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girlygguk · 2 months ago

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NEEDY | JJK (Part 2)

summary hiding his feelings when you didn’t even know his name was hard. hiding his neediness and obsession when you finally did know his name and you were his fucking girlfriend? impossible. well, then it's a good thing you like him needy.

pairing nerd!jk x cheerleader!(f)reader

rating 18+ minors dni

genre established relationship; smut, fluff, angst

word count 11.5k

content jk 18 | oc 18 (🤓☝️ "actually, based on my calculations of the timeli—" idc! it's my fic, they're 18!), a blast to the past; mentions of oc's ex bf & baddie bff, lots of reminiscing, their first time (actually) meeting, clichés, simpy ass couple my god, heavy pet name use, dramatic, a moment of insecurity from jk but oc clears that up quick n snappy, kissing, dry humping, whiny subby koo, lowkey soft dommy oc, oral (both rec), quick orgasms bc they're inexperienced cuties, so soft, protected p in v penetration (brief), virginity loss, young love, they are both the sweetest angels i would actually d!e for them

note!!! the fic ends quite abruptly before they fully get into the Penetration, and if you'd like to know why, pls read the extended author's note here. but there's still a bunchh of smut and fluff tho 🤞 this rlly is just 2 cute lil virgins exploring love ! ENJOOOY 🤍 siri play i like me better by lauv

needy pt 1 [🐇] main masterlist [📣] banner credit

SOME TIME AGO

You and Jungkook have been official for a month now, and in that time, you’ve done your fair share of… stuff.

Every kiss, every touch, every moment between you has felt brand new, like you’re learning each other piece by piece. You were both each other’s firsts in so many things.

You’d had a boyfriend before — Christopher Bahng, the textbook-perfect pairing of the head cheerleader and football captain. Chris was a good guy, still a part of your friend group, always easy to be around. Your parents liked him, you shared classes, friends, group study sessions. It was convenient. Comfortable.

But it was never… well, it was never like this.

With Chris, something had always been missing, though neither of you could quite put it into words. A few months in, you both realized you were better as friends. You’d fooled around a little — awkward, aimless fumbling — but you’d never gone all the way. And, god, were you grateful for that.

Because you knew exactly who you wanted to go all the way with.

And right now, you were sitting on top of him, your hands tangled in his soft hair, lips locked as you swallowed every shaky breath he let out.

“Mmph—” Jungkook moaned into your mouth, needy and breathless. His hands gripped your waist, fingers digging into the soft skin above your hips like he couldn’t bear the thought of letting go. The slight tremble in his touch gave him away. He was trying to keep himself together, but his body was practically vibrating beneath you.

“You okay, bunny?” you murmured, breaking the kiss just enough to look at him. His lips were swollen, his cheeks flushed pink, his big, glassy eyes wide with that expression he always wore around you — like he still couldn’t believe this was real, like he was still processing that you were his.

“Y-yeah, lovie,” he breathed, his voice shaking as he nodded a little too quickly. His chest rose and fell in shallow, rapid breaths, and you couldn’t help the sly smile that tugged at your lips as you traced a finger along his jaw.

“You sure?” you teased softly, your lips brushing his as your hips shifted ever so slightly against his lap. The reaction was instant — a broken whine spilled from his mouth as his cock pressed harder against you, straining beneath the tight denim of his jeans.

Jungkook’s fingers twitched on your hips, his grip tightening as you reached up and gently slipped his glasses off. He was sort-sighted, so it was okay, and he nodded when you paused to make sure he was fine. He blinked a few times as you leaned over, setting the frames carefully on your bedside table. The movement brought your chest close to his face, the neckline of your crop top dipping low, and you weren’t even surprised when he instinctively pressed his face into the curve of your cleavage.

The noise he made — somewhere between a groan and a whimper — shot straight to your core. His hands slid up your waist as his lips brushed against your skin, and for a moment, all you could hear was his ragged breathing.

“Bunny,” you cooed, threading your fingers into his hair, tilting your chest just enough to give him better access. His only response was a needy whine as his hips bucked up beneath you, seeking any sort of relief from the unbearable ache between his legs.

His mouth latched onto the curve of your side boob, wet tongue tongue dragging against the delicate skin. Your breath hitched as he sucked lightly, then harder, his groan throaty and desperate as his hands fiddled with the hem of your top.

“Baby,” you gasped, your voice catching as his tongue darted across your skin. “Pull them out. Suck on them properly.”

It was like something snapped inside him. Jungkook let out a broken whimper, his hands moving to tug the fabric of your crop top down, and he froze for a second, just staring as your breasts spilled free.

“Fffuck, baby,” he breathed, his voice shaky and full of awe, his lips parting as if he didn’t know where to start. “Thank you. Thank you, baby. T-thank you so much.”

“Don’t thank me,” you murmured, your fingers curling into his hair, pulling him closer. “They’re yours.”

The sound he made was so intense — a guttural, deep groan as he buried his face in your chest, his mouth latching onto your nipple with zero hesitation. His mouth was desperate, tongue wet and wide as he lapped over the entire areola, sucking, pulling, groaning like he was savoring the sweetest candy in South Korea. And in a way, he was.

Your back arched instinctively, your fingers tightening in his hair as he sucked harder, his lips pulling and nibbling at the soft flesh. His hips jerked beneath you, his cock pressing hard against your core, and you rolled your hips down in response, the friction making both of you gasp.

“Yess, my love,” you whispered breathlessly, your hand cradling his head as he worshiped you. “So good, bunny. Always so good.”

His whine was muffled, his mouth too full of you to respond properly. But his hands said enough — the way they gripped your hips, pulling you closer as he buried himself deeper into your chest, desperate to show you just how much he wanted you. How much he needed you.

The praise shattered him. His hips jerked up, grinding into you with an urgency that was raw, unfiltered. Each soft thrust, each shaky breath, was a testament to how much he needed you. And god, did he. It was like your words were oxygen, filling his lungs, fueling him. Without them, he wasn’t sure he’d survive. Was that pathetic? Sure. Did he care? Not in the slightest.

His tongue flicked over your nipple, one hand cupping the soft swell of your boob, kneading it tenderly while his mouth moved with desperateness. The other hand trailed to your other bud, his long fingers rolling it between them, sparking a fresh wave of heat that spread straight to your cunt.

He looked fucking wrecked — eyes squeezed shut, lips swollen from his frantic licks, his face flushed as he moaned against you. Every sound you made, every twitch of your body, had him falling deeper under your spell. It was overwhelming — he was overwhelmed. All he knew, all he felt, all that existed for him at that moment was you.

The steady rhythm of your hips grinding down onto his lap synced with his movements, the friction pulling soft, breathy pants from his lips. His cock twitched beneath the fabric of his pants, hard and aching, the damp spot already forming there a sign of how close he was to losing it.

“Kookie,” you murmured, your voice soft but teasing as your warm breath fanned against his cheek. “Baby, do you want to… do more?”

His body jerked, a visible tremor rippling through him as your words registered. His big, doe eyes snapped open, locking with yours, wide and full of need. His lips stayed latched around your nipple, trembling as a muffled whine escaped him. When you ground down again, harder this time, his nod was frantic, shaky, his mouth refusing to let go of your boob even as his body begged for relief.

“Okay, my baby,” you whispered, your voice soothing as you gently pulled your breast from his mouth. He whimpered at the loss, a pitiful sound that tugged at your heart, his lips chasing after you like he needed it back. But his frown melted away the moment you pressed your mouth to his, your tongue sweeping past his lips.

He crumbled under your kiss. The second your tongue found his, his entire body softened, tension flowing out of him as if you’d cast another spell. Your hands slid up to cradle his neck, your thumbs brushing over his flushed skin as his own hands trailed lower. They slipped beneath the hem of your cheer skirt, his fingers gripping the curve of your ass, squeezing with a soft but possessive need that sent a satisfied thrill straight through you.

Jungkook groaned when you moaned into his mouth, his lips parting further to let you take control, his brows furrowing in pleasure. His hips bucked instinctively, pressing his cock harder into you, and you ground down to meet him, your movements growing slicker with every roll of your hips.

His gasp was sharp when you sucked his tongue fully into your mouth, your head bobbing slightly as you pulled him deeper, savoring his taste. You could still pick up the faint sweetness of the strawberry poptarts you’d shared earlier, and the thought made you smile against his lips.

The sound he made was ruined, somewhere between a moan and a sob, his body jerking beneath you as his cock twitched. He tried to pull back, overwhelmed by the way your hips pressed down harder, but you didn’t let him.

“Ahh…-aybee,” he whined, his voice cracking as you suckled harder on his tongue. His hands gripped your ass tighter, desperate to steady himself, but it was useless. You were relentless. You were everywhere. His cock throbbed under you, his hips snapping up as he let out a choked, muffled moan.

“Mm-abyy—” His attempt at your name was cut off when your fingers trailed down, brushing over his nipples through the thin fabric of his shirt. That was it.

His head fell back, his eyes rolling shut as his entire body seized. “Ahh, c-cum!” His cry was broken, raw, his hips jerking up as his cock pulsed. He came hard, shaking beneath you as his release soaked through his jeans, his breath hitching with every tremor that wracked his body.

But you didn’t stop. You kept rolling your hips over him, slow and deliberate, your movements dragging every last ounce of pleasure from his overstimulated frame. His face was flushed, his lips parted as gasps and soft whimpers spilled from him, his hands gripping you like you were the only thing anchoring him to reality.

“Good jobbb, bunny,” you murmured sweetly, your lips brushing against his temple as you ground down one final time, a little playful wiggle of your hips drawing another broken moan from him.

His eyes were glazed, his breath shaky as he clung to you, trembling in your arms. You smiled, brushing his damp hair from his forehead as his body melted into yours. He looked utterly wrecked, but the dazed, drunk smile tugging at his lips told you he was more than okay.

Your continuous whispers of praise made his body shudder, a tiny, broken breath escaping his lips as you kept wiggling against him, teasing him through the aftershocks of his release. He looked up at you, wide-eyed and flushed, his chest heaving beneath your hands.

“Lovie, I-I’m so sorr—”

“Why are you apologizing, bunny?” you frowned, cutting him off softly. Your hands were already in motion, sweeping back the damp strands of hair clinging to his forehead. You hated when he apologized for something as beautiful as coming quickly. The way he lost control for you, because of you, was intoxicating. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Jungkookie. You were so good for me.”

Your words hit him like a lifeline. He melted into your touch, his lips parting as a soft keening sound escaped him. His eyes fluttered shut as your fingers carded gently through his hair, his breath coming in slow, shaky waves.

“I love you so much it fucking hurts, Y/N,” he admitted, his voice raw.

“Hey,” you whispered, your tone softening as your hands stilled. His words were raw, almost jagged, and you leaned down, pressing a kiss to his lips.

It was gentle, unhurried, and your lips curved into a small smile as he breathed all his little sounds into you. When you pulled back, your voice was warm. “I know exactly how you feel, baby,” you murmured, your tone laced with affection. You pressed another kiss to his pouty lips, your movements so soft that his eyes stayed closed. “I’ve been in love with you the longest, after all, hm.”

His eyes snapped open at that, wide and glistening, his lips parting in protest. The pout he gave you was undeniably adorable. “No, you have not,” he mumbled, his tone brattily defiant. His eyes flicked downward, catching sight of your bare chest, and his cheek rested instinctively against your softness.

You hummed as he settled into you, his head pillowed against your boobs. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, tugging you a little higher up his torso, and he let out a contented sigh, his eyes slipping shut again.

Your hands drifted into his hair, your fingers scratching lightly at his scalp. The soft noises he made in response drew a fond smile from you, but you pouted slightly as you thought back on his words. “What do you mean?” you teased gently. “I followed you everywhere, bunny. Even if I didn’t know it was love back then—”

“I knew,” he interrupted, his voice muffled against your skin but certain. The warmth of his breath fanned over your chest, sending a shiver through you. His arms tightened their hold, pulling you impossibly closer. “Always knew, lovie.”

“Okay, Mr. Smarty Pants,” you said with a soft laugh, narrowing your eyes at the cheeky smile spreading across his face. His lips pressed a gentle kiss to your skin, his quiet acceptance of the nickname only making you smile more. “And how are you so sure that when you realized you were in love with me, I wasn’t already—”

“Because you didn’t even know my name yet,” he cut you off again, lifting his head to meet your gaze. There was a shy confidence in his big, round eyes, and his statement left you momentarily speechless.

Your mouth opened, but no words came out, your expression shifting to one of surprise. He smiled cutely, the tips of his ears flushing pink as if embarrassed by his own boldness. Before you could process it fully, he leaned forward, pressing two quick kisses to your lips, leaving you even more stunned.

Without giving you the chance to respond, Jungkook shifted back against the headboard, his hands finding the hem of your cheer shirt. He leaned in, planting soft kisses on your nipples, his lips warm and reverent before he carefully tugged the fabric back over your chest. His touch drifted lower, settling on your thighs, his big palms warm against your skin.

You’d asked earlier if he wanted to do more, and god, he didn’t know how to put into words all the things he wanted to fucking do. He wanted to lie flat on his back, to feel you slide up, your soft thighs clamped around his head while you—

“Bunny, do you really mean that?” you whispered, your tone curious and a little hesitant, breaking him out of his thoughts. His wide eyes snapped up to yours, startled by the furrow in your brow.

“Wh-yes, baby,” he stammered, panic flickering in his chest. “I—I, of course, I mean it. I’d never lie to you… Should I not have said that?” His voice grew quieter, worry creeping in. He thought he could tell you anything; you said he could tell you anyth—

“No, baby,” you reassured him quickly, the warmth in your tone soothing his nerves. “You can tell me anything. I just didn’t know.” You slid off his lap to settle beside him, curling against his chest. “That’s so interesting, bun. Can you tell me more about it?”

His arm looped around you instinctively, the other hand brushing over your thigh. When you shifted, draping a leg over his waist, he stroked your skin softly, his fingers tracing absent patterns.

“Of course, baby,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your hairline. “But… can I—wanna make you come first, baby.” His gaze flickered to your thigh, a shy pout forming as he spoke.

You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his neck. “Such a sweetie,” you murmured. “Tell me first, please? I’m curious.”

Jungkook licked his lips, nodding before tilting his head down to kiss you gently. “Okay, lovie,” he whispered against your lips, giving you one more soft peck before leaning back, letting you snuggle into him again. “The first time I saw you was… in the hall, freshman year.”

‹ ‹ ‹

Jungkook hit send on a text to Taehyung, confirming their after-school plans for Rocket League, and slipped his phone into his pocket. He was methodically stacking his textbooks from his locker, his mind already wandering to potential team strategies, when a voice cut through the low hum of hallway chatter.

“No thanks, Gyu's parties aren’t really my thing,” you hummed lightly as you closed your locker, your arms full of heavy textbooks. “You go have fun, though, babe. We’ll see each other tomorrow at practice.”

Jungkook’s hand froze on his books, his fingers stilling as he looked up, just in time to see the most beautiful girl he's ever seen in his life glance at who he's assuming is her boyfriend with an easy smile.

He watched quietly as the guy leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips, a quick, practiced gesture. Your boyfriend blew you a cheesy kiss as he walked backward, heading down the hall with his teammates.

Jungkook’s breath hitched as you stood there alone, your cheerleading uniform hugging your figure in a way that made his heart pound painfully in his chest. You were perfect — practically glowing, like you’d just walked straight out of a nerd's wet fucking dream. His wet fucking dream.

His throat felt dry. He turned back to his locker, trying to ground himself in the action of grabbing his things, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw you adjust the weight of your textbooks in your arms. The heavy stack wobbled, and before you could react, one slipped free, tumbling to the floor and taking the rest with it.

“Shit,” you muttered, dropping into a crouch to gather them, but Jungkook was already moving. His textbooks clattered back into his locker as he shut the door in a rush, crossing the space to reach you.

“L-let me,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands worked quickly, gathering the fallen books with care, his long fingers stacking them neatly before he rose to his feet.

“Oh, thank you so much.”

Your voice was sweet, warm, and when Jungkook finally looked up, his heart almost stopped. You were smiling softly at him and it was like the world around him blurred into nothing. His grip on the books faltered for half a second, but he recovered, handing them back to you with a little bow of his head, his cheeks blazing red.

The tardy bell rang, its shrill tone slicing through the moment, but Jungkook couldn’t move. His feet were rooted to the floor, his gaze fixed on you as you shifted the books in your arms, muttering a soft curse under your breath.

“Shit, I gotta run! Mr. Min will kill me if I’m late again,” you squeaked, already dashing down the hall. But before you disappeared around the corner, you turned back, tossing him a quick, “Thank you!” with a smile that left him breathless.

The corridor felt eerily quiet after you were gone, the sound of your voice still echoing in his head. Jungkook stood there for a long moment, his arms limp at his sides, staring blankly at the spot where you’d been.

He finally shook himself free from the haze, his hands moving mechanically as he organized his books. Late for the first time in his life, Jungkook snapped back to reality and sprinted down the hall, heart pounding as he followed your path right to Mr. Min’s class.

› › ›

“No way you fell in love with me then, bunny! We barely even spoke,” you gasped, your finger darting out to poke his stomach. Jungkook’s lips parted with a giggle, his nose scrunching adorably as he squirmed under your touch.

“No, lovie, not then,” he murmured, cheeks flushing as your hand slipped beneath his band tee. Your fingers scratched lightly over his stomach, the gentle touch making him shiver. “But… I-I mean, it wasn’t long after,” he admitted, his voice soft. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as his wide eyes meet yours, catching the way your brows lift with curiosity. You blinked up at him, waiting, patient and eager for him to continue.

‹ ‹ ‹

It had only been a week since Jungkook first saw you in the hallway, but it might as well have been a lifetime. You were everywhere — in his thoughts, his dreams, and in every single fucking non-AP class he attended. English history, algebra.

You were in them all.

Jungkook, always the first to arrive, would settle into his front-row seat, his books neatly arranged and his notes ready to go. He liked being prepared. But lately, his meticulous routine had a new highlight. The moment you walked in.

Sometimes you were with a friend, chatting and laughing as you strolled through the door. Other times, your boyfriend tagged along, his hand slung casually over your shoulder like he was flaunting a trophy. Jungkook told himself it didn’t bother him — not outwardly, at least — but the ache in his chest said otherwise. Still, he kept his head down, his crush buried deep where no one could see it. Someone like you would never look twice at someone like him.

But today, as always, he let himself dream.

You entered English with your friend Amara, your cheer uniform perfectly fitted, your smile lighting up the dull classroom. Jungkook’s eyes followed you despite himself, trailing after you as you took your usual spot at the back of the room. He strained to catch snippets of your conversation as he faced the front, his ears practically twitching when your voice softened.

“I don’t know, Mara,” you sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you set your book down. “It’s just, like, nothing special, you know?” Your voice softened as you gave a discreet glance around, checking for any of your boyfriend’s teammates who might overhear. “I’m not expecting something straight out of the movies, like the world stopping every time we’re together or anything… but I just think there could be… more? I don’t know,” you sighed again, flipping open your textbook with a hint of frustration.

The slight frown tugging at your tone had Jungkook’s own chest tightening. His pencil hovered over his notebook, forgotten, as Amara leaned into your shoulder with a sympathetic hum.

“I get it, honey,” she said, rubbing your arm soothingly. “You’re not asking for too much. Sure, this could be it,” she offered with a small shrug, “but maybe it’s not? You’ve only had one piece of candy, babe. Don’t toss the whole bag — there’s probably like six other flavors in there!”

You let out a quiet snort, pressing a kiss to her cheek in thanks as you shook your head, flipping through your textbook with a small smile.

Jungkook didn’t hear Mrs. Lee’s greeting when she entered. His thoughts were stuck on your words, his pencil idly sketching patterns across the margins of his notes as he wondered what kind of candy you did like.

The rest of class passed in a blur. Jungkook answered every question on the pop quiz mechanically, his pen moving on autopilot. When the bell rang and Mrs. Lee dismissed everyone a few minutes early, he packed up his things, following the stream of students. Somehow, he found himself just a few steps behind you and Amara, your scent filling the air as he tried — and failed — not to look at you.

He told himself it wasn’t intentional. His locker just happened to be near yours, that's all.

But before he could get too close, your voice snapped through the air, and it was nothing like the sweet tone he was used to hearing.

“What are you doing, you freak?”

Jungkook’s heart jumped as he rounded the corner, his brows furrowing at the scene before him. You stood by a locker, your arms crossed and eyes blazing as you glared down a football jock. His hands were raised in mock surrender, but the smirk on his face suggested he wasn’t taking you seriously.

“C’mon, Y/N… it’s just a joke.”

“Do you actually think that's funny, Minho? Like, that brings you amusement?” You spat as you ripped a piece of paper off a locker and scrunched it up, throwing it right at his chest.

Minho’s grin faltered, his gaze darting nervously to Amara, who stood beside you, arms crossed and brow raised in silent judgment.

“It’s just Kim Taehyung. The guy’s a dork—”

“Okay? And you’re a brainless jackass. But I’m not out here writing that on your locker, am I?” You scoffed, bending to snatch the crumpled paper off the ground, shooting him a venomous look. “Scram, freak. Or I’ll tell Chris to have your ass benched for the rest of the season.”

Minho swallowed hard, his demeanor crumbling under your glare. He muttered a half-hearted apology before turning and slinking down the hall, his shoulders hunched.

You rolled your eyes and turned to your locker, shoving your books inside and snapping it shut. Linking arms with Amara, you tossed the paper into the bin as you passed by, vanishing around the corner with her.

Jungkook's heart thundered in his chest as he approached the trash can. He glanced around, then reached in, pulling out the paper. Flattening it against his palm, his lips turned down as he took in the cruel scribbles defacing his best friend’s school photo.

“Virgin.” “Loser.” “Geek.”

Jungkook’s eyes lingered on the corner you’d disappeared around before he refolded the paper and tucked it carefully into his pocket. He walked back to his locker, the whole scene replaying in his mind as he punched in his combination.

Fuck sakes, he sighed to himself, slamming his locker shut with more force than necessary.

Whenever he thought you couldn’t get more perfect, you proved him wrong. Every fucking time.

› › ›

“I didn’t know you were there,” you mumbled softly, your fingers stilling against his stomach as you blinked up at him.

“I know,” Jungkook murmured in reply, his voice tender. A gentle smile tugged at his lips, his gaze so soft it made your chest ache. “That’s what made me fall in love with you.”

Your breath caught, your brows knitting together as you stared at him, every part of you focused on the honesty in his expression. “Really?” you whispered, your voice small, your eyes stinging faintly as you took in the unguarded look on his pretty face.

“Yes, baby.” His nod was slow but sure, his usual nervous stammer absent as he watched you. “I knew you were funny from the jokes I’d hear you tell Amara and Jimin in class. I knew you were beautiful because, well...” he paused, his lips curling into a cheeky little smirk, “I have eyes.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, your lips curving into a grin as you leaned up to press a kiss to his mouth. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he kissed you back, stealing one more when you pulled away.

“But seeing how fiercely kind you are,” he continued, his voice dropping lower, his lisp softening his tone. “When you had nothing to gain from it, maybe even had something to lose…” His fingers traced slow patterns on your thigh, his gaze searching yours with quiet admiration. “That was it for me, baby. Knew I loved you in that moment, as… creepy as it sounds.”

Your heart felt like it might burst as warmth flooded your chest, adoration pouring out of you as you beamed at him. “My god, bunny,” you breathed, a mix of affection and pure horniness swirling in your veins.

Sitting up, you straddled his lap again, his big hands instantly sliding down to gently grip your bum as you leaned in, capturing his lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle.

Your hands found their way around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer as his body melted beneath you, his lips parting to welcome your tongue, soft little sighs slipping from him as you deepened the kiss. When you finally pulled back, just enough to breathe, you murmured against his lips, “How did I land someone like you, huh?”

Jungkook’s response was a flustered sound, his lips parting as his eyes blinked open. “I’m the lucky one, not you,” he mumbled, his tone laced with that bratty insistence that sent heat pooling between your thighs.

You smirked, pulling back with a teasing glint in your eyes. “No,” you said with a giggle, your voice full of playful defiance. “I’m the lucky one.”

Jungkook’s pout deepened, his brows pulling together as his lips formed a soft, reluctant line. He didn’t like disagreeing with you, but there was no way he was letting you think anything less than the truth. “Baby, you could ask literally anyone in the entire school, and they’d all say—”

Your smile pursed into a soft frown, your fingers trailing along his jaw as your tone shifted. “Jungkook, I don’t care what anyone else says or thinks about us. They don’t know us. It’s just you and me, bunny.”

His lips parted slightly, his eyes wide as he looked at you, completely undone. Words failed him, leaving him silent as he took you in. Un-fucking-real, you were.

“Now admit I’m the lucky one,” you whispered, leaning in close as your hips rolled forward against his lap. His fingers tightened on your ass instinctively, his breath hitching at your movements.

“Lovie, n-no, you can’t do that—” His voice broke, his cock twitching against you.

“Yes, I can,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his ear. “Say it, bunny.” You pressed back into his hands, your hips grinding harder, the slow, deliberate rhythm making his head tip back against the headboard. His chest rose and fell in shallow pants, soft whimpers escaping his lips.

“Oh, g-god,” he choked out, his voice shaky as his hips bucked up involuntarily. Your pace quickened, your barely covered cunt pressing just right against his bulge, drawing a breathy moan from you.

“Say it,” you urged, your voice dipping lower as your hands gripped his shoulders for leverage. You ground down harder, letting your soaked panties slide over his length.

His head shook weakly, his eyes clenching shut as his body trembled beneath you, his sticky covered-cock stiffening even more with every grind of your hips. “N-no, no—”

“Yes,” you breathed, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you picked up speed, your clit pulsing from the friction as your hips rolled fluidly over him. “I’m the lucky one, bunny. Say it.”

His body jerked beneath you, his cock twitching furiously as you moved. “I—” His voice faltered, another choked moan slipping out.

“Say it,” you commanded, your voice firm but laced with sweetness as your hips ground down harder. His moan was guttural, his whole body trembling as he edged closer to breaking.

“Uh, f-fuck, baby, please,” Jungkook pleaded, his voice high and trembling as his fingers sank deeper into the plush flesh of your ass. His grip tightened instinctively, desperate, as his hips snapped up in rhythm with your thrusts. “Please.”

“I’m the lucky one,” you insisted, your voice rising, each word punctuated by the purposeful grind of your hips. Your breath caught, a sharp gasp escaping when the tip of his cock pressed just right against you with a particularly rough roll. “Say it, bunny! I’m the lucky—”

“You’re the lucky one!” Jungkook cried out, his voice breaking as his hips jerked up, his cock throbbing painfully beneath the damp fabric of his boxers. Tears stung behind his closed eyelids, his body trembling as he teetered on the edge again, so close it was unbearable. “You’re the fucking lucky one, baby. You’re the lucky one… y-you’re t-the lucky one!”

The desperate confession sent a surge through your body, your fingers sliding up to cradle the sides of his neck. You squeezed lightly as your body tensed, the heat pooling in your core snapping all at once. Your orgasm crashed over you, a sharp gasp spilling from your lips as you shuddered above him.

Jungkook whimpered softly, his hips bucking up to meet yours instinctively, his hands gripping your asscheeks tighter to guide you through it. His head fell back against the headboard, his lips parted as he watched you ride out your high. His eyes were dazed, his heart pounding as he felt every tremble of your soft body against his.

“God, baby,” you panted, your voice breathless and raw as you collapsed forward. Jungkook caught you instantly, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist as you buried your face into his neck. His breath was shaky as he tilted his head to give you space, pressing his lips softly to your temple.

He kept moving beneath you, gentle, shallow thrusts that made you moan quietly into his neck. His own jaw went slack when he felt a little drool slip from your parted lips onto his skin, a faint whimper slipping from his throat. Your body was so relaxed, so pliant against him, that it felt like you might melt into him entirely.

Only when he felt your thighs begin to quiver from oversensitivity did he finally slow his movements, adjusting your shaky legs around his waist. He held you closer, snug against his chest, his big arms cradling you.

“So good, my sweetheart. Thank you,” you murmured weakly, your voice soft against his skin.

Jungkook shivered at the nickname, keening under you as you nuzzled deeper into his neck. “Of course, lovie,” he whispered back, fingers toying with the frills of your skirt. His heart swelled as he thought about the way those frills bounced when you were excited, how they flicked in the air when you ran up and jumped into his arms to greet him when he met you at the gym after practice.

He would never understand how someone like you chose to love him so openly, so unapologetically. You wore your love for him like a badge, proud to show the world that you were his, and it knocked the fucking air out of him every time.

He remembered the shock on everyone’s faces when the two of you first got together. Your classmates, your clique — even your best friend Amara, who was always very kind to him, couldn’t hide her surprise. The social gap between you was obvious, and Jungkook never blamed anyone for questioning it.

Even Taehyung, his own best friend, had laughed so hard he cried when Jungkook told him the news, punching his arm repeatedly in disbelief.

But you didn’t care. You let people take their time adjusting, sure, but if they didn’t? You made it clear they had no choice. His fierce, confident angel — always ready to defend him, to fight for him.

Jungkook was completely smitten. Utterly, irrevocably in love. He didn’t think he could possibly be any happier.

“Bunny, I really want to have sex.”

Huh. Never fucking mind.

“Y-yes,” he breathed instantly.

You smiled into his neck, a light laugh slipping from your lips as you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. “Yes?”

“Yes, please?”

Your grin widened as you sat up, your fingers slipping into the soft hair at the back of his head. His arms remained locked around your waist, holding you tightly against him as he blinked up at you, cheeks flushed and lips parted.

“Yeah?” you teased, your voice gentle but laced with amusement. “You want to, baby?”

His nod was immediate, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. “I-I want everything with you,” he whispered, his tone so certain.

“Babyyy,” you cooed, your nose scrunching as you took in how fucking adorable he was. Leaning down, you peppered his pout with a dozen soft kisses, each one pulling the faintest smile to his lips before you leaned back. “I’m so excited, bunny,” you beamed, practically buzzing with giddiness as you pressed a quick peck to the side of his neck.

Gently, you began untangling his arms from around your waist, earning a quiet little pout as he reluctantly let you go. His wide, curious eyes stayed glued to you, watching as you stood on shaky legs and walked toward your desk.

His ears turned pink the second you bent down, his stomach flipping when he caught the full view of your very wet panties �� as if he hadn’t just been grinding against you like a desperate puppy until you came two fucking minutes ago.

You hummed softly to yourself, rifling through a bag on the floor before pulling something out. Turning back, you padded toward him across the fluffy pink rug with a pretty grin.

Jungkook’s stomach dropped as his eyes locked on the object in your hand.

“I didn’t know what actual size you were, bunny, but you're big,” you giggled, holding up a box of condoms. An opened box of condoms. “So these should work.”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly as his wide eyes flicked between you and the box.

Jealousy wasn’t something Jungkook had ever really felt before. An only child, top of every one of his classes, and with no ex-girlfriends or siblings to contend with, he’d never had much of a reason.

But… well, things could certainly change.

You were about to climb back onto the bed when you caught your boyfriend’s expression, and the unease on his face was impossible to ignore. He obviously tried to mask it, but he was terrible at that, and the moment you saw it, your brows furrowed.

You gently placed the box next to his glasses on your bedside table, your focus shifting entirely to him. “Hello?” you asked gently, stepping closer and cupping his face with both hands.

“Hello,” he echoed softly, his voice wavering as he forced a small, unconvincing smile.

Your frown deepened. The confusion swirling in your eyes only grew as your fingers traced over his pink cheeks, trying to draw his gaze to yours. But he didn’t meet your eyes. His lashes fluttered, and his gaze fixed somewhere behind you. You caught the faintest glint of unshed tears, and your chest clenched painfully.

“Jungkookie,” you whispered, your voice soft but full of concern. You dropped your hands to the bed and climbed back into his lap, settling against him as you took his trembling arms in your hands.

His body felt tense beneath yours, and you searched his face, desperate to understand. “Baby, what’s wrong? We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Oh god, did I pressure you into this?” Your words came out in a rush, your heart racing at the thought. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I would never—”

“No, n-no, lovie,” Jungkook cut you off, his voice shaking as his head snapped up to meet your worried gaze. His nose was red, the way it always got when he was holding back tears, and your heart twisted further.

You leaned in without hesitation, pressing soft, reassuring kisses to his cheeks as his breath stuttered. His sniffle was quiet but unmistakable, and your frown deepened as you stroked his arms.

“Never force me,” he mumbled, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t catch it. “You’d never… could never.” The break in his voice made your chest ache. “M’sorry, lovie,” he whispered. “T-this is so embarrassing. I… I can leave—”

The moment your hands slipped away from his arms, Jungkook felt his chest clench like it was collapsing in on itself. His vision blurred as he blinked up at you, only to find you leaning back, your face etched with hurt. The sight made him wish he hadn’t looked at all.

“You’re embarrassed?” you asked quietly. Your gaze dropped, shoulders slumped as you swallowed thickly.

Jungkook’s heart splintered.

“I-in front of me?”

And just like that, he thought he might die.

Jungkook had never heard you stammer. You’d never hesitated or questioned yourself in all the time he’d known you. From the moment you first started growing close, you’d been so open, so you. Sharing every part of yourself with him so effortlessly, so willingly.

Emotionally, physically, everything.

You’d always encouraged Jungkook to do the same. And even though he was naturally more timid, careful with who he opened up to, with you, it was easy. Automatic. He found himself wanting to tell you everything. Wanting to show you every piece of himself, no matter how small or unpolished. It was like he got high off it — off knowing you wanted to know him as much as he wanted to know you.

The day you asked him to be official was the single best day of his entire life. Honestly, every day with you had felt like that. You were so bright, so beautiful, so confident, so contagious. Pulling him out of his shell with such love and ease in the way only you could. Like you were born to love him, and he was born to love you.

But now, here he was, making you doubt yourself — maybe even your relationship. The two things that felt like the only substantial evidence that could ever convince Jungkook of a higher power. All because he was a jealous fucking crybaby.

There was just no fucking way.

“N-no, baby,” he choked out, his voice trembling as his hands darted forward, catching yours before you could move away. He gripped them tightly, his panic bubbling over as he shook his head frantically, his damp bangs swaying with the motion. “No, lovie, no, please.” You looked so fucking sad. He did that? He made you sad? What in the fuck.

“Lovie, t-the condoms,” he blurted out, his voice cracking as his grip on your hands tightened, like letting go might make everything fall apart.

You blinked down at him, confused. “Yeah? What about them, bun?” you asked softly, shifting back into his lap, your hands resting gently on his thighs. “Do you not want to use them?”

Jungkook swallowed when you tilted your head, your lips curving into the smallest pout. “I’m not on the pill or anything, baby,” you added, your hands drifting up to graze over his stomach. “If you trust yourself to pull out, we can try that... But we’re still stopping by the drugstore before my parents get home for Plan B,” you teased, your fingers brushing over his soft abs. “I’m not ready for a little mini valedictorian running around my—”

“Open.”

The word tumbled out of Jungkook’s mouth before he could stop it, rushed and breathless, cutting you off mid-sentence. His lashes fluttered nervously, and his cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of pink as he realized what you’d just implied.

Kids. With him?

His cock twitched at the thought, a pulse of heat surging through him that left him slightly dazed. But the panic wasn’t gone yet.

“The condoms,” he stammered, his voice thick as he swallowed hard. “T-they’re open.”

Your head tilted further, confusion clouding your expression as your fingers continued their slow, absentminded trail over his skin. “Huh?” you hummed, glancing over at the bedside table.

Reaching for the box, you leaned away just long enough to grab it before settling back onto his lap. Jungkook watched, his wide eyes glued to you as you straddled him once more.

You pressed a soft kiss to his trembling lips, silencing the shaky noise that escaped him. His hands instinctively found your hips as your fingers skimmed over the box, his heart hammering against his ribcage.

“Oh,” you hummed, holding it up between you, your tone light and casual. “I opened them earlier to check if they’d fit you, baby. The guy at the store last week wouldn’t let me test them there,” you added with an eye rol as you thought back to the interaction. “But he said they stretch, so if you’re really as big as I said you were, these should be fine.”

Jungkook’s ears burned, his gaze fixed on the box as your words sank in. Your confidence left his mind spinning. His chest swelled with a confusing mix of pride and embarrassment, and for a second, he didn’t know which was stronger.

But you didn’t seem to notice his spiraling thoughts. Tossing the box back onto the bedside table, you giggled softly, your fingers trailing up his neck to his flushed neck. “I don’t think he believed me,” you added, your lips curving into a playful grin. “But he also looked really uncomfortable the whole time. So I just grabbed these and came home.”

Your laugh filled the room, soft and sweet, and Jungkook wanted to record it and listen to it on repeat while he studied. He tightened his grip on your hips, his lips parting to say something, anything, but his brain felt like it was shortcircuiting. You do that to him a lot.

Then your head tilted, your thumbs pressing gentle circles into his tense shoulders. “You okay, bunny?” you asked softly.

Jungkook blinked up at you, his throat dry and his cheeks burning. “Y-yeah,” he managed, his voice cracking faintly as his ears flushed pink. “I’m good, lovie.”

You hummed softly, the sound gently skeptical, as if you didn’t quite believe him but weren’t going to push just yet. Your hands drifted lower, tracing soothing patterns over his arms, and Jungkook felt some of the tension in his chest begin to ease.

But then your eyes caught his, glinting with that familiar mischief, and as you leaned in to press a feather-light kiss to the corner of his mouth, Jungkook knew he was doomed.

“Good,” you murmured against his lips, your voice soft and deliberate as you pressed your mouth to his in a slow kiss.

His breath stuttered, his grip on your hips tightening as your lips moved against his, stealing the tiny gasp that slipped out of him. When you pulled back, it was only slightly, your lips brushing his as you whispered, “Did you think I used some already, my love?”

Jungkook froze, his wide, doe-like eyes snapping to yours. You felt him swallow hard, his brows knitting together as pink flooded his ears. Slowly, he gave you the smallest, saddest nod, his gaze dropping to where your hands rested on his shoulders.

“I-I didn’t know,” he stammered, his voice barely audible, the words shaky and unsure. “I'm sorry baby, I thought maybe you already…”

“Oh, my baby,” you cooed, shaking your head gently as you cupped his face. Your thumbs brushed over his cheeks as you tilted his chin back up, forcing him to meet your eyes. The moment his gaze locked with yours, you leaned in, pressing another kiss to his pout.

His breath hitched, his hands trembling as they clutched at your waist. He let out the softest little whimper when your fingers slid into his hair, tugging lightly. When you pulled back, you pressed a sweet kiss to his nose, smiling when his eyelids lowered in content.

“I’m still a virgin, bunny,” you whispered, against his mouth. "We already talked about this. We’re going to be each other’s first… we promised.”

Jungkook’s eyes fluttered shut at your words, his chest heaving as he let out a shaky breath. His throat bobbed visibly as he swallowed, and you could practically see the wave of relief wash over him.

You pressed another kiss to his swollen lips, your fingers threading back through his hair. “I meant that, Kookie."

His response was a quiet whimper as his hands slid up from your hips to clutch your waist. “I-I love you,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. “So much, baby.”

Then he was kissing you again, and it was different this time — more urgent, more desperate, his lips moving against yours with a need that was just so him.

You hummed into his mouth, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you let him take control. His kisses grew more open-mouthed, sloppier, each one punctuated by the quietest little whimpers.

“I love you too, my baby,” you whispered, pulling back just enough to catch your breath. Your fingers slid through his hair, gently tugging as he leaned forward, chasing your lips. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, baby,” he stammered, his big eyes fluttering open to meet yours. “With everything. Always.”

Jungkook’s lips didn’t falter, moving to your neck when you smiled happily at his words. Your breathing picked up as his lips pressed and sucked at your pulse point. His tongue flicked over the sensitive skin, and your hips ground against him instinctively, drawing a muffled whine from his throat.

It was so messy now, your slick soaking through your panties and smearing over the fabric. Every slow roll of your hips had his cock throbbing, straining against the damp cotton of his briefs and damp denim of his jeans, the friction making you both shudder.

“Baby, hold on,” you gasped, your voice breathy as your fingers found their way back to his hair,.

“Mm, n-no, please,” he mumbled into your skin, his voice slurred like he was drunk. He nuzzled deeper into the crook of your neck, his hands squeezing your boobs, his fingers trembling slightly as they grazed your bare skin. “Don’t wanna stop.”

“We won't, bunny,” you murmured, your words catching in your throat as his hips jerked up, grinding against you. You gripped his wrists, pulling his hands from your chest, and he blinked up at you cutely.

“Wh—” he started, the protest dying on his lips the second you were tugging your crop top off and tossing it aside. His gaze snapped to your chest, his bunny teeth pulling his bottom lip into his mouth in impatience.

“Babyy,” he breathed, his voice cracking. His head shook softly as his throat tightened in hunger. He leaned forward, diving toward you, but you stopped him with a gentle hand on his chest. “Hold on, bun,” you said softly, reaching down for the hem of his band tee.

Jungkook caught on instantly, his hands rushing to tug the shirt off, yanking it over his head and tossing it somewhere to the side. He was back on you immediately, his warm chest pressing against yours as his lips found yours again.

You melted into it, slow and lingering, savoring the way his lips dissolved against yours. When he pulled back, his chest heaved, his voice shaky as he stammered, “How—what do you—uh, should I—”

“Mm,” you murmured, your hands cupping his face. His cheeks were hot under your palms, and his wide eyes blinked up at you. “Should we try with me on top, bunny? Do you feel more comfortable on your back?”

He furrowed his brows immediately, his lips parting like he was offended you’d even suggest prioritizing his comfort over yours. “Lovie,” he said, his voice soft but determined, “what’s more comfortable for you? Are your legs hurting? Come on, let’s—”

Before you could respond, he was moving. His arms slid around you, and he gently flipped you onto your back, his body hovering over yours.

You blinked up at him, surprised but amused, your hands brushing his shoulders. “Okay, this is more comfy, bunny. I like it.”

Jungkook’s cheeks flushed, his lips twitching into a shy smile. “Good,” he murmured, his voice so soft you almost missed it. His hands slid over your hips as he shifted to kneel on the bed.

“I-I'll grab the condom,” he said, his voice cracking faintly as he reached for the box on your bedside table. His hands shook as he fumbled with the box, and you tilted your head, watching him with a soft smile.

“Kookie,” you said gently, your hand brushing over his thigh. His eyes snapped to yours, wide and nervous. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” he stammered, nodding quickly, but his breath was shallow, and his cheeks were a fiery red. “I’m just—I’m so excited...”

Your heart swelled, and you sat up slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Me too,” you giggled. “Can I do it?”

He nodded instantly, his gaze fixed on you as you took the condom from his hands, his chest heaving as you sat up fully, your knees brushing his.

As you were tearing it open, Jungkook hastily clambered off the bed. His cheeks were pink as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans, tugging the fabric down his legs.

You watched as he stepped out of the denim, his thighs flexing with the motion, leaving him in just his black briefs. He hesitated for a second, glancing at you shyly, but your pleased smile eased the tension in his tummy.

“Yummy,” you hummed, your voice giddy as you patted the spot in front of you on the bed.

Jungkook nibbled back a smile, climbing back onto your mattress and kneeling in front of you again.

“So pretty, bun,” you praised softly as you dug your hand into your boyfriend's boxers, your warm hand wrapping around his sticky length to pull it out fully.

Jungkook’s breath hitched the moment he felt the contact on his bare cock, his lips trembling as he tried to respond. But all that came out was a shaky moan, his head tipping back as his hands gripped your waist for balance. His reddened cock twitched in your hand, and your thumb grazed the fresh, slick bead of precum pooling at the tip.

You glanced down at his length, then at his shirt beside you on the bed, biting your lip softly. “Baby?” you asked gently, your voice pulling his attention back to you.

His brows furrowed in pleasure as he blinked down at you, his chest heaving. “Y-yeah, baby?” he stammered, his voice breathless.

“I want to clean you up, s'that okay?” you murmured, your tone sweet as your fingers stroked him softly.

He nodded immediately, a faint whine slipping from his lips. “Of course, lovie. Use, uh, m-my shirt, yeah?” His hands fluttered slightly like he wasn’t sure where to put them, but his gaze stayed fixed on you.

Your brows knitted together in thought, and you glanced at the shirt again, the corner of your lip pulling between your teeth. “But then you won’t have anything to wear later,” you mused, tilting your head as you pictured him walking out of your house half-naked. Your parents were very open and sex-positive, and they loved your adorable boyfriend. But some things were just for the two of you.

You pushed the thought away, your grip on his cock shifting slightly as another idea sparked. “Baby,” you said again, your voice quieter this time, and his eyes darted back to yours.

“Yes, lovie?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly, the furrow in his brow deepening at the soft tone of your voice.

“I’m going to clean you up.” You repeated, your lips curving into a reassuring smile as you stroked him lightly, your thumb circling the leaky head.

He nodded again, his breathing shallow. “Y-yeah, of course,” he stammered. “I-I can get some tissues if you want—”

“With my mouth,” you whispered, tilting your head as you glanced up at him.

Jungkook’s body went still for a beat. His eyes closed instantly as he swallowed harshly. “Lovie, I can, uh—I can grab some paper towels or—”

You pouted slightly. “You don’t want me to?” you murmured, your lips curling down just a little as your hand paused around his length. “Didn’t you like it last time?”

His eyes snapped open immediately, panic flashing across his face as he scrambled to respond. “I loved it, baby,” he blurted. “Wh-what the heck, no, it’s just that you don’t have to—”

“Baby,” you interrupted, your frown deepening a little as your hand squeezed lightly around his wet, reddened cock. You leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his pout. “Anything I offer to do for you, I really wanna... Please, bunny?”

Jungkook’s breath hitched at your words, his wide eyes flickering over your face like he was trying to internally screenshot the moment. “O-of course, baby,” he stammered. “Yes. You can do anything to me.”

You smiled at him sweetly, letting go of him gently to shuffle back. You sat up and slipped your fingers under the hem of your cheer skirt, Jungkook’s eyes widening as you lifted your hips, peeling the fabric off and tossing it aside.

His gaze dropped instantly to the pink panties that clung to you, a dark patch of slick soaking through the fabric where it met your pussy. The curve of your asscheeks swallowed the edges, and Jungkook swore he heard his cock cry in response.

He choked on his breath, his head tipping back briefly before snapping forward again, his eyes fixed on you like he couldn’t bear to look away. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low and shaky.

“Don’t curse, bunny,” you teased softly, the corner of your mouth quirking up as you knelt in front of him. Your hand wrapped around his length again, your other hand resting lightly on his thigh as you leaned down.

He trembled the moment your tongue flicked out, licking delicately at the sticky head of his cock. “Oh god,” he whimpered, his thighs tensing under your touch as his hips jerked up.

“Mm,” you hummed softly, your tongue dragging over the sensitive tip before licking a slow, long stripe along the length, cleaning him up thoroughly. Jungkook gasped, his head tipping back as his hands hovered in the air, unsure whether to grip the bed or your hair.

Your lips closed around the head, and the sound he made was devastating — a soft, broken whimper as his cock twitched against your tongue. You took him deeper, your hand sliding along the base as you hollowed your cheeks, and Jungkook practically crumpled in on himself.

“B-baby,” he stammered, his voice cracking as his hips jerked up involuntarily. “S-so warm—ah, fuck—”

Your fingers dug lightly into his thigh as you steadied him, a soft hum vibrating around his length. His hands found their way to your hair, trembling as they cradled your head, his breathing ragged as he gasped out your name between stuttering moans.

You hummed around him again, the vibration pulling a soft cry from his lips as his long fingers gripped your shoulders. He was already shaking, already on the edge again, his cock throbbing against your tongue as you took him a little deeper.

Pulling back slightly, you let your tongue swirl over the head one more time before trailing lower, licking along the length and then past it. Jungkook’s breath hitched, his thighs tensing as you nudged at his balls with your tongue, taking one into your mouth gently.

“Ah—baby,” he gasped, his voice high and breathy, his hands flying to your hair to ground himself.

You hummed softly, your hand continuing to stroke his cock as you sucked lightly, your tongue lapping at the soft skin of his balls. His thighs trembled against your arms, his hips jerking slightly with each flick of your tongue.

“Oh my god, lovie,” he whined, his voice shaking as his head tipped back, exposing the flushed column of his throat. “You’re—ahh—so g-good at this.”

You pulled back for a moment, pressing a soft kiss to his other ball before licking a wet stripe back up his length, your lips curling into a smile at the way his whole body shuddered. “I don’t even know what I’m doing, bunny, I just know I want to eat you,” you giggled before taking him back into your mouth.

The scent of his body wash mixed with a hint of sweat wafting from his skin, combined with the sound of his whimpers, made your head fucking spin. You moaned softly around his cock, the sound reverberating against him and pulling a loud, choky cry from his lips.

Jungkook’s breathing was ragged, his moans spilling freely as his hands clenched and unclenched against you. “Baby,” he whined, his voice high and broken, “I-I can’t, t-too much, I’m, oh, baby—”

You pulled back slowly, your tongue flicking over the sensitive cock-head one last time. His entire body shuddered, his head tipping back as his damp hair brushed his flushed shoulders.

“Ah,” he huffed, his bunny smile blooming across his face as he blinked down at you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. “T-thank you, baby.”

Your heart squeezed at the sight of him — so pink, so happy, so ridiculously pretty. You licked your lips and smiled up at him, reaching for the condom you had placed on the sheet next to you. His gaze stayed locked on you, lips parted as he breathed through his nose, his body still trembling slightly as you slid the condom down his cock.

The moment it was on, Jungkook shuddered, a pathetic whimper slipping from his lips. You beamed at him, your hands smoothing over his thick thighs as you leaned back into the pillows. “C'mere, bunny,” you urged, reaching up to pull him down toward you.

He was there in an instant, his body folding easily over yours as he settled against you, his arms bracketing your head. Your hands looped around his neck, pulling him into a quick kiss. His lips hummed against yours, and you could feel the faintest smile spreading as he sighed softly into the kiss.

“Okay, baby,” you whispered, brushing your lips over his, your voice teasing. “Take me.”

Jungkook giggled under his breath, his face so pink it almost matched the tips of his ears. “Okay,” he murmured, his voice soft and breathy as he leaned back slightly, his hands finding their way to your thighs.

His thumbs stroked the soft flesh there, his touch slow and amazed. He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the dark, damp patch between your legs. His breathing stuttered, wide eyes locked on the sight before him as his fingers twitched slightly against your skin.

“Baby,” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly as he dipped his slender fingers under the hem of your panties. He glanced up at you, his lashes fluttering as his lips parted. “G-gonna take these… take these off.”

You nodded, biting your lip, and Jungkook swallowed hard as he hooked his fingers around the fabric. Slowly, carefully, he began dragging them down, his tongue twitching as the pink cloth clung to your sticky lips before peeling away.

“God,” he breathed out, his voice scratchy as he pulled the panties free, tossing them next to his discarded t-shirt. His gaze flicked back up to you for a moment, a little shy and a lot hungry, before dropping back down.

“C-can I…” he started, his voice small and hesitant as his fingers flexed against your thighs. “Can I lick it?”

Heat flooded your cheeks, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you nodded. “Yeah, baby,” you whispered, “can do whatever you want, my love.”

Jungkook’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, and he didn’t waste another second. He shifted lower, his head dipping between your thighs as his hands pushed them gently apart. His breath was warm against your slick folds, and the first swipe of his tongue pulled a sharp gasp from your lips.

“Shit, baby,” you gasped, your voice trembling as his tongue licked a fat stripe from your entrance to your clit.

Jungkook let out the softest whimper, already addicted to the taste, the smell of you lingering in his nose. He wanted more. Needed more.

Your boyfriend's hands slid up to grip your thighs as his lips wrapped around your clit with vigor. He suckled greedily, his tongue flicking over the slick bud, and the strangled sound you made pulled a loud moan from his throat.

He was ravenous, going at it like he hadn’t shared a big lunch with you during your free period at school or scarfed down three strawberry pop-tarts the second you got back to your house. His tongue licked and lapped with sloppy desperation, his muffled whines vibrating against your pussy as he buried his face deeper. His hands tightened on your thighs, holding you open as the nose you always called angelic brushed against your clit devilishly. Every shaky breath he took rode right through you as he nuzzled his face in deeper.

“Kookie,” you choked, your hands flying to his hair, threading through the growing strands as your hips jerked up involuntarily. “S-so good, baby. You’re so good. What the fuckk.”

The praise drew another whimper from him. His tongue dipped lower, teasing your entrance before sliding in, his face pressing as close as he could get. He didn’t know what the fuck he was doing, but if there was anything your boyfriend excelled at, it was learning fast.

Groaning into you, the vibration sent sparks racing up your spine, and your back arched off the bed as a loud cry spilled from your lips. Jungkook was lost, consumed, his tongue working over you with messy hunger. Every sound you made spurred him on, his moans growing louder, more desperate as he tried not to press into the mattress and put pressure on his throbbing cock. He was worried even that wouldn’t be enough, though, afraid that the scent of your pussy alone was enough to make him cum.

“L-love it, baby, thank you,” he whimpered into you, his voice muffled as he refused to pull away, his big tongue immediately going back to circling and lapping over your clit.

You could barely respond, your throat raw from your little cries as his movements grew sloppier, needier. His whines were constant, muffled by your pussy lips.

He was relentless, his lips and tongue moving with an urgency that had your thighs trembling around his head. The room felt so warm, the wet, lewd sounds of his mouth against your cunt filling the air, each slick movement sending you higher and higher.

“Kookie,” you gasped, your fingers threading through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. His body jerked at the touch, a muffled groan vibrating against your folds. Your hand in his hair pushed his head just a little until he— oh, there.

“Shitt! I’m gonna, uh, I’m gonna cum, baby. F-fuck, bunny, let’s do it.”

He whimpered in response but didn’t stop immediately, his tongue slipping over your clit a few more times. His nose brushed against you as he took a deep breath, savoring the smell, before finally pulling back. Panting softly, his lips and chin shone with your slick as he blinked up at you, drunk and breathless.

Jungkook’s body trembled as he crawled back up, his hands bracketing your waist until he was fully resting over you. For a moment, neither of you moved, both staring into each other’s flushed, panting faces.

Then your lips curled into a grin, the tension in your chest breaking, and Jungkook couldn’t help but follow. His bunny smile spread wide across his pink face, his eyes soft and adoring.

You reached up, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into a kiss. He melted into you immediately, his lips soft and sticky against yours, his body pressing into you like he was trying to become part of you.

“Love you so much, baby,” he whispered into your mouth.

“I love you more, bunny,” you murmured back, your fingers brushing over the back of his neck as you pressed another soft kiss to his pout. His lips lingered against yours for a moment before you pulled back, your gaze excited as you watched him catch his breath.

Jungkook swallowed hard, his gaze flickering down to your body beneath him. Slowly, his hand moved to wrap around his cock, the sight making your breath hitch. He was so focused, his lips parted slightly, his bunny teeth worrying at his bottom lip as his brows furrowed in concentration.

He lined himself up with your entrance, the tip of his cock brushing against your folds as you both looked down, watching the moment. His chest rumbled with a quiet, shaky whine, his whole body bracing itself for a quick death as he pushed forward slightly, the head of his cock breaching your entrance.

Your breath caught, the stretch foreign but not unpleasant — a sharp heat that quickly melted into something deeper and so much fuller. “Kookie,” you sighed out, your fingers scratching softly at the nape of his neck in encouragement.

Jungkook’s breath stuttered, his gaze darting up to meet yours, searching for reassurance that you were okay. You read the look instantly, nodding softly. “I'm good, baby. So good. Keep going, bunny.”

His lips trembled as he nodded, his hand tightening around the base of his cock as he slowly pushed in further. The wet heat of your walls enveloped him, and his head tipped forward, a broken moan spilling from his lips as he rested his forehead against your shoulder.

“O-oh my god, l-lovie,” he stammered, his voice cracking as his body shuddered against yours. He fed another inch of his cock deeper, the sensation causing his free hand next to your head to curl into a fist.

a/n if you're gobsmacked at the sudden ending, that's what u get for not reading the author's note :P sorry guys dklsdfskl LOVE U and so sorry this was shite oop 🩷 good night

perm taglist: @elinaki92 @parapiop7 @photogenius-530 @vantaebearr @crazy-eight17 @aalisiyahxstar @jungshook-v @lovieku @apobangpogirlyyy @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby @whoa-jo @kooeuphoria @junecat18 @fr0ggieth1nk @joonwater @myjungkookthighs @nikidream24 @whothefuckisthishoe @4noirre @gaebestie @uzum-uzum @lllucere @dragonflygurl4 @kissyfacekoo @rpwprpwprpwprw

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hellfire--cult · 1 year ago

Note

Harrington!reader who struck up a friendship with Billy after finding him crying. It wasn’t long until she developed a crush on the older boy. But she knew she was the least attractive girl in school, and on the cheerleading squad. Every girl was all over him, she never thought he’d see her that way.

Movie Night

I'm so sorry, I got carried away, and I made it super long, SO I HOPE YOU ENJOY AND I HOPE EVERYONE ELSE DOES this has: fluff, angst, mean brother persona on Steve's behalf, OOC Billy Hargrove, soft side.

wc: 8k (i got a lil inspired, no one requests Billy and I love to write him 😭)

Stupid Steve. Stupid school. Stupid fucking stereotypes.

You understand, you get it, the fucking sister of Steve Harrington should be the perfect girl, perfect as her idiotic brother. If only they knew that being in every single sport isn’t what Steve wants, it isn’t what he desires, it isn’t what he always dreamed about.

But it’s not that perfection they want from you, oh no. It’s not your fault you have bad eye sight so you have to wear glasses, and for some reason that made you fucking undesirable. Just because you are wearing glasses, and you’ve been wearing them ever since middle school, where there were minimum problems with it, and now in high school when you just want to be able to date someone, or even kiss, it’s almost impossible because of them.

So yes, you knew people didn’t want to be with you, and you knew that it was all because of the idealization of the Harrington girl not meeting their expectations. Jokes on them, every single fucking guy in school looks like stepped on shit.

When you finally got into freshmen year, you already knew Steve was the most popular guy in school, always boosting about it at the dinner table, father always saying how proud he is for Steve being the captain of almost every fucking imaginable sport. You looked up to Steve, you really did look up to your brother… Until you crossed those forsaken high school doors, and the only face your brother sent you was that of disgust and turned his back on you.

And that sets your fate.

Now as a Junior, your brother finally graduates this year. Ever since he started dating Nancy who is in the same year as you, he has relatively changed. At home, he now tries to invite you to hang with him at the mall, or tell you to have dinner together when your parents aren’t home… You declined his invitation every time. You prefer to eat dinner in your bed, alone, while he drives away to be with Nancy. Just you, your books, and some good music. You are fine.

It doesn’t help the fact that you have just one friend at school, and she’s not even always with you because she is Nancy’s Best Friend. Barb was always nice to you, and it’s the only one you talked to in class, because then in cheerleading practice, which you had to enter because you needed extracurricular credit because your parents said so, you were given the cold shoulder by every teammate there. You didn’t participate in the cheers really, you just wear the uniform every now and then and pass them bottles of water.

You just have to survive one year, just one more year and you can go to college, probably start anew, meet people, meet someone. You fixed your glasses on the bridge of your nose as you took notes while sitting at the bleachers, hearing the squeak of the tennis shoes of all the boys in the basketball team just going around. You hear a thump, making your eyes look up to see your brother laying on the floor, making you frown.

Then it made sense, as Billy Hargrove smirked, helping your brother stand up again.

You knew that he wanted to take Steve’s position as the most popular guy at school, getting prom king and all that shit. You have heard your brother complaining about him on the phone sometimes, maybe to Nancy or to one of his friends. From what you’ve seen, Billy looked like a tough and irritating guy, and there is no need for you to get close to him at all, and you really could care less about what he does to your brother.

And that is basically your everyday life. Invisible, and you’re fine with that.

You’re fine.

“Hey, can you believe that guy?” Your head snapped up to see your brother at your door, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. You raised your eyebrow at him, looking back down at your book. “If he takes away my captainship in the team, I will– Dad will fucking cut my head off.”

“That’s what you get for following his dreams from day one.” You mumble in a low tone, but he caught onto it, frowning at you.

“I have my own dreams. I don’t follow his.” You nodded at that while still not looking at him. You really could care two shits about all of this.

“Maybe Nancy can help you with this kinda stuff. I'm busy.” You heard shuffling at the door and then a sigh. You heard steps and you raised your head to hear him slam his door shut, and you knew he was probably getting ready to go to a party or something because of the music he started playing on his radio. Not once you were invited to one of those, not even by your own brother. He had hosted parties before, and you were commanded to stay in your room all night. The only time you came out of your room was to the bathroom to pee, and even then you had to wait because people were always making out inside.

You got up from bed, closed the biology book to then set it on your desk, looking over to your library of VHS’s tilting your head to check what to watch tonight. You picked Terms of Endearment and Sixteen Candles. Your collection was full of romance and dramatic movies because it’s just your favorite genre to watch. Same with your books, your favorite being Sense & Sensibility.

Steve left after a few minutes, and you made your way down to start your Friday movie night, and tomorrow will be the same, next weekend too. You should get more movies, you are on a roll of rewatching stuff by now. But it was at this moment, when you put the cassette into your player, and you finally sat down and started watching Sixteen Candles that it all simply fell apart.

Your rough facade crumbles down as you see the romance of the characters on screen, the friendship that is displayed in these movies, late calls with friends, kicking your feet because the guy you liked kissed you, or even called you to spend time with you. You stare absentmindedly at the screen as you see the kissing scene finally happening and your fingertips brush over your lips, just softly, tracing the shape of them.

After a few hours Steve finally returns home, completely sober and cursing under his breath. He sees the light of the living room turned on and some blue light shining on. He walked inside to find you asleep on the couch with the TV still on. He sighed, walking over to turn it off but then his eyes looked at your form, making his face completely fall down.

He bent over your figure to see the dried tears on your cheeks, falling down onto the couch. He looked over to the coffee table to look at what you were watching, getting hold of the case. You watch the same movie every Friday night… And every Saturday night. He rubbed his mouth with a frown to his face as he looked back at your frame. And he always repeats the same action every Friday night and every Saturday night.

He stands up to grab the blanket that’s over the couch to put it over your body, and with tears in his eyes he bends over to press a soft kiss at the top of your head with a quiet whisper that he always repeats and that you never hear, not that you would believe him anyway.

“I’m sorry.”

Monday came way faster than you expected, and the morning was even quicker. Your parents were still away on their business trip, but Steve and you knew they were just out on vacation by themselves. Why have children when you just push them aside?

You take out the lunch bag with your sandwiches in it, and you walk out of the school doors and into the football field which was deserted because it was lunch time, so it always gave you the best opportunity to head behind the bleachers to have some peaceful time for yourself, and that was until you almost dropped your bag as you screamed and flinched when you saw someone already there who snapped his head back at you.

Billy Hargrove.

Your breathing was heavy and your eyes were still trying to focus from the scare but as soon as they did you realized that Billy’s eyes were filled with tears, one or two might have escaped because you could see the glistening trail that they left behind on his cheeks. You were trying to talk to him, but then his eyebrows furrowed together, a tight angry look on his face.

“The fuck you looking at Harrington?” You flinched back at that, annoyance switching inside of you instead of fear. This guy was crying and has the audacity to sound threatening?

“Oh, right, sorry, it’s just seeing Billy Hargrove actually having feelings is a sight.” His eyes snapped wide at your response, surprise crossing his features while he stared at you this time. “Who’s staring now?”

“Oh, right, sorry, it’s just that hearing you fucking talk for once is a sight.” You were taken aback by his response, mimicking yours. You sucked on your right cheek in annoyance as he wiped his cheeks away.

“Well, off you go.” He snaps his head at you, a frown on his features to then letting a smirk spread on his lips.

“I came here first. You go.” You scoff at that, shaking your head at him.

“No, I always come here at lunchtime, it’s my place.”

“Well, that’s lonely as fuck.” You know that. You fucking know that, he doesn’t need to say it to your face, not the heartthrob of the school. Before your heart could turn in pain you nod at him.

“Fine, take it for today.” You turn to finally walk away. Maybe you can eat at the picnic table in the forest? But sometimes the stoner would go there to deal, and you weren’t judging Munson really, you gotta do what you gotta do to survive.

“Wait.” You stopped on your tracks and slowly turned around to see Billy slumping down on the ground, his back resting against a column of the bleachers while he rested his forearms on his bent knees. “You can stay here if you don’t tell anyone you saw me like this.”

Who would you even tell this to? He might be scared that you would tell Steve about it, but Billy seems to not know you don’t actually have a good relationship with your brother, and you have just one casual friend in this school. You look in between the bleachers and towards the woods and then you look back at Billy, giving a sigh and finally sitting down with your legs crossed.

It was silent between you two, almost uncomfortable but not quite. You were eating your sandwich and you took out a bottle of water out of your bag too. You glanced once at him, and he was looking at the distance, just breathing slowly. You wanted to know what happened to him, because he didn’t seem like the guy that would cry easily. He looked at you, raising an eyebrow up at you.

“Why do you eat here?” He asks and you clear your throat, taking a sip of your water.

“Why were you crying?”

“Touché.” You gave a nod in understanding. You weren’t going to talk to him if he wasn’t going to talk to you. You looked inside your bag to grab onto the other sandwich, and you handed it to him. He looked at it with a frown and then back at you.

“If you’re here it means you didn’t eat. Basketball players need food.” You calmly say to him and he looks down at the sandwich, taking it from your hands, and then taking a bite out of it, grimacing in disgust.

“What the fuck is in this?” He looks down into it and you smirk at him, finishing off your own.

“Mustard and pickle sandwich.”

He ate the sandwich anyway. It was nice to eat lunch with someone for once, even if that person was Billy Hargrove and it would be a one time thing in your life… Though, it wasn’t. Billy was back behind the bleachers almost everyday after that. He wasn’t at all that persona that he was with everyone else with you. The cocky insufferable bastard you knew was all a mask, and you could see it when he told you about how Tammy Thompson tried to hide a fart with her cough in class.

“You’re fucking kidding…” You were giggling, covering your mouth as you both sat in front of one another, and the closeness slowly shrinking as two weeks went by of eating lunch with him.

“I am not, she actually thought it was discreet, but I heard it. Not that I said anything about it, but it was a total boner killer.” You raised an eyebrow at that, swallowing your apple that you were having as dessert.

“What, girls can’t fart Hargrove?” He rolls his eyes at you and then raises his hand to flick your forehead, making you wince and rub the skin he left in a red state.

“I didn’t say that. When you trust someone enough to do it in their face, sure. Not in the middle of class, and much less when you are a chair in front of mine.” At that you let out a laugh, throwing your head back. He chuckled and took a swig of his cigarette, blowing the smoke to the side so it wouldn’t hit your face.

“God, I really don’t pay attention to shit like that.” You took another bite of your apple and Billy was still looking at you, clearing his throat, making you look up at him.

“What do you do on Friday nights? I mean, your brother is at every single party but you are nowhere to be found.” He asks you and you feel your cheeks flush slightly at that. You look down at your apple and swallow your bite.

“I often watch movies. Have my own movie nights, sometimes with popcorn, and if I am feeling fancy, S’mores.” You gave him a small smile as you took another sip of water but Billy was still looking at you with a frown to his eyebrows.

“By yourself?” And you suddenly felt embarrassment washing over you. How pathetic were you? He is a guy that has every student in this school eating at the palm of his hand, plans of going out somewhere almost everyday, a date every single night, and you just watched movies and read books for company.

“I– I have to go.” You suddenly blurt out, standing up abruptly to then wipe your jeans from the dirt of the floor. Billy was following suit, doing the same thing, and about to stop you, but you were already walking away. You didn’t need the reminder of how stupid all of your life sounded. You didn’t need it from him. You were always reminded of it by your father, saying that you should be more like his son. Your mother says that at her age she already dated someone and had tons of friends. Steve showing off his new relationship and friends to you, keeping you in the shadows from everyone.

You didn’t need more reminders.

So when you got home, and realized Steve was already out of sight, probably at Heather’s party, you took your time to shower, put on some comfy sweatpants, a white t-shirt and a gray hoodie, and you grabbed your movies and went downstairs. Maybe they will cheer you up from all the stuff that has happened with Billy today. It’s stupid, you both don’t talk to each other all day, yet at lunch you just talk non-stop.

Sweet popcorn was today’s choice and you were already salivating at the smell of it all. Once it was done you put it in a bowl and headed over to the living room, turning the TV on, and putting Pretty in Pink in your VHS. Steve must be getting drunk with his friends by now, dancing to Roxette or something like that. You popped a single popcorn in your mouth and you were about to press play but you were interrupted when glass knocking was heard from the sliding door to the garden.

You jumped up in fear, eyes widened as you quickly turned your head and saw Billy fucking Hargrove outside the doors. You blinked once, twice, three times. Wasn’t he at Heather’s party too? You stood up from your seat, blushing at your attire but he already saw you in it, no time to actually go change. You fixed your glasses at the bridge of your nose as you walked towards the doors to finally unlock them and open a side for him.

“What the fuck are you doing here Billy!” You almost screamed at him, but he raised his hands up in a surrender mode and chuckled at you.

“By that yelling I am assuming your parents are still gone. Let me in, I’m fucking freezing.” He walks past you and you scoff at the nerve of this man. You close the door and you see him looking around with his hands inside his black leather jacket. Your eyes trailed downwards for a second, taking in how tight his pants were, but you snapped out of it, walking around him so that you were facing him.

“What are you doing here?” You ask again and he simply shrugs, still looking all around your house.

“Party was lame as shit, and you said there was a movie night here tonight. That seemed far more interesting than Tommy trying to do a keg stand and falling onto it, breaking his nose.” He walks to the couch, sitting down on it and he immediately grabs the bowl of popcorn from the coffee table. Your mouth hangs open again at this, going to the couch and sitting down next to him.

“You– I don’t need your pity.” You say to him, looking down at your hands as you played with the hem of the sleeves of your hoodie. He chuckles at that and shakes his head.

“Sweetheart, I don’t pity anyone. The party was really fucking boring.” He takes a popcorn in his mouth and he hums at the sweetness. You raise an eyebrow to look at him. You never thought Billy Hargrove would be on the sweet side of stuff. “So, what are we watching?”

A smirk formed on your lips. He was gonna fucking hate it, that’s what he gets for barging in your house.

Yet–

“I fucking hated Duckie.” You were wide eyed at him. He had paid complete attention to the movie, even giving small commentary that he really liked the fact that the girl stood up for herself. He turns to look at you, a frown coming to his eyebrows. “What?”

“I just… I didn’t think you like this genre of movies.” You reply to him, a little bit nervous for some reason and he smiles at you and then looks back at the screen.

“I never watched one of these. They have a lot of plot, and they’re interesting.” Your eyes sparkled in excitement and you grabbed his shoulder, which made him look at you alarmingly.

“You’re in for a ride.”

Billy came back again the next day, taking the chance that Steve was out at Nancy’s for the night. He then sneaked into your room while Steve slept and you played Grease on your small TV and VHS that were on top of your dresser. He actually enjoyed it, but despised it because it was a musical. The next time, he actually came through the front door, and you both finally watched Sixteen Candles together. Now, Saturday Night, Steve was at Nancy’s for a family dinner and Billy was taking out two beers from the six pack he came with.

“I don’t drink…” You say to him and he raises an eyebrow up at you.

“Daily or weekly, but you have tried alcohol. One beer is not going to kill you Sweetheart.” You nodded at that and you grabbed onto the can, sitting back down on the couch. You opened it as Billy walked towards you and plopped down with a huff, already taking a swig out of his can. You grimaced at yours and you took a tentative sip, lowering the can to look at him, completely disgusted by the taste and he simply threw his head back in laughter.

“Disgusting.” You say to him and he shrugs at you, sending a smile your way.

“It’s an acquired taste baby, you just keep drinking it, if you feel fuzzy you can leave it.” You felt your heart accelerate at him, feeling the butterflies exploding in your stomach. You didn’t know when your relationship with Billy took a turn for the better, but he actually sends a smile your way this time when walking down the halls, he sometimes greets you when you pass by him in the hallways, like he is not making it seem like he doesn’t know you.

So it was hard not to fall for him. It was undeniable at this point, and even if he was strong and mean, and an ultimate bully to everyone else, he comes here to your house, watches romantic comedies with you, eats popcorn with you, and you two talk about nonsense all evening. Nobody knows about this, and you’re happy to have this secret between the two of you. You can live in the fantasy a little bit longer.

“What did you bring?” You look at the cassette he got and you look at the front of it. You grimaced again and showed it to him. “The terminator?”

“Classic sweetheart, it’s an action movie, you gotta expand your movie knowledge a bit.” You didn’t want to complain, it was the first time Billy suggested to watch something he likes, and in reality you were interested in knowing it, and hopefully like it the way he does.

News flash, you didn’t like it.

“Why are there so many guns?! It's unnecessary!” You complain, your beer gone and you do feel a little fuzzy but not too much. You just felt giddy. He laughed at your side and shook his head as he drank his second can.

“That’s what action movies are, baby, they are irrational, little to nothing of plot, and shooting everywhere.” He says and you sigh at that, shaking your head. The room filled with silence as Billy looked forward, his smile slowly disappearing. “You know why I come here often?”

You straightened at that, blinked with confusion as you turned to look at him. You frowned when you saw how serious he got, just out of nowhere, and your belly turned for him, not in a romantic way, but more of a worry kind of nervousness.

“Because parties now bore you?” You ask him and he gives you one chuckle and then shakes his head, resting it on the backrest of the couch, looking at the ceiling.

“You help me distract myself.” He took a deep breath in as you kept looking at him and you knew it was something he was having a hard time talking about. “The day you saw me crying… I was actually afraid.”

“What?”

“My father… Let’s just say he has– a rough hand. Any slip up I make, I just get a punch out of it… I’m just so angry all the time, so unlike my fucking self and who I actually am when I am at school. I just let out my anger towards people, because I cannot take it out on my own father.” You could see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, and you knew he was trying to choke back tears as he talked. Your heart just knotted at seeing him like this, feeling helpless, not knowing what to actually tell him.

“Billy–”

“And you… I tried to be mean to you… And you actually had the guts that no one had at this school yet. Talk back to me.” His head turned to finally look at you again and your eyes burned at his confession. “I couldn’t be mean to you… With you I can— I can be calm, watch a movie, talk about how creepy that Creel house is and how we should sabotage it– I mean, the only thing I talk with the people from school? Chicks, sex, cars, alcohol.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on your lips, turning your whole body to face him, your legs coming to rest on top of the couch too, bending them and resting your side on the backrest.

“Well, I am glad I could help in some way… My house is always open for you Billy.” His eyes were just staring into yours now, the only thing being heard in the room were your breaths, until he finally talked.

“Can I kiss you?”

What?

There is no possible way you heard that from him. This is a dream, it has to be a dream. There is no way Billy Hargrove, your now friend, your crush, the guy you like has asked to actually kiss you. This only happens in movies, in books, and it never happens in real life, at least, not to you.

“W-Why would you want to kiss me?” And Billy’s features turned into saddened ones at your words. Don’t you realize how beautiful you are? He straightened up on the couch, his body turning to face you as well as both of your hearts jumped out of your chest.

“Why wouldn’t I want to kiss you?” was his short answer. Your belly turned in pure nervousness now as your body grew a cold sweat. You never kissed anyone, and Billy seemed to know how to do it, and you were just too inexperienced. A flush came over all of your body as you fixed the glasses on the bridge of your nose and you looked down to avoid his gaze.

“I– I never–” You gulped, not being able to finish the phrase from how stupid it sounded. A warm hand was pressed on your cheek, making you lift your head up to look at him again, and you didn’t realize how close he got to you, his blue eyes staring into yours.

“I ask you again… Can I kiss you?” And you finally give him a nod. You weren’t going to miss this chance, not for one second. He still wants to kiss you despite you not knowing what you were getting yourself into. He smiled at you and grabbed onto your glasses, pulling them off your face and setting them on the coffee table. “They were just going to get in the way.”

You took a shaky breath in, his hand still on your cheek as he slowly leaned down towards you. You closed your eyes and his remained open to remember your features as he finally does what he has been wanting to do for the past weeks. At first it was a simple attraction of course, but he knew it was more than that, and he was scared as shit about it… But he never wanted someone as much as he’s been wanting you.

His lips connected with yours in a soft peck, brief, and you let a breath go out of your lips, only for another peck to land. Then another, then another that lingered there a bit more, and then the next one he just stayed there, and suddenly started moving his lips, guiding you as your heartbeat made you deaf in your ears. How do people do this and not faint at the spot?

The lip smacking was heard in the room as your hands finally were brave enough to travel, one scanning his bicep, the other one moving towards the back of his neck, feeling his skin under your fingertips. His free hand landed on your waist, not pressing too hard so that you know that he is being mindful of you. At this point, Billy would already be inside someone, satisfying his needs, but with you… He wasn’t going to do that, at least not now, not yet, and that is if you let him.

He wants to take care of you.

He pulled away for a second, his lips touching yours still as your breathing mixed with one another’s in soft pants. You were feeling as if you were burning all over, not knowing what was happening with you. You never felt like this before, and maybe it has to do with the fact that not only was Billy good looking, but you also feel more than just friendship for him.

“You okay?” You nod frantically at him, wanting more, giving him a peck on the lips making him chuckle in a low tone. “Sorry baby, but I need more.”

He suddenly pushed you back on the couch, crawling over you and you didn’t even think, you just wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and he kept his bottom half away from yours, even if it pained him on his thighs from the strength he was doing to keep himself up. His lips connected with yours again, rougher this time, more desperate, the kiss suddenly turning into a very heated one as he suddenly licks your bottom lip a few times.

The butterflies in your belly explode as you open your mouth and his tongue finally slides in. You gasp at the feeling, your hands finding his biceps through his blouse, and you felt his chain hitting your neck at every movement. One hand was still gripping on your waist, while the other remained at your nape, pulling you deeper into the kiss.

You really can’t believe this is happening, not to you, not with Billy, it doesn’t make sense that he looked your way, it doesn’t make sense that he actually wants to kiss you, not when he has Heather on his tail all the time, or Carol even if she is dating Tommy. Or Janet. You always hear them talking about him in the bathroom, always planning their move on him, and this feels you with a sense of power, with a sense of accomplishment and pride in yourself.

Your hands ran through his hair and he groaned into the kiss, and that ignited so many things inside of you that you never felt in your life, and you wanted to hear more of it. Billy was trying his best to keep himself in a hovering position with you, but he was finding it harder and harder to do so. He can’t go on, at least not today when it was your first kiss. He didn’t want to scare you, even if your urges were the same as his, because he could feel your need to pull him even closer.

The door suddenly clicked and both of your eyes snapped wide open, pulling away, looking at one another, panting heavily. Best scenario, it's your parents, and they would be thrilled that you actually, and finally, have someone over at your house… Now, worst case scenario–

“What the ACTUAL FUCK?!” You both sat up on the couch to look over at Steve, who was standing there in the living room, wide eyed, and his face reddened bit by bit. Shit.

“Steve–” You started talking but he raised his hand at you, to then point a finger at Billy.

“Get the fuck off my sister.” You wanted to roll your eyes at this, because why is he acting all protective now? You finally got some action in your fucking life and he wants to take it away from you.

“I don’t think she wants me to leave.” Billy dares to say, glaring at your brother who took a look at the coffee table, seeing the cans of beer. His mind started racing, and Billy followed his gaze, his mouth opening to talk but Steve was running up the stairs already. Your eyes widened and you pushed Billy off, standing up quickly and urging him to do the same.

“You have to leave!” You were trying to push Billy towards the front door but his feet were still planted against the floor with a frown to his face, and your head snapped to the stairs to see Steve running back down with his baseball bat in his hands. Billy’s eyes widen when Steve starts to approach him with a swinging motion.

“Taking fucking advantage of my sister is something I won’t take from you Hargrove, so get the fuck out of my house before I crush your skull in!”

“Shit, Harrington– Fucking listen for a second–” Steve’s baseball bat hits the backrest of the couch, and you could see the dent of the wooden under it that he created. Billy ripped himself off you and gave you a look as if asking if you were okay.

“I’ll talk to him, you go.” You tell him and he gulps, looking back at Steve with a threatening look on his face which Steve only scoffed at.

“I’ll talk to you later.” Billy says with a small squeeze to your hand as he walks out of the house, passing by Steve. Your brother follows him to the front door and he doesn’t walk back inside until Billy drives away with his Camaro. After the roaring engine can be heard in the distance, Steve slams the door shut, throwing the bat at the floor and stomping back into the living room where you were standing there with a glare on your eyes as if you were about to kill him.

“When I saw his fucking car out in front of the house I thought it was a stupid coincidence, and I come in here to see you about to have sex with the sluttiest man in the goddamn school! What are you thinking!?” You frown in anger at that, stepping towards him.

“I am his friend! I wasn’t going to have sex with him, and he wasn’t taking fucking advantage of me! I drank ONE beer, ONE!” You yell back at him and he fake laughs as he runs his hand over his face.

“The first time you have a guy in this house, and it is Billy FUCKING Hargrove. The one guy that I am fighting with for Captain at our basketball team, the one guy that gives me the hardest fucking time of my life at the moment, and you want me to just accept that he wants to be with you because he WANTS TO?” Your chest hurt at those words, your own coming out in soft stutters at Steve’s blind rage.

“He even asked me if I wanted to, and I said yes–”

“God, you cannot be this fucking stupid! He hates me, makes my life a living hell, and you seriously think that he is a nice guy!? You really think there is no ulterior motive!?” He yelled at you and his words were stabbing you in every part of your body, your head already spinning from how harsh he was being with you.

“Why? Is it impossible that he actually wants to be with me?” You try to say loudly at him, even if your fingers start to feel numb. He scoffed at that, looking at you.

“Yes, and I don’t think you are dumb enough to not see that.” He was referring to so many other things, and it was regarding Billy’s persona, in Billy’s actions, in his rivalry with him… And when he saw your tear rolling down your face, his anger evaporated as if water was being thrown at him.

“Okay…” Was your defeated response. You turned around to retrieve your glasses from your coffee table and Steve winced, clenching his eyes tightly together as pain rushed through his body.

“That wasn’t what I meant– Hey, listen to me, I really didn’t mean it to sound like that–” But you weren’t listening, putting the cassettes back into their cases and turning off the TV. You grabbed them and walked past him, going up into your room. Steve stood there, knowing he hurt you once again, not knowing what to do but run a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath as he started pacing back and forth.

He didn’t mean it to sound like no guy would want you, he didn’t mean it at all like that, yet the words coming out of his mouth betrayed him, completely. He doesn’t know how to make it up to you, because if he had given you the chance to go to the parties with him when you asked in your freshman year, many times, and told you yes instead of no, you would have more experiences, you might even have friends. If only he had let you come out of your room at his own parties when you asked him, almost begged him to let you participate, but he declined each time. Then in your sophomore year, you didn’t ask anymore, just accepted that he wasn’t going to tell you anymore about them, and you automatically locked the door whenever he hosted a party.

This year, he tried to invite you, many times. You always declined. You didn’t even want to eat dinner with him, and he knows you want to leave the house as soon as possible thanks to him. Even with your parents. For the past two years he had been so blind because of his father’s approval and the one of all the students in Hawkins High that he didn’t notice how your parents didn’t ask you stuff at dinner. All questions were always directed to him. He noticed this year, and he tried to tell them you had nailed your exams, and the only thing you got from your father was ‘As she should.’

He was the cause of who you were now. Not at all the bubbly and animated girl that asked him to raise her up like an airplane in their backyard, not at all the small girl that put makeup on him pretending she was a stylist, not at all the middle school girl that got excited to see him whenever she got home from school to tell him about what she learned that day.

He walked up the stairs and raised his hand to knock on your door, only to hear soft sobs on the other side, muffled. He wonders if you had also cried when he denied you all those times. He doesn’t know how to even make it up to you. He doesn’t know if he even can.

So the next day, when you didn’t come out of your room, he let you have your alone time. Now on Monday he tried knocking on your door, only to receive the notice that you felt sick. He tried walking in but your door was completely locked. His eyebrows twitched and his mind had come up with a plan. A plan he will terribly hate. A plan that might end up badly for him. But it’s what he deserves for what he did to you.

Billy looked everywhere for you, and even asked Barbara Holland where you could be. She told him that she hadn’t seen her at Science that day either, so his best guess was that you had skipped school. His jaw clenched when he asked other people about you and some of them didn’t even know what you looked like. He waited for the bell to ring, and he was going to tumble Steve down if he had to in order to see you. He didn’t care.

But when he walked out of the school doors to rush to his Camaro, he was surprised to see Steve Harrington sitting on his trunk with his arms crossed. Billy’s eyes hardened at the sight, walking towards him, tilting his head in question at the brown haired boy who was looking at Billy with a mix of emotions behind his eyes.

“Harrington. Get off my fucking car.” He says and Steve gulps as he looks to the side.

“I fucked up.” At that Billy’s eyebrows turned into a frown, but his fists started clenching as Steve kept talking, telling him everything, everything he did to you, and what he had said to you that night when Billy left.

While this was happening, you were combing your hair after the shower you took while sitting on your bed. You had taken a shower because you were greasy from yesterday already, and you really didn't want to get up, but you didn’t have a choice. Ever since Steve said that, you didn’t have the guts to actually call Billy because at some far away place in your mind, it made sense.

You were invisible, and suddenly you were noticed? It doesn’t sound real.

So maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it really was to get into your pants to mess with your brother, and that was honestly the most reasonable explanation for it. You frowned when you heard the door open downstairs, your door was left open so you could hear some drawers being open, to then hear steps coming up the stairs. Your eyes widened when you saw Steve slamming himself against the door frame of your room.

His eye was completely inflamed from a punch received to the face, his nose was bleeding and he was holding some ice covered in a rug to soak the blood in it. From what you could see, his lip was busted as well and his breathing was coming out of his mouth, almost in a pant.

“Steve, what happened?” Even in your hatred for him, seeing him this way made your heart fill with worry, pushing all of the other feelings aside. You were about to rise from the bed until Steve raised his hand up at you.

“I deserved it.” He looked towards the hallway and your eyes widened when you saw Billy coming into view, a pack of frozen peas on his right hand, his eyes glaring at Steve as he passed by him and into your room. His eyes turned to yours and you couldn’t help but look up at him, completely stunned. Steve groans and closes the door for you two as he heads downstairs.

“What… Did you…?” You stutter as you sit back on your bed, seeing Billy’s injured hand as he sat on your bed too, nodding as he looked at you.

“I sure as hell did. Fucker deserved it. He told me everything, from the very beginning, and also what he said to you on Saturday night right after I left.” You feel your face flush with embarrassment and you look down at your hands again. You are not understanding what is going on, nor why Steve would go and tell your life story to Billy. “Though I have to say… Your brother does care for you.” You scoff at that.

“Right. Like he cared for me the past two years.” You reply with venom in your voice and you feel Billy scoot closer to you.

“He knows. He knows what he did to you. Your freshman year was the punch on the eye, your sophomore year was on his lip… And what he said on Saturday was the one on the nose.” He lets out a chuckle and you feel mixed emotions to that. You were happy that he defended your honor, but Steve was still your brother and you didn’t want physical harm to come to him.

“Don’t punch him again… Please.” You slowly looked up at Billy and his blue eyes were already looking at you. Your heart rate picked up the longer he stared at you.

“Do you really believe what he said to you that night?” He asks you, a small worried tone behind his voice. You feel yourself gulp and you look away in embarrassment or nervousness, you no longer know.

“I– After years of feeling this way, it was a very possible scenario.” You say to him in a low voice, your fingers playing with each other. You see him put the bag of peas away, and his hands look for yours. You look down to see his right hand completely bruised up, some skin completely chipped off on his knuckles. You gasp at that and his hold gets stronger on you, making you look up at him. He was closer now, making your breathing get stuck in your throat.

“How can I prove to you that I want you? How can I prove to you that I like you, that I like you very much that I drive myself insane with this fucking feeling, because god knows I am not good with relationships…” For the first time you see a blush come to his cheeks, and his gaze looks down at your connected hands, like how you do when you get nervous. “But I wanna try that with you.”

Your heart leapt out of your mouth almost, not truly believing what was happening, but the bruised knuckles made it more real, the blush on his cheeks made you realize it was no dream at all. This man in front of you wants you, despite it all, and you both have so many broken pieces to pick up inside one another, but you figure that you can help each other. You can mend his heart back, as he can mend yours.

“I think… The first step would be a date…” You say to him almost in a whisper and he chuckles as he looks up at you. He squints slightly at that as if in thought as your smile grows on your face while looking at him.

“I have an idea for it. I think they are showcasing the new Rambo movie.” He says to you with a smirk to his face and your mouth fell open at that, shaking your head.

“I am not watching an action movie on our first date!” He chuckles at that, his face coming closer to yours slowly, and you feel magnetized to him as you both leaned into one another.

“Oh, I bet you prefer the one where the bad boy goes for the intelligent and perfect girl, that genre, right?” You squint at him, pretending to be offended by his words.

“Don’t act like you don’t like those movies Hargrove.” At that he chuckles, his left hand snaking to the back of your neck to pull you closer to him, a soft breath hitting your lips as he talks.

“I might have a thing for romance.” His lips touched yours again, and you smiled through the kiss, your own hands resting on the back of his head to pull him deeper into the kiss, to taste him even better. Your lips moved along with his, taking in eachother’s breaths, bodies coming closer at each second.

“Don’t fuck my sister, I draw the line there. Not today, not with me here.” You both heard Steve’s voice behind the door, making Billy groan in annoyance and pull away from you to glare at the door as the steps could be heard and another door closes down the hallway.

“I am punching him again.” Billy says and you were glaring at the door too.

“My turn.”

A/N: Well shit, I hope you enjoyed. IT TURNED OUT TO BE A ONE SHOT.

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walpu · 11 months ago

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pre-relationship stage with them

characters - Gepard, Aventurine notes- gn!reader, pining, light angst but mostly fluffy, a bit of hurt/comfort. I love blonde preservation men okay. no beta we die like the economy also this was written before 2.1 but I still think I kinda nailed it

Gepard

Poor poor Geppie.

He pines so much. Treats his love for you like a tender flower. Even his feelings for you is something so precious to him, he's happy to simply be in love with a person like yourself.

I feel like this poor man willd try so much to do everything for you without giving away how deeply he cares and how intense his feelings are.

"Aw, lil' Geppie, you care about y/n so much!"

"I- I do not. I mean, of course I do! But- There's nothing surprising about it. After all, it's my duty as a Captain to care about every citizen. And, of course, it's my duty as a friend to care about y/n.

Sure, Gepard. Sure.

He would never say something like this to your face though. After all, he simply can't lie to you.

Oh but how he adores you. His face literally lights up when he sees you, the most gentle smile blooms on his face when he watches you doing even the most trivial task.

Tries to act like his usual self around you but it's pretty evident to everyone that you're his weak spot.

Would gently scold you if you would ever put yourself in danger or break any rules.

If you get seriously hurt, would actually lose his mind. Would blame himself even if the situation has nothing to do with him. Beats himself up, asks for your forgiveness and does his best to help you.

Despite the popular belief that he would prioritize his work over his beloved, I don't think it's true. Sure, he takes his duties seriously, but he would always find time for you. Would make sure to see you at least two times a weak, would answer your texts and calls. If you need him, would certainly be right by your side. Even if it means he would have to work overtime later.

Tease him a bit and he's all red. Doesn't try to stop you though, secretly adores your attention.

Would be oblivious to the fact that you like him back. Like. Really dense about it.

He's just so used to giving, to protecting, he simply doesn't expect anything in return. He has silently accepted the fact that you may never love him back, but he will be there for you regardless of it, no matter what.

Plus, he feels like he may not be the one for you. Like you need someone who doesn't have to constantly put their life in danger, who can always be by your side, who won't break your heart. Because he's painfully aware that each fight may actually be his last. That he may not come back to you.

Speaking of that. He would make sure to say a proper goodbye to you before every battle or expedition. Nothing too sappy or depressing, he doesn't want to make you worry, after all. Would probably tell you to take care of yourself, to sleep well and to eat healthy food lol. He really just wants to make sure that he got to see you before heading straight into the battle.

If you're a Silvermane guard as well, would restrict himself even more, not wanting to use his position or to be pushy. However, would still be worried sick, even more so. Would still talk to you before every battle, asking almost begging you to be careful.

Loves giving you head pats.

Generally the goodest boy. Just make sure to make the first move because otherwise he would be satisfied with just being your loyal puppy.

Aventurine

Good lord.

This man is such a mess.

Be ready for a mindfuck but not because he's manipulative towards you or something like that but because there's so many layers of trauma in him.

You have to be patient with him okay.

I feel like pre-relationship stage would be so confusing to him. He had flings in the past, okay? Short ones, meaningless. Something to distress, to feel another person's touch, to feel some sort of connection, no matter how shallow it is. He knew he uses those people and that those people use him in return. Not once he asked them to be gentle or caring.

But with you it's so different. Doesn't matter if your relationship started sexually and developed into something more or if it was mostly platonic/slow since the beginning. He still feels something. And he's not sure if he likes it.

Sometimes it feels so good to be seen, to be addressed as a person, not just as a tool. But sometimes it scares him. After all, this man hasn't been vulnerable with anyone for a long, long time.

I'm sorry but I feel like he would try to pull away from you a bit after realizing how much you actually mean to him.

Oh but he will crumble if you reach out to him, okay? He simply can't ditch you like that, not when you see him for him and want him for him.

Even if it's scary.

Would slowly relax around you. Don't expect him to open up easily but still, the more time you spend together, the more his cocky mask will slip away.

Will randomly and out of the blue tell you small details about his past. You two may walk down the street together and he will see something that reminds him of Sigonia so he will share this memory with you.

It may be the smallest thing but it means a lot to him that you listen. Even this tiny moments of vulnerability are hard for him.

On the more positive note, he's so fun to be around. Would tease you and cling to you all of the time. If you tease him back, he would pretend to be offended but would actually enjoy the playful banter a lot.

Just don't tease him too much about him becoming more and more clingy with each passing day.

Spoils you rotten. New clothes, jewelry, watches, shoes, anything you may want or need. He still can't quite get rid of this idea that you have to be convenient for someone to be valuable. It's not like he's trying to buy your love but... Maybe subconsciously he does. Once again, be patient. This man is so used to the fact that all of his alliances are build on mutual benefit that it's still hard to accept that you're really here for him.

Spoiler even when he will feel more stable in your relationship and his mindset will turn more healthy, gift giving will still remain one of his love languages.

Just like Gepard, would care greatly about your safety. He may be careless about his own life but never with yours.

Loves, loves, loves physical contact. As I said before, gets very clingy, putting his arm over your shoulder or tugging on your sleeve. If he's feeling down, would crawl to you side and subtly brush his shoulder against yours or lean to your side. He may still have his confident smile but those small gestures show that he wants you to be the one holding him this time.

Invades your personal space a lot actually. Texts you constantly too lmao.

LOVES SILLY NICKNAMES. Would call you his dearest darling in the sweetest voice during the most inappropriate time and then laugh at your reaction. Would settle for something more casual like "baby" when he's not trying to be a pain in the ass. Still tries to play it off as something teasing. Deep down yearns to call you this without having to pretend that this is just a playful banter between two friends.

Oh and he would dance around the topic of dating, throwing hints but never having the courage to ask openly. So good luck with him.

#hsr #honkai star rail #hsr aventurine #aventurine #aventurine x reader #gepard #gepard landau #hsr gepard #gepard x reader #walp's writing

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hyperfixiation-station · 1 month ago

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Cw: OOC and fem-presenting reader, incorrect military stuff

But anyways I just had a lil thought about you, a young, feminine soldier, being offered a spot on the 141. And of course you take it, who wouldn't?

And you show up at base and you meet the team, an they are all welcoming gor the most part. You get settled in, meet and train with them, and form some sort of comradery with them.

And then the rumors start. Not from the 141, no, but from the other teams on base. That you slept your way into your position, that the only reason you were even offered a spot is because Price likes you in bed, stuff like that.

And it hurts, of course, but you don't mind so much because you've got a team of people who trust you and know your skills and are like a family to you. Except, maybe they aren't.

It wasnt your fault the mission went wrong. Or anyone's. There's was no way to know that the supposedly-sunny weather would turn on you. And it's not your fault that Ghist keep trying to push forward, even when visibility was almost than zero. Not you fault that you both got stranded.

It took hours for Price and Soap to find you. Hours of sitting in the cold, harsh winter weather with no real protection. By the time you guys were found, both you and Ghost were nearly frozen.

They got you in the chopper, wrapped you in blankets and gave you hand warmers to tide you over till you could get checked out by medical. Your eyes were closed, your head leaned back, looking like you're sleeping as you listened to Soap and Ghost bicker.

You thinks that's why he said it. He thought you were asleep, thought you wouldn't hear what he really thought of you.

"She's barely a real Soldier and you know it." Soap had spat at Ghost, "She's just Price's little plaything that he wants to feel important. Don't act like she's on the same level as us."

You don't even know what they were arguing about, don't know why that sentence needed to come out of his mouth. But it did. And maybe he meant it, maybe he didn't, but regardless, he still said it.

And what made it worse is that no one responded. There was no defense from Ghost, from Gaz, from Price- well, Price you could excuse cause he was flying the chopper, but everyone else? There was no excuse.

Of course everyone acts confused when they ask why you're upset, why you're giving them the cold shoulder, refusing to talk to them.

And it comes to blows one night, when your transfer request ends up on Prices desk. They corner you, demanding to know why you're leaving.

"Because." You say, "I'm not staying on a team that thinks my only purpose is to be some-some-some...sex toy for its captain, which isn't true, by the way. I've never had sex with anyone in this base, much less in this room."

Price gapes at you, completely floored by the words coming out of your mouth. But everyone else looks sheepish, cheeks flushing as the realize why you've been so frosty recently.

"That's not true." Gaz says finally, "we-"

"Oh puh-lease. Everyone here thinks it. 'A woman, and young one at that, getting into the 141 on her own merit? Preposterous.' But I didn't mind cause I thought..." your voice cracked and you had to take a deep breath before continuing, " I thought my team at least could value me for my skills. Clearly I was wrong."

And thats all I ahve for now folks, sorry for the abrupt ending I don't know even know where this was going and also my hands are shaking for some reason sorry for any errors lol

#cod fanfic #simon ghost riley #cod #ghost fanfiction #call of duty #cod x reader #john soap mactavish #call of duty x reader #call of duty fanfic #gaz fanfic #kyle garrick #captain john price #price fanfiction #john price

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kkanabel · 2 months ago

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co-pilot mischief ✫ both broken ✫ chapter tres ✫ finale

captain curly x teasing!reader

it’s been a month since your epiphany that Captain Curly has a sweet little crush on you, and you’ve been teasing him the entire time. what happens when you push him even closer to the edge? you asked that question, and here we are: Curly has officially broken.

directory/m.list ⇦ previous chapter

words: ~6.1k

t/w: sex, minors dni, overstimulation, fingering, REALLY OVERSTIMULATION, multiple orgasms, curly being a lil shit, so much yucky, gn!reader who wears a bra, no specific genitalia mentioned for reader (if i fucked up & did somewhere, pls lmk), any other things i should mention?

a/n: hi. been obsessed with this video game recently—well, especially with Curly (go figure. i like fictional men). i needed to make something self-indulgent bc i just like this man way too much. and because i just want to make a world where none of them have to suffer. enjoy~

~jeremy does not exist in this world~

Planned Shipment Duration: 382 Days Elapsed Transit Time: 342 Days

Since the incident, you’ve noticed Curly’s behavior shift from his usual awkward-but-adorable responses to something else entirely—avoidance. Every conversation with him feels clipped, every interaction rushed. This avoidance comes to a head when you have to discuss the ship's fuel readings.

“Captain, can you double-check the fuel calibration?” you ask, stepping into the cockpit with a tablet in hand.

Curly is already seated at the console, his back stiffening at the sound of your voice. “It’s fine,” he mutters without looking up, his fingers flying over the controls.

You narrow your eyes. “Fine? It’s been showing inconsistencies for two days now. Can we be sure it won’t cause an issue later?”

He exhales sharply through his nose, his jaw tightening. “I’ll… take care of it.” Still, he doesn’t glance at you, his gaze fixed on the screen as if the fuel levels are the most riveting thing he’s ever seen.

You step closer, placing the tablet on the console in front of him. “It’d be quicker if we checked it together,” you say, deliberately leaning over just slightly to try and catch his eyes.

But he shifts, pulling back as if your proximity physically burns. “I’ve got it,” he says tersely, still avoiding you.

The clipped tone stings more than you expect. You hesitate, studying him. His hands grip the edge of the console, the veins in his forearms standing out as though he’s using every ounce of willpower to keep his composure. He looks tired—no, exhausted—but there’s something else in his expression, something tight and defensive.

You pull back, watching him with a frown. There’s an ache in your chest you weren’t prepared for—a pang of guilt mixed with frustration. You liked teasing him, pushing his buttons just enough to see the cracks in his armor, but this? This feels different. It’s like he’s shut a door between the two of you, and you can’t help but wonder if you pushed too far.

You bite your lip, torn. Was it the water incident? The shirt? Or maybe it’s been everything—the touches, the flirtation, the unspoken tension you’ve been toying with for weeks. Whatever it is, the wall he’s built feels higher than before, and it leaves you restless, your stomach knotting with something that feels a lot like regret.

That night, sleep refuses to come. You lie in your bunk, staring at the dim ceiling of your cabin, your mind replaying every moment from the cockpit earlier. His stiffness, his avoidance, the way he couldn’t even look at you—it all swirls together, making your chest feel heavy.

Was he angry with you? Embarrassed? Or worse—had you made him so uncomfortable that he didn’t want to be around you anymore? The thought makes your throat tighten, and you sit up, running a hand through your hair in frustration.

The hum of the ship’s engines fills the silence of your cabin, steady and soothing, but it does little to calm the turmoil in your chest. You’ve been lying there for hours, staring at the ceiling, your blanket pushed to the side as your mind cycles endlessly.

You can’t stop thinking about him.

The look on Curly’s face earlier had been… different. It wasn’t just the usual exasperation you’d grown fond of teasing out of him. It was heavier, like he was carrying something you couldn’t quite name, something you weren’t sure you should have pulled at.

You close your eyes and groan quietly into the darkness, guilt and frustration twisting in equal measure. Sure, it’s fun to watch him squirm, to push his buttons just enough to see the cracks in that carefully constructed exterior. But you may have gone too far—even if the water spilling on your shirt was a complete accident. His jaw had set so tightly, his words clipped in a way that left no room for your usual playful retorts.

The memory sits heavy in your chest now, pressing down like a weight.

You roll over for the hundredth time, but the ache of regret and the nagging spark of curiosity keep you pinned wide awake. It’s not just the teasing, is it? Not really. It’s the way his silence speaks louder than his words, the way he looks at you like he’s bracing himself to lose something he doesn’t even have yet

You sigh, sitting up and running a hand through your hair. You know you should leave it alone, let him come to you when he’s ready, but patience has never been your strong suit.

Sliding out of the bunk, you glance at the reflection of your sleepwear in the metal panel across the room. The skimpy fabric makes you hesitate, but only for a moment. If you’re honest with yourself, part of you still wants to provoke him. But another part—the part twisting in your gut—just wants to be able to speak to him normally again.

The ship feels colder at night, the air biting against your bare skin as you make your way down the narrow corridor. The faint glow spilling from the cockpit confirms your suspicion: he’s there, just as you expected.

You pause in the doorway, your heart beating harder than you’d like. He hasn’t noticed you yet. His head is bowed, his fingers raking through his messy blond hair as he leans over the console. He looks… defeated. The sight sends a pang through you, sharp and unwelcome.

Taking a breath, you step inside, keeping your voice soft as you speak. “Couldn’t sleep.”

He straightens abruptly, his shoulders stiffening as his chair creaks under the sudden movement. His eyes meet yours for a moment before flicking downward and darting back up, his jaw clenching. You catch the faintest flush across his cheeks, but his expression is unreadable.

“What are you doing here?” His tone is flat, but there’s a strain beneath it, like he’s barely holding himself together.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You try to smile, but it falters. Stepping closer, you cross your arms, suddenly feeling more self-conscious than you expected. “I—” You stop, unsure of how to begin. “I just… I wanted to check on you.”

His brows furrow, suspicion flickering across his face. “Check on me?”

“Yeah.” You force a small laugh, but it sounds hollow even to your own ears. “You seemed… off earlier.” You hesitate, glancing at the console to avoid his gaze.

The silence that follows feels heavier than when the ship’s gravity went haywire and pushed down on you all. You risk a glance at him, only to find him watching you with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. His hands grip the armrests of his chair like they’re the only thing anchoring him, his knuckles pale.

“It’s fine,” he says finally, his voice tight, controlled. Too controlled. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

The way he says it makes something inside you crack. You know that tone, the one he uses to push people away, to keep himself locked behind walls you’ve only just started to glimpse behind. And it hurts.

“Curly…” You step closer. “That’s not what I—”

“Don’t,” he cuts you off, his voice sharper now, his eyes flashing with something you can’t quite name.

But you don’t back down. Not this time.

“Don’t what?” you challenge, leaning closer to him. You keep your voice soft, almost hesitant, but there’s no mistaking the edge behind it. “Don’t worry about you? Don’t care?”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think he might not answer. He just stares at you, his stormy blue eyes locked on yours, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he finally says, but there’s no conviction in the words. They’re a shield, flimsy and cracking.

You tilt your head, your voice dropping lower. “Why not?”

“Because…” He looks away, running a hand down his face, and you see the way his fingers tremble. When his gaze snaps back to yours, there’s fire in it, raw and unfiltered. “Because I can’t keep doing this, alright? I can’t—”

He stops himself, his voice breaking on the last word, and your heart stumbles in your chest.

“Can’t what?” you press, taking another step closer, your bare feet brushing against the cool floor. Your voice softens, and this time there’s no teasing, no game. “Curly, just tell me.”

He lets out a frustrated sound, somewhere between a growl and a groan, and rises abruptly from his chair. The suddenness of it makes you flinch, but you hold your ground.

“You don’t get it, do you?” His voice is louder now, but it’s not anger—it’s desperation, raw and bleeding. “You waltz in here in your—” His eyes flick down to your barely-there pajamas before snapping back up, his expression torn. “—your… whatever that is, and you look at me like that, and you think it’s funny, don’t you? Messing with me, pushing me, like it’s all some game!”

You blink, stunned by the outpouring of words. “I—”

“No,” he cuts you off, his voice cracking. “You don’t get to talk right now. Do you know how hard I’ve been trying? Trying to keep this… whatever it is… locked down? To keep things professional, to not…” He trails off, shaking his head like he’s trying to dislodge the thought.

“To not what?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“To not ruin everything!” he bursts out, and the words hang in the air between you, heavy and unrelenting. “Do you have any idea what it’s like, waking up every damn day and seeing you, knowing I can’t—shouldn’t—feel this way?”

His chest heaves, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He’s closer now, the space between you shrinking with every ragged breath.

He leans in closer, his forehead nearly brushing yours, and you can see the tension in his jaw, the flicker of hesitation before he barrels on. “Do you know what it’s like to sit next to you every day, to have you so close and know I can’t touch you? Can’t tell you?” His laugh is bitter, almost self-deprecating. “God, I can’t even think straight when you’re around. You’ve got me walking into walls, screwing up flight routes, forgetting my own bloody name half the time.”

“Curly…” You reach out, but he grabs your wrist before you can touch him, his grip firm but not painful.

“Don’t,” he says again, but this time it’s a plea, his voice breaking. His gaze locks on yours, his eyes glassy with an emotion you’ve never seen from him before.

And then, before you can say anything, he moves.

In one swift motion, he pushes you back against the console, his hands braced on either side of you, caging you in. His face is inches from yours, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him, the unsteady rhythm of his breath.

“I can’t…” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Your heart pounds so loudly you’re sure he can hear it, but you don’t move, don’t dare to break the fragile moment hanging between you.

“Then don’t,” you murmur, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

His eyes search yours, and for a heartbeat, everything stands still. Then, with a groan that sounds like defeat, he closes the gap, capturing your lips with his in a kiss so fierce it steals the breath from your lungs.

The kiss is not soft or measured, but raw, desperate, and full of everything he’s been holding back for months. His lips crash against yours with an intensity that makes your knees go weak, and you gasp into him, feeling the weight of all his pent-up frustration pouring out into this moment.

His hands, rough and calloused, grip the edges of the console beside your hips like he’s barely holding himself together. You feel the tension in his arms, the way his muscles cord and flex, the sheer power of him caging you in.

And then, suddenly, his hands shift. One moves to your jaw, tilting your face to deepen the kiss, while the other slides down to your hip, pinning you firmly to the console beneath you. The cool surface bites against your skin, grounding you as his fingers wrap around you with just enough force to keep you there without hurting you.

He pulls away for a moment, searching your eyes for any hint of rejection, finding none.

You open your mouth to speak, but he doesn’t give you the chance. His lips crash back down onto yours, more insistent this time, as if he’s trying to erase every teasing word and playful glance you’ve ever thrown his way.

His body presses closer, and you’re keenly aware of every inch of him—the strength in his broad shoulders, the solid weight of his chest against yours, the way his body is being held between your thighs (which you’ve just realized that you wrapped around him), keeping you and him firmly in place. His free hand trails down your side, his touch firm and possessive.

“Curly,” you keen, eyes fogged from the kisses he just gave you.

“Don’t,” he warns, his voice low and rough. “Not unless you’re ready to take responsibility for what you’ve started.”

The words send a shiver through you, and you meet his gaze, your breath catching at the unrestrained emotion in his expression—anger, yes, but also longing, vulnerability, and an aching kind of need that makes your chest tighten.

“I’m not sorry,” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling but steady enough to hold his gaze.

His lips curl into a gentle smile, and he shakes his head, leaning in until his forehead rests against yours. “I expected such,” he murmurs, his voice softer now but no less intense.

And then he kisses you again, slower this time, but just as overwhelming. It’s less about frustration now and more about everything else—the want, the need, the relief of finally letting it out. His hand slides from your hip to thread his fingers through yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as if to soften the moment, to remind you that despite the force of it all, he’s still Curly.

Even then, as he pulls his lips away to trail his kisses down that delicious neck of yours that he’s been fantasizing about for the past couple months, he bucks his hips into yours subconsciously.

His eyes widen at the realization of what he just did, and he’s just about to apologize when he hears your soft groan, your hips grinding back into his.

You’re going to be the end of him.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his mind goes entirely blank while reaching his hands to grab onto the mounds of your chest as he places wet kisses all over your neck.

The sensation makes you gasp—his warm lips suckling all over the crook of your neck, trailing slightly further down as his large, warm hands grasp at you, fingers gliding against the thin fabric over to the tips of your nipples. He teases it over the fabric, each graze sending a jolt down your core as his pants get tighter.

You watch as Curly’s eyes glaze over while looking at the thin fabric of your shirt, watching your nipples peak and harden under his ministrations. One of his hands pulls away from a breast, brushing down your body until he pulls the skimpy fabric of your shorts and your underwear to the side and places his fingers right onto your heat at just the right spot, rubbing at it.

Your gasping, arms tightening around his neck, and your hands gripping at the hair on the base of his neck only serves to spur him on. His eyes are still hazy with a sheen of lust as he brings his fingers to his lips and licks them lasciviously before easing a finger inside your hole, slowly massaging at your walls until he finds your most delicious spot.

When you tense up and you let out another gasp, his tongue darts out to lick at his lips, knowing that he’s found it. As you reach up to capture his lips with yours, he slips another finger in.

As you’re kissing, you let out a choked moan as he only rubs against that little spot more, fingers starting to curl up rougher and faster. His fingers filled you up so well—so thick and long, pressing your insides in all the right places.

When you clench and spasm around his fingers, you expect him to slow down, but his fingers only get faster through your orgasm. You squeak in response, and his eyes are hooded as he finger fucks you into oblivion.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growls against your lips, his voice thick with frustration and something darker. His breath fans hot against your cheek as he pulls back just enough to speak, his eyes blazing as they meet yours. “To push me until I couldn’t take it anymore?”

His face is a storm of emotions, each one fighting for dominance. His jaw is tight, clenched as though he was holding back. His lips are red and slightly swollen from the kiss, a stark contrast against the stubble shadowing his sharp jawline.

But it’s his eyes that leave you breathless—dark and blazing with an intensity that borders on feral. Those blue eyes, turbulent and unyielding, locking onto yours like they’re searching for every answer you’ve ever hidden. It combines with the feeling of his fingers pressing you in the right spot, making you see stars.

“You’ve been playing with fire, haven’t you?” he breathes, his voice rough and biting. His lips curl into something that’s not quite a smile—a shadow of one, edged with frustration and disbelief. “All those looks, those little comments. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

His hand at the console shifts, and he presses a little closer, his body heat seeping into you. “God, do you have any idea what it’s been like? Watching you parade around like that? Laughing, teasing, pretending you don’t notice what you’re doing to me?” His words are a low snarl now, sharp with exasperation and tinged with lust as he drives his fingers deep into you, earning a squeal from your lips.

“Every time I thought I had it under control, you’d pull something new. A touch here. Showing off some skin there.” His free hand slides along your jaw, his thumb brushing deliberately across your cheekbone. His touch is gentle, almost a mockery of the fire behind his words and the intensity behind his fingers. “You really thought I would break eventually, didn’t you?”

His eyes flicker to your lips, and his fingers keep curling and thrusting inside you in a way that makes you squeak. The sound makes his gaze snap back to your eyes, his expression darkening further. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, trying to ground yourself from this onslaught of pleasure.

“Was this the plan all along?” he taunts, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “To push me so far I’d lose control? Or were you just so sure I’d never cross that line?” He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “Well, congratulations. You’ve got me right where you want me.”

He pulls back just far enough to meet your eyes again, his lips curling into a wicked smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “So tell me,” he murmurs, his tone both a challenge and a warning, “what are you going to do now?” Your gummy walls clench on his fingers as he works you undone again—with both his fingers and his words.

“Please,” you keen, voice breathless. “Just fuck me, Captain.”

The use of his title in that pleasure-drenched voice of yours makes him sharply inhale. He leaned back, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Not yet," he says, his voice low and commanding. "You're going to need to be ready for me. Really ready. So, I’m going to take my time." He knew the company regulations like the back of his hand—no personal items, especially not the kind that could be used for pleasure. And he knew you hadn't had anyone else in almost a year.

Your eyes go wide with shock as he speaks, and you realize what he meant. "But I... I've been... stretching," you protested, face heating up at the implication.

Curly's smile grows, and he leans down, his mouth hovering just above yours. "With your fingers?" he asked, his voice filled with amusement. "That's not enough. Not for what I've got in store for you." You look up at him in shock.

"Trust me," he murmurs against your lips. "You'll thank me for it later. Especially when I break you like you tried to break me. I’ll have you begging, you little tease." His words send shivers of excitement up your spine.

With that, he slides his hand back down your body, his fingers slipping into you again. Your muscles are still contracting from the aftershocks of your two climaxes. He pumps his fingers in and out, watching your face contort with pleasure and overstimulation. But he knew he had to prepare you, had to make sure you could take him.

He leans in, whispering in your ear. "You're going to come again," he tells you, his voice a promise. "And then again. And each time, I'm going to make you feel so good that you'll forget your name."

Your eyes close, breath coming in short pants as you moan into his mouth. Curly revels in the feeling and the view of your hips moving in time with his touch.

Curly slides in a third finger, curling them gently, feeling the slickness of your arousal. Your eyes fly open, and you look at him with a mix of shock and need. "Curly," you gasp, your hips bucking against his hand, hole stretching around his fingers. "Please..." He strokes you in a steady rhythm, watching your face contort with pleasure. You bite your lip, trying to be quiet, but the occasional whimper escapes.

He pushes your tiny tank top up, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, suckling it as he continues to play with you. Your hands pull him closer, urging him on. He can feel your body tightening, your legs starting to tremble. He knew you were close.

And then it happened. With a cry, you cum again, your muscles clenching around his fingers. He still doesn’t stop, though, instead curling his fingers deeper inside you, keeping the pressure on your sweet spot. Your orgasm went on and on, your body shaking with pleasure, legs giving out.

As the last of your tremors subside, he pulls his hand away, bringing his fingers to his mouth. He tastes you, watching as your face heats up. "So good," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “I’m going to push you until you can’t take it anymore.”

Without warning, he slams his mouth onto your core, his tongue flicking you rapidly. You scream, hips jerking up. Your nails claw at the console, searching for any kind of purchase before gripping his blonde locks.

Curly feels the warmth of your orgasm wash over his hand and lips, juices coating his fingers and face as he watches you come apart in front of him. He'd never seen anyone so beautiful. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you let out a guttural cry, body arching.

He waits for you to open your eyes, to look at him with the same hunger he feels burning in his gut. When you do, there are tears in the corners of your eyes, and you’re panting. "Please," you beg, voice a whimper. "Please, Curly. I need you inside me." Your vision was already starting to go blurry, and you felt a slight twinge of dizziness from all the mind-numbing orgasms.

His only response is a shit-eating grin and his fingers continuing to work you open. The sound of your wetness fills the cockpit, and he couldn't help but groan. You’re so tight, so perfect. And all his. He watches your face as he works into you, his tongue circling you in time with his fingers curling up and down, thrusting in and out. You’re close, so close to breaking altogether, and he can feel the tension building in your body.

“Curly, please, I-” And then, with a scream, you cum again, gushing wetness all over his hand and face. He pulls away, wiping it from his cheek with a grin.

"See?" he says, his voice filled with pride and eyes filled with darkness. "I told you I'd make you beg for it."

Your chest heaves, breath coming in ragged gasps. You stare up at him, eyes glazed. "Curly," you whisper with a needy voice. "Please... I need you."

He stood up, his cock straining against his pants. "Not yet," he said again, his voice firm. "We have all night."

He reaches down, helping you to your feet. You sway slightly, legs weak from the intense orgasms. He swiftly picks you up and carries you to the Captain’s Quarters. The crew is asleep. The only sounds are the steady hum of the Tulpar's engines and your two footsteps.

Once inside, he places you down onto his bed gently, your legs still shaking. He hovers over you, his eyes dark with hunger. He kissed you again, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting you and your desire. You moan, hands reaching up to tug at his shirt.

He breaks the kiss, pulling his shirt off. Your eyes scrape up and down the sight of his bare chest, his muscles rippling in the dim light. He leans back in, his mouth moving down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and gentle nibbles. You shiver, skin sensitive from the previous orgasms.

Curly slides his hand down to your hole again, his thumb pressing against you as he kisses his way down your body. You gasp, hips rising to meet his touch. He spread open your legs revealing you, all bare and wet. He took a moment to appreciate the view, your swollen hole and the glisten of your arousal—the glisten of your multiple orgasms.

With a groan, he buries his face between your legs, his tongue flicking over you at the perfect spot. You almost scream, the sensation too much. He slides two fingers inside, desperate to continue stretching out your inner muscles.

He licks and sucks, his mouth a symphony of pleasure. You cum again, body bowing off the bed, hands tangling in his hair. He doesn’t let up, his tongue relentless, his fingers curling inside you, pushing you to the edge once more. Your cries grow louder, more frantic, until you’re almost screaming. And then, just as suddenly, you go quiet.

Your eyes roll back in your head, and you go limp beneath him as your body refuses to stop twitching. Curly pulls back, panting, his mouth wet with your essence. He watches your chest heave, your breath coming in ragged gasps. He knows you’re on the edge, just about to shatter into pieces.

He slides his fingers out of you, watching the way you quiver.

He stands, his own desire clear in the bulge in his pants. "You’re doing so good," he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Now you're ready." Curly chuckles as he watches your muscles twitch. “So cute,” he mumbles as he zips his jumpsuit down all the way and pulls his boxers down. It's massive, thick and long, standing erect and flushed with arousal.

You’re still unable to form words, eyes blank as you come down from the onslaught of pleasure. Your eyes flutter open when you feel him getting back onto the bed, chest heaving as you stare up at him. "Curly," you breathe, voice shaky. "I don’t… I don’t know if I can take it anymore."

He leans over you, eyes dark with need. "You can," he says, his voice firm. "You will. And you're the one who begged for it."

Curly lines up his cock with your slick entrance, the tip kissing you lightly. It's hot, and you can feel the pulse of his excitement. His reddened tip is so much larger than what you've felt before, veins standing out. Your eyes widen, looking at the size of him, and you feel your stomach flip.

Slowly, with a look of absolute focus, he starts to push in, watching your face as you bite your lip to keep from screaming. The head of his cock, that angry red tip, breaches your entrance, and you can feel your body stretching around its thickness. He goes so slowly, so carefully, that you can't help but trust him. The veins on his shaft stand out like roads on a map, and they feel like they're carving into you as he slides in inch by inch.

The pressure is intense, but you’re so wet, so ready for him. He slides in deeper, feeling you stretch around him. Your walls cling to him, and he knows he'd never felt anything so amazing. He pauses for a moment, savoring the sensation.

And to his surprise, you cum again, walls tightening around his cock. A keening sound tears from your throat, and you buck your hips against him, trying to push him deeper. He holds you still, watching your face, feeling your walls pulse around him.

It was like nothing he'd ever felt before, a wave of pleasure so intense it almost brought him to his knees. “Fuck,” his eyes squeeze shut, voice hoarse.

But he doesn’t stop. He couldn't. He pushes in further, feeling you tighten even more. You were whining now, a high-pitched sound that seemed to echo through the room. He knows he’s hitting all the right spots, that you were on the edge again. And he was going to make sure you fell over it.

You're so wet, so ready for him, that he's able to ease into you with surprising ease, despite his size. Each time he pushes in, you feel your muscles resisting before giving way, your body adapting to his thickness. Your walls clench around him, trying to get used to the feeling of being so full, so claimed. It's as if every part of you is being rewritten, every nerve ending remapped to accommodate his size.

His thumbs press gently against your pulse points, feeling the rapid thrum of your heartbeat. “You’ve been in my head for months. Twisting me up so bad I can’t tell what’s real anymore. Hell, I can’t even close my eyes without seeing you.” His voice has dropped lower, huskier, the edges roughened by emotion and strain.

The feeling of fullness is intense, almost overwhelming, but it's mixed with an aching need for more. You can feel your body stretching, adjusting to his size, and it's both slightly painful and incredibly arousing. He's so much larger than any toy you've ever used, and the thought of taking all of him sends a fresh wave of desire through you.

You glance up at his form, the dim artificial lights overhead casting a faint, bluish hue across his bare chest. His skin glistens faintly, a sheen of sweat highlighting the sculpted lines of his muscles—the curve of his shoulders, the sharp planes of his chest, and the ripple of his abdomen. Shadows deepen in the grooves between his ribs and along the flex of his arms as he shifts, his every movement purposeful, almost mesmerizing. There’s faint golden hair dusting his chest and trailing down his stomach.

The sight of him makes you coo, “Curly, you’re so perfect.”

His eyes never leave yours, and in them you now see a fierce concentration, a hunger that's been building for a long time. The head of his cock reaches deep into you, and you arch your back, the sensation overwhelming. You're so full you feel like you might burst. But then he pulls out slightly, only to push back in even deeper, and it's as if you've been hit by a bolt of lightning.

With one final, powerful thrust, he's all the way in, and you let out a cry that echoes through the cabin. Your nails dig into his back, your body shaking with the intensity of it all. His cock is so big, so hard, that you feel it in every part of you, filling you up in a way you never knew was possible.

Your hips are moving, rutting against him, urging him deeper.

He starts to move, his hips rocking into yours, his cock sliding in and out of your tight hole. You moan, the feeling so intense that you don’t know if you can handle it. Orgasms roll through you, one after another, each one more powerful than the last. You couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began, they just blended together into a never-ending crescendo of pleasure.

Curly's movements then become more forceful, his thrusts deeper and faster. Each time he fills you, you can feel your inner muscles clench around him, trying to hold onto that delicious feeling of fullness. He groans, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he starts to pick up the pace.

Tears slide down your cheeks as he fucks you, each stroke hitting deeper than the last. Your eyes are now squeezed shut, and all you can see was the bright white light of pure ecstasy. You don’t know if you can take it, don’t know if you could handle his size, his strength. But you don’t want him to stop.

The room fills with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you. It's primal, animalistic, and you can't help but get lost in it—in the feeling of his body pressing into yours, in the heat of his breath against your neck, in the way your orgasms build and crash over you like waves.

Your body starts to shake, your muscles tensing as you feel another climax building. You look up at him, eyes pleading, and he leans down, capturing your mouth in a fierce kiss. It's as if he knows exactly what you need, and he's more than willing to give it to you.

Curly starts to hit that spot inside you with every thrust, the one that makes your toes curl and your vision blur. You moan into his mouth, your hips rising to meet his, desperate for more. Fuck, but you don’t know if you can take it anymore. He's relentless, his cock driving into you, stretching you further and further until you think you'll shatter into a million pieces.

And then, with one final, powerful thrust, you do.

You push him away, just enough for his cock to pop out of you, and you squeal. “‘Curly,” you keen, twitching all over as you release all over yourself, him, and his sheets. His dick twitches as he watches you spasm all over his bed, coating both of you in your cum and slick.

The corners of your eyes sting with tears of pleasure, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Curly’s gaze doesn’t waver, his lips slightly parted as he watches you, his chest rising and falling with his own labored breaths.

“Bloody hell,” he mutters, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, his voice hoarse and rough. Then, without hesitation, he flips you over with a strength that sends your pulse racing all over again. His hands are firm yet careful, a mix of desperation and reverence in the way he touches you.

“You drive me insane,” he growls, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. The weight of his words settles over you, and you know this is far from over. His frustration, his need, his months of pent-up tension—all of it is unraveling here and now, and you’re the one holding the thread.

And with those words, you know it’s going to be a long, unforgettable night. The thought crosses your mind in a brief, hazy moment of clarity: How are you supposed to walk tomorrow? But the question is quickly swept away, drowned in the whirlwind of Curly’s relentless thrusting and the electric heat between you.

Hours later, when the two of you finally collapse into each other, exhausted and sated, there’s a rare, blissful quiet in the air. His arm drapes over you after he cleans you up, heavy and warm, pulling you against his chest. The steady rhythm of his breathing lulls you into a peace you haven’t felt in ages.

For the first time in years, Curly sleeps soundly. No tossing, no turning, no restless hours spent staring at the ceiling. In his dreams, as in reality, you’re there with him. And ever since then, he hasn’t had any insomnia.

And you? You have no regrets.

a/n: the finale~~ let me know what y'all think!

oh yeah.. smut.. neverending smut..

taglist is open! lmk if you want to be on the taglist for just curly/mouthwashing characters or if you want the news on alll my fics.

also might be accepting requests hehe! i can’t guarantee that i can do em, but i’ll accept ideas!

btw. not beta read, please let me know if there are any typos/inconsistencies stay safe & hydrated as always!

(and go to sleep if you’re reading this super late. don’t be a curly. take care of yourself!)

thanks for reading! <3

crossposted on ao3

taglist: @m-carriaga2021, @skyeconch

directory/m.list ⇦ previous chapter

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing smut #mouthwashing game #Captain curly #curly x reader #curly mouthwashing #curly x reader smut #captain curly smut #curly fluff #mouthwashing fluff #anya mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #grant curly #curly smut

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shmalk · 10 months ago

Text

141 is filled with alphas, not a single omega in sight. there are a few betas, but they're either low-ranking or transfers that were never going to last.

like you! (beta!reader) who works at reception and takes calls, scans badges and is the first point of contact for the task force.

none of them know your name, none of them even speak to you - maybe price, when you transfer a call to him, he'll mumble a thank you. or even laswell, when you bring her a coffee.

it's nothing, really, you don't mind.

only, one day, a totally normal friday, you've done the exact same style in your hair you always have, and you're wearing more clothes than you were yesterday.

price wants a coffee, sure- you make it, just the way he likes, and head towards his office. you knock, and wait a few seconds until you hear 'come in.'

the office is silent, it usually is - but this time there's more than just price inside.

they're finishing up just as you enter, soap and gaz sitting in front of the desk whilst ghost leant against the back wall.

"my apologies, captain." your voice isn't exactly quiet - why should it be, you've done nothing wrong, but its still respectful. price just nods as you place the cup down on his desk.

"thanks, that's all." he dismisses everyone in the room, and you wait for the boys to file out before you do, soap and gaz both giving you a cheeky smile.

ghost is the one to hold open the door, standing just adjacent to the doorway with his arm sprawled against it. its a heavy door, and you swallow as you pass him.

"thank you," you all but mumble out as you rush past him - straight into the break room.

you can't help but rant about the situation to your roommate whilst you're packing up your things, your phone tucked between your jaw and shoulder.

"i mean- he held the door open for me and i couldn't even look him in the eye to say thank you!" you stress, throwing your bag into your passenger seat before leaning back against your car. "god, all i wan't right now is a plate of sushi and some boba."

"too bad its pizza night, dweeb."

"thats not fair! i could loose my job, i should be allowed to eat my comfort food when im stressed out."

you stress about it over the whole weekend, and when you return back to work on monday you try to act as casual as possible. of course, you don't see ghost - price doesn't order a coffee, and youre break time comes around quicker than you expected.

you had brought- oh, theres- your favourite sushi, and a boba drink sitting where your food was supposed to be. in somewhat messy hand writing, on a small piece of paper, theres your name.

signed ' s. riley. '

i am a sucker for sweet lil moments like this !!

in my head i think that simon would like a beta, or an alpha, but in this lil snippet (which is CERTAINLY getting turned into a fic) he's big and broad and gets worried when he's with alphas because they can't think straight, he tells them what to do and he does it.

but you? you dont react to his scent or chase him down to get him to court you - so, of fource, he courts you. <3

#john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #shmalk ! ᧔♡᧓ #task force 141 #simon ghost riley #john price #simon riley x reader #alpha!simon riley x beta!reader #beta!reader #alpha!simon riley #alpha!ghost #alpha!ghost x beta!reader

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citricacidprince · 4 months ago

Note

could you draw the courtroom scene with relativity falls? (mabels bubble)

Gladly!!! I’ve already brought up some Stan Weirdmageddon Bubble stuff here, but the equivalent of the Mabel Trial for Stan makes me wanna blow up I just adore it!!

Okay, so first things first, here’s Captain Stan’s design, my precious baby boy <3

Figured it’d be fun to mix some aspects of Grunkle Stan’s Mr. Mystery outfit with a pirate twist, just for fun!

As for the ‘trial’, its more of a argument between two boys who just WONT talk about their issues

Fiddleford, Boyish Dan, and Anjelita are also there, but Stan isn’t mad at them. In fact, he doesn’t even care that they’re breaking the rules by being there, he’s only mad at Ford. He’s mad that Ford was just going to leave him behind and send Stan back to New Jersey by himself while he stayed and studied with their Grunkle Dipper. Leaving Stan all by himself at home. Alone to deal with their father. Alone with no friends. Alone to be the family disappointment.

But no matter how mad he gets at Ford, Stan can’t ever say that he’s hates him, and Stan would give him a million chances to fix things. So, instead of immediately throwing Ford off the deck of his ship, he gives him an ultimatum. A very easy solution to all of this.

All Ford has to do is say that he’s sorry, and Stan would let him go. He won’t leave the bubble because he actually really likes it in there, but he’ll let Ford go.

This.. doesn’t end very well

Stan, absolutely heartbroken, decides to make his brother walk the plank. If he’s dead to Ford, well then Ford is dead to him as well.

However, right before his crew could push Ford into the water, something happened.

You see, when Stan unknowingly gave the rift to Bill he only had one wish. That he’d never be alone again. So when he first appeared in his bubble it was actually completely dark and empty, except for a small light glowing in his hands. It was a little version of Ford. He smiled and laughed just like he did when they were a bit younger, and he said everything Stan wanted to hear.

Very quickly Stan realized he could manipulate the bubble and create anything that he wanted, just like he could back in the Mindscape. So he created what he knew. Glass Shard Beach, New Jerseys. It was full of never ending boardwalks, houses and attractions with silly names, and that beach he loved so much. It didn’t take long after that to realize it was still quite lonely, even with Lil’ Ford (a name he lovingly gave the small version of his brother). However, he didn’t want the town to be full of faceless nobodies or people he actually knew, that’d be weird.

Then he had the genius idea to just fill the town with himself! After all, he never had to worry about himself betraying him or leaving him behind!

Soon the town was overrun with imperfect duplicates of himself and he couldn’t have been any happier.

However, the duplicates were so much like him that it soon made a new problem arise. They started asking about Ford. Like, ‘Where is he?’ ‘Can you make one?’ ‘I miss having him around.’

Stan did have Lil’ Ford hidden under his pirate hat, but he didn’t want to tell the other Stans that he was there. He didn’t know exactly why he kept Lil’ Ford hidden away. Probably a mixture of bitterness and anger still aimed at his real twin brother and a selfishness to keep Lil’ Ford to himself. So he just declared that Fords were banned altogether and left it at that.

This was a problem when right as Stanford was about to pushed off the plank, Lil’ Ford came out from under the Captain’s hat and told Stan to stop all of this.

The two bicker for a moment and some Stans ask who that is, causing Lil’ Ford to happily state that he’s Stanley’s brother, that the two are going to sail the world together, and that he loves Stan very dearly.

This doesn’t go over well with literally any of the Stan on board and it especially doesn’t go over well with Ford

The Stans pull a mutiny and try to kill Stan because they don’t think he should be Captain anymore and one of them should run the town instead.

Hard cut to Boyish Dan, Anjelita, Fiddleford, Ford, and Stan having a high speed boat chase with other Stans and popping the bubble while escaping. (I like to think Stan popped the bubble at the last second with the help of Shanklin <3 )

Stan is NOT happy about having to leave his Weirdmageddon bubble.

“You should have left me in there. I was HAPPY there.”

“Who cares if you were happy, you were living a lie! A sad delusion! You should be happy we pulled you out of there!”

Boyish Dan has it cut in before the two start fighting right then and there

Stan eventually calms down enough to decide that he’s going to save their Grunkle Dipper from Bill, but there is a thick tension between Stan and Ford that last until the huge blow out fight at the Cipher Wheel

A fight that started because Stan wanted Ford to finally say it.

‘I’m Sorry.’

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always-just-red · 4 months ago

Text

A/N: So I threatened a while back to write MC arresting Sylus since he literally won’t shut up about it. Thought this would be a silly fic but it ended up an angst-driven exploration of how his time with MC is probably finite and ill-fated?? Anyway Sylus is too soft for this, I’m sorryyyy (Sy I love you! I would never do this to you! ‘Didn’t it come from your imagination, though?’ Ssshhhh you don’t know what you’re saying!! 🥰)

To Remain Silent

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: Sylus has told you to arrest him one too many times...

Genre: Emotional rollercoaster honestly? Some angst, some comfort (and a lil spice for flavour)

Warnings/Additional tags: gn!reader, vaguely established relationship, gets a little steamy at the end (mostly kissing tbh), artistic licence applied liberally since this would be WAY too risky for MC to actually attempt 😭😭

| Word count: 2.7k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Sylus knows this isn’t real.

You watch him through the glass of his cell, and the subtle tint to it lets you know that he can’t watch you back. He’s sat on the single bench inside, leaning against the far wall, his long legs stretched out before him. His hands are cuffed— tucked away behind his back— but he still looks comfortable. More than comfortable: at ease. At home. Bored.

“You think I can’t feel those pretty little eyes of yours on me?” he mutters, head back, eyes closed. “I’m at your mercy, kitten. Are you really only going to look?”

You tap a button on the glass. “You should start taking this seriously.”

He smiles at the sound of your voice, but his eyes don’t open; there’s still nothing to see. “I’m taking it very seriously, sweetie.”

“I don’t think you are.”

The smile turns even more smug: a confession, all by itself. He sits up and leans forward, like someone who’s found a change of conversation to be interesting. His eyes open— managing to find you, somehow, and— can he see you? No. It’s an educated guess, he’s just selling it with confidence.

Leisurely, he rises from his seat and saunters over to the glass. “Let me see you,” he orders, then bargains: “Please? This is so very—” he toes the division— “one-sided.”

You can’t look him in the eyes, can you? This is hard enough without the windows to your soul baring your heart and your mind to him, like they always do. You should have worn those sunglasses he bought you for that undercover assignment. This is what they’re for, right? Hiding.

With a circular swipe of your finger, the glass before you clears and Sylus meets your gaze.

“Hi,” he teases.

You fold your arms across your chest. “Hey.”

“This is quite some effort you’ve gone to, kitten. And all for me, no less.”

“What effort?” you dismiss plainly. “You practically slapped those handcuffs on yourself.”

It’s not an exaggeration: from the cuffs to the ride here, not a single stage of his arrest has been resisted. The closest he’s gotten to a lack of cooperation was when you’d first restrained and dragged him from his study, where he’d been inclined to point out that the bedroom was the other way.

“Well, I didn’t want to cause a fuss,” he smirks. One of his hands is brought forward, and his handcuffs now hang uselessly from a finger. “Tell me,” he says, letting them swing as he holds your gaze, “what am I to expect now I’ve been so masterfully captured?”

You glance at the restraints, unmoved. “That isn’t for me to decide.”

A door behind you slides open, and— right on time— an altogether more impressive presence joins you before the cell. Sylus glances her up and down as the click of her heeled boots come to a stop; he has never met your captain, but he knows her face.

“You really cashed in all your favours, didn’t you, sweetie?” he observes. He turns to address the woman beside you: “We haven’t been introduced. I’m—”

“I know who you are,” Jenna interrupts, her tone as incorruptible as yours.

Sylus’s arm lifts, resting on the glass above you so he can tower over you, despite the partition. “Is that right?” he purrs absent-mindedly, dropping his head so he can speak into your ear. “Sweetie… I thought you could keep a secret.”

He’s goading you into your usual game, but the stakes don’t interest you. “You were wrong.”

You’re at your own table, dealing your own cards. Does he want to play? You think he might. His lips are curving at the delicious prospect of a challenge. You’ve given him a taste of it. He wants more.

Jenna is studying her clipboard, acting oblivious. She senses the impasse. Asks Sylus: “Do you know why you’re here?”

He huffs impatiently. “Enlighten me.”

“Sylus,” you scold.

Red eyes widen a fraction.

You see it.

Good.

…

Sylus thinks this might be real.

You said his name. His real name: the one with sharp, bloody strings attached. The one on all the posters. The one in your precious Association’s archives, linked to stacks of files and crime scene photos, most of which he isn’t even responsible for.

Sylus. You said: Sylus.

It was worthy of a grand reveal— the sort of plot twist that delivered the suspense of so many thrillers— but here you are, speaking it like it’s nothing. Not a slip of the tongue; not a mistake. And it’s different here. He’s not your Sylus. He’s theirs.

Their murderer. Their monster. Their convenient little scapegoat for everything dark and unholy.

The captain is reading him a list, reeling off every crime— each alleged sin. As if he needs a reminder. As if all the time in the world could ever let him forget. “Needless to say, Mr Sylus,” she summarises, “due to the nature of these crimes, you may prove exempt from our standard procedures. A case like this is… unprecedented. Onychinus has much to answer for. You have much to answer for.”

Sylus hasn’t really been listening; it’s all senseless bureaucracy. “You have the wrong man,” he says, because whatever you’re doing— whatever stunt this is— a confession is sure to derail it. You know that, don’t you? You must be counting on it: holding that guilty breath of yours and hoping he’s smart enough to not be Sylus.

You don’t look worried in the slightest. You must have an awful lot of faith in him.

He studies you, waiting for a small, deliberate smile or a moment of weakness. Give him a sign, don’t give him a sign— it doesn’t matter; he’ll find one. His intentions must be clearer than yours, because you step up to the glass to face him.

Do it, your silence says, even though the rest of you is illegible. You want to look? Look.

His eye could light like a crimson fire— could burn the truth out of you— but it won’t. It’s a promise he made what feels like a lifetime ago, not long after you’d met: Your thoughts and desires are yours to give, not his to take.

Even here. Even now. He’s a man of his word, after all.

Impressed? You smile faintly, but there’s no warmth to it. “Captain,” you speak, your eyes not leaving his, “can you give us a minute? Please?”

“Of course,” the woman answers with a nod.

Sylus does not see her go. He hears it: the retreating rhythm of her shoes. He feels it: it’s just the two of you, alone again. Well, the two of you and that ‘hidden’ camera in the far corner of the room. “Whatever game this is,” he grins good-naturedly, his teeth gritted, “it stops. Now.”

“It’s not a game, Sylus. I told you to take this seriously.”

“What are you doing?” he snaps, and that good-natured grin didn’t last very long.

Your hands land on your hips. “My job.” When he scoffs, you continue: “Did you really think this would end any other way? After everything you’ve done?”

He laughs and it’s deeply sardonic. He’s no saint— to try to convince you he was would be a crime worthy of punishments far worse than this. But you know him. You know the line and what stands on each side of it: everything he’s done, yes, and everything he’s been made to take the fall for.

You wouldn’t do this to him. Would you? “You want to play pretend? Fine,” he hisses. He wants to wrap his Evol around that godforsaken camera and annihilate it. “You caught the big, bad boss of Onychinus— congratulations, sweetie. Sure. Let’s say that’s who I am. A man like that has power, right? So what’s to keep him— me— from escaping? Right now?”

“You’re not going to leave, Sylus. Wanna know why?”

He’s sure you’re going to tell him, and you do:

“Because you’re all talk. All smoke and mirrors. You want to go? Go. But there’s not a single person in this building who wouldn’t give their life to bring you back. Someone will catch up to you eventually, and what then?”

“I’ll have a lot of fun, I imagine.”

“You’ll do nothing,” you correct. “Because those people out there? They’re my friends. My family. You hurt them? You hurt me. Make all the threats you want, Sylus— we both know the truth.”

He towers over you, still, but it’s hard not to shrink at your next words:

“You don’t have it in you.”

Your eyes are sharp: whetted with resentment. Sylus is your reflection— your worthy opponent, always— but he just can’t look at you like that.

There’s a quiet hiss as you slide a finger over the cell’s control panel. White, neon light carves through the glass partition: two vertical lines that bleed upwards, either side of him, before bending to meet each-other. The glass between them shimmers, then fades.

Sylus stands on the precipice of the doorway, cool air crawling past him. He stares up at the camera, then down at you. Your arms have folded again as you watch him— a narrative of apathy.

“How about it, Sylus?” you ask bitterly. “Still think you can outrun fate?”

“No.” Not since it started wearing your face. Fate is you, putting a bullet in his heart, and him, waking up so you can do it over and over again. Maybe this is real. Maybe it isn’t. “What do you want from me?” he entreats softly, because you’ll get it— either way.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you sneer, and your hand shoots out, grasping a fistful of his shirt. You use it to drag him out of the cell, closer, lower, so that his face is mere inches from yours.

“No,” he repeats. “Say it.”

Your eyes burn like pyres: so dangerous, so beautiful, so suited to being the death of him. “I want you—” you begin, as they flit briefly to his lips— “to tell me…”

“What?”

“How you cheat at kitty cards.”

Oh. Oh.

You’re going to be insufferable about this, aren’t you?

Sure enough, you drop his shirt and burst into laughter— irrepressibly you again. The fire in your eyes has simmered down into something warm, safe, and comfortable, and— gods— you’re even crying. You’re doubled over, holding your stomach as though it hurts. You lift a hand to wipe your wet cheek. “Your face,” you get out between gasps, “oh, your face!”

Yours is not the only laughter, but it’s the only laughter Sylus hears.

“We so got you, Skye!” Tara’s vaguely familiar voice resounds from an intercom.

There’s some confusing static with it— more tittering voices— and Sylus suspects he’s found himself the star of your colleagues’ after-work entertainment. He puts his hands on his hips as he looks up at the camera. “Is the whole office—”

“Yeah,” you manage, wiping away another tear. “Figured it would be good for morale. Good practice, too.”

“Practice?”

“Mmhmm,” you confirm with a hum. You’ve apparently gotten a handle on the hilarity of the situation, because you approach him with something close to composure. Meditatively, you smooth down the fabric of his shirt. Straighten his collar. “For when we catch the real Sylus one day.”

He captures your wrists; that’s a lot of tenderness for someone who just tried to give him a heart attack. Maybe he’s a little too rough, because you pout at him in a way that makes him instantly soften his grip.

“You ok, Skye?” you enquire with an ironic smile and an adorable tilt of your head.

His thumbs are feathering over your pulse points, and slowly, he leans in to deliver a message, just for you: “If I say no, will you make it up to me?”

…

Sylus knows this is real.

His mouth is on yours and it’s relentless, desperate; you made him wait for it. How long has he been wanting to trap you against the nearest wall, just like this, so he can kiss you until he forgets just how cold you can be?

He’s been very patient. He didn’t roll his eyes or utter a word of complaint when you’d dragged him to join your colleagues for dinner. It was your victory party, your ‘I made you look like an idiot’ party, but he was his usual, charming self, and your friends all adored him for it. They’d spun him the tale of his ‘arrest’— the planning, the preparation, and your lightbulb moment:

“Hey, guys, have you ever thought about how Skye kinda looks like Sylus?”

Only he could understand how wickedly clever it was. His eyes had sought yours as he listened, lazy, content, and so obviously biding his time. You’d smiled at him. He’d smiled back.

And he’d stayed smiling, even after the party was over and you’d had to walk a slightly-tipsy Tara home. She’d refused a taxi, insisted Sylus escort her— oh, and you could come, too! He’d lent her his arm: humoured every squeeze and chuckled at each remark about the size of it. You’d had to swat her away, in the end.

“I’m just teasing, y’know?” she’d giggled as the three of you arrived at her front door. “Skye knows I’m just teasing. You’re such a sweetheart, Skye. Imagine! You— the leader of Onychinus!”

She’d laughed, much too loud for such a quiet street, and with a less-than-subtle wink, left the two of you alone. Which is how you’d ended up here, in an alley around the back of her building, because it was Sylus’s turn to drag you somewhere.

His attentions have moved lower; there’s a subtle clink as his fingers find the clasp of your shirt collar and he peels it back, exposing your neck. His lips leave yours, trailing down, down— past the line of your jaw and over the soft, vulnerable column of your throat. You gasp as he brushes over a sensitive spot, and you could swear you feel him smile.

He’s always been passionate, but this is a different fire, fuelled by something you can’t ignore, no matter how much you want to:

Relief.

“Sy,” you murmur breathlessly, your hand in his hair, tugging gently. “Sy, stop.”

“Mmm?” he acquiesces, voice sinfully low as the cold evening air takes his place kissing your neck. His eyes shine like blood spilt in the dead of night— lingering on you. He looks drunk.

You lift a hand to cup his face and run your thumb over his cheek. “I’ll never let anything happen to you, Sylus. You know that, right?”

Those dark eyes find clarity with your words, full of apprehension for just how naive you can be. The future will turn on you just as quickly as a wild animal someone boasts about having tamed, and aren’t you foolish, thinking you can control something like that?

Besides, that’s his job.

“I know,” he says like he’s supposed to— ever the martyr, following the script. He goes to nuzzle into you again, but your hand is still tight in his hair and he groans as you use it to pull him back.

“I mean it,” you reassert, forcing him to look at you. You don’t care that it’s ridiculous. You don’t care that fate is so hot on your heels that you have to keep running. You’re tired. He’s even more tired.

Isn’t it nice to stop and catch your breath?

Pretend you have time: His gaze is full of faith and oh, the world is going to enjoy punishing the two of you. “I know,” he insists, because this is the second time you’ve fooled him tonight. You feel his hand on your face and you let him kiss you— again, then again— so achingly slow, so arrogant.

The world can wait; he wants to punish you first.

“Do you really want to know—” he distracts as he finds that sensitive spot on your neck again— “how I cheat at kitty cards?”

The pad of his finger is chasing the path of his mouth; it tickles. You whine: “Tell me later, Sy.”

“Ok,” he breathes against you.

Later. There’ll be a later.

Won’t there?

#🖋rach is actually writing #sylus x reader #sylus #love and deepspace #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #qin che #sylus x mc #sylus x you #lads x reader #lads #lnds #l&ds

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