over sore flesh. The scrape of his stubble over your folds, chafing them until they are raw. Swollen. Drenched hole fucked with the spear of his tongue, digging so deep you begin to fear that he's trying to crawl inside of you. Salt your womb with his own two hands—
"Can take it, birdie," is all Simon says before his hand slides down your arched, trembling spine. Fingers digging into the meat of your cheek, spreading you wider for Johnny to eat. "Look how eager he is. Can't get enough of that sweet cunt."
"It's—it's too much—"
You don't feel him move. Can't see much from the blurry tears in your eyes. But his other hand whips out, cracking over your untouched cheek in a firm, burning smack. One that makes Johnny moan when it lands. Cruel. Open palm. Hard enough to leave a welt in the shape of his hand—something that makes him groan when he sees it.
"fuckin' hell—" his fingers dig into the aching flesh, grip bruising.
Johnny peels his wet, open mouth away long enough to pant into the slick spread of your cunt, resting his cheek on the swell of your ass. "Bit rough wit' 'er, Lt."
Simon considers it. Body shaking the bed when he shrugs, leaning back to trail his hand back up your spine, curling over the arch of your nape. Keeping you still as you sob into his knee. "She likes it."
"know she does. Fuck, Lt. Can feel 'er little pussy twitching. Tryin' tae suck me in."
Another hum. The grip on your asscheek eases as his hand peels away, sliding over swell before notching a finger between your cleft. Dry. Rough. It drags down your seam until it brushes over your fluttering hole, calloused tip digging in.
"soft, too, ain't it?" He asks, words mockingly cruel in their conversational tone. Nonchalant. But Johnny's hands tighten on your waist, palms slick with sweat. Glueing to your flesh. You can tell he likes that. Likes the way Simon talks about you. Demeaning and brutish. Butcher selling a piece of meat. "Bit of a tight fit at first—" he curls his finger inside of you, stretching your sore walls with the width of his knuckle. Sinking in deep. Another follows before you can remember how to breathe around the sting. "But swallows you up like a goddamn dream, Johnny."
His breaths grow ragged. "Fuck, Lt. Look at th'."
It makes you clench up around Simon's fingers, embarrassment scorching through your chest. "Please—"
Neither of them acknowledge you. Simon's fingers split, spreading wide apart as Johnny shuffles forward for a closer look, and nearly choking on his next inhale when he does.
"such a pretty fuckin' pussy—" he says it like a curse. Spitting the words out on a snarl. Angry, now, for reasons you can't discern slobbering over Simon's leg. "God, Lt. ah cannae—"
Johnny shifts back. You hear the clink of a belt. The rip of a zipper. Choked groans barely swallowed down as Simon buries his fingers inside of your weeping cunt over and over again, blunt tips cruelly skating over a spot inside, just behind your navel, that makes you feel liquid and loose between your hips. Debris floating down a whiteriver.
Pleasure peaks with each brutal thrust until you're howling into his leg, unable to move with their hands on your body, holding you down. Making you take it. Making you come undone as Johnny watches.
"fuck, fuck, Lt—she's gonna cum, ain't she?"
"Wanna feel it, Johnny?"
Simon's name falls out of his mouth on a whispered prayer. Drenched in thick reverence. Arched in need.
"aye, sir—" there's something about the hush of his voice, the way it slurs into putty. Enshrining his need in a halo of gold. It sends shivers down your spine. Heats you up fast like a fever. Sends you screaming over the edge—
"gonna miss it, Johnny. She's squeezin' me so fuckin' tight—"
Whatever else they say is swallowed by the keen clawing at the hollow of your throat when you feel the blunt, fat press of his cock knocking against your swollen, stuffed rim.
It's a burning thing—a sharp, heavy ache. Knock, knock. Simon spreads his fingers again, forcing you open. Pulling your hole wide apart for Johnny's engorged head to push up against.
It feels like being split down the middle. Ripped apart. Simon's fingers flex around your nape, thumb brushing soothingly against the knob of your spine.
Can take it, he mutters, brassy and low. A rumble just for you. Gotta take it, birdie.
You forget why. Why you need Johnny's too big, too fat cock inside of your cunt until the head bullies through, scissoring Simon's fingers apart until they're pressed tight on either side of the flared glands. Squeezed between your taut rim and Johnny's cock.
Johnny makes a noise like you've gutted him. A gutwrenching sob. "Oh, shite, Lt. M'—m'nae gonnae last—"
"gonna cum inside 'er, Johnny? Knock my pretty birdie up?"
Right. Right. A baby.
There's a heavy push. Your flesh wrenched apart to fit the fat, throbbing length of his cock—
(the cock that's gonna knock you up—)
Simon's fingers slip out of you as Johnny bucks forward, burying himself deep inside with a long, throaty groan. It's a horrible sensation—a bellyache. Without the splint of Simon's fingers forcing you open wide to near numbness, you're forced to feel the thick girth of his cock. Rim fluttering, spasming over the flared base. Too much, and somehow, not enough.
You sob through it. Each one ripples through your chest until it feels like it will collapse. Every inch of your body burns, throbbing. You don't think you'll survive this ache—
Johnny sets a brutal pace. Likes pistoning into you in quick succession until you're nearly howling into Simon's thigh before slowing to a crawl. Force-feeding you every inch. Making you feel every single one. Long strokes that batter the plug of your womb, bullying against the aching seal of your cervix until the flashes of pain, the savagery of this pleasure, makes you feel sick.
Getting fucked by Johnny like this is both a punishment and a reward. Baptism in hellfire.
Be careful what you wish for—
"gonnae fuck ye 'til it takes, doe. Knock ye up. Want th', don't ye? Aye. Can feel it. Feel this little cunt beggin' fer ma cum. Dinnae worry. Ahm gonnae give it tae ye. A' o' it, doe. Every—fuckin'—drop—"
Each awful word lands like acid on your spine. Chewing through flesh, tissue, until it melts bone below. Liquified. Helpless.
And with Johnny's hands on your hips, anchoring you in place as he hammers into your sore, abused pussy, possessed with the need to carve a space inside of your flesh where only he fits, rots, and Simon's hand on the scruff of your neck, holding you down, there's nowhere to run. Nowhere to escape the ragged breaths that spill from Johnny's slick mouth, the desperate way he pumps into you—thrusts growing sloppy as he stretches towards the precipice they dangle you off of, kicking and screaming as the scent of iron fills your nose, as his flared cockhead scrapes over that place you thought only Simon would ever know. Bluntly battering into the altar that sits, nestled behind your navel, like he's allowed.
Holy offering in a handful of seeds he'll sow over fecund land until something grows.
"Look at you take it," Simon coos, sticky, damp fingers petting over your tear-stained cheeks. It smells of loam. Salt. Iron and ozone. "So pretty when you're gettin' bred, ain't you, birdie?"
It rips a mournful keen from your chest, a feverish moan following on its heels when the lewd squelch, the echoing slapslapslap of Johnny driving into your cunt fills your ears. So wet, so messy, you can feel the slick drying, tacky and thick, on the inner crease of your bent knee.
"He's gonna put our baby in you, ain't he, birdie? Like a good mutt—"
The hands holding you over the precipice let go. Johnny's answering moan spears into your head, fluttering around the pulsing heartbeat of liquid bliss frothing in the pit of your belly. Overflowing over the rim.
Too much, you think, but that's not quite right because you can't feel anything at all except the length of his thick cock lodged deep inside you. Throbbing in tandem with your second pulse.
"gonnae cum, Lt. Gonnae—oh, fuck, Lt—"
His voice is a warm river washing over your spine. Pooling ecstacy. Something heavenly. Divine—
Molten gold blooms in the pit of your belly. Cockhead spitting against the seal of your womb as he cums, filling you to the brim. Fucking it into you even as his cock softens, unable to pull out he says.
Feels like fuckin' heaven, Lt.
"ain't she just?" Simon volleys back, sounding oddly dissonant. Off-key. "Pretty little birdie got what she wanted, huh?"
The drawl of his tone—acid-scorched, electric—forces you to blink through the tears, lifting your aching, wet eyes upwards at him. Searching.
He has the eyes of a predator. Leonine. The gaze of a beast after it's devoured something whole. His touch is as gentle as he can be—a rough, cracked scratch over your blistered cheeks—and when he meets your divining stare, he coos.
"Maybe I'll 'ave a go next time."
In the pounding, soporific slurry of your mind, you can't wrap your head around the words. Can't make sense of them. Struggling to keep your burning eyes open, even.
Not that it matters.
Johnny huffs a scorching breath of laughter over your sweat-slicked spine before wedging his forearm under your belly. Keeping your hips tipped up as he falls into you, resting his broad chest against your back and smothering you into the damp mattress.
"Yer cruel, Lt," he rasps, chin nuzzling over the arch of your shoulder, cock giving a feeble twitch inside of you at something you can't seem to piece together.
"m'jus' givin' my pretty bird exactly what she asked for." Huh? He prods, fingers tapping over your cheek when your swollen eyes slide shut. "Forgettin' y'manners, ain't you? Say thank you, pet."
With Johnny's half-formed chuckle echoing in your head, you mumble the words out on an exhausted sigh.
"an' say thank you to this mutt f'knockin' you up."
It comes out slower this time. Sluggish. His cock gives another twitch as he buries his face between your shoulder blades, smothering a groan.
"Sweetest thing, Lt. Christ—"
"more where that came from, Johnny. Jus' you wait an' see." Another tap. You mewl in response, feeling war-torn and achy. Unable to open your eyes for a second time, all you can do is whimper, burying yourself into his thigh. Pleading, silently, for clemency. Later, you think. Later—
But Simon has other plans.
"Fallin' asleep on me, birdie? Ain't even gonna give me a chance to put my baby in you? Greedy little thing, ain't she?"
Buried under the weight of Johnny as he peppers sucking, open mouth kisses over the width of your shoulder, cum leaking out around the softening plug of his cock, all you can do is snuff out the sob on the arch of his knee, resisting the urge to bite instead.
"Maybe next time then, eh, birdie?" Since you've been so good for this mutt, huh? Maybe I'll give you a reward.
Just be careful what you wish for, huh, birdie.
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yanderenightmare · 7 months ago
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TW: nsfw, yandere, toxic relationship, friends with benefits, guns, threats of harm and death, name-calling
gn reader
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When you open your heart to your fuck-friend, he sighs with rust.
You still have his cum inside your hole as he tears you a new one—telling you he doesn’t have the fucking time or the fucking energy to deal with lovey-dovey confessions right now—he has enough bullshit on his goddamn plate already without having to consider you and your fucking feelings as well.
If you’re not going to shut up and fuck him, you might as well shut up and fuck off.
So you do. The latter, that is.
Part of you knew it was going to end up this way. You with your heart broken and him with the blood on his hands. But part of you had hoped as well—hoped he felt the same way—hoped your words would soften his edges and wash away all the muck in his head enough to let you in.
You’d read a little too much into those gentle touches he sometimes bestowed upon you in his weaker moments—that soft way he cried when holding onto you during the night, wordless and clingy and begging you not to go.
But the more you think about it, the less you understand why your heart aches. It doesn’t really make much sense after all…
In truth, he’s an asshole. Always been. And you deserve better.
He’s always so angry. Always on something mudding up his blood. Never with anything nice to say. It doesn’t really matter how you’d held him in his nightmares or patched him up when he’d stumbled through your door drunk and bloody. 
Scarred boys in need of fixing aren’t good for your health—especially when all they have to offer you in return are callous words of rejection.
He’d always been secretive. He wasn’t a very good lover—but you're not entirely sure if he was ever even a good man. The wounds he’d dreg to your apartment in the middle of the night always left blood on your sheets. He never agreed to go to the hospital—always insisted your first-aid kit was enough, even when he'd come to you with bullets you’d have to dig out with a pair of tweezers.
You realize he’d been using you. You were convenient and stopped being convenient the minute you wanted more—and upon the realization, you move on.
And then he comes crawling back…
Shivering in the rain like a beaten street mutt—looking starved and sick like one, too. There’s blood on his shirt and a grim darkness in his eyes. He tells you to let him in, and you only barely have the guts to tell him to go away. 
He has this tortured look on his face—as though something’s your fault, as though you’ve wronged him in some way, as though you’re the reason he’s out in the cold with nowhere to go.
Barging in and slamming the door behind him—he locks it and pockets the key—ignoring your questions as you ask him what the fuck’s gotten into him. He looks deranged—water dripping from his matted bangs, eyes reddened, and cheeks streaked. You only now notice it isn't because of the rain.
“You said you wanted me, didn’t you?” he huffs. “Here I am.”
You’re tense. You hadn’t felt like that with him before, it takes you a minute to realize it’s because you’re scared. After all, you’d wanted him all those other times—rough or otherwise. And now you didn’t want him at all. 
“You should leave. You’ve been drinking.”
“What? You changed your mind already?” he accused, then scoffed with a not-so-unamused laugh. “I’m not surprised. People like you, who like danger and bad men, are always so fickle-hearted.” He approaches you too fast for you to back away, his scarred hands curling into your sweater—split skin from recent beatings bleed onto the fabric. “Flighty little slut, you’ve probably already found the next guy who gives you a rush. Isn’t that right?” He’s seething as he pulls you forward, looking like a hostile hound.
You lay your hands on his chest to keep him at a distance—feeling his entire body shake like static beneath your touch. You wonder if he’s taken drugs tonight, but looking into his eyes, you don’t think so. They aren’t fidgety but deadset. Actually, upon closer look, you don’t even think he’s drunk.
But anyway, it doesn’t really matter. You still don’t want him here. “I’m serious. Get out, or I’m calling the police.”
“Oh? Are we slinging threats now?” he jeers, showing no signs of letting go or leaving—he only pulls you in closer, so close you could kiss. “What? Don’t tell me you’re scared now.” He breathes out another short excuse for a laugh as you veer away, putting his lips to your ear instead. “You should have been from the start—but no—grinding up on me at the club as though you’d die without my attention. Crying pretty tears when you saw me all beaten and bruised—acting as though you want to save me. Tch—”
He throws you down on the carpeted floor. You wince from the impact, and when you look up again, you see he has a gun pointed at you.
You stop breathing. A dark sinkhole in your gut seems to want to swallow you from the inside, and you think you might just want it to if it means escaping the threat before you.
“I shouldn't have come here…” he mutters—finger resting on the trigger all too calmy. “But I just couldn’t get your face out of my head. Looking up at me with those doe-eyes, wearing my shirt even though it’s got blood on it after I fuck you silly, saying such sweet little nothings as if I’d paid you to.”
He sighs—heavily—as though he’s expelling spirits. His hand remains holding the gun poised and pointed straight down at you even as the other drags down his face, pulling his maw before sliding through his wet locks, raking them away from his face.
“I gotta kill you, you know?” he says, shoulders slumping with the statement. He sniffs—it's almost soft enough to be a sniffle. “That’s the only way to solve this. That’s the only way to get you out of my fucking head.”
He cocks the safety with a click that makes your life flash before your eyes. Faces of your family and friends, people you haven't seen in years, childhood pets long dead, a job interview, the holiday you felt true happiness, the night you went out dancing and met him.
The tears stream silently down your face, and you still don’t breathe. Every part of you, every nerve and muscle, has gone completely still. Unmoving, unblinking as you stare up through the barrel of the gun and wait for the bullet to come through.
His finger curls tighter around the trigger, and you close your eyes with a furl between your brows. And then…
Nothing. There’s a large exhale.
“I can’t do it…” 
You open your eyes to see the gun lowered. The sight brings a fresh rush of air back to your lungs, making you all but wheeze as it fills you, breathing in far too much and much too quickly. You regain some semblance worth of motoric, too—able to scramble backward until there’s no more room to be gained, sitting with your back against the wall. Eyes peeled at him where he’s taken to crouch, holding his head with his free hand and the one still with the gun in it.
He fists his hair and tugs on it frustratedly, muttering to himself. “Dozens of lives on my hands, and I can't kill this one single-” he stopped short.
This time, when he looks at you, there’s something else in his eyes. No malice or scorn, but something sad—pity almost.
“Well… seems like you got what you wanted...”
The pity’s for you.
“This is what having my heart feels like.”
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♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shoto, Dabi ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Toji ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi
♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist
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letsbangts · 28 days ago
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mutt || jjk
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⤷ summary: when you realize you can’t teach an old dog new tricks
⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader
⟶ word count: 6k+
18+ // mdni
⟶ genre: smut, angst, friends with benefits au
⟶ content: fuckboy!jk, tattooartist!jk, porn with some plot
⟶ warnings: explicit language, jk is kinda toxic, jk being a bit manipulative, explicit sexual content: dirty talk, fingering, praising, teasing, kissing/making out, nipple sucking, spitting, oral (f. receiving), biting, spanking, big dick jk, soft dom jk, rough sex (doggy bcuz duh), pet names, multiple orgasms
↬ a/n: hope you enjoy & let me know what you think! angel xoxo
˖⁺. ༶ NOW PLAYING ༶ .⁺˖ mutt leon thomas 01:43 ─✮───── 03:07 ⇆ ⊲ II ⊳ ↺ ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮
masterlist
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I can't smoke on reggie, so pardon my bluntness I see past pretty faces, so I got trouble trusting
You're sitting on your couch watching TV when you hear your phone vibrating against the coffee table where it lies. Sitting up and leaning over to pick it up and check, you gaze at the name read across the lit-up screen. You hold the phone staring at the call for a few long seconds before finally deciding to answer, releasing a heavy sigh as you do.
Because picking up at all means he has a chance tonight.
Feigning ignorance you ask, “Hey Kook, what's up?”
It's a question you already know the answer to. There is only one reason Jungkook calls you, and his reply confirms just that.
“I wanna see you come over,” he bluntly says into the phone like it's the most obvious thing, and him being right is what frustrates you.
Hearing that, a part of you is happy that he chose to call you and wants to be in your presence while the other part of you, the rational one, isn't as delighted knowing this moment will pass. It always does because that is just what you are to him, a moment.
You hear rustling in the background on his side of the phone, clearly distracted by other things while he talks to you.
“I don't know about tonight,” you hesitate, but make no move to hang up.
New crib, told her, "Come through," it's time to bring it in ... New condo, say your name at the front, you can stay if you want
Jungkook has played this game enough times to know exactly what to say. He’s a veteran player skilled in always finding the right words to switch you from the opposing side to his own.
He sighs, “Don’t be like that.”
“Like what?” You reply.
The rustling in the background stops indicating he's halted his movements and focused on you. You bite your lip sensing Jungkook is about to make his way right through what you thought was your shrinking window of opportunity.
“Don’t act like you don't want to see me too. Don't be distant with me."
“I’m not being distant with you—“
"I've invited you to my new place to visit and you still haven't shown up. It’s not fair for you to withhold that pretty little face from me," he cuts you off persuading with his charm. And you swear you can see his puppy eyes through the phone.
"It's already late, Kook," you try.
"You can stay over if you want," he continues, "I miss you, baby. No one else makes me feel the way you do. You know how much you mean to me, how much I trust you. I had a rough night and it's been a minute since I've seen you. Are you trying to hurt me more like this?”
Your silence on the other end of the line is more than enough to answer his question.
“Just… come over. Let me see you. Please?” Jungkook pleads to sink his claws into you more.
He’s about to pull the phone away from his ear to make sure the call didn’t disconnect when he hears you sigh softly on the other end.
“Okay.”
"I can't wait to see you, baby. Just tell the concierge your name when you get here," he ends with.
And with a quiet parting, you finally hang up and get dressed. Making your way out the front door to your car, headed straight for the man who has you locked in his cage. You try not to ponder on whether he gave the front desk your name because he was hoping you'd come or if it was that he was expecting you to.
It's been one of those nights, one of those nights I ain't had in a minute ... But it's never the same as the first time we did it First time we did it
It would be a lie to say it didn't feel good to hear Jungkook begging to see you, you'd like to think he wouldn’t do it for anybody else.
While driving to his condo you start reflecting on how you got here. Thinking back to the autumn you met him: the way he smiled brightly at you when you entered the tattoo studio, the reassuring squeeze he gave your side to calm you down after noticing you jerk at the buzzing of the needle, and his light praises as he worked on your skin.
Permanently marking your body and your life.
He truly is a charming guy. His sweetness is what drew you in, the way it seemed he cared for you. Calling to check how your ink was healing only to come over to make sure you were right when you said it was doing fine. The late-night visits when you'd say you had a bad day at work. The random car rides after you'd mention you're bored. It was nice back then, you wonder when that changed.
The past seven months of running to Jungkook when he calls, feeling wanted and getting tangled in his sheets. To then be slapped in the face with the reminder that you're not the only one he has on a leash.
Before you know it, you're standing in front of his door. You raise a fist and knock on it, hearing footsteps approaching on the other side before the sound of it unlocking.
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JK POV
Jungkook swings the door open wide and leans one arm on its frame looking down at you as you finally come face to face. It’s been over three weeks since he last saw you, and he knew you were slipping through his fingers. When he got his new place it was the perfect chance to see you so he's been trying to convince you to come over since he moved in.
As he takes you in, standing on his stoop with an expression clear you're unsure if you should be here. The tight white tube top snug on your chest and the low-rise jeans you're wearing allow the tattoo he put on you to peek out. Creating a feeling of possessiveness in him without you knowing what you're doing to him. Fuck, it’s been too long.
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As you stand there with Jungkook's alluring appearance: white wifebeater that shows off his sleeve of ink, grey sweat pants hanging low, and hair wet—you feel your resolve crumble.
Fresh out of the shower, his musky clean scent engulfs you from here, as he flashes that smile that got you here in the first place.
“Hey, baby,” he says coolly. It's like he's completely unaware of the inner conflict you're going through.
You smile meekly as you brush past him to walk inside. He doesn't move aside, purposefully taking up most of the doorway so you have to press up against him, and when you do, he closes the door with one hand as the other reaches for you. His fingers hook in the belt loop of your jeans to pull you closer he wraps an arm around your waist pulling you in your chest against his.
“You're still being cold with me, huh?" he lowers his head to meet your gaze, "You're breaking my heart, baby.”
You look up making eye contact with his sparkling orbs, "No, I told you I'm not."
"Then where's my kiss?" he questions.
And that's where your inner conflict ends.
But I'll let my guard down for you Said I'll put my guard down for you
You loop your arms around his neck and tilt your head up, his lips find yours at the same time his hands slide down around your hips, fingers slipping into your back pockets stretched taut over your ass and squeezing. You gasp at the feeling and he takes the opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth.
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JK POV
Jungkook knows that you’ve been pulling away from him. But he doesn't see what the problem is and if you were honestly done with him, then you wouldn’t have come here. And you certainly wouldn’t be twirling your tongue together with his.
Jungkook's head lowers to the crook of your neck and starts kissing to make you squirm the way he likes.
“I need to make up for my Y/N withdrawal,” he murmurs against your skin, and you giggle.
“I’m serious,” Jungkook remarks. He pauses to suck a mark into your skin, only stopping when he manages to bring a soft whimper out of you. “Why did you ghost me? You know that if you want to end this all you have to do is tell me.”
His lips make you shiver, "I-I know."
Jungkook’s lips graze over the shell of your ear “Then am I not satisfying you anymore,”
"No, t-that's not it. I've just been busy," you muster out an excuse.
Jungkook clicks his tongue at your answer and nips at your ear, "You lying to me now," he continues,
"We've always been honest with each other."
You stay silent.
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You can't disagree with him, Jungkook has always been straight with you. Before you hooked up the first time he made it clear to you he wasn't looking for anything serious, and you told him you were okay with that. This was true at the time. Back then you were going through a dry spell so a man like Jungkook was just what you needed.
But as you two continued to spend time together, your feelings began to get more blurred. Although unsure if he would regard you as one, you considered him a friend. You both got along so great, not just sexually but beyond that. So as time went on your feelings for him only grew.
That should have been when you stopped what you two started but stupidly you didn't. And that's where your honesty fell short.
Jungkook has always been open with you that he was sleeping with other people, and it did hurt you knowing he was seeing other women because you were only sleeping with him. And as much as you could've done the same, you didn't. You were never the type of woman to sleep around with multiple people. It didn't feel right to you, plus you got everything you needed from Jungkook. So it stung more knowing that he didn't get the same from you, that you weren't enough.
But you enjoyed spending time with him, and you figured he must have enjoyed spending time with you just as much since he could have just stopped seeing you. So you supposed it must have been more than just the sex for him because if he only wanted that you knew he was also getting it from others.
Although lately things have felt different for you, your feelings for him remain but you no longer notice a friendship between you two. Maybe it was never really there to begin with but it started to seem like you were just a good fuck for him.
Just another contact in his phone, a quick and easy booty call. And you now realize you are.
As difficult as it was to keep all this to yourself, you knew if you told him that you had to stop sleeping with one another because you developed feelings for him—that would be it. He would have no reason to see or talk to you anymore. And foolishly that was something you weren't sure you were ready for.
So you decided to settle for just avoiding him instead. It kept you far enough from being hurt by his actions yet kept him close enough to seem like he was still around.
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JK POV
Truthfully, Jungkook does like you, not enough to settle down but he wouldn't do that with anyone. You are sweet, beautiful and great in bed. It is easy to talk to you and fun to hang out with you—you're a great match for him honestly. But right now he’s young, and he wants to be carefree and have fun.
Jungkook has noticed that you seem to want more than what the two of you initially agreed upon, yet selfishly he doesn’t want to let you go. He likes having you around, he has never kept someone he was seeing around as long as you. Jungkook wouldn't say this out loud but you're special. He sees how different you are from the other women he hangs out with. Not just in the bedroom, and holy shit are you great in bed, but as a person.
He knows that you haven't been with anyone other than him this whole time, and secretly that made him happy. If what was going on between you two was to end, he knew it wouldn't be difficult for you to find someone to replace him. Someone who would likely give you more than Jungkook is. Any guy would jump at the chance to be with you and that makes his blood fucking boil, the idea of you with someone else.
People would probably say he's a asshole for still seeing you but Jungkook has never claimed to be perfect. That's why he takes time to give you extra attention when things feel shaky with you two, securing his hold on you. You’re always so good for him, always coming when he calls.
It’s probably fucked up, but even though he just told you to say the word to end all this, he wouldn't let you go that easily.
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Said I'll be vulnerable So you can break my heart if you want to
When your silence continues Jungkook is aware you don't intend on giving him a truthful answer.
“Hmm if you don't want to tell me, that's fine. Maybe you need to be reminded why you started coming to me in the first place,” he barks.
He moves his hands to your hips and pushes you back till the back of your knees hit the couch causing you to fall onto it. Jungkook stands over you looking down like a predator stalking his prey. The sight makes you wet, panties sticking to you.
Your heartbeat picks up as you gaze up at him. With a smirk, he uses one leg to tease your thighs apart. He leans forward his hands bracing on the back of the couch behind you, arm muscles flexing as he cages you in, and captures you in a heated kiss.
“Pants off, baby,” he growls into your mouth, shifting to grip your neck with one hand as he kisses you again. You whine in his mouth as you do as you’re told.
You missed this: the way he smells, how soft his lips are, the way he dominates you.
Once your jeans are off Jungkook lips leave yours and his knees drop to the carpet as he settles between your legs. His gaze sets on the permanent mark on your hip, the one he put there—the one that brought you two together. His eyes find yours as he gives it a peck then hooks his biceps under your thighs and he tugs you to the edge of the couch.
Jungkook draws out a moan from you when he sucks a hickey into the soft skin of your inner thigh. He bites at it before pulling back with a final lick over the mark that sends a shiver down your spine. You open your legs wider for him, leaning back against the cushion.
“Good girl,” Jungkook praises with a smirk.
He takes one hand between your thighs to yank your panties to the side, tattooed fingers spreading your folds apart.
When he leans back he murmurs, "So fucking pretty, I missed this pussy so much."
Making eye contact he dives in and licks a long, slow stripe up the front of the wet material, taking his time, your hips tilt up on their own for more.
“Kook,” you whine, the desperation in your voice only turns him on more.
He works up some saliva in his mouth and lets it dribble down over your slit between his fingers, then follows it with another pass of his tongue.
“Don't worry you know I always take care of you, baby, ” Jungkook purrs, he goes back in sucking your clit.
“Oh my fucking god,” you mewl.
“Shit, baby you're soaking,” he teases along with his touch down to your entrance. He pushes a finger in only to drag it back out, and a thin, glossy string of arousal comes with it.
“Your pussy missed me just as much. That’s why you couldn't stay away,” he winks.
And once again, his being right frustrates you because you could never stay away. Like he knew the moment he called you would end up in the exact position you are now because he knows you can’t say no to him. That fact is evident by how quickly you showed up at his door.
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JK POV
Jungkook pulls your panties down your thighs before guiding your legs to hang over his shoulders. Glancing up to meet your eyes, arms locked across your stomach to keep you in place, flashes you a cheeky smile then he starts eating you out like a starved animal. His tongue traces through your folds, lapping at your wet entrance while his thumb circles over your clit to work up more. Jungkook’s brows pinch together and he grunts in appreciation of your familiar taste.
You squeak, and Jungkook just thinks you're so damn cute he can't hold back a smirk as he pleasures you.
He enjoys the way your soft sighs transition into loud moans, hips matching pace to the steady rhythm of his tongue. He likes making you squirm, he can feel the muscles in your thighs twitch in response— always so sensitive.
“Kook,” you moan, “ah, fuck— f-feels so good,” your fingers make their way into his long locks and tug.
Smiling against your folds he hums, and the vibrations make you cry out so he does it some more, lips closing to suck firmly at your clit.
“I'm gonna cum,” you call out as he continues his assault against your clit, tongue returning to flick at the sensitive nub. 
Your hips rise as your orgasm washes over you and he shoves them back down, practically growling as he forces you to stay put and take it. He can feel your legs tremble, your heels dig into his back as he sucks and licks you through your climax. He keeps going until you can't take anymore and push at his head, whimpering from overstimulation.
A final kiss to your pussy and Jungkook pulls back with a cocky grin on his face, chin glistening. He knows no one else will ever pleasure you like him. 
You barely manage to regulate your breathing before he slides your legs off his shoulders. His hands press on your thighs to encourage them to spread further before he slips two fingers knuckles deep into your cunt.
Your walls squeeze so tight around him, the sound of your overflowing juices as he pumps into you so filthy. You reach out to grab onto something and your hands find his bicep your nails digging into his skin.
Jungkook glances up and he can’t help but smile at your fucked out expression. You’re past the point of being able to talk, but that doesn't stop him.
“You missed me too, right baby?”
You can only whimper in response and he halts his movements, fingers deep inside you.
“What was that? Use your words, baby,” he taunts.
You nod desperately until you manage to find your voice.
“Yes.”
You look so innocent and obedient, it makes Jungkook want to fucking ruin you.
“Yes, what?” Jungkook mocks as he curves his fingers to caress over your velvety walls.
"Y-yes I," you take a deep breath, "I missed you," you finally manage to get out.
Jungkook presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, trying to hide his smug smirk and goes back to his fast pace. This time he doesn't hold you down when you fuck yourself on his hand, clenching around his fingers and trembling all over again. Jungkook watches you in awe with his mouth slightly agape as he works you through your second peak. He loves how your nails dig into him with your tight grip like you need him to ground yourself.
Once you finally start to come down your thighs shut around Jungkook’s wrist to still the motions of his hand. When he hears you whimper from oversensitivity, he finally relents. You open your legs so he can slip his fingers out, he lifts them to his mouth to suck them clean. As he watches your chest heaving with your head tip back and eyes closed, he rises to his feet.
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In one swift move, Jungkook leans forward, slipping an arm between your back and the couch and sweeping the other under your knees. He tosses you over his shoulder with zero struggle, delivering a swift slap to your ass with the hand that isn’t wrapped around your hips.
You gasp out a laugh, “What are you doing?!”
You haven't seen this playful side of him in a while. This is the Jungkook know—the Jungkook you let your walls down for.
“We gotta get more comfortable, baby,” Jungkook replies as he carries you across the living room, “I can't fuck my girl properly on the couch.”
His girl. Your heart flutters at the notion but your stomach twists at the lie.
He easily opens his bedroom door with his free hand walks in and sets you down on the bed, making quick work of stripping out of his clothes, hard cock hanging heavy between his legs. Bringing you back in the moment, your lingering thoughts pushed aside.
You remove your top and sit fully naked on his mattress. Staring up at him waiting for his next move.
He crawls over to you, you lay down as his body hovers over yours. You bite your lip as you look into his dark eyes.
"Now, will you finally tell me what's been going on?" His voice is low, his mouth ghosting over yours, his hand brushing some hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear.
Your foot lightly kicks his muscular thigh, "Nothing's going on," you sigh.
“Why are you pulling away from me?” His nose runs down from the side of your neck to the valley between your breasts, it makes you shiver and your nipples.
“I'm not,” you whisper.
“You are,” Jungkook says softly. “And I don't like it.”
A hand cups one of your breasts, and he ducks down to suck the stiff peak of it into his mouth, enjoying the airy little moan he coaxes out of you and the way you arch up into him. He switches giving the other fleshy mound the same attention.
“It hurt me, baby,” his eyes find yours in time to watch your expression soften.
You remember his words from the call that brought you here so you inquire, shifting the spotlight off you.
You reach up and hold his face in both hands, thumbs stroking his cheeks, and quietly ask, "What about you? You said you had a rough night, what happened?"
Jungkook sighs. His forearms are on either side of you holding his weight as he leans down and presses his forehead against your chest.  
"I don’t want to talk about that. Let's focus on now, hmm?”
You press a kiss into his hair in agreement, and he tilts his head up to kiss your lips. Your arms come to loop around his neck to pull him closer. The two of you make out like teenagers, tongues colliding together.
“Kook, I need you. Please,” you moan, nails dragging down his back as he presses sloppy kisses, mostly tongue and teeth, to your neck.
His mouth finds yours again, and he bites down on your bottom lip with a smile before sitting up. You whine a little and Jungkook’s hands slide to your waist where he gives a teasing pinch.
“Can you get on all fours for me?”
Turning on your stomach, his hands go to your hips to guide you. You barely get on your knees as you feel Jungkook’s arm under you, wrapped around your stomach as he hoists you up, a hand pressing against your back. He dips down and presses a kiss to your temple.
“Comfy?” He murmurs in your ear.
You look up at him over your shoulder with wide, shining eyes, and you nod, Jungkook can't resist ducking down to kiss you before pushing your legs apart. Then his hand and fingers are back on your pussy, rubbing it slowly and spreading more wetness.
“So fucking sexy, you look so fucking beautiful like this, baby,” he groans behind you, causing you to clench embarrassingly as a soft chuckle sounds behind you.
Although you are lost in a haze of lust and pleasure, you still know to take precautions when it comes to Jungkook.
"C-condom, Kook,"
He shakes his amusingly before he reaches towards his nightstand, the sight of a foil package in Jungkook’s hands brings you back to all those times you’ve seen this exact view. He rips it open, pulling out the condom as you watch his every movement, especially those tattoos and veins decorating his muscular arms through the entire process of putting it on and down his thick hardened length.
The arch in your back, when you press your ass up towards him, makes his cock start to leak against his stomach and he gives your ass a firm slap.
The tip of his cock grazes over your pussy, poking your clit and causing you to whimper needily Jungkook’s name. He can’t help but moan as he starts to grind the head of his dick against your folds.
“Oh baby,” he utters huskily.
Gasping, you grip the sheets and hold them tightly in your hands,
“Fuck me, Kook, I wanna feel you.”
Jungkook doesn't waste any more time and lines himself up to your entrance and he pushes his length into you sliding in until he’s pressed to the hilt. You whine into the crook of your elbow, your walls pulsing, filled up and so sensitive.
Jungkook leans forward, hands resting by the pillow under your head on either side of you until his chest is flush with your back and the tip of his cock presses into your g-spot.
“Feels good?” He murmurs in your ear, and you can only whimper and nod.
"This pussy is all mine, right?" Jungkook asks through clenched teeth, nipping at the skin of your shoulder, and he starts to grind his hips against you, rubbing his cock into your g-spot over and over. 
“Yes, all yours,” you whisper, gasping when Jungkook starts thrusting in and out slowly, your mouth falling open right away at the sensual feeling of being stretched.
“Not anyone else's?” he hums like he doesn’t already know.
Even with your mind somewhere else you still feel the sting of what he’s asking you and the irony of it but somehow you manage to nod anyway.
“No,” you choke out.
He pulls out, not fully just enough to let his tip in as he starts sliding back in, this time even deeper than before.
“Good,” he whispers into your ear, straightening as he grabs your hips and starts moving faster. Ramming his hips into you causing his balls to hit your swollen clit which makes your head spin. Fingers digging into your hips so tightly that they might bruise later but the extra added pain adds just the right amount to your already existing pleasure and the tingle between your legs.
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JK POV
"Ah, don’t stop, oh god—” you whimper, pushing your ass back to meet his thrusts. Jungkook can’t stop now, not even if he wanted to, not when it feels this good. You’re so fucking precious.
His hands grip you even tighter, hips moving faster when you beg him to, your soft moans and whimpers of Jungkook’s name coax him to move faster and deeper. Jungkook momentarily pauses as he grabs your ass and pulls your asscheeks apart, getting a good view of your pussy swallowing him.
Jungkook hooks his arm across your chest, and his hand gripped tight to your shoulder gives him more leverage to hit deeper.
“God, you're so fucking amazing, baby. Feels so good,” he growls.
Jungkook can feel the way your whole body is starting to shake and can tell by the way you’re gripping around him that you’re already close. He feels his balls tightening and he knows he’s just seconds from cumming too.
“Come with me, baby,” he grunts, “I want to feel you come again on my cock.”
The evident sound of skin-on-skin clapping echoes in your ears and around Jungkook’s bedroom and he takes no mercy on you, chasing his high and you cling to the sheets for dear life.
He feels good, too good to be true and you clench around him even more tightly, almost shrieking that you’re already ready to cum.
“Oh fuck, Kook, fuck, fuck, I’m coming, I—” With a loud cry, you collapse forward, knees nearly buckling as your third orgasm of the night hits you.
“Shit,” Jungkook curses, his breathing harsh and ragged, dick twitching right before a throaty growl makes its way out of his mouth and he’s finally cumming.
His head tilts back and his eyes screw shut as he comes with you. He fills up the condom, thrusts slowing down until they halt. You whimper softly with your head dropped down into your arms, your pussy still shuddering around him.
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Jungkook squeezes at the curve of your ass as he pulls out with a hiss of oversensitivity. You cringe at the feeling but miss him inside you right away, the empty feeling making its way to your heart. But as soon as Jungkook’s cock is out of you, your whole body fails you and you fall onto your back, eyes to the ceiling.
He smiles at the way you’re still trembling as he disposes of the condom. He then joins you back on the bed, he lies next to you stretching out an arm for you and you move closer to him your face now buried in his chest.
Your rushed and loud breaths can be heard in the room. Jungkook brings a hand to your lower back to rub gentle circles, “You okay, baby?”
"Mhm," you nod with a small sigh.
“That was the best sex I had in a while,” he chuckles, “You wore me out, baby,” closing his eyes as you both lay there for a moment, bodies still hot and sweaty.
"I don't even know why I bother with other women," he comments, "I should've just called you first."
The heat in your body vanishes, you feel like your blood has drained from your body, and Jungkook's room now feels cold. You lift your head from his chest tilting your head up and look at him.
You dreadfully ask, "What do you mean?
"The girl I had over here before," he grimaced, "Couldn't hold a candle to you."
Your stomach twists and you feel your heartbeat pick up so much you hear it in your ears.
You clarify, "Before? You mean before you called me?"
He looks at you and nods, "Mhm."
"So, you had sex with someone else before you called me?"
"Yeah," he lets out a breath as he shakes his head, "It was such a disappointment, I had to end the night right."
You think back to the call before you came here:  
"I miss you, baby. No one else makes me feel the way you do. You know how much you mean to me, how much I trust you. I had a rough night and it's been a minute since I've seen you. Are you trying to hurt me more like this?”
Suddenly you feel vulnerable, a disgusted look forms on your face as you come to the realization, and you sit up abruptly.
Jungkook looks at you with confusion as you turn to face him.
You furrow your brows, "Is that what you were talking about when you said you had a rough night?
"Woah. What's wrong, baby?"
His ignorance of your question is all the confirmation you need, your heart cracks. Moments from earlier now make you feel like a fool.
His freshly showered body when you arrived wasn't because he came home from work but because he was cleaning himself from the sex he just had and when you asked him what was wrong before you fucked and he didn't want to talk about it.
You try to swallow down the lump in your throat as you look around for your clothing, and you lean over to retrieve the ones you see. You begin to get dressed still stinking of sex, only reminding you of the mistake that you've made adding to your sensation of disgust.
"Where are you going? I thought you were staying?"
You ignore his and continue getting dressed as your vision starts to blur.
Jungkook reaches out to touch your shoulder but you flinch away. He notices the tears in your eyes.
“Hey, there's no reason to be upset, baby,” Jungkook says softly.
“No, Jungkook,” you snap, his eyes widen and he can tell by the way you’ve dropped the nickname that this is serious, “That's fucking low even for you.”
"You know I sleep with other people, Y/N," he notes calmly.
"Yes, I know you sleep with other people, but I didn't think you'd have me in your bed before your sheets could even dry from your last fuck," you scoff already up and headed for the living room for the remainder of your clothing.
She said, "Take your time, what's the rush?"
Pulling on the rest of your clothes now fully dressed yet you feel more naked than you were mere minutes ago. You sense Jungkook's presence behind you and turn to resume your rant.
"Do you even care about how that makes me feel? How when some random girl can't please you, you call me as your second pick, like I'm just some backup pussy."
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JK POV
Jungkook should probably take this more seriously, but he can’t help his instinctive reaction, he smirks, "You would have been my first if you hadn't been ignoring me."
You shoot him a look of disbelief, clearly not amused by this response. You move past him to his front door, but Jungkook quickly steps to block you from leaving.
"Hey, hey, hey wait," he grabs your shoulders to stop you, you shrug them off and his arms fall to his side. His eyes meet your own as he rebuts,
"Come on, you know it's not like that with us. You know what you mean to me. I don't see why it's a big deal. I mean, I wear a condom," he shrugs.
"That's not the point," you exasperate, "I didn't think you would do something so disrespectful, Jungkook. Instead of taking the time to have a break in between your dick appointments, you rush to call me over like I'm your bitch."
"Hold on a sec, I respect you," he tries to defend.
"Having respect for someone and disrespecting them are two very different things," you shake your head and continue, "You didn't even mention having someone here tonight until after you slept with me. And said it as if telling me I was the better lay of the night was a compliment," you laugh humorlessly.
"I don't know what you want me to do, Y/N," he says with a heavy exhale.
"If you don't understand why I'm upset Jungkook there isn't anything to do," your voice defeated.
Jungkook knows this is his chance to fight for you or at least apologise but this is who he is. He’s not going to promise he’ll change, and he knows you’re not going to ask him to. He can’t be anything but what he is, but he can hope you’ll stay anyway.
"What can I say, he says,
"Baby, I'm a dog, I'm a mutt"
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They say if you lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas but all you've gotten is heartbreak.
🐾 🐾 🐾 🐾 🐾 🐾 🐾 🐾 🐾 🐾
↬ a/n: okay so i have an idea for a part 2 of this that i'm probably going to work on once i finish a drabble that's currently in progress for a request...so maybe look forward to that :) let me know if that would be something you're interested in! & if you made it this far thank you <3
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yandere-daydreams · 11 months ago
Text
Title: Pet Pastimes.
Pairing: Yandere!Gojo x Reader (JJK).
Word Count: 1.6k.
TW: Dub/Con, Hybrid AU, Snow Leopard!Gojo, Puppy!Reader, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Degradation, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Reader Is Very Oblivious, and Manipulation.
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“And you’re sure this is going to help?”
Satoru had been agitated when Suguru first brought you home – all dolled up in your collar, ecstatic to be led along the very same leash he always strained against. You were more obedient than most of the unruly mutts he knew, always happy enough to sit patiently and wait for your next command, but it would take more than a few weeks of passable behavior to convince Satoru dogs were anything but hyper and messy and so loud, he could hear their mindless barking from a mile away. The fact that you were supposedly here to ‘help’ him (Suguru called you a “service animal”, said most captive-born exotic hybrids had more domestic companions, but Satoru didn’t think you deserved such a pretentious title) didn’t make anything better. Satoru didn’t need help. What he needed was Suguru’s attention, but if he couldn’t have that, he’d settle for yours.
“Oh, I’m sure, puppy.” His fist tightened around the base of his cock. Suguru wasn’t home – just a quick errand, he’d claimed, it should only take a few minutes, as if that was an excuse for leaving his favorite pet and dutiful companion at home – and Satoru barely waited for the apartment door to lock before luring you into the kitchen and telling you to get on your knees while he leaned against the counter, Suguru’s forgotten phone well within reach. Currently, you were kneeling in front of him, your hands balled on your thighs and your gaze almost cross-eyed as you struggled to see what he was holding to your lips. He thought you would’ve had a little more experience, but your first owner must’ve been the sheltering type. Part of him was annoyed that he’d have to pick up the slack and teach you something so basic, but overall, he was pleased to know that it would be a long, long time before you got enough practice in to replace Satoru as Suguru’s favorite playmate. “I’ve just been feeling a little stressed out lately,” he said, drawing it out each word, giving your stupid canine brain time to process what he was saying. “This’ll really help me relax. You wanna help me out, right?”
Automatically, you nodded – your pressed frown instantly replaced with an eager smile. Your ears perked up, your concerns completely forgotten when presented with the chance to do what you’d been trained for. “Please, ‘toru,” you whined, and he fought the urge to cringe at the way Suguru’s nickname sounded coming out of your mouth. “Please let me help!”
It was almost cute, just how desperate you were to make him happy.
Almost.
He forced himself to smile back at you, using one hand to scratch at the base of your ears while the other jerked lazily over his cock. He was already hard, thankfully, and at the added stimulation, the sight of you practically drooling on yourself to get a taste of his cock, he felt himself twitch – thick pearls of arousal beginning to bead at the tip and drip onto your chin. You didn’t seem to care, to notice. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find out that his was the first cock you’d ever seen. “Can you open your mouth for me? Big n’ wide, just like I showed you.”
Like the trained dog you were, you obeyed immediately – letting your mouth fall open and looking up at him with the same bright, expectant eyes that must’ve won Suguru over, when he first picked you up. His hips wanted to buck forward, to bury him to the hilt in your newly available hole, but he held himself back, told himself he had to ease you into it no matter how little you’d done to earn his oh so generously given kindness. In the end, he settled for swiping his thumb over the flushed tip before resting it gingerly on your splayed-out tongue. It only took a second for you to stiffen, to jerk back. You didn’t cough or sputter, but your mouth snapped shut, your expression taking on a certain unease. Satoru fought the urge to bare his teeth. “Is something wrong, puppy?”
“I’m sorry, it’s just—” You closed your mouth, looking away. “It tasted weird. It was bitter, n’ stuff.
He sighed, rolling his eyes. “Look, if you still don’t think you can handle this, I can just tell Suguru you decided you’d rather go back to the pound—”
“Please don’t!” Your hands shot to his thighs. “I’ll be good, I promise, and I can’t— I don’t want to go back to the—”
“Then open your mouth.” After a second, you straightened, your lips parting and your jaw going slack. Still, he feigned reluctance, narrowing his eyes into a half-hearted glare as he raked his fingers through your hair and tugged half-heartedly, just hard enough to draw out a strained whimper. “And this time, don’t fuck everything up just because it ‘tastes weird’. If you do that again, I’ll have to tell Suguru you were being a bad dog.”
Your ears drooped, your tail falling slack against the tiled floor. Still, you managed not to jerk back as he slid his cock into your open mouth, slotting his tip against the velvety inside of your cheek. He could see you wince, your shoulders rising as you fought the urge to pull away, but even if you’d tried, the fingers knotted in your hair would’ve kept you rooted to the floor as he rolled his hips and thrust shallowly into the hollow of your cheek. Your tongue was smooth compared to his and wide compared to Suguru’s, and he could tell you were fighting not to move, not to explore the unknown factor trespassing inside of you. With a slight hum, he took pity on you – hazy lust having softened his previous annoyance. “It’s okay, puppy – you can lick, if you want to.” There was a moment of hesitation, then the broad flat against your tongue against the underside of his cock, tracing the shape of a prominent vein Suguru tended to favor, too. He shuddered, but told himself it was only out of reflex. You got lucky, that was all. “Mind your teeth. I’m takin’ you back to the shelter myself if you bite down.”
You tried to nod, but gave up quickly. Instead, your acknowledgment came in the form of your tongue curling around his tip, licking at the arousal dripping down his shaft, doing your best to lap at the shaft of his cock despite the awkward angle. Saliva and pre-cum pooled in the corners of your mouth, but you didn’t dare tilt your head back, didn’t dare swallow - keeping your mouth wide open as he drew back just far enough to pull out of your cheek and aim, instead, towards the back of your throat. You flinched, your dull nails scraping against his thighs, but it was easy to drown out the dull spark of pain as your tight throat fluttered and tightened around his cock, as the hand still wrapped around his base fell away in favor of joining its twin on the back of your skull and pulling you flush against his crotch. This time, you couldn’t stop yourself from reacting – your body lurching against his legs as you gagged, as you tried to wretch yourself out of his hold, but he was too far gone to so much as consider letting you go. “Stupid mutt,” he mumbled, cupping the back of your skull while you fought not to suffocate on his length. “Don’t even know how to breathe right. Can’t do anything on your own, huh, can you?”
Your only response was a choked inhale, a string of incoherent gibberish half-muffled by his cock. Drool wasn’t the only thing dripping down your face, now – tears were rolling down your cheeks, fat and hot, drawing thick trails through the mess of cum and spit. Your tongue wasn’t moving, anymore, but he didn’t care – your mouth was warm and soft and fuckable enough to make up for your lack of skill. You were beating at his legs, too, your little hands made even smaller when compared to him, and for a second, he could be convinced that you were a little cute. Not cute enough to deserve as much of Suguru’s attention as you got, obviously, but cute.
His cock pulsed against the convulsing walls of your throat, and he cursed under his breath. You let out a pained whine as he drew back, pulling out of you entirely. Without his support, you threatened to buckle over, to collapse into yourself, but he held you up with one hand while the other pumped over his cock too quickly, too roughly not to tip him over the edge. It was all you could do to stare up at him with those big, watery eyes as he let out an airy moan, as he painted thick ropes of white across your messy face, as he left you stained and teary-eyed and covered with his cum.
You blinked once, then twice, but didn’t react, too out of it to complain or cry out or question why his lips quirked up into a small grin, his eyes taking on a dreamy, half-lidded sort of lull. “Good puppy,” he cooed, his heart skipping a beat as he heard your formerly stagnant tail begin to sweep lazily over the tile floor. He reached for Suguru’s phone as he went on, keeping his tone light, delicate. “Can you smile for me, too? A big, wide smile – to show how happy you are that you get to stay with me n’ Suguru.”
It took a second, but eventually, you managed a stilted nod. It was shaky, at first, more of a mangled frown than anything, but with a little love and patience, you found your footing, your lips splitting apart into a wide, beaming smile – as if you were the happiest, most pathetic puppy in the world.
God.
You were fucking adorable.
Your smile barely faltered as the camera shuttered, as Satoru’s hand fell back to your head and pet over your disheveled hair – a treat for his well-behaved mutt. He could feel you melting into his palm, but his eyes were fixed on his picture of your smiling face and, with a few taps of his thumb, Suguru’s shiny new lockscreen.
Maybe, once Suguru got a good look at your pretty face, he’d think twice before deciding to be such a neglectful owner again.
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8n53 · 2 years ago
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i should have sent high school AU as a prompt to blackbright week they have the cutest "disciplinarian committee member and delinquent" shit going on and nobody draws it
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gogogodzilla · 1 year ago
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day 31, sex pollen
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peeta mellark x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, dubcon, unprotected sex, fuck or die, semi-public sex, slight dirty talk, reader gets sad at the end, multiple orgasms, dedicated to @omgbrcat hope you enjoy it bestie kinktober ☠︎︎ main masterlist ☠︎︎ read on ao3
You didn’t think you’d ever run so fast and wildly in your life. Well, except for last year when you were fighting for your life and running away from everything that was trying to kill you. 
Peeta was a few steps behind you, slower and stumbling a bit due to his prosthetic leg. You threw a glance over your shoulder every few seconds, just to make sure he was still there with you. 
The various leaves and foliage of the jungle hit you as you ran. You hardly even notice as the foliage shifts from a  normal lush green to unnatural shades of pinks, purples, and blues. You did notice, however, when one of the plants shoots a dusty substance directly in your face as you run past it. 
You lost your footing as you attempted to wipe the dust off your face. Peeta came up beside you, arms outstretched and ready to pick you up. 
“Don’t!” you shouted as you slowly stood, slightly relieved that your face didn’t immediately burn off. “I don’t want it to affect you, whatever it is.”
Your ears strained as you tried to discern if the mutts were still on your tail. 
“Do you hear them?” Peeta questioned, echoing your thoughts. “Y’know since you have a Capitol-engineered ear and all.”  
You huffed out a laugh as you listened. You couldn’t hear the familiar rustle of leaves, and you relaxed slightly. You knew never to get too comfortable in the arena, but your lungs were burning and you needed to get this stuff off your face. 
“Do you still have the spile?” you asked, attempting to avoid the way your body felt like it was on fire and your heart was pounding in your chest. 
“Yeah,” he breathed, as he began to hammer it into the trunk of a nearby tree. You prayed that the trees wouldn’t be as hazardous as whatever was covering your face. You watched as he stuck a finger under the liquid flowing out of the spile, checking to make sure it was safe. 
He wrapped his hand around your elbow and it felt like fire bloomed under his touch. He was gentle as always as he guided your face under the water. You dragged your hands over your face as you washed off the dusty substance that had covered it. You attempted to rid yourself of the inferno burning under your skin. 
Your cheeks flushed as you pulled away from the stream of water. Peeta’s touch was fleeting but your entire body ached for him. It was a strange feeling, unlike anything you’d ever felt before. 
Your heartbeat pounded in your chest with every shaky breath you took. You hunched over, attempting to calm yourself. A thin sheen of sweat begins to cover your skin, and your eyebrows furrowed in something akin to pain. 
You heard Peeta call your name, but the only thing you could get out was a whimper. He was on you within seconds, gripping your shoulders and shaking you slightly. You scrambled out of his touch, thinking clearly enough to know that you needed to get away from him. 
“What’s wrong?” he questioned, voice desperate and eyes frantically searching over your form. You hurriedly crawled away from him. 
You shook your head, as you pressed your back against a tree. “I— I don’t know. I feel hot,” you breathed, conflicted between clenching your thighs together and spreading them for him. 
 Peeta kneeled in front of you, eyes soft, “How can I help?” 
You remembered before you’d entered your first Games together how he didn’t want the Game to change him. You were thankful that he was still the same sweet boy you entered the arena with. He was different in some ways, of course. No one left the arena unscathed, but who he was at his core was unwavering. 
Your vision was becoming hazy, and a dull ache where you’d never felt it before emerged. You let out a low groan as the heat blistering down to your bones becomes almost unbearable.
Peeta crawled between your legs and cupped your face. You hissed at his touch, leaning into him. You gripped onto his sides, nails digging into the soft flesh through his suit. His touch felt heavenly against your skin, a ravenous hunger for more filled you to the very brim.
“Touch me,” you whimpered out, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “Please, Peeta.”
He swiped a thumb across your cheek, and your grip on his tightened. You tugged him closer, your limbs seeming to move on their own. You made a small, strangled sound in the back of your throat. 
Peeta’s lips were hesitant against yours as he kissed you. He was always so gentle with you, never wanting to cross a line. You moaned against him, and swiped your tongue across his bottom lip, desperate to taste him. 
You wrapped your arms around his back and clawed at the zipper to his suit, tugging it down as much as you could. He sucked in a breath as you yanked his suit off of his shoulders, practically manhandling him. You were giving the Capitol exactly what they wanted, but you didn’t care. 
The ache deep between your legs was growing with every moment, and your body temperature rose along with it. Your kisses increased in desperation until you were pleading against Peeta’s lips and writhing against him. 
“It’s okay,” Peeta soothed, reaching behind you to unzip your suit. “I’ll help, it’s okay.” 
You hurriedly peeled your suit off your shoulders, letting out a sigh as Peeta’s fingers trailed over the newly exposed skin. Your cheeks flushed as he leaned down to press open-mouthed kisses against the column of your neck and your chest. 
You ran your hands over the smooth expanse of his chest, the feeling doing little to quell the electricity crackling under your skin. His tongue circled your nipple, eliciting a breathy whine from you. 
You raked your hands through the hair at the nape of his tugged and tugged on the strands. A groan vibrated in his throat, and his hands splayed against your ribcage. 
“Peeta,” you whined as he kneaded your other breast and you clenched your thighs around him. 
You couldn’t stand not having him for a second longer and you hooked your arms under his, gripping him tightly as you rolled to the side. You landed on top of him, straddling him. You panted as you finally got a good look at him. His eyes were half-lidded and he was flushed and breathing heavily. His pupils were blown wide as he looked up at you. 
Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, “Is it getting to you, too?” 
He nodded, attempting to steady his breathing. You stood and shimmied out of your suit, tossing it to the side. You leaned down to hook your fingers into the waistband of Peeta’s suit and looked up at him through your lashes. The quick dip of his head was all you needed, and you were practically ripping his suit off of him. It wasn’t the first time you’d taken off Peeta’s pants, but you flushed all the same. You were too focused on saving his life last time to worry about being embarrassed. 
You were back on him faster than your hazy mind could process, your hips moving on their own accord as you ground against his thigh. His length pressed against your belly, warm and unbelievably hard, as you dragged your hips against him. 
You reached down and stroked him in time with each rut of your hips. He let out a mix between a whimper and a sigh as you did. Your movements quickened, and you buried your face in the crook of Peeta’s neck. With each twist of your wrist around his cock, he was letting out noises that had heat pooling in your belly. His tip was leaking, and you loved the sound he made when you ran your thumb over it. 
Peeta’s fingertips dug into the plush of your hips so hard you didn’t doubt that he’d leave bruises. The animalistic part of you that had taken control wanted him to mark you in every way possible. Your slick had begun to cover Peeta’s thigh, allowing you to easily grind against him.
Your strokes became more erratic as your pace against Peeta’s cock increased. You both were so wound tight you might burst. You’d never been so aware of your pulse pounding in your ears, and you came with a strangled cry. Tears coated your cheeks as warmth encased your entire being and you spasmed against Peeta. You had a moment of respite as you thought the plant’s effects had subsided, but the drive to ravish him returned with a vengeance. 
He followed you off the precipice soon after you calmed down, back arched and head thrown back as his release covered your knuckles. The fog that surrounded your head cleared just enough for you to realize just how pretty Peeta looked like this. If you were going to die, you didn’t think you’d get a better view. 
Your pace slowed but Peeta was still hard in your hand. The boiling heat still lingered under your skin, and your pulse quickened. You wondered if that was the Capitol’s goal; to make you so fucked out you succumb to exhaustion or burn you from the inside out. 
Peeta looked utterly exhausted and a coil of guilt settled in the pit of your stomach. 
“Just one more, please,” you begged, trailing kisses down his neck. He nodded against you, and you could’ve cried from the relief that washed over you.
You lifted your hips and aligned the tip of his cock with your entrance, gasping at the sensation. Peeta’s hips bucked up unconsciously, shoving himself deeper inside you. A pained hiss left you, and Peeta cried out a thousand apologies, his iron grip returning to your hips once more. 
“I’m sorry. You’re just— Fuck… So— tight,” he babbled out, brown eyes glazing over. You pressed a featherlight kiss against his cheek, thoughts too consumed with his cock inside you to reassure him properly. You slowly lowered yourself onto him, sighing when your hips were finally flush. Peeta had his eyes screwed shut, gritting his jaw in thinly veiled restraint. 
Your hands settled on his shoulders as you began to rock your hips against his. Peeta rested his head against the tree as you rode him, releasing little pants and moans with every thrust of your hips. 
With each moment that passed your movements became more erratic, desperate to reach your peak once again. Peeta’s hands frantically roamed your body, grasping and kneading whatever inch of skin he could reach. 
He reached a hand between the two of you and drew hurried circles around your clit. He lifted his hips to meet yours, jutting himself deeper inside you. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled your ears, and you prayed you were the only ones trapped in this portion of the arena. 
It took no time for your release to hit you, practically knocking the wind out of you as you clenched around Peeta’s cock. Your vision went hazy, and for a moment you feared you’d pass out. 
Peeta finished with a few more rolls of your hips against his. He filled you to the brim, his release hot and steady coated your walls. 
Your vision cleared as you came down from your high. The fire within you had finally dissipated, and you breathed a sigh of relief. You felt exhaustion consume you as you slumped against Peeta. 
“I’m sorry,” you slurred out, clinging onto Peeta like your life depended on it. Your face screwed up and you felt your throat tightening. 
“It’s okay. You’re okay,” he rushed out, running his hands over your body, attempting to soothe you as quiet sobs wracked your body. Your last thought before drowsiness overtook you was of how much you didn’t deserve Peeta Mellark. 
Your heart pounded as you awoke, adrenaline spiking as you heard someone calling your name. You jumped to your feet, eyes frantically searching your surroundings. Your movements caused Peeta to stir and his eyes shot open, the same panic gracing his features. 
You tugged on your suit, grimacing at the dried cum that covered your inner thighs. You tossed Peeta his suit and pulled him to his feet. You didn’t know how long you’d been out, and the thought turned your stomach. Someone could’ve easily come along and killed you both. 
You grabbed your weapon while Peeta removed the spile from the tree. 
“Let’s just hope our sponsors enjoyed the show,” you joked, immediately cringing as soon as the words left your mouth. 
The corners of Peeta’s mouth quirked up, “I’m sure they did.”
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xneens · 5 months ago
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wasted summer - one
series masterlist
watching jj like someone else hurts, thankfully, you finds comfort in rafe’s arms … and his bed.
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Music boomed in your ears, the party in full swing as you made your way upstairs, away from the guys smoking weed and girls dancing to Kanye West. Using a guest room on the third floor, you opened the window and crawled out onto the roof. With a drink in hand, you watched partygoers jump into the Cameron's pool, observing the party from afar.
Taking a sip of the cheap vodka JJ had gotten, you glanced at the blond, a frown on your lips as you saw him sweep Kiara off her feet, jumping into the pool with her. Kiara likes JJ, that much you know is true after she had drunkenly confessed during a girl's night out. Bitterness grew inside you as you watched him respond to her subtle flirting, praying desperately he didn't return her feelings but your own.
You look away, downing the rest of the cup before throwing it off the roof in hopes of it hitting someone. Hopefully either one of them, but they were still playing in the pool. Together.
"Littering on my property? Harsh." a voice behind you murmurs as he crawls out the window, sitting beside you on the roof. Rafe grins at you, bringing the blunt to his lips.
You roll your eyes, keeping them on him instead of the heartwrenching scene below you. "Like you haven't littered at my house before. Payback."
"So vengeful ever since you started hanging out with those Pogues." Rafe chuckles, offering you a hit off his blunt. You decline it with a wave of your hand and he shrugs, taking another hit off of it.
Glancing back at JJ and Kiara, you can't help the pang in your heart as you watch them play in the pool, splashing each other with large smiles on their faces. Sighing, you look back at Rafe, suddenly wishing you'd brought a bottle of Titos with you.
Rafe arches a brow, a smirk dancing on his lips. "What're you doing up here, anyways? Shouldn't you be hanging out with the Scooby gang?"
Not wanting to be in his eyesight, you lay down on the roof, staring at the night sky, the lights from the party polluting the starry sky. "I needed a break."
"From those dirty Pogues?"
You smack his arm, causing the blond to burst out laughing. "Stop bullying my friends."
"Bullying works," replied Rafe, shifting to mirror your position. He groans softly as he lays back on the roof. "Remember Agatha Haynes? She no longer smokes fifty cigarettes a day after you called her Hagatha."
A snort escapes your lips before you can stop it. You shake your head. "God, I was a bitch."
"You still are." Rafe dodges another smack, a teasing grin slapped across his face. "Still the spoiled, snobby, selfish girl you were. You're just better at hiding it now."
"Oh, and the hits just keep coming." You groan out dramatically, smiling back at him. "I'll have you know that I am very empathetic and care about other people's feelings.”
The blond shakes his head, taking a hit from his blunt. "Is that why you're hiding out from your gang of mutts? Because you care about them so much you don't want them to know you're suffering in silence?"
"I wish you'd suffer in silence."
"Woah, don't violate the thirteenth-year truce," Rafe replies, drawing out a reluctant smile from you.
Rafe was ... Rafe. Born with a golden spoon in his mouth, acted like every rich kid from Figure 8, only worse, and knew how to get his way. The only fight the blond had lost was to a coked-out tourist to who Rafe ironically sold the coke.
Most people didn't see that he could be nice when he wanted to. You always held it above everyone that Rafe Cameron had a soft spot for you, even if it only came from being his little sister's best friend. Still, it was nice to be one of the few people not to be on the receiving side of his hostility, a side Sarah was constantly on.
It was a weird friendship built on a truce made by four and six-year-olds. During your fourth birthday party, Rafe had gifted you with a promise to never be the cause of your tears and you promised to never cut holes in his tighty whities again.
After a few minutes of silence, Rafe turns his head to look at you, exhaling out smoke. "Seriously, though, why are you hiding?"
"Not hiding, taking a break." You correct him, refusing to meet his eyes. He wasn't completely wrong, you were hiding from your friends, specifically two of them.
"That's such bullshit." scoffs the man next to you, rolling his eyes at your words. "Tell me."
You groan, covering your face with your hands in hopes of hiding your embarrassment from him. "No. It's nothing."
"Tell me."
"Stop being nosy."
Rafe snickers, putting his blunt out before grabbing your hands and pulling them away from your face gently. Eyes filled with serenity, a sight only you and Wheezie ever got to see. "Tell me, you know I won't tell anyone."
Your playful pout makes his grin widen. "You'll make fun of me."
"Me? After our truce?" asks Rafe, throwing his head back in laughter. "Never."
After contemplating whether to lie to his face, you sigh, rubbing your temples. It couldn't hurt to tell him, it's not as if he ever told anyone stuff you've told him before. "Kiara likes JJ. And ... I think he likes her back."
An awkward moment of silence hangs in the air before Rafe inhales sharply. "Oh. I didn't realize you wanted to fuck the help."
"Rafe." your tone made him throw his hands up in surrender. Staring back up at the sky, you scrunched your nose. "I kind of like him. It just sucks a little seeing them so touchy with each other and flirting in my face. If they become official, then I'll literally be the only person in the friend group without anyone. I'll be a seventh wheel and that's so fucking pathetic."
"You're getting ahead of yourself," says Rafe, scoffing. "My sister found someone who puts up with her shit, you'll have an easier chance finding a boyfriend. If you don't like anyone, I'll volunteer."
You can't help but roll your eyes at his not-so-comforting words. "Thanks. You really know how to make a girl feel better."
The blond chortled, sitting up. "I'm serious. Anyone who isn't blind can see you're clearly much better than those idiots you hang around. The girls you hung out with were annoying as hell but at least they were better than those group of Pogues."
"How very Kook of you to say," you mutter back, not taking Rafe's words earnestly. Shifting, you sit up, eyes flickering back to the pool, immediately spotting Sarah and John B., Pope and Cleo, and JJ and Kiara still playing with each other. "I don't know, they probably don't care I'm not with them right now."
You could feel Rafe's eyes burning a hole in your face, his lack of insults to throw at your friends making you uncomfortable. Anything was better than silence when it came to Rafe. Silence meant he was thinking and you almost always never liked what he was thinking of.
He stands up before holding his hand out, gesturing for you to take it. "Come on, let's get you something to drink. It'll cheer you up."
You immediately take his hand, standing up. "Don't need to convince me."
"None of that cheap shit you've been drinking. My dad has some expensive whiskey he keeps in his study." Rafe adds, climbing back through the window with you right behind him. He doesn't let go of your hand, even after you climb back inside.
Rafe leads you through the swarm of people in the hall, heading towards the second floor for his dad's office. He pushes a guy away from the door, unlocking it and holding it open for you to enter. You step across the threshold, glancing around Ward's office as Rafe shuts the door behind him.
You'd been in Ward's office a handful of times, most times with Sarah and one time with Ward himself when you had skinned your knee riding a bike and he bandaged it up. Being inside the warm-lit room with Rafe felt strange and slightly tense.
Plopping down on the big leather couch, you watch Rafe walk towards the desk, raiding his father's desk drawer until he finds the big bottle of GlenDronach. He grabs two glasses, sitting down beside you as he pours the amber liquid.
You scrunch your nose at the smell. "God, I can smell the hangover."
Rafe smirks, pouring too much into both of the glasses, capping the bottle back up. "Nah, if anything this will help you sleep. It goes down smooth."
You take the glass from Rafe, wincing at the strong musk of the whiskey before downing half the bottle like a shot, immediately coughing after swallowing it down. Rafe's brows furrowed as he watched you slam the half-filled glass down on the coffee table, exasperated. "That did not go down smooth."
"It's sipping whiskey, you don't drink it like a shot of vodka." the blond clarifies, judgment and confusion in his tone. "Who the hell takes a shot of whiskey?"
Glaring at him, you cough out the burning in your throat. "Get me a Sprite, motherfucker."
An amused smirk dances on his lips as he stands up and opens Ward's mini fridge, pulling out a cold can of Sprite. He opens it before handing it to you, sitting back down. "I just witnessed a crime."
You gurgle half the can, soothing your burning throat before glaring at him. "I don't like the taste of alcohol, I just drink it to get drunk. Besides, people who actually enjoy the taste are psychopaths."
"You never miss the chance to tell me I am," Rafe replies, grinning as he takes a more moderate sip of his whiskey. He makes an approving expression, swirling the liquid around the glass.
"You can have mine. I hate it." You push the glass in front of Rafe, leaning back on the couch. Rafe sipped his glass of single malt whiskey while you drank a can of Sprite. "Worse thing I've swallowed. And there's competition."
Rafe makes a face at that, shaking his head. "Please, no details of how the help was in your mouth."
Smacking his arm caused a drop of his whiskey to spill over the side. "Stop calling my friends the help, you snarky asshole."
The blond gives you a look, setting his glass back down on the table. "Maybank helped me carry my golf clubs at the club last week. I can't think of a better title for him. It's in the name."
You roll your eyes, downing the rest of your drink. Rafe could carry his own golf clubs so you knew he sought out JJ's help specifically to taunt and mock him. "If I get the lifeguard job, are you gonna start calling me the help?"
His eyes softened slightly, head tilting towards yours. "No, of course not. You're far better than anyone else, even if you decide to get an unnecessary job.”
"Even better than you?" you arch a brow, watching his lips quirk up in a genuine smile.
"Always," replies Rafe.
Heat pools in your stomach, the whiskey's delayed effect. You glance away from Rafe's sharp eyes. Clearing your throat, you shift on the couch, making yourself more comfortable. "It's not unnecessary, by the way. The job. It looks good on my transcripts."
"Hm, still going to Charleston?"
You shrug, staring at the insurmountably large portrait of Denmark Tanney in Ward's office. "I don't know. My parents want me to, and I'll get into it but I don't wanna be so close to home, you know?"
Rafe's brows furrowed, a frown tugging on his lips. "Where are you thinking?"
"Either New Orleans or London," you answer, pulling a laugh out of Rafe. "Yeah, a wide range of possibilities for me."
"You don't wanna go to Charleston?" questioned Rafe, his eyes never leaving yours. A look of displeasure passes his face. "It's not that close, seven hours."
You make a face, shaking your head. "Seven hours is too close for me.”
The blond scoffed, leaning forward to sip his whiskey.
A smirk tugged at your lips as you observed him. Teasingly, you ask. "What, you gonna miss me when I leave?"
"I thought it was obvious," Rafe replied, downing the rest of his glass. He shifts on the couch, placing his arms on top of it, giving you a sardonic grin. "I think Charleston is far enough."
Rolling your eyes for the millionth time that night, you lay your head back, sighing. "You can come visit me anytime. Just don't bring anyone. Especially not Topper or Kelce."
"Ah, I wouldn't wanna walk in on you and your victims." jokes Rafe, patting your thigh softly. "Wouldn't be the first."
You laugh, winking at him. "Maybe you'll be my next victim."
Rafe raises a brow, leaning back slightly as he stares at you. "Don't tease me, I have no self-control when it comes to you."
"Yes, I think that was clear when you sent Tom Schnitzel to the ER for trying to drug me," you reply, inhaling sharply at the memory. You were positive you still had Tom's blood stained onto the white top from that night. "Thanks for that, by the way. I don't think I properly thanked you for that."
Rafe waves it away with a hand, standing. "Don't worry about it. I needed to get it out that night, anyway. Come on, I have something to show you."
Curious, you follow Rafe out of the office, walking down the hall to his room. He opens the door, motioning for you to enter. Immediately, you plop down on his bed, laying out on the soft mattress as he closes the door behind him. You watch him walk towards his dresser, turning around with a small jewelry box, a bow sitting on the top.
"What's that for?" you ask, taking the box from Rafe, and inspecting it.
He sits on the edge of the bed, eyes watching you fiddle with the box. "Your birthday present."
"It's not for another month."
Rafe shrugs, grinning. "Consider it your early birthday present, then. Come on, open it."
Tilting your head, you lift the top from it, the diamond tennis bracelet sparkling as soon as the light hits it. You gasped softly, taking the bracelet from its mold, watching in fascination as the diamonds danced in the light.
"Holy shit, Rafe," you mutter, inspecting the bracelet. "What the fuck? How much was it?"
The blond chuckled, taking the bracelet and unlocking the hook. He gestured for you to put your wrist out. "Real diamonds. None of that lab-grown bullshit. Don't worry, the cost didn't even dent my account."
You give him a look, allowing him to put the bracelet on your wrist and shake it as soon as it's on. "I told you before that I don't want expensive gifts from my friends. Just my parents."
"I'd like to think I'm more than one of your obnoxious friends," replies Rafe, causing you to give him a look. He snickered, throwing his hands up in surrender. "Last time, I swear."
"Highly doubt that." you turn your attention back to the bracelet, smirking at how it looked against your skin. "Thank you, though. It's really pretty."
Rafe stares at you, blue eyes watching you admire his present. "Yeah, beautiful."
You glance up at him, cheeks flushed from the whiskey and drinks prior. Heat pools in your stomach as your eyes meet his. Clearing your throat, you tuck your hair behind your ear. "Best present I got this year."
He smirks, laying his head down on a pillow, watching as you mirror his movement. "Yeah? Do I get to be your favorite until I piss you off?"
"Of course. I give it five minutes." you tease, grinning when Rafe smacks you with a pillow softly. You dodge his second hit, rolling closer to him, your arm pressed against his. "I was kidding! You'll be my favorite forever."
"That's more like it," Rafe says, a satisfied grin slapped across his face.
You groan softly, rolling onto your side to face the blond, eyes closing. The party was still going on downstairs, the loud thumping of the music heard two stories up. Your mind briefly flickered to what was happening with JJ and Kiara until Rafe's fingers ghosted over your side.
"I swear to god if you're gonna tickle me, Cameron," you grumble, eyes still closed, feeling his fingers roam around until they hit your stomach.
Rafe chuckles quietly, fingers stroking the ribcage tattoo you had gotten with Sarah. "When did you get this?"
"A week ago." you giggle as he runs his fingers up, touching your neck. Your eyes snapped open and you immediately slap his hand away, your brand new bracelet swinging slightly from the movement. "Rafe. You know how ticklish I am."
"Sorry," he smirks, tone unapologetic. His hand drifts to your hips, fingers playing with your cutoff shorts. "Wouldn't want a repeat of the Jenga incident."
Your nose scrunches at that, remembering the night you spent at the ER. "It was an accident."
"Still sticking to that story?"
"You moved your head."
"You threw a glass at my head." Rafe corrected, a smile tugging the corner of his lips up.
Scowling at him, you shake your head. "No, I threw it at the wall behind you. You moved your head at the last second and had to get five stitches."
"If you weren't so fucking competitive ..." Rafe teases, trailing off.
You bite your tongue, letting the subject go with great difficulty, but managing to not bite back. Closing your eyes again, you let your muscles alleviate. "Hm. Whatever."
You both lay in silence for a few minutes, the alcohol in your system and Rafe's soft bed allowing you to relax despite the loud music creeping through the walls. Despite feeling his eyes on you, you felt your body intense, the bed cradling you.
Rafe's hand drifts slowly up your hip, fingertips softly brushing against the sliver of bare stomach before slipping slightly under the hem of your top. Your eyes flutter up at the movement, watching as his thumb draws circles on your skin.
Goosebumps arise, and you suddenly realize how close he is, not even a foot away. His eyes flickered to your lips, his tongue peeking out to wetten his own. Your breath gets caught in your throat, his face somehow closer now.
Maybe it was the alcohol you've consumed trying to forget your own despair or an excuse to get your mind off JJ and Kiara, but you watched as Rafe brought his lips to yours, not pulling back when the taste of whiskey invades your mouth.
A hand caressing your cheek, Rafe rolled over on top of you, his elbows holding up his weight as he kissed you. His tongue sought entry to your mouth, biting your bottom lip. You gasped slightly at the feel, allowing him to deepen the kiss. You melt into his touch, your lips parting slightly as Rafe's tongue sweeps in.
Rafe breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down your neck, leaving a string of soft kisses along your collarbone. Tilting your head back, you give him better access, running your hands through his hair, a soft content sigh escaping your lips.
He nips at your collarbones before sucking a mark into your skin, just right above your breast causing you to mewl at the touch, your hands drifting to his shoulders, freshly manicured nails digging into his skin. You meet his eyes, his ocean blues now darkened like the water during a storm.
Something comes over your body, seeing Rafe in a new light. Suddenly needy and impatient, your hands tugged at the hem of Rafe's black polo, pleading silently for him to take it off. Taking your hint, he sits up, taking it off in one swift move, tossing it on the floor.
You'd never admit it, not even to Rafe–especially to Rafe, but you'd always loved his abs. The definition of the, so toned, tanned, and delectable. He may have been your friend, but you weren't blind to his looks, and definitely how his abs looked when he flexed them.
As your fingers traced the defined line down his stomach, Rafe's hands slid under your top until the tips of his fingers met the fabric of your bikini top. Needing more, a lot more, you sit up, ridding yourself of the offensive clothing. You heard Rafe groan, pushing you back onto the bed, eyes roaming the sight of the hot pink bikini top you still wore, the top so little it was hardly covering your nipples.
"So fucking beautiful," he murmured, reaching out and pulling off the top quickly, the thin string breaking at the force, your tits spilling out. You gasped, nipples hardening in the cold air. Rafe groaned at the sight, hands cupping your breasts, his breath hitting your nipples. "Fucking incredible."
You arched your back, moaning softly as his tongue wettens a nipple before taking it into his mouth. His teeth nibble it, sucking and teasing the hard bud while his fingers play with the other, rolling it between his fingers. Rafe pinches it gently, looking up at you with a smirk when you mewl.
Running your hands over Rafe's back, you feel the warmth and firmness of his muscles, wetness pooling at the thought of kissing every single inch of his torso. Before he could take the other nipple into his mouth, you pull his lips back to yours, wrapping an arm around his neck as a hand runs down his back, nails scratching his spine.
Rafe's hand moves down your sides, fingers playing with the button of your shorts. Pulling back from the kiss, he unbuttoned your shorts, slowly–and agonizingly–sliding them off. The cutoffs pile onto his shirt on the floor.
You know Rafe's experienced, so are you, but you swore he almost looked nervous as he stared down at you, his hands slightly shaky as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your matching pink thong. Those join the discarded clothing on his bedroom floor.
He looks like a man starved as his eyes focus on your bare cunt, hungry and almost animalistic as he leans closer to your glistening pussy, nose nearly touching the clit. "You're already so wet."
Instinctively, you spread your legs wider, hands grasping the sheets as his finger leisurely dips into your wet pussy, your lips parting slightly. His thumb touches your clit, rubbing it gently. You groan, hips bucking at the feel, needing more. "Fuck."
Rafe smirks, pushing a finger into your cunt, watching as your face contorted in pleasure. He adds a second before you could come down from the small high. "Look at you, so needy and desperate."
Before you could think of a retort, he leans down to replace his thumb with his tongue, licking and sucking at your clit as his fingers continue to thrust inside you, gaining speed. The sight of Rafe's head between your legs, his tongue flicking your clit was so erotic, the vision enough for you to get wetter. You throw your head back, your fingers tangling in Rafe's hair as you pull his head closer to your dripping pussy, a moan filling the room.
His fingers hit that spot inside you, causing a surprise whimper from your lips to escape. Rafe pauses, glancing up at you, pride in his eyes before he doubles his efforts, his fingers curling to reach that spot. He sucks your clit, nibbling it when you tug his hair.
"Rafe," you moan, arching your back. You push his head deeper between your thighs, pussy clenching around his fingers, so close to falling off. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
"That's right, say my fucking name when you cum on my fingers," Rafe grunted, his fingers plunging in and out of your soaking wet cunt. He licks your clit, staring up as you come closer.
A dripping mess, you buck your hips up as Rafe continues his relentless actions on your pussy, moans of pleasure filling the room. His free hand moves up your torso, cupping your breast before rolling your nipples between his fingers.
You lose it when he pinches it harshly, moaning loudly as you come undone, pussy clenching around his fingers, throbbing. You whimper out his name, your hand gripping his hair. "Fuck!"
Rafe laps it all up, replacing his fingers with his tongue, hands holding your legs open as you attempt to close them, your clit sensitive. He runs his tongue along your pussy, lapping up your juices, groaning at the taste, unable to pull himself away.
He licks his lips, staring possessively at your cunt before looking up at you with a proud smile. "You taste so fucking good."
He then proves it to you, lips meeting yours in a kiss. You taste yourself on him as you kiss him back, lips moving against each other. As you come down from the high, you roll him over, straddling his torso. You move your lips to his neck, marking it until you kiss down his chest. Meeting his eyes, you run your tongue down his abs, kissing every individual one.
You move to straddle his legs, quickly unbuttoning his pants, much opposite of his agonizingly slow approach. Rafe lifts his hips, helping you take off his jeans, sitting up to pull you in for another kiss. Giggling, you push him back onto the bed, your fingers sliding underneath the band of his boxers.
You bite your lip as you take out his cock, your hand wrapping around it immediately. The size of it made your mouth water, licking your lips in anticipation as you stroked it slowly causing Rafe to groan. With an approving hum, you lick the tip, meeting Rafe's hungry gaze.
Smirking, you run your tongue along the length of it, pulling back when Rafe bucks his hips up, glaring at you for teasing him. Chuckling, you decide to end the shortlived torture, taking his cock into your mouth, your warm, wet lips wrapping around his cock.
He groans, fingers pulling at your hair, guiding your movements, and urging you to take more of him. The sight of your soft, pink lips wrapped around his cock was something he'd never forget. "That's it, baby. Suck my dick like a good slut."
You felt your pussy clench at his words, growing wetter as you suck him off, eagerly bobbing your head up and down his dick. Pre-cum drips onto your tongue and you savor the taste, moaning around his cock, Rafe grunting at the feel of the vibrations.
Not wanting him to cum down your throat, you stop, slapping his cock on your tongue, smiling innocently when he narrows his eyes at you. He looked so hot staring down at you, chest heaving as he panted lightly, his knuckles white as he tried to restrain himself. His cock bobbed up as if begging for attention.
Shifting, you move up his body until your pussy is inches from Rafe's cock. You tap your clit with his cock, whimpering quietly, your clit still sensitive. Rafe's hands drift to your hips and you smack them away, giving him a smile as you rub your cunt against his dick, wanting to tease him just a little bit more.
He grits out your name, hands by his sides as he clenches them into a fist. "Stop teasing.”
"Or what?" you arch a brow, smirking as you let the head of his cock slip into your wet cunt. Temporarily speechless, Rafe lets out a guttural groan as you sink down unhurriedly, watching as your pussy wraps around his cock until he bottoms out. The size of his cock stretches you out, your walls fluttering around him as you rock slowly. "Holy shit."
"Jesus Christ." Rafe growls, his hands cupping your tits as you begin to bounce on his dick. He squeezes them, watching as your pussy swallows his cock like a vice. "So tight. Made just for me."
You moan at his words, leaning back and placing your hands on his thigh, giving him a view men would kill for. You ride his cock, throwing your head back at the feel of his cock stretching you out. Rafe reaches down, slapping your ass as you ride him, and you mewl at the gentle pain. "Rafe."
Rafe's thumb touches your clit, rubbing it as he watches you ride his cock, his lips parted slightly like he is seeing one of the seven wonders of the world. His eyes dart between his cock sliding in and out of your cunt and your face contorts with pleasure, moaning every time you slide down his cock.
"Fucking gorgeous." Rafe whispers, thrusting up into you, his pupils dilated when you whimper loudly. He sits up, his hands gripping your waist, moving his face in front of your bouncing tits, taking a nipple into his mouth, swirling it with his tongue. "So much better than I imagined, baby."
You place your hands on his shoulders, pussy clenching around his cock. You moan into his ear, kissing his neck as he thrusts up into you, your legs trembling as you draw closer to cumming. "Rafe, I'm gonna cum."
The words cause him to double his efforts, gripping your waist so tight it would leave bruises, his cock filling you up as he fucks you fast. His lips drag across your neck, leaving a mark as his cock brushes against your cervix. "Cum for me. Cum all over my cock like a fucking slut."
You cry out as you come, your cunt tightening around his cock. You bite Rafe's shoulder, muffling your ungodly loud moan. "Fuck, fuck!”
He pulls you back in for a kiss, spilling his seed into your awaiting pussy. Rafe slows to a stop, groaning against your lips, his cock nuzzled deep inside you. Rolling you on your back, he doesn't separate from you, keeping his dick warm as he kisses you languidly. Taking a breath, he breaks the kiss, staring down at you, a small smile gracing his lips. "You alright, sweetheart?"
Tired and content, you return his smile, pussy throbbing around his softening cock. You nod, eyes heavy. "Yeah, you?"
Rafe chuckles quietly. "Yeah, me too."
As your eyes drift close, you feel Rafe press a kiss to your forehead.
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beenbaanbuun · 2 months ago
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guard dog pt.2 w/ jeong yunho
idk if this will become a series (it absolutely will, i love him). if you have any asks about this little series then i’ll be more than happy to answer them 🥰
warnings - yandere!yunho, hybrid!yunho, role reversal, yunho calls reader puppy, talk of murder, talk of living in a bad neighbourhood, allusions to masturbation, choking
pt1
you were under the impression that by wearing yunho’s jumper, it might piss him off just a little bit
but as you walk into the living room where he lays, limbs slung across the couch that he deemed beneath him no more than a few nights ago, you’re shocked to see a smirk playing on his lips
if you had much more on beneath it, you might have torn it from your body and thrown it at his smug face, but you wouldn’t want to give the mutt the satisfaction of seeing your tits
“going somewhere, puppy?” it’s been three long, arduous days and he still hasn’t dropped the nickname
you’re this close to getting your name tattooed in hold across your forehead; maybe then he won’t forget it
“the shop,” you walk over to grab your boots; heavy and intimidating and perfect for kicking any creep that gets too close, “i want a snack.”
“there’s plenty of food in the fridge,” he deadpans as you make your way over to the sofa
he doesn’t move, not even when you glare so hard at his legs that he can practically feel you burning holes in them
annoying prick
you settle for sitting right on the edge of the cushion, just far enough on to keep yourself from toppling to the floor as you slip your shoes onto your feet
“i don’t want the food in the fridge,” you say simply as you tie your laces, “if i wanted the food in the fridge, i’d eat the food in the fridge.”
a few seconds of silence pass by, and you’re almost positive that he spends them rolling his eyes behind your back
“it’s dangerous to go out at this time on your own,” as if that’s not the most obvious thing in the world
luckily for you, you have the safe streets memorised, and you carry your keys tight in your fist as a make-shift shiv
yunho seems to forget that you’ve lived here far longer than he has; you’re far too used to how dangerous it can be when twilight hits
“nothing stopping you from coming with,” you suggest, although you hope to everything that is holy that he says no
“i’m not getting changed out of my pyjamas, puppy,” a sigh of relief escapes your mouth as he gives you what want
“well, i’m going either way,” you insist, and he nods in understanding, expecting no less of you
you’re not ashamed to admit that you’re stubborn, maybe even sometimes to the point of being a brat
it’s just so fun to see your victim’s get riled up as you push each of their buttons over and over again
part of you hoped you would’ve learned yunho’s buttons by now, enough to get a little rise out of him, at least
but as he looks you up and down with nothing but neutrality in his eyes, you know that yet again you’ve failed
perhaps you’ve met your match, at long last; the person who can turn each and every jab around and aim them back at you
as your annoyance rises within you, making your bones buzz and your heart clench tight in your chest, you understand just how true that is
and you’re fucking stuck with him
“have fun getting murdered down some dark alley, then,” he just waves you off, only serving to piss you off more
“you’re a prick,” you spit in retaliation
your footsteps are heavy as you head to the door, eyes already trained on the little table you stash your keys on for safekeeping
the little silver stash normally takes pride of place, sitting pretty in the centre so as to not go unseen whenever you’re in a rush to leave
but the table is empty, and you know you won’t have put your keys anywhere else
but then there’s a tinkle behind you; the gentle sound of metal upon metal drawing your attention away from where the keys should be to where they actually are
the mutt’s black ears twitch atop his head as he gently fingers the bundle
you watch as the light catches, reflecting back on his stupidly handsome face in dots of shimmering light
fortunately, his prettiness only makes him that much easier to hate; of course the bastard is a prick when he looks like that
“yunho, give me my keys,” your voice is stern, tired of whatever game it is he’s playing already
“don’t want to,” he says, amusement laced through his words
the keys clink louder this time as he takes them in his fist before slipping them into his sweatpants without another word
“yunh—”
“let’s play a game, puppy,” he cuts you off, “if you fetch the keys like a good pup, i’ll let you go to the store. that sound good?”
the smile he wears is wicked, all teeth like he’s a snarling beast
he might look human, for the most part, but the sharp canines that dig into his bottom lip are a harsh reminder that he’s closer to that beast than he seems
but you’re not in the business of losing, and you certainly refuse to give up without a fair fight
if he wants to play dirty, then dirty is what he’ll get
it takes a mere few seconds for you to cross the room back to the couch, shimmying round it until you’re standing in front of him, legs lined up with his crotch
you sink to your knees, not daring to look at his face despite hearing the deep chuckle he gives you in response
“which pocket?” you spit, words sharp and impatient
“work it out, pup.”
you jump at the feeling of a warm hand petting the top of your head, fingers curling around an invisible pair of dog ears to match his own
you try your best to ignore everything about the situation; the game of fetch, the way you’re knelt at his feet, the way his hand absentmindedly plays with your hair
everything about it screams puppy, and that is not your fucking name
your fingers dip into his left pocket, feeling around for a moment or two before coming out empty handed
you don’t even allow a second to tick my before you delve your fingers into his other pocket and feel around in a similar way
but you can’t feel anything in there either, and it stumps you
yunho hums as you draw your fingers back, finally shifting your unamused gaze back to his face
“you know what i think?” he starts, and you nod, desperate for a hint of some kind, “i think you’d be so pretty with a collar wrapped around that lovely little neck of yours.”
it takes you off guard a little, not at all what you were expecting to drop from his mouth
and yet somehow, as the words sink in a little, you find yourself rather unsurprised
you shoot him the harshest glare you can muster before pushing his hand firmly away from your head
“well i don’t have a collar around my nec—”
the warm palm you pushed from your skull not a second prior, now lies on your throat
you can feel it, gentle yet firm as it holds you in place and pushes your protests away
“are you sure about that, puppy?” he growls; a sound that travels straight to your core, “from where i’m sitting, it looks like you do.”
it takes everything in you to shuffle back, just far enough away that his hand slips free of your neck and falls flat against the leather of your sofa
you stand on shaky legs, taking a few steps towards the bathroom as you do everything in your power to not look at him
if you do, you’re not quite sure what will happen
but your avoidant eyes miss the way he slips the keys free of his waistband and tosses them onto the coffee table, satisfied enough in his win to know he doesn’t have to hide them anymore
“i’m going for a shower,” you say with a shaky voice, slipping out of his sight as he gives you a hum of affirmation
it looks like the shower head will come in handy tonight
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jaxie101 · 1 year ago
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the hunger games has been my roman empire since i read when it when i was 10 and here are all of my smaller empires bc this has always been my favourite series ever:
the tributes being treated to a life of luxury both as a “last meal” sort of thing and as a way to make them more vulnerable for the games. keeping them well fed before the games so the starvation hits harder
peeta repeatedly calling himself a mutt after katniss does :(
katniss’ ptsd
katniss being such an unreliable narrator
when cato realised he’s just as much of a toy as the rest of the kids
when gale says he should’ve volunteered in peeta’s place. NOT for peeta, not to save him the trauma, the injuries or his torture, and not to save katniss and to be there for her, PURELY bc he knew that getting hurt would get her attention.
GALE GETTING MAD AT KATNISS FOR KISSING SOMEONE TO STAY ALIVE. EVEN 10 YEAR OLD ME WAS LIKE ??
peeta’s “real or not real” and how easily katniss accepts it as his way of recovery
how perfect katniss’ character was. i was a little girl and i wanted to be exactly like her when i grew up. she wasn’t the cliche “doesn’t need anyone accepts this specific guy that will always save her” she saved peeta, and some times peeta saves her
probably the overdramatic english lit nerd in me but katniss’ hair going from intricate braids to messy ponytails
(tw sex assault) in the books katniss was terrified that peeta was going to be r&ped, for some reason that’s always stuck with me
what happened to finnick
how well written and realistic the books were. peeta loses his leg to the infection, katniss loses her hearing in one ear, finnick suffers from extreme ptsd and it shows in district 13, peeta not being an easy fix. he still suffers years later, but he slowly pieces himself back together. Johanna’s anger, people often don’t like the fact that ptsd DOES make you angry, haymitch’s backstory and effie’s growth.
the mutt’s have the dead kids eyes in the first games
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quarterlifekitty · 13 days ago
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Promethean
fuckboy!Soap x Shy!Reader x Ghost (college!au) p.2 here’s part 1
Uhh warning soap isn’t in this chapter and reader isn’t acting very shy rn lol
Simon managed to drag you, shocked and still on shaky legs, into his surprisingly clean car and across town to a little cafe. The guy with eye bags behind the counter starts making his order as soon as he comes in the door— must be a regular.
At the counter he points to a couple of items in the display case, before prompting you— you stutter out your go-to, and Simon whips out a beat-up debit card before you can think to pull out your wallet.
The largest size of earl grey almost looks normal in his large hand, a plate of pastries in his other mitt. You grab your own drink and follow where he tilts his head in gesture.
When you sit, he pushes the plate towards you. Like he’s dropping a fresh kill at your doorstep—a courting gift. Eat. Be provided for, sensitive doe. You pick up a danish, if only to ease the clench of his fist on the table. He pulls the black surgical mask down to sip his tea in a way that’s almost hilariously delicate given his permanent scowl.
You couldn’t have sat in silence for more than 10 minutes. But it feels like a lot longer.
“Simon. What are we doing here?” You probe quietly. Saying his name when you’ve never actually been introduced to each other feels wrong. Like you’ve stolen a piece of him that he hasn’t given freely.
“He never takes you out,” he grunts. As if that explains anything.
“It’s not… what we have isn’t like that.”
——
Simon chews on your overly diplomatic response for a minute. That’s what it must be, chewing— why else would he grind his teeth together when his tongue is still wet with his favorite soothing beverage?
You’re kind. Kinder than the mutt deserves.
“But you want it to be.” He says it with an almost biblical level of finality. Your pastry making the plate clink against the table as you drop it back down.
“What would you know about what I want?”
“You’re an easy read. S’how y’got yourself in this situation. Soap’s not exactly a rocket scientist when it comes to chattin’ up birds, you’re jus’ an open book.”
Simon shamelessly stares at your lips as they quirk in anger— so unused to vitriol. It’s gorgeous.
“So he’s using me. I know. Is that what this was about? Taking me on a pity date to let me down gently? Or did you just wanna see if you could have a go as well?”
Seeing you like this. It’s something else. He’s seen you mope around so many times, silently begging for crumbs that will never be tossed your way. It’s even harder to pull his gaze from you, now that you’re hissing. He wants to dig his teeth into your heart shoulder and rip out the bruise Johnny left you with.
Soap is his best friend.
“He’s a dickhead. You don’t need him. You’ll find something better.”
Simon has never been what he would call “something better”. Not in any sense. But this might be the first time he’s wanted to be.
“I won’t,” you say with the lower half of your face hidden by the sipping of your drink. As if it’s quenched your fire, and all that leaves you is vapor. “I’m not… the type.”
He gets it. Really, he does. He’s not the type either— or so he’s thought. You’re making him wonder if he’s imagined that about himself— the same way you’ve clearly imagined it about yourself.
“What’s the rest of your day look like?”
“…Nothing set in stone.” The not that it’s any of your fucking business goes unspoken, but is plain to see in the air between you.
“Lemme take you around. On a date. Be mine for today. If y’hate it, I’ll drop you back at yours and the next time you come round, I’ll mind my business and keep the door closed.” Well, that’s the most you’ve ever heard him say in one go. And it begs a question.
“What happens if I like it? You’ll fuck me in a different room of the same frat house?” Your unimpressed look makes him feel ravenous. She-wolf is threatening to turn her eyes from the display. Rejection. Not an option. “Or maybe you’ll ask me to go steady,” you huff under your breath like it’s a bad joke.
“If y’like it, then you’ll stay mine, and y’won’t fuckin’ want for anything. You’re supposed to be worshipped, not begging for scraps at a mutt’s door.”
He really didn’t mean to say it like that. He meant to bite his tongue. He’s trying not to think of how hot it would be if his intensity scared you into pissing yourself. He’s trying not to let himself show through the lines. It’s not working. Any of it.
The venomous bile that spills from behind his teeth reminds him that his eloquence is just one of many reasons why he’s single. Why he should be muzzled instead of kept. He doesn’t know why he’s taking it upon himself to do this. Selfishness, maybe. There’s plenty of better men he could’ve put up to the task, easy. The man who wants to feel blood on the back of his throat makes a terrible savior.
He feels like he can see your pupils dilate. You pick up your danish again and take a bite. You hold it out for him to try. It’s a test. You don’t think someone with eyes like his can handle doing cutesy, saccharine things. Like what couples do. That must be it.
He tries not to think of his teeth going past the flakey flesh of the pastry and sinking into your fingers. When his tongue meets the butter between the layers, he tries not to think of the salt sweet flavor of your sweat and tears. A seed from the blackberry jam gets thoughtlessly crushed between his molars— he hopes the bitterness will suddenly wake him up and he won’t be a beast crying for love at the heart of the world anymore.
It doesn’t.
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