#that I get a little double chin when opening my mouth

[smokedcapybara]

Everyone in my life for years: you’re gonna miss how fast your metabolism is now when it slows and you start putting on weight faster

Me at 24+, after reaching and passing my target weight: Look at this gut!!! My butt jiggles!!! These thighs are two feet around!!! Hehehe )) double chin!!! And I’m still gaining!!! Very excited!!!

[luveline]

𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐚𝐳, 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐝 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

Eddie has a staring problem that you barely notice, though you share an aching, awful crush. One of you has to bend first, and it’s not who you’d expect. fem, 5k 

ditzy-ish reader, pining eddie, mutual pining, confessions, first kisses, fluff and hugging, idiots in love, mild states of undress

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

It’s a day fit for a funeral in Hawkins. Rain hammers his bedroom window like hailstones, plinking against the frame, condensation running down the panes in thick rivulets he soaks up with an old t-shirt. 

It’s supposed to be spring time. Green grass, flowers, a gentle humming sun to warm the back of his neck while he sits out on the couch on the porch, a hand-rolled cigarette between his fingers, the tip shimmering with heat. 

But the rain pours. He’s cleaned his room for the first time in a month, at least, and his back aches in the best way as he lays down amongst fresh sheets. His room feels strange when it’s organised, but he doesn’t mind. He pictures the state of it through a second pair of eyes. This is a boy who cares about things, who takes care of them, who could take care of me, too. 

Rain again rackets on the metal roof above. He and Wayne keep a couple hundred bucks stashed for the day the roof flies straight off —they take turns hiding it, because cars break down and groceries get more expensive every year, but god will they need it, and so they safeguard it well. 

He syphoned a little of the money recently with Wayne’s support. It was for a good cause. 

“Jesus,” Eddie murmurs to himself, not tired but feeling dull as the clouds outside eat the remaining sun. 

It’s depressing to be poor, and to lose a day trying to hide the evidence of an entire life in a small room. He could sleep a hundred years. 

He’s just finished pulling the sheets over his shoulder when somebody knocks on the front door. Wayne opens it three rooms away, the sound of the rain doubled. 

He gives a startling shout, “Ed! Your girl!” 

Eddie topples out of bed. Doesn’t mean to, foot caught in the bottom of the sheets and stuck as he scrambles to slide out of the mess. He’s begged Wayne not to call you that when you’re within earshot, but Wayne’s a mean (kind) old bastard (middle aged dad) who wants Eddie dead (happy, and in love). 

“Come on in, girl. You’re soaking.” 

“It’s raining.” 

“It’s pouring down. Did you walk here?” 

“Took my bike. Thought I’d get struck by lightning in the car.” 

“How’d you figure?” 

Eddie goes to grab the door handle and spins on his heel, staggering onto his bed and up against the wall, where a mirrored tray once used by Dio himself for rolling hangs from the wall. He checks his face in the polished surface, his warped mouth and nose, too small eyes, and swears to himself that one day he’ll get a real mirror with a fully-functioning reflective surface. 

Then he hops down off of the bed, causing a reverberation he knows traverses the entirety of the trailer floor. Eddie snatches a rare clean towel from his laundry chair and speeds down the hall. 

“Hello,” he says, more casual than he feels to find you unexpectedly in his house. “You’re soaked.” 

You give a sweet smile. “It’s raining out, did you not know?” 

Your hair is dripping, water racing down the curves of your face to collect at your chin. Eddie can see the smudges of your makeup where it’s washing off as he wraps a towel around you, kohl on your cheeks, eyelashes turned to half-diamonds and sticky-looking. You grin at being covered, taking the towel from his fingers before he can dab you dry. 

“Why didn’t you just call me?”’

“I can never remember if your phone number ends in three or four.” 

“Seven. I wrote it down for you a hundred times.” 

You rub your eyes and spread all manner of glitter and shadow over your skin. You wipe your neck and the glitter spreads like an alien rash. 

When you talk next, you shiver, “I lost it a hundred times, sorry. Is it okay that I'm here?” 

Wayne, who’s been watching with a distinct sense of amusement from the couch, lets out a chesty laugh. “Honey, it’s always okay that you’re here on my account. And it’s my house.” 

“It’s fine.” Eddie turns your shoulder so he can mouth over it without being caught. Asshole. 

Another laugh follows. Eddie would cut each of his fingers from his hand and then his hand from his wrist if it were something Wayne needed him to do, but that doesn’t make him any less of an opportunistic asshole. If there’s a way to fuck with Eddie, he tends to try it. He loves Eddie with all the tenacity of a father who loves his son, but Wayne got infected with little bitch disease or something and Eddie can’t cure it. 

“Can I please wash my face? I didn’t expect to get soaked.” 

“Didn’t you?” He regrets his flippancy quickly, leading you down the hall. “You could take a shower. What do you think?” 

You’ve never showered here, but Eddie’s trying to, you know, date you. Romance you, get to cherish you, however anyone wants to say it. And it’s not a war of attrition, just a natural escalation of sharing, or a minimising of boundaries. 

No, that’s pervy, isn’t it? 

“I mean–” He starts to correct himself. 

You interrupt with your answer, “Yes, please, do you think I could? But I don’t have anything to wear.”

“I have your purple hoodie in my room, and there’s gotta be a pair of sweatpants here that fit you,” he says. 

They’ve got a whole bunch of clothes here that floated in from somewhere else, Eddie’s other friends or stuff they’ve bought by mistake. He’s sure he can find something.

“You have my hoodie?” you ask, black kohl spreading across the towel as you wipe your cheek. 

Eddie only smelled it one time. When he’d realised you left it in his van he brought it in and folded it, waiting for the next time he’d see you to give it back, but that night he’d been getting out of the shower wondering if he could call you or if that was too soon, and your hoodie had been right there. So he stood there in his pyjama pants with his wet hair and he didn’t think about picking your hoodie up, he just did, and when he pressed it to his face it still smelled of your perfume. 

He put it back and felt like a loser for days.

“It’s in my closet, you left it in the van Monday,” he explains quickly, nudging you through the doorway of the bathroom. 

The Munson bathroom is teeny tiny but not unnavigable. There’s a shower pressed to the far wall that could squeeze in two people, their toilet to the right, a sink basin opposite that with a medicine cabinet and just enough room for a dirty laundry box that’s always, always full. 

Eddie opens the shower and turns it on. “It takes a while to get really hot but then it’s not hot for long, sorry. There’s my shampoo if you want it, and soap, and body wash. Sorry, none of it is super girly.” 

“Sorry sorry,” you say, pretending to hit him in the stomach. “What’s with all the sorries, handsome? I can’t wait to smell like a boy.” 

The way you say it. Eddie doesn’t know what it is, but it’s why he’s crazy about you. 

Probably shouldn’t tell you that as you're taking off your jacket, though. 

“I’ll be right back,” he says. 

Eddie heads out of the bathroom to their skinny linen cabinet hidden in the hallway. He grabs the last two towels from the middle shelf and takes pause, fabric starchy in his hands. Just be normal, he thinks, a pep talk from Eddie to Eddie. She hangs out with you all the time for a reason. She held your hand at the movies. 

Eddie’s in better spirits when he remembers that. Your hand in his, your ring pushing his ring further down his finger, your cheek touching his shoulder as you’d leaned in and asked if he wanted some of your popcorn. 

He opens the door without thinking, shower pattering against the perspex wall, your legs crossing tightly as he enters, turning yourself away from him.

“Woah!” you say, laughing.

“Holy crap.” The image of your red underwear immediately stamps itself into his mind as he pulls the door shut between you. They were really cute, red and white gingham, showcasing just the slightest curve of your– “I told you I was coming back!” 

“I thought you’d knock!” you laugh. “Sorry I flashed you. At least I had my shirt on.” 

At least, he thinks wryly, shoving his arm through the gap in the door, heavy towels pulling at his fingers. His head’s about to snap off, it's turned so far away from the door’s opening. “Here.” 

“If you wanna see me naked so bad you can just ask,” you tease. 

“Take the towels, loser.” 

You take the towels and he closes the door, preventing any more accidental creeping, and giving himself a reprieve. Gingham underwear. Wavy lettuce edgings kissing your skin. 

Holy fuck. Being a person is so lame, Eddie thinks. He wants to have a crush on you purely, and yet seeing the way you’d crossed your legs to hide from him, smiling, he can’t not think about kissing you —touching you. If he doesn’t get you laid out in his bed soon for some slow kissing he’s not gonna make it.

Eddie opens the strip vent above his window and prays it doesn’t flood his whole room. Clean, it doesn’t look half bad, he could bring you in here respectfully, you could stay the night without fearing for your life. 

You take a quick shower. He’s barely gotten over his nerves when you’re walking into his room, a towel around you, not a hint of shyness about you. 

“You didn’t bring me anything to wear,” you explain. 

Eddie just stares at you. 

“Eddie?” You wrap the towel tighter. “Come on, you’re staring at me.”

“Sorry.” His mouth is bone dry. 

“You have my hoodie, right? Just need some pants.” You cross your arm tightly across your chest. “I don’t usually notice when people are staring at me.”

“You aren’t usually naked in my room,” he says, genuinely and embarrassingly apologetic. 

“I’m not naked. Come on, please? Do I have to wait outside the door?” you ask with a laugh. 

Eddie stands up. Shakes his head hard, almost trips over himself trying to get to his dresser. He decides honesty will be best at this point, lest you think he has only one thing on his mind, “Listen, I’m sorry. I’m just in my head about something and I wasn’t expecting you to come out like that. It’s not right. You’re just… you’re really pretty.” 

“Thank you.” He can’t see you, sorting quickly through his middle drawer and all his miscellaneous pants for a pair he’s sure would fit, if he could just remember where it was. “What are you in your head about?” 

“What?” 

“Eddie, are you okay?” 

“No, no,” he moans, rubbing his face with his hand, ring scratching the bridge of his nose, “I’m not okay, princess, I’m overheating or something, Jesus Christ.” He finally lays eyes on the sweatpants he’d been thinking of, grabs your hoodie from the top shelf and drops them both at the end of the bed. “I’ll give you some privacy.” 

“I don’t have any underwear.” 

“And that’s something I can’t fix,” he says, leaving the room in a hurry. 

Eddie gets to the living room and keels over. His hair falls in his face, his shirt slides down his back. What the fuck is wrong with him? 

Wayne, sliding his shoes on in the recliner, gives a start. “What’s wrong?”

Eddie lifts his head, yanking hair from his face, the skin of his under eyes pulled down harshly. “Oh my god.”

Wayne wrinkles his nose. 

“No ones ever been such a pathetic excuse for a man before,” Eddie says. 

“Your dad’s in jail,” Wayne points out. “And not for the impressive stuff.”

“I’m pathetic.” 

“You’re fine. You’re not supposed to be not pathetic, you’re twenty.” 

“I’m twenty one.” 

“The extra year doesn’t mean much. I know you think you’re all grown up, but you’re still an idiot.” 

Wayne stands and shrugs on the jacket laying over the armrest. 

“Wait, where are you going?” 

“I thought you were definitely gonna ask her?” Wayne asks knowingly. That’s what Eddie told him, after all. “Next time I see her, Wayne, I’m asking her to go steady.” 

Eddie shakes his head. “You can’t leave.” 

“Eddie.” Wayne gestures for Eddie to stop slouching like some fiend from a bad horror. “Listen. I get that you’ve always been sort of… behind everyone, but that doesn’t mean you can’t do it. She likes you. She biked here in a hurricane.”

“What if she says no?” he asks. 

Truthfully, Eddie’s more scared of you saying yes. 

Wayne shrugs. “Girl like that’ll still be your friend after. It’ll be fine, okay? Do you need a hug before I go?” 

“No.” Eddie rubs his eyes some more, sore now from being touched. “Maybe.” 

Wayne crosses the room to give his shoulder a squeeze. “It will be fine. You’re great with rejection, Eds, but I have a good feeling about this one.” 

Eddie felt better about it, before he embarrassed himself staring at you. But Wayne’s right, even if Eddie’s read things wrong between you, he’s sure you’ll still want to be his friend. You and Eddie are the same kind of weird, though he’s more angry where you’re carefree. If everything goes wrong, you’ll probably just give an unnecessary apology and offer to braid his hair. Which will be torture, but Eddie’ll still say yes.

Wayne calls goodbye, and you shout, “Bye, Mr. Munson!” to which Wayne wiggles his eyebrows. 

“Get lost,” Eddie says. 

“Go make her a drink. I’ll see you later.” 

That’s not a bad idea. Eddie makes you a mix of orange and grapefruit juice with a couple of ice cubes and a plastic straw, your reaction predicted and then proved. 

“It’s a cocktail,” you say, pleased, sitting on the side of his bed. 

“It’s not a cocktail, just juice.” 

“Can I have some socks, please, Eddie?” 

Eddie passes you your drink, fingertips brushing. “Yeah. Anything else?” He pretends to be exhausted as he trudges back over to his dresser. 

You laugh and sip your drink. “No, I think you’re treating me quite well.” 

Eddie grabs a random pair and finally gets to sit down beside you, the dresser drawer left out, a spare sock fallen to the floor. You shuffle back into his pillows, propping your juice on his side table, and holding your hands out for the socks. Again, your fingertips touch his as he passes them to you. You seem to enjoy it, a smile lighting your face as you pull your knees up to put the socks on. 

“Thank you for waiting on me,” you say quietly. Not shyly, just quiet. 

“You’re welcome. Came all this way to see me, didn’t you?” He gives you a shove. You shuffle back further. “In the pouring rain.” 

“It felt important at the time.” 

“Yeah?” 

You get the socks on and don’t care about them once they're past your heels. Eddie does the honour of smoothing out the bands so that the elastic won’t dig into your skin, and when he’s done he can feel you looking at him heavily. You’re not one for continued eye contact, but you smile like you were waiting for it all day, like it’s a relief to see him. 

“Bad weather,” you say, slouching down. “I think I’m still wet on the inside.” 

“Gross,” Eddie says, pushing you over bodily to sit beside you. This isn’t new, he doesn’t need any nerves, and he’s grateful when they don’t come. “Here, I’ll pull the blanket over you.” 

“Can’t move,” you say, leaning back against the pillows.

Eddie stretches his legs out. You keep yours up, but you turn to his side, and before he can really make any sense of you, you’re dropping your face into his shoulder. 

“Are you still cold?” he asks, searching for the truth in your strange comment. 

You nod into his shoulder. “I’m freezing. The shower didn’t get very hot.” 

“Sorry,” he says, letting his cheek rest on your head. 

You lift your chin as he does it, his lashes pressed to your forehead, the two of you stuck together like two warped jigsaw pieces. You probably weren’t made to be together, but you make a nice picture, and you fit snugly now. That’s what Eddie thinks. 

This is the sort of moment that makes Eddie wanna ask you out. Maybe you’re just the best friend he’s ever had, but something about this closeness feels different. You wrap your arm around his stomach in a hug and he knows this is different. 

“It’s okay,” you say finally, sighing as you shift downward into his side, getting comfortable. 

“Please don’t bike here in the rain. It’s, like, torrential. You could actually get sick.” 

You feel warm where your body presses against his, but Eddie doubts that’ll make a difference if the cold already made you sick. The bike ride from your place to his isn't short. He covers your arm with his and tries to be your space heater, cheek sliding over your forehead. 

“Eddie…” You hug him with tenderness. Eddie’s reluctant to say cuddle, but it’s close. “This might be a surprise to you, but I think it’s worth the rain and the cold to see you. Especially when you do this.” 

“What am I doing?” 

“You’re rubbing my arm.” 

He hadn’t noticed his hand caressing up and down your arm where it rests on his stomach. 

“You make me feel amazing,” you say, dropping your face into his chest. 

That’s his last straw. Eddie gets both arms around you and cuddles you (it’s a cuddle, okay! he’s a loser!) to him, arms tight but not cruel. All this fuss and you’re finally laying on top of him. He decides he won’t ask you after all. He’s not that brave, and he doesn’t want this to end. 

Your legs fall onto him. You relax completely. Even after you shower he can smell your perfume. 

“You smell nice,” he murmurs. 

“It’s on my hoodie,” you murmur back. 

Right. Eddie should remember. 

“You make everything smell like you.” Even his van keeps your scent most days. 

“Too much?” 

“The right amount,” he says firmly. 

You lay on his chest for a while, just breathing. Eddie rubs your back, tells himself he will ask, actually, because he can’t imagine not getting to do this again. You might even stay over. He could live hours of this. He didn’t know having you lay on him could make him feel like this. 

He can’t believe you’ve never done it before. 

Rain pounds the window. Condensation drips down onto the sill. You let your legs stretch out flat and then manoeuvre to be laying half atop him, hoodie riding up your back. 

“Any warmer now?” he asks.

“Yeah, you’re warming me up.” You lavish in his arms for a moment, and then lift your face. “Oh, this is a bad angle.” 

“For me or you?” 

“For me, duh.” 

Eddie doesn’t think you could have a bad angle. He rubs at your upper arm as you start to shift. “You know, your bike has just as big a chance of getting hit by lightning as your car does. More, probably.” 

“You think so?” 

“It’s physics. So, please don’t do it again.” 

You hum. “Hm, should I risk getting struck by lightning, or spend the evening without you?” you murmur, your arm moving, moving slowly, your hand resting gently on the column of his neck. There’s something ironic in your voice, wry, but your eyes are warm. He’s paralysed. No one has ever spoken to him like you. “I think I’d rather get struck by lightning.” 

You stare at one another. He laughs. You join in, your thumb a pressure at his neck, and when you move up his chest to lean in, he isn’t expecting it. 

“We’re very close together,” you whisper. 

“Super close,” he whispers back. 

“…Eddie, can I ask you something?” Your eyes slip shut, your lips so close that something in him aches, just enough wit about him to cup your shoulders in his forearm. 

“Yeah.” 

He doesn’t sound half as calm as you do. 

“Would you… Do you think we could be official? Would you want that?” You tilt your head to the side. “Is that stupid?” 

“Official?” he asks, panicked, his eyes squeezed shut hard enough for a moment that they ache.

“Like, you’d be my boyfriend. I’d be your girlfriend. We’d be close like this all the time.” 

Eddie panics so hard he just says the first thing that comes into his head, “Like, we’d kiss?” 

“I hope so,” you say, your nose pressing against his, the tip to the side of his, and then against his nostril. The heat of your breath is hard to ignore. “What do you think?” 

What does Eddie think about it? 

He catches your lips in a slow kiss. Achingly slow, not even sure it’s a kiss until you reciprocate, and your fingers dig behind his neck to tease his hair. Your lips part against his, the heat of your tongue sudden and undeniable —Eddie didn’t know you had it in you. He squeezes you to him, attempting to crane his neck downward, reliant on your enthusiasm as you move up, as you use his neck to pull yourself closer. 

Your noses crush together, and it actually hurts. “Sorry,” he says, easing you back, “you okay?” 

“‘Nother kiss,” you say hopefully, distractedly. 

He can’t not give it to you. 

Your hand spreads flat against his chest and you kiss, you kiss, long and slow movements against him before turning your head to take it again. Eddie doesn’t always know what to do with himself, but he knows kissing, no matter what anybody might think about him, and he takes the lead. 

His hand screws into a fist against your hoodie, the slip of your back further exposed as you shiver into his mouth, a sound you shouldn’t make sweet on his tongue. 

You pull away, breath on his lips. “Wanted you to kiss me for so long,” you murmur. 

Eddie knows you’re not saying it to flirt, and that makes it worse. 

“I should’ve kissed you a long time ago,” he says roughly. 

“You wanted to?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, so much, I’m a loser about you–”

“I’m always a loser,” you interrupt, “but especially about you.” 

You scratch your fingers through his hair, encouraging his head down for another kiss. This one rougher but not rough, his arm slips finally behind your head where he’d needed it to be, hooking you in his elbow to keep you in one place. To kiss you soundly, without interruption. Your almost feverish ebbing inward is a dream, your nose rubbing up against his is a fantasy. 

His heart hammers and hammers at his ribs. 

You pull away to let him breathe. “You’re very excited,” you tease lightly. 

Eddie kisses you, breathless. He kisses you so much he’s surprised you allow it, but your thumb rubs his cheek, and he knows he’d been right all along. You want him like he wants you, with startling, mildly pathetic urgency. 

He feels like a fucking prince. Girl of his dreams in his lap, everything he wants, and he didn’t even have to ask. 

—

Eddie spends a week in bliss. You’re suddenly everywhere, all the time, attached to his hip or some other part of him, and he forgets for seven whole days that he bought you a ring. 

The rain dries up, the Munson emergency fund lives to die another day, and he remembers the ring only minutes before you’re knocking at his door. 

He trips over himself trying to answer it before Wayne, who’s taken to being as painfully embarrassing as is possible for one human being, can get it for him. 

“One day you’re gonna eat shit and break your nose,” Wayne says. 

Eddie yanks open the door. “Yeah, thanks. Hey, beautiful, what’s with the sunglasses?” 

You slide them down your nose. You’re a vision on his front step, not that you’d ever notice your own intrigue. “The sunglasses?” you ask, tucking them away. “What do you think they’re for? Three guesses.” 

He grabs your waist, leaning down out of the doorway so as to save Wayne the agony. “That’s smart,” he says, kissing you quickly in hello. “You’re funny. Need anything before we go?” 

“No, I’m okay. Hi, Mr. Munson!” you add.

“Hey, honey! How are you?” Wayne calls.

You look up into Eddie’s face with an obvious delight. “I’ve never been better.” 

Eddie grins back. 

He waves a quick goodbye to Wayne and then he’s out the door. You grab his wrist and practically dance him to the car, where you offer your keys, and he deigns to drive. From there it’s smooth sailing, familiarity with a better twist, Eddie driving with the windows down and your hands twined on your thigh. Things haven’t changed much since you asked him to go steady, there’s just a whole lot more of this. Touching, kissing, no weird guilt about staring. 

As it turns out, you’re as eager to be laid out in his bed as he is to lay you out. He’s never wanted to kiss you more, and now he’s allowed. 

“Eyes on the road.” 

He leans over to kiss your cheek. The sun has warmed your skin, and his kiss makes you smile. You look pretty no matter the weather. 

“Before we get there, I have something to give you.” He takes his hand from yours to slide the box from his pocket. He holds it up. “But you can only have it if you swear you’ll call me tonight before bed. No excuses. You know exactly what number to call.” 

“Ends with a three,” you say, nodding. 

He sighs. “No, it does not.” 

“I’m kidding! Two one nine seven, I have now committed it to memory.” 

Eddie pays attention to the road, though it’s clear and long heading out of the trailer park and into town. “That deserves a gift.” 

You’re back in your glitters today, a skirt to enjoy the fine weather, a button shirt with a cute triangle collar, you’re lovely as ever, if a tad much for some. Not Eddie. He loves the dark clothes, the tinkling bracelets, the fun way you smile like everything he says is a secret between him and you. People stare wherever you and Eddie go, but as long your arm is sewn through his he couldn’t care less. 

“A gift,” you say, smiling in your way, and taking the box politely. “I don’t think I deserve it for just remembering your number.” 

“You deserved it for less. It’s not much. You can pay me back in three or four amazing kisses. Right here.” He points to the tight juncture beneath his jaw. 

You attempt to lean over and kiss him immediately. He pushes you back, laughing, worsened by your own breathless laughter as you steal one exactly where he’d tapped. 

You settle back down, Eddie’s hand dropping kindly to your knee. “I wonder what it is,” you say. 

“Then open it.” 

“I am!” You pop the box open, it’s springing hinge snapping into place. “Oh, woah. Woah. Where did you get this?” 

It’s a slim ring, with a weirdly shaped band of quality metal around some cheaper but not totally worthless gemstones, of which there are three different colours: a topaz orange, a lime green, and a pinky-red ruby colour centre stage. They have nice cuts. It’s strange as you are, and he knew when he saw it you’d have to have it. 

“If I put it on my marriage finger, are we engaged?” you tease. 

“That one would be way heavier,” he says, giving you a squeeze. 

You slide it onto your middle finger and hold your hand up in the sunshine. It fits in with your other ring nicely, though it is, to Eddie’s pride, far prettier. 

He has half a mind to pull over and kiss each knuckle, but he’s trying to be less dramatic about you. It’s not working. 

“Thank you, Eddie. I love it.” 

“Best boyfriend ever?” he asks hopefully. 

To his mild fear but better pleasure, you climb up onto the console to press three quick kisses to his cheek and jaw, your hand under his ear holding him in tender place. “Best boyfriend ever. Even if you stare too much.” 

“How am I supposed to not?” he asks, with more weight than he’s intended. 

You speak matter of factly for the first time in your life. “I am going to cause an accident,” you promise, attempting to kiss his nose. “A bad one.” 

“Sit down, please.” He lets you kiss his nose, and then jabs you in the side. “Sit down, oh my god! That’s not funny, you’re so pretty I will total your car.” 

“Now who’s not funny?” 

You both laugh at the same time, the unfiltered, un-cute cackling of two idiots with the same sense of humour, and the same wealth of ridiculous honeymoon love. 

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

thank you so much for reading!! I hope you enjoyed. if you did, please consider reblogging or commenting!! thanks very much <3

[alg3a]

auspicious (pt. 2)

jayce x f!reader x viktor / jayvik x reader

3k, MDNI, no use of y/n

description: After confronting the boys and teasing them for long enough, you finally get what you want.

warnings: nsfw content, full complete total smut, MMF threesome, f!receiving oral, double penetration, all characters are sort of switches i suppose, double creampies! hooray!

a/n: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE ON PART ONE!!! it was entirely unexpected, but i loved hearing that all of you enjoyed it. it was my first ever tumblr fic, but there will be plenty more and my request box is VERY open.

Something in their eyes turns dark when you utter those words. Not utter, exactly, they were more of a proclamation. Maybe it was your confidence that threw them off so intensely, but how could you not be confident in a dress like that, after two glasses of wine, and knowing that the two most attractive men you’ve ever laid eyes on have been wanting you for months?

It made all the late nights and restless mornings worth it to be sprawled out on their cozy lab couch wearing practically just a strip of fabric, watching them eye you like dogs.

“What is it with you two? Do I need to write you a formal invitation?”

Surprisingly, Viktor moves first. When he gets to the couch he drops his cane as if it was a crumb off his coffeecake. Then Jayce follows, filling the spot behind you as you face Viktor on the other end of the couch. Jayce’s calloused hands wrap around your waist, feeling every inch of the delicate skin exposed by your low hanging dress. Viktor’s delicate hands cup your jaw.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting this,” Viktor says, his voice raspier than you’ve ever heard before.

“Hey–” Jayce squeezes your hips firmly and pulls you back into his chest. His fingers trace the long slit up the side of your leg and brush the fabric to the side, exposing your thighs. “How long we have been waiting for this.”

“Did you ever talk about me–about this–with each other?” You have a million dirty questions to ask them now that you have them at your disposal, and this seems like a good place to start.

“It’s hard not to,” Jayce says. “Every time you would come into the lab in that little skirt…”

“Things as small as lingering touches when passing tools…” Viktor added, his mouth dipping low to kiss your exposed collarbone.

“Anytime you did anything vaguely exciting… let’s just say the thought of sharing you is very familiar to us.” Jayce’s low, rough voice mutters against your neck. He punctuates his sentence with a nip at the soft skin as Viktor pulls away from your clavicle.

“Would you like that?” Viktor asks, his fingers delicately wrapping a strand of your hair around his long, slim finger. “For Jayce and I to share you?”

And suddenly they’ve monopolized this interaction. So much for all that confidence–thrown out the window as soon as they show a sliver of dominance.

“Speak up,” Jayce says, grasping your chin firmly and lifting it so that your face is flush with Viktor’s.

“Yes,” you finally utter. “I’d like that very very much.”

“Good,” Viktor says, his accent thicker and his voice raspy.

His thumb traces along your jaw until his hand seats itself on the back of your neck. His fingers slide into your hair. You’d never realized how big his hands were until then, as one wrapped around the back of your head, tugging softly at your hair as Jayce rubbed your bottom lip with his thumb, pulling gently downward to part your pretty lips. They really were fantastic partners, aiding each other in research. And there you were, their perfect little assistant, providing them with something to study.

You don’t realize how heavily your heart is thudding against your ribs until Viktor’s lips are exploring yours and your heart is the loudest thing in the room, second only to your little whimper as you realize Jayce is doing some exploring of his own. His calloused fingers brush your bare thigh beneath the slit of your dress and dip between your legs as his chest presses against your back. With the hand that once rested on your chin, he pulls the apex of the slit higher, so that your lacy black panties are exposed to the cold air of the lab.

“Fuck,” Jayce mutters at the sight of them. You feel as his hardening cock twitches against your back, eliciting a moan from your mouth that vibrates against Viktor’s lips.

You whine as he pulls away from the kiss to take a look at what Jayce has discovered.

“Don’t everyone look at once,” you joke, but your breathlessness and heaving chest don’t exactly contribute to the punchline.

Viktor smiles for a moment, but his eyes drift to your shoulder. More specifically, the fallen strap of the dress which leaves your shoulder exposed.

“You’ve been in this dress all night,” Viktor says, smiling as he looks at Jayce over your shoulder. “I can’t imagine it’s very comfortable…”

“Do you often imagine how uncomfortable my clothes are, Viktor?” You ask, returning his smirk as Jayce slips the remaining strap off of your other shoulder.

“All the time,” he says, taking the next step off of Jayce’s hands and sliding the bodice off your dress downward, then letting Viktor return to pushing down the remnants of the dress so that it pools around your ankles.

“And much more, it would seem…or sound, rather.” Jayce laughs in a low tone, the vibrations of his chest against the bare skin of your back causing your stomach to flutter. “Loudest housemate ever.”

“Oh really?” You ask, mouth agape as Viktor slides off the couch with a smirk on his face, bringing your legs with him. He pivots you so that you’re sitting with your back against the cushions now, and he’s kneeling between your parted legs. Only your cute little panties separate his face from your best kept secret.

“Hearsay,” Viktor rolls his eyes as he kisses up your thigh. “And from the man who doesn’t even close his door when he thinks of you…”

“I close it. The walls are just…thin.” Jayce replies, placing his hand on your chin once more to turn your face to his. “And I can’t help how much noise I make.” His voice lowers and his eyes flutter shut, preparing for his turn with your lips.

Jayce is a much rougher kisser than Viktor. Handsier, too. His hand slides up your waist, grazing your chest, before finally landing on the expanse of your tilted back neck. If he choked you to death right now, you could die happy. But he won’t. He just squeezes gently as his tongue explores your mouth, his grip a reminder that he’s been wanting you for three long months. You can imagine how it must have felt for both of the boys to have you within arms reach, pushed away only by their own semblances of professionality. Actually–you can taste it, too. And you can feel it as two fingers press against your clothed cunt and you let a moan echo into Jayce’s persistent mouth.

Viktor lifts a leg onto his shoulder, and you feel two of his calloused fingertips pulling aside the lace of your panties. With only the tip of Viktor’s tongue, you’re a whining mess against Jayce’s. Jayce pulls away from you with a condescending laugh, wanting to catch a glimpse of Viktor’s meal.

“Fuck,” he rasps. “I never thought my lab partner and I would have our tongues on the same girl at the same time.”

“Don’t lie,” Viktor looks up, a grin on his glistening lips. “I’ve heard my name through those thin walls, too.”

“Shut up,” Jayce groans, and guides Viktor’s head back to your cunt. “Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

“Y-yes,” you manage to utter, miraculously. You’d heard Jayce tease Viktor time after time about his inexperience with women. You’d be surprised that Viktor was this good at eating you out if you weren’t familiar with what a meticulous learner Viktor was. A true perfectionist.

As Viktor sucks on your clit, Jayce lowers his head and sucks marks onto your neck, one hand still on Viktor’s head, feeding you to him.

“Please…” you whimper, not sure exactly what you’re even asking for until you feel your impending release.

Viktor laughs against your core. “Please what, my love?”

“Please, I’m gonna… mmph! I–” The leg that rests on Viktor’s back bends so that he’s pulled closer.

“Don’t stop, Vik, she’s close.” Jayce’s grip on your jaw tightens and he pulls you ever so slightly downward to watch Viktor. “Is that right, sweetheart? Use your words.”

You nod emphatically, opening your lips but fuck it’s so incredibly difficult for you to form words when there isn’t an adjective on the planet that can describe how he’s making you feel. “I’m gonna…I’m gonna cum, please, please don’t stop.”

“Good girl,” Jayce says, his grip loosening as he goes in to kiss you again while your climax hits you like a tidal wave. Jayce feels the impact of it against his mouth in the form of your own, needy, whimpering moans.

Your legs begin to shake, but Viktor’s hands wrap around your thighs, holding you still as he shows no signs of stopping. He’s going to grant your begging wishes and ride this out with you, his tongue dancing along your clit, his fingers spreading you wide so it’s certain he won’t miss a spot.

Once you’ve settled, Viktor pulls away, wiping the arousal from his lips with the back of his hand. You’ve seen him exhausted, aching, and messy, but you’ve never seen him with such a powerful glint of desperation in his eyes.

“Did that feel good, sweetheart?” Jayce asks, his fingers combing through your hair.

Viktor seats himself on the couch again, drawn to your collarbone again, this time using his fingers to navigate the delicate clavicle.

You nod, but it takes every ounce of effort you have to lift your head up repeatedly.

“We’re not done with you just yet,” Jayce says, getting up off of the couch, “if that’s alright with you.”

The request is almost rhetorical. Of course it’s alright with you. He knows that. If the wanton, needy little noises you were still making in agreement were any sign of the pleasure you derived from this arrangement, you could go on until morning.

“Viktor, take your pants off,” Jayce demands, standing over the two of you.

“Who decided you’d be calling the shots for tonight?” Viktor asked, breathlessly, raising one eyebrow.

“If you don’t want to, I’ll gladly take your pla–”

Viktor rushed to take his pants off. You helped him with the belt buckle and in sliding them down his legs. As you do, Jayce fully removes your panties. It doesn’t make much of a difference, now that the two men have seen every inch of you.

As Viktor’s pants come off, you see the impressive imprint of his cock underneath his boxers.

“Can I?” You ask gently, lowering your hand to hover over his cock.

“We’re past that,” Viktor says, grinning as he takes your hand and guides it to his length. You dip your fingers under the waistband of his boxers and pull them downward so that they pool at his thighs.

Wow.

You���d always sort of assumed that since Viktor was so skinny that he couldn’t be hiding much. How wrong you were. Your lips part slightly, already salivating for him. You begin to stroke his cock, ready for him to push your head onto his shaft until you can’t breathe, but you hear a tongue clicking behind you.

“No need for that,” Jayce says. “I think we’ll save that treat for the workday. For now…”

Jayce’s strong hands find their grip on your waist on your right leg, pulling you to straddle Viktor’s lap.

“I don’t think either of us can wait any longer for this,” you look back at Jayce as he speaks, watching as he unbuckles his own belt and shed his pants along with his dress shirt.

Now this one, you expected. With the amount of female “advisors” you’ve seen watching Jayce in the forge, there’s no way he wasn’t packing.

“I’m inclined to agree,” Viktor says, his hands falling at either side of your waist and lining you up with the wet tip of his cock, already ruined with precum.

“I should start preparing you back here…” Jayce says as his large hands find purchase on the round of your ass.

“Are you ready, my love?” Viktor asks with a kiss to your wrist as he lines the tip of his cock up with your entrance, swiping it a few times to ensure you’re wet enough for his entry. You’re beyond wet enough. “It would seem you are…” He laughs as he pushes your hips down on him.

Even though you hadn’t taken your eyes off of Viktor’s cock since you took it out, the size still surprised you as he pressed into your wet cunt.

“Fuck…” Viktor groaned as his neck fell back against the couch cushions. “You feel…even better than I imagined.”

You can’t even form a sentence to reply. The stretch is so intense you’ve forgotten every word in the English language. You can’t even move, paralyzed on his length. Luckily, Viktor solves that problem for you, thrusting up into you suddenly, so that all you can do is let out a strained squeal. Your hands grip his shoulders but you can’t even worry about how your nails might be hurting him, although if his grin is any consolation, he might even be enjoying the pain.

Jayce trails a line of kisses down your spine and when you look back, he’s kneeling on the ground, spitting on two fingers. You barely have time to process what that might mean before those two fingers plunge into your unfilled hole.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, the first word that you can remember in these trying times. The pain lasts only a second before the feeling sends flutters into your stomach, and elsewhere. With renewed vigor, you begin to let yourself bounce on Viktor’s cock, eliciting a lovely little whine from him.

“Tell me how he feels, baby,” Jayce says, removing his two fingers.

“So…so good.”

“I know you can be more descriptive than that,” Jayce laughs as he gets up to stand, wiping some spit onto his plump tip and stroking it.

“I’ve wanted this for so long…” you say, the truest sentence in your head the first full one you can form. “So long… it’s so long…” Okay, back to putting the “senseless” in “fucked senseless.”

The boys laugh, but Viktor’s is a strained, breathless laugh.

“Please Jayce…” you beg, looking back at him over your arched back. “I want both of you…”

“Whatever you say,” Jayce says with a crooked grin as he wraps his hands around your waist, just above Viktor’s, who finds it in him to stop you from bouncing to allow Jayce his entry.

With a full, unexpected thrust, Jayce is completely in you. The stretch burns like Hell at first, but God you’ve never felt so full before.

Jayce lets out a desperate groan, not moving for a few more seconds. When Viktor thrusts into you, Jayce reacts with a moan.

“Fuck, I can…I can feel your cock, Vik,” Jayce says, letting out a breathy laugh.

“Lucky you,” Viktor laughs as he continues to lift his hips to meet your cervix.

With a dismissive scoff, Jayce finally finds the will to thrust again, even if it just results in more wanton, wasted little moans from his mouth: noises you didn’t even think he could make.

With both of them inside you at once, thrusts alternating and hitting spots within you that make you scream their names, it won’t be long until your second orgasm of the night.

Jayce’s hand reaches for your hair, taking a cluster of it and pulling you so that your back arches and your shoulders are flush with his. He cheeks your cheek with a contrasting delicateness and whispers in your ear, “Such a good girl for us. Isn’t she the best, Vik?”

“Better than our hands, absolutely,” Viktor jokes as his chest heaves and his forehead contorts. He’s close, you can tell.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Jayce says, releasing your hair and focusing all of his efforts onto your tight little hole, stretching you impossibly wide.

“I-I don’t think I can take much more,” Viktor utters.

“Me neither,” you whimper, pressing your head into the nook between Viktor’s head and shoulder. “Oh fuck…”

“Cum for us, baby,” Jayce says, squeezing your ass cheeks as his last few thrusts are used up. It’s not long before you feel his cock twitching, sending spurts of hot cum into your bottom. “Gods! Fuck, baby!”

The sight of the two of you losing your composure above Viktor is enough to send him over, and as you fall onto the full length of his cock after riding out your own orgasm, he pumps you full of his seed as well, whimpering like a wounded puppy as he ruts into you helplessly one final time. You’re all a pile of spent, sweaty, fucked out messes.

Jayce reluctantly pulls out of you, leaving a splatter of cum falling from your hole onto Viktor’s lap.

“Sorry,” he laughs as he collides with the couch beside Viktor.

You try to pull off Viktor's cock to provide him some relaxation, but he holds you still. “Please, don’t…don’t move yet. I want this to last as long as possible.”

“Feeling sentimental, Vik?” Jayce teases, running a hand through his lab partner’s sweaty hair.

“Feeling…like I’d like to memorize this feeling before I go to bed tonight.”

You laugh and kiss the bridge of his nose before resting your head on Jayce’s neighboring shoulder. “I should’ve put ‘handling two cocks’ on my resume. Maybe then you two would have actually read it.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to list us as references on future resumes,” Jayce laughs, rubbing your hand softly as the three of you come down from your shared highs. “I’m glad you decided to come tonight. To the gala, I mean.”

You and Viktor both laugh.

“Next time, you won’t have to deal with crude men asking you to dance,” Viktor says as he kisses the top of your head. “You’ll be busy at our side the whole night.”

“I’m never going to move past the pretty little lab assistant allegations, am I?” You smiled into Jayce’s sturdy, shuddering shoulder.

“Maybe not,” Viktor said. “But why should you? You are our beautiful little lab assistant.”

@jeromeslilhoe @justaproudslytherpuff @onyxistired @sseleniaa @clearlycaffeinated-blog @darknessbyme @shoyofroyoyoyo

(pretty much just tagged everyone that commented asking for part two)

[sttoru]

satoru loves loving you.

he loves taking care of you; giving you random gifts you don’t necessarily need; cooking you (half-burnt) food to make sure you eat at least a little something; hugging you when you least expect it, but need it most; reassuring you every time you’re anxious about something — even with the smallest of things that others would brush off and probably tell you ‘it’s fine’ or that ‘it isn’t that big of a deal’.

satoru also takes loving you quite seriously. he isn’t ashamed to admit how much he likes his lover nor does he care about what people think of you two as a couple. you’re the apple of his eyes; the love of his life. the only one who matters. therefore, it’s only natural for him to be a bit too. . . dramatic when it comes to showing you that he cares for you.

“satoru — love — i’m not dying. it’s just the flu.”

especially when you’re feeling under the weather: you’re sick? he’s double as sick.

“oh, my baby. my sweet, sweet babyyyy,” satoru sniffles as he cradles your tired body to his chest, his chin resting on top of your head. the devastation in his voice sounded like you were at war and had suffered a fatal gunshot to the chest.

it was nice to know that satoru truly cared that much about your wellbeing. also, kind of funny. it’s like he was (unintentionally) attempting to make you feel better about your situation — almost like he was trying to take your mind off the throbbing headache you were experiencing.

“sato—” “i know, i know—no need to talk. we’re gonna get ya fixed up, all right? hold on.”

your eyes followed satoru’s slender hands as they swiftly search the plastic bag he had bought home from the store a few minutes ago. he picks out a bottle which contains your usual painkillers and quickly takes out the recommended dose.

satoru pouts whilst grabbing a cup of water, though doesn’t directly hand you it over, “open up, princess. you’ll feel better after ya take this. trust me.”

all you can do is accept it. satoru’s going to baby you throughout your entire sickness, whether you liked it or not.

you part your lips and allow your lover to put the small pill on your tongue. he gently places the rim of the cup by your mouth and helps you swallow the medicine — praising you afterwards with a quick ‘that’s my girl’ — before helping you rest your head back on the pillow.

satoru does not allow you to move a single muscle when he’s around and you’re unwell. he insists to take care of you and to nurse you back to health — even if he has to skip on important meetings or missions. the entire world could be burning down and he’d still only think of your safety and health.

nothing in the world compares to you. no one and nothing ever will.

[cherry-hulu]

— Shows on 3.. 2.. 1..

Synopsis: Thirteen dicks in front of you, all standing tall with varying girth and size. Not a matter of when and where, but rather a matter of how.

Warnings: idol!SVT x idol!fem reader, orgy, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, implied free use, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, double penetration, creampie, implied age gap, dacryphilia, throat bulge, LOTS of cum, orgasm delay, pwp

#Part One — #Part Two

You on all fours with Dino rutting behind you, mouth covered by his big hands while his other was wrapped around your waist pressing you against him. G spot being abused by the constant hit of his cock. Skimpy skirt held up, safety shorts on the floor. No lube, no protection.

All while his other members watch, dicks out of their pants, standing up and hard, raging red with precum leaking up at the top. Some were jacking off, some were just rubbing themselves,some were helping each other by jacking each other off or sucking the other, but all had their eyes on you.

Your mouth is slightly ajar, eyes unfocused and glassy, lips swollen because of how hard Dino had kissed you earlier, pretty and beautiful moans and whimpers coming out of your mouth. You were a wet dream come true.

"You like that? You like whoring yourself out in front of your seniors? Little slut." Followed by a slap to the ass by Dino himself.

"Bet she does, probably gets herself off to the thought of us 'no?" Said Minghao

"Such a pretty hole, always open and ready to be fucked. Heard from a little birdie that you took both Jaehyun and San in one go just yesterday." Said Mingyu

"If she can take two then I bet she can take all of us, isn't that right right slut?" Hoshi asks rubbing the tip of his cock slowly. Groans and moans from the other members was taken out of that question.

"Such a perfect cock sleeve. Can't wait 'till we can have our own way with you." Joshua mutters

"Fuck.." Dino whispers under his breath, hips moving faster, harder, and deeper. If you weren't already wrecked earlier, you most definitely are now. Eyes rolling to the back of your head, your lips stuck between your teeth, you looked like a wet dream come true.

Wonwoo, taking the initiative, stands up from his seat and walks over to you with his cock hanging out off his pants. You open your mouth as you feel his thumb caress your lips, holding your chin within the palm of his hands. You suck on his fingers as they slip into your mouth, slobbering your saliva all over it— your doe eyes staring straight into his sharp siren gaze.

Woozi, now standing beside you, grabs your left hand gently, lifting it to wrap around his dick before beginning to thrust his hibs nack and forth slowly. "Hm.. your nails look too pink princess, how about we add some white to it?" He grunts as you rub your thumb across his top, gliding your nails in between the slit of his penis.

Your right hand was next, now with Vernon this time. Without any word spoken, he grabbed your fingers and wrapped them around his length. He was intent on watching you suck Wonwoo's fingers off while you hold a staring contest with the taller man.

Dino— seeing all of this unfold— didn't took too long until he was cumming inside of you not giving two shits if it was ruining your dress. "What an obedient good little girl, taking cum without complaints." He says as he slowly pulls out watching his semen drip out of your glistening cunt.

"My turn princess." Seungkwan said as he finally stood to his feat and walked over to you, he'd been watching from behind, loving the way your ass jiggles everytime Dino's hips meet yours. Dick in his hand, he gives himself a few long strokes before pushing into you filling your cunt up again.

He can't help but moan at the feeling of your tight cunt filled with the cum of his dongsaeng embrace his cock in a warm welcome embrace. More semen seeps out of your pussy as he pushes his whole length in, creaming off the sides of your hole. Astonished, he stayed still as he watches your pussy hug him tight.

You moaned with him feeling mutual about the experience, eyes crossing and moving to the back of your head breaking eye contact with Jeon Wonwoo. And before you knew it, Wonwoo was inserting his own length into your mouth taking you by surprise, causing you to choke lightly.

"Such a good girl, taking good care of her seniors. That's all you are aren't you? Just a tight pretty hole to be filled." Jeonghan. The devil has finally spoken having come up from sucking off Seungcheol. From being on his knees to man-spreading playing with the tip of his cock. The versatility of this man was insane.

"Hm.. but as far as I know good girls don't let their senior do all the work. Don't they?" A deep throaty voice echoes the room as the leader and eldest of the group spoke his words. He was sitting on the loveseat taking up majority of it's space as he spreads his legs, dick standing big and tall resting against his abdomen. It was wet, covered with Jeonghans saliva and his own precum.

You whimpered as your cunt tightens at their words, both hands immediately moving to motion jack off the two boys beside you, head bobbing up and down, pussy grinding on Seungkwan.

Jun, now standing beside Wonwoo, slaps his cock on the small cock bulge on your cheek spreading his precum all over your face. It was hard and heavy filled with cum waiting to be released. His tip ran all over your face before stopping beside the corners of your mouth. "Open up princess, let's put this pretty mouth to good use."

You stop moving your head leaving only your ass and hands in motion. You whimpered looking up at him, you looked like a mess. Make-up running all over your face, mouth spread wide open wrapped around Wonwoo's cock. "C'mon, open up for sunbae. You can take it, I know you can." Jun smirks, tapping his tip on your lips.

Slowly, you pull away from Wonwoos cock before sticking your tongue out for the both of them. The two men make eye contact first smirking at each other. Their dicks were pretty different from each other— Wonwoo was thick while Jun was on the thinner side, but their lengths were on par with each other.

Jun goes first laying his dick on your tongue, followed by Wonwoo doing the same. You move your head forward looking up at both of them as you slowly take them inch by inch. "Shit," Vernon whispers under his breath as he cums all over your hands. "So fucking hot baby," he moans as he watches his hyungs dick disappear into your throat.

Halfway through their length, an evident bulge was starting to show on your throat. Tears shed from yout eyes as your mouth stretches wider than it has ever been in your whole entire life.

"You look so pretty when you cry baby.. only a few more, come one, you can do it, hyung is so proud of you." Wonwoo coos as he cups the side of your face in his hands making you whimper around the two men.

You choke on their dick as Seungkwan starts moving behind you grinding back on your cunt. "Such a good princess, taking us so well." He moans, starting to thrust his hips into you. Pace starting slow before moving quickly forcing you to move forward on Jun and Wonwoos dick inevitably swallowing them more.

"Poor baby, doesn't know who to focus on," Minghao coos at you as Vernon moves away from you, your hand immediately wrapping around Minghaos dick as he comes close to you. "Would you look at that? I haven't even said anything yet and she already knows what to do. Certified slut." He chuckles.

To be honest, you weren't registering anything that was happening to you anymore. You were slowly turning dumb, the only thing you knew was cock cock cock and cock.

Jun slowly starts to thrust his dick into you when he starts to notice your struggle. "No thoughts behind those eyes 'no?"

"Fuck– shit– I'm cumming–," Woozi whines as spurts of cum come out of his dick completely covering your fingers in his cum. Boy was he a heavy cummer, you kinda wished he did it somewhere else.

Your attention from the producer immediately shifted away when you feel Wonwoo and Jun thrusting into your mouth. All of a sudden you feel two different hands go under your top and fondle with your boobs. This in combination with Seungkwan constantly impaling your g-spot has you rolling your eyes backwards.

You were doing so good in holding your come until this very moment, almost forgetting about your sunbaes orders, you hold your stomach tight stopping yourself from cumming. You were so close, so, so, so close.

"Sh.. shit.. fuck! I'm cum.. cumming," Seungkwan groans behind you, thrusts staring to speed up even more hitting you harder than before.

"How about you all go together and cover her up in your cum?" Seokmin spoke, finally.

"Y.. yeah. I can do that." Minghao responds, breaths shaky as he nears his orgasm.

"I'm close.." Wonwoo says groaning. "Yeah.. me too." Jun, breathless.

A few more thrusts and your senses were overwhelmed of how much cum is going on and into you.

Seungkwan shooting his seeds deep within you, mixing with your precum and Dinos dump earlier. Jun and Wonwoo filling up your mouth, directly shooting down your throat forcing you to swallow and taste a mix of their cum. And of course, Minghao spraying all over your hand and back while pinching your tits.

It truly was a sight to see, something that some people could only imagine. Moans, pants, and whimpers echoes in the room as the other members cum on their own as well. It was clear to see that everybody was spent.

Well everybody except five. Seungcheol, Jeonghan, Joshua, Seokmin, Hoshi, and Mingyu. Who's dicks are still as hard as rock, standing as tall as the buildings.

Insisting that they go before the other members considering how far their stamina can get them. They sat on the couch watching everything unfold before them, barely stroking their dicks.

And to ensure that they'd still have you despite already dealing with seven of their members, they made a rule, that if you had cum during the first round with the others. They'd make sure it would be your last for that week. Telling other idols to always leav you hanging no matter what. Because that's what bad girls get.

One by one, the other members pull away from you, taking their place somewhere in the room, leaving you in the middle. Cum all over your body, leaking from your cunt, your mouth, and spread all over your hand and even on your pretty dress you'd performed in.

"Ready for round two princess?"

[wheneclipsefalls]

Tawtute Sickness (A Precious Drabble)

Pairing: Adult Ao'nung x Hyperfeminine Human Reader

This one shot is from the Precious series. It can be read alone but reading the Precious origin story gives a better experience and context.

Summary: There is still so much that Ao'nung does not understand about Sky People so with your cycle running off track, he is in for quite a surprise.

Warnings: MDNI, explicit talk of menstruation, talk of blood, hormones, hurt/comfort, misunderstanding, dominant Ao'nung, interspecies relationship, aged up Ao'nung, crying, self doubt, insecurity, protective Ao'nung, swearing, PMS, sexual themes, etc.

A/N: This is just a random little fun something I thought of when I was on my period. Nothing like a silly fantasy to help one cope:)

Adult Ao'nung pic by @cinetrix

Another cramp rolls through you mercilessly. With a groan you stuff a handful of stolen popcorn into your mouth. Surrounded by a small parade of stuffed animals atop your bed and drowning in the charm that is Mr. Darcy, there is no better place to take refuge. Your period has sprung into action earlier than expected but you’re proud of how things have been handled. 

It had taken copious amounts of bribery to convince Norm to deliver an excuse to Ao’nung as to why you can’t see him for a bit. Although double his age and even in possession of an Avatar body, Norm has always crumpled slightly under Ao’nung’s presence. Even as his visits have become more frequent at the outpost. The sight makes you giggle, no matter how hypocritical that is considering you too were anxious in his company for the first few weeks here. 

Despite the time that has passed since feelings were shared between the two of you, there is still a level of intimidation and intensity that comes with Ao’nung’s visits. He is never shy when it comes to sharing his opinions. Half the time it is hard to tell what will come out of the Metkayina male’s mouth next. Although, there are ways to identify the mischief that dances in his ocean blue eyes before. 

And neither is he bashful when it comes to sharing his particularly ravenous intentions with you. You would not be able to count on both hands the amount of times you’ve tried to swat his hands away while the two of you are in public. Not that it deters him. With a potential mating on the way it’s clear that the Metkayina prince views you as his own. Even in the extreme heights of embarrassment you can’t resist the wonders that he bestows upon your body. Always leaving your heart pounding at your rib cage and red face tucking under his chin afterwards. 

So in a way, you can’t blame Norm for never growing accustomed to Ao’nung’s company.

Regardless, the alibi has been sent and you’ve foraged for the proper snacks and feminine supplies to get your through. Now all that’s left to do is tuck into your room like a locked away princess in a tower and survive the next five days. Everything is going according to plan despite the sudden arrival of ‘Aunt Flow’. And in a few days you will be back snuggled in the impressively bulky arms of a certain Metkayina male. 

With a sigh you snuggle deeper into the plush surface. Despite the risk of stains you’ve allowed yourself the luxury of wearing one of your favorite pajama sets. It’s a dusted pink shade of silk that reminds you of the vintage film Sleeping Beauty. With the soft trim of purple lace along the sleeve and shorts hem, you feel like a delicate princess waiting to be rescued. Perhaps a foolish and even childish way to cope but it’s easier to get through the pain when you blur the harsh lines of reality into that of day dreams. 

However, it seems reality will not be kept out for long.

Or at least, Ao’nung won’t be.

You hear his pounding footsteps before he even reaches your hallway, the faint echo of Norm’s protests doing nothing to stop that determined rhythm. Norm scatters away once Ao’nung has pushed your door open, with a little too much force that makes you cringe. It’s an under evaluation of his strength luckily and not rooted in any real malice. Not when his eyes now narrow at you with a playful reprimand as his tail swings. 

“What have I said about avoiding me, precious?” He clicks his tongue, hands atop his hips as you scramble further under the pillows and stuffies. 

You feel foolish for thinking this plan would work but now that Ao’nung is here you are ready to do whatever it takes to conceal your embarrassing condition. 

“Not to.” You cake the tone over with sweet innocence and an even more tooth rotting smile. As always it’s done with a certain level of hesitancy, your nerves getting the better of you when his bulking frame is taking over your doorway. Still, you’ve learned there are special ways to soften Ao’nung’s composure. 

He takes a few strides into your room, effectively prompting you to scoot back further towards the headboard. 

“Hm, so then why is my precious sevin tucking away from me? I’m starting to think you crave some discipline, paskalin.” That sharp curve of a devilish smirk looks stunning along his turquoise lips. And like the true traitor she is, your pussy flutters at the sight. 

It’s not fair for him to waltz in here with bedroom eyes and chest still adorned with a hunting harness and weapons. Not fair when your body is literally punishing you for not being pregnant and Ao’nung offers himself up on a silver platter for your nature’s carnal desires. And especially not fair when pieces of those curling strands have fallen from his bun and lay across his collarbones to leave drops of salt water. 

You are in no state to be making plans. And definitely not finding ways to coerce the stubborn prince away from something he wants. 

“I’m just not feeling well, Ao’nung. Didn’t want to make you sick.” 

Ao’nung scoffs at the idea, borderline offended that you would even consider that a possibility. With your delicate state it seems laughable to him that you would be capable of passing on any sort of sickness to him. 

“Such a fragile thing.” He steps forward with the roll of his eyes. “Do not worry, I will-”

His sentence cuts off as sharp as the jagged rocks on the westside. Now at the foot of your bed, his nostrils flare visibly. Your stomach tangles in despair, already anticipating where this is going. 

“You’re bleeding.” He states, dark tone barely giving you a chance to register his words before he is rushing to your side. Ao’nung crawls onto the bed without  a passing concern for the screeching of the bed frame under his weight. Within seconds his large frame is towering over your own smaller body until you are wedged into the corner.

“No it’s nothing really. Well I mean I am bleeding but not in the way you think…or well it’s…” The rambling doesn’t reach his ears, ocean eyes searching over every inch of you to find the injury. Trepidation settles at the looming embarrassment that threatens to follow as you desperately squeeze your thighs together. 

Fighting against Ao’nung massive hands that clutch your shoulder and hips to turn you is useless but you can’t resist trying. And then his eyes snap downwards and with it your last shred of hope signed away. A look of utter horror contorts over his face as he stares down at the thin shorts just barely covering your panties. 

A beat of silence ensues. 

Face now the shade and temperature of a raging bonfire you struggle to think of a response through the fog of humiliation. 

“How…” The sound is barely choked out from his lungs. It’s a rare sight to see Ao’nung speechless, every ounce of playful banter wiped clean. And if the circumstances were any different, as in not having that dread painted across his face at the reveal of your bleeding vagina, then you would be tempted to enjoy seeing the mighty male so caught off guard. 

His fingers dig into the flesh of your plush hips. It’s clear that his head is struggling to come back online and process what devastating news he has uncovered. 

“Well you see-” Your voice unfortunately seems to snap him out of whatever daze he has been in, his body moving into action before you can even finish your sentence. 

“I will take you to my mother.” Perhaps the most terrifying sentence Ao’nung could say as he starts trying to pull you into his arms. Embarrassment bleeds into panic. A sense of anxiety bounces between the two of you as he rushes to scoop you up and bring you to the healer’s tent and you grasp at anything to keep from being met with the most intimidating woman on the planet in this condition. 

“No wait! Ao’nung it’s fine. I’m fine.” It’s not much use when he already has your wiggling figure dragged to the end of the bed with just one hand around your ankle. It traps you underneath his body in one swoop. 

“You are bleeding.” Ao’nung reiterates, sharp canines coming to show with a slight hiss. “Mawey tawtute, she will know what to do.” He nods firmly, but there's a crack of hesitance in his voice. As if the reassurance is really there for himself than anyone else. You’ve never seen Ao’nung so serious before, nor this panicked. 

Your pleas for release mean nothing as he quickly gathers you into his arms. Panic and humiliation work in tandem to wrestle you into a state of utter panic. And working more on instinct than real thinking you do the one thing that will grant you freedom.

You grab a fistful of curly hair and yank. Hard. 

Dropped back onto your plushy bed as Ao’nung lets out a pained hiss you scramble for the one place you might be able to hide. It’s painfully obvious and stereotypical but your closet is the first and only place you can think to escape the handsome male. The door bangs shut, encasing you in the darkness surrounded by frilly dresses and tickling lace. 

You grasp the handle with all the determination your exhausted body can muster. Ronal is a wonderful healer and exquisite leader but quite literally the last person on the planet you would want to witness your embarrassing, very stupidly human, condition. It’s likely that similar to her son she too would not know about human menstruation. 

It’s gross. You feel gross. Your entire body aches and as Ao’nung starts to yank on the other handle tears are already welling up in your eyes. From what emotion exactly you haven’t the faintest clue but the weak reaction brings a pit of annoyance into the mix too. Because of course all it takes is your concerned boyfriend who is just trying to help, to put you into another crying fest. This would be the third one this morning. 

It seems that whatever god created humans was far less kind than Eywa who at least had the decency to keep women from suffering monthly in the name of procreation. And with that thought in mind, anger comes to intertwine as well. 

“Ao’nung stop! I’m not injured!” A rough shout that is anger more directed at your current situation than hands that now swing the door open. 

The Metkayina male however is more than peeved now too. He isn’t about to take no for an answer as he hooks a thick arm around your midsection to pull you out. 

“Stop struggling.” He growls. 

You're halfway to the doorway of the bedroom and Ao’nung is anything but deterred by your babbling about how it is normal, just a tawtute thing. So your mouth makes a decision before your brain can approve it. 

“It’s because I’m not pregnant!” A shout loud enough to echo down the outside hallway and freeze the Metkayina prince in place. 

What a stupid thing to say. A terrible terrible mistake, you decide as you wiggle out of his grasp to glance up at his face. Now having rendered the male speechless twice in five minutes you feel slightly guilty. And humiliated. Along with disgusting, angry, tired. In fact you may as well feel every emotion under the sun with the way your chest squeezes painfully. 

“I’m not hurt. I’m not in need of healing. It’s called menstruation. Yet another wonderful thing about being a human woman. Where my stupid vagina decides to bleed every month because there is no fucking baby in me!” Your screeches make Ao’nung’s ears pin back, your chest heaving with the effort as tears rocket down your cheeks. You can’t find it within yourself to care that this is the harshest language Ao’nung has ever heard from you. Not when sobs are already crawling up your throat and tears blurr the view of the towering male before you.

The same male that is beautiful beyond belief. The same that has somehow found some interest in you. And now the same that has yet another gross reason to rethink being with a human. 

“So no I’m not hurt but I am…am…” Trembling lips crumble into a pout. Ao’nung’s tail curves. “I am miserable. Cramping. Tired. So fucking sad because this is the seventh time I’ve watched Pride and Prejudice because I can’t find the other earlier remake of it. And angry because I’ve already ruined a pair of pink panties. The ones with the clouds…that…that took me hours to make and…and I’m so disgusting!” Ao’nung’s eyes are blown wide enough to push his hairless brows into his hairline. “There’s blood everywhere! And I fucking hate it! And…and..my sleeve got caught on the doorknob earlier-”

Strong arms gently pull you until your cheek meets the warm skin of his abs. That simple action is enough to break the dam barricading your emotions. Now in a full meltdown, you paint his swirled skin with your tears and the racketing sobs fill the room sporadically. It feels nice to have something to hold onto, small fingers squeezing his hips as you break down. 

Minutes. Hours. Years. There is no recalling how long the two of you spend in that position as you unleash every torturing feeling from your chest. What you do know is that those large hands drawing up and down your back eventually soothe those sobs into small hiccups and then finally into short sniffles. 

“You’re not hurt.” Ao’nung checks again, calmly breaking the silence. 

“M’not hurt.” You mumble against his skin, soon thereafter mourning the loss of contact when Ao’nung carefully shifts you backwards. Disappointment does not linger for long, however, when a set of turquoise thumbs brush away the tears falling over your cheeks. 

Although his expression appears to be nothing related to anger, it’s difficult to decipher what exactly the Metkayina prince is thinking. A part of you wishes to not even venture to guess but that train of thought has already left the station. Another wave of embarrassment floods as you imagine just how ridiculous you must look at this moment. Eyes blotching and red as you cry over a simple natural process that is nothing in comparison to that of which the Na’vi go through to maintain everyday village life. Hiding away from your boyfriend in a sea of stuffed animals and stuffing yourself with popcorn as your way of throwing a pity party all while Ao’nung is still dressed in his hunting gear.

No doubt he has been up since dawn. Fulfilling both physically and socially draining duties to keep the clan running smoothly, in preparation for his time of reign. Ao’nung is everything you are not. You knew it within the first few minutes of meeting him. Perhaps he is not always the most patient or humble, but he is brave. And tough. Oh so mighty and resilient in taking on whatever Eywa throws his way. 

How much worse do you appear when coming from that perspective? Still dripping in salt water and spear leaning against the doorframe, what compels him to want to spend time with a whiny thing like you?

“Stop crying.” Large hands bracket the sides of your head as he works to keep up with the dropping tears. 

And you wish you could. 

You wish you could be more like the mighty warrior in front of you. Years have proven you to be nothing more than a small child that can not let go of her toys. Drowning in day dreams as your silly way to cope. 

That truth spins despair back into full swing. You feel even more guilty when Ao’nung pulls you back into his embrace, because who are you to warrant such affection? It’s clear that he deserves someone so much more and yet you selfishly accept the feel of his strong arms encircling you because it makes you feel safe. Because it allows air to properly enter your lungs again at a normal speed. 

When Ao’nung takes a knee to match your eye level, you twist to veer away from those crystal-like eyes. The Na’vi doesn’t give you much of a chance as he manhandles you back into place,his tongue clicking in disapproval, so he can look you over properly. 

“My poor tawtute.” He coos at you, as if addressing a lost juvenile creature without its mother. “Mawey, oeyӓ paskalin.” [Calm, my dear]  And before your brain can register the sweet nectar of his words, larger lips are pressing against your own. The light flutter of your heart is recurrent as he patiently works to deepen the kiss. It’s different from those that fill your passionate nights of lovemaking. Ao’nung patiently pulls you into that bliss until you are melting against him. 

Heavy eyes stall in opening once Ao’nung has pulled away. 

“Bring your mask.” Ao’nung intstructs abruptly. 

“What?” 

He has already risen to full height, a large hand resting along your spine to urge you towards the door. Unbothered by your confusion, he takes a well needed sip of air from his own dangling mask. When he does catch a glimpse of your expression he pauses before a smirk tugs at his lips and his tail bats playfully. 

“And your bunny of course.” He eyes the discarded toy with lips pulling back just enough to reveal sharp canines. “You will feel better once you are home.” 

And suddenly you are no longer confused. It should have been obvious, this most recent topic of argument between the two of you. No matter how fascinated Ao’nung is by your well decorated room he stops at nothing to coerce you to abide in his marui. He has been caught more than a few times even openly smuggling things from your room in the scheme of planting it in his home like bait for his prey. 

“Ao’nung no. I can’t come over tonight. Not like this.” 

Those hairless brows knit together as he sweeps over your frame once more. It’s clear he finds no flaw in your condition that would prevent you from letting him steal you away to his home. 

“And besides I have everything I need right here.” You scramble back over to your bed and begin explaining the little nest you have created for yourself. “Pillows for the perfect position, stuffed animals, snacks, and in another twenty minutes Mr. Darcy is going to confess his undying love for Elizabeth.” It’s clear that the last indication is lost on him as he follows your point towards the small tv. 

It’s not his first time observing the thin rectangle that plays moving pictures but it still manages to catch his confused attention each time. His lips curl back and faces squints with an utter look of disgust. The fact that the characters speak in Sky People language never helps to spark an interest for him. 

“I’m fine right here, Nung. I promise.” Your soft smile when you perch to sit atop the covers is only met with a scowl. The difficulty in explaining this to Ao’nung is yet another reason you had originally planned to hide away alone until this nightmare had blown over. “Go back to your duties. I’ll be happy here.” 

And that is the tipping point for Ao’nung. What is meant to come off as reassurance instead has his hairless brows pinching together and large hands settling over his curved hips. 

“You’re staying here for mester darsee.” It’s difficult to take his misplaced anger seriously when he struggles to pronounce the few English words. 

“No, Ao’nung that is not-”

“Fine. I will stay.” His massive body is already climbing onto your poor bed before you have another chance to protest. He continues to mutter under his breath. It’s a messy sprawl of annoyed curses and something about you not needing a Mr. Darcy. The giant Na’vi pouts even as he pulls you close to curl his body around yours. 

It’s wrong to keep the future Olo’eyktan to yourself like this but watching him sulk like a giant cat is too amusing to pass up. And then there is the comfort that comes with having Ao’nung wrapped around you like a dragon protecting his hoard, so you decide to be selfish. 

His curls tickle the back of your neck and a large hand spans over your abdomen. As he rubs soothing circles into your lower stomach you swear the heat and motion alone is better than the battery powered heating pack. The cramps don’t evaporate away but they settle into something more bearable, especially when your favorite scene finally comes onto the screen and you snuggle closer to your ridiculous lover. 

Slowly throughout the movie Ao’nung’s hand come to explore south into territory that would have Mrs. Bennett passing into an early grave. That confident exploration is a stark contrast to the simple touches exchanged between your favorite characters, but it holds the same passion. The same tension that has your thighs clamping together in defense against his devious fingers. 

You can feel the way his lips curve into a smirk against your ear. Period hormones are your sworn enemy as you are caught between fighting him off in sheer embarrassment and finally letting his hand slip underneath the band of your pretty shorts. 

“Don’t worry, oeyӓ tawtute. Next month I will do better.”

The sudden comments has you taken aback. .

“Do better at what?”

“Giving you my baby.” He casually states, unbothered by the way you freeze and struggle to take in oxygen. “This Sky Demon sickness won’t come for you when you are filled with my seed.” 

And like a silent promise, his thumb swipes over your lower stomach just as his fingers breach the band of your panties. 

I hope you enjoyed this little musing. I can't wait to carry out some of the other plans I have for these two. If you enjoyed it too please please let me know. I can't tell you enough how much hearing your feedback and comments means to me (anonymous or not).

[rainrot4me]

TW: Overstimulation, sexual torture, vibrator, feet?

A/N: In my brain, Jack can't become overstimulated. He just... rages.

𐚁₊⊹

Jack regretted his decision from the moment he made it.

It was his own fault, curiosity tugging at his interests to land him tied to his own desk chair, heaving for breath.

The demon was more of a traditional fucker, using his own devices to make you both feel good. He deemed his claws, tongues, and dick good enough to please you, so why would you need more?

So, when your mysterious toy appeared as he was kissing along your neck, he should’ve known better than to ask. Should've known better than to question what could be so good about a buzzing little wand.

But now here he was, claws tearing into the leather of his chair as you sat on his desk, pushing your foot against the vibrator strapped to his cock. The rumbling was driving him insane, feet digging into the hardwood as he hissed, the rope you had found tied surprisingly well against his limbs.

“Fuckin’ turn it off…” He snapped, hips digging up into your foot as you pressed harder, his length aching and sensitive to the touch. You smiled, your legs straightening to push up, and the demon’s hitched whine sent chills through your body. Strings of cum decorated his lower abdomen, staining the waistband of his jeans tugged around his thighs. "I get it- my turn now-" He jumbled, clenching his jaw. He had already come more than he wanted to, balls aching and cock swelling with sensitivity, the toy relentless.

Shaking your head, you smiled, pressing your toes down to get a better press on the toy. "Every time we have sex, I always end up crying because of how rough you are. I think this is a good repayment." You chirped back, your other foot pressed on his knee to widen his legs, shifting him further into his desk chair. The demon growled, eye sockets tensing and squinting with every jerk of his cock.

Jack kicked his feet, trying to angle his hips away but could not. The vibrator was tugging at some guttural feeling, some instinctual reaction he knew he wouldn't be able to handle, especially you. "Y/N-" He groaned, head falling back against the back of the chair as you slid your foot up and down his length, stimulating his cock to push precum from the tip. The toy was achingly sweet, the demon feeling his grasp on himself slipping the more it strained him. He was going to cum again, and he didn't know if he could restrain anymore.

You watched carefully, his cock twitching and writhing as he whined, Jack's claws tearing shreds of leather from his armrests as he felt his cock pulse, head shooting up. "Y/N-" He snapped. He was so close, the toy making him reach orgasm a lot faster than usual, but it messed with his senses, messed with his urges. He didn't know what was happening, but the sensations in his gut told him the frequent cumming was tricking his brain into a forced rut.

His brain repeated the same sentence... 'Grab them, fuck them, eat them, breed them, take them...'

Strings of cum were whipping from his cock, the tip red and angry as he gnashed his teeth, sharp tips cutting into his lip. Jack felt like he couldn't breathe, his senses becoming too full and stimulated as he watched your face, vision swirling between clear and unfocused.

That's when he lost it, your little smile flipping the internal switch he was so desperately holding onto, letting himself fall apart.

His jaw went loose, the demon's shoulder craning in and jerking his body, growls and whimpers echoing from his throat. "Fuck..." He snapped, the thick black substance leaking from his eye sockets doubling, dribbling down his cheeks and onto his shirt, dripping from his chin.

You kept your foot still, the vibrator continuously rumbling and jerking his cock, but it was almost like he couldn't feel it anymore. His attention was too focused on his slack jaw, his mouth hanging open as you watched his sharp teeth gleam, seemingly extending and contorting in his mouth, desperate for something to latch onto. Likewise, with his claws, the nails well-torn through the leather and desperately grasping in your direction, digging at the rope snugged onto his wrists.

"Jack...?" You questioned, letting your foot slip from the toy and onto his legs, leaning forward. Your boyfriend looked dazed, body aching and twitching as the toy rumbled, thighs clenching with every shock. The demon urged you to take the bait when his tongues finally slipped from his lips, lulling and slithering against his jaw, collecting the black liquid dripping onto his clothes. You watched, leaning closer and closer, curiosity tugging you in.

You felt the warm claws gripped around your throat before you heard the rope snap, the demon's body propelling on top of yours and shoving your back down into the desk, the wood cracking. "Jack!" You shrieked, pressing your hands against his face as his mock tears dripped onto your face, running down your cheeks. The demon just laughed, sharp teeth gleaming as he snapped, nipping at your skin. "What? Little thing doesn't want to play anymore?" His chest heaved, panting against your skin as his fangs gleamed, hungry and ready.

His voice sounded deeper too, more grumbled and primal, possessive. His claws sunk into your skin, their length doubled as his hand wrapped around the entirety of your neck, a gasp ringing from your lips before abruptly snapping off. "So cruel..." Jack tsked, pursing his lips as he ran a digit down to your jaw, pressing against your flushed skin. "You were so mean to me..."

Apologies rang, desperate hands pushing against his chest as the vibrator was long forgotten on the floor, the toy still buzzing as you felt a swelled cock rutting against your clothed crotch. "My turn." He chuckled, leaning down towards your face to swipe one of his tongues along the side of your face, circling your ear and sending chills. You whined; legs forced to separate as you glanced down, the base of Jack's length already swelling. A forced rut. The ribbed cock, red and angry, hanging heavy between his legs was evidence of that.

"Fuck." You whimpered, watching the length bob and grind against you, your thighs aching and abdomen fluttering with every press of his hips. Something about ruts just made Jack so much bigger, his body converting into this thing like he really was becoming a demon. You'd done it now for sure.

"Open up, little thing," Jack growled, jaw hanging open as his tongues swirled together, pressing against your lips and forcing their way into the warmth of your mouth, aiming to fill your throat. You gagged, whining when you felt your pants forcefully shagged off of your thighs, the demon humming his eagerness into your mouth.

"I'll show you how to really cry..."

[idesofrevolution]

Quality Time

*PING* Rocco looked down and smiles. He'd been wondering what Carlo and their father had been up to for the past week. Ever since their mother left a couple of years back, their father had been relatively distant- choosing to spend his hours away from the office at the gym instead of at home with his sons. To be fair, Rocco had left the house at 18, and now at 24 he wasn't home as often as he'd hoped. Nonetheless, it took both boys by shock when their relatively distant father decided to take a month off of work to spend some "quality time" with his sons. Carlo got the first two weeks, and Rocco would have the second. What they were in for, their father wouldn't say.

Hey, Roc. Dad wants us all to meet up tonight. We're at the gym on Broad Street, meet us there in 30 minutes.

The text was odd, definitely different than the normally chipper tone his brother is known for having. There wasn't even a single emoji... Rocco had hoped that everything would go well, but from the curtness of Carlo's message, it wasn't looking good. He sighed, walking his lanky ass over to the closet and throwing on some clothes, wasting no time making the 20 minute walk down to Broad street. The dim neon glow of the Planet Jacked sign illuminated the front of the strip mall; at 9PM on a Wednesday, the gym was the only business open compared to the vacant suites and GameStop next door.

Rocco pulled open the door, pulling out his phone to text Carlo that he'd arrived. The response was immediate:

In the kettlebell room. Hurry up.

Something did feel off, but Rocco had dismissed it as an irritated Carlo trying to pawn their gruff and macho dad off on him. Neither were "manly men" by their father's standards, not that he'd ever treated them poorly by any means. It just meant that they had little to nigh in common with eachother, and little to build a very "buddy buddy" relationship on. But, at least he was making an effort.

Rocco made his way through the gym floor, weaving through benches and weight machines to the double glass doors that houses the calisthenics room. He pushed open the door, and walked inside. Right off the bat, his suspicions that something was off were proven to be justified as he saw his brother flexing in the mirror. Or at least, he thought it was his brother. The man had Carlo's likeness: his short stature, his green eyes, the black and green headphones... but this was not his brother.

Carlo was easily 100 lbs of muscle heavier than when he'd left with their father on Monday morning. His hair was buzzed short, his formerly friendly face now scowled an aggressive smoulder, his arms and legs were bursting with hard muscle. Compared to the 5'2" skinny 19 year old Rocco had known, this man might as well have been a stranger.

"Get my bag over there, gotta shower and change." His voice was harsh, gruff... as if he'd smoked eight cigars before working out. He remained flexing in the mirror, as Rocco stood there gobsmacked. His eyes quickly shifted from his physique to his brother standing perplexed at the door. "You gonna sit and stare or are we gonna get going?" Rocco slowly walked over to Carlo's gym bag, picking it up and straining to shlep it over his shoulder. "Jesus, Roc. We've got to get you into the gym. C'mon, let's go." Carlo turned and walked out of the room, with Rocco hastening to meet his pace.

"Uh, Carlo... Did you... take something? I mean, I'm not accusing you of anything, but how did you..."

"Get this fuckin' jacked? Dad helped out a bit." Outside of Rocco's eyesight, Carlo smirked devilishly. He sneered, hocking a mouthful of spit onto the garbage can. Rocco nearly dropped the bag and bolted. This couldn't be the sweet, naive little brother he'd grown up with. If anything, he was acting more like their father than himself. As they entered the locker room, Carlo stopped at the mirror again, pinching his chin as if he were checking himself out in the mirror. "Yeah, Dad was saying he wanted me to try some pussy this week, and that girls liked a guy with guns. Heh, it worked." He flexed his massive arms, the putrid scent of heavy unwashed musk wafted from his pits as he did. Rocco pinched his nose, dropping the gym bag onto the bench.

"Since when have you been interested in girls?" Rocco spoke with genuine concern in his voice. Carlo had been an out and proud gay man for years now. Their father never understood it, but it never really bothered him any. To him, as long as his sons were 'getting some' then all was well. But this, combined with Carlo's inflated ego and body...

"Since I felt like it. Thought I'd give breedin' a try. After six girls this week, I'm tuckered out." Carlo sauntered toward the shower stalls, tossing his hat and headphones to his brother before turning to face him. "Dad will be here in a minute, just wait here." With that, he walked into the stall, and Rocco could hear the water starting to flow. He fell backward onto the bench, awestruck. Turning to the bag, Rocco imagined vials and vials of steroids and testosterone hiding within. It was the only logical explanation. Taking a deep breath, he slowly unzipped the bag, and ripped the top open to reveal:

Nothing. Carlos' normal street clothes, albeit a bit stretched out now, and an empty shaker bottle. No drugs, no syringes, nothing incriminating whatsoever. Whatever had happened to him, it wasn't due to roid rage.

"NNNNUGUUHHHH" Carlo's voice echoed in the empty locker room over the sound of the showerhead. Rocco stood up quickly, darting toward the shower stalls. Before he could ask if his brother was okay, the noises began. Wet noises- unaffiliated with the running shower. Rocco slowly crept closer, and the sounds had become clearer. Slimy schlorps and squelches combined with Carlo's moans of seeming pleasure. Was he fucking a pocket pussy? Surely not, he assumed, though in the back of his mind, the brother he'd seen was not the Carlo he knew. "uuuuuuUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNAGHHHHHH!" One final moan and a rubbery slurp, and the room was silent again.

Rocco quickly rushed to the end stall, ready to rip the white curtain open, only for it to open on it's own: revealing the hulking figure of his father. The shock was palpable, as thick as the steam in the air. His father towered above him, as he always did, a massive slab of hard meat with a face. Sweat dripped from every part of his hulking body, and his face was already plastered with a surprised expression. As if he weren't expecting Rocco to see him yet.

"Dad... Is Carlo oka..." Suddenly, in the corner of his eye, he saw his brother slumped over on the shower seat, passed out under the hot streams of water: still in the shorts and running shoes he'd been wearing moments ago. His muscled body could barely bend at the waist, so his limp torso sat at a slight angle to the rest of his body. Rocco turned to his father, whose expression hadn't yet changed.

"I said I'd be there in a minute, Roc." The limber young man tried to rush to his passed out brother, only for the iron grip of his father to stop him in his tracks. "He'll be fine. He'll wake up just the way you know him, with a couple of extra pounds. Don't you worry."

"Dad, what the fuck is going on?" Rocco shouted at his father, whose brows began to furrow. The hulking man grabbed the white curtain, shutting it behind his son. Slowly the look of shock turned to one of seriousness, and a twinge of nervousness shot down Rocco's spine.

"I'm on vacation, Roc. With my boy. And now it's your turn to spend some time with your old man." Rocco took a step back, confused and anxious. "You're what, 24 now? Let me tell you something, Roc. When you hit 50, it doesn't matter if you're the sexiest god damn man alive- women just don't look at you the same. They take one look at you and see a stacked old man. They look at you like you're disgusting, Roc. I just wanted things to be the way they used to, when I was your age." Another step backward, and Rocco felt himself pinned against the wall. "It doesn't hurt. Carlo said it felt damn good. He'll wake up feelin' like a million bucks and go right back to sticking that greasy pole into some man ass. Might even be better than before. But you..." His father leaned in against the wall, the wafting stench of his BO encircling the two. "You swing both ways. So will you do your pop a favor, Roc?" Rocco swallowed his spit, as his father leaned in until they stood inches from eacother, eye to eye.

"W... What kind of favor?"

"Let me be young again. Just for a couple weeks. I'll hop back in Carlo if things get out of hand, he's already said he's good with it. Let your old man take you for a spin, show you how I used to do it back in the day. Then at the end of the month, I hop right out. Deal?" His father stuck his hand out, waiting for him to accept this insane deal. Rocco turned to his brother, slowly coming back to consciousness.

"... One week. And if you don't fuck things up, I'll think about the other two." His father smiled as Rocco shook his hand in agreement.

"Turn around, boy. And just take some deep breaths." Rocco did as he was told, slowly turning around and placing his hand onto the brown tiled wall. He could hear Carlo coming to, and hearing the wet clap of his father's hands rubbing together. "Alright, boy. It's gonna be tight, deep breath!" Rocco took a slow inhale, feeling a strange tingling sensation as he felt his father's hands on his bony shoulderblades. As he exhaled, he could feel the calloused hands slowly sink into his back. "Ohhhh, fuck." His father's gravelly bass voice growled in the cavernous room, soaring above the wet schlorps of his huge arms slowly sinking deeper into his son. Rocco watched as his father's hands appeared beneath the skin of his arms, the outline of his fingers sliding down his biceps and forearms was quickly followed by the sounds of rubbery creaks as his father's considerable muscles slid into his own. Bones cracked and skin stretched as powerful biceps and firm forearms swelled with the invasion, as his father's hands slipped into his own like two tight gloves. His meaty fingers cracked under their own volition, as his father flexed his new triceps.

"Da... Dad? Oh fuck, Roc! It's your turn now, huh, bro?" Carlo's chipper voice cut through the wet sloshing as his father stepped forward, shoving his huge sweaty feet forward into Rocco's heels, immediately swelling to fit his size 14 boats. His father's ripe foot sweat started to pour from his soles while his calves started to sink in as well. "Feels great, right? I mean look at me? Dad promised a rockin' bod, and I mean, fuck! What guy is gonna turn me down now?" Rocco continued his deep breaths, trying to ignore his brother's bizarrely normal demeanor.

"Boy, you remember what your dad taught you. Take control, and fuck hard. They'll be beggin' for that cock." As the words left his father's mouth, he thrust his groin against Rocco's rear, letting his son's skin wrap around his thick ass as he slid his beer can dick into the sheath of his boy's- quickly swelling thick and musky as his balls grew into the size of clementines.

"Roc, just wait. Dad's gonna take good care of you. We're closer than ever, right pop?" His father's hard, hairy torso sank quickly into Rocco, his back expanding as his body fully enveloped his father up to their necks. Massive, juicy pecs and washboard abs pressed against his taut skin, and sputterings of the old man's hair started to sprout across his legs, arms, and chest. Rocco looked down at his massive body, no longer under his control, inflated with his father's stature. He could feel the scratchy scruff of the old man's beard against the nape of his neck.

"Alright, boy. Let me just slide..." He felt his father's nose press against the back of his head, and as it sank in, his vision became fuzzy. "Right..." His neck bulged and stretched, his jaw clenched and sharpened. "On..." His hair grew thick and messy, his eyebrows fuller and lower. As the last of his head was swallowed by the back of Rocco's head, a final crack of his neck and a slow exhale signaled that Rocco had already sank into the recesses of his mind. Facial hair sprouted across his chiseled jawline, as he smiled his pearly white teeth. "In." His father's gravelly tone now bellowed deep from within. He pushed himself off the wall, stretching his now 6'3" body, dripping in his old man's fragrant sweat. Turning to Carlo, he raised his eyebrow.

"Alright, boy. Let's go get some ass."

---

"Yeah, this is my brother's place, we'll be alone here. Don't you worry!" Carlo led the couple into Rocco's apartment, the boyfriend ogling his juicy ass as they walked inside. "Yeah, he's in the other room. This way." Carlo smiled as he threw his arm around the duo, the woman blushing as she turned to him.

"You sure he's down for this?" Carlo only smirked as he opened the door to the bedroom, revealing 'Rocco' in all his glory, swiping through the endless supply of thirsty messages on his Taimi. The couple's jaws dropped at the very sight of him, fresh from the gym, smelling of a locker room right after a basketball tournament.

"Oh wow... Uh, Hi there... I'm Victoria and this is Ollie..." 'Rocco' barely looked up from his phone, picking up his ripe gym shoe and socks, and tossing them to Ollie.

"Sniff, boy. When you're done with that, you can do the same for my brother." The boyfriend eagerly started to huff the stinking sock, moaning in pleasure as he did. "And you..." He put his phone down onto the table, turning to Victoria with a wry smirk. "Come show daddy some love."

[hyunebunx]

˖˙ ᰋ ── pies and cuddles can fix anyone

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: happy lix day!! this is a reupload but rewritten so it's better. enjoy <3

There was nothing Felix loved more in the world than moments like these. Sure, traveling was nice, getting to see sights he’s only ever dreamed of but his favorite destination would always be here with you, in your cozy little apartment he knew like the back of his hand. Home, his favorite place to come back to would always be home to you. Back to being surrounded by your specific smell that he couldn’t fall asleep without and your comforting touch, he longed for 24/7 – nothing could ever come close to that for him. Especially when you were both engaged in his favorite hobby and dressed in matching pajamas.

“Felix, come here.”

Your sweet voice had him complying instantly, abandoning the hot chocolate to be by your side in a heartbeat. Turning to face him with the biggest smile, Felix felt himself falling in love all over again as you brought the wooden spoon to his lips while stepping closer.

“Taste this and tell me if it needs anything else. And be honest!”

With a nod, he opened his mouth to do as told, eyes closing briefly to savor the taste. Apples, caramelized apples for your pie to be exact. Nothing could feel more like autumn than that.

He had a child-like smile on his freckled face once he opened his eyes again, visibly pleased, “I think it’s delicious as always, Y/n. It doesn’t need anything else.”

The way your eyes lit up at his praise had him chuckling, your happiness contagious. That’s why he couldn’t contain himself as he moved to engulf your form in a warm hug from behind, squeezing tightly while his chin rested on your shoulder.

“Okay, thanks.” You nodded, one of your hands moving to intertwine your fingers on your stomach where his rested, “To the oven it goes then.”

But you didn’t make any attempt to move – on the contrary, you leaned back to melt into his warm embrace as he started to pepper innocent kisses all over your cheek and neck. That continued for a minute more before Felix swiftly turned your body around to face him, successfully caging you between the counter and himself.

Leaning in, he rubbed his nose against yours affectionately, “You know, the pie won’t bake by itself, my love.”

“Just five more minutes.” Your voice came out whispered as you stood there, basking in the love your boyfriend was currently showering you with. A deep laugh escaped him at your response, placing a kiss on both of your cheeks and forehead before pulling away slightly.

“You only say that when I dare wake you up without giving you cuddles first. We’re baking right now, Y/n.”

You nodded again and moved to wrap your arms around his middle, resting your head against his chest right where his heart was, “Yes so don’t wake me up. I don’t want you to disappear.”

His eyes softened at the double meaning behind your words, a pang of guilt suddenly hitting him in full force. No matter how far away he was, Felix was never going to leave nor forget you, not when his heart always brought him back to the only place that felt like home. The red string of fate that connected you could never allow that.

“This isn’t a dream, baby,” he placed a kiss on the crown of your head, words murmured against your hair, “I’m right here and I'll always be.”

You were well aware of that but some reassurance never hurt anybody.

“I know. I’m just afraid of you disappearing because you’re way too good to be true. Like an angel without its wings, trapped on this planet to make things more bearable.”

Felix laughed, the sound causing you to do so as well as he buried his face in your hair to hide his embarrassment. Flustering your boyfriend was always so fulfilling. Making an angel laugh must count for something, right? There must a gauge that once filled will grant you eternal happiness.

Not like you were too interested, you already had that with Felix by your side.

“Shut up.” He murmured against your neck, the gesture causing goosebumps to appear all over your skin. “Put the pie in the oven and let’s go cuddle already. Even the hot chocolate is cold by now.”

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗜 𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗙𝗔𝗖𝗘

　　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N has had a crush on Matt for years but hid her feelings out of fear. She just didn't expect Matt to feel the same way about her.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The sounds of random music and different audio from TikTok echoed through the four walls of Matt's room.

The brunette was lying in the center of his double bed, his torso lightly supported on the headboard, above his fluffy pillow, while his right arm was half raised and supported on the bed by his elbow.

His hand held his phone up tightly while his thumb scrolled through the screen, double-clicking on it every now and then, liking some videos. His left hand was on Y/N's back, who was in her favorite and most comfortable position; on top of Matt.

Y/N had her body lying completely on the boy's body, her chest pressed against his while her legs rested against the mattress and between Matt's open ones. Her head was lying on his left shoulder, right in the crook of his neck, her hair tickling his jaw and chin every time she moved it, sometimes to watch one of the videos, but mostly just to admire his features.

The girl had a huge crush on Matt and that wasn't news to anyone. Although she never talked about it, everyone saw the way she acted around him through her body language - that spoke louder than any words could -, except Matt himself.

But he wasn't the only oblivious one among the two. Although he didn't make his years-long crush on the girl so apparent as she did - even while trying not to -, he liked her just as much.

Y/N watched Matt's varying reactions closely and attentively to each different video, her eyes scanning his features carefully, getting lost in each line of expression. Her pupils carried a glow that only appeared when she looked at him, shining bright.

Her right hand was raised over Matt's cheek, her fingertips lightly caressing his smooth skin, tracing every line she could see, and the ones she couldn't too - she had all of them already memorized and embedded in her mind.

She was completely sure that Matt was the most beautiful boy she had ever seen; every trait and habit of his captivated her, as much as his aura, which was so calm and sincere that it made her want to never leave his side again. Just the thought made her smile like a fool, and the gesture didn't go unnoticed by the brunette.

"Why are you smiling like that, hm? You're not even watching the TikToks." Matt asked, his voice came out slightly hoarse from lack of use and the laziness that hugged his body like a light blanket, caused by the extremely comfortable and warm position.

"Hm? Nothing, I'm just thinking." Y/N smiled shyly, lowering her gaze, suddenly feeling small under the boy's gaze.

"Want to talk about it?" Matt frowned in a mix of curiosity and concern, locking the screen of his phone and throwing it aside, focusing fully on the girl above him.

“I just…" Y/N paused, a sigh escaping her mouth before her teeth caught her bottom lip in a light grip, mentally pondering whether she should answer him truthfully or not.

Matt remained silent, looking at her with a calming gaze, an almost imperceptible smile on his lips, passing her security and comfort.

The low, yellow lights of Matt's room illuminated him perfectly, kissing his skin so that it glowed, his most beautiful features standing out, taking the girl's breath away. Without even realizing it, her mouth opened slightly in awe, losing her trail of thoughts as her orbs traveled over the boy's little details.

The way his longs eyelashes caressed his own cheeks every time he blinked made her want to pass her fingers over them, while his roguish smile pulled light wrinkles at the corner of his lips, that seeming to call out for Y/N's lips.

"I just like your face." The whisper escaped her mouth before her mind even processed what she was about to say, the tips of her fingers gently caressing the space between his eyebrows, running down the bridge of his nose slowly.

Her eyes automatically widened in surprise a few seconds after hearing her own voice utter the words she had never before planned to even say out loud, her movements stopping abruptly.

Matt's calming smile turned into an amused one, his blue eyes traveling over the small reactions Y/N's features displayed in response. He slightly lifted his chin up, touching the tip of his nose to the tip of Y/N's fingers, which she had lightly moved away from his skin after getting the shock of reality.

"I mean, I don't like your face- no, wait, I do, it's beautiful for you, every detail fits you perfectly, I just-"

Matt rolled his eyes playfully before slightly lifting his torso, sealing his lips over Y/N's gently, shushing her instantly. A surprised sound escaped the girl's throat, her mind racing at high speed, trying to process what was happening before finally giving in.

Y/N closed her eyes tightly, her right hand - which was previously caressing the skin of Matt's face - traveled to the back of his neck, tangling her fingers in the curly strands, massaging the area lightly, eliciting a nasal sigh from him.

The brunette's warm tongue caressed her bottom lip momentarily, asking for entrance, which was quickly granted. Their tongues intertwined in an infectious dance.

Y/N's left palm rested on Matt's chest, lifting her upper body slightly, generating more access to the kiss. Matt's hands squeezed her waist, his thumb running under the fabric of her t-shirt, caressing the warm skin of her bare hip gently.

When the air ran out, Matt slowly pulled away, his blue eyes analyzing Y/N's reactions closely. A smile stretched across his cheeks when he saw her eyes still closed, her lips parted as she pushed her chin forward slightly, searching for his touch blindly.

"I like your face too."

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chris @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @iammattswife

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[greenorangevioletgrass]

give me a minute (2/2) | chef luca

pairing: chef luca x ex-wife!reader word count: 6.6k warnings: established former relationship, discussions of separation and divorce, discussions of moving on, luca and reader has a son, brief mention of blood and minor injury, smut 18+ (fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, size kink? idk luca's big, dirty talk, creampie) notes: it's finally here! thank you everyone for your patience, i am a slow writer by nature and life gets in the way, but i finally got around to finish it! happy reading, and do comment, reblog, and send me asks to tell me what you think <;3 ✨follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notifications to get alerted for my latest fics ✨

<<< read part 1 here >>>

06.13 PM

Your apartment has never felt so claustrophobic after that little moment you shared with Luca. You try to stay busy in the next hour —tidying up Alfie’s room even after he made it up, checking your email four times, even doing the laundry, for fuck’s sake— as Luca keeps to himself in the kitchen area. Whether Alfie is obliviously enjoying his screen time or purposely ignoring the weird tension between his parents, you’re not entirely sure. Right now, you’re just grateful that he’s not saying anything at the moment.

The boy simply creeps up to the kitchen counter with a shy eagerness about him. “How long ‘til dinner, Dad?”

“3 more minutes, Chef,” Luca answers, focused on the task at hand, so poker-faced that it makes his son giggle.

“I’m not a chef, you’re a chef!”

“Well, where I work, we call everyone in the kitchen ‘chef.’ Out of respect.”

Alfie climbs onto the dining bench in interest, peering up to watch his father set the dish on the plates meticulously. Luca doesn’t miss how the boy deeply inhales the delicious smell in the air.

“Smells yummy.”

“Thank you,” Luca replies, his excitement seems muted although his heart is soaring. He looks up to find Alfie staring at the plate, chin propped up on his little fist. You’ve always said that he looks just like his dad, but in that moment, Luca only sees you. Alfie has the way your mouth tugs ever so slightly into a smile, the way your eyes shine in childlike wonder. In quiet thoughtfulness.

No Michelin star, earned or retained, would ever amount to this.

“Can you go get your mum and tell her dinner’s ready, please?” He softly asks Alfie, as if not wanting to disrupt this peaceful silence. “Thank you, Chef.”

“Yes, chef.” The six-year-old salutes him and pads over to your home office, which doubles as the guest bedroom. The door is open, and he sees you reorganizing the linen closet with your back to him. He hugs you from behind, startling you.

“Oh!” You put your hand on his head, stroking him lightly. “Hey, bub.”

“Daddy told me to come get you and say dinner’s ready.”

“Gotcha. Thank you.” You half-expect him to run off like he usually does, but he lingers, his arms still wrapped around you. “What’s up, bubbie?”

“Nothing.” He buries his face against your side. “Love you, Mommy.”

“I love you too, bubbie.” This makes you smile, pleasantly surprised at this seemingly random admission.

“Love Daddy too, but don’t tell him that,” he whispers as he looks up at you, putting his forefinger in front of his mouth.

“Why not?”

“Sometimes he gets sad when I say that,” he murmurs. “He doesn’t tell me, but I know it.”

Oh. His playful exterior sometimes makes you forget just how emotionally sensitive he is. And it breaks your heart that he can see through the complicated adult emotions with his childlike eyes. 

“Alfie…” you level with him and pull him closer, “Your dad loves you very very much, and I’m sure he’d be happy to hear you say that. He’s just sad because… he’s been away, and he misses you a lot.”

“He should come home, then.”

It’s so simple, the way Alfie puts it. His Dad comes home and reunites with him and you, and his puzzle would piece together perfectly again. And you all live happily ever after. The end.

The truth, of course, is not so simple. But maybe, just for tonight… Maybe you and Luca can sacrifice a few of your own puzzle pieces. For your baby boy.

So you get back on your feet and guide your son out of the room. “Come on, bub. Let’s see what Daddy cooked for us, hm?”

When you and Alfie turn the corner into the kitchen-living area, Luca is wiping the side of the plate neatly. He smiles at you somewhat nervously, like he’s not sure what to do with himself, so you throw him the figurative olive branch.

“Smells amazing,” you compliment him as you and Alfie take your seats. “What are we having, Chef?”

Luca’s eyes light up and your heart stops. You stopped calling him ‘Chef’ long ago, when the moniker became synonymous with workaholism and neglect. But there’s no venom in the way you say it tonight. Call him sentimental, but it reminds him of the early summer days in the tiny apartment you first shared in Chicago.

Of blueberry pies and barely there bumps.

He has to remind himself that this whole ‘happy family’ shtick is just a charade now, it’s all for Alfie, it doesn’t mean anything for the two of us, but he can’t help but miss this.

And little does he know, so do you.

“Well, buckle up, you guys, because we are having…” He carries the plates over and serves it to you and Alfie with a flourish, “Baked sweet potato wedges with Mediterranean dip, and our pièce-de-résistance… Alfie’s Nuggies.”

It looks nothing short of beautiful, with the wedges fanned out like autumn leaves underneath a colorful burst of cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, olives, and feta cheese. The chicken nuggets are rich golden brown against the brilliant white plate. The splatters of sauce (is that Tahini?) is a hint of thoughtful chaos on the dish.

Your six-year-old let out a little noise of awe and amazement next to you, but no sound escapes you—not for the longest time.

“This is…” you look up at Luca as if he would have the word you’re looking for.

But his blue eyes just look a lot like I love you.

“Thank you,” you ultimately say, with absolutely no pretense whatsoever.

And if he does hear an ‘I love you’ hidden somewhere in there… he hopes he’s not imagining things.

*** 

08:37 PM

If you could travel just a few hours back in time and tell yourself that you would spend the whole day stuck at home in a nasty storm with your son and his father that you’re divorcing—and that you’d be okay with it, you would’ve probably scheduled yourself an MRI scan because clearly something is wrong.

But the night is winding down. Luca is tucking Alfie into bed for the first time in months. You are washing dishes in the quiet accompaniment of steady rain and running water, and everything feels just right.

“He’s out like a light,” Luca informs you quietly as he reemerges from Alfie’s bedroom and stops right by the kitchen counter. “Need a hand?”

“Nah, I’m just about done,” you casually wave him off. “You want anything to drink?”

“Uh… what do you got?”

“Scotch, gin…” you pause, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. The sink tap squeaks a little as you shut it off. “...wine.”

His heart skips. Don’t overthink it, he reminds himself. “Red or white?”

“Take your pick,” you shrug nonchalantly. 

Luca reaches up to see the bottles of wine you have in store, and you try not to pay too much attention as his shirt rides up around the waist—or the sleeve, showing off the remnants of Alfie’s crayon work over his inks… you’re just two co-parents hanging out. It’s normal, right?

“What about the Malbec?” he eventually chooses, taking out the bottle.

He’s always loved Malbec—this particular brand of Malbec you brought him when he first invited you for dinner on your third date.

Don’t overthink it, you remind yourself. “Yeah, sure.”

You pick up two wine glasses and set them down on the dining table, shuffling into the corner bench. Luca settles into the other bench, directly against the kitchen counter, pouring the wine onto both glasses.

“How many bedtime stories did Alfie manage to get out of you?” you pipe up, swirling the purplish liquid around.

“Just one…” he sips on his wine thoughtfully. “Although he made me read it three times.”

You smile, bemused. “Which one was it?”

“‘The Bear Who Did.’”

“Ah, yeah. He’s been into that one lately,” you muse. “But… for what it’s worth, I’m glad he asked you to tuck him in tonight.”

The two of you exchange a soft look. A ceasefire. A truce, at least when it comes to your son. Because you really do want Luca to have a good relationship with Alfie.

“Me too.”

“And I’m sorry you had to… make do with spending the day with Alfie here.”

He shakes his head softly. “Nah, don’t be. I had a good time. It’s nice to just hang out… at home.”

At home, the words echo in your head.

With you, they echo in his, loud and unsaid.

“So, uh… how have you been?”

“Ah, you know how it is. Work is kicking my ass—my current client’s only two blocks away, but the house is a total fixer-upper, and Alfie’s… Alfie.” You don’t want to backtalk your own son, although you both know how trying he can be sometimes. “But it’s all good. My mom helps out with Alfie, and Jess insists that I go out and live a little every now and again.”

“And do you? Live a little?”

“I mean, within reason. I can’t go clubbing ‘til 4am anymore. I think I’m getting old…” you stretch your arms, feeling that soreness just from your daily activities.

Luca grins, raising his glass. “I hear you. I don’t even really go out anymore.”

“Seriously?” 

“Mm-hm.”

You make an incredulous face. It would make sense for you not to go out much, with Alfie and everything. But he was alone, abroad… “Why, though?”

He just shrugs lightly. “I’m working. Whenever I’m off, I mostly just… eat or sleep.”

“I somehow find that hard to believe.” You take a dubious sip. You both know how much Luca enjoys grabbing a cheeky pint. He’s British; it’s in his blood, goddammit.

“Oh come on…”

“You don’t even go out drinking or whatever? Meet people?”

His gaze flashes towards you almost playfully. “Do you?”

Your face falls, not expecting to be caught so off-guard with such an innocent question. And upon seeing that, his face falls. Shit. And with that, the air between you shifts so dramatically.

Stupidly, you still try to save the conversation. “Of course my friends and I go out—”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” His voice darkens, his blue eyes piercing through you. 

This conversation is a long time coming. It’s a natural progression of your relationship—or the lack thereof. You separate, you get divorced, and eventually you move on. Two years is a more than acceptable time to start dating again. And still, you phrase out your next words very carefully.

“I’ve been on dates here and there…”

Luca sucks in a slow, calculated breath. “Does Alfie know?”

You shake your head. “It’s nothing serious so far.”

He’s not sure what’s worse, the fact that it’s nothing serious, or that you’re holding out for something serious in the future.

“Look, we both know this is happening sooner or later…”

“I know,” he quickly recovers—or as much as he can recover. He just stares down the stem of his glass.  “It just… It’s a lot to take in, that’s all.”

“I understand.” The wine feels like gravel down your throat, and the words coming out of your mouth feel like throwing up a boulder.

“Because I do miss you.”

Your eyes immediately dart over to his, as if you’re not sure you heard it right. “Luca…”

“I miss you everyday. I miss us. I miss everything we used to have.”

Your heart catches—no, stops altogether at his admission. “Luca, we can’t do this anymo—”

He swallows thickly, his jaw setting as he braces himself. “I’ve been thinking about it everyday—the whole time I’m away, and frankly, I’m kicking myself over not telling you this sooner.”

“That’s probably just the homesickness talking.” You turn away. This can’t be possible. This can’t be happening. What the fuck?! “It got you reminiscing about the good old days. Give it time, you’ll come around.” You try to maintain a neutral, distant, cold approach to this, although the crack in your voice betrays you.

“No. That’s not it.”

“Then what the fuck is it?”

Your words cut through the quiet apartment like a flash bang. Luca stops dead in his tracks in his shock, and honestly, so do you. Awful silence hushes over the room, and both of you are almost too afraid to break it. Neither of you even dare to move.

After what seems like forever, Luca moves first. A tear escapes his eye, and he wipes it away with his knuckle hurriedly. “Noma should’ve been a dream. And it is, in a way. I guess.” He stares blankly ahead, his life in Copenhagen replaying in his head like it’s on fast-forward, and the playback seems to just highlight how lonely he is there. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m utterly miserable there. I get up and go to work and I just feel empty. Because what’s the point? You and Alfie are way over here, being a family while I’m… doing what?” He wants to tear his hair out, because this is everything he’s dreamed of, and yet he is living the stuff of nightmares. “It makes no fucking sense.”

It makes even less sense to you. You can’t even begin to process this tangled mess in your head. “Luca… we are almost officially divorced. You’re telling me this now? When everything is—”

“I thought I was doing what was best for you. I thought I should just… let you cut your losses and—”

“The best for me? How the fuck did you think giving up was the best way forward for me?” The thought of it burns your eyes with angry tears. They melt, and you don’t do a thing to stop it from running down your face. “You didn’t think to fight for us while you still could?”

Luca’s heart aches to see that. He is dying to reach out and wipe them away, but he can’t. His voice is quiet and small and almost childlike. “I tried. You were just so… sure about the divorce. You had it all figured out. And I… I thought you had no room for me anymore.”

“I had to keep it together. I had to figure it out—for Alfie’s sake. For mine.” You stare at your little potted sunflower on the windowsill. “I don’t see the point in being vulnerable with you anymore when you’re already set on leaving.”

The words have run out. The whirlwind of emotions has passed. What he feels and what he wants is now very clear.

“I shouldn’t have left.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have.” You wished he didn’t. Everyday for the last two years. And everyday you set yourself up for disappointment because, the truth of the matter is, he did leave. So you stop wishing. “Because I don’t know how to come back from this. I really don’t.”

Nothing that comes out of your mouth is unexpected. But it doesn’t hurt any less to hear it from the horse’s mouth. “It’s just… seeing you guys today… We were a family again. And I would do anything for us to be a family again. Please.”

You sigh heavily. “What else is there to do, Luca…?”

“We can, I don’t know, figure something out, go to couples counseling—”

You groan in frustration, Jesus Christ not this again, wanting to tear your hair out when— CRASH! You accidentally knock over your wine glass and it shatters as it hits the floor. “Shit…”

“Mommy?” Alfie calls you from inside his room, sleepy but alert.

The two of you freeze just before you can move out of your seat. Afraid the slightest of noises would rattle your son.

“Yes, bubbie?” you try to sound bright and normal. Maybe if you can convince him that everything’s fine, he won’t come running in panic. 

“What was that?”

“I just knocked over a glass, kiddo, everything’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

You and Luca wait a few seconds with bated breath. One, two, three… ten seconds go by, and there’s no movement in the bedroom.

The coast is clear.

You scramble down to pick up the shards of glass. The spilled wine looks like blood in the dim light of the room. It’s a painful reminder of the broken pieces of your former life, the casualties. He quickly follows suit, as if struggling to put it all back together. The irony is not lost on either of you, you’re sure of that.

“It’s fine, Luca. I got it, I—” a sharp piece of glass accidentally cuts your palm as you pick it up in hurry. “Fuck!”

“You okay?” He takes your hand as quick as lightning, wanting to inspect the wound, but you snatch it away.

“I’m fine.” You get up on your feet, teetering over to the sink, away from the crime scene, careful not to step on any piece of glass.

Yet he still follows you, walking over to where you’re standing now. “Come on. Let me just take a look.” He reaches out to your wrist, running little circles with his thumb to ease your grasp.

“It’s not a big deal…” you let him look anyway, you figure it’s easier to just let him do his thing than to argue your way out of it. 

His calluses are brittle against your palm, but he handles you with the gentlest touch. The wound is not too big or too deep, but the sight of blood marring your palm makes his heart drop. There’s no visible piece stuck to it, that’s a good sign, he thinks. He rips off some paper towel and wets it on the sink, and softly dab at the gash, cleaning the wound and wiping the blood off.

You grit your teeth, not wanting to show any sign of pain although it stings. “It’s just a little cut…” your tone bears less and less conviction, as if you have no energy left to argue with him on such a small matter.

There’s a very particular way his eyebrows arch when he’s deep in thought. The left one always sits slightly higher than the right. Blue eyes fixed on the object of his focus. A minute gesture behind the chaos in his head. “You need a Band-Aid,” he points out. 

“It’s in the—”

Luca is already opening the drawer next to the stove, taking out a packet of a Star Wars-themed Band-Aid. He still remembers where everything is, and you can’t tell whether the ache in your chest is a good or bad thing.

He puts the Band-Aid on your cut, then takes your hand close to kiss it better, like he used to do.

“Um.” You freeze in your tracks, taken aback. And it seems he’s just as equally as taken aback by his own action. He is flushed with embarrassment, and you feel your face growing hot as well.

He’s the first to break the awkward silence, quiet and tentative. “I’ll clean up the mess. You just hang tight.”

It seems so mundane, sweeping broken glass and cleaning the floor. His body registers it as a simple muscle memory—he must’ve cleaned up messes on this very spot a million times. But his heart is heavy with the burden of your history, and all the pain that comes with your separation. He might not be able to put the pieces back together, but maybe he can clean up the mess and make it nice again for you.

And all the while, you’re stuck to the kitchen counter, watching him so effortlessly reacquainted with his former home. It’s as if he never left. For a confusing moment, it feels like home again. How did you manage without this view, this presence for so long?

Luca puts away the debris in the trash, hidden away in another kitchen drawer next to you, and hovers in front of you, as if wanting to reach out and touch you… but too afraid you’ll push him away.

“Does it still hurt?”

You can’t tear your eyes off of his. The little cut on your hand is but a dull ache now, but the insides of your chest feels like it’s been mangled beyond repair. You burst into tears, sobs ripping through the seams.

His arms wrap around you, keeping your tattered pieces together. Your face is buried in his chest, surrounded by soft cotton and earthy perfume, and your first thought is you can’t remember the last time you were in his arms like this. You rake your mind through all the memories, all the times you hugged each other hello and goodbye and all the times in between, and you can’t remember the last time you stopped, why would you stop—

“My love…” Luca’s voice soothes you, so quietly murmured against your forehead with a soft kiss, yet rings so clear in your ears. He cups your face with both hands, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. “It’s okay... I got you.”

The palm of his hand grazes your lips, and you kiss it the way he kisses your Band-Aid earlier. You have no energy left to fight whatever is going on inside you. You don’t understand the nagging urge to be away from him, when being close to him feels this good. You miss his touch and his voice and his face, and you’re so overwhelmed with longing that you close the distance between your lips and his.

Luca gasps when you kiss him—and it feels like the first breath he’s drawn in two years. Your lips are just as he remembers, just as warm and inviting and familiar, and he relishes coming home to them tonight. He didn’t think he would be so lucky ever again, but now you’re here, kissing life back into him again.

Against your better judgment, you stumble into the bedroom, careful to make as little sound as possible as you tread down the hallway. Still tangled in each other. Refusing to let go even for a second. His five o’clock shadow scratches your skin, following the trail of his lips down your neck.

You push him into bed and climb on top of him without a single thought. You need him close, closer than the past two years, closer than now, and your clothes feel like they’re in the way. Of his hands, of his mouth, of his warmth…

You tear your dress off and throw it away, and he stops in his tracks. He has every part of you memorized, every curve and every ridge, every notch of your stretch marks, every inch of your C-section scar from Alfie’s birth… and yet he’s looking at you for the first time all over again.

“Beautiful…” it escapes his mouth just like that, and you kiss him senseless in return. You worry that if you stop, the moment will pass and this whole thing turns out to be just an illusion.

Or worse, a mistake.

You tug his t-shirt over his head, trying not to linger on his broad chest too long. He gets the idea—he is dying to say something, but doesn’t—and just unclasps your bra in response. He keeps his mouth busy by kissing and licking and sucking your newly exposed breasts.

It’s not that you haven’t been touched like this in a while; it’s just that you haven’t been touched by him like this for so long.. “Luca…”

He never thought he’d hear that again. His name in a wanton sigh, uttered by the lost love of his life. He’s not one to waste his chance. “It’s okay. I got you, my love. I got you.”

Because for the first time in a long time, it’s true. He’s got you. He’s got your body underneath him, your nipple in his mouth, your sweet sex in his hand.

God.

You’re so soft, so warm, so wet against his fingers. The little stuttered moan you let out sounds absolutely heavenly. He remembers exactly the last time he was here.

Christmas Eve, two years ago. 

Things had been tense long before that, but Luca was home and able to spend some time with his wife and kid at last. You didn’t seem all that chuffed having him around—whether he was here or not brought out that “neutral look of displeasure” from you these days— but at least you didn’t pull away when he rested his head on your shoulder as the three of you watched Jurassic Park (Alfie’s all-time favorite). Didn’t roll your eyes and turn away when he kissed you and wished you happy Christmas before bed.

And he wanted so desperately for you to openly want him again.

So he tentatively deepened the kiss and reiterated his love for you in every inch of your body that he could get his hands on. Trying to convince you that he was still here. Trying to convince himself that with every orgasm he pried out of you, that you still wanted him there.

But you just… laid there and watched. Hands locked in on the sheets, not even touching him. Motionless as he went through the motions of his thrusts. Numb as he touched and kissed and fucked you the way you used to like. He was fighting a losing battle. He might as well have been making love to a ghost. 

“Luca…” Your breathless voice snaps him out of his own intrusive thoughts, more clear and alive and real than any memory of you posing no desire for him.

“I— yeah, sorry. I just…” he shakes off his own thoughts.

“Hurry up, come on…” you needily thrust yourself into his hand.

“You sure?”

No, and neither does he. But at this point, you’re much too stubborn about your decision in the divorce and much too prideful to admit that you want him back and maybe just a tad too eager to make a mistake with him.

So you nod your head yes, and with a searing kiss, he fingerfucks you the way you needed him to. 

“Oh, God… fuck…” you sigh under the undoing of his fingers. It’s like he never forgot how to work your body. His fingers play a pattern on your clit that makes you sing. And when one slides into you, crooking and curling against your silky heat…

“Luca, I— now.”

He unlatches his mouth from your nipple almost begrudgingly, as if too sweet to part with you. “Not yet, baby. We can’t…”

“What, why?”

“Because…” he nips at the smooth flesh of your chest thoughtfully. How can he explain it to you in a way that makes sense? “I want…” to take as much time with you as possible, he adds another finger inside you deliciously slow. “I need…” to feel you in every way first, he chants in his head as he kisses you through your orgasm.

Your resolve is slipping, but the craving is as ravenous as ever. You try to squirm in protest anyway. “But…”

“Please.” His lips press against your forehead, eyes squeezed shut. “I got you, okay?”

His blue eyes meet yours, as familiar as the sky you’ve walked under your whole life. As sure as day. And before you realize it, you find yourself nodding along.

Watching him slither further down your body. Mouth paving the way between the valleys of your breasts, up the diamond-hard tops of your nipples.

Down your torso.

Between your nether lips.

You don’t remember the last time you did this either. Memories of attempts to rekindle the romance flash before your eyes. The nights that he climbed into bed late at night after work, still smelling like chocolate or mint or whatever ingredient he was working with that day. Waking you up with the parting of your legs and hushed kisses saying, “Missed you so much, baby…”

“Right there. Yes…” you pant as he laps you up where you’re dripping, catching every drop and coaxing more at the same time.

His eyes close, and he swallows back a needy groan. “Come for me, baby.”

The words shoot right into your core, and you’re suddenly overcome with the waves of pleasure running through you, grinding your hips into his mouth shamelessly. Has he always been so greedy in the way he ate you out?

Your head is spinning with need and you hope the broken words you string up are comprehensible enough for him. “Luca, come on, I can’t—”

“No, please—” he seems to understand just fine, but still he shakes his head and buries his face deeper into you.

“Luca…”

“Wait, just let me—”

So insistent. So stubborn. So… needy. You grasp a fistful of hair on the back of his head. Both heaving, you breathe out,

“Please.” 

The word stops him in his tracks. But it’s not so much the word as it is the gravity that comes with it. Whatever the two of you are doing, whatever you’re feeling is beyond words at this point.

It’s just you and him and this need.

And as much as he wants—needs— to satisfy his hunger, there’s just no way of stopping you anymore. Truth be told, he’s not even sure why he’s been stalling you in the first place. Not when you’re so eager to tug his clothes off and touch him absolutely everywhere. To stroke him, and taste him…

“No, baby.” He stops you just before you slither down his body, settling you back on the bed and caging you underneath him.

You throw him a look, indignant. If he’s gonna hold it off some more, you swear to God—

“No, I…” he kisses you hard, hoping you’ll get that he wants you too. More than anything. And that he’ll give you what you want. Hell, he would give you anything if he could come back to this again for the rest of his life. “Just trust me, okay?”

You marvel at the sight before you. So tall and broad and sturdy. With dark blond locks tousled in passion and eyes lidded from lust and longing, and it makes your heart stop because… there it is.

Love.

As much as you shut it out and as much as you avoid it, love is permanently etched to his actions. Tattooed onto the smallest of things. In the way he kisses your temple softly, and the way he caresses your skin as he aligns himself against you, and the way he holds you as he pushes in…

“Luca…” you gasp sharply.

He stops halfway into you, his eyes searching your face with compassion. “You okay?”

You’re aching and craving the stretch of him all at once, but you wouldn’t have it any other way, so you ultimately nod your head. I’m okay. 

And he knows that deep down. He feels the same. Soothed and tormented by your very presence, although he can’t help but ask, “Do you want me to stop?” Please don’t ask me to stop…

You shake your head quickly. Neither of you would ever dream of it. You would take everything—the weight and the sting of it all— and he would leave everything behind just to have this again.

Your hips colliding again in a frenzy of a rhythm you haven’t played in so long—still remembering every beat like it’s your own pulse. Your walls gripping him like you wouldn’t let him go.

He shudders a little. “I’m gonna come if you keep doing that…”

“I don’t care,” you murmur into his neck with a kiss, “Come.”

“What…?” He can’t have heard that right… right?

“I want you to.”

“Jesus…” he breathes out. “I wanna make this last, baby—”

You shake your head again and wrap your legs around him almost demandingly. “I want you to come inside me and fill me the fuck up… want you dripping down my legs… please…”

“Fuck!” The images flash before his eyes faster than he can stop his hands from grabbing you by the hips, slamming himself into you. 

Nor can he stop himself from coming deep inside you.

There’s no way to describe the way he feels at that moment. The way tension peaks and snaps into release. How it brings you into your climax as well. Your lips must be swollen from the assault of your own teeth as you hold back the filthy noises coming out of you. You don’t mind the building ache in your thigh muscles, because as soon as that warmth fills you up, your body is overcome by waves of bliss.

“Fuck…” he flops back onto his side of the bed—the right side—and quickly gathers you in his chest. It’s an effortless little maneuver, making sense at last as you lay half on top of him.

Your hand finds his—more puzzle pieces coming together as he fills the spaces between your fingers. You bring it to your lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Surprised to find the gold wedding band still adorning his ring finger.

***

9:56 PM

“Was that really your first time since we… you know?” Your murmured question rings loud in the absence of the rain. The storm has finally passed, but neither of you move—neither even dare to bring it up— afraid to ruin the moment. 

“It was.”

“Not even in a casual, ‘no strings attached’ kind of situation?”

“No.” He looks almost embarrassed to admit it, but there is no hesitation in his answer.

“Wow…” your heart sinks. Is it possible to feel good and bad at the same time?

Luca pauses for a moment. You can see the conflict brewing in his head. “Did you?”

You don’t have to answer. The sheer silence you take is an answer enough.

The confirmation feels like shit, but he tries to stay neutral. His thumb stills on the back of your hand. “Can I ask how many?”

“Gosh, does that even matter?” You sigh. There’s another argument coming—you can feel it.

“No, I just… I wanna know.”

“You don’t really wanna know.”

“Is it a lot?”

“I mean…”

“How many?” 

You take in a sharp breath. There’s no way out of this now. If the truth is what he wants, then the truth is what he shall get. “Twelve.”

He tenses up next to you. The whole world stops, and you can’t help but think, it’s over. There is no way this marriage is salvageable now. “What…?”

“I know that it’s a big number, and I know you might be upset—”

“That is a big number.” He doesn’t say anything about the latter part of her sentence, but it’s obvious that he’s upset, too. “I just… why?”

“I was trying to get over you.” It’s a pathetic answer, but that’s all it is to it. “I couldn’t sleep in this bed for months. I just couldn’t. Slept on the guest bed instead,” you motion at the next room, “and then one day, I couldn’t take it anymore. It’s like a switch flipped inside my brain, and I needed to—”

“What?”

“I needed to… overwrite the memories of you,” you admit feebly. “On this bed. On my body.”

Knife, meet heart. He’s not sure what answer he was expecting, but whatever it was, this hurts so much more. “And did it work?”

“Up to a point…” you pause, a sad smile in realization. “It’s funny. I keep getting bits and pieces of you somehow.”

“What do you mean?”

You close your eyes, your memories flashing, reminding you that every single time reminds you of Luca one way or another. “It’s… somebody’s perfume, or the timbre of their voice, or the way they hold my hand…”

“And you see me in them?” 

“Every single one.”

“Jesus…” Luca finds himself relieved and choked up at the same time. He doesn’t want you to ever get rid of your memories of him, but at the same time, it’s painful to hear that you tried anyway.

And you tried very hard.

“I’m sorry.”

He hums, and you realize… he hasn’t let go of your hand. Not once. Not even after your little confession. It makes the argument easier, knowing he’s there. It’ll be easier to part with him again after tonight, you hope, knowing you both did your best to understand. Why you needed to be apart. Why you did the things you did.

The armor has been shed, and the two of you are now naked, in every sense of the word.

Luca turns to look at you, studying your profile. He remembers the last time he was here.

He had just told you about Denmark. Stupid of him to feel excited, to tell you he’d just been offered his dream job, to ask you and Alfie to move someplace new with him, because it turned into a fight.

Worse than a fight; it was a death sentence.

You turned away and stared at the ceiling, and told him you couldn’t do this anymore.

And in some fucked up way, Luca feels as if he’d been brought back in time, and this is his one chance to make it right. So he asks you,

“Do you still love me?” 

You breathe out, heart clenching because in spite of yourself, “I do.”

“Do you want us to try again?”

“Luca…” you sigh heavily, “How would that even work? Alfie and I are here, and you have Noma–”

“No more Noma. I’m giving that up.” The answer is straightforward, and he surprises himself over how easily it rolls off of his tongue. How right.

“What? You wouldn’t…” Your face falls as you turn to him.

“I would. And I am,” he says firmly. “Look, I’ve thought about this for months now. I can’t do Noma anymore, I need to be home.” His gaze softens, and you feel the pattern running on the back of your hand again.

Slow and steady and certain.

The tear rolls off the corner of your eye and onto the pillow with the tiniest drop. “I wanted you to come home…”

“Then let me come home. Please?”

“I want to. I just…” you reach out and cup his face tentatively. “I just want to make sure that we’re not doing anything rash.”

His eyes light up. The only thing that matters is that you want him home, too. It takes him everything to let his logical part of the brain take control. “How about this, then?” Luca pauses thoughtfully. “We’ll take a minute. For me to sort out everything at Noma, find a replacement… and for us to figure out if this is really what we wanna do.

“If it starts to feel like a bad idea, maybe we should rethink it. But if it feels good… maybe we can give it another shot.

“And in the meantime, we’ll talk. We’ll FaceTime and… figure out what the hell to say to our lawyers.”

That makes you grimace. You were supposed to have another meeting with your divorce lawyers. Tomorrow is going to be awkward. But awkward beats saying goodbye to the man you’ve always loved, right? It’s a small price to pay.

“What do you say, baby?” He looks at you with all the hope that he has. “Just give me a minute to get everything sorted and then I’ll come home.”

You smile tearfully. “A minute is not enough… how about a month, hm?”

“Yeah, that makes more sense, actually.” He chuckles sheepishly. “A month. I can do that.”

“Good.” You sidle up to him and kiss him where his heart is. You’re willing to settle for having him just for the night, but you can’t wait until he comes home to you for good.

You hope he will.

[totothewolff]

Daddy's Little Pet

+18 | one shot | Toto x reader | smut, daddy kink, size kink, power play.

Summary: You had come to Brackley expecting a generic interview, not a deep dive into Toto's lovemaking life. Author's note: As a reply to the request made by @ xoxo_lily at The Wolff Pack Discord Server.

More Toto Wolff fics right here > Masterlist

The second you entered the empty boardroom where Toto was waiting for you, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

Your heart pounded hard as you gazed at the well-dressed boss. Toto's tall, big, powerful muscled silhouette claimed your eyes immediately. He looked even more massive in person.

A hiss of nervousness curled in your stomach as you approached the table while grabbing the seat next to him.

When he slid his chair to face you, just centimeters apart from you, you felt tiny. Even though both of you were sat down he towered over you with a notorious difference.

Oh, if you could bury your head in that broad and muscular chest in front of you.

Since Toto's aura of power mesmerized you, and your curiosity and attraction for him piqued, you decided to do an article on him for the upcoming issue of GearGrl.

Armed with a script and a microphone, you made your way to his private boardroom, where he takes video calls and deals with sponsors, press, and guests.

The smell of polished oak and leather filled the air, creating an alluring scent that is as arousing for you as the man himself.

His piercing eyes sized you up the second the door swung open and you stepped in.

You extended your hand at him, trying to hide the trembling nerves, rocking a bit in your chair. "Mr. Wolff, my name's Y/N. I'm a journalist from GearGrl magazine, and I'd love to chat with you for a feature article," you smiled, hoping this would ease your tension but went all the way around, the minute Toto placed his big warm hand on yours your mind went wild.

Toto's hand is double size yours. Fuck! He only added a little pressure on the handshake and you are already wetting yourself.

What would be like to have his entire body weight crushing you down against the sheets?

Toto's gaze shifted from your body towards your hand, squeezing it a bit. "Nice to meet you, little one. I don't have much time today. But, if you have specific questions about our team strategy or sponsorships, I'll be glad to answer," he said, his voice deep and commanding.

You swallowed hard and decided to push your luck. You tilted your chin upwards, meeting his gaze with a newfound boldness, he stared down at you due to the height difference, and a little smirk formed on his lips before you dared.

"Actually, I was hoping to pepper you with some questions about your life beyond the track. Your passions, your hobbies, that sort of thing."

A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes before they narrowed on you. "I don't see how that is relevant to the teams' performance or our supporters," he said, his words snipped.

"Well, I believe that a man as influential as yourself, Toto, has a life worth exploring. Your devoted fans crave a glimpse into your world, and this interview would offer them just that."

The corner of his mouth twitched in a rueful half-smile as if you had struck a nerve. "Smart move, little one."

Then you pushed again, "Also you could inspire young enthusiasts by offering them a picture of a well-rounded individual."

"My stories might not paint the perfect picture.

I have made mistakes and faced challenges along the way," he warned you.

"No one is perfect, Toto, and that's what makes humans interesting." you leaned forward slightly, your curiosity in full bloom. Toto shifted his position and relaxed his body, sensing you getting closer. His big muscular tights spread a bit, and he rested his big hands on them.

"What kind of challenges did you face, if I may ask, Toto?" you dare.

A heavy sigh, "When I first took over as the TP at Williams, many doubted my capabilities. They saw me as nothing but a reckless, inexperienced playboy. But the team rallying behind me and our eventual success at the track fueled my persistence," Toto explained, his gaze lost in your lips. "I've fought battles at work and in my personal life, learning valuable lessons along the way."

Intrigued by his reveal, you asked, "Can you tell me about those battles in your personal life?"

"I don't know if my personal trials will make a good story. Still, there's one I could mention. When my monogamist first marriage began to crumble, my focus on building my career inadvertently added fuel to that fire. I found myself alone and devastated, with my kids miles away in a boarding school," Toto said, his voice heavy with emotion.

Immersed in his story, you wanted to know more. "Did finding love again play a role in your healing process and later success?"

He took a long moment before meeting your eyes again, the intensity of his stare was crazy. "Yes, love found me just when I needed it the most. I met a woman named Susie, who was warm, inviting, and able to understand my urges." The emphasis and deep voice Toto made saying those words, provoked you to quiver. "The ones my previous partners never could." He chuckled softly. "I'm not sure if it was fate or sheer luck."

"Your urges?" your voice echoed throughout the empty room, drowned only by the sound of your accelerated heartbeats.

"I have a constant hunger not only for winning, I..." his eyes are already lifting your skirt.

"What do you crave for?" your voice trembled, enjoying the forthcoming invitation.

"I can show you" his voice was deep and one of his long big fingers was already playing with the hem of your skirt.

Then you dare to intertwine your hand with Toto's as a "yes, please show me", you wanted so badly to lick those big long fingers of his and feel them inside your tiny pussy fingering you relentlessly. His Rolex watch sparkled under the lights and the ring on his right hand shined.

The conversation took an unexpectedly intimate turn. You couldn't explain it, but there was something about the way Toto spoke that tugged at your deepest desires.

Perhaps it was the boldness of the thing he just revealed, that Susie allowed him to have his cravings.

Whatever it was, you couldn't deny your body's response to his words. Every pulse of your heart echoed in your pussy, leaving you flushed and yearning.

You had come to Brackley expecting a generic interview, not a deep dive into Toto's lovemaking life.

He guided you by the hand back to his office and onto the bulky trendy sofa. He pushed you down on it with ease, as if you were paper-thin.

"I won't be an easy lover to forget. But I don't do commitment or romance, only with Susie" he said.

You nodded in understanding, giving him what could only be described as a sultry smile. You wanted him to know you understood well what both of you were up for.

"My little pet" he growled before reaching for you. Your whole body trembled with anticipation as he touched your face gently, swiping his thumb across your lips. Toto was on his feet, making you feel even more small.

You parted your lips slightly, licking his thumb finger, the throbbing in your pussy escalating to an unbearable level.

Toto took this as his cue and pulled you closer, shifting your position with a firm and quick grip, leaving you now knees on the sofa and ass pinned against him.

Lifting your skirt, he rubbed himself against your tiny panties. Oh, the way he manhandles you!

You could feel his hardness pressed against your ass, his arousal evident. He lowered his lips to your ear, whispering huskily, "So you wanted a peek into the raw and real Toto Wolff? I warn you I will not hold back, my little pet." His gaze held yours with the confidence of a predator filling its hunger, and you licked your lips, letting him know you were ready for him.

Toto snaked his hand around, tangling his fingers through your hair, roughly tugging your head back to expose the hollow of your throat.

Your pulse hammered wildly under his harsh caresses as he trailed his lips from your jawline to that sensitive dip.

"Fuck," you gasped, unable to contain the reaction to his touch, knowing this was reckless, zero professional, and wrong but too far gone to care.

Despite his warning, you wanted Toto in a way that defied all logic and you were eager to prove you could handle whatever he gave you.

You could feel his erection trapped against the zipper of his pants. Unable to resist any longer, you reached out, popping the fastener of his trousers. In one swift motion, you pushed his pants and boxers down.

His cock sprung free, thick and long, jutting out from a pair of toned, muscular thighs. The sight of him left you breathless and overwhelmed with lust.

"Fuck, you are going to destroy my pussy with that cock!" you whispered.

He smiled smugly, obviously pleased with your reaction.

You couldn't help but stare as he stood there, completely naked and unabashed. He looked like a Greek god, powerful, perfectly sculpted, and unapologetically male.

"I think I deserve a bit of a peak into your personal side too," Toto murmured, his eyes alight with playfulness. His words caught you off guard, and you raised your eyebrows playfully.

"Remember when I thought I was here for work?" you said and chucked.

"Come suck me, pet" he gestured to you, and you immediately turned around, your ass now on the couch, sitting right in front of him, his dick at your face level due to your height difference.

You started gripping the solid length of Toto's aroused cock, you curved your fingers around him, stroking him gently, eager to satisfy his desperation.

Toto sucked a breath between his teeth, his fingers tightening in your hair as you pumped your hand along his length. Your hand looked tiny around his fat cock. Getting already nervous about how would you fit that thing inside your mouth.

Toto's hand gripped the base of his cock, guiding it towards your lips. "Open wide," he commanded, his voice thick with desire. Hunger burned in his gaze, and you could practically see the animal instincts of the man taking over. "Suck my cock," he demanded you, the forcefulness of his words sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

You parted your lips as wide as possible, allowing him to slide his length into your mouth. You gagged slightly as he pushed deeper, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. Tears welled in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall.

Toto let out a low groan of satisfaction, his hips thrusting forward as he began to fuck your mouth.

You could feel his cock slid deeper, stretching you past the point of comfort. But you weren't complaining.

His salty taste filled your mouth, making you moan your approval. Toto slid his hands into your hair, gripping it tightly as he fucked your mouth in earnest.

You gagged again, but this time you didn't try to pull away. Instead, you relaxed your throat, taking him deeper into your mouth. You could feel him swell even further, and you slid your tongue along his shaft, creatively slurping at him.

Your eyes were so watery by now, but you didn't dare stop. You'd never seen a man look so entranced as Toto did at this moment, his eyes hooded and head rolled back in the pleasure of your mouth on him.

"Fuck, you take me so good, pet" he grunted, hips thrusting as his length slid in and out of your hot, wet mouth. "Keep going, my little pet, just like that."

You continued to pleasure him in this way until he suddenly pulled away with a hiss. Pre-cum glistened on your lips as you blinked up at him, seeking his approval, he looked so proud of you.

You looked like a total mess, all red on the cheeks, saliva all over your chin, watery eyes, and messy hair.

"Now to the couch, pet" he whispered darkly as he bent, lifting you with ease and tossing you onto the sofa.

You bounced once and landed right in the center.

The air left your lungs as he climbed on top of you, towering over you in all his glory, pushing your body against the fabric, your stomach and hips feeling the pain of Toto's body prisoning you.

His strong arms cupped your head, tilting your face towards his. Toto leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a hungry kiss. You gasped as his tongue delved between your lips, tilting your head to receive it, your fingers dragging up the muscles in his arms, tracing his veins, he tasted like espresso and the faint scent of stale mint, a carnal, masculine flavor that left you panting and breathless.

Your kiss deepened as he moved away, nibbling at your lips and the sensitive skin beneath your ear, causing you to whimper, with delight.

His hands were everywhere, exploring your curves and leaving behind a burning trail of where his mouth would follow.

"Toto, please," you begged, desperately craving to feel him inside you. Your mind was full of desire, and all you could concentrate on was the hard friction his erect cock set off through your body.

No response at the call of his name, so you dared.

"Daddy, please," you moaned, squirming beneath him. Immediately his hands pinned yours to the sofa. You arched into his touch, savoring the way he finally was exposing you, getting out of the way all clothing items between you.

Toto's gaze immediately fell between your legs, hungry and unyielding, lust radiated off him, staring at your wet folds.

His free hand caressed your breast, pinching your nipple between his thumb and index finger. You couldn't help but gasp as he explored you.

You could feel the dampness spreading along your thighs, revealing just how much Toto excited you. Your breath hitched as he moved lower, circling his thumb around your clit.

"Oh, Daddy," you cried out, your voice barely more than a whimper.

A low growl escaped his throat before he replaced his thumb with two fingers, pushing them inside you, tasting, teasing, and sending you into a whirlwind of emotions.

He fingered you hard, getting you wet and splashing drops around and provoking soaking sounds, causing you to cry out in pleasure.

The mix of pain and pleasure coursing through you was dizzying, till you were completely out of breath and begging him to allow you a breather.

Before the head of his big cock burst through the barrier of your tight entrance, stretching your pussy wider than you ever thought possible. Your eyes went wide as you felt him penetrating you.

You gasped, feeling the intense sensation of being filled to the brim. "Daddy!" you moan loud, your pussy throbbed around his cock as it slid in further. "Daddy!"

Toto growled a low, animalistic sound that sent shivers down your spine. He pulled back slightly, then thrust you again and harder, this time driving deeper, ripping open your tight pussy even more.

You cried out, a mix of discomfort and delight coursing through you as he took you, possessing you in a way you only had dreamt of.

"Fuck, you're so tight, pet," he grunted, his voice thick with desire. "Your pussy is so fucking tiny."

His cock slammed into you relentlessly, and you moaned in pleasure with each rough thrust, feeling your body buried more and more. Your stomach pressed hard against the furniture's fabric. You felt the sofa creaking.

Toto's fingers dug into your hips, leaving angry red marks on your skin. You wouldn't have it any other way.

He picked up the pace, his hips slapping against your ass. You clung to the sofa, your nails digging into the textile as he pounded you harder and harder.

You let out a strangled cry as he hit the spot deep inside you. His name spilled from your lips, a desperate plea for more.

Toto responded by increasing the pace of his pounding, his cock hitting you with a savage, powerful intensity that started to hurt. You will be limping tomorrow.

You could feel every inch of him filling you, stretching you open.

With your lips locked in a fiery kiss, you felt a wave of moisture flood between your legs in anticipation of your climax.

"Such a good little pet" he growled, his voice thick with lust. You kept feeling the sensitive humid folds of your pussy stretch to accommodate him, engulfing him inch by delicious inch.

Your entire body felt like it was on fire, and you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second, teetering on the edge of release, your body tensing as you got closer and closer.

"Daddy, please, I can't take much more of this." you moaned, gasping for air, buried under his entire weight.

He pulled back, his cock coming free with a slick, wet sound. You felt a surge of disappointment and confusion, but before you could even begin to process what had happened, he grabbed you by the hips and flipped you over.

Your hands and back landed roughly on the couch as Toto pulled your hips up, his big hands grabbing your ass tightly and pushing you towards him with such force. The change in position left you feeling utterly exposed and vulnerable, your pussy slit in full display for him.

Toto stepped closer, his hard cock brushing against your slit. You could feel the heat radiating from his length as he leaned down, his hips hovering above your pussy. "You want daddy to fuck his little pet like this?" he asked, his voice low.

"Yes," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please, daddy. I need to cum."

"Good pet," he murmured, his voice full of lust.

With a swift thrust, he buried himself inside you, making you cry out in pleasure-pain. Your muscles stretched and clenched around him, struggling to accommodate his girth.

Toto didn't give you a moment to adjust, pulling almost all the way in, and then out, before slamming back into you.

You were still sensitive from the earlier fucking, and you whimpered at the unexpected intensity.

"Oh, fuck, pet" Toto grunted, his fingers digging into your hips, rocking you towards him. He started pistoning into you, his massive cock splitting you wide open again, filling you completely.

With each thrust, you could feel yourself losing control, your sanity slipping away as he dominated you. Toto's powerful big hands gripped your small hips, pulling you back into him.

"Fuck, you wanted this, my little pet, don't you," Toto growled, his breath hot. "I can feel you clenching around me, trying to milk my cock. You're such a little slut, aren't you? Taking my cock like this and begging Daddy for more." Toto grunted, his balls smacking against your clit.

You could feel yourself getting close to the edge, your toes curling with each punishing thrust. "Yes, yes, oh god yeah!" you cried out, your voice hoarse from the pleasure-pain of being so thoroughly fucked.

Toto seemed to take this as a sign to speed up, you could feel him hitting your cervix with every stroke, a painful pleasure to possess you entirely.

"Yes, oh fuck yes, Daddy!" you screamed, your voice echoed through the office.

Your body began to tingle all over, a sure sign that you were close to orgasm. You held on to the sofa edge.

Toto's thrusting became erratic, his breathing ragged as he neared his own release. You could feel your climax building, every nerve ending trembling with the anticipation of release.

"Come for me, pet," Toto groaned.

Your legs were shaking, your muscles trembling, but you held on, desperate to cling to this incredible moment with every fiber of your being.

The room seemed to spin as you tried to focus on the sensation of Toto's cock as it filled you, pounding your body with a raw force that left you feeling small and powerless.

His fingers twisted in your hair as he traced your jaw with his tongue while his cock slid in and out of you.

You let out a moan as he angled himself deeper inside you, hitting your G-spot dead on. He started moving his hips in a slow grind, pressing every inch of himself against your inner walls.

"I bet you feel my dick stretching you? You like it when daddy owns you like this, hmm?"

You could only nod, unable to form coherent words as you submitted to him.

Toto's hand reached down, two fingers teasing your clit in time with his powerful thrusts. You arched your back, impaling yourself even further onto his hard shaft, urging him to continue the delicious torment.

He obliged instantly, expertly manipulating your clit as his cock ravaged your pussy, your hips bucking into every forceful thrust. Your pussy clenched and unclenched, desperately trying to hold onto him.

"Daddy, I'm cumming," you gasped.

Toto's thrusting became even more unhinged, his sweat-slicked body slapping against yours. You could feel him pulsing inside you, and you knew he was holding back too, waiting for you to go over the edge first.

"Fuck, call me daddy when you come," Toto groaned, his voice a guttural growl.

You felt your orgasm arriving, your muscles tensing as you let out a guttural cry. "Oh, daddy!" you moaned hard, as you finally came apart.

Toto groaned, his hips bucking as he sank himself to the hilt inside you, the pulse of your orgasm milked him, coaxing him closer and closer to his own release.

"Fuck, pet," he panted. "I'm so fucking close."

"Fill me up, Daddy," you gasped, still riding the waves of your orgasm. "Give it to me."

Toto's whole body tensed. With one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside you and let out a primal roar as he came hard.

You could feel the hot sprays of his release filling you up, and you moaned in pleasure as he emptied himself into you. Toto's cock throbbed and pulsed.

You stayed like that for a moment, your bodies heaving and trembling as you rode out the aftershocks of our intense climaxes.

Toto's body weight lifted from you, his sweaty chest pushing away slowly, as he reluctantly pulled out of you.

Your pussy throbbed and pulsed where he had filled it moments before, and you could feel his cum still trickling out of you, slicking up your inner thighs. You could feel the sweat drying on your skin, and your heartbeat beginning to return to normal.

"You were incredible, pet. I knew you would be, from the moment you entered." Toto said.

You smiled, still catching your breath as the words of praise washed over you like a warm embrace.

"I know, I'm daddy's little pet, after all."

Join us at The Wolff Pack Discord Server > https://discord.com/invite/tpgArxqbfd

[princessbrunette]

personally, you enjoyed heatwaves. especially now that farmhand!jj was around. it means you got to flounce around all day, getting away with wearing little to no clothing, hanging out in the barn because it’s ‘cooler in there’— a fact no one could argue against, and eat a bunch of homegrown fruit. who would complain?

“you sure you don’t want none, jayj?” you refer to the fruit platter sat on your lap. it comes out all spitty and garbled through the mouthful of cherries you have, the juice of it leaking down your lips, staining your chin and dripping into your chest. you’d always been a messy eater.

“aint it a lil unprofessional of me to eat on the job?” his speech is the tiniest bit muffled too, but only as he is gripping a toothpick between his teeth as he lazily paints the new fence inside the barn white. you want to comment on how he didn’t seem to care last week when he ate you out on the floor of the barn, but bite your tongue, opting for subtlety.

“well no one’s gotta know…” you swing your legs from the short haybale you sit on. when you said things like that, things with such a double entendre— it made you very hard to resist. especially when you’re sat there in your ‘heatwave appropriate’ attire — being that tiny, tight gingham bikini top and denim shorts that jj was pretty sure were three sizes too small. he’s lucky he’d invested in such starchy jeans or he might be visibly straining against the fabric by now.

he chuckles to himself, muttering a “damn minx.” before you giggle and beckon him over. “c’mon. atleast feed me. m’so hot and my arms tired, just don’t wanna do it anymore.” you pull out the theatrics, and he whips his head around to watch you with a smirk of disbelief. jj valued his job sure, but at the end of the day he was just a man.

“alright then.” he saunters over, wiping his hands on his jeans as to not get any of that paint on your pretty skin. there was no paint on them anyway, the blonde actually super meticulous and good at his job, but he wanted to be sure.

he plucks a strawberry from your plate, wiggling his fingers for a moment and licking his own lips as he stares down at you, watching the way your plush mouth closes around it, batting your lashes up at him and letting out a quiet ‘mmph’ of pleasure at the sweet taste on your tongue.

“taste good?” he asks and you nod, swallowing it down. once you’d eaten the rest from his hand like a sweet desperate wounded animal, you found yourself sucking the juices off his long weathered fingers, eyes fluttering shut. if he wasn’t hard before, he sure was now.

“lord have mercy.” he drawls in that southern twang and you giggle, pulling back as you catch yourself, wiping your mouth with the back of your wrist.

“terribly sorry mr maybank. i got carried away.” you grin, not sorry at all.

“that ain’t no problem, sugar. matter’ fact i think i do want a taste.” leaning down, jj pinches your chin lightly, opening your mouth and bringing your lips to his, he smears his wide tongue over yours making you let out a high pitched mewl against him, thighs squirming against one another. he holds you there, lapping up the freshly resided juices and when he finally pulls away, there’s a string of sweet saliva that connects your lips for a moment.

smirking, jj runs his thumb affectionately over your chin as you stare up at him, dumbstruck. “yeah you were right. sure does taste good.” he gives your cheek a kind little pat, like you would a horse before sauntering back to his work station — fully expecting you to follow and beg him to take you right there. who were you to exceed those expectations?

[smallpeniscollective]

Raphael fuckers, come get y'all juice!!

another smutty Raphael/Haarlep blurb for a concept I CANNOT get out of my HEAD

ladies, gentlemen, and anyone else who showed up to the potluck, here’s some good old fashioned dp with Raphael and Haarlep

content: pov/2nd person, she/her pronouns, afab body parts, pet names, devil sex, fingering with claws (yeOWCH), orgasm delay/denial, p-in-v, p-in-a, double penetration, master/pet dynamic, and whatever else comes with sploinking the devil and his incubus

trigger warning for pain during sex and also for rough sex as punishment for stealing from the house of hope

(this kinda ended up Way longer than a blurb so please enjoy just some porn with barely any plot)

*~*~*

He could have whisked your clothes away in an instant with one of his usual theatrical snaps, but you could sense this was a power play, to make you feel your submission to him deep under your skin. Ravenous, glowing eyes watched as you undressed, making you feel suddenly shy and yearning to hide from his penetrating gaze.

“Oh, don’t be timid now, little mouse. You lost that right the second you entered my home without permission.”

While your terrifyingly hopeless situation had your blood running cold, you couldn’t deny that feeling the low rumble of his voice in your naked chest sent a fresh wave of arousal to your core. You continued to undress with averted eyes and shaky hands. When you dropped the last of your clothing onto a small pile on the floor, you managed to look up at him with anxiously rounded eyes.

“On the bed,” he ordered. His voice sounded cruel and cold, contradicting how intimate this felt to you.

You felt the sensation of shame drop your heart in your chest, unable to stop the panicked wondering of what your companions would think of their fearless leader degrading herself so willingly for a devil.

But your body acted of its own volition, obeying his orders and climbing into the bed rather ungracefully. You sat towards the edge of the bed on your heels, kneeling before him as if he were the answer to your prayers, despite him being the main threat to your existence in this moment.

He approached the mattress with slow and calculated steps while his tail swished behind him like an irritated cat. His wings extended out wide, encompassing you and blocking your view of anything but him.

His hand raised, and you instinctively flinched, only for him to slowly stroke his knuckles down the side of your cheek. His lips curled into a wicked grin in response to your fear. “Don’t act so scared, little thief. I won’t harm you… yet.”

Your heartbeat quickened in your chest at the promise of pain.

He gripped your chin tightly with his thumb and finger, pressing his claw into your bottom lip. When your lips instinctively parted, he dove in. You never expected his kisses to be gentle, but the scorch of his lips pulled a surprised noise out of you. Your eyes fluttered closed as you let him consume you with greedy licks of his hot tongue.

His other hand grazed your cheek before tracing down the side of your neck, claws scratching against your soft skin as he slid that hand into the hair at the nape of your neck.

When your hands moved to touch him, he gripped your hair and yanked your head back harshly, prying your open mouth from his. You whimpered from the sting of your hair almost being ripped out.

“You will not move until instructed. Do you understand?”

You tried to nod your head, but his firm grip on your hair didn’t allow much wiggle room.

“Use your words, pet.” His eyes were half-lidded with lust, but the cruel glare shined through his fiery irises.

“Yes,” you squeaked. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment at how weak you felt in that moment, when your entire journey seemed to have been about proving your strength.

“Yes, what?” He asked, tilting his head to the side and squinting his eyes at you. He was searching for submission in your frightened eyes, attempting to crush any form of rebellion against him you had left.

You reactively gulped, mouth suddenly dry as you realized what he wanted. With your voice as meek and vulnerable as you had ever heard it, you whispered, “Yes, master.”

The sharp-toothed grin that spread across his face could only be described as pure evil. The hero of Faerun, the ender of the Shadow Curse and life-saver to any unfortunate soul who crossed your path, was nothing but a mere pet to their new master.

“I so enjoy that title from your lips, dearest pet,” he hummed.

Before you could think of any response, his heavy hands swiftly moved to shove your shoulders back, sending you flying into mattress. You landed with a gasp on your back, and he was quick to pull your legs towards him, spreading you wide for him.

He had been able to smell your arousal from the moment he laid eyes on you in his home, but seeing now how truly wet you were for him, slick dripping from your folds and smeared across your inner thighs, it seemed to boost his ego beyond his absurd level of narcissism. “My, my,” he mused, swiping a clawed finger along your drenched slit, “it seems you rather enjoy submitting to my whims.”

Without instruction to move, you gripped the silken sheets with quick, shaky breaths as he toyed with you. When his claw caught on your clit, you inhaled sharply and bit down in your bottom lip.

Suddenly, two large fingers were shoved into you, and you couldn’t stop the moan that escaped you at the feeling of being stretched beyond what your own two fingers could manage. His pace was teasingly slow as he watched your body react to his touch, how your thighs trembled and your abdomen clenched. When his gaze shifted up at your eyes squeezed shut, he paused his motions. “Eyes on me, little mouse. You wouldn’t want me to take your averted gaze as disrespect, would you?”

“No,” you whimpered, opening your eyes slowly. When you met his eyes, his stare was downright predatory, and it sent a shiver up your spine.

“No?” he asked sharply, correcting your mistake of forgetting your manners. He forced his hand in deep, and you felt the tips of his claws press into your cervix in a warning.

“No, master.” Your brows upturned with an unspoken apology.

“Do not make me remind you again,” he threatened, digging his claws deeper into the flesh of your cunt.

“I’m sorry, master,” you whined. You could feel your walls throbbing around his hot fingers.

Satisfied with your reply, he continued pumping his fingers into you, letting his sharp claws freely scrape against your insides. Your moans mixed with winces as you experienced the pleasure mixing with pain in a way you never pictured yourself enjoying so much.

After what felt like an eternity of such sinful pleasure, a warmth bloomed below your stomach, pulling a string tight within you. When your walls tightened around his fingers, he pulled them out, eliciting a pathetic whine from your lips as that feeling in your abdomen sizzled out.

“Fret not, dearest thief, we’re not done yet,” he murmured before stepping back from the bed and snapping his wet fingers.

A flash of bright flames sparked, and you recognized the devilish form that appeared beside the bed.

“You called, master?” Haarlep asked, shifting his gaze from the still-clothed cambion to your naked body with unbridled lust.

Raphael looked over at Haarlep, and you witnessed the possessive gleam in his eyes fade into something colder and strangely more distant in regards to his personal incubus. “I want you to fuck our little thief,” he said bluntly. “And do make sure she comes. It will make the next act of our torrid affair… easier to handle.”

His phrasing had your mind beginning to spin with worry, but before you could vocalize any concerns, Haarlep obliged his master. He crawled onto the bed with fluid movements and slithered over your smaller frame, lining up his already-hard cock with your soaked entrance.

“Wait,” Raphael barked. Haarlep turned towards his master, and you both watched as Raphael walked towards the side of the bed and snapped his fingers once more. An elegant chair appeared behind him, and he promptly sat, crossing his leg over his knee and curling his fingers around his chin as if he were in deep thought. “Now, you may begin.”

At his words, Haarlep turned back to you, smiling wickedly. “I remember you,” he said, his voice identical to Raphael’s but with more whimsy, “you were the little mouse who snuck around the cat’s house. How does it feel to be beneath his claws?”

“Haarlep, your order was to fuck her, not to make conversation,” You could hear the annoyance in his tone.

“Very well, master,” Haarlep said, before settling his hands on the plump flesh of your hips and pushing into you. The first thing you felt was the sting of the stretch, much larger than anything you had felt before. You panted between pained moans as the ridges and bumps that adorned his member dragged along your tight walls, and your eyes squeezed shut involuntarily in response.

“Eyes on me, pet,” Raphael said, and you obediently opened them once more, turning your head to face him as Haarlep ground his hips against yours to nudge his cock deeper into you. Raphael studied your face as your brows upturned and your mouth hung open in intense pleasure.

You could see outline of Raphael’s erection through his breeches; he was feeling every sensation that the incubus was as you were taken in front of him. Raphael's eyes remained on you as he demanded, “Harder,” but you could tell the order was not for you when Haarlep’s grip on your hips tightened. His claws left deep, crescent-shaped indentions as they dug into your delicate skin.

Haarlep’s sensual slower thrusting then became hard pounding, and the sound of wet skin slapping against skin began to fill the room, along with the noises he pulled out of you. Your knuckles turned white from the grip you had on Raphael’s sheets as your low moans morphed into cries of pleasure. Your eyes were still on his but beginning to blur with tears as he watched you be fucked relentlessly by his copy.

Raphael let out his own quiet groans as he felt the sensation of your phantom cunt squeezing and quivering around him. He smoothly uncrossed his legs, spreading his thighs in a deliciously dominant way and untied the string to his breeches to free his aching cock. Precum leaked from his tip as he lazily stroked his shaft.

“Touch her,” he ordered Haarlep. You grew somehow even wetter at his orders when his eyes never left you.

“As you wish,” you heard Haarlep’s voice sing out, his face just barely in your peripheral view. One of his hands moved from your hip to your most sensitive region, and you gasped loudly at the caress of your clit as he continued his hard thrusts.

At the sensation of your clit being touched and the pleasurable pounding you were taking, your knees lifted of their own accord to hold at Haarlep's hips. You could feel the bruises forming already from the ridges on his hips digging into your skin, yet that string inside of you wound tightly once more. You knew it wouldn’t take long for it to snap.

Your loud moans were music to Raphael’s ears as he stroked harder and tighter, his cock now glistening with an abundance of precum. He grunted before asking in a voice even lower and reverberant than before, “Do you wish to come, little mouse?”

“Yes, master,” you managed through your moans.

“And she calls you ‘master’,” Haarlep cooed at your use of the word. “What a delectable little mouse, indeed.”

Haarlep’s generous circling of your aching clit and deep rutting had you seeing stars. You could feel yourself on the cusp of your orgasm, and your thighs began to shake vigorously from holding it back. Raphael could see this, watching you teeter on that edge with a lick of his lips.

He waited, of course.

Pleasure turned into torture as you wailed, your fingers going numb from how tightly you were gripping the sheets. Your muscles grew taught with the exertion of holding in your orgasm.

You didn’t want to beg, but you couldn’t take it anymore. “Please, master!” you cried out, hot tears rolling down your cheeks.

When your cries of pleasure became pitiful sobs, Raphael finally relented.

“Go on then, pet. Come for me.”

With a strained moan, your back arched and your vision blurred as white hot pleasure flooded through you, ebbing through you in waves as Haarlep rode you through it, pounding so hard you could feel it bruise your cervix.

Your thighs twitched as your legs instinctively tried to close from the overstimulation of still being ravaged by the incubus, but Haarlep moved his hands to your knees to keep your legs pried open for him as he continued.

“Enough.” Raphael stood up from his chair as Haarlep stopped his movements, stilling himself inside of you and turned his head towards Raphael. “Up.”

You looked to Haarlep, and Haarlep glanced your way quickly to express his annoyance in having to stop before pulling himself off of you. You let out a soft whine as he pulled his cock out of you, feeling suddenly empty.

“You as well,” Raphael said, gesturing at your limp body.

You took in a deep breath and sat up, muscles already sore as you slinked off of the bed. When you stood up, your knees almost buckled beneath you, but you kept yourself up on trembling legs. He noticed, smirking to himself at your weakened state.

With another snap of his fingers, his clothes were gone, and you couldn’t help but stare at his naked form. You had seen it on Haarlep, but Haarlep’s form was a little less sharp than Raphael’s, with his slightly rounder jaw and softer nose. Raphael’s true naked form was enthralling, the divots and ridges on his body seeming sharper, more dangerous.

He took his place on the bed, leaning back against the headboard with a smug expression. He gestured to his cock, still erect and glistening with his precum.

You understood the silent command, climbing back onto the bed. You crawled on all fours towards him and took the opportunity to freely graze your hands up his muscular legs, touching as much skin as you could—as much skin as you were allowed to touch. Despite how rough the two fiends had been with you, your touch was adoring and gentle as your fingertips brushed over the ridges and protruding veins.

When Raphael's expression shifted from inquisitive to impatient, you took it as a cue to fulfill his desire and made your way to his lap to straddle his textured hips. You let your drenched folds glide over his shaft in a slight teasing manner, this being the only teasing you could sneak in before his hands seized the meat of your thighs to serve as a reminder of who was in charge.

You took the large member in your much smaller hand while your other hand landed on his broad chest for stability, and you slid the head of his cock down your slit to guide it towards your entrance. With a sharp breath, you pushed down onto him, still feeling sore from the previous pounding. When your hips landed against his with him fully sheathed, you took a moment to adjust to the sheer size of him yet again. Both of your hands on his chest now, feeling the slow rise and fall of his breathing, and he, in turn, gave your thighs an assertive squeeze to let you know he was done waiting.

Your pace was slow on weak thighs as you rocked yourself against him. But his cock nudging that soft spot deep in your core egged you on, giving you just enough energy to revitalize your need.

You let yourself fall against him, clinging to him and nestling your face in the warmth that was the crook of his neck as you chased that high once more. His hands moved to your waist, forcing you down harder against him, and you couldn't stop the whimpers tumbling past your lips, landing right in his ear.

You felt the bed dip in weight behind you, but you were too focused on the grind of your hips and the pleasure climbing in your core to pay any mind to it.

"What a naughty little pet," you heard Haarlep muse from behind you, but you didn't dare slow or stop your movements. Haarlep sat himself atop Rapahel's mid-thighs, planting himself right behind you, and you could feel his heat radiating onto your back.

"Some spittle, to prepare her," Raphael instructed through soft grunts, and Haarlep eagerly complied, deftly snaking a large hand around the column of your throat before suddenly prying you off of Raphael and pulling you back against him.

Then Haarlep took his turn devouring your lips. His kiss was much more gentle than Raphael's, and you couldn’t help but melt into his touch. Your hips ground down harder against Raphael as Haarlep beckoned your lips open with a swipe of his tongue. The second your lips parted for him, his tongue was barging into your mouth, stroking your tongue with tender licks.

When the saliva seeping down your throat made you reactively gulp, you felt your insides light up with an energy that could only be described as carnal lust in its most calamitous form. Electricity seeped into every fiber of your being, tingling all the way down to your fingers and toes. Every muscle in your body ached for sex, more and more sex until it consumed you whole.

Subconsciously, your pace atop Raphael quickened. Your moans, muffled by Haarlep's mouth on yours, heightened in pitch and intensity. Arousal pooled beneath you, leaking onto Raphael's skin and aiding your gliding atop his hips.

Raphael leaned forward, greedily taking a nipple into his mouth while his other hand groped at your other breast roughly. Your hands flew to his head, your fingers digging into his soft hair as you pulled him further against you. You practically mewled when his hot tongue ran over the bud, letting his sharpened teeth scratch your sensitive skin as he sucked.

Your core felt dangerously aflame with a mounting pleasure surging through every inch of your body. Haarlep released your lips, eyes burning into yours to watch his spittle work its magic on you. With his hand still on your throat, his other hand tickled the skin along your spine as it snuck down your back.

In your haze of primal desire, you almost didn't notice Haarlep's fingers swipe at the puddle of your own wetness beneath you, until you felt those fingers smear the slick over your unused hole. Still holding his stare, your eyes widened at the realization of what the next act of your "torrid affair" truly was.

Raphael intended to stuff you full of two cocks, both of which he would be feeling inside of you.

Your mouth dropped open, attempting to stutter out any protest you could think of in the moment, but your words—or lack thereof—were cut short by the hand around your throat quickly moving up. Your jaw was abruptly encapsulated by Haarlep's large hand, muffling any noise you could make.

"Hush now," his voice rumbled in your ear, sending more tingles down your spine. Your labored breathing through your nostrils sounded loud against his hand. "Don't you want to be a good little mouse for your master?"

At the word, Raphael released your breasts, paying his full attention to the interaction between you and Haarlep. You felt him pull away, and your frantic eyes locked with his in a silent plea. You had never had any lovers use that particular hole; you weren't ready for it to be intruded upon.

But the spittle in your veins begged for more.

The tip of Haarlep's cock pressed into the tight ring of muscle, and the feeling was... strange, to say the least. You never used this hole in any pursuits of passion, you never thought to. It was uncomfortable, but the member still being coated in your slick made it easier to take.

The stretch as he pushed in farther burned more than it did in your cunt, and low, pained moans slipped past your lips in response, still muffled by Haarlep's hand.

You stilled your movements, unable to continue grinding with this new sensation distracting you. Your inner walls throbbed around the two cocks, and you could feel the sweat covering your skin, spurred on by the heat of the two infernal bodies surrounding you. With your eyes still on Raphael's, your chest heaved with deep, ragged breaths.

"It seems our little thief needs some aid," Raphael said, his voice more gravelly than before. He removed his hands from your waist, allowing Haarlep's hands to take his place, and you sucked in a sharp breath the second your mouth was freed.

"Sing for us, little mouse," Haarlep whispered in your ear before he forced you down by the waist, plunging the two cocks deep into you.

You shrieked at the pain, and tears gathered in the corners of your eyes. The stretch, the burning, the stinging; it was too much. But you were not granted a moment of reprieve when Haarlep effortlessly lifted you and shoved you down repeatedly.

The spittle in your system felt like a godsend now, easing the pain and turning it into a plethora of pleasure as the ridged cocks ground together with the only barrier between them being your slick inner walls. You continued to wail, it being the only sound your used, feeble body could make.

Your eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open as your vision blurred from your tears.

But Raphael would not allow your eyes to close. He wiped the sweat-soaked strands of hair from your face before gripping your jaw with a grip that almost crumbled the bone.

"Eyes. On. Me."

The dam finally broke, and the tears leaked down your face inn warm streams as you blubbered, "I- I can't. T-too much."

He laughed coldly in your face, his broad chest bouncing with the deep chuckle. "Thieves must be punished, dear. Is this not a merciful punishment? Would you rather I skin you? Maim you, hm? Make you bleed?"

You sobbed, your body shaking. You couldn't even tell if it was cries of pleasure or cries of terror; you were too far gone as the devil and his incubus abused your frail, mortal body.

That familiar string winding tight in your lower belly once more was the hint that it was, in fact, cries of immense pleasure, the kind of body-wrecking pleasure that you could never experience with another mortal soul.

Raphael could feel you tightening around him, and the sight of his favorite little misadventurer, his dearest thief, falling apart so beautifully under his claws...

This image of you would make the most wonderful painting to adorn his grand halls.

Haarlep felt it too, and his response to it was to quicken his forceful pace of shoving you down on him and Raphael. His hold on you was so tight that his claws dug into your sides, and small beads of blood trickled down your sweaty skin, not that you even noticed in the moment.

The rapidity of being shoved on two cocks and the pressure of them digging into every soft spot inside of you had you racing towards a powerful orgasm. You could see in Raphael eye's that he was near his own end with his quick grunts and heaving chest. His hold on your jaw loosened and changed to a gentle holding of your chin, keeping your teary eyes on him throughout all of this, while his other hand sought out your clit once more. He wanted to feel you come apart.

And come apart, you did.

With one last wail, a tsunami of blindingly hot pleasure surged through you, sending every nerve into overdrive. Your walls squeezed the two cocks tightly, and every continual shove down on them resurged the bliss until your body was convulsing.

The squeeze of your cunt and sound of your cries pulled his orgasm out of Raphael, and his lips parted. In a chorus of low and sultry noises, you felt him and Haarlep come inside of you in tandem, the molten heat of infernal seed filling up both of your holes.

When they finally stilled, Haarlep released his grip on your waist, and you instantly keeled over, landing against Raphael's chest with a barely-audible whine. You were exhausted, out of breath, and slick with sweat and a faint amount of your own blood.

Raphael's breathing returned to a normal pace almost immediately, and you listened to the heavy beat of his steady heart to ground yourself back to reality. He let you lay on him for a moment and stroked your hair rather gently, unusual considering how cruel he tended to be.

Haarlep noticed this, eyeing his master with a suspicious gaze. Has the devil gone soft for a mere mortal, and a thieving one no less?

Raphael motioned to dismiss Haarlep with a wave of his hand, not even giving the incubus the dignity of a verbal dismissal.

Haarlep pulled out of you, his seed spilling out of your used hole. A whine hitched in your throat at the motion as you tried to control your breathing. He slipped off of the bed and gave Raphael one last mischievous glance before disappearing in a quick haze of sparkling flames.

Once you were alone with Raphael, his hand reached for your face, lifting your head up to meet your tired eyes. “You did very well, little mouse. You’ve proven time and time again to be far more resilient than I originally gave you credit for.”

Your arms trembled as you lifted yourself off of his chest. All of the doubt and fear you had tucked away when the pleasure rolled in came flooding back. “What’s going to happen to me?”

He smirked at your nervousness. He twirled a strand of hair around his finger while he murmured with his smooth, deep voice, "You will rest in the House of Hope tonight, little thief. And tomorrow, you will be back on the road with your merry band of misfits. I still need the Crown, and how very lucky for you that I still have your contract."

The contract. The very item you were caught stealing. You were still merely a pawn in his overarching game of chess, but he was right.

How lucky for you that your services were still needed.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

sink, m | jjk

you left your hair tie, battin’ those eyes by the sink, you leave ‘em behind think I know why – 'hair tie' by ØZI

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; friends-with-benefits going downhill thanks to shitty communication; smut (fem reader, f and m-receiving oral, heavy petting, m-masturbation, ball spanking, spit kink, breath kink, penetrative sex); non-idol!BTS – fuckboy?Jungkook x rock fan!reader tired of his shit XD inspired by the song above and ofc I referenced 'Too Much' ;)

--

You left your hair tie by my sink again.

Oh, shit, my bad. I’ll pick it up next time I’m over. :)

You left him on read.

Went back to brushing your teeth, looking down on the clear hair tie by your sink. It was one of those squiggly ones that were meant to not leave ceases in the hair. Not one of those that could easily be secured on the wrist. He must have taken it out right after. Well. He had needed it. You would have opened the window to get that cool night air, but Jeon Jungkook was loud when he was fucking.

Hm.

He sweat a lot when he was fucking. All over his back and chest, his skin glistening in the rainbow starlight generated by your mood lamp. You didn’t really care if the lights were on or off. He liked mood lighting, so he bought it and left it in your room so he could turn it on when he wanted to turn you on. Always tried to act all cool about it, as if you didn’t know exactly what he wanted when he hit you up. As if he actually needed to talk to you in-person about the latest installment of the Marvel universe.

Uh huh.

Somehow your back had ended up against his chest. Somehow his mouth had ended up by your neck and somehow his hand had ended up sliding under your shirt. Can’t stay too late, he always said. Same lines to the same old story. You half-scoffed into the mirror, switching sides of your teeth. The same routine, accidentally knocking the light switch, somehow knowing exactly where in your nightstand the remote for the mood lighting was, and then it was clothes on the floor. Your hand around his wrist and your hot breath by his ear, the fuck you think you’re doing?

“What? Too much?” he had replied with a smirk.

The shit Jeon Jungkook pulled.

Fuck it.

The hair tie must have been because he had planned to eat you out today. Precautions. He was better at it this time than the last. It wasn’t that his black hair was excessively long. A good amount simply fell past his ears when he leaned forward and, between your thighs, it stuck when he sweat. You might have lightly complained about it last time. Jungkook was self-conscious enough to remember and pull back the upper half of his hair before showing up at your doorstep. His own damn fault since he liked to plant his hands on your ass and drag you forward into his face, strong tongue consistently and firmly pressed to your clit and looking up at you with those round dark brown eyes of his. He had been trying to tease you but you saw right through him.

“A little higher up,” you had gently prompted.

The simmering waves danced through your veins as soon as he obeyed. Your hand had eventually found the back of his head. Crowning touch and locking your hips, feeling your slickness press against his lower lip and chin. The thought of your juices smeared into his double lip rings. Your tense thighs pressed into his jaw and cheeks. His long fingers sinking into the full curve of your ass.

The ghost of imprinted fingertips lingering on your skin.

You leaned over the sink bowl and spit out foam.

Jungkook had been truly annoying about it from the start. Needed to know that he was the best you had ever had. First kiss was an accident in the way that accidents don’t really happen. The kind of accident that was you getting into his face after he called you at three twenty-four in the morning and ordering you to stay on the line so he didn’t drunkenly pass out while walking home on a night out. He had even thrown up in some poor neighbor’s flowerbed mid-walk. The next day you had gone over to his place with take-out food and an annoyed attitude, confronting him after he had groggily brushed his teeth, smelling his minty breath as you scolded him that he was too old for this shit, right next to his bathroom sink.

Jungkook’s dark brown eyes had given you this look.

And you immediately knew how this was going to play out.

The kiss was to get you off my case, he said.

But.

“But… would you do it again?”

You rinsed your mouth out and applied your lip balm.

Not seeing yourself in the mirror, but instead seeing your shocked face from back then, squeezed between his bare arms and tasting the mint of his breath, strands of his black hair against your face. You remembered the way he smelled. Like warm, crystal-clear rain. The residual notes of cologne. You had found it later on his dresser. A square glass bottle.

Calvin Klein, Euphoria for men.

Strange, you had smelled that scent on other men before but he never smelled as good as it did on Jeon Jungkook.

But he did this shit all the time. A little kiss here. A little kiss there. Loved to disappear and pop up at just the right time when you were thinking about him and suddenly you were alone with exploring hands and a smiling mouth, is it too much, and you would reply in your most unfazed tone, shut the fuck up. He would promise he wasn’t fucking around but also he wouldn’t stick around either. You didn’t chase him but also you would blow his mind every time. Like that one instance where he had thrown himself into the wall and wheezed for air after you non-stop sucked him off for three orgasms straight, only stopping because you were done swallowing.

“Fuck… How does your mouth always get me hard so fast, f-fuck…”

“Told you not to question me,” was your calm reply as you wiped your lip with the heel of your palm.

There was no way that you were going to tell Jeon Jungkook that he was driving you insane with his behavior. Maybe he really wanted you to be the one to say it. But you weren’t going to, not with his constant, too much or next time or his stupid non-accidental leaving of his hair tie by your sink. He had shirts and sweatpants left behind in your apartment, just in case. The scent of Euphoria for men lingering on your bedsheets for a few hours, but it would disappear before the morning.

Just like him.

You knew Jungkook didn’t like it that you never tried to stop him from leaving.

“If you have to go, you have to go.”

If he wanted to, he would.

You left the bathroom, holding your phone loosely.

-

Jeon Jungkook looked up at the ceiling and wondered if she would let him love her the way he did.

He had a sinking feeling.

It started in the way that all accidents don’t happen. His finger hovering over her name in his contacts one too many times. More than one of those drunk times actually pressing it and then immediately ending the call. And then a single one of those extra drunk times not hanging up when she answered at the second ring. The fuck was she doing up at three in the morning anyway? His drunk brain was too over the moon to care though. His impulses uninhibited and his mouth going off before his brain could keep up.

Then promptly informing her that he needed to vomit and throwing up in some random flowerbed.

Not one of Jungkook’s best moments.

For some reason, she hadn’t completely written him off for that. Both a good thing and bad thing. A good thing because at least that didn’t disgust her. A bad thing because it made him fall in love a little harder. Then she had showed up on his doorstep the next morning with breakfast and looking like a million bucks. She looked too beautiful with tousled hair and that stern kindness. Even her lips moving as she chided him, you are not a kid anymore, you’re an adult, they looked so soft and inviting and she didn’t back away from he leaned in.

His head hurt like hell but he did it.

Her perfume was sweet and smokey and addictive.

He could still remember the feeling of her hand on his chest. Only thin white jersey separating him from those five fingertips. What are you doing? It was his fault. She put him on the spot and he couldn’t admit it fast enough. Getting you off my case. She shoved him and he laughed it off, setting a precedence that he couldn’t stop. No.

Didn’t.

“But… would you do it again?”

She had scoffed at him.

“Let’s see if you’re brave enough to meet me after dark when you’ve got a clearer head. Bye.”

There was something in that expression that dared him. Something in her body language that he couldn’t get out his head. Word on the street was don’t fuck around and find out, so Jungkook did precisely what any man would do when encountered with that information.

He fucked around and found the fuck out.

“Hey, now.”

Shit, her ass had looked so damn good in those black leather pants.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing, punk?”

He had never met a better tongue. And her breath. He had begged her to breathe on him before. Hot and heavy like his heart, over his neck and chest and down his abs, warming the line of spit made by her wicked tongue. Unseen marks that stayed in his mind when he closed his eyes, looking down to her sensual stare, locking eyes with him as her tongue curled around the swollen head of his cock. Didn’t even need to look. So fucking hot. There was magic in that mouth. He never knew what to expect next but it was always exactly what he wanted. Soft and tight. Rough and deep. Warm tongue that curled around his girth and pressed him into the ridges, driving him insane with the sensations and the pressure.

If he had ever wanted anyone else, he had already forgot about them.

Jungkook refused to believe that she fucked anyone but him with that kind of vigor. She would place her palms on the headboard and ram her hips into him like he owed her goddamn rent. Pussy squeezing him all around. Dripping down his balls, sticking to his inner thighs. She would throw her hair back and grin after she blew his mind, sure, I can go again, like it was no big deal even though his chest was about to burst. He must be special.

Right?

He had brought a hair tie with him last night so his hair would stop sticking to his face.

He needed a haircut.

It made him so mad that she wouldn’t take the bait. She would corner him before he had his trap set and then he would balk under her stare, lips to lips to avoid saying anything. Hand to skin. Lips to his jaw, tongue playing with his earrings.

He just didn’t know.

Jungkook rolled in his bed, wishing it was her body beside his.

Stay away. She was a nightmare dressed like a daydream, everyone said. Road to ruin, everyone said. He didn’t care about that shit but he could feel the distance. Even between naked bodies and tongue to tongue, Jungkook got the feeling that she was never going to need him and that pissed him off. Was that stubbornness? Yeah. But wasn’t she being stubborn too by not giving in to what was so clearly there?

He had pulled the hair tie out and put it by the faucet, rinsing off his face to clear his head.

I’m not gonna stay if she doesn’t make me, he had said to himself, using her soft white hand towel to wipe his face. Looked at himself in the mirror and remembered that morning when she had come up behind him, yanking his shoulder and telling him he was too old for this shit. He wished she had done the same thing to him last night too.

But she hadn’t.

The sinking feeling persisted.

He texted back and he would get the hair tie next time. Next time. But she was pulling away and he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t like it. It made him irritated. It made him think he didn’t need this. It made him think he didn’t want anyone else because he was addicted to her now.

And.

It made him sad.

He looked to see if she had replied and of course she hadn’t. Reached back and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside with a click of his tongue. Needed a shower. Needed to wash her memory off his mind. Maybe make an effort to call his friends and go out tonight.

Jungkook got up from his bed, holding onto his phone.

-

People were scared to be messy these days. But not you. The world was always going to be chaos. The only way to be in control of it was to be at the center.

Or start it.

You liked to be alone and you liked to be alone amongst people. The kind of feeling most people dreaded. You slid in deeper, deeper into the crowd, caged by body heat and bated breath. The world was darkness alight with neon points. The thundering bass traveling up from the floor seized the heart, threatening to stop it. A steady, continuous beat before the chaos. The other audience members where whispering amongst themselves in the dark. And there you were, standing in the vacuum of space surrounded by universes abound, and you the black hole, catching bits and pieces of their excited conversations, passively devouring in their palpable anticipation.

The music started.

The mosh pit came alive.

You had earplugs to prevent permanent damage for your dangerous pastime. Drums and guitar and guttural vocals. Bodies on the floor and leaning up against yours, even jostling you, but you paid it no mind, licking your teeth and letting the vicious, subline energy burn through you. It was hard to think about anything else. The band was alternative rock but they occasionally covered heavier songs live which was a real treat for your nostalgia.

A phase you never grew out of, heh.

You headbanged along and thankfully the hair tie kept the majority of your hair away from your face.

Not that it would have really mattered here. The concert was a psychedelic and everyone here was under the influence, lost in their own high, too deep into each song, reliving old memories and creating new ones. No one would care if you were sweaty. Everyone was sweating. Still, even with the mesh cutouts on the thighs, you probably shouldn’t have worn these leather pants. Now it was becoming disturbingly hot and you were really hoping adrenaline could make you forget about it. At least you had opted for a mesh long-sleeve shirt and loose crop top with the band’s logo on your upper half. Plus, you learned from last time – a skimpy black swimsuit top under instead of a bra.

Moisture-wicking, check.

“Nice jewelry.”

“Thanks,” was your quick reply between songs. They were talking about your tangle of silver bracelets and chain necklaces, you assumed. You did not really want to engage anyone too much. Rock bands tended to attract a lot of unsavory men. You never knew who you were amongst unless you trusted too much, so it was better to be distant and vigilant.

You tensed during the interlude as the band took a break.

“Are you by yourself? Me too.”

It was years of unfortunate experience that made you relax, because now you could tell the difference between someone you could hurt and someone that could hurt you. You didn’t check your phone when it vibrated while you spoke to the man who approached you. You could feel it and your cardholder practically glued to your hip in these tight leather pants. You weren’t going to get pickpocketed without a fight. But that wasn’t what this was. The guy was calm. Young face with an oddly wise aura. Seemed a little nervous. He was cute in a shy way.

Reminded you of someone.

Intimidating with his broad shoulders and all-black fit. Black hair swept over his forehead and soft dark eyes so large that they reminded you of boba pearls. You got him to smile easily. He had a brilliant, stunning smile. Apparently, he was supposed to meet a date and they flaked on him. It could have been a fabricated story, but he seemed genuine in the way he described it. Since he had already paid, he had decided to stick around. Noticed you because, unlike everyone else tightly packed in their groups, you thrashed alone. He said he was surprised that you had come alone. Even more surprised when you clarified that you had wanted to come alone.

“Well, big bad lone wolves like me can protect timid chipmunks like you, hm?” you joked.

After all, the world didn’t stop revolving just because Jeon Jungkook didn’t try hard enough.

That made him laugh and you let him enjoy the night with you. Even without knowing someone deeply, there was just something about enjoying music together that was its own intense experience. Bonded by bass and beating hearts, by the winded lightheadedness of whipping your heads too hard, by melodies that reminded you of darker times that made you stronger now, strong enough to be alone and casually with another, impulsively letting this strange wrap his arms around your legs and lift you so you could blow your lungs out and go hoarse during the last song.

You didn’t even feel your phone vibrate again because the bass was too fucking intense.

You bounced off that broad shoulder as the lights went down, laughing manically, electricity still simmering in your veins.

“I always wanted to do that.”

“Glad I could help,” the handsome stranger was chuckling. “You’re insane.”

It was, and you took it as such, a compliment.

You didn’t see Jeon Jungkook’s double text until you pulled out your phone to get this guy’s number.

Hey.

I see you.

A strange feeling. But you did as you intended and broke away, not lingering as the rest of the crowd filed out. You weren’t sure if this annoyed new guy, and at the moment you didn’t really care. Life, after all, was not a fairy tale. You wouldn’t have linked up tonight anyway, with or without Jungkook’s texts. The concert had been set in was a small venue next to a bar. People were either going through the side door or through the bar to keep the night going. You also followed towards the bar because you needed to get to the main street to get to the train.

If Jungkook had seen you, he must have brought tickets as well.

You hadn’t thought to even ask him.

You texted back.

You still see me?

Yeah.

You raised your eyebrows at the immediate answer, breaking out the crowd and moving towards the wall. You didn’t, however, look up. You weren’t about to give that satisfaction. Checked the time and the train schedule. Hm. You debated on whether or not to entertain this bullshit.

You look really good. Love your hair like that.

It took effort to not roll your eyes. Thing is, he could just approach you right now. The crowd was thinning out, but you ignored everybody and stayed glued to your phone. The only reason he wasn’t, then, was because he must be with others, which meant for some reason he didn’t want them to know that he was talking to you right now.

And.

That shit really pissed you off.

You cocked an eyebrow.

Come get your hair tie.

One of those times where you actually wanted to be left on read.

But he disappointed you.

Your place or mine?

You stuck your tongue in your cheek and dropped your hand, shoving your phone into your leather pants. Didn’t bother looking around. Just started walking out the door, thinking about the fastest route to the train station. Huh. Twenty-first century and Jeon Jungkook was out here thinking only guys like him could be fuckboys. You pushed through the smoked glass, out into the cool night and bustling street lit up with streetlamps and neon signs. Maybe you should have followed that stranger tonight. No. Deep down, you knew this wasn’t right. You shook your head at no one, whipping your hair about your shoulders, and began your brisk walk, Jeon Jungkook on your brain.

Fucking idiot.

-

He realized it too late.

The top of her hair had been pulled back, half-up, half-down, with wisps of bangs around her face, and he recognized those black leather pants, damn, her ass looks so good, and then he still didn’t get it as her shoulders slumped. She completely ignored his reply, walking out instead.

Ten minutes and then it hit him.

Come get your hair tie.

Fuck.

“Sorry, guys, I gotta go.”

“What? Why? Did something happen?”

“Yup, bye.”

“Yah, Jeon–”

He didn’t even wait to hear his name being called, instead jumping over the chairs in haste and one beat away from running, just now realizing how fucking stupid he was. His heart fluttering as he knew a little piece of him was with her, but he was also mad. One of his friends had suggested the concert thing earlier tonight, and they had arrived late, staying in the back with their beers and enjoying the music. It had been a small, dark venue, but it suited the band and their heavy sound. Jungkook thought he had been going a little crazy, thinking about her all night with a drink in his hand, so crazy that he thought he had seen her silhouette towards the front. Thought he recognized that flying hair and rocking shoulders, but, no way, right? Then that same girl was lifted onto a shoulder and bouncing with her hand held high.

Devil horns and everything.

Whoever it was tipped her head back and Jungkook swore he recognized that back and those body proportions. Then her hoarse voice entered the meld of screams and instruments and boosted bass.

And he knew.

She was with someone.

Someone that wasn’t him.

He wanted to remind her. Remind her it was him that held her last night, remind her it was his mouth between her legs and his hands on her ass, but mostly he just wanted to remind himself. He wanted to know who it was that she was with but she had emerged from the doors alone. Weird. It made him feel a little better though. Selfish, Jungkook knew, but so he was. He had stayed were he was, at a table with his friends, out of her sight, but she didn’t even look up. Really. She was willing to make him feel all kinds of fucked up and not willing to even look the fuck up.

Okay.

Come get your hair tie.

Yeah, okay. Okay, she wanted to use him. Fine. Fine, he was cool with that. But she left him on read. In fact, he watched her not look back and leave. Wow. And then it hit him and now he was running in the night, past flooding pools of light and wishing to catch a glimpse of mesh sleeves or black leather pants or even those heavy black boots with silver metal heel. Now he was throwing himself onto the train and trying to remember which one was her stop, wondering why he didn’t see the invitation for what it was. Now time was a thief stealing away the perfect moment and he was chastising himself for not chasing that feeling that he wasn’t so sure about.

-

You pulled the clear hair tie out of your ponytail. The squiggly kind that was meant not to leave ceases in the hair. The strands still ended up wild from the headbanging and the windy night. You ran your fingers through it haphazardly, annoyed when your fingers caught a snag. Scowling at your bathroom mirror as you untangled the strands and wondered why the fuck you ever let Jeon Jungkook get in your brain and drive you insane.

Fuck it.

Fuck him.

Your body was still on a high from the concert. Nerves alight, senses simulated, emotions caught in a rollercoaster. You yanked your clear earplugs out and cleaned them off in your bathroom sink, patting them dry with your hand towel and leaving them next to the hair tie.

You looked down at it.

Should throw it away.

Your hand reached out and then there were three loud thumps at your apartment door.

You jerked and backtracked, surrounded by no light except for the one from the bathroom. It was a short walk. You had to step past your heavy black boots, careful not to stub your toe on the metal heel, and peered through the peephole, seeing a large dark brown eyeball because Jeon Jungkook was too damn close to your door.

You yanked it open.

“The fuck–”

And froze.

He was panting, slightly hunched over. Wearing a black racer jacket with white stripes. It lay half off one shoulder, exposing the black tank top underneath and a peek of his right arm tattoos. Slate blue jeans with slight rips on one knee and black boots, but none of that made you stop and stare, not even his furrowed brow and annoyed expression.

“You cut your hair,” you beathed.

It was fresh. Sides cut short, with the top layer long enough to touch his brows. Currently half swept back, probably from running around. A few strands fell by his dark eyes, additional shadows to this harrowed tension. You backed up. He stepped in, one hand catching the doorframe.

Jungkook glared at you and you felt none of that fake frostiness.

“Yeah, I had a hair appointment today,” he huffed. “I didn’t come for the damn hair tie.”

It was all piling together. The moments of hands around each other’s waist, around his wrist, around his hard cock with his low voice in your ear. Don’t stop. The things unsaid and not said. The nights with him and the mornings without him. Backing away from Calvin Klein’s Euphoria still clinging to your sheets. Alone. The music of your youth, hard and rough and full of anger. The strength of a stranger and the cold air of the night, and suddenly you felt alive, alive and needing answers and fucking pissed off at all the shit Jeon Jungkook pulled.

You let him in your apartment, but not in your space.

“How did you know where I was going to be?” you accused.

The door fell shut.

Jungkook cocked his head. Dark eyes finding yours, cornering you with his gaze. You locked stares and did not back down. “Where else you gonna go but home?” he shot back.

You narrowed your own eyes and didn’t bite your tongue.

“How would a guy like you know what home even means?”

-

Goddamn, the one always knew how to hit him where it hurt.

He stopped moving forward.

But his heart was racing fast, remembering all the moments piling together. Lips to lips, hips to hips, and how tightly she held him, as if she wasn’t going to let him go. Not falling for any of the traps he set but drawing him closer and closer each time with that look in her eyes. Alone. Trying to forget how it felt to be held by her even through it was the most secure he had ever been.

Thinking about it now, maybe too much.

His voice wavered in the darkness between them.

“But, would you do it again?”

She paused at his question. Those eyes seemed a little less shadowy, a little less space between them but only for this second. Kept her hands by her sides though, not reaching out to him.

“How much of this was a lie?” she quietly asked.

He answered honestly.

“None of it.”

She scrutinized him. He stayed an open book. Mostly because he didn’t know any other way to cover up except run, can’t stay too late, didn’t know what was the right thing to do when clearly he had done so much wrong, didn’t know how this was going to end but Jungkook damn well knew this was gonna fuck him up for his whole life.

Silence.

That sinking feeling.

“You have time to spend?” she finally asked.

-

“Yeah.”

Must be a dream.

You closed the distance, trying to stay awake, watching his eyes. Waiting for Jungkook to run, as he did so many times before. He always had somewhere to be that wasn’t here. Following his dark brown eyes, the memory of his taste on your tongue, breathing in the clean scent of Euphoria, closer, body heat radiating off him, and Jungkook bit his lip, causing the two silver lip rings to catch what little light there was, like punctured stars in the darkness between you and him.

His lashes lowered.

You looked at him, unfazed.

Raised your hand.

Placed five fingertips on his black top. Thin jersey fabric between skin to skin, and you walked them up his chest, staring into the windows of his soul to find the truth. Your lips formed his name, but made no sound. His own followed suit, breathing your name under a tense exhale, not yet moving, shivering as your middle finger traced his chain necklace.

“You never have time to spend,” you murmured, your breath against his jaw.

He lowered his head, gaze flickering away. Then back, mumbling even though he meant it.

“I’m sorry.”

You raised an eyebrow and tilted your head.

Opened your mouth to chastise him, but all that came out was an exasperated chuckle.

“Don’t do it again.”

You pressed your lips against his.

Jungkook stole your breath and sank into you.

Your hand pressed into his chest and his arms slid around your waist. His fingers splayed out under your crop top, pressing the slinky micro-mesh against your skin and sending a tingling sensation up your spine. He tasted like haste and hunger. Warmth spreading out, squeezing your torso between leather-covered arms, gasping when your tongue flickered against his lips. Slow. Teasing. Dragging it out. Your other hand slid under his jacket, grasping the small of his waist and digging your nails in. He winced, a small whimper, then tried to cover it up by pulling back slightly, but your tongue remained, sliding out further between his open lips.

Your eyes cracked open to see Jungkook’s lashes flutter, his hot moan warming your lips.

“F… Fuck…”

Your tongue retreated.

Exhaled, giving it the weight that made it drift over his neck and chin. He sucked in a sharp inhale, opening his eyes too. A stand-off. His thighs pressed against your thighs. His erection was straining, even in his jeans. You traced your tongue around the perimeter of your lips, seeing him track the movement with bated breath, smiling slightly as his cock twitched.

He narrowed his eyes. “Can you not?”

You cocked one shoulder, smirking with the tip of your tongue at the edge of your teeth. “Why?”

The faintest of eye rolls. “You don’t suck my dick unless I shower first. And I haven’t showered yet.”

“That really sucks,” you hummed.

With just the correct about of intonation hat you had no sympathy. Especially since your hand was sliding over his ass to follow the line of his hip and then further down, hooking your thumb over the waistband of his jeans and molding your other four fingers around the unforgiving bulge. You heard him bite back a sound, pressing his biceps against you in warning, but you merely smiled, leaning forward to graze your lips against his cheek and jaw.

His cock pulsed strongly in your grip as you whispered into his ear.

Low and hot.

“That really sucks.”

Jungkook made a noise between a whimper and a growl.

But you didn’t care, pressing your breasts against his muscular chest. You knew he could feel your lack of bra through the layers of fabric, the confusion spreading over his facial features as you backed up. There was something there, his brain was working that out, but the swimsuit fabric was thin and your hard nipples were large enough for him to barely feel if he really flexed his pecs.

You unbuttoned his jeans.

He didn’t stop you because he would be crazy to.

The tension so tight that neither of you were breathing.

You grinned.

And yanked his underwear and jeans down at the same time.

You probably wouldn’t have tried this shit if it was someone else. Jungkook was habitual creature. The kind where he kept a small tube of hand sanitizer on him at all times, and you would catch him using it all the time, so absentmindedly that it seemed to have become second nature. He would do it after getting off the train. Walking aimlessly. Standing at your front door as you opened it, rubbing his hands together and directly looking at you, cocking an eyebrow.

The first time you noticed this action you thought he was being a creep before you realized it was hand sanitizer he was putting back into his pocket. He was not, in fact, imitating eccentric cartoon villain behavior. Had you in the first half, not gonna lie.

“What?”

It had been a pointed what at that time.

This time it was a sexually charged and gravelly, “What…?”

You squatted down and took his right hand, turning it palm up. Opened your mouth and drenched saliva all over his palm and fingers, the clean citrus scent of his hand sanitizer hitting your nose, hearing him hiss and feeling him tense. The tendons of his wrist stood out, black ink of his tattoos creeping out under the sleeve of the leather jacket. Your tongue lingered against the texture of his calluses along the top of his palm.

Guess he had been working out his frustrations.

“F-Fuck!”

You wrapped his spit-covered hand around his stiff length. Instinct and arousal and the slippery, tight, pleasurable sensation beat out any protest he had about what was happening, firmly and quickly jacking himself off right in front of your face. You calmly watched the glossy, swollen head pop in and out between his tightened fingers. All colors were desaturated due to the dark apartment. Didn’t matter. You had seen it enough times to know what he looked like.

You looked up.

Jungkook was looking down, gasping, the visible strain making his shoulders tremble. Jaw clenched, dark irises glassy, you’re so fucking pretty, shit, and you stuck out your tongue, enjoying the power. He shuddered, gripping himself tighter. Using your left hand, you hooked a thumb under the hem of your shirts, pushing them up, up, over your barely-covered breasts, revealing your hard nipples straining against the tiny black bikini top.

Those large brown eyes went wide, his lips parting.

“Oh, fuck…”

You used your right hand to shove the thin fabric away, scooping your breasts closer together to give him a good view, securing your left hand against your shoulder, easily holding the bunched-up fabric. Grinned, not hiding how pleased you were at his reaction. You lowered your right knee to the ground, stabilizing yourself.

And, now that your right hand was free, you reached forward and smacked his balls.

His black hair whipped in the air as his head snapped back, moaning sharply at the sudden impact. You slapped them again, and again. It was slightly slick from your own spit. Fast and firm. Not hard, since Jungkook hadn’t quite expressed the level he wanted yet, but then his head fell forward, erratic gasps and pupils blown out, squeezing the head of his cock hard, his entire body shaking.

“Harder,” he groaned out, depraved and deep.

You did as you were told, smacking harder and spreading out the hit over the entire area, keeping yourself exposed for him.

“Fuck… f-fuck…”

It was loud, lewd, and wet. His hand moving fast, and your fingertips repeatedly punishing his balls, his hips shaking in ecstasy. The scent of sex mixing with his crisp cologne, deliciously dirtying it. He turned his hand so it was palm up, knuckles down. You spat on his closed fingers and Jungkook moaned even louder, tipping his head back, sweat glistening along his throat.

Spit dripping down.

A bit of a mess, truly.

His head snapped back, fucked-out gaze, his voice rough and hoarse.

“Can… Can you breathe on me…?”

You leaned forward and parted your lips. Keeping eye contact, sliding your tongue out, and exhaled. Slow, heavy, saturated with warmth, leisurely drifting over his fast, tight grip on his hard cock. His eyes squeezed shut, drawn-out groan thundering in his chest. You did it again and his eyes opened, rolling back slightly, his lashes fluttering. You increased the pressure on his balls. The sharp smacks getting louder, wet thrusts, sensual sighs mixing with his desperate whine, and Jungkook tipped his hips down, fixated on watching himself cum onto your tongue and down your throat.

Hot, thick streaks.

You tilted your head back, drinking his orgasm down as you locked eyes with him, electric bliss simmering through your veins. His short black hair was damp with sweat. The strange feeling came back again, somewhere between a dream and reality, yet unmistakable clarity.

Fuck.

You were both sinking.

Shit.

-

“Don’t stop.”

To be honest, Jungkook didn’t like missionary for the sheer reason that she was too damn powerful in this position. Face too damn pretty. Tits too damn perfect. Legs on his shoulders letting him get too damn deep, soft thighs against his hard abs, pussy clenching around every centimeter of his length and not letting up, her hips smacking up every time he thrust down. Okay. It just felt too fucking good. It was a damn problem. He had to grind his teeth and fuck hard so he could slow down and not cum too fast. One would think the second orgasm would be difficult to reach, but one would be fucking wrong. His was rock-hard once she was naked and even harder when she dipped her fingers into her wet pussy to smear her juices over the throbbing head of his cock before he rolled the condom down.

“Are you a virgin or what – fuck!”

She was giving him that smug smirk of hers.

It both pissed him off and made him so damn happy.

A bitch faking it would be imitating shitty porn right now. That was why he never did missionary with any other women before her. It just made him limp. Better it hit it from the back and not have to look at their faces.

God, she was so fucking pretty.

“Always a virgin, only for you,” she snickered.

“I feel so fucking special,” Jungkook growled back, emphasizing each word by pounding her into the mattress.

He did, though.

Somewhere between dream and reality. That strange feeling as he watched her hands grip her pillows, her features softening as she fell into the pleasure, smacking her hips into his, their breathless moans blending together, primal harmony, and he knew he was well and truly fucked because instead of only drowning in the physical sensations of shoving his cock into that tight, wet hole, Jungkook was thinking about how he would wake up and bury his face in her hair the next morning, inhaling the scent of her sweet and smokey perfume, hoping other people could smell her on him, thinking about how lovely it would be to look over and see those eyes roaming over his face, every day and every night.

Well.

Shit.

She clenched around him particularly hard and Jungkook snapped out of his daydream.

Back into his lustful nightdream.

“Harder,” she hissed out, narrowing her eyes.

He was going to gasp, fuck you, but he was doing that already and there was no time to think because she sank lower into the mattress, angling her hips ever-so-slightly, and it was so deep, so good, so tight, losing his mind. Sweat dripping down his chest. He tucked his head back, trying not to get it all over her, bending his elbows and locking his muscles, driving his back and hips into his thrust, bending her in half and neither of them could breathe, closer, clawing up to the high, fast and intense and coiling tight in his chest, sinking down, down, deep down.

Airless.

His orgasm crashed into him so hard that his arms almost gave out.

“Fuck, Jungkook!”

He was sure that the noise that came out of him was not one he wanted to be self aware of. Something between a choked groan and whining moan, lost in the pulsating walls shivering against his jerking cock, wave after wave burning through him. The high seared him like electricity and the aftermath was layers of sparks building over his skin, tingling nerves and forgetting about anything else, suspended in this feeling.

Then his muscles screamed from fatigue and Jungkook realized his back was alarmingly sweaty.

“A… ah, hah…”

She plucked the white hand towel from her nightstand and flung it over his shoulder, falling back into the pillows and gasping.

He was in the middles of wiping his face before he realized that she didn’t have a towel there the first time he came over. But a towel was always there every other time he had showed up after. Either white or dark gray. Always fluffy. He looked down. Her eyes were closed, her pants slowing down to heavy breaths. She hadn’t been looking at him during his epiphany.

She smacked his arm for a second time before he realized she was trying to get his attention.

“Put my legs down, damn…”

“Oh, shit, right…”

It took him a moment to untangle himself. She went to the bathroom, as she usually did. Their clothes were all over the floor. Leather pants. Mesh shirt. The bathing suit top. Panties. His tank top. Black boxer briefs. His jacket and jeans were out there somewhere in the hall outside the bedroom. He noticed a pair of folded gray sweatpants and white shirt sitting on the corner of her room, randomly atop a low bookshelf. He had put them there a week ago. Just in case. She hadn’t moved it.

Jungkook breathed out.

He patted his temple.

I’m in idiot.

Then vigorously dried his hair.

The feeling came back when it was his turn to clean up in the bathroom and he saw his clear hair tie by her sink. A little tangled up from use, next to a pair of clear earplugs. He should probably check his phone and tell his friends that he was fine, but it was somewhere out there in his jeans and Jungkook wasn’t going to go hunting for it right now.

He went back to the bedroom.

Damn, she was so stunning even simply lying in bed. Her gray duvet was only covering her lower half, her forearm draped over her eyes. Amazing breasts. He took a moment to ogle them, perfect nipples and all.

“Stop staring at my tits.”

Well, shit.

She raised her arm and cocked her eyebrow at him.

Not saying anything, but the message came across quite clear.

Jungkook draped the hand towel over his shoulder and picked up the gray sweatpants from the bookshelf, yanking them over his legs before looking up again. Those shadowed eyes were watching him carefully. Surprise but not quite believing. He left the t-shirt and dropped the towel onto the floor, walking over to the other side of the bed and throwing himself down onto the mattress, making her body bounce.

Side eye.

“What?”

He shrugged.

“I’m tired.”

She frowned at him.

“Oh, yeah?”

He nodded.

“Yeah.”

He used his elbows to scoot himself to the pillows, resting his chin on the backs of his hands to look down at her. Her eyes followed the sleeve of tattoos on his right arm. Down and then up. Observing his facial expression carefully.

“Can’t stay too late?” she whispered. Somewhere between a taunt and weariness.

It broke his heart a little, hearing his own words said back to him. He moved one hand and lifted her forearm from her brows, seeing more of her face now. The mood lighting was still on. Points of color dancing over the ceiling above them. They reflected in her eyes even as she faced him.

Jungkook could smell her perfume, soft and sweet and not yet clinging to his skin.

“Can I stay the night?”

Her eyes narrowed. “And why would you wanna to that?”

He shrugged, realizing now that it had never been a no.

“Boyfriends stay over at their girlfriends’ places sometimes. Free breakfast.”

She rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed.

“The shit you pull, Jeon Jungkook.”

He leaned down. Had to fight for the kiss. Hands on wrists. His chest pressed against her breasts. When their lips touched, he could feel her smiling, so Jungkook smiled too and kissed her deeply.

--

masterpost

[vomitspit2]

"Moray eels are large predators and their jaw structure reflects this. Moray eels not only have sharp teeth that can be seen, but they have a double jaw and a double set of teeth." .........

And… have you seen his tongue?

Could you share your Jade thoughts regarding this? 🙏

-🔮anon (can i be 🔮 anon?)

trey is leagues behind me ... orin scrivello looks like a patsy next to me ... the opportunity to talk about the double set of jaws/teeth (๑òᗜó) thank you 🔮 anon, i've been waiting for this moment to be a freed freak!!!!

my immediate thought is bloody kisses because i'm weak for a bit of blood in the foreplay orz

perhaps ..... first tongue kiss with jade!!! you and him using tongue for the first time in a kiss, both of you a little apprehensive about finding that correct rhythm and perfecting the right technique ... both of you flushed in the face, nestled close and experimentally swiping and twisting your tongues together ... with the short length of your tongue's tip, you just happen to breach past and underneath jade's first set of teeth while kissing.

now the poor eel has never had anything in his mouth besides food ... it's only instinct ... that his double jaw slides out like some xenomorph and bites your tongue hard.

the gloved hands on the sides of your face urgently fall away when you yelp in pain. he blinks at you. you blink at him.

a mediocre puddle of your blood stains the front of your shirt. your mouth hangs open like an overheated dog's, a growing mass of slippery red waterfalls from your chin.

here comes the breakup, jade thinks in a moment of rare whirling panic. "My." he watches you pant, brows creased in obvious pain. "My apologies, i hadn't thought --"

whatever hesitance about technique or rhythm or something minor like that is gone from you as you are suddenly pushing your boyfriend down on ramshackle's creaky couch. he blinks at you. you blink at him.

jade blinks a second time because a dot of your blood has just landed on his upper lip like a drawn mole.

and before jade can ask a question - because he surely cannot comprehend the wicked, spiraling intensity in your eyes - or make another silly apology, you are putting two fingers in his agape mouth ... orz and pulling his jaw down to the point where he double-chins orz orz ... and you're just staring at the slight shadows and slight glints of his secondary teeth ( ⌬̀⌄⌬́ )

poor, unfortunate jade. wondering what's he gonna do after the break up and you'll like .... 'this is so hot and everything i've wanted' lmaooo

it resolves itself because you obviously keep kissing. even when he uses his handkerchief to wipe down all the blood that has gotten on your chin and apologizes, you remain on a blissful cloud nine.

i think jade would go out of his way to use his secondary jaws if he knew it arouses you so thoroughly. you want to see him kill live prey? you know, it's quite ungentlemanly to feast with an open mouth. well ... no show is without a fee so bring a good offer for such an exclusive sight.

OR; the first tongue kiss and jade underestimates how much longer and thicker his tongue is compared to yours. a tongue can only reach to about the gates of another person's teeth, there's not much length to get to the back of throat while kissing ... but not with jade!!!!

nope, you're going to find yourself very overwhelmed when what feels like a crawling snake is doing twists around your tongue, reaching to scrape at your uvula, each stroke of your tongue is reciprocated with double the intent from mr. jade leech.

very very polite jade who kisses like an insatiable slut orz.