#the glow in their eyes more visible!
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xelitzenith · 1 month ago
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Operator visual rework interesting.
Hey de make them look more void fucked up!
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kizzer55555 · 9 months ago
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DP x DC: My Brother’s Ghost
So there are a bunch of fics where Danny and Damian are twins and Danny eventually has to go to Gotham or Damian/another bat interacts with Danny as ghost king. But I do you one better. Danny faked his death because of failing a mission/he actually died and his mother brought him back. (Or maybe he revived on his own after constant Lazarus exposure over time and knew he couldn’t go back). Anyways, Danny knew that he needed to go to Bruce Wayne in Gotham if he ever needed anything but only as a last resort as they would expect him to go there. So he’s been monitoring Bruce from afar and immediately knew when Damian joined the bats. He clocked him as the new Robin and started following his hero career more closely. He was content to watch his family from afar. Even after the accident. Then something happens where Robin was said to go missing and when no news showed up after a few days, Danny got worried so figured it couldn’t hurt to do a quick trip to Gotham.
He dresses in all black and a hood made using an old ninja Halloween costume. Not nearly as much protection as his old league uniform but with his ghost powers he doesn’t really need protection. Just anonymity. He goes to Gotham in phantom form, making sure all his white hair is carefully tucked in the black hood so only his green eyes remain. He uses his old assassin training and finds Robin drugged and captured in an old warehouse by the court of owls. Robin clearly isn’t thinking straight but Danny puts him in a simple choke hold to knock him unconscious anyways. Better safe than sorry. He quickly frees the boy and drops him off in an area he knows the other bats are searching. After watching to make sure Damian is safe and a bat finds him, he leaves.
Damian could barely remember his capture but he thought he saw a figure in black with glowing green eyes. He could have sworn the future was trying to kill him but…he woke up looking at another bat (or maybe even the manor). Did his family save him?
Meanwhile, Danny can’t stop thinking about Damian. Despite his assassin training, he was drugged and hurt. Danny thought his brother could handle himself. He thought he would be safe. But what if this happened again? What if the colony of bats wasn’t enough? So Danny couldn’t help the occasional visit to Gotham to make sure his twin was ok. Most of the time he didn’t do anything, just watched. Sometimes, though, there would be an instance where Damian got out of a dangerous situation and no one knew how. A building collapsed, Damian appeared unharmed outside. A goon was about to get a lucky shot? Somehow the bullet missed or the goon got taken out when no other bats were nearby. Fear gas? Damian faintly remembers warm hands hugging him as he struggled. And while he thought it was weird he heard his brother’s comforting voice when it should be a nightmare, he chalked it up to the fear gas anyways since there was no other explanation.
Yet every time there is a particularly dangerous encounter, he swears he sees the figure in black. Damian sees the figure more and more yet none of his family do. They swore to keep an eye out anyways in case. You never know. Sometimes the figure becomes more clear and Damian has tried to chase them but always loses them quickly. One time the chase lasted at least five minutes and Damian managed to corner the figure in an alleyway only for them to pass through the wall.
The bats suspect that this could either be meta abilities or magic. The funny thing is, there were no traces. No one sees the figure except Damian. No one hears them, and there is nothing to indicate their presence, not even footprints. It’s like they were never there and no matter how hard they try, there is no footage of the figure. Sometimes cameras glitch out and sometimes they only show Robin, sometimes neither or they seem to loop on themselves. So the bats are leaning towards Magic.
They call Constantine to give Damian a thorough check and he declares that Damian shows signs of interacting with a ghost. And that stumps everyone. A ghost? If it was a friendly specter like Deadman then he would help everyone, not just Damian. If it was hostile, it would never help Damian. So why is this ghost only focusing on the youngest bat and why? Is there even someone that would come back from the afterlife to help the demon brat, let alone have the will strong enough to manifest a ghost that can affect the living? Damian was a former assassin after all and he’s hardly the friendliest bat. So who would help him that has already died?
Throughout this, Damian is silent. Because there is one person he knows to have died that might do this. One person skilled enough to avoid the other bats and evade Damian during a chase. One person Damian would acknowledge as having a will stronger than his own. But something was wrong…because he was sure that that person didn’t have green eyes.
So the next time the figure shows himself Damian attacks. Not just a chase but an outright challenge. Hand to hand combat. And as Damian punches and kicks, the figure expertly parries each attack. And as the fight goes on, Damian watches. And he knows those moves. Those dodges. Those blocks. He can read this figure’s fighting stance like the back of his hand because he grew up with it.
And Damian knows without a shadow of a doubt as the figure disappears into he ground, that despite the changed eye color, the tan skin, the increased height, his brother’s ghost has come back to watch over him.
And for the first time in many years, Damian cries. That’s how the bats find him.
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triptychofvoids · 1 year ago
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on the topic of medic infodumping, i think if he discovers something neat (like. i dunno he's figured out how to genetically alter dna so that the person is now bioluminescent) he just instant tumbles out of his lab and pulls aside the closest approximation of a person for at minimum of three hours to infodump about it (complete with a full demonstration!!)
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hes interrupting their movie
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sarah-kings · 20 days ago
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Lights on vs lights off for one of my latest assignments
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In short: always be a funky little guy to draw fanart because that's the ticket for you putting most of your passion in it and it'll get you those sweet bonus points!
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drpicklesart · 2 months ago
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they are going to mehnahnaroo
#my art#mission to zyxx#C-53#pleck decksetter#dar mtz#ok time for some of my appearance headcanons#i was just gonna give c little dot eyes but i was goofing around with the doodle#and i was like. oh actually little light up ocular sensors that look like 👁️👁️ are kinda funny#i'm kinda trying to hit the space where the juck bot frame could conceivably have the same inner workings as the c frame#but it's got more like. idk plating and synthetic skin and stuff#i also think that ideally this type of frame is supposed to be more fully covered? with skin. less visible joints#and is supposed to have a cooler better looking face#but they got it at a discount store that sorta refurbished it juuuuuuust well enough to sell#they also mention in the show that the eyes glow and the jaw comes off#if there were any other details i forgot about them#i like tellurians to be Pretty Much Human#but I do like the pointy ears interpretation for one main reason:#i can put perfect little pointy ones on tellurians that are the Standard for good looks (rolphus etc.)#and give pleck ones that are slightly larger and a little bent. i just think that's fun#i'm also a short pleck truther and do not believe he is skinny. that man is at least midsized. actually probably just midsized#cause if he were too big he would be too cool#ohh and first time drawing the k'hekk eye yayyyy. it should probably be nastier but i can only do so much#dar i really imagine round cause it's like the classic Big Guy shape and they have no bones in their head so it can't be that structured#bodywise my design is def inspired by tikkitronictonic and snuffysbox's designs#i was at a total loss on how to interpret the talons and chutes and flaps when I was listening and this is easy and smooth#maybe the only major difference is that i imagine dar is pretty hygienic and furry scales feel like they'd be hard to keep clean#with all the uh. goings on#so i've got those across the chest and arms and then the torso is smoother in my mind#also ik dar is supposed to be like twice pleck's size but it's hard to stand these people next to each other#my brother said they made up a thing called mass shifting in transformers g1 to excuse the scale issues. so i'll do it too. get off my case
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odessastone · 1 year ago
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on the topic of my "Illari gets recruited by Talon" theory, today I got a kill streak on her and she says "I've done worse, and I'll DO worse."
Doesn't sound like a very heroic thing to say lol
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maddieandangel · 9 months ago
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Had a weird Hollow Knight-related dream a couple days ago, so I decided to draw a major scene I remembered from it dgsgshf
More context will be in the tags, for those interested!
#hollow knight#little ghost#hk ghost#the knight#hk hornet#hornet#alright. as of writing these tags it's been a week since the original dream so! let's see what i remember dgsgsgf#i was playing a game. which was a sequel to hollow knight ((Not silksong though))#there was some new sort of divine infection in hallownest and hornet had asked ghost to investigate it. they ended the last one after all!#the red glowy spike gate thingy is what you jumped into to enter the 'infected' areas#though it actually led directly to a hub world type of place. which was kinda like an expanded base for the grimm troupe?#more like an entire lair instead of a camp. also some greek gods were there for some reason lmao. they had their own special rooms too#so sidenote but- new headcanon that there are grimm troupe members named ares athena artemis &... venus lmao. not aphrodite for some reason#also monomon was there?? i think??? except she was cooking????? she had a sidequest to deliver something to someone though i dunno hdgfhdgh#i remember going back to the grimm troupe lair a couple times throughout my 'playthrough'#anyway. the 'infection' this time around was more of a glitchy physical corruption thing? rather than a mind corruption.#though there were still aggressive enemies to fight. but i remember getting a map from cornifer early on and he was. probably infected#i think part of his body was covered in electricity or something? so he wasn't fully visible? but he was still acting normally#there was also a moth who was the seer but then later wasn't the seer (but was still the same moth) dghgdhf. i delivered stuff to her#that glowing white wall thing in the drawing was like a one-way gate. you could only cross it from the other side and ghost came from there#i guess things looped back up somehow i dunno ghdgfhgf#anyway. ghost's red eyes. those are significant! those happened while i was walking through a corridor. it had pools of shallow water#(shallow enough to just walk through) and also creatures that were lightseeds but red.the implication was that they were full of Blood lmao#and as i went along killing them--as one does--as i walked through the hall. they started turning the water red too#there was also narration about this as it was happening ashdgsf. specifically the narrator said the water turned red before it actually did#ghost's eyes slowly turned red too. but aside from that they were fine! since. they're the player character and the player is perfectly fin#BUT. when they encountered hornet again. she thought they were infected. and that she lost the only family she had left </3#she didn't attack though. instead she just jumped into the red spike gate without a word. decided to try to fix everything herself#but eventually you'd encounter her again down below and she'd fight you. didn't actually get to that in the dream though#aand i'm out of tags </3 i wanted to talk about what i'd do to make this make more sense as an au or something now that i'm awake but. :c
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erabundus · 2 years ago
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someone  please  talk  me  out  of  giving  ren  tapetum  lucidum.
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kooldewd123 · 3 months ago
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the thing i immediately LOVE about the pale garden and the creaking is that it kinda feels to me like they're trying to emulate the creep factor that old minecraft had. the low visibility, the emptiness, the unfamiliar sounds, the feeling that something else is there just out of sight... the same elements that led to the rise of herobrine and other stories, and are now seeing a resurgence with the rise of args and digital horror series. looking into a dark forest and seeing a set of glowing eyes staring back at you is the exact same horror that herobrine was built on. seeing them showcase this biome felt like a throwback all the way to back when i first booted up the game more than a decade ago and felt an immense sense of unease as i looked to the horizon, and i absolutely cannot wait to get my hands on this update.
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science-lings · 3 months ago
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slightly-knot-insane · 5 months ago
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Wet Pillow
"Please..." His growls are strained. The rope is tight around his pulsating neck. He is swallowing hard, his tongue out, drooling. He is kneeling, shaking from want and need. His throbbing cock is barely visible between his legs. It is twitching up and down, pathetically wanting to be shoved in you.
"No", you reply, just out of his reach. "You were a bad boy."
"Please." His cock bobs and drips. "Let me lick your pussy. Let me taste your skin, at least."
You laugh. "That would be a reward, wouldn't it? Here, take this pillow. I slept on it last night."
You throw a small pillow to him and he grabs it with his clawed hand. He sniffs it, inhaling your scent, moaning something incomprehensible into it before pushing it between his legs. He leans forward, as much as the rope allows him to, and starts grinding against the pillow. He locks his eyes with yours - they are glowing and burning with lust. His hips thrust forward into the fabric and his cock futilely tries to impale it. His foreskin pulls back from friction, his red glans exposed to the texture. He grunts with every thrust, intensifying with every next hip movement, not once breaking eye contact, until he orgasms on the floor and that poor pillow.
"Aaah... ahhh..." He keeps rubbing his cock, smearing his cum all over the damp fabric, kneading the tiny pillow with his fingers.
You know he's not satisfied. His eyes are glowing between the strands of his hair. He wants more and he will find a way to take it.
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joelsgoldrush · 5 months ago
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“give me all of that ultraviolence” | 2k
logan howlett x f!reader
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SUMMARY: You give Logan head for the first time.
WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ implied age gap. dirty talk. kind of inexperienced reader. oral sex (m receiving). face fucking. dom!logan. a tiny bit of degradation. he guides you through the whole experience (shocking!!! i know)
AUTHOR’S NOTE: HI PALS!!! yes i'm alive and kicking. yes university is killing me. so recently i’ve been OBSESSED with this man and i needed to write something for him. english is not my first language and i may have made some mistakes (if you encounter any you can tell me, i won't mind it). comments/likes/reblogs would be highly appreciated. i've got sooooo many ideas to write and i'm finally getting my hands on them. i missed you all so fucking much. hope you enjoy this!!!
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It’s common knowledge that all humans have needs. Try as you may, there’s a primitive side that you can’t spare yourself from. You, as everybody else, have urges.
“Logan,” you basically mewl his name, five letters that roll off your tongue with little effort. He doesn’t seem to acknowledge you, his kisses growing harsher on the delicate skin of your neck. Threading your fingers through his hair, you decide to try again, speaking a bit louder this time. “Logan, please.”
“What is it, honey?” he says, bitten lips still pressed to your pulse point. As you remain silent, he looks up at you, those big, brown eyes that you love so dearly almost completely dark now. “Do you want to call it a day?”
His question catches you off-guard. You cup his face, thumbs caressing his cheekbones, suddenly afraid that he might pull away from you. “No! Not at all. That’s- that’s not what I want at all, actually.”
“What do you want, then? You can tell me,” he kisses you on the lips, softly at first. What starts as nothing more than a sweet kiss turns into a needier one, his hard on poking you through your shorts. “Come on. Tell me, baby. What does my sweet girl want?”
“I want to suck you off, Logan,” you whisper as you latch your mouth onto his, and you can feel how he visibly tenses beneath you. His breath hitches in his throat when you grind your hips. “I really need it.”
From the very beginning of your relationship, you had made things crystal clear: you didn’t have much experience on this territory. For a man his age, he was totally understanding. He knew you had your own times, that for him to take you to bed would take longer. Truth be told, Logan was willing to go to the ends of the world for you. There was no use in forcing anything.
At present, the bulge amid his legs becomes even more noticeable as you get off his lap, playing with his belt. “Can I?” you ask him, amazed at how straightforward you’re being.
Logan stares at you, so far panting, lust glowing in his eyes. “Shit, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters as he helps you undress him. His worn out jeans end up pooling around his ankles, and you locate yourself in between his legs. 
You’re on your knees, hands folded in front of you. Suddenly, it hits you, the shame of it all. How badly you want him, how desperate you are to feel the weight of his cock on your tongue. How many nights you’ve dreamt of this moment, unable to stop that unbearable need of touching yourself every time you thought about pleasuring him.
That’s what you truly want. For him to use you.
“What’s wrong, princess? We’ve talked about this a lot of times. You know what to do,” you can’t help but stare at his crotch as you listen to him, and then he raises your chin with his finger, your lips parting unconsciously. You blink slowly at him, eyelashes fluttering together. At last, he seems to understand what you’re trying to tell him, and he raises his eyebrows, that cocky grin of his taking place where it belongs. “You want me to guide you, don’t you? Want me to tell you what to do? Know you like it when I go a bit off the rails.”
You moan at his words, squeezing your eyes shut and nuzzling your cheek up against his palm. Slick gathers in your panties as you push your thighs together. “Please. Tell me what to do.”
“Take it out,” he instructs you, and you do as you’re told. Grabbing him by the base, you pull his cock out of his briefs. He twitches in your hand, and he’s so, so incredibly big. 
You stroke him once, testing the feeling. This you know how to do. You’ve given him hand jobs millions of times, although this one feels particularly different from the others.
He takes hold of your fist, applying a bit of pressure. “I’m sorry, baby. I think you got it all wrong. I’m the one who makes the calls here, okay?” he grunts, his brows knitted, and you only nod, salivating at the sight of his cock already leaking precum at the tip. Logan licks his lips, curling his hand around yours. “You do as I say. Now, stroke me. Nice. And. Slow,” he punctuates each of his words by moving both your hand and his in unison around his length. “That’s it, darling. You just need someone to boss you around from time to time, ain’t I right?”
One thing to know about Logan: he’s so full of himself on a daily basis, but he just gets worse in bed.
“My mouth,” you hover your lips over the head of his cock, all shiny and soft. He has let you go, both of his arms now flexed behind his head, as if he were appreciating how pathetic you must look on your knees, begging for him to allow you to taste him. “Let me.”
“Not yet,” his hips follow your tormenting pace, seeking the warmth that your skin radiates. He grits his teeth, biting his lower lip. You’ve no idea how a man so strong can become putty in your hands like this. “Greedy girl. I’m beginning to think you’ve set me up. Only a slut would get so worked up about having a cock in her mouth. What happened to my innocent girl? Gone with the wind, huh?”
“Please, Lo. I need it so bad,” you are whining, peppering his thighs with kisses. You inhale his musky scent, getting dizzy. “Give it to me. I’ll be good.”
Out of nowhere, Logan grabs a handful of your hair, forcing you to arch your back. He scrutinizes your face, studying your blissed out demeanor. “I don’t doubt that. I’m sure you’ll be good. Otherwise, we’ll keep on trying. We have all night, and you have a good memory, just need to put it to use,” as he taps your lower lip with his tip, you catch him smirking. He repeats that same motion until he has you shivering from the excitement of being stuffed. ”Show me how much you need it. Go easy on it at first, okay? Don’t want you choking beforehand.”
You’re more than happy to comply.
Your tongue darts out to lick at his head, enveloping it between your lips. The salty taste of his precum invades your tastebuds, and you moan as you trace the veins of his cock with the pad of your thumb. “Tastes so good, Lo,” your voice sounds distant, almost unrecognizable to your own ears.
“I know, bub. Such a nice fucking mouth, can’t believe you’ve never done this before. I guess you’re a natural,” shaky fingers place a strand of hair behind your ears, patting your head as if you were a dog in heat. “Do you feel like bobbing your head a little?” he asks you, and you prepare yourself, attaching your mouth to his head once again. “Good. That’s good.”
With that being said, Logan fists your hair once again and shoves your face down, his hard cock tickling your throat. Your whines and his rapid breaths are the only sounds to be heard in your bedroom. He grins as he takes in the sight of you. “Oh, sweetheart. You look so beautiful with your mouth stretched around me,” his index finger taps your cheek and he feels the outline of his own cock. “You know I can smell you, right? You’re fucking soaked, baby. Think you’ll leave a stain on the carpet? You’d clean it off with your tongue, wouldn’t you?”
You have no idea how he’s coming up with these things, but you’re far from annoyed. In fact, you’ve never been this wet. Your underwear must be ruined at this point, and you wish Logan would tell you to touch yourself.
After some minutes of bobbing your head up and down, he pulls you off his cock and you breathe through your mouth for the first time in a while. As you gasp for air, Logan kisses you, tasting himself. He massages the back of your neck, his cock throbbing between the two of you. “You tired?”
Your glossy eyes widen. Shaking your head, you go for his balls this time, sucking one of them while toying with the other. Logan buries his hands in your hair for what must be the hundredth time in the night, unable to stop himself. “F-fuck, that’s it. A pretty girl like you just gets what she needs,” he praises you, and you return to his length, taking as many inches as you can without hurting yourself. Tears shimmer in your eyes, yet you can’t bring yourself to care about that detail. You’re far too focused on Logan’s grunts and growls. “Keep that up and I’ll come. You heard me? You’re gonna make me fucking come, bub.”
His words ignite a fire inside you. You use your hands, your mouth, everything that you have to pleasure him. He’s getting closer and closer, thighs shaking when you pay special attention to his tip. Logan responds to each of your movements, and as you feel every coherent thought fly out the window, you try to take him all the way down your throat, breathing through your nose and swallowing around him. He cants his hips up, brutally fucking your mouth. Like a dog without a leash, Logan seems to get lost in the warmth that envelopes his cock, chasing his own release. “You’re such a good girl. My good girl. Nobody will fuck this mouth ever again. I’ll ruin you for any pathetic guy that tries to get in your pants. You’re fucking mine, darling. Oh, f-fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck-”
You’re met with his happy trail once he spills his hot load inside your mouth. He keeps you trapped there, his cock twitching and spamming through the aftershocks of his orgasm. You don’t think twice and swallow what he’s giving you. Some of his cum slips from your lips, falling directly onto the carpet. Even Logan seems surprised when he doesn’t stop coming.
He helps you stand up after a moment, kissing you as soon as he gets the chance. He licks into your mouth, squeezing the flesh of your hips. Logan lifts his eyebrows, relishing how cock-drunk you must look. “I think you nearly killed me. And that’s a lot to say coming from someone who cannot fucking die.”
You plaster a smile on your face, hugging his wide frame. “So, was I okay?”
His jaw goes slack, and he lowers his head to capture your lips in another kiss. “You were fantastic. I could easily get hard again just from thinking about it,” his fingers trace the buttons of your shirt, tugging at the fabric of it. “What if you let me focus on yourself for a while? You’ve already done enough, baby. Let me take care of you,” he rubs his hands on your thighs, reaching for your drenched panties. “Perhaps we could try something else today. That pussy’s begging to be fucked.” 
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dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)
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poguehearted77 · 2 months ago
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Baby Steps
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Summary: You and Rafe are expecting your first child and decide to take a trip to the beach, not expecting to be joined by a guest with chubby cheeks and pull ups.
-some more domesticated rafe as per your request-
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The golden hues of the late afternoon sun stretch across the horizon, casting a warm glow over the beach as you and Rafe arrive. You smile at the feeling of the hot sand between your toes.
The waves lazily lap against the shore, creating a serene soundtrack to your special day. It was a beautiful day out, for sure. With the cooler gripped in one hand, with the umbrella on top, and the box containing a special mini cake in his other hand, Rafe is already in full preparation mode.
“Here, let me help with that,” you offer, but Rafe shakes his head, his grin both charming and determined. "You're already carrying something valuable, let me handle the rest, okay?" Rafe reassures you as he places the items down in a nice vacated space.
Far enough from the waves to not get wet, but close enough to still hear the water cracking against the sand at an amplified volume as the perfect white noise for you to do some beach reading. You glance down at your rounded belly, letting your left hand rest over the precious cargo he's referring to.
"I'm only four months, babe. I can still carry things. Just let me help you set up at least." You hold onto the muscle of his upper arm with a soft frown and he can't resist. An idea visibly dawned upon him. "Yeah, you know what." He props open the cooler and pulls out a chilled bottle of water, "I need you to drink this, I don't want you to get too hot."
Your eyes roll and you take the bottle, about to ease yourself down onto the beach chair when Rafe is suddenly behind you, a guiding palm on your lower back to lighten your load as you sit down. "Rafe, you're joking, right? I know how to sit down by myself." You huff and he sees you're starting to get frustrated.
He crouches down to be near you, "Look, baby. I'm sorry, okay? It's all just so new to me and I don't want anything to happen to you or the baby especially not if I can help it." Your arms unfold, and your composure melts under his apologetic gaze.
How could you be mad at him? He was just so cute and excited to be a dad, he wanted to make sure you had the safest, most comfortable pregnancy possible, and he made sure of that at all times. He set up everything while you didn't lift a finger.
You'd even slipped into a light nap as he did so. Waking up under the shade of the beach umbrella and almost certain there was an extra layer of sunscreen on your arms that wasn't there before.
Your towels laid out on the sand in front of you where Rafe knelt, the cake now put away in the cooler as he organized the supplies in the first-aid kit he insisted on bringing along.
"Is this all you're gonna do all day?" You mumble, lifting up your sun hat a bit to see him better and he smiles. "Well, you fell asleep on me, so I was keeping myself busy." Taking that as your cue to stand, leaving your hat behind on the chair and untying the flowy coverup you'd been wearing.
"I'm up now, let's get in the water." He's right behind you as your heels kick up sand with your eager steps to the ocean. Your laughs blend harmoniously in the water. Playful splashes and stolen kisses fill your afternoon for the next hour until you're ready for lunch.
Now Rafe was lounging under the shade, sunglasses covering his sky-blue eyes as he relaxed on the chair. Meanwhile, you enjoyed the warm sun kissing your skin as you sat on the towel, preparing some sandwiches for you both to share.
That brings you to now, the two of you sitting on the sandy towels with satiated appetites and a pleased smile on your faces, enjoying each other's company. "You ready now?" Rafe proposes, referring to the mini cake in the cooler which had either a pink or blue filling. You shake your head.
"Not yet, I need more time." He laughs, "At this rate, you'll find out when the baby comes." He says casually and your brow arches, "Only me? Don't you mean the both of us?" His head shakes, "Uh uh, I'm eating that cake with or without you." He jokes and you swat at him, causing him to spill some water from the bottle he was sipping before putting it away.
His attention was stolen from you and focused on something behind you, before you could even turn your head, Rafe's reflexes are shown as his arms reach out for the tumbling toddler who'd tripped over the uneven terrain and it seems she'd been running at a pace faster than her chunky legs could keep up with.
"Woah! Hey there, pudding," The nickname rolls off Rafe's tongue so naturally you hardly even recognize it, she looks up at him from within his stronghold. "Hi!" She waves and Rafe smiles so big it warms your heart to see.
"Where are your parents?" He follows up but she busies herself with the chain around his neck, blabbering the words 'Dada' in the sweetest voice you'd ever heard.
Rafe's eyes crinkle at the corners with his smile as he looks at you, mouthing the words, "She's so cute" and you mouth back, "I know," "I wonder where her parents are." You say, checking the tag on her swim top for any signs of identification but nothing. The two of you stand, the toddler hanging off Rafe's side, having the time of her life with a cheeky smile.
The two of you paced the beach, up and down. "I know her parents are worried sick," You mutter, checking your phone for any services you can contact for a 'lost baby on the beach please help!'
"If they don't come back, do you think we can keep her?" Rafe inquires and you laugh, "It's probably every parent's nightmare to hear a stranger say that as you're holding their missing child." You say, stopping in your tracks and placing your hands on your back with a sigh, worn out from all the walking.
"Are you okay?" Rafe checks in and you nod, "Maybe we should just go back and wait? Her parents might be walking around too and we keep missing them." Rafe agrees and the three of you walk back to your place on the beach, each of you holding her hand as she had insisted on being put down.
You kept her busy once you returned to your spot, building sand castles and giving her some water and sunscreen to keep her hydrated and protected from the slowly setting sun.
"How old are you?" Rafe laughs at your attempts to have full conversations with who he assumes is a two-year-old, but your guess was three. "Me Ava." She says and your eyes widen. Your initial question remained unanswered but now you had other answers.
"Ava! Hi Ava!" You coo, tickling her tummy until she's a bundle of fits and giggles, completely oblivious to the longing look Rafe has on you. "Tummy!" She says, and you laugh, not sure what she's talking about until she places a hand on your belly. "Big tummy!" She repeats and Rafe can't help but stifle a laugh at her direct observation.
"That's right. There's a baby in here." You explain but her head tilts, lost. "Baby?" You gave the soft waves of her hair a gentle pat, admiring her innocence, "Yep, it's either a girl baby or a boy baby." To your surprise, she begins chanting for a 'boy baby'. "See, Ava gets it." Rafe teases, always taking the opportunity to talk about having the boy he so desperately begs you for as if you had any say in the matter.
"Hungry," She whines and that sends Rafe digging into the cooler for snacks. You let her decide which fruit she wanted but her eye had caught sight of the mini container of cake that had been taken out in order to find the other items.
"Looks like she knows what she wants," Rafe smiles and you think about it, "We can't give her sugar, Rafe. Here, do you want some watermelon?" Her focus now is on the juicy red fruit you presented to her on a plate.
She must be fond of it, slurping up the juices and making a mess of her top. Fortunately, it was later washed off with the salt water when Rafe insisted on playing with her after she'd digested her food.
The sun was slowly beginning to set and the three of you had been lounging around for the last thirty minutes or so, when Ava made a loud shriek, "Mama!" She yelled, hopping off the towel and into her mom's arms.
Ava's mom graces you with a tight hug and a desperate stream of never-ending apologies and gratitude. She congratulated you on the little one you were expecting, confident you'd be amazing parents. "Now, what do you say to the nice people who watched you, Ava?" Her mom prompts, with what you could imagine is a very secure hold on Ava's hand, ensuring she doesn't slip away again.
"Thank you!" She beams, showing off her tiny baby teeth and you feel a twinge of sadness at the thought of her leaving. The last two hours, though chaotic, gave you the reassurance you were looking for with the whole parenting thing.
You wave them goodbye and you take a deep breath, "I'm ready," You don't have to explain anything more and you're both walking back to your spot to cut the cake. Only to see a toddler-sized footprint in it that Ava must've caused as she got up, denting the container and the contents inside smushing against its confines.
Pink.
"Wait…" You say, in disbelief, kneeling down with Rafe doing the same. "Are we-" He says, eyes misting over and you call him out, "Hey, I thought you wanted a boy." He holds you close, "I thought so too, but I'm honestly just glad it's with you." He brings you in for a kiss on your forehead. She's so loved already and she doesn't even know it.
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k9wa · 9 months ago
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𑣲 RILE HIM UP ! ft BOOTHILL.
⠀ — your least favourite cyborg is brought back to you a mangled mess.
⠀ OR
⠀ — being boothill’s mechanic when you lowkey can’t stand each other.
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⚠︎ sweet sweet tension, a little suggestive towards the end, gn reader (no referring pronouns), can they fuck already, this was ib by his lightcone, wc 1.9k
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boothill's eyes flickered to life, emitting a faint glow of red as his systems began to reboot.
a pair of familiar red pupils met yours, two crosshairs fading into sight as boothill regained his sight and— to your dismay— consciousness.
as the cyborg regained his motion he attempted a step forward, only to realise he didn’t have the feet or legs to do so. the only thing keeping him powered on were some metal claws screwed into his back and a few loose cables connecting to your terminals.
“sugar plum,” boothill's scruffy voice cut through the silence. “do y'care to explain where my legs might’a run off to?”
you actually cocked an eyebrow. how the hell were you supposed to know? boothill was brought back to you in a mess of scraps and wiring— the damn hunk of metal was lucky you made him as blast proof as possible and he was left salvageable. 
“care to tell me how the hell you got this roughed up?”
you asked in turn, crouching down to look at the detached and ruined internals of boothill's torso where the stand-in wires were connected. you ran a finger carefully along the edge of his shredded metallic stomach.
“guess i didn't make you as smart as i thought. time for a newer model, maybe?”
boothill's eyes flickered down to his missing lower half, then to your hand that was more or less caressing him. it was amazing how much annoyance they could show in all their artificial glory.
“look who’s talkin.” the cowboy grumbled, pointy fangs poking out in an irritated grin. 
“how ‘bout, ‘gee, boothill! i’m real glad y’ain’t get blown to smithereens beyond repair!’” 
“it would've been less work for me if whoever blew you up finished the job.”
you sighed as you stood up, putting a hand lazily on your hip.
“how’d it happen?”
boothill bit back another argument with a gruff chuckle.
“some real cutie-pies i was huntin’ down had a lil’ more firepower than i expected. guess they didn’t appreciate me spoilin’ their party.”
boothill visibly cringed as his insult was substituted with some cutesy nickname mid explanation.
“and can you fix my beautiful synesthesia beacon already? this thing is drivin’ me up the wall.”
the request fell on deaf ears as your fingers typed something on your laptop, likely another string of code.
“you’re more concerned about your censor than how long it’s gonna take me to put your legs back on…” you sighed to yourself, still leaned over your workbench, eyes focused on your screen.
“i'm not touching it right now. you’re lucky i’m even letting you stay sentient after this.”
boothill snorted at the remark, brows furrowing in a steady grimace.
“well, ‘scuse me for wantin’ to speak freely–  i’m a grown man!” his pointy teeth shone as they peeked out again in a grin.
“y’know what? just leave yer lil’ tools and all the pieces there— i’ll get my legs back on myself. don’t need no charity work from the likes’a you.” he laughed. “heck, may even give myself a new pecker while i'm at it!”
the mechanic had half a mind to listen, sit back and watch boothill struggle to reassemble himself just to prove a point and simultaneously bask in his embarrassment when the former realised it wasn’t possible.
(not that he would’ve admitted defeat– you would have begrudgingly stepped in and helped before he inevitably messed up his wiring more.)
you stepped back over to boothill, hands moving to hold his cheeks so you could tilt his face side to side to check for any more damage.
“cool it, cowboy.” your eyes squinted in focus as they looked at boothill's, lightly tugging up on his eyelid to check for scratches or cracks.
“i'll get you back up and running, just lose the attitude already.”
boothill's eyes narrowed as he felt your touch on his face. the temperature difference of warm fingers on his cold, mechanical body stirring an oddity where his gut should have been. though he tried to ignore it, the sensation was there, clear as day against all his artificial nerve endings. 
“real easy for you to say,” he huffed, avoiding your eyes as he was examined like a broken toy. “let’s see how peachy you are when yer all strung up and legless, love muffin.”
that censor really was gonna drive him insane.
“just get it over with.'' boothill muttered in annoyance. “and try not t’fuss anythin’ up.”
it took quite some time, as expected, for you to successfully reattach boothill’s legs and fix his mangled midsection. when you were finally finished, you tugged out any leftover wires that connected boothill to your terminals and pushed back in your wheelie chair to beckon the cowboy forward. you pushed your glasses up to your forehead, some hair getting swept out of your eyes with them.
“feel fine?”
boothill rolled his ankles and bent his knees, giving his legs a good stretch to test their mobility.
“mighty fine,” he responded, satisfied to feel they were weighted and moved the same as before. “though i can’t say i’m lovin’ the breeze up my backside.” 
boothill glanced down at himself, steel body completely bare and lacking any of his signature clothing. 
“got my pants lyin’ around anywhere, sugar plum?”
you pointed to another table in the room, where boothills clothes— (or rather the new ones you had to go and get—) were neatly folded, his hat placed on top of them. 
boothill went to get himself dressed, hoisting up his bell bottomed pants and sliding on his jacket. he stole a glance in your direction every so often, resisting the childish urge to roll his eyes at the mere sight of you.
the artificial man hit a small bump in the road as he went to zip his jacket (could you really call it that with how little it covered?) up—  his fingers weren’t responding as well as they should have been. he could open and close his fist, but lacked the precision to pinch and hold the zipper.
“hey, honeybun,'' boothill called over to you with a furrowed brow. “didn’t i tell you not to go fudgin’ anythin’ up?”
you, in all your overtired glory groaned, turning around in your chair and waving boothill back over.
“what are you talking about?” 
“my cute lil’ fingers ain’t workin’ that’s what i’m talkin’ ‘bout!”
boothill's footsteps were clunky and loud as he stomped his way back over to his mechanic.
you reached for his hand, an uncharacteristic gentleness in your touch as you examined five mechanical fingers.
“make a fist,”
boothill obeyed, curling his fingers into his palm.
“open it,”
he obeyed again, letting them open and relax.
“hold up two fingers,”
boothill tried, but his fingers got stuck halfway into the motion, locking at the joints.
“son of a bitch.” you sighed, turning for one of your tools. “sit back down.”
boothill grumbled and went to hoist himself back onto the workbench.
“least one o’us can say it…” 
“do you want me to fix you or not?”
“i'm sittin’ ain’t i??”
you pulled boothill's shirt off his left shoulder and popped open a tiny panel on the curve of his neck, sliding your glasses back on to the bridge of your nose. with a lean forward you began carefully looking at a few thin wires that filled the space.
boothill tapped his fingers against the tabletop while you worked, that same oddity as before settling in his now repaired gut. he rarely got messed up enough for you and him to spend this much time together, or for you to have to really be in such close proximity.
it’s not uncomfortable, but the feeling is by no means familiar. it’s actually a little embarrassing– a galaxy ranger, a space cyborg and expert hunter, feeling almost flustered at some close contact like some kind of shy little girl.
“something the matter?”
boothill nearly jumped as you spoke up quietly to check on him, voice quiet and so close to his ear he had to refrain from leaning both closer and away.
“nah, everything’s just dandy.” boothill’s voice followed yours– quieter and a little softer as a result of the closeness.
“you’re sure?” you looked up from the small mess of wires, eyes glancing up at your cyborg over the rim of your glasses. “might as well fix anything else that’s bugging you while i’m here.”
boothill would have swallowed if he had the need to lubricate his throat. he shook his head, turning to look somewhere— anywhere else.
yours lingered on him, albeit briefly, observing the clench of his jaw and the way he tried to shift in his seat without being disruptive to your work. he didn’t see the little smirk tug at your lips as you refocused on the task at hand.
boothill’s cybernetic limbs felt almost human in their sensitivity, sending faux shivers up a spine he didn’t even have. the mechanics fingers running down his forearm are doing him no favours as they move to hold his hand again.
“close your fist…open it…two fingers up…”
each command was obeyed, ten gunmetal fingers finally holding up a little peace sign.
“that should be it, come see me if they start acting up again.”
you stood up, tentatively reaching out to fix boothill’s jacket and begin to zip it for him.
boothill didn’t protest the act, but it was…confusing, to say the least.
“reckon i’ll just start seein’ those auto bots again,” he leaned back on his palms as your fingers fixed his collar, straightening it out.  “much as i love our lil’ visits.”
you only hummed, smoothing out a few wrinkles and neatly tucking his scarf into it’s neckline, as he liked. “you could,” you mused, hooking your finger lightly into his collar and giving a gentle tug forward. “they don’t take as good care of you as i do, though.”
this time boothill caught the little smirk on your lips, clear as day and enough to make him question if short circuiting was possible.
you’re doing it on purpose, he knows. the careful touches to his hands and body against the sensors you put there, quiet voice leaving him with a frisson you made it possible for him to have.
boothill returned the smirk, albeit a little wobbly.
“you tryin’a rile me up, sugar plum?” 
he entertained you with a lean forward, two white crosshairs looking right at you while he considered if a hand on your waist was too forward or the perfect cornering move. 
“just like watching you squirm.”
you were gone as quickly as you’d arrived, finger unhooked and going to pick up his hat.
“but say i was,” you didn’t bother with a glance over as you made sure the brim was straight and unharmed. “i hardly have to try.” 
boothill hopped down from the table, following your path and offering a scruffy chuckle when you reached up to place it on his head.
“yeah? and what makes y’say that?” his hand found a place on his hip.
you didn’t respond— not verbally, anyway. a quick flick of your eyes downwards was all he received. 
so he followed, looking down as well, to the very appendage he had insisted you give him over and over again pushing against his trousers. 
his own dream, now his downfall. 
boothill pushed passed you, pushing his hat further down onto his head while he stomped away. the profanities that left his lips filled the air— or rather their replacements. something something i love you blah blah peach cobbler something cutie-pie or meow!
“remind me t’settle for them lovely auto bots next time!”
he opened the door with a firm kick of his boot, stomping out with a scowl. 
as if he wouldn’t be back. you took better care of him, after all.
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⠀ 𑣲 MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?
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girlygguk · 16 days ago
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WIT IT THIS CHRISTMAS ⋆ JJK
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you’re done watching girls shoot their shot with your man. this time, you let them know. or, better yet, hear.
🦌⋆⁺₊❅. christmas & chill: instalment 2 of 6
pairing drummer!jk x secret situationship fem!reader
genre fwb2l, angst, fluff, smut 18+ mdni
content jk 25 | yn 22, bratty oc, jk knows how to handle her, jk is in an alt rock band with jinnie and yoongs, tae is jk's best friend & oc's confidant, vmin are bfs, jk spoils oc, babygirl just wants to be cuffed, ruined christmas plans, oc whines a bit, oc gives jk the cold shoulder for approx 7 mins before folding bc… idk dick too good i guess, jealousy (both parties, more so oc's side), neither of them entertain it tho, fwb but like exclusive ones because cmawn… it's me, kissing, grinding, groping, big tiddy reader, big tiddy sucking, sm dirty talk & praise, quick bj, cunnilingus, choking if u blink, oc gets fucked w his drumsticks, and then his cock, condomless p in v sex, oc is on birth control, clothed sex, sub dom dynamics, daddy kink, a little tiny bit of squirting i think, creampie, happy but very abrupt ending sorryyy
word count 8.9k
banner by the lovely @awrkive ⟡ ݁₊ .
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North Star Pavilion, Seoul
Christmas lights twinkle across the city, their warm glow mocking the chill in your chest. Everything feels like too much—too cold, too noisy, too far from what you actually wanted today. What you were promised.
The van door slams shut behind you, the biting breeze nipping at your skin as your boots crunch against the icy gravel.
Jungkook follows close behind, his shoes scuffing against the ground as he jogs to catch up.
“Baby,” he calls softly, reaching for your hand. But you shrug him off, your arms folding tightly over your chest as you keep moving toward the back entrance of the venue.
Jungkook lets out a heavy sigh, his breath visible in the icy air. “Come on, baby,” he murmurs, his tone dipping into that pleading softness that always makes you want to fold. “Y/n, I had to—”
“I’ll see you after the show, J.”
Your voice comes clipped and cold as you cut him off, not bothering to look back. His soft footsteps falter, and you can feel his eyes fixed on you.
For a brief, brief moment, something in you threatens to crack.
But you don’t let it.
The angry stomp of your boots against frozen pebbles drowns out anything he might have said as you disappear through the back, weaving through the venue without so much as a glance in Jungkook’s direction.
The warmth of the building barely registers. It isn’t enough to thaw the stubborn frost clinging to your chest as you move down the hall, barely nodding at the familiar faces of the staff who greet you in passing.
Eventually, you find an empty corridor, the hum of the growing crowd muffled by the walls. Leaning back against the cool tile, you tip your head back and let out a bitter scoff.
This isn’t how today is supposed to fucking go.
Rolling your eyes, you dig your hand into your pocket and pull out your phone, desperate for a distraction. But the memory you’ve been avoiding all day slips in anyway—very vivid and very unwelcome.
Yesterday, you’d been curled up on your couch, your legs draped lazily over Jungkook’s lap as the soft glow of the tiny Christmas tree on your coffee table lit up the room. It had become a routine of sorts—the quiet calm after his shows, a pocket of peace that felt like yours and his alone.
Jungkook’s tattooed fingers traced idle patterns over your calf, the gentle pressure soothing against your bare skin. You were warm and sleepy from the shower you’d shared earlier, your body clad in a little sleep shirt and panties. Jungkook, in his sweats and no shirt, smelled faintly of your shampoo, his long, damp hair falling loose around his face.
It was all so soft, so cozy, so domestic.
So fucking stupid.
You caught him staring, his gaze steady and quiet, that intensity in his dark eyes making your stomach do that stupid flippy thing.
“Watcha lookin’ at, creepy?” you squinted, nudging his stomach with your foot.
Jungkook’s lips twitched as he shook his head, his fingers still lazily stroking your leg. “Nothing,” he hummed, but his gaze lingered a moment longer before he dropped it back to his phone.
You tossed your own phone to the side, crawling onto his lap with a light shove to his shoulder. He grunted softly as you shifted over him when he lay down, his hands instinctively finding your thighs as you flopped against his chest.
“You okay?” you murmured into his neck, your fingers brushing softly over his collarbone.
“Very,” he replied, his voice low, his big hand sliding up to smooth over and cup your ass.
You smiled into his skin, pressing a kiss to his neck. “I bought us Christmas pajamas,” you mumbled, your lips brushing against his pulse.
Jungkook paused for a moment, then let out a quiet laugh, his fingers stilling briefly before resuming their lazy path. “Did you?”
“Yup,” you said, smirking. “Try not to wear them, and your ass is spending Christmas alone.”
His laugh deepened, his hand slipping beneath the hem of your panties to rub slow, little circles over the curve of your skin. “I’ll wear them, baby,” he promised.
“Know you will,” you whispered, your teeth grazing lightly against his neck.
His head tilted, granting you more access as a low, soft grunt rumbled from his throat, the sound enough to make you press closer.
You were ready to tease him further, your tongue lazily flicking over his pulse, when his phone buzzed loudly on the couch beside you.
He shifted, reaching for it with one hand while his other stayed firmly on your thigh, absently stroking your skin. You pressed your cheek against his shoulder, eyes closed, soothed by the soft, lispy cadence of his voice.
Until you heard it.
“North Star fucking Pavilion, bro! On Christmas Day!” The Spine Breakers’ lead singer’s voice crackled through the speaker. “The check is insane, JK!”
Jungkook sighed heavily, his grip tightening slightly on your thigh. “I already have plans, Jin-hyung—”
“We need you, man,” Yoongi, his bass player, cut in. “You’re our drummer. We can’t do this without you, dude...”
The air shifted. You felt it before you even opened your eyes.
“Fuck,” Jungkook groaned. You could feel his gaze on you, hesitant, like he was waiting for you to intervene. But you didn’t. You stayed still, letting him make his choice.
“Fuckin—okay, okay, hyung,” he muttered into the phone, his voice resigned as he cut off Jin’s begging. “I’ll do it.”
The second the call ended, you climbed off him, ignoring the hand that reached for you, brushing off the way he called your name. The bedroom door slammed angrily behind you.
He followed, of course.
Jungkook dropped down on the bed beside you, his arm wrapping around your waist as he tried to apologize, his voice soft and pleading. But you didn’t respond. Didn’t even look at him. You fell asleep facing the wall, his hand still resting on your stomach.
And now, here you are.
Not curled up on the couch, watching a stupid Christmas movie like you had planned. Not eating takeout, because neither of you can cook for shit. Not sneaking up to the roof to get holiday high together.
No. Instead, you’re standing in a cold, empty hallway of one of Seoul’s biggest holiday locales, the muffled roar of the crowd growing louder behind the door to your left.
The hem of your winter dress shifts as you fidget, the festive vibe of your outfit doing little to match the storm in your chest. At least it’s black. That’s, like, emo, right?
Whatever.
Merry fucking Christmas. And fuck Jeon Jungkook.
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The crowd thickens as you weave through, the bass of the background music vibrating under your boots with every step. People press in on all sides, the noise a tangled mess of cheers and shuffling feet. You don’t let it faze you, your eyes scanning the mass for a familiar figure.
The closer you get to the side stage, the more recognizable faces appear—crew members rushing around, regular staff you’ve seen countless times at past shows. But it’s not until your gaze catches on a mop of black hair that some of the tension in your shoulders finally lifts.
You spot your boy...friend’s best friend leaning against a speaker, his ear piercings glinting under the scattered lights. A plastic Christmas wreath headband sits snugly atop his neatly straightened curls, and the corner of your lips quirks up despite yourself.
He notices you before you reach him, a grin spreading across his face as he lifts the beer bottle in his hand in greeting.
By the time you push through the last cluster of people, your gaze flicking over his ripped jeans and the artful layering of his black shirts, he’s already stepping forward to wrap you in a hug.
“Ah,” Taehyung says, giving you a once-over, his brows wiggling as he pulls back. “We’re matching.”
You glance down at your black-on-black outfit, then at his. “I’m in a mood,” you roll your eyes, though a quiet laugh escapes.
Taehyung hums knowingly, offering you the spare beer in his other hand. You take it, cracking the cap before taking a long sip. Your gaze flicks toward the stage, where crew members scurry to finish sound checks and tune the equipment.
“It’s fucking packed,” he comments, nodding toward the crowd, which seems to grow thicker by the second. “J said tickets sold out in minutes.”
You hum noncommittally, your focus still fixed on the stage. “Of course they did. It’s Christmas, and these emos don’t have anything better to do.”
Taehyung snickers, leaning in to nudge your shoulder. “And your excuse? No Christmas plans…?”
You shoot him a glare, taking another sip of beer as he raises his hands in mock defense.
“Still haven’t made up yet?” he prods, his tone teasing, knowing.
“Nope,” you huff, the sound bratty as your gaze flicks around the venue. “I’m ignoring him until Valentine’s Day. And if I’m not cuffed by then, I’m castrating the motherfucker.”
He shakes his head, laughing under his breath. “Why not just ask him to go steady again?”
“Because,” you grumble, pointing the neck of your beer bottle at him, “he’s the one who doesn’t want me seeing other guys. So, he can ask me.”
Taehyung arches a brow, taking a slow sip of his drink. “Didn’t you also say you didn’t want him fucking with other chicks?”
“Shut up,” you huff, giving him a halfhearted shove as he laughs again.
The minutes pass as the venue comes alive, the energy thickening the air around you with heat. The chatter grows louder, the crowd swelling until it feels like the walls are pulsing. You and Taehyung stand shoulder to shoulder, unfazed by the chaos. You’ve done this too many times before—waiting at the edge of the stage, watching the lights dim as the band take their places.
You hadn’t met Jungkook through Taehyung, though. You’d met Taehyung first at one of their early performances, back when The Spine Breakers were barely on anyone’s radar.
It had been a little bar in the city, the kind of place where the beer was watered down and the sound system was a half-step away from blowing out. You’d gone with your friend Marcy, both of you already knowing a good chunk of TSB's songs before the first chord even played.
Most of the crowd back then hadn’t been as familiar, more there for the vibe than the band. You’d been a few rows back, swaying to the music, when Taehyung walked by and stumbled into you, spilling half his beer onto your skirt.
He’d been flustered, apologizing immediately and offering to buy you another drink as yours dropped on the ground. When you’d rolled your eyes and waved him off, turning back to Marcy without much more than a shrug, he hadn’t used it as an excuse to keep bothering you. Sad as it might sound, that had caught your attention—guys who actually took a hint were fucking rare.
He’d genuinely seemed sorry, even offering to hold your place if you wanted to head to the bathroom to clean up. You’d given him a once-over, told him it didn’t bother you, and pulled him into your little huddle instead.
By the end of the night, Taehyung was dancing to the music beside you and Marcy, and when the set ended, he asked if you wanted to come backstage to meet the band. You’d told him to shut the fuck up, convinced he was joking.
He wasn’t.
That was the first time you’d seen Jungkook up close. The first time you’d stared a little too long at the drummer with the intriguingly quiet intensity and ink-covered arms that you wanted to run your tongue along.
While Marcy hit it off immediately with Tae—bonding over their matching daith piercings or whatever—the pull between you and Jungkook had been something else entirely.
Maybe you’ve been to every single one of his shows since then. Maybe you took a gap year from college, picking up shifts at a club in town to cover your rent while Jungkook paid for everything else. Maybe you’ve only been with one other guy in the 449 days you’ve known him—and that was way back, in the early days, before it all started to feel like this.
Maybe.
Taehyung’s voice cuts through your thoughts, his tone casual but his smile teasing. “You’re doing it again,” he quips, nudging you lightly with his elbow.
“Sorry,” you say quickly, clearing your throat as your gaze flickers back to the stage. Jungkook’s seated behind his drum set now, a crew member leaning in close as she adjusts his mic stand.
“S’okay,” Taehyung replies with a quiet laugh, raising his bottle to his lips. He leans back against the speaker, his grin softening. “You guys wanna come over for drinks after the show? Jiminie made Christmas pudding.”
You blink, your focus still trained on Jungkook as the staff member smiles at him, her mouth moving—maybe asking if he was okay, if he needed anything else. His tongue flicks over his lip rings, his head tilting slightly as he shakes it in response.
She lingers.
He gives her a dismissive, doe-eyed look from under his lashes, his dimple peeking out as he shakes his head again. Finally, she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, glances around quickly, and scurries backstage.
Slut. The both of them.
Your lips press into a line, your eyes narrowing as you take another sip of beer. “Sure, I’ll come,” you mutter half-heartedly to Taehyung without taking your eyes off Jungkook.
His gaze catches yours from the stage.
You look away.
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The crowd roars as Jin takes the mic, yelling out a quick greeting before launching right into their set.
The music is electric, Yoongi's smooth, heavy bass and Jungkook’s crisp, pounding drumming vibrating through your chest as the band plays. You can’t help but let your body move with Jin's voice, nodding your head along as Taehyung sways beside you, the beer in his hand getting lower by the minute.
Halfway through the third song, a guy squeezes his way through the crowd toward you and Taehyung. At first, you don’t think much of it—packed shows like this always mean a little too much physical closeness. But when he stops right next to you, leaning in far closer than necessary, his intentions become annoyingly clear.
“Hey,” he shouts, his voice barely cutting through the music.
You glance at him briefly, tilting your head and pursing your lips before looking back at the stage.
The guy doesn’t get the message—or maybe he doesn’t care. “You here alone?”
You shake your head shortly, keeping your eyes fixed on the stage. “Nope.”
Taehyung notices the exchange but doesn’t intervene, his gaze flicking between you and the guy as he sips his drink.
The guy leans in again, louder this time, more insistent. “You want another drink?”
You roll your eyes, stepping closer to Taehyung. “I’m good,” you say flatly, your tone leaving no room for interpretation.
From the stage, you notice Jungkook’s playing start to shift. His drumming grows heavier, each strike more intense than usual. Your gaze flicks to him, catching the way his eyes keep darting toward your spot in the crowd.
Exhaling through your nose, you swap places with Taehyung in an attempt to move out of the guy’s line of sight. Taehyung’s grin fades into something firmer when he notices.
Taehyung lowers his beer, turning to the guy, his taller frame blocking the dude’s view of you entirely. “You good, man?”
The guy hesitates, visibly weighing his options. He looks like he wants to argue but ultimately decides against it, laughing under his breath before slipping back into the crowd.
Taehyung watches him walk off, shaking his head before leaning closer. “You alright, Y/n?”
You nod, offering a light rub on his arm in thanks, but your attention is already back on Jungkook. He’s still looking, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he watches you.
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The last notes of the set fade into a wave of screams as the stage becomes a field of tossed roses and stray undergarments. Jin, as always, makes a show of it, crouching to pick up a red lace bra and biting down on the strap with a cheeky grin. His bandmates laugh as the crowd loses their shit, Yoongi shaking his head as Jin winks into the audience.
They bask in the chaos for a moment longer, waving to the crowd before the elder two begin to slip offstage. Jungkook lingers behind, his hands braced on his knees as he catches his breath. He drags a hand through his damp hair, pushing it back as he straightens to his full height, chest rising and falling in exertion.
Just before he steps off, his eyes find yours. His gaze drags, a quick once-over, a slow run of his tongue over his lip rings, a subtle sniff of his nose. Then he’s gone, following his bandmates backstage.
Taehyung nudges your arm lightly. “Ready?”
You hum, nodding as you start making your way through the crowd, the buzz of energy still heavy in the air. The hallway to the dressing rooms is dim, much quieter than the rest of the venue.
Up ahead, you spot Jin and Yoongi walking a few steps ahead of Jungkook. They’re laughing at something, their figures disappearing around the corner. Jungkook trails behind them, dragging his hand through his hair again, the motion automatic.
Then you see her.
The staff girl from earlier is struggling with a speaker, her grip tight on the handle as she drags it down the hallway. When she glances up and spots Jungkook, her face lights up instantly.
Your steps slow without thinking, your gaze locking on her as she stops beside him. There’s a shy tilt to her smile as she offers him the water bottle balanced on top of the speaker. Jungkook takes it with a murmured thank you, cracking the seal and tipping it back, like he’s barely aware of her lingering.
But she doesn’t move.
She starts talking instead, her pace quickening to match his as he walks. Her cheeks flush slightly as she speaks, her eyes flicking up at him now and then like she’s gauging his mood.
Taehyung shifts beside you, his gaze flickering between you and the scene unfolding a few feet ahead. You can feel his curiosity, but you don’t acknowledge it. Your eyes stay glued to Jungkook.
Jungkook, whose head tilts slightly as he glances back at the girl, then forward at his bandmates. You catch the faintest crease in his brow before he slows his steps and eventually stops altogether.
The girl stumbles slightly at his sudden halt, her grip on the speaker slipping. Jungkook’s hands dart out instinctively, but she catches herself before he touches her. He pulls back quickly, murmuring, “You okay?”
“Yeah, uh, yeah. Sorry, I’m such a klutz sometimes,” she replies, her voice flustered.
Your lips press into a thin line as you watch, something sharp curling in your stomach.
He’s not doing anything, you tell yourself. He didn’t even touch her.
But he would’ve if she hadn’t caught herself, a snide voice in the back of your head sneers, cutting through your logic.
You shake off the thought, ignoring the way your chest tightens as Jungkook shifts. His hand brushes over his jaw while she continues speaking, her words softer now.
You don’t hear much after that. It’s not because the hallway is loud—it’s not. It’s the pounding of your pulse in your ears, drowning out everything else.
Jungkook finishes the bottle of water, twisting the cap back on with a quick flick of his wrist. “I gotta go,” he says, lifting the empty bottle as a gesture of thanks before brushing past her.
She hesitates, her hand still on the speaker’s handle as she watches him walk away. Her face burns red, and she fidgets slightly, but eventually, she turns back to her task, dragging the speaker further down the hall.
Your eyes stay fixed on Jungkook as he reaches the dressing room door. His free hand lifts to wipe the sweat from his face with the bottom hem of his shirt, the toned lines of his stomach flashing briefly before the fabric falls back into place. The drumsticks clutched in his other hand tap lightly against the now-empty bottle as he disappears inside.
Taehyung pulls your attention back, rubbing your arm soothingly before nodding toward the door. “You coming?”
You nod quickly, shaking off the haze that lingers as you follow him down the hall.
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The dressing room is warm and noisy, Jin and Yoongi sprawled out like they’ve been there for hours. Yoongi greets you with a rare smile, handing you a can of seltzer as you lean down to hug them both. Jin, already halfway through his beer, ruffles your hair affectionately before leaning back into the couch like he’s clocking out for the night.
You drop down beside Jungkook, your usual spot on his lap notably left empty. His brow furrows immediately, the arm around your waist tightening slightly as he tries to pull you closer to him.
“No, J,” you mutter, giving him a pointed look.
He grumbles under his breath, clearly displeased, but his hand slips down to link with yours instead. His thumb brushes idly over your knuckles, and for now, he settles.
The conversation flows around you as Taehyung throws out an invitation to his place. “Jimin’s been baking all day,” he says. “And we’ve still got drinks leftover from the other night.”
It’s an easy yes from everyone. The energy in the room shifts, a slow wind-down as cans and bottles are finished and the band starts getting ready to head out.
When you stand, Taehyung catches your arm, pulling you aside as Jungkook follows, his arm still firmly around your waist. “Hey, just wanna make sure you’re okay,” he says, his head tilted in slight concern.
Jungkook frowns, his gaze falling to your face. “Why wouldn’t she be? Did something happen?”
Taehyung glances at you, waiting for permission before answering. After you shrug and turn to Jungkook, Taehyung speaks. “Some dude wouldn’t leave her alone earlier,” he says simply.
Jungkook’s jaw tightens, his grip around your waist firming. Your hand squeezes his as you tilt your head at Taehyung. “I’m really okay, Tae, but thank you for looking out for me.”
Taehyung studies you for a moment longer, then nods. “Always.” He pulls you into a quick hug before doing the same with Jungkook. “Jimin’s waiting outside. You guys need a ride back to our place?”
Your gaze shifts to Jungkook. He stays quiet, his tongue working the inside of his cheek, eyes unfocused.
“We’ll come together,” you answer after a beat.
Taehyung nods, flashing you both a smile before heading for the door. The room empties out slowly after that, the others trailing behind Taehyung until it’s just you and Jungkook left in the quiet.
You glance at Jungkook as you shift on your feet. “Do you want me to order an Ub—”
“What did he do?”
You look up, his jaw tight as he stares at you. “That guy,” he starts again, quieter now, his words laced with tension. “Did he do something to you? Are you okay? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“J,” you sigh, shaking your head. “It was nothing. Just some loser.”
He watches you carefully, his eyes searching for something you’re not sure he’ll find. “And you’re okay?”
“I’m okay,” you nod.
His frown doesn’t relent as he closes the space between you in a few slow steps. His voice dips lower as he murmurs, “Fucking hate seeing guys trying to get with you, Y/n… not knowing you’re mine—”
Your eyes roll before you can stop yourself. “Let’s not do this right now, J.”
His brows pinch. “Really?”
“Yeah, really,” you bite back, your tone a little sharper. “Especially not when you’ve got bitches crawling all over you, and I can’t do anything about it.”
“Baby—”
“No, like this is so fucked, Jungkook. I’m tired of it. You promised me a cute night tonight, and I didn't get it. Fuck you.”
His teeth tug at his lip ring as he shakes his head, ready to apologize again, but you’re not done.
“And what about her? That slutty mic tech or whatever the fuck she is, leaning down with her tits all in your face? Or just so happening to have a fresh bottle of water ready for you backstage? God, don’t.”
“Fuck, you’re so hot when you’re jealous—”
“And then you do this!” you whine, throwing your hands up. “I’m tired of it, J. If I’m just another one of your groupies, what the fuck ever. But don’t be surprised when I go find someone who—”
His voice cuts through your rant with a hum. “Someone who what?”
He’s right in front of you now, so close that you have to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. His eyes flick between yours, waiting for an answer you don’t fucking have.
“You want someone else, baby?” he presses, his voice dropping even further.
Your lips twist, a bratty huff escaping as your frustration crumbles under his intensity. “No, you fucking asshole.”
His head tilts, his lips quirking into something between a smirk and a grin. “No?” he mocks lightly, his tone teasing, coaxing.
“No,” you mumble, quieter this time.
He hums, leaning closer, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger, grazing the side of your face as his gaze softens, his teasing edge dissolving into something heavier.
“And what do you want, baby?”
You blink, your eyes flicking to the thick line of his arm beside your face, his cologne and sweat mixing into something intoxicating. It fills your lungs, dizzying you more than you want to admit.
“You, idiot,” you mumble. “Want you.”
His lips twitch as he leans down, his voice a low hum against your mouth. “Y’wanna be mine, baby?”
Your eyes flutter shut, your body tilting toward him like it’s instinctual. His mouth grazes yours, soft and teasing, like he’s pretending to give you a choice.
But you know better.
There is no choice. It’s him. It’s always been him.
His lips press fully against yours, damp and plush from the way he’s been licking over them all night between backing vocals. You melt into the kiss, your hands slipping under the hem of his shirt to press against the warm, slightly sticky skin of his back. He leans in closer, jaw tilting as his tongue coaxes your mouth open. You keen softly, sucking the muscle between your lips and savoring the low groan he gives in return.
Then you pull back.
His eyes blink open slowly, a haze clouding his dark irises as he stares down at you.
“Do you want that?” you ask softly, tilting your head.
“Do I want you to be mine?” he echoes, his brows lifting slightly, his head shaking like the question is absurd.
You give him a pointed look, nodding just enough to make it bratty.
“I thought you were already mine,” he murmurs, his hands sliding down your dress. His touch is reverent, his gaze dipping over you as a satisfied grunt escapes his lips. “I’m already yours, baby..”
“Just mine,” you lean into his hold, your words brushing against his skin, “nobody else’s…”
“Just yours,” he nods firmly, leaning down to nudge his nose against yours, the softest smile tugging at his lips. “There’s been no one else since you, baby.”
The back of your neck tingles as his pretty nose drags along yours, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your pout before trailing down to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. His breath is warm, his lips brushing against your skin as he mumbles, “I just didn’t think you wanted the title…”
Your brows pull together, and your hands slide up to cup his face, tugging him back so you can look him in the eye. “I want the title.”
One corner of his mouth lifts into a crooked little smile, his head tilting just enough to press a kiss to your palm. “Okay,” he murmurs, his voice quiet but sure. “Then you can have it, angel.”
A hum of satisfaction escapes you, your hands squeezing his cheeks with a smile. He chuckles softly, leaning back down to steal another kiss, but you pull away before he can reach you.
“Oi,” he grumbles, the faintest pout forming on his lips. “Why? I want a kiss.”
Your hands drop from his face, crossing over your chest as you fix him with a look. “Ask me.”
His eyebrows shoot up, amusement flickering across his features. “What—? I thought we just—”
“No.” You huff, squinting at him as you take a step back, dodging his hands when he reaches for you. “I want the proper thing. I’ve been waiting so long for the girlfriend title. Ask me properly.”
Jungkook stares at you for a moment, his lips twitching as he fights back a groan at your cuteness. “Really?”
“Yes, really.” Your squint sharpens, your stance firm despite the way your heart jumps when his lips curve into a grin.
“Aishh,” he chuckles under his breath, shaking his head slightly before stepping closer. “Y/n,” he starts, voice soft but teasing, “will you be my girlf—”
“Yes!”
You don’t let him finish, grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking him down to meet your lips, cutting off the surprised huff he lets out. Your arms loop around his neck as you pull him in, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. His hands find your waist, steadying you, but you’re already slipping your tongue past his lips, swallowing the low groan he gives.
When you finally pull back for air, your breath is shaky, your lips humming. You stare at him, taking in his swollen mouth and the mess of his hair, his pupils blown wide they almost swallow the brown of his irises. He looks so good it’s almost fucking devastating.
“God, yes,” you murmur, your fingers brushing over his jaw before tugging him back down.
“You’re—okay with this—” Jungkook murmurs between heated kisses, his words coming in low breaths. “Your gap year’s almost over, baby—mmf—the distance… me being gone all the time?”
You pull back just enough to see his face, his dark eyes locking onto yours. His words hit you, and for a moment, all you can do is blink, your mind racing to keep up with the weight of what he’s asking.
“I can do my studies remotely,” you say finally, your voice soft but sure. Your hands slide up his shoulders as you tilt your head, searching his gaze for a hint of doubt. “I can…” You pause, swallowing as your heartbeat kicks up. “Like… travel with you, if you wanted—”
Jungkook surges forward, his lips claiming yours in a kiss that feels like he’s pouring every unspoken thought straight into your mouth. His hands grip your thighs, tugging you closer until your soft body’s pressed tight against him.
“Fuck,” Jungkook mutters, voice rough as his mouth moves against yours. The groan he lets out vibrates through you when you catch his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging lightly before letting it slip free. “I had no fucking idea, baby. I would’ve...”
You hum softly, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, your breath coming in quick. “Would’ve what?”
His fingers tighten on the curve of your ass, holding you steady as he leans in, his lips brushing yours. “Would’ve made you mine the first time I fucking took you, baby,” he murmurs, his tongue slipping back into your mouth.
A breathy laugh escapes as you lean into him, your hands threading through the damp strands of his hair. “So... the first night we met?” you tease, your voice swallowed by his eager mouth.
“Pretty much,” he chuckles against your lips, his tone low and sinful as his hands drop to the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up easily. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, and he carries you the few steps to the couch, dropping down with you prettily perched in his lap.
His lips find yours again, hungrier, wetter. His tongue pushes into your mouth, licking deep into you, chasing the tang of raspberry seltzer still lingering on your tongue. His hands roam higher, sliding over the fabric of your dress, fingertips pressing as they search for skin.
Without breaking the kiss, your fingers fumble with the little zip at the front of your jacket, the metallic sound making him pause. Jungkook leans back just slightly, his gaze dropping to your hands as you slide the zipper down. His tongue darts over his lip as the fabric falls away, leaving your corset-top barely holding your tits in place.
“Fuck,” he breathes, the word guttural. His eyes trail over your exposed skin, his hands moving on instinct to pull the hem of your dress down. The fabric drops, and your breasts spill free into his waiting hands, his thumbs eagerly brushing over your hardened nipples.
His mouth surges forward, latching onto your left nipple with a deep groan. He exhales through his nose, the sound almost a sigh, like his whole body just relaxed the second he had you in his mouth.
“God,” you whimper, your hips rolling against the bulge in his jeans, your hands gripping the back of his neck as you tilt your head back in pleasure.
“Fuck,” he grunts around your nipple, his wide tongue swirling over the peak before sucking gently. “These fucking tits,” he mutters, his voice thick as his hands knead the soft flesh. “Big, juicy fucking tits. All fucking mine, yeah?”
“Mmmh,” you whine, grinding harder as your fingers tug at the ends of his long hair, your thighs tightening around his hips. “All yours, Jungkookie. Always been yours.”
His cock twitches beneath you at the nickname, and his eyes flick up to your face. He coos through his mouthful before gently switching to your other bud.
“All mine,” he mumbles, the words muffled as he chews softly on your hard nipple, pulling a breathy moan from your lips. His big hands press your tits together, bringing them closer to his face, and he pulls back slightly to hum. “All daddy’s, isn’t that right, angel?”
“Nnnm,” you whine, your hips stuttering against him as the teasing tone has you clenching around nothing. “Yes, daddy. All yours. No one else’s.”
“Mm, that’s my girl.” His tongue flicks over your nipple one last time, pulling a soft gasp from your lips before his hand slides up to the front of your throat.
He brings you back down to his mouth, your tongues meeting immediately, wet and eager. His grip stays steady on your neck, thumb brushing softly along the sides as your hands bury deeper into his hair. The roll of your hips against his lap matches the rhythm of the kiss, each grind pulling a quiet groan from his throat that vibrates into your mouth.
The room is silent save for the wet, slick sounds of your lips and the rustle of your dampening panties against his jeans. Jungkook’s fingers tighten slightly around your neck, and you lean into it, moaning lowly when he catches your tongue between his teeth.
You pull back, your breaths uneven as you take hold of the wrist still resting at your throat, guiding it away. Your eyes meet his as you bring his hand to your lips, your tongue flicking over the tips of his middle fingers before sucking them into your mouth. No reason, really. Because you want to. Becaue you can.
Jungkook’s gaze stays heavy on you, his lids low as his tongue drags over his lip. You release his fingers with a soft pop, and he licks the remnants of your saliva from his hand when you let go.
Sliding off his lap, you reach for the zipper of his jeans, pulling it down with haste. You shimmy the denim over his hips, just far enough to bare his briefs. His cock presses against the black fabric, hard and thick, the sight alone making your stomach rumble.
Leaning down, you brush your lips over the length of him, the heat of his cock radiating through the cotton. A soft, hungry hum slips from you, and Jungkook groans quietly, his head tipping back against the couch.
One of his hands moves to the cushion beside him, the other slipping into your hair, brushing it back as you mouth over his covered cock.
Your hand slides under the waistband of his briefs, your lip catching between your teeth as his warm, hard length pulses against your palm. You pull him free, savoring the low curse that slips from his lips when you guide it to your lips and take the thick tip into your mouth.
“Shit, baby,” he huffs, his hips lifting slightly as your tongue swirls over the head.
“That’s it,” he mutters, his voice rough and breathy. “Get it nice and wet for daddy. Go on, baby.”
Your eyelids feel heavy as you obey, pushing spit to the front of your mouth and soaking his tip in it. The slick sound fill the quiet room, mixing with Jungkook’s sharp breaths and the low grunts slipping from his lips.
Your tongue moves slowly, wetting him nice and thoroughly, and his fingers twitch where they hold your hair out of your face. His head tips back further, a deep groan escaping as his hips up rock into your mouth on instinct.
Your lips work sloppily over his length as you take him deeper, your hand pumping the base as he groans low in his chest. “Good girl, baby,” he mutters, his fingers brushing the curve of your jaw as he watches you, his lashes heavy. “Such a good fucking girl.”
The praise makes you ache, the wetness pooling between your legs unbearable. Jungkook seems to sense it, his hand wrapping around your arm to pull you off him with a wet pop. His lips are on yours the moment you’re upright, licking into your mouth like he’s chasing his own taste on your tongue.
You melt against him, humming softly as his hands cup your waist, guiding you back until your spine presses into the couch. He hovers over you, his bigger frame warm between your parted thighs. Your boots dig into the cushions on either side of him, but he doesn’t care. Neither do you.
Jungkook’s hands are hasty as he pushes the fabric of your dress up your thighs, exposing the black lace stretched over your dripping core. His adam’s apple bobs as he hums, his thumb brushing over the darkened patch where your slick has seeped through.
“So pretty, baby,” he murmurs, pressing his tattooed thumb firmly against you. The friction makes you gasp, your hips jerking toward his hand.
The lace doesn’t last long. He hooks his fingers into the waistband and pulls it down just enough to expose you, wasting no time before dipping down. His mouth latches onto your pussy in one go, his wide tongue licking a slow, filthy stripe over your slit.
“Fuck,” you breathe, your hands flying to his hair. The heat of his mouth is overwhelming, his tongue teasing your swollen clit before dragging down to press at your entrance. He groans as he tastes you, sucking your folds into his mouth like a greedy fuck.
You whimper when his teeth graze your clit, his tongue circling the bud before flicking over it repeatedly. The wet, sloppy sounds of his lips and tongue working against your pussy fills the room, and your hips buck against his face—
“Uh… J-Jungkook?”
You freeze, your eyes snapping to the door as your blood runs cold.
There is no fucking way.
Jungkook doesn’t stop. If anything, his movements grow greedier, his mouth slurping noisily at your cunt as though he didn’t hear a thing.
You bite back a moan when the bitch's voice comes again, shaky and hesitant. “Sorry, uh… your friends got you a driver, and it’s—uh—can you hear me? Should I come in?”
Your hand tightens in Jungkook’s hair as his tongue presses deep into your dripping hole. “Tell her to fuck off,” you gasp, your voice pitching higher when his lips close around your clit. “Jung- fuck- Jungkook.”
He hums into your pussy, the vibration shooting through you as his tongue drags lower. “You do it, baby,” he murmurs, the words muffled by your slick folds. His lips press deeper you as he mumbles. “Tell her your boyfriend’s busy, hm?”
Jungkook’s mouth doesn’t falter, his jaw working as he fits as much of you into his mouth as he can, lips wrapping around your folds while his tongue drags over your clit. His jaw moves, sucking and licking, pulling sinful sounds from your throat like it’s his final fucking mission.
His hand fumbles to the side of the couch, searching for something, but you barely register it through the haze of pleasure. “Jungkook, seriously—”
The girl’s voice cuts through again, louder this time. “Uh, I don’t know if you can hear me, so I’m going to come in—”
Before the words fully register, you feel it. The slick, cool tip of a drumstick sliding into your cunt.
“Fuck!” The cry rips from your throat, loud and uncontrollable as your back arches off the couch. The stretch is sharp, sudden, but it has your toes curling, pleasure overtaking every thought as your grip tightens on his hair.
The sound outside the door ceases instantly, but you couldn’t give a fuck less.
Jungkook doesn’t stop, his tongue relentless as it flicks over your clit, fast and precise, his lips drenched as they lap at your soaked pussy. He glances up, watching you through his lashes, his big eyes dark as he gauges your reaction.
He’s slipped plenty of things inside you before—his fingers, his cock, even the handle of a vibrator… but never this. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t a fantasy of his, something he’d thought about during one too many late-night practices when you were at home and he was missing you.
“That okay, baby?” he murmurs with a mouth full of pussy. His long fingers grip the drumstick firmly, holding it still, not pushing deeper until you give the green light. His thumb brushes the edge of your clit, adding another layer of friction as his tongue continues its work. “Gonna let daddy fuck you with it, baby?”
“Yesss,” you whine, your head lolling against the couch. Your thighs tremble around his head as you pant, the word spilling from your lips like a fucking prayer. “Yes, please, daddy. God, I fucking want it, baby, please.”
Jungkook groans into your cunt as he presses the drumstick deeper, the slick glide making your legs quake. His tongue continues it's soft, wet work against your clit, a little slower as he eases the stick into your hole.
He works it in deeper, his pace quickening with every breathy moan that falls from your lips. The smooth wood glides in and out of your pussy with ease, covered in your juices everytime it pulls out, and the angle he’s hitting has your back arching into his mouth, your thighs trembling around his head.
“Fuckk,” you gasp, your nails scratching into the couch, desperate for something to hold onto as the thin stick brushes your g-spot. “Fuck, daddy—”
He groans against you, his lips dragging over your clit before his tongue flicks faster and faster. “That good, baby?” He hums, “daddy making you feel good, hm?”
“So fucking gooodd,” you cry, your chest heaving, your hips chasing the movements of his hand as he thrusts the drumstick faster. Your walls clamp around it as your head spins, tears welling in your eyes.
Jungkook gives one more slurp before pulling back just enough to catch your fucked-out expression. His lips glisten with your slick, hair messy from your tugging. “Want the other one, baby?” he asks, voice honeyed with mockery as his thumb brushes over your clit.
You whimper without hesitation, your thighs clenching around his head. “Fuck, please, daddy. Please.”
“Mmm,” he hums in satisfaction, his tongue dragging a long, wet stripe over your clit as he reaches for the second stick.
You barely have a moment to prepare before the second one presses into you, your toes curling as he works it in beside the first. “Oh my fuck,” you choke, your head falling back against the couch.
Jungkook’s jaw clenches as he watches you, his hands tight around the sticks as he thrusts them together, slow at first, then faster. And faster.
His greedy mouth is back on you, his tongue lapping at your clit, wet and messy, the dirty, soppy sounds of his lips and the squelch of your pussy taking the drumsticks echoing in the room.
“Fuck,” you moan, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as your hips buck into his mouth. “Gonna fucking cum, daddy. So—fuck, uhhhhh!”
“That’s it, baby,” he growls, his lips wrapping around your swollen bud, sucking hard as he thrusts the drumsticks relentlessly into you. “Show that bitch who’s daddy’s girl, huh? Gonna cum on my tongue? On my drumsticks? ‘Cause only you can, huh baby? My fucking baby.”
Your whole body seizes at his words, your head snapping back as a strangled cry rips from your throat. Your vision blacks out, your body trembling violently as the orgasm rips through you.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you sob, your walls clenching hard around the sticks as wetness gushes out, soaking his hand, his mouth, the couch beneath you. Jungkook groans loudly, his lips glued to your clit as he sucks you through it, his tongue flicking over the nub as you writhe beneath him.
“That’s my fucking girl,” Jungkook groans, his voice thick as he leans in for one last lick, dragging his tongue slowly up your pretty slit. He pulls back just enough to watch your pussy twitch, glistening and flushed, clenching around the sticks as you whimper weakly.
“Jungkookie,” you manage through trembling breaths, your body trembling under his heavy gaze. “Th-thank you, fuck.”
He hums against you, his big eyes darting up to meet yours as his lips curl into a satisfied smirk. “Any fucking time, baby, shitt.”
You shudder as he finally eases the drumsticks out of you, slick dripping from the tips as your thighs twitch. You watch through hooded eyes as he raises them to his lips, sucking your wetness off, the hollow of his throat bobbing at the sweet taste. Once clean, he tosses them carelessly to the side, licking over his lips as his gaze drops back down to your wrecked cunt.
“Messy girl,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing as his fingers trace over the sticky mess between your thighs.
Your eyes fall lower, catching the tip of his cock peeking out from the waistband of his briefs, red and dripping. Your breath catches, your hands instinctively sliding up his arms, tracing the ink there as your gaze stays locked on it.
Jungkook notices, his tongue running over his swollen lips as he chuckles. “You want it, baby?”
You swallow hard, your eyes flicking up to meet his through your lashes. “Please, daddy.”
He groans softly at the way you look at him, nodding before leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss. It’s so wet, everything is wet as your lips part to welcome his tongue when he licks into your mouth, giving you every bit of the taste of yourself. You suck greedily on his tongue, and he groans low in his chest, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you closer.
Your hands slide up to wrap around his neck, holding him as he reaches down between you, adjusting his briefs and pulling himself free. He pulls back slightly to look down as he drags the tip of his cock through your soaking folds, catching on your clit.
“Need to fuck you so bad, baby,” he mutters, his voice rasping with need. “Need you to feel how much I fucking love you.”
Your breath hitches, your hands tightening around his neck as his words hang between you. His cock stills against your entrance once he realizes what he just said, his head snapping up.
“You love me?” you whisper, your voice quiet as your gaze flicks between his eyes.
He blinks, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard. Then, with a soft nod, he admits it. "So much, baby."
You beam, your face breaking into the brightest smile, and it’s enough to make his chest swell. You tug him down to you, pressing your lips to his in a wet, giddy kiss.
His lips are soft against yours, but the way he kisses you is anything but. It’s raw as his tongue slides against yours, his hands tightening around your waist, pouring himself into you.“I love you, J. Holy shittt, baby!!”
He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes scanning your face as he smiles, his lips red and swollen. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you whisper, so fucking giddy, your hands cradling his face as you lean up to kiss him again. “Now fuck me, please.”
He chuckles, the sound low and sweet before leaning down to press a kiss to your neck. His lips brush against your skin as he shifts, lining himself back up with your entrance.
The moment he pushes in, your breath catches. The stretch burns so good as he sinks into you slowly, his cock thick and pulsing, the loud, slick sound of your arousal filling the room as he bottoms out.
“Fuck,” Jungkook groans, his head falling forward as his hands grip your thighs. “So fucking wet, baby. You fucking feel that?”
“Y-yeah,” you stammer, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you adjust to the fullness. “So full, Jungkookie.”
He groans at the sound of his name, his hips pulling back before thrusting forward, a little harder this time. You gasp, your back arching into him as he sets a slow, deep pace, every thrust hitting you delicious and deep.
“So fucking good, baby,” he mutters, his voice thick with praise. “So perfect for me. Take me so well, always.”
Your hands find his hair, tugging at the strands as your head falls back, exposing your neck to him. He takes the opportunity, his lips finding your skin, sucking at the flesh as his thrusts grow faster.
The wet sounds of your bodies moving together, the squelch of your pussy soaking him, his breathy groans and your desperate moans— they drown out every other thought.
“Fuck, Jungkookie,” you cry out, your legs locking tighter around his waist, pulling him deeper. “Y-yes, yes, oh my goddd.”
He grunts low in his chest, his pace quickening as he chases your high, each thrust hitting your g-spot with reckless precision. “That’s it, baby,” he rasps, his voice rough and wrecked, eyes glued to the way your tits bounce with every snap of his hips. “Cum for your boyfriend. C'mon. Show me how much you fucking love me.”
“Fuck, baby—fuck!” your voice breaks into a high-pitched whine, the sound desperate as your nails dig into the sweaty shirt stretched over his back. “Gonna fuckingg cummm, baby. God, fuck—fuck—”
You shatter around him, your orgasm crashing over you in a sore wave, your body shaking as your pussy clamps down on his cock. Jungkook groans, his lips finding yours to swallow your cries as his thrusts don’t relent, driving you through every pulse.
“Gonna take my cum, baby?” he grits out against your lips, your head tipping back as his breath fans over your sweaty skin. His hands tighten their hold on your thighs, keeping you locked in place. “Huh? Gonna take it all ‘cause you love me so fucking much, yeah?”
“Y-yes, baby,” you sob, your body jerking from the oversensitivity as he keeps pushing deeper and deeper. “I fucking love you, Jungkookie—please, give it to me. Give it, baby. Fucking give it!”
A deep, guttural curse spills from his lips as he stills, his cock buried deep as his release hits. Warmth floods your hole as he fills you, every drop making you whimper, your legs trembling around him. His forehead drops to your neck, his damp hair sticking to your skin as he pants heavily.
“God, I fucking love you,” he mutters, his voice thick as he presses his lips to your collarbone. “Never gonna get over saying that.”
“My sappy boyfriend,” you tease, your fingers threading through his sweaty hair, scratching softly at his scalp as he groans into your skin. “Who would’ve thought?”
Jungkook lifts his head, his dark eyes narrowing as he gives you a look. You smile sweetly, dragging a finger across his swollen lips as you snicker. “I love you too, daddy.”
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sorry for the delay, i was having a mental breakdown bites lips
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cherrixpie · 23 days ago
Text
HOW NOT TO DATE A SLYTHERIN
part one of five
↬ being harry potter's sister wouldn't make dating theodore nott any easier - which was why you tried to hide it
↬ sfw; only fluff this chapter; wc: 3.4k; cw: none; secret relationship trope, potter!reader, griffindor!reader
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The chill of the night air bit at your exposed cheeks as you climbed the final steps to the astronomy tower, your breath visible in faint puffs. Winter had arrived particularly early this year, chilling your bones even now, on the last weekend of october. The school lay quiet below, the golden glow of the countless windows no longer having given in to the darkness of a cold autnumm night.
You pulled your robe tighter around you, wincing at the faint creak of the wooden door as it swung open by the push of your hand. You knew you shouldn't be out after curfew- your brother was usually the one breaking rules and making trouble- but the pull of him was irrestible. He, who’s voice cut through the haunting silence like a knife.
“I was starting to think you wouldn't show.”
You froze mid-step, your heart leaping to your throat at the familiar voice. Even though you had been expecting it. Theodore Nott was was leaning casually against the stone railing, his pale face bathed in the cold light of the moon that sharpened every dip and curve in the prettiest way. A light smirk was curling at the corner of his lips, his usual cigarette dangling from his pink lips. His green slytherin tie was loosened, his robes slightly crumpled, as if he’d wandered here on a whim rather than planned this meeting. But you knew better. Theo rarely did anything without careful thought.
“I had to make sure the coast was clear,” you replied, trying to copy his nonchalance. His dark eyes followed you closely as you crossed the space between you, coming to a halt a few feet away from the railing to keep some distance between you and the abyss. It was funny how you could ride a stick of wood regularly, tens of meters in the air, but looking down a great height with steady floor under you feet had nausea creep up your chest.
You tried not to shift under his prying eyes. Being eyed up by Theodore Nott was a rather particular feeling. Every time you met his eyes, you felt like he was staring right through you, blowing through every cover, every mask, every wall you had ever shielded your true self with and assessing it with disarming precision. As you returned his stare, his smile widened a little and he puffed on his cigarette. “You’ve gotten better at sneaking around, though. Tell me, do the Potter genes include an innate sense of rule-breaking?”
“And here I was, thinking I was your ‘good girl’,” you replied, quoting his teasing nickname. A rare laugh escaped his throat, more of a huff, really, that he hid in his hand holding the cigarette. You eyed it reproachfully.
“You’re going to die at a very young age, Theo.”
Slightly puzzled, he looked down at you, blowing smoke into the air and holding out an arm to beckon you closer. Answering the silent invitation, you let him nudge you towards him gently, the cigarette-free hand pulling you closer by the waist. “Is that a threat, cara? Because I could think of no better way to die than by your gentle hands.”
The charming bastard got a hold of said hands that were shivering slightly from the cold as you had forgotten to put gloves on, and pressed a gentle kiss onto your palm, carefully watching your reaction. You could only pray he took the flush on your cheeks as a symptom of the cold rather than your flustered reaction to his Italian.
“That's not what I meant,” you frowned, indicating the cigarette between his slender fingers. “What I meant was that you’re going to smoke yourself into an early grave.”
God, the way his eyelashes caught the few too-early snowflakes melting hopelessly on the ground. You gave a high-pitched tone of surprise when suddenly, he surged forward, pulling you even closer and trailing kisses up your jaw to your ear. “Tell me you’d hate that,” he whispered and you gave him an incredulous look he couldn't see.
“Of course I’d hate that!”
Before you could say anything else, Theo discarded the cigarette over the railing. Though you had no time to follow the tiny glowing ember on its way down, because just a fraction of a second later, his lips crashed into yours and you let out a startled squeak. Feeling him smile against your lips, you kissed him back in a weak attempt to take the initiative. He allowed you to play, but the movement of his hands, the caging of his arms and the way he beckoned your mouth open so easily proved his underlying dominance. Theo just wasn't beatable at kissing.
This was what you had been looking forward to all day, sitting through transfiguration, charms and defense against the dark arts, all subjects you had without him, stealing longing glances over dinner and quickly looking back as to avoid drawing the attention of your friends or brother to the silent exchange.
As the kiss got more heated, Theo’s fingers curled into your sides, spinning you around so you were with your back to the railing. Miraculously, you couldn't bring yourself to care. All there was in this microcosm of the two of you was him, you and the feeling of his lips on yours. One hand of his cupped your jaw, angling it slightly back to gain best access to your throat. As his lips trailed down the expanse of it, nipping, kissing and sucking, you found yourself snapping out of your theo-kiss-induced haze and pulled away aprubtly.
Panting, you covered Theo’s lips with one hand and he raised his eyebrow at you. He did that well, his eyes alone could make your stomach flutter. But you didn't give in. “Theo, what if someone sees marks on my-” You're were a little embarrassed about the subject matter, breaking off mid-sentence, and glared at his shit-eating grin, invisible behind your hand. “Well, I mean-” You were blushing. Oh god, you were blushing like crazy.
“Did you not enjoy that, cara?” Theo whispered seductively, carefully prying your hand from his mouth and kissing it gently. His eyes glinting with mirth, he looked at you challengingly.
“Of course I did!” you said, exasperated and embarrassed at the same time. You hated it when Theo took advantage of your unfamiliarity with intimacy and relationships. “But nobody can see!”
You expected him to tease you some more, so you were surprised when he merely breathed a long sigh and pulled you into his chest. Immediately, you buried your nose in his robes that smelled of him so deliciously. Smoke, old wood, a hint of mint, bookshelves. You felt him breathe your scent in as well, nose buried in your hair, and laughed lightly, but he didn't join in. His voice was a whisper, hard to make out.
“How long do you think we can keep this up before someone finds out?”
You didn't want to answer the question.
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Something picking at the back of your hand snapped you out of your drowsy state. Still tired from last night, you had dozed off a little in history of magic, but as soon as you caught the culprit of the picking at your hands, a hardly suppressed smile pulled at your lips. It was a little paper bird, and the fancy handwriting clearly indicated it as a note from Theo.
You waited until Professor Binns turned his back to the class to write on the blackboard, before carefully slipping the note into your lap, shielding it from Hermoine who sat next to you, taking notes. When you carefully folded the note open, you were greeted by Theo’s elegant handwriting.
If you keep chewing on your quill like that, I might lose my ability to concentrate.
Your cheeks flushed pink as you glanced sideways at him, where he sat a few rows behind your brother who had his head buried in his folded arms, fast asleep. Theo was leaning back in his chair, his quill poised lazily over his parchment as though he had been diligently taking notes, instead of composing witty distractions. His lips curved into a light smirk when your eyes met, and he tilted his head slightly, as if to say, Well?
You hastily scribbled back, your handwriting looking sloppy and slanted next to his. Maybe I'm trying to distract you. Someone’s got to keep you on your toes, Nott. With a flick of your wand, the note floated subtly back to his desk, and you could barely contain a smile as his brows lifted in amused surprise before he began to write again.
Turning to the blackboard to copy the notes, you felt Hermoine's eyes on you and looked up from your parchment. She was eyeing you suspiciously. “What are you smiling about?” she whispered, sparing a nervous glance at the professor. “Nothing,” you answered, hastily grabbing the next messenger pigeon out of the air before it could enter your friend's vision. You could practically feel Theo chuckling at your unlucky predicament.
But Hermoine turned back to Binns once more to listen to his sermon and you stuffed the bird into your back subtly to read it after class and away from prying eyes.
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“You’d be a half-decent Chaser if you didn't spend half the match showboating,” Theo drawled, his tone so casual it was clearly meant to provoke.
He leaned against the headboard of his bed, arms crossed as he regarded you with an expression that was equal parts exasperation and amusement. You, meanwhile, were sprawled across the emerald-green bedspread of his four-poster, arms tucked behind your head like you owned the place. At his words, you shot up immediately, propping yourself up on one elbow. “That's rich coming from the guy who winks at the crowd every time he scores- what’s that, part of your technique?”
The slytherin dormitory was quiet, except for crackling of the enchanted fire in the corner and the endless string of your playful teasing. Theo and you had the room for yourselves today as his mates were in Hogsmeade and Theo had stayed behind with the excuse of homework. As if he hadn't already finished all his work like the flawless O-grader he was.
“And anyway, I don’t see you scoring against Gryffindor’s defense without half your team clearing the way for you.” you teased, attempting to get a rise out of your ever calm and collected boyfriend.
But Theo’s smile only deepened, and he leaned forward just slightly, his voice dropping to a teasing lilt. “Jealous of my stats, are we, Potter? It’s not my fault you lot rely on your Seeker for every win.”
“You-” you started, your eyes narrowing, but his soft chuckle cut you off. You tossed one of his pillows at him instead, grinning when he caught it effortlessly. “Just keep laughing, Nott. You’ll regret it next match when I leave you in the dust.”
Suddenly, you felt his hand close around your ankle and shrieked as you were pulled towards him with alarming force. Before you could comprehend the shift in his behavior, he jolted forward as well, hovering over your body, sprawled out defenselessly underneath him. A light smile played around his lips as he took in your shocked expression with satisfaction and he brought a gentle hand up to your chin to tilt it upward, giving him access to your neck.
Theo dipped his head down to trail ghostly kisses down to your shoulder, muttering against your skin: “Are you sure about that, tesoro? Because I think you’ll have to work on your reaction time a bit before you can beat me.”
“Sneaky bastard,” you said, but couldn't suppress a high-pitched moan when Theo suddenly buried his teeth in your shoulder. Embarrassed by the sound that had slipped from your lips, you threw your hand over your mouth and blushed when he chuckled darkly into your neck.
“What, are you embarrassed?” he teased, looking up at you through his long dark lashes. Your pointed glare and flushed cheeks were answer enough.
When Theo broke out into a hearty laugh, you attempted to scowl at him, but it was hard when you were half in wonder by the sound of his laughter you got to hear so rarely. All the years you hadn't known Theo except for that one slytherin boy, you thought he couldn't laugh. When he did it for the first time with you, talking in the library over a muggle book you both had read and neither of you could talk to anyone else about, that was the first time you felt a flutter of butterflies rummaging in your stomach in his presence.
Awestruck by the sound of his laughter, you realized you had spaced out for a moment. Theo’s cackle had faded into a soft smile you could only reciprocate. His handsome features were painted with a gentle brush by the light of the fire. “You should laugh more often,” you said, not for the first time. “It’s beautiful.”
Theo hummed amused and leaned on his elbows to hover only a few inches above you. At this angle, his dark curls fell into his eyes, obstructing the view somewhat, so you reached up to run a hand through them. Savoring your touch, he closed his eyes and when he opened them, they held an implicit hunger that made you gulp. “I like your laugh too, tesoro. Love it, in fact,” he murmured, lips barely an inch from yours and you were itching to close the space in between. “And what I also love is y-”
Something banged at the door and both of you shot up, startled. As you stared at it unmovingly, the chatter of boy’s voices now unmistakably being heard through the closed door, Theo, the ever-quick thinker, jumped off the bed and beckoned you to follow. You shot up, heart thrumming with horror, scrambling onto your belly and rolling under Theo’s bed as far back as possible. With one quick glance to check if you were okay, that you answered with a silent thumbs-up, Theo got to his feet and walked over to the door, opening it.
“Theo, you bloke! Why did you lock the fucking door?” you heard a voice that sounded very much like Mattheo Riddle's shout. Several heavy steps resounded against the wooden floor and from under the bed, you could make out four pairs of shoes, undoubtedly belonging to Riddle, Malfoy, Berkshire and Zabini.
“I was studying,” Theo said, annoyance shimmering through his voice. “I prefer to do that undisturbed.”
You silently thanked the heavens that you and Theo had actually been studying before and therefore supplanted convincing evidence consisting of books and parchment. But suddenly, another realization dawned on you and your stomach curled with dread. Your parchment was up there too, with your handwriting and your name on it!
Theo’s eyes had also fallen on your parchment and he casually strolled over to his bed to collect it, concealing it with his and setting it aside. He felt annoyance rise within him and tried to keep it at bay. Of course his mates would barge in unexpectedly early in the exact moment he was about to confess his love to you. Clearing his face of any resemblance of emotion, he turned back around, leaning against his bedpost and trying his best not to worry about you, squeezed under his bed.
“You’re early,” he remarked, raising one brow. A memory almost made his lips twitch, of you trying to imitate the way he was able to raise one brow.
The boys threw glances at each other, some wary, but Blaise laughed. Only now did Theo notice his bleeding lip, and the others didn't look better of. Damn. He was really distracted when he hadn't even noticed it until now, when he always counted on his flawless perceptional ability.
“Who did you brawl with?” he sighed, though amused, looking directly at Mattheo who raised his hands in defense.
Draco nodded his way, dapping at a cut above his eyebrow with his shirt. “Mattheo picked a fight with Potter and some of his mates and we had to flee the scene before the old McGonagall caught us. Potter and Weasley got detention though.” He laughed in malicious joy and Theo's lips twitched slightly at the thought of you rolling your eyes under the bed.
“Potter’s sister wasn't with them though,” Enzo pondered, swapping out his slightly bloody hoodie for a clean one. When his head ascended from his collar, hair slightly disheveled, he was met with four pairs of raised brows. Well, three pairs plus one.
“What do you care about Potter’s sister?” Mattheo grinned wolfishly and Enzo rolled his eyes, chucking his bloody hoodie at him that got Mattheo right in the laughing face. Over that, he thankfully missed the subtle clench of Theo’s jaw at hearing him say ‘Potter’s sister’ in such an invidous tone.
Enzo, evidently, didn't like it either, which didn't help Theo’s irritation that he hid behind a mask of indifference. “She’s actually quite nice,” Enzo retorted, rolling his eyes at Mattheo’s and Blaise’s teasing whistles.
“Where’d you talk to her?” Theo asked, making his words sound so utterly indifferent nobody picked up on his sudden focus on the subject.
Under the bed, your heart did a little leap when you realized why he was asking. Though Theo was no outright jealous person, you sometimes caught him stealing glances at your male friends, voice tightening subtly when he talked about them. Anytime you teased him for it, he denied it, of course, saying jealousy was irrational and for fools because he knew you would never even glance at them. Hearing his inquire, you made a mental note to taunt him with it when this was all over.
“The library,” Enzo said, sitting down on his bed and taking one of his novels off the shelve. “I’m lousy in Arithmetic, as you know, and she isn't.”
“I’m surprised she even talked to you,” Blaise said as he magically fixed his lip in the mirror, making sure it looked flawless and untainted. “From what I gather, she’s the biggest goody-two-shoes in school, and a Griffindor ontop of that, why would she associate with a Slytherin?”
Enzo only shrugged, and Mattheo let out a loud groan as he longed himself at his bed that creaked under his impact. “Merlin, why are we still talking about Potters? There is so much more interesting stuff to talk about. Like what Theo has been doing today. Or who.”
He threw a teasing smile Theo’s way who raised his brow nonchalantly. “I told you, I was studying.”
“Yeah, sure,” Mattheo yawned, but kept his gaze fixed in his friends indecipherable expression. “You’re already five steps ahead in class, every assignment this year you got back with an O, what would you need to study for? Not to mention, you’ve been sneaking out more lately, and I bet it’s not ‘cause you’re dating Filch.”
Theo returned his stare unblinkingly, keenly aware of the fact that you were listening to every word. “So what if I am?” A slight smile graced his lips as he leaned his head against the bedpost. “Can't I fuck who I want?”
“Sure,” grinned Mattheo, unrelenting. “But you haven't done a lot of sleeping around for the last few months, from what I can gather. Seems to me like your man-whore-heart finally rests in the hands of only one unlucky girl.”
“Your audacity calling me fickle when you’ve slept your way through every willing girl in our grade is obnoxious,” Theo sneered, making the other boys laugh and directing the conversation towards the ravenclaw girl who’s heart Mattheo had broken just yesterday. With the other boys distracted, Theo dared kneeling down, pretending to tie his shoelaces while at the same time peering into the dark under his bed.
His eyes met yours in an instant as you raised your brows teasingly, and as he rose to his feet, Theo could hardly suppress a little smile that dared creep upon his face.
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