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raysreads · 3 years

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Teen Wolf Character Scents

Okay this might sound weird, but I’ve been reading a lot of Teen Wolf fic lately and it always puts a heavy emphasis on what the character smells like. Because...werewolf senses and everyone has a natural scent. I personally love this so here are my headcanons for what each characters natural scent would be!!!!!

(I give reasons for why I went with those things but some of the reasons themselves are headcanons, and some just came to me and have no reason at all besides that fact that i love it that way)

So background info: I headcanon some scents are from birth, while some are added/change based on experiences, temperament and emotions. You have your own scent and it does its own thing, even when you’re human. Humans cant smell them since they aren’t necessarily real, they are more a smell supernaturals pick up that’s a cryptic reflection of ones personality.

Stiles: Gotta start with the main boi!!!! He smells like spicy chili peppers, honey and everything spicy. He is wild and loud and so so sharp. He uses cutting anger and snark and sarcasm as a defense mechanism, this reflects in a scent that burns your nose. But he cares and loves a lot and is super soft, hence the honey. If you focus on his scent too much your eyes water with the chili. When he gets angry he send tears down everyone’s faces and even reddens the cheeks and burns the tongues of the supernatural pack members in his anger, his scent becoming physical as his spark acts up.

Peter: He smells like cold. Like cold, and petrichor and mint toothpaste. He always has. He smells like the cold of ice, the cold you smell when you open a freezer in the cold isle of the grocery store and like Vick’s Vaporub but 10x as strong. As the left hand of the pack it was his job to kill, to eliminate threats, his job to bear all the blood on his hands, to have his hands permanently stained sticky red and his eyes glow blue, so that no one else in the pack has to live with the guilt of murder, even when justified. His first kill was at 8 years old and he would never forgive the fact that he had been given that burden. So he became unmovable ice and unending cold. With the thick smell of rain for the warmth he would always keep hidden.

Theo: His scent is that of fresh, right off the smoker, BBQ sauce-soaked ribs and apple juice. Its a scent he was born with, one that reflects the gooey warmth of his soul and his innocence before he was manipulated and tortured. His scent always throws people off since it usually reflects ones personality and he’s not a good person by any means, he is amoral and cruel; and such a warm, soft scent doesn’t make sense. But his soul (though no longer pure) would always hold his original innocence. The apple juice isn’t actually his scent, but his sisters, her heart such a part of him that his guilt manifested her soul in his scent. And if you focus hard enough, underneath all that you can find the sting of bleach. His time with the dread doctors (and the fact that he was surgically tortured into being a chimera) leaving part of his scent mangled and altered into the artificial tang of bleach. The fact that he forced his scent to remain mostly unchanged throughout his life (which was worse than hell on earth) is Very Very Impressive, even more so when in the beginning he wasn’t even supernatural.

Scott: Our ever-sweet true alpha. He smells like overly sweet pink and blue cotton candy and hot, buttered, movie theater popcorn. He’s literally sugar and spice and everything nice. His morals and warmth translating to the hot popcorn and his perpetual smiling and niceness coming though as cotton candy. He smells like fairgrounds and the laughter of children. Underneath all that he bears the subtle scent of rust, a permanent reminder of his forced change to the supernatural and permanent resentment of the burden he must bear (and the guilt about that resentment)

Derek: He smells of Sandalwood, Patchouli, and Frankincense. He always smells like incense and spices, like the inside of a stereotypical fortune tellers shop. He becomes heat, warmth, and flame. Something that pulls at his soul since the fire. Something that is a comfort to the wolves around him. He also smells heavily of smoke (something that makes Peter unable to be in the same room as him for longer than 30 minutes unless forced) because of his never-ending guilt about his family, something that seared the event into his scent. When he’s angry (which is a lot) his scent gets stronger and the incense smell becomes extremely heady and makes his betas lethargic.

Lydia: She smells like metal, like your hands after handling handfuls of change. She smells like she bathed in pennies, her standoffish coldness bringing the bitter smell to her scent. Since she became a banshee she also smells strongly of spider lilies (also know as hell flowers), japans flower of death. You would think the contrast between bitter metal and floral scents, so strong you choke, would be bad but its actually strangely comforting. And while bitter its the only thing that can get Jackson to relax some days. The scent of the only person there for him for over a decade-and-a-half sometimes even more comforting than the scent of his boyfriend.

Isaac: His scent is of strong cologne even though he never wears any, he smells like he bathed in the Mahogany Teakwood candle from Bath and Body Works, or lived in an Abercrombie & Fitch for 50 years. He always had that smell, even as a child, but it just gets stronger the more confidence he gains. His childhood innocence and cleanliness of soul translates as a strong laundry soap smell. But hidden underneath there's an undertone of metal, plastic, and cold; that takes over his scent when he's scared and overwhelmes everything in a mile radius. It takes the Pack far too long to realize it smells like a freezer and metal chains.

Allison: She smells strongly of ozone and static (not rain though, never rain). Her anger and righteous fury making her scent like electricity and making the static-y-ness tingle in everyone's nose - sometimes making Scott sneeze. Nothing in her scent is pleasant or comforting to everyone's confusion. Its only when she feels negative emotions that she smells like roses and summer. Its like a warning but in reverse, the opposite of what it should be. Bad scents usually mean bad emotions or feelings or memories, and good scents mean good moods and positive things but for her its the opposite. Just like how she took the opposite path then what was laid out for her.

Jackson: He smells very very heavily of cherries, his scent so strong and sweet its like he took a bath in a hot tub filled with cherry cough medicine, chloraseptic cherry sore throat spray, cherry pie, cherry starburst, cherry Jell-O, and maraschino cherries. Its thick and sticky and strong enough to drown out the scent and stick for hours on anyone standing near him or touching him and it lingers on the Pack members even if they haven’t seen each other for years. Case-in-point: Jackson left for England after the kanima thing and Isaac left for France not long after. When Isaac came back 6 years later (2 years after Jackson came back) he still had the smell on him pretty strongly. Why cherries? No one knows. But its thick as hell and stronger than epoxy when it binds to things together forever. The Pack thinks it stems with his identity and abandonment issues, but once he claims you he wont let go, not even his scent. He is very self conscious and embarrassed about it so its never discussed, and he’s been friends with Danny for so long that his scent almost drowns out Danny’s own.

Ethan: Ethan’s scent is subtle and barely there. He was the one who always stood in front of Aiden to protect them, and took the beatings when possible so his scent became as bland and barely-there as possible. The Pack can only smell his scent with intense focus and at least an hours meditation (unless you’re Aiden). He smells of freshly baked bread and homemade jam, comforting smells that easily calm Aiden down. In times of distress he smells of burnt toast, he scent twisting with negative memories. A reminder that all good things have eventually turned bad for him and his twin.

Aiden: Aiden on the other hand smells strongly like curry and lavender. An odd combination but one that speaks of his guarded- but angry, headstrong and stubborn- nature. The abuse left him angry and twitchy and paranoid, everything setting him off and his moods turning on a dime. His scent fluctuated wildly between spicy curry and calming lavender which indicated his mood and Ethan was the only one able to calm him down, doing so with a single touch between his shoulder blades where they merged.

Danny: Danny smells like he lived in a Eucalyptus oil factory for 50 years, the scent soothing and calm like he is. Its always the same and never changes, not even when his emotions do. It was concerning at first, since everyone else’s scents changed throughout the day, even when their mood didn't (the only other scent that barely changed was Peter’s but that was because the man hand an iron grip over his emotions, even in his scent. Which is super impressive). He was just that calm at all times, even when annoyed. The one time he got angry- and I mean really angry not just the pretenses he kept when ‘annoyed’ with Stiles who he more endeared with than anything- his scent overwhelmed the entire apartment complex ( the one Derek had bought out for his loft) with the horrible, strong, pungent scent of burnt rubber. No one angered him again.

But they did have a chat about his witch ancestry.

Erica: Her scent was that of a bonfire. A blazing bonfire, gasoline, and the smell of the world when it was so hot outside the air above the tar street shimmered. She was competitive, and fierce, and pure heat and burning. If she wanted something, she would take it she had always been that way, even when she was sick. And while her sickness may be gone she had a subtle distortion to her scent, one like poison, that made her always smell slightly sick. (Peter almost had a panic attack when he first met her because of her scent, he now never came within 10 feet of her).

Boyd: He smelled like a flower garden. He was so stoic that the floral scent took many by surprise. He had always smelled like soil and dirt, his down to earth personality manifesting as a calming and grounding scent. He also smelled like the ocean, like salt and brine, and waves. But that was all drowned out by the overwhelming smell of flowers, a scent that used to be his sisters, one that he subconsciously adopted after her death when he was still human. He empathized with Theo and would exchange heavy glances when the pack discussed their natural scents as a ‘pack bonding exercise’, they were both drowned in guilt for different reasons, but both over lost sisters. They never discussed it. That was all folks!!! Feel free to add on to this and/or use it as a fanfic reference!!! Do you agree??? What are your headcanons???

#teen wolf #stiles stilinski #peter hale #theo raeken #scott mccall #derek hale #lydia martin #isaac lahey #allison argent #jackson whittemore #ethan steiner #aiden steiner #danny mahealani #erica reyes #vernon boyd

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teaspoon-full-of-sugar · 4 years

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ceraunophilia

pairing: stanley barber x reader (university au)

warnings: cliche kissing in the rain, smut, cursing, it’s pretty vanilla ngl, gets a little angsty in the middle for some reason (because apparently i can’t control myself), comfort :(

word count: 3.4k

synopsis: love is like shelter in a storm: to give you comfort, to keep you warm, and to bring you home

author’s note: this is a university au, so both characters are of legal age, but if you’re still uncomfortable with this, don’t read it :)

anyway, i hope you enjoy! xx all the love

—

Thunderstorms in Pennsylvania are nice. Then again, Y/N has always liked storms. She liked the smell, the sound, the sight; it’s peaceful. It’s like theater, as Stan would say. It’s a slow build with suspense and a climax and an inevitable demise, a modern-day tragedy.

“Looks like it’s gonna rain,” she says, a grin stretching over her features. She’s seated in front of the glass doors that led to his back porch on an old floral sheet, her latest painting drying next to her knees. Stan’s apartment is dimly lit with a cheap lamp, hanging from a chain nailed to the ceiling, and the buzzing lights above the small kitchenette. An incense burns on the coffee table, and next to it is Stan’s tin of joints, one set aside, partially used. It’s that awkward point in the evening, where it’s not really late yet, but it’s not early either. The sky is gray, shrouded with hazy clouds. Sure enough, rain soon falls onto the broken concrete, darkening it.

“Wanna go out?” She asks Stan, eyes pleading.

“In the rain?”

“Not, like, in the rain,” she says as though it was obvious, “Go out and sit on the back porch. Watch the rain.”

“Watch the rain?”

“You’ve never watched the rain?” She gives him an incredulous look, standing while taking his hand. “Well, now we have to watch it.” He grins, stumbling onto his feet. He reaches for his jacket, but she slaps his hand. “No time, Stan, the rain could be over soon. C’mon,” she says, jittery with excitement.

The air outside is cold, scathing and bitter against his uncovered skin. Goose pimples rise on his arms, nose reddening. The wind catches a few droplets, and they seep into his clothes. She sits them down on the bench, still holding his hand, and watches the water drip down from the overflowing gutter and splatter into the concrete, inhaling the fresh scent. A round of thunder rolls in, followed by a flash of lightning, coloring the sky purple momentarily.

He isn’t watching the rain. What is there to watch anyway? He looks at the soft smile painting her features, the look of pure innocence and joy that makes his heart swell. Y/N looks mesmerized, like she’s never seen rain before. Maybe he’s just looking at it the wrong way.

He met Y/N in their first lecture freshman year: 9:15, Calculus with Kessler, and she seemed way too smart to be there, with dozens of highlighters, all organized from warm to cool tones, her book open, and an iced drink placed neatly on the desk. The seat beside hers was the only one available when he showed up, only a couple seconds before the professor shut the door. They paired up for that stupid “getting to know you” part of the first day. He was pleasantly surprised to see the familiar red tint in the whites of her eyes.

He ran into her in the parking lot later that day with a joint held lightly between two fingers. She looked embarrassed after she turned down his offer for a hit and admitted that she only used edibles to help with her anxiety, even though she was quick to tell him that she didn’t get anxious too often. She told him later that she was worried that he might think she was crazy. He just smiled, not knowing how to tell her that he had seen much crazier things.

Stan will proudly admit now that he flirted with her. Granted, his definition is different than most peoples’, but he always tried his hardest to make her laugh, even if it was so early in the morning. She helped him a lot, too, often meeting with him in the library or even at his apartment. He asked her on a date on their last day of class.

Now, it’s summer, and the last thing Stan wanted to do was go back home; Y/N didn’t have much of a homelife either, so she’s been staying with him while the dorms are closed for renovations. It was an odd situation at the beginning. They had only been dating for a few months and moving in together seemed a little fast. However, Stan said that it was no problem, that he loved her company, anyway, so it was just another excuse for him to see her everyday. Y/N was insistent that it was temporary, until she had enough money saved for her own apartment, and that she would pay her fair share of the rent, but Stan didn’t expect her to. Two months in, and they’re still going on strong.

“You know,” he begins, wrapping an arm around her. The metal bench is cold against his back, even through the layers of clothing. “I’ve always wanted to kiss in the rain.”

She whips around to face him, a large cheshire grin on her lips, brow cocking. She doesn’t give him a chance to say anything before she’s tugging him into the rain. It soaks his floral button down, cardigan weighing down and drooping on his shoulders. His hair sinks onto his forehead, bare feet squishing in the fresh mud, but the smile on her face makes it work it. He tips his head back and opens his mouth.

“No,” she says, giggling. “You know how much pollution and stuff that water has been through?” She cups his chin in her hand, fingers squishing his cheeks together, and tugs him toward her.

“You know that’s a myth,” he scoffs. She rolls her eyes.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

She pulls him down by his soaked cardigan, their noses grazing before their lips meet, cold and slippery. Her breaths are warm against his cool skin, and her arms wrap tightly around his middle, slipping under his shirt. He jumps at little at the touch, breaking them apart, and she leans her forehead against his, a frown on her lips.

“That wasn’t as fun as I thought it would be,” she mumbles, pouting. The rain catches on a gust of wind, soaking them even further. Stan jumps, tucking himself closer to her, arms hugging tightly around her shoulders.

“It was really… wet,” he giggles, running his nose along hers, which scrunches in return. His teeth chatter, lips turning blue. She pushes the hair from his forehead, hand surprisingly warm, and he leans into her touch.

“We should go inside before you catch a cold.”

They fumble back inside, soaking the carpet with mud and water.

“Here, let me get you a towel,” he mutters, turning to the closet in the corner of the living room.

“Thanks,” she says, fingers tapping against her leg rhythmically. A rush of confidence suddenly fills her, and she tugs the wet shirt over her head, pants soon following.

“I didn’t know how many you’ll need so—” Stan turns around suddenly, mouth falling open at the sight of her, stripped down to her undergarments and an expectant look in her eyes. “Oh, uh—“ he swallows sharply, towels falling through his fingers. His gaze meets hers, eyes never trailing away, even when she reaches behind her back, bra falling limply to the carpet.

When he doesn’t move, say, or do anything, Y/N begins to feel incredibly self-conscious, arms crossing over her newly exposed chest.

“Stan?” she whispers, but he doesn’t answer, frozen in place. Defeat and embarrassment floods her, warming her skin. She stutters. “Sorry, it was—uh—stupid of me. I shouldn't have... I-I-I—” Her voice breaks as she kneels down to pick her clothes up. A hand stops her, and Stan cups her cheek when she looks fully up.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, a soft smile splitting his features. He holds her hands and guides her back up, facing him. He kisses her, arms wrapped tightly around her waist, finger tips tracing up her spine. Shivers creep over his skin.

Her bare breasts press firmly against him as she shoves the soaked cardigan from his shoulders. They break apart, and he tugs his shirt off, her eyes unabashedly roaming over the newly exposed skin. He pulls her lips back onto his by her neck, thumb nestled beneath the curve of her jaw. She nibbles at his lip, tugging and sucking it into her mouth. His hold on her tightens, heat rushing to his groin.

“Are you sure?”

He’s worried, worried that she’s going to regret it, worried that after everything is done, she’ll leave or go off with someone else, and worried that she’ll realize that she made a mistake with him. Deep down, he knows that she’s not the kind of person. She’s very reserved and doesn’t open up around many people, and it takes a while for her to be comfortable with someone, but there is always this scared and insecure little voice in his head, telling him that he’s not worth it.

“Are you sure?” She asks in reply, a small smirk toying on her lips.

“Yes,” he smiles, thumb caressing her cheek bone.

“Me, too,” she says. “C’mon,” she whispers against his lips, tugging on his hand. He hastily unbuttons his pants, stumbling to his room with wet jeans around his ankles. They collapse onto his bed, and he kicks them off fully, straddling her hips. It’s a mess of heated kisses, delighted laughter, and roaming hands. She clings to him, legs wrapped tightly around his middle with fingers tracing indiscernible designs on his back. Her breath hitches when his lips travel lower, between the valley of her breasts. He notices; of course, he does, light eyes flickering up to catch the nerves passing over her features.

“I’ll be gentle,” he promises, raising his pinkie. A smile rises on her lips, and she links their pinkies together. He nestles into her neck, pressing wet kisses to her hot skin.

Even though they have been together for nearly seven months, they had never made it this far. Y/N made it clear in the beginning that she had never done anything sexual before and wouldn’t unless she felt comfortable, and Stan felt fine with that. He never wanted to pressure her into doing anything, and, honestly, he was fine spending the weekends with her, getting high, watching films, and making out a little.

He was perfectly content with that.

But he would be lying if he said that he isn’t enjoying exploring her body. He loves the feeling of her twitching and pliant to his ministrations. He loves the little gasps and whimpers that fall from her lips when he bites on the skin of her breast. He can feel her heart pick up. Her fingers comb through his hair, tugging and scratching at the curls.

She pulls her legs up, hugging his waist. He can tell that her nerves are starting to get the better of her when he kisses down to her belly. She breathes out sharply through her nose, eyes closed.

“You okay? Do you wanna stop?”

Y/N doesn’t really know how to feel. It isn’t bad or forceful or upsetting; it’s just so new and foreign to her, this love and affection and lust, that she just froze, and, of course her nerves get the better of her, spiking painfully in her chest. It felt nice, but she, somehow, got stuck in her head and ruined everything.

“No,” she says finally, but her voice warbles, tears filling her eyes. She covers her face, but she can hear the sheets rusting quickly and feels his warm grasp on her wrists.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, gently guiding her hands back down. Stan is above her once again, eyes soft and forgiving. She looks ashamed, and his heart aches a little.

“I just—“ A tear slips down her warm cheeks, but he wipes it away with his free hand. Stan has always been nothing but patient with her when she gets stuck, always gentle to coerce her out of an anxiety-induced stupor. He is always so sweet and understanding with her, so deserving of everything the world could offer.

“I think I love you,” she says finally.

He smiles.

“You think?”

“No, I know I do, but,” she stammers, struggling to find her words. “I’m scared.”

“We don’t have to do this, Y/N,” he says.

“I want to, but I didn’t shave, and what if I can’t get wet? That would be so embarrassing, and I have no idea what I’m doing, and what if you think it looks ugly down there?” She rambles.

“I don’t care about that stuff,” he scoffs, holding her hand. They interlock easily, and he strokes her knuckles. “I mean I’m sure you look beautiful… down there no matter what, regardless of whether you shaved or not, and I’m still learning, too, so we can figure each other out. That’s what this is all about, right?”She nods, biting her lip, teeth tugging at the extra skin. She doesn’t respond, eyes trailing nervously over their fingers, which are trembling, knuckles white.

“But that’s not really what you’re afraid of. Is it?” He whispers, and she finally looks at him, eyes teary and insecure.

“What if we do this, and you get tired of me?”

Stan’s gaze softens. He completely understands. Hell, he had the same thoughts, but at some point, you can’t let your insecurities and doubts and panic get in the way of your happiness and chance at love; sometimes, you just have to jump. Despite everything that he has been through, he has learned to be the type to just put his heart out on his sleeve, and no matter how much pain he goes through, he can’t let his past affect his future. Now that he found someone that he can really see a future with, he can’t ruin that.

He doesn’t want her to feel as scared as he used to.

“I’d hate to break it to you, but you’re stuck with me.” He smiles, feeling tears burn in his eyes. “Until you get tired of me, of course, because… I think I love you, too,” he laughs.

“I don’t deserve you,” she says, and he blushes. She grazes a thumb over his heated cheeks, tracing the faint freckles. She pulls him back in for a kiss, and his hands fall to her waist, stroking and caressing the skin. She wraps her arms around him, moving him back on top of her to straddle her leg.

“Are you sure you still wanna do this?” He’s panting heavily, and she breathes out.

“Yes,” she says, more assured than the last time he asked.

“I’ll talk to you the entire time, okay? You gotta tell me what to do because I’ve only done this one other time, and…” He laughs. “Just talk to me, okay?”

“Yeah,” she nods, and his hand trails down to the elastic band of her underwear. Her hips jerk into his touch, a whine slipping past her lips.

“I gotcha,” he whispers as his hand nestles perfectly between her legs. Her eyes flutter closed, feeling his fingers explore her. He rests his forehead against hers, breath warm on her wet lips.

This is all uncharted territory for her. When Y/N was in high school, she was never one to catch the attention of people; she liked to stick to the background and not draw any unwanted attention to herself, and that definitely was the case when it came to dating. She always said that she was too busy, with school or work, to be in a relationship, not that she didn’t yearn for the love and support that came with dating. A small, subconscious part of herself, the part that was nervous and apprehensive and insecure, was also worried about the aftermath of a relationship, the heartache, the rejection, and the loneliness.

Maybe she was just trying to protect herself.

Stan, however, was a surprise.

He came in out of nowhere and swooped her off of her feet. He was everything she hoped for in a relationship: understanding, respectful, and supportive, but he also pushed her to do things she never thought she would do, not necessarily with things that she was uncomfortable with; he would never do that, but he would encourage her to go out, to become less withdrawn, and to help her get past her fears and anxiety.

Honestly, she’s glad that she waited. She’s glad that she’s in Stan’s arms, cherished and safe, rather than someone she met in high school or one of her coworkers. She’s glad that Stan, tentative and generous, is holding her and pleasuring her, tucked away in their apartment.

He spreads her lips, the pad of his finger pressing gently into her tight opening, feeling the arousal slip out. She shivers, and her quivering thighs spread even further. His touch is gentle, careful, almost, but he’s focused, deliberate and attentive, his eyes watchful to any slight changes, in her breathing, her facial expressions, and her movements.

“Tell me what you need,” he says.

“Uh, I don’t know.” He spreads her wetness upward, trying to find that swollen little bead. He rolls her clit between two fingers, and she jerks up, nearly hitting him in the head, a burning, spiking pleasure spread to her toes. “There,” she gasps, and he smiles. Her pussy throbs and tightens, her feet slipping on the sheets. She hums, her hips bucking into his hand. He bites her lip.

“Good girl, so fucking beautiful,” he says to himself, pressing his lips sporadically to her skin, sticky with sweat. He pushes back her flyaways with his free hand, all while rubbing at her clit, his hips grinding against her leg.

It’s messy with inexperience, but she seems to be enjoying it, sweat forming on her hairline, eyes closed. Her thighs twitch around his hand, threatening to close with every flick of his wrist. Pleasure burns through her, throbbing, aching but also sweet, delicious, and addicting. She struggles for breath, toes curled. Her hips jolt upward, a drawn out moan sneaking through her shuddering gasps, chest heaving.

“Stan, I’m—” She whines, nails digging into the comforter, white-knuckled.

“Do what you need to do,” he says, feeling her thighs tremble. “C’mon,” he coos, his fingers slipping faster over her swollen clit, wet and messy. She comes not a moment later with a broken whimper of his name.

They lie there, breathing heavily with the scent of arousal and sweat thick in the air. He leans forward, forehead resting against hers, noses tucked together. She rubs her hands over his waist, caressing the skin. He pulls his hand away from her, fingers tracing over the wet patch on the outside of her panties. Her hips buck, and a soft laugh slips past her swollen lips. She swallows.

“Do you need me to, uh—” She gestures toward his crotch, and he laughs awkwardly.

“No, I’m, uh, good,” he says, blushing. “I’m great.” She giggles and pulls him onto his side. His hair sticks up in all sorts of different directions from her hands running through it, and she smooths some strays back. The rain is still hammering away outside, but they’re safe and warm in each others’ arms.

“Thank you,” she says, nestling her face into his chest, still bare and warm against her skin.

“For what?” He asks. She can feel heat spread from her feet to the tips of her ears. She shrugs.

“I don’t know,” she mumbles. “For being you, I guess.”

Stan’s heart swells at her words. He was always one to take others’ opinions, of him or anything, really, with a grain of salt; it never meant much to him because if he spent too much time dwelling about it, he would drive himself mad, weak and spineless. He never thought much of others’ opinions about him, but having Y/N, the girl who he’s sure he loves, appreciative of who he is, by no other judgement than her experiences alone, is enough to bring tears to his eyes. He doesn’t respond to her, just pulling her closer to him, a large smile on his face with red sprouting beneath freckled cheeks.

—

#stanley barber #stanley barber x reader #stanley barber imagine #i am not okay with this #ianowt #ianowt imagine #ellie writes smut #ellie writes #ellie writes fluff #gif not mine #credit to owner

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inspiringwhilerespiring · 4 years

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Me avoiding work :))))

1: Golden mornings or peachy sunsets?

I am a sucker for both; I usually miss sunrises though :(

2: Sugar cones or waffle cones?

Waffle

3: Do you wear scarves often? do you have a favorite?

I live in TX so its pretty dang hot most of the year, but I do love them A LOT

4: How long do you lay in bed before you finally get up?

Oh man, I am really working on this. On average I’d say 30 min-hour lol thats awful to admit out loud. But I want to be able to just get up and jet!

5: Is there a food you’ve never had but always wanted to try?

BRUH I am sure there is sooo much out there - especially like Asian or Carribean or Indian cuisines.

6: What does your umbrella look like?

Don’t have one

7: Do you listen to ASMR?

Yeah lmao I have a whole ass playlist on Youtube

8: Rain storms or a light drizzle?

I appreciate the fuck out of both <3

9: What’s a little thing in life that you love?

Just about everything lol but off the top of my head - the smell of freshly made coffee.

10: Favorite color aesthetic?

Lately, its been that sandy, dusty pink or nude - goes really well with all the plants I have lol

11: Wobbly lines or using a ruler?

Depends of course

12: Bright colorful living room or neutral cozy living room?

Mines pretty neutral but it don’t really matter to me

13: Do you have any candles? what scents are they?

Lol toooo many - I believe there is no such thing as enough candles. The one in front of me is Floral Serenity

14: Have you ever rode a horse?

Yeeee haw I’m from TX bitch

15: Do you have glasses?

sunglasses ya, and those blue-light ones from amazon lol

16: What’s a language you’d like to speak?

I’m pretty knowledgable in Spanish, but I’d like to be 100% fluent - also ASL

17: What’s your favorite season and favorite month in that season?

FUCK! Hard one - but I guess Fall and October/November; I just love the cold and October has some nice ass weather in TX/

18: Do you have a favorite pair of socks?

Not really lol I wear this crew cut white pair a lot lately tho

19: Favorite Ghibli and/or disney movie?

Hmmmm I’m not sure - maybe Lion King

20: Disney, Dreamworks, or Pixar?

Don’t care

21: What snacks do you usually get at the theater?

Growing up it was always those Junior Mints lol

22: What’s an underrated video game/ movie/ show you love and think it needs more recognition?

Hmm good question - I really like Richard Linklater (he’s from H town) and he does a lot of films in TX and his projects are really interesting, so maybe his movies lol as for video games and shows idk

23: Would you fill your house with plants if you had a green thumb?

bitch you guessed it!

24; All plants are great but do you have a favorite?

ganjaaaaa lol but in all honesty, this is a haarrrddd question. Any plant that I can eat or has medicinal values - which is a fuckton of them lol

25: Do you have a favorite type of art style? (eg: soft looking, no to little color, sketches, crisp and clean, minimalist, pixel art etc.)

nah, I appreciate all forms of art.

26: What would you do if someone gave you flowers?

blush and thank them

27: Do you like nicknames?

yeah I suppose - lol I feel like as humans we all appreciate or enjoy any form of thoughtfulness or something that makes us feel exclusive/individual

28: Do you still watch shows you watched when you were a kid? even from time to time?

Yeah lowkey I put on shit like Planet Earth, Fresh Prince, Spongebob, That 70s show, etc in the background sometimes if I can’t sleep or am feeling anxious at night to fall asleep to

29: Do you still like old memes? (tell the truth)

yeah

30: Favorite Halloween costume you dressed up as? (if you don’t celebrate halloween have you ever cosplayed or would you like to? who did you cosplay as?)

LOL I think the best one I did was Baby spice from the Spice Girls - I thrifted the entire outfit and got a shit ton of compliments

31: Are you a fashionable person?

eh lol in my head mostly

32: Do you like watching holiday movies?

yeah honestly

33: Cookies or brownies?

cooookies

34: Do you blow in the cold air just to see your breath?

we’ve all done that I’m sure

35: Do you find the crickets chirping outside your window relaxing?

no for the most part

36: Do you like cobblestone streets?

yeah fasho

37: How often do you doodle?

not enough anymore

38: When was the last time you blew bubbles?

when I chew gum?

39: What’s your favorite random piece of decor in your house and room?

books

40: Do you bite your fingernails off or clip them more often?

i bite the fck out of them :/

41: Any birthmarks?

42: Thoughts on freckles?

I don’t have any thoughts, they are what they are - but I do like how the artsy/imaginative side of me likes to believe that they are little stars on our bodies and we’re all made up of the same matter in the universe type shit lol

43: First video game you ever played?

Sonic the Hedgehog - Sega or Super Mario Bros on the Gameboy

44: what type of bird do you hear most often outside your door?

some type of songbird

45: Do you use gifs/ memes a lot when replying to people?

I used to a lot more lol

46: Thoughts on spring?

LUV U<3333

47: Ideal temperature outside?

48: Cloudy, partly cloudy, or clear skies?

Cloudy

49: How often do you hear airplanes outside?

A lot since I live like 15 min away from the airport, I get to watch em take off from my window

50: Do you enjoy windy days?

Yessss

#about me #another damn survey #haylee #questions

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inu-jiru · 7 years

Text

Mafiatale - Chapter Two

Side by side, Frisk and Toriel walked, going deeper into the Monster District. Every so often, the boy would take a glance behind him, looking back at the fence. It grew smaller and smaller with each passing minute. Frisk couldn’t help but wonder...was he really doing this? Was he really going to leave everything he had known behind for a woman, a monster woman, no less, that he just met? He looked back at Toriel. The monster woman was smiling contently, walking with her hands folded neatly in front of her. She just had an air of pleasantness about her. Surely, Frisk was making the right choice. After all, it would be all be worth it to have a roof over his head again.

Taking a look around, Frisk noticed that they had walked onto a narrow road, sandwiched between ramshackled and incredibly small shacks. Their plywood walls were decayed, damaged by years of rain and snow. Most of their windows were broken, revealing the darkness inside. Doors were either nonexistent, or were replaced by nails and wooden planks. It all gave Frisk a sort of uneasy feeling, and he subconsciously moved closer to Toriel. Toriel looked down at him, a merry laugh escaping her lips.

“Don’t you worry, hun,” she told him. “The Slums might be a bit run down…”

“A bit?” Frisk thought, cocking a brow.

“But in time, you’ll see it’s a nice, little place. Not too many monsters live around here, so you don’t have to worry about unwanted attention. Keep in mind, though, if someone does give ya trouble…” She patted her jacket’s pocket. “I’ll fill ‘em with daylight.” Frisk wasn’t too sure what that meant exactly, but judging by Toriel’s gesture, it didn’t sound too good. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be given the chance to act on that promise.

Onwards, they walked, twisting and turning on the worn, cobblestone path. Many times, Frisk had noticed movements out of the corners of his eye. When he turned to look, he would see an assortment of monsters: large, meowing frogs, timid-looking insect creatures, and even what appeared to be sentient globs of gelatin. They would watch Frisk from within the shacks and around the corners, looking curious, but never approaching. Toriel’s arm suddenly wrapped around his shoulders, and as Frisk glanced up at her, he could see her reaching for her pocket. His heart skipped a beat.

“U-Uh...maybe they just want to say “hello”?” said Frisk quietly.

“Hmph,” Toriel responded, glaring at the other monsters out of the side of her eyes. “They’d better say it away from us, then.” Frisk fell silent. He glanced back at the other monsters, only for them to have disappeared. In their place however was...something. Frisk couldn’t exactly make out what it was, but it was standing off in the distance, watching them quietly. It was covered in the darkness of the shadows; the only thing Frisk could make out were two, white pinpricks of light. Perhaps it was one of the frog things? No...it was much larger. Much...stouter…

“T-Tor…” Frisk began, pulling on the woman’s skirt. No sooner had he began speaking, however, the figure suddenly vanished, as if it had never existed in the first place. Frisk gasped, glancing around. Where had it gone? How could it have disappeared like that? The boy was so dumbfounded, that he hadn’t realized Toriel had been talking to him.

“Hun? Honey? What’s wrong? What’d ya see?”

“I thought...I thought I saw…” Frisk paused for a moment, before shaking his head. “Uh, nevermind...I think it was one of those monsters again.”

“Don’t you fret, hun,” said the monstress. “We’re almost home.” Throughout the rest of the journey, Frisk clung tightly to Toriel. He could feel eyes burning into his back as the thing continued to watch him, but he refused to look back. Whatever it was, it would have to come closer and risk getting blown away if it wanted to cause trouble.

“Ah, there it is.” Toriel and Frisk had finally come to a stop in front of a much nicer-looking shack. The walls were a gentle purple, and by the looks of it, they had been recently painted, making it pop against the surrounding grays and browns. There were two windows, small garden boxes perched neatly on the windows. In said boxes bloomed golden-colored flowers. It was a pretty nice place, Frisk had to admit. He followed Toriel inside, glancing down as he stepped on the doormat. “Welcome Home!”, it read.

Frisk had taken only a single step inside the living room, when he was blasted in the face by a thick layer of herbal-scented smoke. It assaulted his nose and filled his lungs, sending him into a violent, coughing fit. Toriel led Frisk towards one of the windows, opening it up and fanning the smoke outside.

“Great…” a high-pitched voice suddenly said. “The ol’ chunk o’ lead’s back.”

“Oh, hush up,” Toriel shot back. “And put that darned thing out; we have company.”

As Frisk took a few deep breaths of fresh air, he looked around. The living room was very small, sharing space with a dining table and the kitchen. A bookshelf was tucked away in the corner, hold all sorts of books. A sofa and an armchair bordered a mahogany coffee table. Another small table rested beside the armchair, holding a radio and a flowerpot. In the flowerpot was another golden flower, but unlike the ones outside, this one seemed to be sentient. It had a face, for starters, and a rather bored-looking one at that. Atop its “head” was a black, red-trimmed fedora. Hanging out of the side of its mouth was what looked like a cigar, which continued to spew that harsh aroma.

“Pheh…” the flower scoffed. “Why should I?”

“Because I’ll turn ya into golden flower tea if ya don’t,” replied Toriel matter-of-factly. The flower rolled his eyes, and a vine suddenly sprouted from the potting soil, plucking the cigar from his mouth and crushing the lit end against the side of the pot. A triumphant Toriel led Frisk over to the couch, where he carefully sat down. The flower looked him over with his beady, black eyes.

“So who’s the new brat?” Frisk flinched at the insult. Toriel gave him a gentle pat on the head.

“Don’t pay him no mind, hun,” she whispered to him. “He’s all bark and no bite.”

“I heard that.”

“Good.” The grumpy, little houseplant pouted, causing Toriel to chuckle. “And to answer your question, Flowey, this is Frisk. I found him at the fence; some bullies were givin’ him a hard time, so, I stepped in.”

“Ooh.” The flower, Flowey, apparently, now looked interested. “Did ya shoot any of ‘em?” Frisk was taken aback, and by the looks of it, so was Toriel.

“Heavens, no!”

“Rats…”

“And ya wonder why I never letcha outta that pot...”

“That’s why?” A smirk slowly stretched across Flowey’s features. “An’ here I thought it was just ‘cause you were bein’ a bit--”

“AHEM.” Toriel’s brow furrowed, and she was suddenly staring daggers at her floral companion. A beat of sweat ran down his “face”, and he averted his gaze, taking notice of the radio beside him.

“Wonder if anythin’ good’s on…” Flowey muttered, the vine once again sprouting and messing with the radio’s dials. Frisk blinked. He wasn’t entirely sure of what to make of that situation, or Flowey himself, for that matter. But it seemed that Toriel had him under control, so he supposed there wasn’t too much to worry about. He looked up at Toriel, who smiled down at him.

“Make yourself at home, hun,” she said cheerfully. “Can I get you anything?” Frisk was about to respond, when his stomach began to growl. His cheeks turned a light shade of red; he had forgotten that he hadn’t had lunch that day. Toriel let out a soft laugh. “Perhaps something to eat, then?”

“Ha, yes’m,” Frisk replied with a nod.

“Comin’ right up, sweetheart.” Toriel prepared to walk off, when she paused, and looked back at Frisk. “Oh, before I go, I should probably ask...which do ya prefer? Cinnamon or butterscotch?”

Frisk paused. What an...interesting question. He took a moment to think. He couldn’t recall ever having butterscotch, but he had always been a fan of cinnamon.

“Cinnamon,” he finally answered.

“Ain’t that nice?” Toriel cooed. “But now, lemme ask ya this: I know your preference an’ all, but...you wouldn’t be upset if ya found butterscotch on your plate, would ya?”

Again...what an interesting question. Still, it didn’t hurt to try something new, would it?

“No’m,” replied Frisk.

“Alright, I understand. Lemme get to work, and in the meantime, make yourself at home, hmm?” Toriel walked off into the kitchen area. From the comfort of the couch, Frisk watched as Toriel got to work, getting bowls and various ingredients from the cupboards. He then turned away, staring at Flowey. His heart skipped a beat as he realized Flowey was staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face. As their eyes met, however, Flowey looked away, back towards the radio. Frisk bit his lip, no longer feeling comfortable sitting near the flower. He got up, deciding the take this opportunity to look around a bit.

Although Toriel’s home was very small, and the majority of it he’d already seen when he walked in, there had been a small corridor near the dinner table that had made Frisk rather curious. Walking down the corridor, Frisk noticed two doors on his right side. Peeking inside of the first door, he was pleasantly surprised to find a tiny bedroom, just big enough for a child his size. It was, for the most part, bare, with a little bed, a small toy box, a bureau for clothes, and a window that allowed the afternoon sun to pour in. Frisk stepped inside, taking a seat on the bed. The blanket felt so soft… Frisk hesitated, before lying down, burying his nose in the material. Toriel must’ve recently washed it, because it smelled like garden in the springtime. It was so nice...FIt would’ve been all too easy to just curl up and fall into a deep sleep...

Frisk’s eyes fluttered open, a mouth-watering aroma filling his nose. The boy sat up in the bed, rubbing away at his tired face. How long had he been out? He couldn’t be sure, but a quick glance at the window told him that it was late in the evening. The sky was a blend of orange of navy blue, and the stars were just beginning to appear. Frisk might as well have gone right back to sleep, but he couldn’t. He had to find out what that scrumptious smell was.

Throwing back the blankets (which he had just now realized he had been tucked into), Frisk hopped out of the bed. The smell was coming from beneath him now. Looking down, Frisk saw that a plate of pie had been put on the floor. Staring at it, Frisk began to remember Toriel’s words just before she left him alone. Cinnamon...butterscotch...Could it be? Had she made him a...cinnamon-butterscotch pie? Frisk felt a smile tug at his lips. Kneeling down, he picked up the plate of pie. The slightest bit of heat still radiated from it, even after all the hours that had passed. He couldn’t eat this pie, not yet, not before thanking the woman who had slaved over a hot oven to make it for him. Frisk exited the room, making his way back down the corridor, and into the living room.

“Ms. Toriel?” he called. No response. Frisk looked around, seeing nothing but a dark and empty kitchen and an almost-empty living room. Flowey sat in his flower pot, facing the radio, which played a piece of smooth, seductive jazz. Frisk’s brow furrowed; he didn’t really want to talk to Flowey, but it seemed he was the only one here, unless...Frisk glanced back to the other door. Maybe that was Toriel’s room? Perhaps she had gone to bed herself?

“If you’re lookin’ for the ol’ hag,” Flowey suddenly spoke up. “She ain’t ‘ere.”

“...Oh,” Frsk murmured in reply. “Um...where did she go?”

“She had to head back to work in the Ghettout.”

“Ghettout?” Frisk echoed.

“Yeah.” Flowey glanced back at Frisk, his eyes half-lidded. “It ain’t too far from ‘ere, but I doubt ol’ Tori wants ya goin’ out that far. Best ya stay here ‘til she gets back. S’nearly closin’ time, anyway.”

“Oh...ok.”

“The Ghettout,” Frisk thought, as he took a seat over at the dining table. He stared at the butterscotch pie, his mind racing as he thought about this strange, new place. What was it like over there? It seemed only Toriel knew. For now, at least.

Oh wooooow, two written works in one day? And the second one is CHAPTER TWOOOO? Isn’t this lovely, my children?

#mafiatale #mafiatale fanfiction #frisk the human #mmm yeah things are getting pretty spicy #no?#toriel the goatmom #flowey the BITCH

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sugasgrowl · 7 years

Text

Saturdays Pt 2

Genre: Smut/fluff

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Warnings: SMUT straight up smut, swearing, light spanking, dirty talk, blow job, cunningilus, but mostly just vanilla sex

Word Count: 7625

Here’s my second ever smut! I’m not 100% happy with it, but I really enjoyed writing their relationship dynamic. Dedicated to @jungkxook @jungblue and @tayegi :)

Part 1

-------------------------------------------------

Jungkook carried you through the entryway of your bathroom and gently placed you on the cool tiles, his strong hands firmly gripped at your hips to pull your body into his. After leaving a fleeting kiss against your temple, he leaned over the deep bathtub and twisted the knob so that steaming water was flooding the inside. He quickly turned his attention back to you and tugged at the hem of your hoodie with a quiet whine.

“Eager to see me naked?” you joked as you pulled the sweatshirt over your head.

When you emerged from underneath, you didn’t miss the way Jungkook’s eyes hungrily drank in your shirtless figure--his usually wide and innocent eyes darkening as he noticed that you hadn’t been wearing a bra. Deciding to take advantage of his piqued interest, you hooked your thumbs under the waistband of your leggings and slowly pushed them down your legs before stepping out of them and lazily kicking them in the general direction of the hamper.

Jungkook stared at you momentarily, his intense gaze almost making you self-conscious, before he groaned, low and deep, and closed the distance between you to run his chilly fingers down your spine. Goosebumps tickled your exposed flesh, only growing even more prominent when his hands found purchase on your ass. Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment at the way he was slowly kneading the muscles--his touch and the cool air hitting your skin causing your nipples to harden and grow sensitive with every subtle graze of his clothed chest against yours.

He leaned down and connected your lips in a much more urgent and feverish kiss than the one you shared in the living room just moments before.

“Yes, I am,” he nearly moaned into your mouth, his full lower lip grazing yours with every syllable. He lightly nipped at your bottom lip and ran his fingernails along the backs of your upper thighs.

“Aside from the disappointingly few nudes you blessed me with, I didn’t get to see all this,” he ran his hands up your torso until he was massaging your breasts, “for three months. I suffered without you.”

“You mean your dick suffered,” you playfully remarked, drawing a sweet chuckle from Jungkook’s chest.

You fisted his damp hoodie as he began toying with your nipples, and you couldn’t help but exhale a faint sigh when he lightly rolled the sensitive buds between his cool thumb and forefinger. The way you tightly clung to his shirt drew a smirk to tug at his lips, and your brow quirked at his playful smugness.

“Well, yes,” he connected your lips once more.

“There were a lot of painful nights,” limber hips lightly ground into your abdomen. “And mornings.”

The crinkling at the corner of his eyes and desperate pawing at your skin reminded you that you were supposed to be repaying him for being distant while he was on tour.

“Right,” you laughed as you rucked the fabric of his hoodie up his torso, prompting him to reach around to the nape of his neck and yank it over his head, “like you didn’t lock yourself in your hotel room with hours worth of porn and your hand shoved down your pants every single night.”

As he undressed, you turned off the faucet. When you turned your attention back to your boyfriend, he was in the process of kicking off his jeans.

His shoulders felt firm and warm under your fingers as you began leading him backwards to lean against the counter. Doe eyes were playful and hungry as you twirled at the hair at the nape of his neck before nosing along the column of his throat, feather light kisses peppering his bronze skin. Without warning, you dragged the tip of your tongue along the curve of his neck and wrapped your lips around his earlobe, metal hoop earring clinking against your teeth. Jungkook hummed in satisfaction.

“Listen, I’m a man with needs,” he breathed as you grazed his growing bulge with your fingertips.

Jungkook couldn't hear your chuckle as much as feel it, the laugh coming out as a jump of your shoulders. You pulled back from him to gently place both hands on either side of his neck and plant two lingering pecks against his lips. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach when you smiled brightly and kissed the tip of his nose.

“I love you, you high maintenance diva,” you said.

Jungkook’s whole face lit up with a grin and he groaned playfully in distaste as you leaned back in to cover his lips and jaw in a series of messy and fleeting kisses. He tried his best to wiggle away from you, but your kisses were everywhere and nowhere all at once, the wet smack of your lips on his skin echoing off the tiles in the bathroom. As soon as your assault began, it was over and you were reaching for something on the counter behind him.

“Pick your poison,” your lifted a basket full of colorful bath bombs, the mixture of perfumes swirling under your noses in a fragrant fog.

The “man with needs” standing before you quickly transformed into an excited kid as he picked up each individual bath bomb and examined the colors, but only after deeply inhaling the flowery scents to choose his favorite.

“This one,” he held up the large pink and purple sphere. You quickly plucked it from his fingers and placed it in the steaming water.

The two of you stood watching it dissolve for a moment, the swirls of baby pink and lavender pulling you out of your aroused states for a fleeting second before Jungkook was quickly pulling down his boxer briefs. You watched in amusement as he stepped over the side of the tub and lowered his long body into the soft pink water. Head leaning back against the porcelain, muscular shoulders peeking out above the water, he let out a content sigh and let his eyes flutter closed.

“Well?” the expectant smile that warmed his features could have powered all of Russia. “Get in.”

“Bossy,” you muttered as you pulled off your lacy panties. You ran your fingers through Jungkook’s tousled hair that was still damp from the heavy rain outside. “Here, sit up.”

He peeled one eye open to send you a questioning glance.

“Why?”

“Because,” you sarcastically sighed, “I put too much distance between us while you were away and I said I was going to make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to make it--”

“But I already said that I would. It’s a thing. It’s already in the works.”

You brushed your lips across his cheek.

“But I wanna hold--”

“Do you not want a massage?”

He paused.

“Yes, but you know how I feel about being the litt--”

“Jeon Jungkook, we have been together for almost a full year. You cannot tell me shit about how much you hate being the little spoon,” he furrowed his brow, a faint blush creeping up his neck, and opened his mouth to fire back a response. You held up a finger to silence him and continued with a sly smile.

“You even asked me to hold you the night before you left for tour. Don’t pretend like you don’t love to be treated like the big baby you are. Now, scooty your booty so I can shower you with love and affection.”

The annoyed glare he sent your way was mostly for show, the failed attempt at hiding his grin giving him away.

“Anything for you, Your Extraness,” he grumbled with a snort.

When he finally resituated himself to give you enough room to slip in behind him, you were sitting with Jungkook nestled between your legs and his muscled back facing you. The ocean of mauve that surrounded the two of you on all sides rocked wildly and a few audacious waves threatened to peak over the edge of the tub and trickle into the floor.

You leaned forward and snaked your arms around your boyfriend’s torso to press your cheek against his spine. Curious fingers absentmindedly traced over the smooth dips and divots of his defined muscles as you revelled in the feeling of being skin to skin with Jungkook after so long. With every inhale you were falling deeper and deeper into the trance that Jungkook’s scent put on you. Even after all that time apart, even with the floral scent of the bath bomb overpowering everything in the bathroom, he still smelled exactly the same. Light, like fresh laundry with a hint of citrus biting underneath, and the warm tang of something that can only be described as boy, all mixed together to create the scent that smelled like home. You wished that spritzing his cologne on your pillow at night was enough to bring the sense of comfort that he did, but it never quite did the trick.

Neither of you spoke for a moment, both too caught up in the feeling of peace that came with him finally coming home.

Memories from when he was off touring the world crept back into your mind. You had only intended to give him enough space so that he wouldn’t feel overwhelmed by the combination of his already outrageous workload paired with the work it would take to worry about you. Flashes of past text messages where he was clearly worried about your obviously limited number of responses in comparison to before he was gone made your heart pang with guilt.

Are you sure you’re okay? Are we okay? You’re being awful quiet lately, he’d said. You’d always reply with some bullshit about having a lot of schoolwork or being tired. In hindsight, you should have told him your reasoning for not responding as much. The lack of communication on your part brought Jungkook many sleepless nights due to the fear of you losing interest, and that fact made you feel ashamed.

You tightened your grip around his waist and began planting light kisses along the expanse of his shoulderblades before leaning back and tracing your fingertips along his spine. He said nothing, though the goosebumps that appeared across his flesh said that the action must have felt nice. Your hands found their way to the back of his neck, where your thumbs began rubbing deep circles into the tense knots under his skin. The way Jungkook’s head lolled back against your touch and the deep moan that was drawn from his chest shot a jolt of heat straight to your core.

“Shit, that feels good,” he hissed as you ground your thumbs into the muscles at the base of his skull.

You leaned in so that you could place an open mouthed kiss to the skin below his ear, sinking your teeth just enough to feel his shoulders jump slightly from the sharp intake of breath he took.

“I’m sorry I made you feel upset,” your lips brushed the shell of his ear. “I really do feel guilty. The thought of you worrying about us when you should’ve been enjoying your performances really does make me feel bad.”

As you spoke, your hands moved to massage his shoulders, and your mouth began sucking lightly on the free spaces on the column of his throat.

He let out a shuddering sigh at the feeling of your warm breath fanning across his skin, his wide palms finding their way to your legs underwater and gliding up to grip the underside of your thighs--fingertips digging into the flesh almost painfully. He tilted his head to give you more access in a silent plea for more.

“Don’t feel bad. I was being stupid,” he rasped.

It was so easy to get him worked up.

Your thumbs worked their way down to his lower back, the tight knots slowly loosening. At his words, you began working at a particularly tense knot in his muscle, the pressure causing him to grunt in a cross between pain and pleasure. The steaming hot water and your massage were lulling him into a docile and relaxed version of himself--his muscular frame leaning limply against you.

“Don’t say that. You’re not stupid. Something that makes you feel upset is not stupid,” you punctuated your reassurance with a playful bite to the crook of his neck.

Your hands ghosted over the his ribs and caressed over his pecs, and you could feel his heart thrumming against your fingertips. He flinched, back arching against your front and mouth falling open in a silent moan, as you slowly raked your fingernails across his skin--making sure to pass over his sensitive nipples.

“I missed you so much. Why on Earth would I want to be with anyone else when you’re the only one who could ever make my this happy?” Your nails trailed over his hips before taking a detour just as your hands were almost right where he wanted you most--leaving bright red lines down the inside of his thighs. You rubbed gentle circles into the stony muscles, pretending that you couldn't feel them quivering under your touch.

“I couldn't ever love anyone as much as I love you,” you raked your nails back up the tender skin of his thighs and over his tanned torso until you were kneading and lightly scratching his scalp.

“Oh, god,” Jungkook breathed. “I-I love you, too.”

With his body leaning so lazily against yours, you could plainly see the way his thick length was lying against his abdomen, desperate for attention.

“I missed your laugh,” you smiled as you brushed your lips across the nape of his neck.

“I missed the way you hold me at night,” your voice trailed off for a moment as you traced your index finger down past his belly button. Jungkook sucked his lower lip between his teeth and let out a strangled groan when you lightly wrapped your fingers around his length under the rose tinted water, your thumb circling his flushed head.

“I missed your cock, too,” you whispered lowly into his ear. When you began pumping him, the shudder that wracked through him made his hips twitch involuntarily in your hand. “I missed how you fill me up. All I could think of was how you make me so wet and how easy you slide in and out of me.”

“You know teasing will have consequences, right?” he glared over his shoulder with a raised brow. “The more hell you put me through, the more I’ll throw back.”

You chuckled.

“We’ll see.”

Fingers tightening their grip around him, you began picking up your pace. Jungkook’s legs were twitching with every stroke against his dick. Bent knees parted wide and propped against the walls of the tub, sticking out of the rose scented water and shaking like two islands overcome by natural disaster. You dipped the pad of your thumb into his slit, eliciting a string of high pitched moans to rip from his throat. Your boyfriend turned his head ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of your face, and the way his blackened round eyes and flushed cheeks contrasted so much from his muscular body made you bite your lip in frustration. Is he even real?

“God, you have no idea how many nights I spent watching fancams of you performing and then fingering myself to the thought of you coming offstage all sweaty and full of adrenaline and then fucking the shit out of me in a dressing room,” you groaned. “I imagined you bending me over and pounding into me until you came inside me.”

Your core ached at your own dirty words.

“Shit, you’re gonna get it later. You fucking tease,” Jungkook whimpered and squirmed in your arms, his eyes scrunching shut.

“I thought of that almost every night,” he panted. “I would’ve told you to hold all my cum inside until we got back to the hotel so I could slide right back in and fuck you even harder until you were screaming my name.”

“Yeah?” You hummed as you began massaging his balls. Even underwater you could feel your heat getting slick from his words. “Tell me. What else did you think about?”

“Goddamn, that feels so fucking good,” he keened. His grip on your thighs was bruising, but you didn't mind the pain as long as he felt good.

“I thought about your pussy and how it looks so pretty when I eat you out,” he panted, voice wavering. “How when I spread your lips I can see how wet and shiny you are,” his mouth watered at the thought and he swallowed--adams apple bobbing under the bronze skin of his neck--before continuing.

“I woke up with so many raging boners because I dreamed about you riding my dick,” his voice was so low and fucked out and you'd barely done anything yet. As you kneaded his balls with one hand, you wrapped the fingers of your other hand around him again and focused your strokes around his engorged head.

“I got yelled at by Sejin so many times because they all thought I overslept, but really I was in my hotel room with my fingers wrapped around my cock and pretending it was that pretty mouth of yours,” his voice was a broken moan that bounced off the tiles of the bathroom.

You were nearly throbbing with every dirty thing that passed from Jungkook’s pink lips, your pumps on his dick speeding up even more. His hips jumped and he rushed to grab your wrist mid-stroke, but you persisted.

“Stop, stop, stop,” he gasped, words tumbling from his lips faster than he could sort his thoughts. “Oh, f-f-fuck. Jesus, shit, I can't wait to get payback. I'm gonna cum, fuck, I'm gonna cum, please. Wait.”

You stopped your movements in their tracks with a wicked grin. Jungkook wheezed out a dazed chuckle and limply laid his head back against your shoulder--eyes glazed over and thighs quivering. He ran his hand over his face and laughed harder.

“It’s been three months since I’ve had something besides my own hand, okay? I’m not gonna last long.”

“You wanna go to the bedroom?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

“Fuck yes.”

Within seconds, you’d lifted the stopper from the drain to let the luke-warm water begin to swirl away. Jungkook grabbed a couple of towels for the two of you from underneath the sink. His sure hands tried securing the soft material around his hips, but the way his stone hard cock was bobbing heavy between his thighs proved the task to be impossible. When you laughed at the look on his face as his towel fell away, he thumped you on the nose and snatched the other towel from your fingers to dab away the excess water from your body. As he dried you off, you marvelled at how beautiful he was.

Anyone with eyes could see that his face was some sort of ethereal beauty. His round doe eyes that seemed to glitter in the dark, the curve of his unique nose, his pouty lower lip. Even the pink acne scars that littered his cheeks were gorgeous in your eyes. The way his lips pulled over his teeth when he smiled with his whole face was breathtaking, and the crinkles that formed at the corners of his eyes tugged at your heart. Millions of others agreed with you, too.

But what very few others knew was that although Jeon Jungkook had a beautiful face, he also had the body of a fucking god.

It was obvious that he had a good body from the way his skinny jeans hugged his ridiculously muscular thighs and the way the silky shirts he wore on stage clung to his pronounced pecs. There was no denying that he was blessed from the way he looked in the custom-tailored suits that they wore to award shows, with the width of his broad shoulders highlighted and his long legs seeming to go on for miles. But truly, you just didn’t know how gorgeous of a body Jungkook had until he was naked.

And that’s exactly what you were having the chance to soak in for the first time in three whole months.

The way his glowing honey skin shimmered with untouched water droplets under the fluorescent lights of the bathroom made your heart stutter in your chest. Your mouth went dry at the rippling muscles just beneath the surface, only to be flooded with saliva embarrassingly fast over the way his abdomen lead to his long, thick member in the form of V lines that were as deep as valleys. The way that his thighs were so muscular that you could see every single muscle group contracting as he was crouched at your feet was hypnotizing. The veins that snaked around his hands and forearms were paths that you eyes couldn’t not follow.

Jeon Jungkook in his entirety was sex on legs, to put it frankly.

While drying you off, his eyes were focused and deep in thought as he worked the towel over you--dropping to his knees to dry your legs. His patting slowed and he raised his dark eyes to look at you. For a moment he said nothing, just staring at your face with a warm smile playing on the corner of his lips. As if pulled from a trance, he ran his hands up your legs and placed a feather light kiss against the soft skin of your inner thigh.

“You're beautiful,” he stated matter-of-factly as he knelt against the bathroom floor. Even after almost a year, his cheeks still tinted pink after giving you compliments.

He turned his attention back to your thighs, his gaze turning dark.

“God, your legs…”

As if he was unable to stop himself, he began leaving a trail of slow kisses across the sensitive flesh--muttering almost unintelligible praises of “So fucking gorgeous. Perfect. So soft.” into your skin. Your heart was hammering erratically inside your chest, the tickling of the ends of his chestnut and pink hair brushing over your flesh making heat bloom in your lower stomach. He paused just before he reached your core, his wide eyes flicking up to meet yours. A devilish smirk quirked up one corner of his mouth.

“I can’t wait to taste you, baby,” his voice was teasing, though still rough from earlier.

Jungkook reconnected his lips to the skin below your belly button before he began working his tongue in a thick stripe from your navel, up your abdomen, to the valley between your breasts. Hunched over and biting a trail of bruises that you could feel blooming under the surface of your cleavage, he moved up to kiss the unblemished skin of your throat. Your fingers wound themselves in his hair to anchor yourself to him. When you couldn’t hold back the whimper that escaped your lips as he sank his teeth a little deeper, his warm tongue swept over the wound to massage out the sting. Wide palms were everywhere on you, long fingers digging into you and fingernails leaving faint crescent moons in their wake.

His ministrations were harsh and desperate, like the taste of your skin on his tongue was bringing out the animalistic and carnal side to him. Toned arms wrapped themselves around your torso and pulled you damn near suffocatingly close, and the heat and intensity of the moment had you rolling your hips against the muscular thigh that had wedged itself between your legs. Jungkook didn’t fail to notice the feeling of your slick heat desperately searching for some form of relief against him.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he moaned into the crook of your neck.

“I need you,” he brushed his lips across your jaw and kissed you roughly, not hesitating to lick into the heat of your mouth and steal your breath away. “Right. Now.”

In a flash, his palms made their way to the backs of your thighs, quick swats against the skin as a sign to jump. Your arms tightened their grip around his shoulders and you hopped up to weave your legs around his waist. The way his tip was teasing your entrance had you writhing in his grip and keening his name. The two of you were a tangle of love and lust, too caught up in each other to care that you were blindly stumbling towards the bed and nearly toppled over two separate times.

With a sharp bite to your bottom lip, he tossed you onto your queen sized bed. Jungkook leaned over your frame and pressed a fleeting peck to the corner of your mouth. Your body was flushed--the dire need for him to kiss you more, to eat you out, fuck you, anything, was heating you up from the inside out. His warm brown eyes glimmered mischievously as he wrapped your legs around him.

He pinned your hands above your head and kissed your forehead.

“Tell me what you want,” he ground his member against your heat.

The way your back arched to press your chest into him and the loud gasp that escaped your lips made your cheeks burn in embarrassment. You tried to hide your face in your shoulder.

“Baby,” Jungkook taunted, “you weren’t shy when you were teasing me and saying all those filthy things.”

He ground into you again.

“Tell me what you want,” your arms strained against his hold against them, but he was adamant. The frustrated groan that rumbled in your chest made him smirk. “I told you! Whatever teasing you put me through, I was going to make it even harder for you.”

You rolled your eyes, the action taking a drastic turn from sarcasm to arousal as he moved one hand down your body until he was trailing his fingertip along your heat.

“F-fuck, Jungkook,” you whimpered. “I want your mouth. Please.”

“Hm? I don't think I quite understand,” his lips skimmed over your chest until his tongue was swirling around your nipple. He lightly nipped the pert bud with his teeth. “Do you want my mouth here?”

You squirmed against his hold on you, the pleasure making it feel like your skin was carrying an electric current. You laughed bitterly.

“You know what I mean!”

The dark amusement pooling in your boyfriend’s coffee colored eyes flickered like a candle flame. You both loved a good power struggle, and having you fighting against his demands was riling him up to the point of depravity.

“But? I just don't think I do? You'll have to be more specific, babe,” he harshly rolled your nipple between his teeth as his nimble fingers began circling your clit.

“Goddamn, fuck, shit, fuck you, you sadistic bastard,” you half growled and half laughed. “Fuck. Fine! I want your mouth on my pussy.”

He beamed down at your burning face before placing a gentle peck against your kiss-bitten lips.

“Good girl.”

Within seconds, he was crawling his way down your body and leaving wet open mouthed kisses along the way. The trail of kisses glimmered in the low lighting of your bedroom, the wetness cooling and sending chills down your spine. When he got to your core, he had your legs thrown over his shoulders. You whimpered needily below him as he nipped and sucked at the juncture of your upper thigh and pushed your knees apart. Using his thumbs, Jungkook separated your lower lips to have better access to your wet heat.

“Just as pretty as I remembered,” he hummed. The feeling of his warm breath fanning out across your entrance made your hips jump off the bed, but he was quick to push them back down.

Without wasting any time with teasing kitten licks, he licked a thick stripe from your entrance to your throbbing clit.

“God, you taste so good,” he groaned into you, the vibrations making you bite your lip.

Unfazed by the chorus of broken moans spilling from your mouth, he repeated the action again and again until your fingers laced themselves in his hair. With just his tongue and teeth, Jungkook sucked and licked and nibbled until your legs were shaking and the sound of your panting filled the room. You were so, so close to cumming. The familiar heat was searing and ready to bubble over inside you. You were standing with your toes dangling off the edge, you just needed to jump.

Noticing the way you were grasping for anything within reach, he pulled his lips away from your center and began leaving feather light kisses on the inside of your thighs. You could feel his cheeks raise into a smug grin as you let out a frustrated groan.

“You're so evil!” you whined.

He pulled his mouth away from sucking a purple mark on your hip.

“Where's the fun in just letting you cum?” he practically sang. The enraged and desperate glare you threw his way made him throw his head back and laugh loudly.

“Fine, you can do whatever you want to me after this. I’ll let you have your way with me. Just let me have my fun,” he slid a finger inside you. “It's been a long time since I got to make you feel good, and I wanna make it worth the wait.”

With the new sensation of his finger as well as the sweet tone of his voice, there was really no way you could deny him the privilege. You decided not to bring up the fact that he said he would let you do whatever you wanted to him--even though you knew he would be begging you to suck him off as soon as you came on his fingers.

You propped yourself up on your elbows to get a better view of him between your legs.

He slowly pumped his finger in and out of you, his tongue teasingly flicking over your clit. The feeling was heavenly and magnified by ten from you ruined orgasm. As your eyes drank in the sight of him diligently working to stretch you out, he inserted a second finger. Your head lolled back against your shoulders and you let out a hiss as he curled his digits inside you and began sucking on your clit. Jungkook’s eyes snapped to your face to gauge your reaction.

“That feels so good,” you moaned lowly and carded your fingers through his hair to push it off his sweaty forehead.

His eyes lit up and he increased his pace. He continued lapping at your folds, his warm tongue making your toes curl. When his fingers grazed that one particular spot inside you, the pleasure was so overwhelming that your arms gave out beneath you. Lewd sounds of him slurping your juices only heightened your arousal. The way you were writhing and crying out his name made Jungkook’s already painfully hard length twitch. As you bucked your hips against his face, he couldn't help but roll his hips into the mattress in search of friction.

“Please let me cum this time,” you could barely recognize your own voice, the neediness evident with each syllable.

The heat in your lower belly was so white hot and searing that your whole body was shivering in anticipation. Every muscle was coiled and taut, so, so desperate for release.

Instead of answering you verbally, Jungkook simply quickened his movements. Wet squelching sounds rang out through the bedroom as his fingers worked at unimaginable speeds. Sweat was dripping down the sides of his face and pooling in the dimples at the bottom of his spine as he focused every bit of his energy on sending you over the edge. Every flick of his tongue and fingers brought you hurdling closer to your release. It wasn't until he slipped a third finger inside you that your orgasm came crashing over you in waves.

The pleasure was so intense that your vision blurred and your body seized up as he continued to ride you through your high. Involuntarily, your hips began to grind against his face--the sensation too overwhelming for you to sit still. Your knuckles were white as your fisted the sheets in a desperate attempt to ground yourself.

When you were too sensitive, you swatted Jungkook away with weak hands.

“Holy shit,” you panted. “You'd think after three months you would've lost your touch.”

Jungkook sat up on his knees, sweaty and struggling to catch his breath. He grabbed the corner of the sheet and wiped his cheeks and chin that were glistening with your arousal.

“You have such little faith in me,” he smirked as he lowered himself to hover over you again. He connected your lips in a lazy kiss, the taste of your heat still overwhelming on his tongue. You loosely wrapped your arms around his neck.

“There must be another woman,” you sarcastically teased, your words muffled by his lips. “I mean, if you maintained your skillset for that long without any practice, that would be quite impressive.”

Jungkook grinned into the kiss.

“Damn, I told Bertha you wouldn’t find out.”

You snorted.

“She sounds lovely,” you lightly pushed his shoulder to lay him on his back. “Sit on the edge of the bed.”

“Hmm, what do you have in store for me?” he suggestively wiggled his eyebrows as he readjusted himself, and you rolled your eyes. “You can’t blame me for being curious.”

You locked eyes with him, the mood suddenly growing heavy with sexual tension. You placed your hands on his knees and lowered yourself in between them, never breaking his gaze. All hints of teasing were completely wiped away from Jungkook’s face, instead being replaced by desire. His pink tongue ran over his bottom lip, the sight of you sinking on your knees for him making a fire grow in his belly. You began leaving dark hickeys along the insides of his thighs, your eyes still locked on his. With every nip of your teeth against his flesh, his muscles tensed and he let out hisses of pain and quiet grunts.

“You did say that I could have my way with you, correct?” you slid your palms up his thighs.

He swallowed at the intensity of your predatory gaze.

“Something along those lines,” he murmured, his breath hitching as you dragged tip of your tongue along the underside of his balls.

You slipped one of them into your mouth and massaged it with your tongue. Jungkook sighed and ran his fingers through your hair, his eyes rolling back into his head and his mouth falling open in a silent moan. When you switched to the other side, Jungkook wrapped his fingers around his cock and slowly began pumping himself, the veins in his hand straining against the skin. The way you were peeking at him through your lashes made his balls tighten and his dick twitch, and you could feel it on your tongue. You let him fall from your lips and sat up a little taller, your fingers wrapping around his wrist.

“Let me take care of you, babe,” your voice was sweet and so was your smile, but Jungkook knew that gleaming look in your eye. “It’s Saturday, and I've already pampered myself today. Now it's your turn.”

He bit back a smirk because he knew he was in for torture, but he also knew he told you that you could take the reins.

You took his length in your hand and began leaving open mouthed kisses along the burning skin. When you got to his head, you placed a lingering kiss there before glancing back up at him and muttering a faint “I love you” and taking his tip in your mouth and sucking lightly. The salty tang of precum pooled on your tastebuds and spurred you on to swirl your tongue around him inside your mouth. Jungkook threw his head back and groaned, the sound low and broken. He tried to return the sentiment, but the only thing he could do was moan as you began bobbing your head with hollowed cheeks--sinking lower on him with every pull.

He reached down to gather your hair into a ponytail at the back of your head, but you quickly disconnected yourself from him--your hand taking the place of your mouth as it ran over his cock that was slick with your spit.

“No touching. Hands to yourself,” you glared. Jungkook awkwardly placed his hands in fists at his sides, a sheen of sweat glistening on his brow.

“Oh, come on--”

“Need I remind you of your own words? Anything I wanted?” you quirked an eyebrow at him before dropping your jaw and sinking down as far as you could on him, your nose brushing the smooth skin below his navel where his faint happy trail would be if he didn't shave it. You struggled, a gag choking you and making your throat contract sinfully around his dick.

He ran his fingers through his hair and over his face, the sweaty locks sticking up every which way.

“Oh, god,” he rasped, his voice cracking.

Your eyes were watering and your lungs were burning and desperate for air, so you pulled back off him with your tongue pressed against the underside of his cock. When you sank back down again, the high pitched moan that was ripped from Jungkook’s throat made your core throb. When your nose brushed his abdomen again, you wasted no time before bringing your fingers up to massage his balls and swallowing around him. His thighs were shaking and twitching on either side of you more and more with every passing second. You let him fall from you with a lewd pop and pulled yourself off the floor.

Jungkook opened his eyes, his pupils were dilated so much that you couldn't even see the warm brown of his irises. His eyes were so dark that they were black holes, and you were seconds away getting sucked in. His bottom lip was swollen and red from how it was abused between his teeth as you sucked him off. Still between his knees, you placed your hands on either side of his face and pulled him into a lingering kiss before lightly shoving him flat on his back.

Without a word, you turned around so that your back was facing him. You backed up so that your ass was pressed against him, his member resting between your cheeks. You used his strong thighs for support as you began grinding into him, and you glanced at Jungkook over your shoulder--the sight pulling a sharp intake of breath from him. With every roll of your hips, you spread your slick juices across his shaft, the feeling making him feel like he could cum just from that. You halted your movements and readjusted yourself to reach around to align him with your entrance.

When you eased back onto him, there was a brief second of silence as both you were too stunned from the feeling to react. It had been three whole months since you had felt that full. You felt Jungkook's hands running themselves over the surface of your spine as you let out a shaky sigh.

“You okay?” he forced out, the strain to keep from thrusting into you almost too much for him.

“Y-yeah. I just didn’t remember you being this big,” you bit your lip as you continued easing onto him until he was hilt deep inside of you.

“I'm insulted--” his words were cut off into a hiss as you began swiveling your hips in small figure eights. “Oh, fuck, you look so sexy like this.”

Gripping his knees so tight that your fingertips were drained of color, you continued rolling and grinding your hips in slow and deliberate movements. The feeling of him so deep inside you was something you fantasized about often while he was away, and now that he was home, you couldn't say you were disappointed in the least. You let out a yelp as Jungkook slapped your ass so hard that it echoed throughout the room.

“Faster,” he croaked.

You immediately obeyed, too fucked out to care who was in charge anymore. With every roll of your hips, he was hitting you hard and deep--the sinful feeling making you cry out. You could feel every ridge on him as he slid in and out of you, his tip massaging your clenching walls. After a moment, Jungkook spanked you once again on the opposite cheek, his warm palm immediately running over the reddening skin to soothe the pain.

“Baby, turn around. I want to see your face while you ride me,” his voice had dropped an octave and you'd be lying if you said it wasn't incredibly sexy.

Doing as you were told, you turned around as he scooted the two of you backwards until he was laid back against the pillows. You leaned down to press your chest to Jungkook’s and connect your lips in a deep kiss as you sank down on his cock again. His hot length fit snugly inside you, your walls hugging every curve of his member. With a sigh, you righted yourself and placed your palms flat against his toned chest to balance as you began raising and dropping yourself on his dick. The speed had your thighs burning, but the feeling of Jungkook’s cock hitting every single spot inside your pussy was outweighing any sort of discomfort.

Jungkook’s warm hands gripped your stinging ass and kneaded the aching flesh as you bounced on him, the pleasure making his breath come out in ragged huffs. The wild and feral look in his eyes was so dark that you felt mildly intimidated.

Jungkook was very close to blowing his load before he was ready--all because you were just so goddamn sexy. The way your eyes fluttered shut with every brush of his tip against your g-spot and the bright pink flush of your cheeks was captivatingly beautiful to him. You were so tight and wet as you clenched around him, so much tighter than he remembered, and it had him gritting his teeth in an attempt to keep from cumming before you. He moved his hands from your ass to your breasts and began running his thumbs lightly over your hardened nipples. The feeling only added to your pleasure, and you were soon racing towards your second high.

Feeling you tightening around him, Jungkook sat up and wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, his mouth sucking and biting at your neck and chest. You snaked your arms around his shoulders and buried your face in his neck, the hot puffs of your breath against his skin making goosebumps rise across the expanse of his flesh. It was impossible to tell where one of you ended and the other began, your bodies pressed so tightly to each other that you may as well have been one being. The only sounds in the whole apartment were the sounds of your ass slapping his thighs and your mingled moans that were getting louder and less composed with every passing moment.

“Jungkook,” you whimpered, “I'm so close--”

“Me too, baby, just a little bit more, yeah?” he was desperately trying to thrust and meet your halfway, but the way you both were positioned was all wrong.

Your boyfriend suddenly fell back into the mattress--arms still tightly wound around you--and bent his knees to force you to lay against his chest. His skin was searing hot and sticky with sweat, his breaths heaving. Then he was thrusting wildly into you, digging his heels into the mattress and using his strong legs to desperately chase both of your releases. His hips were a blur and his grip around you was so tight that it was a little hard to breathe, but within seconds the constant stimulation of your clit and the way his hips roughly met yours sent you hurdling over the edge.

The familiar tightness exploded inside you, and you couldn't stop the string of curses and high pitched moans that came out of your mouth as your muscles contracted around him. The sensation of him being inside for the first time in so long was too much, and you almost couldn't take it as he continued to thrust into you.

Jungkook began letting out strangled moans of your name, his brows furrowed and his back nearly arching off the bed. The feeling of your tight pussy and the sounds of you whimpering and gasping for him had Jungkook spilling his load inside you within minutes with a grunt. His hips were snapping into yours, erratic and unsteady, his hot cum filling you in spurts. His movements stalled for a split second before he was rolling his hips into yours again to ride out his high, his breath coming out in pants against the top of your head.

When you were both spent and boneless, his length still softening inside you, Jungkook pressed his lips to your temple--warm breaths fanning across your skin. He wove his fingers between your own and let out a deep sigh.

“Oh my god, I think I'm in love with you,” he joked, exhaustion heavy in his voice.

“Oh really? Just now you realized?” you mumbled.

He chuckled and dusted a series of light pecks across your cheek.

“That was so hot,” he marveled halfway to himself and lazily threw an arm over his eyes. He grinned slyly and peeked down at you lying on his chest. “You came so hard. Twice.”

“I'll have to send Bertha a fruit basket or something,” your eyes were heavy with sleep. “I love you, Jungkook. Don't forget.”

He smiled into your hair.

“How could I ever?”

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