#I had potential… I just don’t know where it went
flufftober - day 16
Falling Asleep Together
Rudy Pankow x female!Reader
flufftober 2021 masterlist
The actors that played the Pogues had just wrapped their scenes for the day. It was becoming dark and the directors wanted to continue and shoot some night scenes with the Kooks, dismissing the other cast members.
Rudy had joined (y/n) for a snack trip before going to their trailers and get changed into their own clothes, intending to get comfy, meet Chase, Madison and JD and potentially go and try to watch their fellow friends shoot their scenes.
“Housekeeping!” a knock on her door was followed by the famous line, letting her know who the person behind it was without even needing to ask.
“Coming, Pankow!” she answered, finishing pulling down her hoodie. Or was it his? she asked herself.
(y/n) remembered her first day on the table reading, she and Rudy showed up wearing equal hoodies and their first interaction was pointing at each other while laughing. They bonded very quickly, and when the cast went to have dinner that night it felt like the two had known each other for years. They had been partners in crime ever since and would often joke about how they always manage to wear the same hoodie at the same time, even mixing it a few times, and if it wasn’t for his characteristic cologne and her favorite perfume, they probably wouldn’t even notice. What people didn’t know was that most of the time, when that happened, they wouldn’t switch hoodies, for an unspeakable reason between the two they enjoyed having the wrong piece of clothing, that felt more right than anything.
(y/n) opened the door of her trailer and stepped outside, too busy tying her hair in a bun to notice Rudy’s oh so familiar outfit.
“Again?” she exasperated, chuckling.
“Wow.” he laughed too while bringing the collar up to his nose and giving the fabric a sniff, “At this point I can’t even tell if this is mine or yours.”
She did the same to try and solve the mystery but the boy stepped closer and leaned down over her collarbone, distracting her from her goal. He sniffed the hoodie and stepped aside almost as quickly
“Ok, no, yup, that one is definitely mine.” he tugged at her sleeve while she was still trying to process how close she felt him a few seconds prior.
“Wanna switch?” she finally got herself to think straight.
“Nah. Unless you do?”
“No, it’s fine.”
“Shall we go then?” he asked, with a british accent and then bent his arm so she could cross hers with it.
“We shall, mister.”
The scene about to be filmed was inside the Cameron’s house, which was a delight for Rudy and (y/n) because they could sit and chill on one of the couches in the back that was discarded in the beginning of filming that season and that no one had bothered to move it yet.
“Where are the others?” she asked, as she sat down, followed by Rudy.
“I don’t know, they said they would meet us here.”
“JD’s probably at craft services.”
The boy laughed.
“Oh for sure.”
They watched the crew get the set ready as they talked with Drew and Charles that had approached them while they waited for their time to shoot, and when that time finally arrived, the set fell into silence aside from the actors who were now in action. It was a tough scene, it was noticeable they would take a long time to get it.
Almost an hour and half had passed when (y/n) started to feel her eyelids getting heavy and her brain was having trouble processing the things happening around her from how tired it was. During that time, Rudy and her had made themselves as comfortable as possible on the couch, that usually meant getting close and cozy, leaning against each other. It wasn’t an unusual thing to catch the two snuggling together, but it never became less amusing nor heartwarming for their friends to witness. It was no secret that Rudy and (y/n) were the tightest pair of the whole group but it was almost painful to see how they were so oblivious to how their friendship was seen from outside. No one could look at them and not say they didn’t at least have a crush on each other, there was just no way they could at one another the way they did and have no deeper feelings there. It seemed the two were the only ones who were blind to that and the cast was constantly trying to make them open their eyes.
(y/n)’s head ended up falling on Rudy’s shoulder, slightly drifting into his chest. Rudy was pretty tired too and his sleepiness was closer than he had planned, so he didn’t bother to move, only got more comfortable and moved his arm to wrap it around the girl, who was already breathing deeply.
The two were found completely whipped out and cuddling by the late cast members.
“I’m gonna throw up, this is too cute for me to handle.” Madison commented hushly, looking at them with loving eyes.
“Take a picture.”
“Beat you to it.” Madelyn answered JD, her phone capturing multiple pictures of the sleeping bodies on the couch.
They tried to ignore their friends, even though their brains were way too tired to even retain any conversation they could hear. They were more focused on the warmth they were providing each other and how their scents would for sure get confused, then more than ever, when trying to figure out which hoodie was whom.
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it’s anthony mackie o’clock, please bear with me. (long post).
(again, i mean no disrespect or hate towards any of the white actors and actresses in tfatws, including sebastian stan!!)
but i was reading through the interview that anthony mackie gave for variety magazine (2021) and there was one thing he said that, in light of recent comments and takes i have seen regarding the unequal consideration of sebastian stan and anthony mackie’s acting and characters in tfatws, really resonated with me.
this? this is awful. this quote shows that not only does anthony mackie know that he is viewed in this light by critics and fans of the white actors whose fame he watched from the sidelines, it shows that this is normal for him.
anthony mackie is so used to being sidelined and looked over that it is normal for him to feel like that.
anthony mackie went to juilliard. juilliard. the legendary performing arts school. he worked his way through project after project, was forced to watch his white costars’ celebrity rise from the sidelines of many of them, but kept acting and taking projects that were important to him (ie. the banker, shelter, detroit, the hate u give). he is a very talented actor with excellent range, an actor who tries to understand every character he portrays and works to the peak of his ability to play them accurately.
and it is evident that in the mcu, in the case of sam wilson, he has done a fantastic job.
he took mcu sam wilson from a potentially two-dimensional cap sidekick to having a personality highly suggestive of the fleshed out, opinionated, reckless hero that he is in the comics, and that portrayal likely would not have come through in ca:tws and beyond from a lesser actor.
mackie has also mentioned in interviews that one of his greatest concerns is that of the success of tfatws, because he has felt that if the show flops greatly the marvel executives are going to see his casting as nothing more than a mistake.
that is also heartbreaking. he has done nothing to deserve feeling like that, yet he is so used to being kept in the shadows that that is honestly how he feels about his first lead in a major franchise.
so i hope i don’t see everyone talking solely about sebastian stan’s acting. and completely glossing over the fact that even from the trailers and clips, anthony mackie has had a magnanimous presence in the show and in the story.
because that is already, unfortunately, happening.
this goes back to what some people had mentioned on my previous post that i had noticed as well, where. it was sebastian stan’s tag trending after the big tfatws content day, while mackie’s was not.
that’s absurd. mackie is the other lead of this show, not even cast in a side role this time, and he is still being sidelined by fans in favour of yet another white man. and sebastian is an excellent actor in his own right, yes, but nothing warrants ignoring anthony mackie’s presence in the show, as he is the other lead.
as fans, we have the ability and therefore the responsibility to make this the show where mackie can have faith that he truly is a main character and the lead in what is going to be a very successful tv show, not just a prop for yet another white man.
we have the power to do that.
and mackie damn well deserves it.
i yield my time once more. <3
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—hot boy bummer. (m)
⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader
⟶ genre: fuckboy!jungkook / friends with benefits / friends to lovers + smut
⟶ words: 14,633
⟶ rating: 18+
⟶ summary: when jungkook offers you a proposition of just sex, no strings attached, how can you possibly say no? after all, what are best friends for?
⟶ warnings: kind of a crack fic, sprinkle of angst, way too casual conversations mid-sex, jealous jungkook, slight himbo jungkook tbh (he’s kind of a sweet loveable idiot), he also has a big dick oops, man bun and blonde jungkook to feed my fantasies!, multiple smut scenes!!!, missionary, dry humping, oral sex (m receiving), face fucking, unprotected sex, slight degradation (mostly jungkook hating himself), brief name calling, light choking, sort of praise kink
⟶ note: this was inspired by a number of things but mainly do me by kim petras being on jungkook’s spotify playlist, this tiktok sound, and this tumblr post lol also big thank you to @bratkook and @onherwings for letting me ramble on about this fic and reigniting my inspo for it 💛
( p.s. i tried to proofread this but if y’all see any typos no u didn’t, thank u <3 )
Being friends with Jungkook meant a myriad of things but mainly that there were hardly ever any boundaries that stood between you and him.
Having known him for most of your life, it was just a quintessential part of yours and his relationship with one another. From high school parties where you drunkenly spewed on his shoes and in his dad’s car after he tried lugging you home (and taking the fall all himself for your sake) to letting him lose his virginity in your bed to some girl you didn’t know because your parents were out of town and his would crucify him on the spot if they had found out; or him discovering your stash of vibrators in your dorm one day, or seeing each other naked more often than was probably necessary, there was nothing that either of you could do that would phase the other at this point even when it maybe, probably, definitely should.
College, and Jungkook’s sudden six pack of hard rock abs, only seemed to amplify the chaos of your friendship. If you’re being honest, the abs are sort of a plus ━ but they brought an air of fuckboy to him that is undeniably there even if he tries to deny it sometimes. You suppose it isn’t all his fault. Jungkook has always been bold and brash, attractively charming. Considering he’s seemingly made it his mission to sleep with every girl on campus before he graduates (undisclosed, if you’re being honest, because he’s never outwardly admitted it but you have a hunch), his confidence somehow hasn’t failed him yet.
But then there’s one night in which you think to yourself briefly: this surely must draw some sort of line.
“What if we, like, had sex?”
Jungkook says this a little too casually from beside you. He’s sat on the couch in his dorm, scrolling aimlessly on his phone, and you’re sprawled out on the remaining space, feet kicked up in his lap. You’re positive he’s drunk but, then again, so are you. The remnant shot glasses of soju you had both started the night with (though you think Jungkook’s had half the bottle himself), and your second glass of wine, are all evidence of that. You’re so absorbed by some anime Jungkook had been watching upon your arrival and refused to change that you almost don’t hear what he says. Almost. You do, however, nearly choke on the gummy bear you’ve just tossed into your mouth.
After a sudden hysterical fit of coughs, you manage to sputter, “Excuse me?”
“Like, hypothetically speaking.” He hardly budges when you turn to gawk at him, as if he’s asking you something as casual as what to eat for dinner or if you could pass him the T.V. remote. “Except, not really hypothetically.”
“You’re joking, right?” You scoff.
Jungkook blinks. “No. Why would I be joking?”
You blink. The longer you stare at him, the quicker you’re able to discern that there’s some sort of earnesty in his words and it slightly concerns you. Suddenly, you’re warm in the face. To distract from that painfully obvious fact, an incredulous laugh bubbles at your lips and you kick one of your feet at his thighs. “Very funny, Koo. Can we change the show now if you’re not even watching it?”
“I’m not joking, Y/N.” The severity in his tone makes you sit up at once. When you turn to look at him, he flashes you a taunting smirk, though the devious sparkle in his eyes lets you know this seems to be anything but a joke to him. “I’m sure you’ve thought of me naked before.”
“You’re such a fucking idiot━” Okay, so maybe you have thought of him naked before but how is it your fault when you literally have seen him naked before, and he’s so unabashed around you? “Should I bring you to a hospital to get your head checked, or━?”
“Just hear me out━” Now, he pushes himself to the edge of the sofa. “Why are you here right now?”
“In life? Because I honestly have no clue━”
“No, I meant here. Getting drunk in my apartment on a Friday night instead of getting railed.”
“Okay, I didn’t ask to get called out like that,” You grumble stiffly. “And because you’re my best friend, and I like spending time with you.” It’s not entirely a lie, because you would much rather spend time with Jungkook than anyone else. But when you feel his eyes boring into you in a look of scrutiny, your lips form into a pout which you try to hide by puckering them. “Also because boys are stupid and Hoseok’s blind date stood me up. Again.”
The events from hours earlier resurface in your memory, in which you had spent all evening making yourself look pretty for a boy you had only talked to through text that your roommate had introduced you to, only to arrive to the restaurant you were supposed to be meeting at and waiting there for half an hour by yourself before the boy had sent you a message saying something along the lines of “something came up, hope we can reschedule,” filing it under one of the lamest excuses you’ve ever heard because it hardly even borders on a valid excuse. It’s what had ultimately made you storm into Jungkook’s apartment an hour ago, exclaiming aloud as a greeting with a simple yet scarily cheerful I hate men! because Jungkook knows all about your plights with finding a significant other (or even just someone decent enough to open your legs to), usually lamenting men’s inability to have any emotions. Even the ones who you think are respectable enough, who say they’re fine not having sex on the first date, usually tend to flee right after you finally let them in because sex, as you come to find, seems to be all that men care about.
Admittedly, Jungkook is not any different.
“But it’s not like you’re any better.”
This seems to personally offend Jungkook. He looks at you cynically. “Me?”
“Tell me why you’re here with me on a Friday night when you’re literally one of the hottest guys on campus,” You point out. “You can get any girl, and yet you somehow manage to ruin it every single time. Like with Eunha.”
Jungkook winces. The poor Eunha in question is a pretty girl from your chem class, whomst Jungkook had somehow managed to charm. From what you know, they had hooked up a handful of times before that fateful night in which Jungkook had abruptly broken things off with her. If you’re being honest, he’s not a total monster. The only thing that seems to scare him away is when a girl asks to cuddle him in the morning or talks about the prospective future together. He doesn’t want to hurt them, he told you once before, and finds it much easier to nip any potential relationship in the bud before it can get too far, too out of control.
“We literally only slept together three times anyway and we never went out,” Jungkook points out. “What’s the big deal?”
A roll of your eyes doesn’t go unnoticed by Jungkook. “Yeah, it’s not her fault you’re scared of commitment.”
“Nu’uh,” The boy sulks. “I’m only scared of realistic things, like microwaves.”
A snort bubbles at your lips, and it’s frustrating how adorable he finds the simple action. Rather than entertain the thought of his irrational fear of kitchen appliances (because you’ve heard it all before, and you still can’t find where he was incited with the terror of an exploding microwave), you sit up.
“Jungkook, I don’t even like you like that.”
“I don’t like you like that either. That’s why it’s so perfect!” Jungkook says brightly. “Look, we know each other better than anyone else ever could. We’re already comfortable with each other. We don’t have to go through all that boring small talk. All I’m saying is we could give it a try. No relationship, no emotions, just sex.”
You consider the thought for a moment, weigh the pros and cons in your head.
The cons? He’s your best friend.
The pros? He’s your best friend, and he’s hot.
Truthfully, your slightly buzzed mind can find very little to dissuade you away from the inviting proposition and maybe that’s why you begin to entertain the idea. And, sure, you had just complained profusely about how men sometimes only used you for sex, but it’s not like you don’t have needs too. You just don’t have the gusto in you anymore to spend days on a boy who will only just leave you the moment you let him have sex with you. At least with Jungkook, he’s already offering you a blatant deal of sex only and you know you won’t have to worry about him breaking your heart; and he doesn’t have to worry about the dreaded dreamy post-sex cuddle talk of a future family and babies and a white picket-fence home. It’s a win-win for the both of you, really. Or maybe you’re just telling yourself that.
“How would we even start?” You ask finally. “I mean… Do you even find me attractive enough in that way?”
“Yeah.” Jungkook hardly bats a lash. He meets your stare, licks slowly at his lower lip. When he sees the cross look of disbelief scrunching at your face, he hastens to respond. “I’m not blind. You’re fucking drop dead gorgeous, Y/N.”
“But physically attractive? I’m no hot girl Eunha.”
“If I wanted Eunha, I’d be between her legs right now. Y/N, of course I think you’re attractive.” A gentle sliver of a smile dances upon his lips. He leans his head on the back of the couch, eyes fluttering over your appearance shortly. “I’ve always liked your lips, and your eyes. Think they’re beautiful.”
Suddenly, you’re flustered again. The room feels as if it’s getting increasingly warmer, yet you seem to want to bask in the feeling and attention a little longer. “That’s too sentimental.”
“It’s true though.”
“Well, you’re lucky I’ve always had a thing for idiots,” You jest playfully. “Jerks, too. Playboys who are too hot for their own good.”
“Ah, and I love it when you talk dirty to me.” A cheeky grin tugs at his lips as he clutches at his heart over his chest. “It’s a good thing I like it a little too much, knowing you’ll always keep me in check.”
But then the mirth seems to fade from your mind long enough for you to hum aloud pensively, “And I’ve always liked your eyes. I’ve never seen such big eyes before. Sometimes, if I look long enough, it’s like I can see the stars in them.”
As you’re speaking about them, his irises glisten magnificently. He bites at his lip now, as if to hide the way his soft smile turns sheepish. “I like your bum.”
“Really? I always worry it’s too flat.”
“Are you kidding? Your ass is a fucking god-send. It’s hard not to stare when you wear leggings sometimes,” Jungkook admits, earning a small giggle from you. “And I like your boobs. I’ve always wondered…” He trails off abruptly, shaking his head. He shoots you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop. I’m being an idiot, aren’t I?”
“Well, maybe I don’t want you to stop.”
Silence saturates the room now, settling comfortably between the two of you. He wonders what you’re thinking, and you wonder if he can hear your heart hammering against your chest. Perhaps on any other day when you were of sound mind, you could find a plethora of reasons as to why sleeping with your best friend was a terrible idea. But being that you were slightly tipsy, and Jungkook isn’t far off, you can find not one fault, except for maybe how tragically hot Jungkook looks sitting across from you and how he’s never been yours, at least in that way. Would it be so wrong to try just once?
You shift then, pushing yourself to your knees if only so you can worm your way towards him before swinging one leg over his. You settle back on his lap, hands gripping his shoulders. He can feel your core press against the inside of his thigh, just where his dick is nestled and he has to bite back a moan. His eyes are wider than usual, as if believing the moment to be surreal, though something sultry threatens to darken them.
The excitement crackles through your veins like electricity. You’ve never been in such a compromising position with Jungkook before, and you wonder if it should be concerning just how much you’re enjoying it. It almost feels as if time slows down, every second dragging on, yet he can’t look away. His hands come to tug at your hoodie (that he’s almost positive was his once upon a time before you nicked it from his closet) and you meet him part way, replacing his efforts as you pull it up and off your body. Then, you’re sitting back on his lap in your full nude glory, chest bare and right in his face. He eyes the swell of your breasts, the perk of your nipples. Of course you’re not wearing anything beneath your hoodie ━ and, god, he loves it.
Your voice comes to him in an almost dream. You reach for his hand then, your palm soft around his knuckles and the tattoos that ink his skin. It’s the same hand of which he wears the other half to your pair of friendship bracelets in one of his favourite colours of red, decorated with little pink hearts. It came in a matching set of two (yours in your own favourite colour, currently on the wrist of the hand you’re using to guide Jungkook’s), cute little macrame braid ones with hearts woven into the design that you had pointed out one day while you were both at the mall and he had bought without any hesitation mostly as a joke but resulted in both of you wearing them on a daily basis.
Now, all he can do is continue watching you with bated breath as you guide his hand right where you both want him. He comes to cup the underside of one of your breasts, your hand over his pressing his fingers tighter together until you can feel some sort of pleasant pressure. And, just like that, something feral and needy seems to snap within him. His hand slithers from your grasp if only so he can flick his thumb across your nipple, mesmerized by the softness of it. He’s only ever seen you naked once before and it was fleeting. You were both drunk, skinny dipping in a lake with a handful of other friends, but it had been too dark to notice much else. But now? Now, he can see all of you and the sight strikes a chord right down to his dick.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” Jungkook groans.
“Koo.” The cute little nickname you had given him sounds dirty now as it slips from your lips in a moan. “Too sentimental.”
But Jungkook isn’t listening because you really, really, really are so beautiful. He bows his head to your chest, catching one of your nipples in his mouth. He murmurs something against your chest that sounds akin to, “We can take things slow.”
“Slow…” Your head is spinning, but it’s a delightful sensation. Something hard pokes against your ass now, and the adrenaline only seems to build within you. It’s odd how everything feels so foreign ━ exploring his body and these newfound feelings like the uncharted territory it is ━ yet secure and safe at the same time. As if you know what to do next, where to touch next, how to move, your bodies almost fitting together like pieces to a puzzle. “Y-Yeah, I like that. Can I move?”
“Fuck, yes, please,” he growls. He’s much too busy nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin on your chest, teeth tugging at your nipple.
You hurry to obey, giving a small experimental swivel of your hips that almost immediately has the both of your inhaling a sharp breath of air. His dick strains against his sweatpants, the material doing very little in protecting him against you. Your core throbs as you rub yourself on him.
“Like this?” You rasp.
“Yeah, just like that.” Jungkook’s head rolls back onto the couch, his eyes squeezing shut and his blonde hair spilling into his eyes. He clenches his jaw, the nerves fluttering in the corner, as pure euphoria riddles his features. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything so sexy. “Fuck, we probably shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Yeah,” You agree, breathless. “Do you wanna stop?”
“No. Do you?”
“Thank god.” The sigh of relief that emits from Jungkook startles even him but, in the heat of the moment, he doesn’t register how any of this could be a mistake. “Ah, shit━ Faster━”
“Mmm, Koo━” You whimper as you quicken your pace, the vulgar harbored thought of his dick in you thrilling you to no end.
“Fuuck, I’ve never heard you sound like this before. So needy, so desperate,” Jungkook grunts, his fingers digging into your hips. And it’s all because of him, the way you’re feeling. He’s never wanted to hurry to please you faster, itching to tear you apart if he’ll get to hear those noises from you again and again. “I━”
He’s gonna cum, and he’s not even in your pussy. What’s gotten into him?
He presses you a little harsher against his dick, sitting up straighter so that his chest is pressed flush against yours. He leans forward, lips chasing after yours, before you pull back just enough sluggishly to press your finger to his mouth.
“Uh uh. No kissing,” You rasp.
The words process in Jungkook’s head, but the weight of them don’t seem to linger in his daze. He’s far too overwhelmed by you and the way you’re making him feel to even begin to try to decipher why you avoid his mouth and so, for now, he doesn’t care. Instead, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, nose nuzzling against your throat. You clutch at his hair, tugging at the roots tight enough for him to moan.
“Nnngh, Jungkook━” You whine. “I’m gonna━ Oh, fuck, Koo━”
And then you’re unravelling, right in his very arms. He holds you close as you tremble and shake, rutting your hips sloppily against his to ride out your high, and Jungkook thinks he can definitely get used to this. The familiar burn forms in his stomach and, without even thinking of it, he comes in the confinements of his pants.
But in the heat of the moment, he doesn’t notice quite a lot of things. Neither do you.
So, maybe you could both find a hundred and one reasons why having sex with your best friend would surely cross some lines, but the thing with you and Jungkook (and what would eventually blossom into a hubristic relationship of sorts) is that it wasn’t just sex. You would always be comfortable around him, as he would be with you. And nothing could ever possibly get weird between the two of you ━ not when you had both made a promise to each other that it wouldn’t get in the way of your friendship.
Because ━ while, yeah, he’s hot and suffers from fuckboy tendencies from time-to-time and, aside from random late night hookups ━ he was still the same boy that would drag you out at three in the morning to drive to the next city over for a bowl of ramen, who would marathon shows as long as One Piece or Game of Thrones with you, watching as much as you can in one all-nighter; who would come to your dorm, no matter the time of day, the moment you said you were sick or suffering from cramps, piled high with your favourite snacks; who shared a repertoire of silly inside jokes with you that never made any sense to anyone but the both of you; who insisted you both wear friendship bracelets even in college. He would always be an angel to you, treat you well, because you meant that much to him.
A small thought in the back of Jungkook’s head wonders, above all else, if you were anyone different, would he have even bothered suggesting such a ludicrous idea, drunk or not?
Because he’s positive no one else could make him cum in his pants like a horny prepubescent teen ━ no one except for you.
“If we’re really gonna do this, we need to set some ground rules.”
Admittedly, neither you nor Jungkook knew what would happen after Jungkook’s proposition to you. Maybe you were expecting the two of you to pretend as if nothing had ever happened, or laugh it off as something so inconsequential that neither of you should bother worrying about it. Instead, the very next day, you find that you’re back in Jungkook’s dorm. Only this time, you’re in his bed, and he spent the past half hour sufficiently eating you out.
Now, you’ve had an epiphany in the form of Jungkook’s dick, and that is that it’s big.
You’ve seen it before on occasion ━ like when he streaked nude across campus as a dare or when he needed to use your shower because his apartment was under maintenance and he walked out on you in the living room ━ but this is clearly a very different circumstance. All red, swollen, angry tip wet and glistening with precum. You had to brace yourself as he pushed himself into you, cautiously and slowly, enjoying the way you stretch to fit around him. If you had a drunken excuse the night before for loving the thought of getting off with Jungkook, then you surely don’t have one now. It’s a shameless guilty pleasure, you think, that he’s at least indulging in.
“Rules,” Jungkook scoffs now. “You’re such a nerd. Fuck, you feel so fucking good━ You doing okay?”
More than. Your head lolls back against his pillow, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head. “Mhm.”
“Want a minute?”
Jungkook pauses without any hesitation, gnawing on his lower lip as your walls clench around him so tightly he feels he might fall apart then and there. His hands are on your hips, thumbs rubbing comforting circles against your burning skin. A few deep breaths later and you’re probing Jungkook to move again. His hips rut into yours at a leisure pace, and he marvels for a moment at the way his dick disappears into your pussy, slick and wet with your own arousal. The thought of being in you ━ of finally feeling your walls wrapped around him, all wet and snug ━ is enough to make him bust then and there, but he refrains miraculously.
“Holy fuck,” You groan. “Why are you so big━”
Your voice cuts off into a delightful whimper, walls aching around him. Jungkook snorts, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck. “Nothing sexier than hearing you stroke my ego.”
“Don’t let it get to your already big head,” You retort sluggishly.
“Big head!” he grumbles against your throat, lips brushing faintly against your skin and sending shivers down your spine. “Insult me some more. You know how it gets me going.”
“Oh my god, shut up. Where were we?”
“Right,” You breathe in a sharp inhale of air as he grinds against your hips. “And rule number one is no kissing. That’s way too intimate.”
Jungkook quirks a brow. “How is kissing more intimate than having my dick in you?”
“It just is.” You refuse to tell him the truth. You poke your fingers at his sides, causing him to jerk against you. “Don’t question it.”
“Fine. Then no sentimental shit in general, like cuddling or pet names,” Jungkook retorts. “And no public displays of affection.”
“Okay,” You nod. “Fuck, Jungkook━”
“God, I love hearing you moan my name,” Jungkook grunts. He watches with fascination the way your face reacts at his every movement. “Too much?”
“No. Kinda hot,” You admit. An abrupt thought pops into your head that has you murmuring hazily, “Oh, and you can’t have sex with me to your sex playlist.”
Jungkook looks appalled. The sex playlist in question is one you’ve heard briefly before, if only because you’ve walked in on Jungkook and his flavour of the month a handful of times one too many times.
“So you’re telling me you don’t want to have the best orgasm of your life to The Weeknd or the Neighbourhood? WAP?” Jungkook asks, wriggling his brows suggestively. “Alanis Morissette?” You have less than half a second to register the 90s pop singer as out of place before Jungkook breaks out into song with a brief rendition of Head over Feet. “You’re my best friend, best friend with benefits━!”
Part of you knows he’s joking, but there’s still a small sliver of you that makes you gawk at him dubiously before dissolving into a fit of unabashed laughter. It rumbles against his chest, vibrates his dick in you. “You’re not serious, are you? That’s not actually in your sex playlist, is it?”
He flashes you a shit-eating grin. “Guess you’ll never know now.”
Another roll of your eyes makes him snicker. He’s gotten used to your snide remarks, but he’ll gladly keep suffering under them if he gets to wipe that taunting smirk off your face each time with the way his dick makes you feel. You cling a little tighter to his shoulders and muse aloud, “So that’s it then?”
“Yeah━” Jungkook knows you’re referring to the rules and your plan, although it’s getting harder to focus on talking as he continues to grind against you. “And nothing has to change between us, even if we stop. We’re still just two best friends.”
“Who have sex from time to time.”
He can’t help himself. He tries again. “Who might kiss.”
“Nope.” You’re smiling even despite the way you shoot him an aggravated stare first.
“No, we definitely won’t.”
Worth a shot, he thinks to himself. At least you really do always keep him in check.
After all, what are best friends for?
So, maybe a part of you thought the shift in your relationship with Jungkook wouldn’t last very long. A week at most, and maybe Hoseok would find you another pointless let down of a blind date to go on and Jungkook would get horny for some other girl ━ but it’s certainly been more than a week now, and you’ve had sex with him more than two times.
A third, and a fourth, if you’re being blatantly honest, and maybe a few more times after that but you don’t really remember what count you’re both on now which should probably be concerning. Days elapse into days, which turn to weeks, then months. Morning, afternoon, and night.
It’s not as if you hadn’t already spent almost every waking moment with Jungkook but now you had a reason to be at his apartment at any and all hours of the day and not solely for movie watching marathons. You’re positive he’s still having his occasional random flings, though you’re fortunate his commitment issues at least force him to go to their homes rather than his for the most part, so you never really have to witness half-naked girls stumbling out of his apartment just as you’re wandering in. He says it has something to do with how his bedroom is his sacred space, though you think it’s more like he wouldn’t want his hook ups discovering his Overwatch figurines or something (because, before Jungkook’s proposition, you’ve walked in on him once and a girl when they were entangled on the couch in his living room).
But you’ve noticed lately you’re getting too comfortable with your arrangement with Jungkook; too comfortable knowing he’ll be there at the end of a long day to greet you, to please you until you’re crying out his name. Sometimes he tells you about the girls he’s texting, or shows you a picture from a hot girl’s Instagram whose D.M.s he’s just slid into. And sometimes you’re left wondering how often he comes straight to you after hooking up with a random girl.
It shouldn’t matter to you, and you swear that it doesn’t.
Maybe you’re just overthinking things. Hoseok certainly seems to think so, but his judgement wasn’t much to go by.
Because, lately, Hoseok has been encouraging you more and more to give Yukhei (the blind date Hoseok had initially set you up with when you found yourself at Jungkook’s) another chance for two reasons: 1) “Yukhei’s a nice boy,” he had cheerfully reminded you, “he’ll treat you well,” and 2) “Stop fucking your best friend. It’s morally wrong.”
There were many things wrong with his statement, from the fact that you didn’t exactly consider standing up a date as “nice” and that you were also still begrudgingly lamenting the way Hoseok had discovered your recent fling with Jungkook (although, you weren’t being very inconspicuous, having shower sex with Jungkook early one morning when you were certain Hoseok would be spending the day at his fiance’s home instead of yours).
But then you meet Yukhei and you realize that, oh crap, he’s cute. And he’s nice.
As it turns out, after bumping into him one day when you’re with Hoseok lounging on the quad of your campus and he comes bounding over to return a textbook Hoseok had lent him for a specific class, Yukhei is so easily charming. He also gives a pretty valid excuse for flaking on your date, proving that he had to present his dissertation, making you clearly aware that he’s cute, nice, and smart. Jungkook, on the other hand, doesn’t see the appeal, yet his curiosity and intrigue seems to get the best of him.
“So that was your blind date?” Jungkook asks after grabbing your attention on the quad and stealing you away from Hoseok and Yukhei. “Yukhei?”
“You know him?”
“Seen him around,” Jungkook shrugs nonchalantly. “I’ve never really talked to him. But him? You’re not telling me you’re actually interested in him, are you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe,” You’re truly just as clueless about your feelings towards Yukhei as Jungkook seems to be. “What’s so wrong about him?”
“He’s━” Jungkook stops. He shakes his head. “Heard he’s got a small dick anyway.”
You shoot the boy a wary look, only to find him grinning deviously at himself. “Maybe he just wants to be friends.”
At this, Jungkook lets out a scoffing sound that borders on disbelieving laughter. “No, I definitely think he wants to have sex with you in his Toyota Camry, Y/N, but what do I know?”
“You’re not jealous, are you?”
“No, why would I be jealous?”
You can’t quite tell if he’s angry or not but, then again, why would he be? As far as either of you are concerned, there’s nothing to be jealous of.
So then why does it feel like he’s simply just telling himself that?
“Are you seriously on your phone right now?”
Jungkook asks this from somewhere behind you a handful of days later, a little peeved but most likely because your jarring 8:00 a.m. alarm had roused the both of you violently awake. In his defense, Jungkook is not a morning person.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” You’re currently sprawled out on your hands and knees on his bed, phone still in your grasp after having plucked it off the nightstand in haste. Your clothes are scattered across the floor of his room, remnant clues of the night before when he had beckoned you over after hours, and your body is covered in nothing but hickeys and an unbuttoned blue flannel belonging to Jungkook that you had chucked on last night that does nothing in covering up the swell of your breasts which Jungkook is now currently eyeing. “Am I not giving you enough attention? Were you expecting cuddles or something? Thought that wasn’t in the rules.”
“No,” Jungkook huffs. He runs a hand through his long messy hair in an attempt to fix it; he ultimately gives up taming his locks, instead using the hair tie around his wrist to tie his hair back into a cute yet sexy little ponytail. As he does so, you notice the red friendship bracelet around his wrist and smile smally. “But my dick could use some cuddles. Preferably with your mouth, but it will also gladly accept your hand.”
Jungkook may not be a morning person but, as you’ve come to realize, his dick certainly is.
It’s painfully obvious too, his hardened length straining against the gray sweatpants he had thrown on at some point. And, god, did he have to wear those? It left little to the imagination, the outline of his length teasing you just enough.
“I should get going,” You say. “I have a test coming up. There’s supposed to be a review session today in class, and I don’t want to miss it.”
“Well, you don’t seem like you’re in a rush since you’re still on your phone,” Jungkook points out. “Who are you texting anyway? Yukhei?”
“Anger is an emotion,” You rebuke casually. “So is jealousy.”
Jungkook feigns a look of mock hurt. “I’m not angry or jealous! I’m needy.”
Still, Jungkook reaches out to swiftly pluck your phone from your hands.
He’s pressed up against your back in an instant, his dick hard against your ass, and he doesn’t move very far even when you twist in your spot in an attempt to grab your phone back. You don’t, and instead you end up on your back with him on his side, propped up on his elbow. You miss when he casts a swift gaze down at your phone, only to see that Yukhei’s chat messages are indeed open, and something seems to gnaw terribly at his gut before he tosses your phone to the side. He’s looking at you now with those big beautiful eyes of his, and you hate it.
“Please?” he beckons. He ruts his hips impatiently but slowly against your leg. He drops his head to bury his face in the crook of your neck, lips dangerously close to brushing against your flesh but he refrains somehow. “M’so hard right now, could probably bust the moment you touch me.”
The thought is tempting, having a helpless Jungkook cumming in your hands. The sight alone has quickly become your favourite thing, helping the frustrated boy get off. Besides, you’re certain you could ask Hoseok for the review notes.
Fuck it, you cave.
You fidget until you’ve pressed him back against the bed and have clambered on top of him, wiggling your way down to fit between his legs. Jungkook is watching you now with a half-asleep expression, though his teeth sink into his lower lip as you pull at his sweatpants until they’re down at his thighs, letting his swollen dick spring free.
“You know━” You hum. You reach out to grab at the base of his cock. “Yukhei wants to hang out, and Hoseok keeps telling me to give it a shot.”
That much is true. Part of you wants to say yes, if only because Yukhei seems promising enough, but the thought alone is enough for you to feel as if you’ve done something horribly wrong to Jungkook.
“Oh.” The word eclipses Jungkook’s mouth in a shallow breath of air. Then, your mouth wraps around the puffy head of his dick, shining with leaking precum that you swallow back, and Jungkook’s reaction is immediate. Head thrown back, face scrunching together, muscles in his toned abdomen flexing as he seizes and grunts aloud. “Oh, fuck━ Well… Are you gonna?”
Jungkook asks the last question with much difficulty, and a part of him thinks it doesn’t all have to do with how you’re making him feel.
“Dunno.” You snort around his dick, and he marvels at how adorable such a lewd action can seem.
You decide to focus on sucking him off because it truly is a sexy sight to see, letting the topic of Yukhei drop. Jungkook certainly doesn’t mind. As you swirl your tongue around his tip and reach up with your free hand to fondle at his balls, his long hair falls into his lashes but he still tries to find you past his wild locks, hooded eyes gazing down at you.
“Ah, shit━” Jungkook hisses delightfully, hips jerking forward instinctively into your mouth. The faintest hints of a drowsy smirk tug at his lips. “Fuck, yes, just like that.”
Yeah, you think to yourself then, you’re definitely going to ride him later. Screw going to class.
Sent: 1:05 a.m.
bro i noticed u werent wearing our friendship bracelet while u were giving me head earlier. is everything ok??
You wake in the morning to a single text from Jungkook ━ and one you had not been expecting.
That’s not to say that getting the occasional text message from Jungkook at any and all hours of the day was abnormal, but the extent of his messages sent anywhere past midnight usually always range from something more coherent in the form of “what would u do if i was there rn?” to something exuding typical lazy Jungkook manner with a simple “dtf?” or “send noods lol” to something even more provocatively cryptic such as the eggplant and splashing water (or, as far as Jungkook is concerned, something else entirely) emojis and nothing else, left open for your own interpretation that typically, usually, without a doubt, results in you in his bed and his dick in you. But this seems to be something else entirely.
Unfortunately, Jungkook’s text isn’t the only concern of yours.
Hoseok has spent the better part of the morning giving you a lecture on why having sex with your best friend is bad. He seems so passionate about the topic that you’re certain he would have pulled out a powerpoint at any moment, each slide ending in a picture of Yukhei and why you should maybe try fucking him instead, if you entertained the idea a little longer. Hoseok claims it’s just a harmless date. Yukhei might be a nice boy, but you don’t know how you feel about him. You don’t want to lead him on, and a scary thought points out the fact that maybe, while Yukhei is a nice boy, he isn’t Jungkook.
“I don’t get why you don’t just give Yukhei a chance━” Hoseok is saying now, sat on the couch in your shared apartment with him. “It’s not like you have to marry him. I don’t think one date will hurt━ Aaand, you’re not even listening to me anymore, are you?”
The sheepish look on your face is enough of an answer for him. You’ve been anxiously eyeing your phone and the text Jungkook had sent you last that you’ve yet to respond to, even despite being awake for more than a few hours now.
“Yes, I am listening,” You say dismissively. “Something about how one date won’t hurt, but that’s what you said when Yoongi asked you out, and you’re literally engaged now.”
The glistening metallic ring on Hoseok’s finger is evidence enough. The boy looks down at it as if seeing it for the first time, purses his lips, and then nods in agreement. “Okay, yeah, maybe you’re right. But you’re holding out for Jungkook and for what? He’s hot, yeah, and he’s your best friend, sure, but at the end of the day he’s still just a horny male who wants to stick his dick in anything that moves.”
“Hoseok.” Your grumbling sigh is interrupted by the motion of your phone vibrating against your thigh once more. You peek at the screen fleetingly to see a new text.
Sent: 2:35 p.m.
miss ur tits :(
The text from the night before is all but seemingly forgotten from his mind, and you can’t quite tell if you’re devastated or relieved. You don’t have very long to discern which emotion you’re feeling when Hoseok snatches your phone to look at what’s gotten your attention before exclaiming suddenly, “Aha! See! What did I say?”
“It’s not like that,” You wave Hoseok off. “Jungkook treats me well. He respects me, and I’m comfortable with him.”
“And how long until whatever this is━” He gestures vaguely to your phone as if to point out your relationship with Jungkook, “has to end? Do you really think a pinky promise is going to make sure your friendship with him isn’t totally ruined? I mean, how can you continue being casual friends with someone, see them dating someone else, when they’ve had their dick in you?”
You know it makes sense. Realistically, you either stop sleeping with each other or it potentially develops into something more. But in both circumstances, what were the chances that either of you didn’t get your heart broken? Maybe a part of you was apprehensive of Jungkook finding the “right” person for him one day that has him ending things with you, and while you swear you’d be happy for him, relationships sometimes have a way of distracting people from those already around them. Were you prepared to have someone take him away from you, platonically and whatever it is else that you have with him? Did you really think you could just keep being friends with him, as if nothing ever occurred between you two?
You don’t think Jungkook is bothered worrying about the state of your friendship with him, much less overthinking it like you seem to be. It shouldn’t be a big deal ━ yet why was there still that terrible nagging voice in the back of your mind? Whether or not Hoseok is right, you don’t want to find out. You don’t have feelings for Jungkook anyway.
But your ability to bend at his every will is certainly interesting.
You grab your phone before Hoseok can do any serious damage like unlocking it and responding to Jungkook, clutching it to your chest as you start to cross the living room. The other boy looks at you in bewilderment. “Where are you going now?”
“Where does it look?” You call over your shoulder just before you disappear into the bathroom, and Hoseok deduces all at once that you’re truly a lost cause. “I need to send him a picture of my boobs.”
“He’s totally into you, Y/N.”
Admittedly, there were many mundane but essentially weird things you’ve talked to Jungkook about while having sex. You’ve had many heated debates about everything under the sun from whether or not pineapple on pizza should be illegal to top five betrayals in either movies or animes, to passionate grand philosophical discussions about what exists outside of the universe.
It’s not as if you had been planning on talking about Yukhei to Jungkook when he had invited you over to his apartment late at night after sending your risqué boob picture to him but, like many things in your friendship with Jungkook, it sort of just happened. He had asked you how your day was and you had decided to broach the topic experimentally, though you think deep down you’re doing it on purpose to see if he’d react in any way. What started with you mentioning Hoseok’s adamance and you sort of genuinely asking Jungkook for advice on Yukhei somehow evolved into Jungkook interrogating you on whether or not you’ve hung out with him yet.
“Jungkook. You’re getting off topic,” You admonish him now, as if your own choice of topic is any better when his dick is currently in you.
Jungkook is wedged between your thighs smushed up against your chest, large palms holding you on your ribcage in place beneath him. He’s a comfortable heavy draped over top of you, cock stretching you wide. You can feel his heart hammering against yours and he’s slick with sweat, golden hair clinging to his forehead and in his pretty eyes. You resist the urge to reach out and brush the messy locks away but, again, how would that be any less intimate of an action than what you’re already doing? Another line uncrossed, you suppose.
“How am I off topic?” Jungkook retorts. “You literally just said you can’t tell if he’s into you but he dropped by when you were done class and bought you lunch. You don’t just do that for a girl you don’t care that much about.”
“You buy me lunch, like, every day,” You point out.
“Because you’re my best friend. Of course I care about you,” Jungkook says.
“Ah, Jungkook━” You curse suddenly, grabbing his attention when you shift your weight beneath him. “You’re crushing me. Why’d you stop moving?”
He doesn’t have an answer, if only because he hadn’t even realized he’d stop moving in the first place. Without hesitation, he continues leisurely rutting his hips against yours, grabbing at one of your legs to hook it around his waist. This new angle lets you feel even more of him as he sinks further into you, if that was even still possible, reaching so far into you that you swear it’s like you can feel him in your stomach. Your head lolls back against the pillows, pure euphoria contorting your face so much so to the point that it distracts you entirely from the distant look glazing over Jungkook’s eyes.
“Yukhei definitely wants to bang,” he huffs under his breath.
At once, an exasperated groan fills his ears.
“I can’t believe we’re seriously having this conversation right now,” You roll your eyes, fingers prodding at his sides. “I don’t wanna talk about Yukhei potentially wanting to have sex with me.”
Jungkook’s glad you said it, at least. Though now he’s watching you with hooded eyes as he thrusts into you a little harder, maybe a little intentionally. His indulgent gaze droops to your breasts, admiring the way they bounce beneath him each time his hips make contact with yours. He thinks back earlier in the day to the picture you had sent him which, really, had sparked the mood for the rest of the night.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he whines abruptly. His eyes screw shut and brows furrow together as your walls clench around him. He drops his head to bury his face in your chest, lips momentarily wrapping around one of your nipples as he sucks harshly at the soft flesh. When he speaks next, forehead still resting against your collarbones, his voice is a breathless croak, “Well, do you like him?”
“No,” You moan. “Maybe━ Fuck, Koo━ I don’t know.”
“He’s gonna be at that party Tae’s throwing, isn’t he?” Jungkook tries to focus, but it’s becoming increasingly harder to do so when he’s inching closer and closer to his high. “Shit, ah, Y/N━ Why don’t you try talking to him or something? See how the night goes?”
“He’s nice but I don’t think he’s the one for me,” You admit sheepishly. “I think I’m just gonna end things while I still can, with as little harm as possible.”
“Well, glad that’s settled,” Jungkook mumbles. “Can we please stop talking about Yukhei now?”
You seem to miss the way he clings to you a little tighter, hands flying down to grip at your hips, nails digging crescent moon shapes into your skin. He snaps his hips into yours a little faster this time, your pussy throbbing around him.
Your hands fumble to grip at his hair, tugging tightly at the roots and earning a delightful hiss from the boy. Your own mouth drops open in a silent moan and it’s a wonder he doesn’t combust at just how sexy the sight is. He hates how his eyes stay trained on the shape of your lips, the soft plumpness of them. He’s felt them wrapped around his dick plenty of times before but he concedes that it’s probably hardly anywhere near to how it would feel to kiss you. Like actually kiss you, tongue and all.
God, what’d he give just to smother your lips with his.
And, god, he hopes you never find out. He’s positive that thought is far more scandalous alone than anything you’ve ever done together.
You’re writhing beneath him now, hips jutting forward desperately to meet his. “I’m gonna cum, Jungkook━”
“Fuck, yes,” Jungkook growls. “Wanna feel you cream around my cock so bad. Come on, baby━”
In the heat of the moment, you seem to miss the pet name that slurs off his tongue and the sentiment in it. A few more jolting slams of his hips and you’re tumbling over the edge. He has to sputter for air when he feels your pussy wrapping so tightly around him, stuttering in his pace above you if only to watch as you unravel beneath him. Hooded dark eyes glazed over in that perfect fucked out expression he loves so much, teeth biting at your lower lip so hard he wonders if it’ll bruise in the morning.
A sudden thought pops into his head when you’ve settled enough, amongst the blinding pure white of bliss that clouds his thoughts. “Did you get my text by the way? The one I sent last night?”
You gasp for air. The bracelet on your wrist itches at the mention of it, and you’re fortunate you decided to wear it that afternoon before coming to Jungkook’s. “Y-Yeah━”
“Everything’s fine,” You say this as dismissively as you can. Your core is still vibrating after the harsh impact of your orgasm paired with Jungkook’s swollen length still in you. “I just… I was taking a shower and didn’t want to get it wet. I forgot to put it back on in the morning.”
That’s a lie. You had mostly taken it off as part of an experiment, though it hasn’t answered much. At least Jungkook doesn’t seem to realize that.
“Oh,” Jungkook breathes. A beat of silence passes, before he deadpans cockily, “Wait, you were taking a shower and I wasn’t invited?”
“Oh my god, shut up━” Maybe if he hadn’t just currently driven you to nirvana and back, you’d notice the way the sloppy grin on his face is a simple taunt. But you’re much too distracted to care. Instead, you use your leg that’s still hooked around his waist to gently push and roll him onto his back so that you can straddle his hips. His eyes sparkle mischievously as he watches you waste no time in hurrying to grind against him at an agonizingly steady pace that makes his head spin. “You’re ruining the moment. I’m trying to make you cum.”
A devious cackle rumbles from his chest, albeit a little contented at the same time. Yeah, he definitely likes the sound of that. “Well then, by all means, don’t let me stop you.”
It’s only then that his question comes back into your mind. If he felt the need to ask you again about the bracelet, maybe that meant something after all. At the very least, it means he hadn’t forgotten about it altogether. On the other hand, you wonder how often he had spent thinking, or over-thinking, the issue in the past twenty-four hours, if at all.
Was it wrong to feel some semblance of joy over that potential fact? Probably.
That doesn’t seem to bother you much this time. Not when he’s gazing up at you as if you’re some divine sexy goddess, all his to enjoy. You can’t help yourself; you reach down to brush the sweaty hair from his eyes, perhaps all too gentle of an action for best friends.
And he smiles, maybe a little too softly and maybe a little too ardently if you look close enough.
The thing about your supposed “rules” with your relationship with Jungkook is that there might be a few loose ends that neither you nor Jungkook pay much attention to sometimes.
But that’s neither here nor there.
Mostly, the “no public displays of affection” clause is easily disregardable. It’s typically when you’re too drunk to remember it and a bit needy, craving one another’s touch, but those around you never truly seem to care or even notice because, if you’re lucky, they’re equally as smashed. Sometimes the “no cuddles” clause blurs into a gray area where it’s simply just you and Jungkook post-sex, sprawled out in his bed, not necessarily wrapped up in one another’s arms and cooing sweet nothings to one another but giggling at nothing in particular except one another as you bask in each other’s company and nothing more. You suppose some rules are meant to be broken.
For the most part, Jungkook never seems to question the no kissing rule you were so adamant in insisting. Not until one night in which you’re left wondering where things go so drastically wrong. It starts off as normally as any other day with you and Jungkook can, spent in his apartment binge watching movies. You hadn’t expected that night to switch as suddenly as it does when Jungkook shoots you a text earlier in the day asking if you want to come to his for a night of casual drinking as simply “best friends.” But, as always, one thing seems to lead to another, and you can’t get enough of Jungkook. Maybe it’s in the way he holds you a little tighter, the way he tugs you onto his lap on the sofa in his living room, the way he grips your thighs with a certain type of insatiable desire.
“You know…” he hums. “You drive me insane. In, like, the best way possible.”
Part of you realizes his actions even without him seeming to, and the drunken smile on your face remaining frozen in place, a little dumbfounded. “Jungkook…”
“When I’m with you…” He lifts his stare to look at you, but you have nothing to say. Neither does he. Instead, you’re left grinning at one another and suddenly your face is warm. He leans towards you, his nose nuzzling against the side of your throat. Your hands stay threaded in his hair now, and he swears he feels you secure your grip as if to pull him closer.
You can feel his lips brush faintly against your skin, grazing along your neck to the underside of your jaw. Up, up, up, until━
It’s just as his mouth meets with the corner of yours that you register what he’s doing, even in your clouded state. You turn your head just in time, and he comes to an immediate halt, his lips barely making contact with your cheek instead before he pulls away. He doesn’t move very far but you also don’t push him away just yet. Instead, you shift your head to look at him, still inches apart from him.
“What are you doing?” You ask. He can’t quite tell if you’re appalled or not, an empty expression staring back at him.
“I━ You━” He fumbles over his words, squeezes his eyes shut. He blames it on the alcohol even though his head is swimming with thoughts that seem to only concern you. But then a fierceness seems to stir within him, one that makes his jaw clench as he meets your stunned stare. The question rolls off his tongue without meaning to. “Is this about Yukhei?”
“Is that why you weren’t wearing our bracelet the other day?”
The question is so ridiculous, you have to laugh. “What are you going on about?”
But Jungkook doesn’t see what’s so funny and so he tries again, his persistence taking hold. “Is that why you won’t ever let me kiss you?”
You blink. Then, you’re shaking your head at him. Exasperation hangs heavy in your words, shaping in the form of a tired scoff. “You’re not serious.”
You’ve slithered off of his lap before he can even think to stop you ━ but if he had, would you have even stayed? You’re mad, but he doesn’t know why. “No, I wanna know. Because if what we have is already so meaningless, what makes a kiss any different?”
“So I wanna know,” he says, brows unconsciously knitting together. His gaze is searching yours desperately, as if begging for an answer he’ll want to hear. But he knows he’s being an idiot, a small sober part in him makes him realize that. “Humour me. Have you had sex with him yet?”
“Oh my god. I can’t believe that’s what you’re on about.” Suddenly, you’re frowning. Your hardened stare meets the boy’s and the irritation that scrunches at your face makes him wince, but it’s too late for him to take back the damage that he’s done. “Yeah, Jungkook, we fucked in his stupid Toyota that you hate so much and he choked me and I liked it. He did all sorts of dirty things to me. Is that what you want to hear?” The sardonic tone hisses at his ears, but he bites back his words, the sober part in him doing some decent good by shushing him. “No, Jungkook, we didn’t fuck. We haven’t even gone on a date, and I don’t even know if I want to, and you think I’m throwing myself at him.”
“But you wanna.”
“You’re being an idiot,” You admonish. “I’m going home. Talk to me when you’re sober.”
He has just enough time to watch you turn on your heel, march towards his door, when he scrambles to his feet. The weight of his words and actions finally seem to dawn on him, hitting him harshly in the face and in the heart.
“Fuck, wait! Wait━” he gasps.
He chases after you, hand reaching out to press his palm against the door before you can shimmy it open. He’s fortunate when you turn to look at him, though your arms are folded impatiently over your chest.
“You’re right. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad,” he promises earnestly. Then, he lets out a frustrated groan. “I just… What if we… Shit, what if we stop for right now? Y’know… Hooking up. Whatever this is.”
He gestures vaguely between the two of you with his hands, a wearied look plastering his face.
You hate to admit how his words seem to affect you. They bite at the air, leave you breathless as you gawk at him, but the harsh realization of it all is that you were never his to have and he was never yours. Hoseok had been right when he said these things were bound to come to an end ━ so why did it seem to hurt you so much?
A beat of prolonged silence passes between the two of you. Jungkook runs a hand through his chaotic blonde hair, digging the heel of his palm into his temple as if to rid himself of a headache he’s no doubt sporting. Maybe you’re waiting for a better explanation, but he gives none, and you don’t feel as if you have the right to ask why. He’s not your boyfriend, for god’s sake. It’s not like he’s breaking your heart.
Instead, you take a deep breath and say, “Okay.”
“Okay.” It’s all that he says in return.
So then why does it feel like he is?
When Jungkook had promised that if your fling with him ended you would go back to being untainted best friends, he was apparently lying.
A part of you can’t believe the sheer nerve of him to ghost you in his traditional fuckboy ways, and yet he does. You suppose not entirely, at the very least. Part of it ends up with you being even more vexed by his sudden shift in emotion, and the tangible tension that rises between the two of you should have been dealt with properly, yet neither of you do anything about it, leaving your friendship stagnant and stale for a week. After all, how are you really supposed to go back to “just friends” when you’ve seen his dick one too many times?
You refrain from telling Hoseok, if only so you don’t have to hear him tell you he told you so ━ but you also decide to give Yukhei that one chance, and so you think Hoseok wouldn’t mind so much anyway.
Admittedly, when Yukhei asks to hang with you at Taehyung’s eventual party, you aren’t entirely too keen, but you accept it if only because you heard Jungkook will be there too. For the majority of the night, you don’t see the boy, and you spend the hours cozying up with Yukhei in a conversation that dulls you. As it would appear, it seems to bore Yukhei too, but you only notice that when he starts touching you on your waist and the small of your back. There’s a moment where he leans his head close enough to yours that you realize he’s trying to kiss you, resulting in an awkward encounter in which you push him away, palms on his chest.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. The answer is obvious enough to you, but you don’t think you should tell him for his own dignity. That, instead, all you can imagine is Jungkook in his place. “Should we get out of here?”
“Y/N. Can I talk to you?”
You’re both fortunate yet horrified when you hear Jungkook’s voice. He’s standing just behind you, his own stare devoid of any emotion, though his brows furrow and his jaw clenches in a signature Jungkook manner that you know means he’s pissed. He hardly acknowledges Yukhei, nodding in his general direction. You don’t remember if you leave Yukhei there or if he leaves, or if Jungkook even gives a poor attempt of an excuse to the boy, but you’ve not so much as uttered a single word or let out an exhalation of air, when Jungkook ultimately pulls you off to the side where it’s just you and him once more.
“I’m not sucking your dick in Tae’s grimy bathroom, if that’s what you want,” You scowl once Yukhei is out of earshot. “You’ve lost the privilege that is my mouth.”
“That’s not━” Jungkook shakes his head, exasperated. “That’s not what I want. I just━ I’ll take you home. Please?”
You know the offer is much more than him simply walking you the route to your dorm, which you already know like the back of your hand. Yet, you don’t argue. Truthfully, it’s a relief when Jungkook lugs you out of the party. The entire venture back to your apartment is treacherous, in the way that you’re left sobering up enough to the point that your dizzying thoughts become more coherent. Hoseok is gone for the weekend at least, spending the days with his fiance, so you don’t have to worry about humiliating yourself in front of your roommate when it comes to Jungkook.
You’ve barely made it through your front door when you’re grumbling aloud, “What do you want, Jungkook?”
“I wanna talk,” he says firmly. “About us. About Yukhei.”
“Maybe I don’t want to.” But that’s a lie. Talking to Jungkook, even despite masquerading your annoyance for him, is a blessing in disguise. You’ve missed the idiot, and hearing his voice. “Besides, you told me to give him a chance.”
“And you said you didn’t want to.”
“Maybe I changed my mind.”
“Yeah, you sure seemed like you loved it when he was trying to shove his tongue down your throat,” Jungkook retorts bitterly. “C’mon, Y/N. We both know that’s a lie.”
“You know, you’ve been a real dick lately.”
A sliver of a smirk tugs at Jungkook’s face. “I thought you love dick.”
Clearly, his poor attempt at a joke doesn’t land well with you. “Why do you even care so much if Yukhei and I get together? Stop acting so high and mighty and moral, Jungkook. It’s not like you’re some virgin saint. How many times have I heard you talk about all those girls you’ve fucked? And what was I? Just another notch in your belt this whole time?”
“What?” Jungkook gasps now, as if disbelieving you would ever think such a thing. “No! You’re not just another notch. I would never even think about you that way. And I haven’t had sex with anyone else but you this whole time and I easily could have.”
“Wow! Such a martyr,” You remark dryly. When you speak next, you meet his stare with your own crestfallen gaze. “I just want my best friend back.” Your words hurt him more than you think, but he can’t say he doesn’t deserve it. “You’re the one who tried to kiss me, then suggested we stop whatever it is we’re doing━”
Jungkook flinches. “I know.”
“Then you ignore me for days even though you promised nothing would change━”
“I know,” he says desperately. He closes the distance between the two of you, yearning to reach out and touch you. Instead, he clamps his eyes shut, trying with all his might to focus when the room feels like it’s spinning.
“And then you get mad when Yukhei tries to make a move. It’s like you’re jealous or something!”
“I am.” He can’t take it anymore. The words tumble from his lips in a rush that he hardly bothers to bite back.
“Because━ Because━” He struggles to form his thoughts into words, stumbling over his sentence. Fuck, he’s never like this. Even you can tell. He grits his teeth next. “I lean in to kiss you and you look at me as if I’m out of my mind. I just don’t get it. You don’t want me to kiss you but you let me put my dick in your ass.”
The taut line of your lip quivers as you break. “That was one time and you didn’t even get all the way in!”
“Y/N.” Jungkook hums now. He’s gazing at you a little softly, reaching out to place his hands on your waist. “Look, I know I’ve been an idiot. But lately, when I touch you, I fucking feel so alive and the thought of Yukhei doing anything with you when it isn’t me, who should be with you, makes me want to vomit. And when I wake up in the morning alone, I only want you next to me. And I can’t be the only one feeling that way. If I am, tell me. Right now. Please. I just wanna know why you won’t ever let me kiss you, but you let me do all sorts of things with you. Am I really that repulsive?”
Another moment of silence stifles the room. Jungkook is so close to you now, you can’t help yourself. You reach up to tug at the collar of his shirt, fingers twisting in the material as you lean your forehead out of frustration against his shoulder and he instinctively lets his arms slither around your waist, holding you to him. Then━
“I only made the rule because I don’t want you to kiss me unless you mean it,” You murmur into his chest. “Like really, really mean it. Like I’m more than just a notch in your belt. Because I want to kiss you so badly, and I’m already in love with you but then I’ll really be in love with you and I don’t want to get my heart broken.”
The anticipation kills you, awaiting his response. You refuse to lift your head, until you hear him grumble, “You’re so fucking stupid.”
The retort is filled with your typical jestering hostility as you finally look at him. But just as you do so, Jungkook’s reaching out to grasp at your face, rough hands all soft and gentle as they cradle your cheeks, guiding you towards him and smoothing his lips over yours until you melt like putty in his hands.
Kissing Jungkook, you deduce at once, is not at all how you imagined it.
It’s everything and more. You’ve felt his mouth on you before but in much different circumstances. Between your legs, on your throat, down past the valley of your breasts ━ and each kiss then had been feral, sloppy, rough. Now, it’s sweet and tender, the feeling of his lips as soft as how he makes your heart feel. And the butterflies━ god, the butterflies.
Impatient hands tug and pull at one another until you’ve both stumbled into your room and onto your bed. He’s clambered over top of you, lips struggling to not part throughout the whole ordeal, until he’s wedged himself between your thighs.
Only then does Jungkook part from you just enough in the next moment, lips brushing against yours, as he whispers ardently, “I mean it.”
Then he’s kissing the corner of your lips down to the underside of your jaw, his mouth grazing along your skin in a feathery touch. His hands help you shed your shirt, and the bra underneath. “I mean it when I kiss you here.”
Then he drops his head to your neck, kissing at the base of your throat, before nipping at it lightly. “And here.”
Your hands come to thread in his hair, tugging at the roots. He burrows his face lastly in your chest, snatching the nipple of one of your breasts between his teeth. “Here…”
You’re so soft and supple beneath his hands, all his to love and explore.
“I want you, all of you,” he mumbles. “Only you.”
A pretty moan tumbles from your mouth, and he could nearly cry. He had surely thought you were far past the point of enraged, far past the point of pensive words shaped in a heartfelt apology to bring you back to him. But then hearing you rasp his name ━ the little cute nickname that only you call him ━ makes him so goddamn remorseful.
He smothers your lips with his once more, groaning into your mouth. “I’m such a fucking dick. I don’t deserve you.”
“Don’t say that,” You whine.
“I’m sorry,” he laments. He bites at your lower lip, suckling against it. “Please let me make it up to you.”
“You already have.”
“But I’ve been such a shitty friend,” he groans. It’s hard to focus when he’s pressing his hips against yours, the forming bulge in his pants straining against the inside of your thigh. “I should’ve known when to stop. I shouldn’t have even suggested the whole thing in the first place, because then I wouldn’t have messed us all up.”
“Jungkook,” Your grip tightens in his hair. “Jungkook━ I want you so bad. Just wanna be yours.”
“Yeah?” His breath is warm as it fans against your neck. You rub your core eagerly against him, throbbing pussy so close to making contact with his dick.
“Yeah,” You mewl.
“What do you want from me?”
“You. Wanna feel your dick in me, please,” Your fingers tug at the top of his jeans, prodding at the muscles on his abdomen. “In my mouth. Can make you feel better, Koo, I promise. Just wanna be your good girl.”
“Mmm, I like the sound of that.”
He lets you push him until he’s on his back and you’re straddling his hips. Your limbs entangle with his as you shed the rest of your clothes, your own hands wandering up and down the front of his body after he’s tossed his shirt onto the floor. Then he watches as you shimmy your way down his body. You’re so zealous in pleasing him, wrapping your hand around the base of his dick, head angry and red, dribbling pearly beads of precum down the shaft and over the bulging vein that lines it. You run your thumb over the tip and down, spreading the sticky fluid over him. He grunts in response, nearly jolting at your touch, as his head drops back against his shoulders.
“Oh, fuck,” he growls.
You pump him slowly, taking you time as your closed fist glides up and down his length. He shudders each time your hand reaches the base, and becomes so carried away with your leisure teasing that his eyes are screwed shut and misses the way you dip down to kiss at the tip of his cock. His eyes immediately flutter open, a flustered expression painting his face. You lap again at the head, saltiness coating your tongue, and you let out a simpering moan that has him quivering. And when you wrap your mouth entirely around his cock, sinking down along his length, he swears he’s about to fall apart. Your eyes flicker upward to meet him and the moment they lock, so sexy and dark, he has to look away for fear of busting right then and there. He reclines back against the bed once more, his hand flying out to grab at your hair.
“You’re so good to me, baby,” he rasps.
He can feel the curve of your lips against his cock as you suck him off. You do so well, too. Puffing your cheeks out, taking as much of him as you can until it feels as if he’s hitting the back of your throat. Then, you’ll suck at the tip of his cock, tongue swirling rapidly around, as your fist rubs his shaft. It’s a beautiful mix, one that inches him closer and closer to his high, and each time you switch he has to hold it together to not let go so soon. He wants to enjoy it, needs to bask in it. Your pretty mouth doing such sinful things, making him feel as if he were in heaven.
“Shit━” His hips jut forward to meet with your mouth, accidentally hitting the back of your throat without warning. You gag a little, but don’t pull away, and when he apologizes to you hastily, you only moan in response. A thought pops into his head that has him beckon aloud, “Will you be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth? Huh, baby?”
You hum in approval, eyes shimmering with glee.
So, he plants both hands in your hair, grabs at the sides of your head, and as you hollow out your cheeks, he bucks into your mouth. He does it again and again, listening to your crescendoing mewls of delight, forming a sticky mess of drool and cum that spills onto your chin.
“God, you’re so good,” Jungkook grunts. He’s a complete wreck, eyes screwing shut, blonde tresses spilling into his lashes. The muscles in his abdomen twitch with each sharp inhale of air he takes, so mesmerized by the shape of your pretty mouth around his dick, like you were made for him. “Such a good girl, huh?”
He fucks himself into your mouth roughly, frantically. Tears start to prick at your eyes from holding your breath, yet you keep yourself together just a little longer for him, lashes fluttering shut tightly.
“All mine too,” Jungkook hisses. “Wouldn’t let Yukhei do this to you, would you? Fuck, I’m━”
With your head left immobile stuck in his grasp, you hum in disapproval instead. You know he’s close when you start to hear him panting breathily. When he cums, it’s with a fractured whine and in short hot bursts onto your tongue and down your throat. You swallow as much as you can and, when he parts from you with a resonating lewd pop, you wipe away with your knuckles at the rest of his cum leaking out of the corner of your mouth and onto your chin. Dark hooded eyes meet with yours, a mischievous glint captivating them. You crawl over to him, straddling his hips once more, chasing his mouth with yours. Your own lips are so wet, coated in saliva and cum, bruised plump, but yet you’re smiling so innocently past the way he can taste himself on his tongue.
A dazed thought pops into your head that has you murmuring wistfully against him, “Say it again. I like hearing you call me baby.”
“Hmm? What about when I call you my good girl?” Jungkook nips at your lips. He grasps at your waist, flipping you over until you’re on your back beneath him. “You treat me so well, baby; you’re my only girl, you know that.”
A contented sigh sounds from you as you rut your hips in thinning desperation to meet his, so close to rubbing against his dick nestled against his thigh. He licks at his fingers hastily, reaching between the two of you to press against your clit, rubbing leisurely at the soft bundle of nerves. He’s learned how to navigate your body after months of supposed emotionless fucking, but now? Now, he felt as if his heart may just burst through his chest. Every reaction you make to his every touch ━ the needy plea to have him make you his, call you baby ━ makes him want to see more, and more.
“Am I?” You ask hoarsely. He grasps at his dick, guiding his tip to your core, so slick and wet, glistening with your own arousal. As he pushes himself in with a hiss, he watches as you contort beneath him. “Nnngh, Jungkook━”
“Fuuck,” he groans. He sinks into you, spreading your thighs further and further apart, until his hips make contact with yours. His mouth attacks yours with a feverish passion, the rumble of his moans and your whimpers muffling against one another. Then, he remembers to answer your awaiting question, barely audible between the way his tongue lavs at yours. “You are. I’m so fucking in love with you. But I don’t deserve you.”
Your hands tug impatiently at his hair. “Stop saying that.”
“But it’s true,” he hums. He’s quick to start rutting at your hips in a steady yet agonizing pace, dick burrowing into your pussy as your walls throb and shake. He can’t help but watch, mesmerized as always by the way his length slips past your folds and disappears into you. Again, and again, and again, so lewdly destroying your pretty cunt. “Just want Yukhei to touch you all over instead, don’t you?”
“No,” You croak.
You spread your thighs instinctively wider apart, allowing him to sink even further into you until it feels as if he’s hitting you so far in your stomach. Each roll of his hips is punctuated by the crude noise of skin against skin, sending you spiralling.
“Want him to do all sorts of dirty things to you, huh?”
“N-No. Fuck, Jungkook━ Harder, please━”
“That’s what you said,” Jungkook retorts. Still, he listens to your pleas, snapping his hips into yours roughly enough to send you jolting back on the bed. His hands start to roam your body, pinching at your hips, then grasping ferociously at one of your breasts. “Want him to fuck you in his car, right?” His palm feels like fire as it slides up past your collarbones to your throat. “Want him to choke you.”
His hand comes to wrap around the underside of your jaw on your throat, thumb and index finger pressing against the pressure points there. He squeezes, though with barely any force, just enough to feel your rapid pulse beneath his digits in a way that makes you so suddenly hyper aware of everything he’s doing to you. Cock stretching you wide, palm heavy around your throat, mouth folding over yours. So caught up in the overwhelming sensations you’re feeling, you can’t tell if he’s genuinely upset with himself, though you suspect part of him is. You can sense it in the way he clings to you a little tighter, can see it laced within his dazzling pupils.
Jungkook huffs, hair flopping into his eyes as he grits his teeth and ruts his hips faster into you if only to see more of your pretty little reactions. Your jaw unhinges at the feeling, head falling back onto the pillows. “He could probably treat you nicer too.”
You shake your head wildly, fingers digging into the skin on his shoulders. “Just want you, Koo.”
“Still?” he asks. His grip on your neck fastens a little more, pure euphoria riddling all your senses and making you writhe beneath him. “God, you’re such a dumb little slut, aren’t you?”
You nod in your groggy exhaustion, the familiar burn coiling in your stomach, making your toes curl.
Jungkook feels your own high approach. Your walls are clenched so tightly around him, he has to sputter for air. “Could he make you feel like this?”
“No, Koo,” You whine. “Only you.”
“Yeah?” Jungkook growls. “Good girl. Gonna cum around my dick like the good little slut you are?”
Your hips ricochet upwards to meet his, relentless pounding into your core. “Please, please━”
Jungkook quickens his pace until you’ve deteriorated into absolute shambles, whimpering his name after each thrust. You tumble towards your high, cuming around his length as he burrows it into you again and again, and all he can think is mine, mine, mine. As you unravel beneath him, he slides his hand off of your throat and slithers it underneath you and around your waist, hoisting you slightly enough off the bed so that he can reach his own orgasm. He’s a little more frantic now, sloppy and restless as he pummels into you.
“Shit, baby━” he cries out. “Oh, fuck, you’re so good━”
As you come down from your high enough, you somehow manage to murmur drowsily, “Cum in me, Koo. Wanna feel it.”
You grab at his face, pulling him down to catch his lips on yours, and the thought is so tempting he can’t refuse. He gets so lost in your lips, cuming with one final slam of his hips into yours and a chorus of curses mingling with your name in whimpers. He rides out both of your highs with a few half-hearted thrusts, more concerned with kissing you in useless open-mouthed kisses as your own mouth parts with one last weary moan while he fills you up.
When he’s spent, he collapses against your chest, and you collapse onto the bed. It’s quiet long enough for the both of you to calm the shrill beat of your hearts when you feel Jungkook stir, moving to part from you, pulling his dick from your swollen pussy and planting a lingering peck on your cheek. He disappears momentarily but returns a few seconds later, towel in hand which he uses to wipe at your core now leaking with his cum and your heart croons at all his tender touches.
It makes you realize all at once that, god, yes, you’re so in love with your idiot best friend and he’s so in love with you.
He turns to look at you, an adoring smile dancing upon his lips when he sees your own radiant beaming face. You beckon him over and he relents, letting you pull him into your arms. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck as he wraps his own arms around you to tug you closer to his side. As your fingers come to rake through his sweaty hair, he cranes his neck to follow your hand and hear him coo against your neck, “That feels so good.”
A sudden thought crosses your mind that has you smirking smally to yourself. “Are we… Are we cuddling? Jungkook, I thought you didn’t like cuddling. Said it was, and I quote, sentimental bullshit.”
“I never liked it because it wasn’t with you. Didn’t wanna waste my time on someone that wasn’t you,” Jungkook hums, matter-of-fact. You can tell he’s a little embarrassed at the way you so casually taunt him about such an obvious fact, though he’s fortunate you can’t see him smiling like a complete fool. “And I wanna do all that sentimental bullshit with only you. Now, shush━” He scolds you playfully. “M’so tired and I just wanna hold you tight.”
“Can’t argue with that.” Your heart leaps in your chest. “Just promise me one thing?”
It’s only then that he lifts his sleepy gaze to find yours, apprehensive of any potentially looming severity in your words. “Anything.”
Instead, all he can find is the way you trace your finger along the details of his face, from his nose, to his cheekbones, down to the freckle under his lip with the hand that sports your friendship bracelet. “In the morning, when we wake up, you’ll still be here to hold me tight. And every other morning after that.”
His smile widens even more, if that was even possible. “Wouldn’t want it any other way. But━”
“On one condition.”
His eyes sparkle cheekily. “Kiss me.”
So, you do, again and again and again; and Jungkook thinks, yeah, he certainly can get used to this.
It takes you a month to cave in to Jungkook’s incessant pleas to fuck you to his sex playlist. You do it mostly to humour him, though part of you is a little bit intrigued at the thought.
Stowed away in his room, he eats you out to the choruses of sultry The Weeknd and raunchy Ariana Grande songs, fucks you to the likes of the Neighbourhood and Kim Petras while you’re on all fours, and you’re only half-paying attention to the music until you hear it. Admittedly, you almost completely miss it but you blame Jungkook and the way he’s making you currently feel, sprawled out beneath him, chests pressed flush against one another in a sweaty, sticky mess, breathy and glorious moans of your name filling your ears when━
“I had no choice but to hear you. You stated your case time and again━”
The dulcet chime of Alanis Morissette thrums about the room, a complete and utter shift in contrast in the atmosphere that has you immediately pausing.
“Jungkook.” But he knows what you set out to say even before you do, judging by the tone in your voice and the stifling smirk on his face. You gawk at him, biting at your lip to hide your laughter but you fail miserably. “You weren’t joking?”
He shrugs innocently, leaving you just as dumbfounded as you were two seconds ago. Instead, he says, “Gotta do what I promised then, don’t I?”
You quirk a brow. “What was that exactly?”
“Gotta give you the best orgasm of your life.”
“If you can do that to cheesy 90s pop, I’ll have your actual babies, Jungkook.” The effort is endearing and impressive, to say the least.
A roll of your eyes is met with a taunting roll of his hips into yours that wipes the jest off your face immediately. He grins like a madman, uttering a little stupidly, and a little ardently, “Say no more.”
Because, all things considered and joking aside, he wants it with you ━ the dazed daydreamy talk of a future together and kids, friendship bracelets, and cuddles in the morning. Because you mean the world to him and more. Because you’re his best friend, and he’s so madly in love with you.
Because he wants it all with you.
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summary ─ “fuck him,” you muttered. “fuck him sideways.”
pairing ─ avenger!alpha!bucky barnes x omega!reader
warnings ─ smut, +18, a/b/o dynamics, mutual pining, flirting, kissing, light choking (:d), rough sex, getting together, heat/rut sex, scenting, idiots in love
a/n ─ blame seb for that ig story picture. it made me do it. but seriously, can he choke me. anyway sfjdsjf hope you like it! leave a comment if you do! thankl youuuu <333 (italic is bucky, bold is reader) enjoy this 5.6k monstrosity.
You and Bucky had been flirting for some time, but it was more of a friendly flirting rather than something more. He would call you cute pet names and let you play with his hair on movie nights, and you would let him cuddle or hug you whenever he needed touch. You liked spending time and having a lot of fun with him.
Sometimes you scented each other, too.
His scent was reminding you all kinds of things that you considered safety and homey, so you never said ‘no’ when he wanted to scent you. He let you scent him back most of the time and you used it on his behalf; scenting him when he felt anxious, letting him bury his nose into your neck so that he’d calm down after a brutal mission or nightmare. It worked well for both of you.
Sometimes, though, you wished something more from him. There were times where you wanted him to kiss you, to pull you flush against his muscle-clad, big and warm body and to touch you like that. You wanted to know how his arousal smelled like up-close, but you were valuing your friendship a bit too much to make a move; you were afraid that you’d lose him, and you couldn’t take the risk.
So, you kept it to yourself.
Times went by while both of you went on with your cute flirting and occasional hair-playing and cuddle/hug and scenting game. You knew you should have stopped scenting him back, you didn’t want to get in between him and his potential mate, since he’d been seeing other women sometimes. You overheard him and Sam talking about Tinder and getting dates from there. You also saw him carrying a gorgeous blonde to his room while kissing the daylight out of her.
You wanted so badly to be her, but it was just not possible. You knew it.
Sighing to yourself, you wiggled under your thick duvet, burying your body into the bed even more. It was way too late for you to be awake, but you couldn’t sleep. Your bed was comfy, warm and you put your duvet into a position that got you looking like a burrito. You were supposed to be passed out with these beautiful conditions, but your body was too hot, you felt too itchy to go to sleep. Your heat was close. You could sense it; you were in the pre-heat phase and you had about two days until it hit you.
You growled to yourself angrily a little as you wiggled a bit more. Your head was partially under your pillow when you heard your phone ping-ing. Frowning, you stuck your hand out to grab it, seeing that you had one unread message. You opened it.
“Oh, fuck,” you moaned out accidentally when you saw what it was.
It was Bucky. He was shirtless and had his dog tags on. He was holding a cup in his big hands. All the muscles and veins were visible and bulging. He had a flirtatious look on his face. He seemed to wearing thin basketball shorts under, but they did very little to hide whatever he was… hiding there.
“Shit,” you whimpered. Your face was heating up rapidly. You felt your body was ready to burst, explode, whatever. Your heart was beating in your mouth. You could feel your pussy getting wet and even throb a little. You swallowed the spit that collected in your mouth when you heard another ping.
ah, shit, sorry, doll. i meant to send that to someone else.
Well, you thought and sighed.
“It’s not fair,” you whined and inched down on your bed, your legs spreading themselves instinctively. You bit your lip. You could finally make a move and say something suggestive, or you could just… chicken out. “Fuck him,” you muttered. “Fuck him sideways.” Your phone ping-ed again.
how is it look, though? i’m not sure about sending it rn
i think i’m chickening out
You rolled your eyes as his texts. Of course he didn’t like the picture where he looked so fucking sexy.
no, you look good, you texted him back. you look damn good, actually. idk why you’re chickening out. You saw the three dots that were inclining that he was writing and waited.
i dunno, he sent. she’s real nice, ya know. i don’t wanna fuck up
“Fuck whoever she is,” you whispered. “Fuck her if she thinks you’re fucking up when you send her a picture like this.”
why would sending a shirtless pic make you fuck up anyways?
she might think i’m a bit forward? idk honey i really care about her and i don’t want her to think i’m only talking to her bc i wanna fuck her ‘til she passes out.
“What the fuck,” you whispered again, your eyes narrowing and scent turning into its sickly sweet self by the half-dirty talk. Bucky never said anything to you like this before. You shared almost everything, but when the subject was sex Bucky was always a bit shy. Now, though, he didn’t sound shy. “I shouldn’t find this sexy.”
well, i don’t think she’ll have a problem with that, pal. esp with that pic
The three dots appeared again.
so you’re saying that she’ll know that my only purpose isn’t fucking her through her mattress?
i mean i know this isn’t a dick pic but still
You shake your head fondly. Even when he was trying to sext with a woman, he was being a gentleman. You liked that about him. He was always thinking how the other person would feel if his actions were to get misunderstood. It was cute.
you’re cute, you sent. she’ll understand.
Dots appeared but disappeared a second later. It repeated itself for a couple time before it totally vanished. You frowned but didn’t think too much about it. There really wasn’t much he could say to your last text, you thought. Maybe he finally sent the picture to the person who should have received it in the first place.
You took a deep breath as you looked at the picture again.
God, he was so handsome. He recently had a haircut, and it looked very good on him. He had faint stubble. When you first looked at the picture, you thought he had a flirtatious look, but actually he was just adorable. He was caught in mid-wink, you thought. His flesh hand was dwarfing the big navy colored mug he had in his hand. You knew that mug, you bought him that as a birthday gift, and it was a very big one. You never noticed how big his hands were before, but now that you knew, it was going to be hard to take your eyes away from them.
“Ugh,” you grunted, feeling the itchy sensation increasing. “Fuck me.” Locking your phone, you dropped it on your night stand. You were wet and horny, but you didn’t have any energy to touch yourself. So, you just hugged your pillow and closed your eyes.
The morning found you pouring yourself a cereal with still sleepy eyes. The sun was shining brightly, the kitchen was quiet and it seemed like you were the only living creature in the tower. You yawned as you put the cereal box down and poured some milk into your bowl. You perched yourself onto the chair by the kitchen island and dug into your cereal.
You had… vivid dreams last night. It included a pair of hands touching your naked skin, blur of colors and some moaning. You vaguely remembered that there were hushed whispers of a little dirty talk, but the details blurred as soon as you woke up.
That meant you were even achier than last night. You grunted into your cereal.
“Hey,” you heard someone murmur and jumped, it was Bucky. He looked like he just came back from a run. “Shit, sorry,” Bucky muttered. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” You shrugged as you slurped the last of your cereal. With the corner of your eyes, you saw his nostrils flare and realized he was scenting the air. “Y’alright, doll?”
“Mmhm, just achy,” you murmured and carried your bowl to the sink. Bucky stayed silent and watched you washing your bowl and rolling your shoulders a couple times. He could smell your scent; it was content but somehow… off. He also knew your heat was close. Your scent was too sweet albeit being a little off, it was like he just stepped into a bakery and got hit with freshly baked goods. It was mouthwatering. Eyes narrowing, Bucky murmured a silent ‘fuck it’ to himself, he stepped behind you.
“You seem awfully tense, honey,” Bucky muttered into your ear as he pressed his body to yours. “Couldn’t sleep well?” You tensed. You could feel the heat coming off of his body, could smell his clean sweat, cologne and his own musk; it was woody and fresh: like a bonfire in the middle of a forest. More importantly, you could feel all the muscles and ridges on his body against yours.
“Somethin’ like that,” you whispered. Bucky cooed at you softly. His arms wound themselves around your waist, pulling you in and making you rest your body against his. His scent surrounded you in a second, and you felt like you were being cocooned in your bed by your soft blankets.
“Breathe with me, love,” he murmured. “It will help you loosen up.” You swallowed and nodded. Feeling his chest moving behind you, you followed his movements. “That’s it,” he said, “You’re doing great.” You breathed in, in, and in and then let it ouuuut. You felt your shoulder relax a bit. “That’s it,” he whispered and─
His lips were right over your pulse. His stubble was rubbing the sensitive flesh of your neck. You shuddered uncontrollably. Bucky hushed you as his lips brushed against your skin. His hot breath was licking your neck, making the hair on your body rise. He nosed your glands there; taking lungful of your scent, Bucky grumbled to himself about how good you smell.
With a small grunt of his, he took a step forward and cornered you against the counter. You gasped.
“Hmm,” Bucky hummed, “You are tense, honey.” His lips found your jaw, his nose poked your temple and you shuddered again.
It felt like you were underwater but weren’t drowning; everything was peaceful quiet, and you were floating.
“Bucky,” you whispered. He hummed. “Bucky…” He kissed your neck, bit down on the flesh and sucked it a little. You felt your legs tremble when you felt your heat creeping in even closer and grabbed his arms around your waist for support. You tipped your head back, exposing your throat to him, and closed your eyes.
Placing kisses all over your neck, nibbling on your jaw, one of his hands grabbed your face to turn it towards him. “Tell me you don’t want it, and I’ll stop. I promise I’ll stop.” You didn’t say anything but leaned into his touch. “Tell me.”
“I want it,” you whispered, surpassing a shiver. Your heat was taking over your body, and Bucky needed the verbal confirmation before it consumed you.
“Honey,” he said softly. “Your heat is starting, do you want me to help you?” You gasped silently, realizing that you were feeling woozy a little and your vision was fuzzy around the edges, now.
“Yes,” you answered him. “Please, alpha?”
Bucky’s chest rumbled lightly with approval and captured your lips with his. You moaned into his mouth. It was as soft as it looked and was caressing yours so nicely. You whimpered as you sneaked your hand into his slightly damp hair. You craned your neck to deepen the kiss, letting your tongue join the game, too. Bucky groaned.
“Fuck, love,” he whimpered. “Your skin feels so soft under my hands, your body is so warm… Mmm, I wanna eat you right up.” You wiggled in his arms.
“Please,” you whispered. Bucky bit down on your bottom lip. His other hand sneaked into your pajama bottoms, sliding right into your panties and nudging your clit gently. You gasped loudly as Bucky cursed.
“Holy shit, honey,” Bucky groaned. “You’re wetting your pajama bottoms with your slick.” You whimpered when you felt one long digit swiping the slick that gathered between the lips of your pussy. “Is it for me?” He asked, a low growl could be heard in his voice. You nodded. Bucky tugged on your hair. “Words. Use’em.”
“Yes!” You cried out. “Yes, only for you, Bucky, yes!”
“That’s more like it,” Bucky murmured and slid two of his fingers inside you. Biting your lip to stop yourself moan loudly, your hand tightened in Bucky’s hair and you bared your throat to Bucky by the throwing your head back even more, submitting him.
The way Bucky was fingering you was relentless; two of his long and thick fingers were stroking your wet walls, crooking them to graze over your sensitive spot sometimes while the heel of his hand was pressing down on your clit. You were being stimulated from almost all your open ended nerves so perfectly, you wanted to cry.
“I wish you see how you look right now, baby,” Bucky whispered. “You’re so deep into your pleasure...” You hummed and let out a gasp when he crooked his fingers again. “You take my fingers so nicely. My hand is drenched, baby, goddamn.” He nosed your bared throat, taking deep breaths, Bucky filled his lungs with your sweet heat scent. “Gotta get you to your room, love. The whole kitchen is gonna smell like your heat if we don’t.” You whined, but you weren’t lost in your head yet, so you knew he was right. You nodded. Bucky kissed your neck and suddenly, your world was upside down.
You were thrown over his shoulder like he was a caveman and you were his prey. “Bucky!” He chuckled, his metal hand slapping your ass, he stepped into the elevator and told Jarvis to go up to your floor. He carried you like that throughout the whole trip. You got to feel his back muscles all the way to your room, though, so you thought it wasn’t so bad.
Bucky dropped you on the floor gently. You were standing right in front of your room. “I can wait here,” Bucky murmured and continued when he saw your confused look. “While you are getting nest sorted out, I can wait here.”
Your heart swelled in your chest because ain’t he the most thoughtful.
“Aww, James,” you whispered. He just smiled and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Really?” He nodded. You knew he took these kinds of things serious because he was a bit old-school, but you liked that about him very much.
“Yeah,” he said. “Actually, why don’t you go ahead and sort your nest out while I get us some water and snacks?” You placed your hand on your heart.
“A man after my stomach,” you said dreamily, making him snort. “Okay.” He kissed your neck one more time and walked back to the elevator.
You had a spring on your step as you walked inside of your room and stripping the bed from unnecessary things. You pulled out your softest linens, blankets and pillows; arranging them on the bed the way you liked, you added some extra tiny pillows. It looked inviting, personal and smelled like you strongly. You smiled, pleased with your efforts. Just as you sat down on the bed in your underwear, you had kept your oversize t-shirt though, you heard a knock.
“Come in!” You called out and saw Bucky’s smiling, handsome face. He had arms full of snacks and water bottles, he also had other things which you couldn’t figure out what. You watched him as he put the things he carried into your room on your small desk.
“I, uh,” he started, suddenly looking bashful. “I thought you might want, uh,” Bucky stammered over his words and just handed you something.
It was his blanket from his bed and the sweatshirt you saw him wearing yesterday.
“I can always put them aside or bring more, whatever you want,” Bucky hurriedly added. You shook your head as you reached and took them from him. You folded the sweatshirt and put it right next to your bed where you would be reaching something to wear after you were through, and spread the blanket on your bed, rearranging your pillows. You took your t-shirt off before you turned and faced with Bucky.
You walked up to him slowly until you were standing right in front of him. You could see his nostrils flaring, pupils dilating and him scenting the air. “Kiss me, alpha?” Bucky let out a broken sound before he pulled you against his body, his flesh hand cradling your face gently, and leaned down to give you the kiss that you asked for so nicely.
It was, hands down, the most loving and gentle kiss you’ve ever had. It was nothing like the kiss you’ve shared in the kitchen. This one was chaste. Bucky’s lips were soft, and he was kissing you like a longtime lover. Moaning lightly, you tilted your head to your side and deepened the kiss a bit; pushing up on your tiptoes and winding your arms around his neck, you felt his arms wrapping themselves around your waist one more time.
You felt amazingly consumed and caged and overwhelmed, and you were fucking loving it.
Bucky pulled back slightly. “Bed,” he commanded. His voice was rough and low. His woodsy, fresh smell had taken a sharp turn and now it was more like burning wood and citrus. You loved how forest-y his scent was. You quickly climbed on the bed, and a second later Bucky joined you.
His big body caged yours under him. The body heat this man had was driving you crazy because he was so fucking warm, it made you want to wrap yourself around him like a koala and never let go.
“Bucky…” You breathed when you felt his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin of your neck, gasped when he placed a soft bite there. His light stubble was rubbing your skin raw, but you were loving it just like everything else. You felt him press his body against yours fully as he drew in a deep breath.
“God, your scent is drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy,” he murmured and kissed his way downwards. He stopped when he came across to your bra, looking up in your eyes, he silently asked for permission to take it off. You nodded. As soon as your breasts were free from their containment, Bucky latched on to one of your nipples, making you throw your head back and moan loudly.
“Fuck!” You yelped when he bit down and sucked and did… things with his tongue. He was licking and sucking, his saliva had covered your nipple and you could hear the slurping sound. It was so sexy, the pleasure was so intense; you felt like you were about to come. Whimpering, you slid your hands in his short hair, pulling and scratching his scalp. Bucky hummed. The vibrations and the graze of his teeth made you hiss, your body was trashing beneath his strong one.
Bucky pulled back with a ‘pop’, licking his lips, his fingers toyed with your other nipple. “How are you feelin’, love?” He asked. You panted lightly as you gave him thumbs up but yelped again when he pinched your nipple. “Words,” he growled. “I told you to use them.”
“’m good,” you whimpered, nipple throbbing deliciously. “’m good, I swear, ‘m fine, alpha.” Bucky hummed at the name. He always liked being called ‘alpha’ during sex before, he was never shy to tell his partners to call him that when he wanted to end his dancing night with someone, but hearing you call him that was turning him on in a whole different level.
Growling approvingly to himself, Bucky’s fingers found the hem of your panties. Before he could ask for permission, you lifted your hips to help him remove them easily. Bucky took a hold of the flimsy fabric, quickly dragging it down your beautiful legs, he threw them somewhere in the room. You were now under him with all your naked fucking glory, and Bucky’s mouth was watering at the sight of you. His gums were hurting with the desire to claim and mark you.
“You are gorgeous, baby,” Bucky murmured, fingers trailing over your soft skin and making you shiver happily. He leaned in. His light stubble rasped against your nipple as he nosed your collarbone, licking and sucking small marks there. You sighed. Your hands were buried deep in his short hair, the fluffiness of it turning into a messy state. “You feel so good against me,” he murmured again, lips brushing over the sensitive skin of your breasts. You whimpered. The ache between your legs was getting intolerable with each passing second, and you wanted him to take you already.
“Bucky…” You breathed. “Please, Bucky, alpha, I-I can’t, it h-hurts,” you babbled, hands now clawing his strong and wide shoulders. Quickly, Bucky shushed you with kisses, murmured filthy nonsense into your ear as he trailed one hand down your front. You gasped when his fingers brushed against your clit. It was already so sensitive and throbbing and aching─
“So wet,” Bucky whispered. “I’m gonna taste it later.” He brushed his fingers up and down for a couple times and pulled his hand back. “Now, we make your hurting stop, love.” You nodded. Your eyes were half-closed, you looked debauched without Bucky doing anything properly yet, and more importantly you looked drunk with only a couple kisses and touching from him.
If that ain’t the best kind of ego boost, I don’t know what is, Bucky thought to himself as he bit his lip and removed his clothes. Your sweet heat scent was filling his lungs and the room, and making him feel lightheaded. His skin was prickling with the intensity of your scent. He knew very well no matter how many times he’d shower that he would be smelling like you even days after your heat ended. Honestly, that would be a dream come true for Bucky.
His crush on you was getting stronger rather than dying down. He had tried dating with other people, hooking up or just spend his rut with at least a partner, but he just couldn’t because his body was yearning yours. His lungs were desperate for your sweet, calming scent filling them, his fingers were itching to feel your skin, and his lips were tingling to meet with yours… His whole body had been wanting you, no one else had made him feel this way before.
“God, Y/N,” Bucky breathed. His eyes were now fully black, face darkened with lust and his body heat had increased. He was about to enter his rut, he knew it. Bucky leaned forward and licked a fat line from your collarbone to all the way up to your ear, making your bonding glands throb. You gasped at the feeling.
“Fuck, Bucky!” You sighed, eyes screwed shut. Bucky hummed. His fingers moved south, were quick to find your dripping and aching core, he slipped two of his fingers in you. You moaned. His fingers were moving in and out of you rapidly, thumb pressing lightly on your clit. He could feel the poor thing throb beneath his fingertip, Bucky chuckled against your throat and nipped the skin there. You moaned one more time, but louder, your nails dug them deep into Bucky’s meaty shoulders. Bucky hissed at the slight pain, but all the pain during sex was welcomed in his book.
Bucky pulled his fingers out and pushed off of you, ignoring your little whines. “Present,” he ordered, his voice was still soft even though his commanding tone. Whimpering, you flipped onto your tummy, pressed your chest against the soft linens beneath you and lifted your ass high up on the air. Bucky groaned. “Damn, kitten,” he whispered. You shivered. He placed his hands on your ass, and then moved them up, up, up and slid one of them into your hair. “Do I need a condom?” You nodded.
“Birth control is no good for me,” you panted lightly. Bucky nodded, pressing a kiss on your cheek, he leaned sideways to grab a condom from his bedside drawer. You rubbed your face, wiggled your hips and fisted the bedding as Bucky put on the condom. As soon as he was done, he walked closer to you on his knees and immediately draped his body onto yours. You sighed at the skin-to-skin contact.
“Tell me if you want to or need me to stop because you don’t like what we’re doing, alright?” Bucky murmured. You nodded.
“I will,” you slurred slightly and earned another kiss on your cheek. You hummed happily. You felt the blunt tip of his cock against your wet folds and held your breath. With a smooth, slow thrust of his hips, Bucky slid into you. “Fuuuck,” you sighed, eyes closed and mouth open, drooling just a little bit. The ache in your core was disappeared as soon as Bucky filled you up.
“Goddamn,” Bucky gritted. Your pussy was hugging his hard as hell cock so nicely, Bucky felt like he was being wrapped with the softest blankets to ever exist. Falling onto his elbows, Bucky placed kisses on your bare shoulders. He moved his arms carefully and wrapped them around your torso. One of his hands was wrapped lightly around your neck, and you felt another flame taking over your body with the feeling.
“Move,” you whispered. “Alpha, please, move.” Bucky shushed you gently. Never stopping peppering kisses on your shoulder, neck and cheek, Bucky moved his hips slowly at first. You gasped, head thrown back on Bucky’s shoulder, you closed your eyes.
Your mind was fogged, body wrung tight with sexual frustration and the coil in your belly was burning hotter each passing second. You could feel your heat taking over your body. Bucky’s strong scent was covered with the traces of faint rut, and his scent was clogging up all your senses.
It felt magnificent.
“Alpha,” you moaned when his cock touched a spot in you, your body suddenly waking up. Bucky grunted. His rut was making him a little non-verbal, but he was okay with it. “Faster,” you whimpered. “Faster, harder, alpha, fuck!” The breath knocked out of your lungs with Bucky’s hard thrust.
Grunting and rumbling deep in his chest, Bucky started slamming into you. Your slick was now covering his inner thighs and groin, making these obscene sounds to echo in your room and your skin to stuck each other whenever Bucky’s pelvis kissed yours. You whimpered. Your body was both loosening up and tightening even more as Bucky’s thrusts became harder and deeper. Your body was melting under his, muscles were getting lax because of the rut scent and soft rumbles Bucky was occasionally letting out.
“Mmm,” Bucky hummed, nose poking your bonding glands. “You smell so good, omega,” he murmured, and you shuddered under him. Bucky chuckled darkly. His hot breath licked over your pulse. His short fangs grazed over the sensitive skin, tongue poking out to lick and suck as his pace turned into even something more feral. The sound of skin slapping skin was so loud, you were deafened by it.
You whimpered when you felt his teeth again. You had no fear of Bucky mating you, you knew him enough to know that he wouldn’t do that, but feeling him dragging his fangs up and down like that on your bonding glands was incredibly turning you on. You grabbed onto his arms when he slightly straightened up so that he could drive in you deeper.
“Shit,” you gasped. Bucky growled. His arms around your neck tightened its hold a bit, enough to make you feel every drag of oxygen. “Fuck, Bucky─” His cock was driving in and out of you at a mad pace, balls slapping against your clit and obscene sounds of your wet pussy was driving you even crazier.
With a snarl, Bucky pulled you up against him, flipping you on your back in a matter of seconds. When he slid into your once again, you felt the bulge of his knot at the base of his cock. You gasped, looking down, your mouth hung open on its own. Bucky chuckled.
“That mouth of yours is hungry, ain’t it?” He asked, a filthy smirk on his face. You tried to swallow the spit, but he didn’t let you. He stuffed three of his metal fingers into your mouth. “Suck on’em, honey,” he ordered lovingly. You moaned as you did what you were being told and felt his pace falter for a second. “Fuck.” You hummed around his fingers. His rut scent getting stronger, covering your body, your bed and leaving its mark deep into your bones, you felt like a cat under the sun.
Bucky placed his flesh hand on your pussy. His hips were moving with a rapid pace, your fluids were mixing with his. His thumb found your clit and started to play with it. You cried out. your back arching, you moaned around his fingers, your pussy tightening on his cock. Bucky gasped and grunted. His balls were hurting because of how full they were.
“Come for me,” he whispered. “Fuckin’ come for me, omega,” his harsh whispering voice commanded. You felt your eyes roll back as the pleasure and blinding orgasm took over your body. Bucky cursed as he felt your mouth watering even more around his fingers, pussy walls clamping on his cock and knot. Gasping, Bucky leaned in and pulled his fingers out your mouth so that he could kiss you. Bucky was so close, so fucking close─
“Mmm,” you hummed into his kiss. “C’me f’r me, alpha,” you murmured, placing sloppy kisses on his mouth. “C’mon, breed me, fill me up, make a mess─”
Groaning loudly, Bucky slammed forward one last time before he felt his knot popped. His balls seized so hard, Bucky let out a wounded sound. You shushed him. Placing your hands on his face, you kissed him. He sighed into the kiss as he thrusted in and out of you slowly, fucking his come deeper into you.
“Fuck, honey,” Bucky breathed out when the intense part of his orgasm washed away. You smiled, kissing him again. Bucky kissed you back soundly. “Damn, I’ve never come that hard before,” he said, chuckling.
“Good,” you said. Your scent flaring up with smugness, Bucky laughed.
“Yeah, alright, you’re possessive,” he said with a smile on his face. You felt your cheeks heat up and ducked your head. Bucky continued to smile but couldn’t stop himself from leaning down for another kiss.
After a couple minutes of lazy make-out, Bucky carefully re-arranged your positions so that he could cuddle you without crushing you. You lay like that in silence, feeling content. Your heat and his rut had diminished for the time being, giving you some time to recover. You were playing with his metal hand when the thought struck you.
“Hey,” you murmured, and Bucky hummed as an answer. “What did she say?” You asked him. He made a confused sound.
“Who? About what?”
“You sent me a picture last night and said you were chickening out because she was real nice and you don’t wanna fuck it up,” you explained, a little bit jealousy slipping into your scent. “Did you send her the picture? What did she say?” You felt him freeze momentarily, but then he let out a small chuckle.
“I sent it, yes,” he said. “She said that I look damn good and that I can’t fuck this thing up, not with that picture, and that I’m cute and she’ll understand why I sent it.”
“It was intentional,” you murmured. Bucky hummed in approval, kissing your shoulder and tightening his arms around you. “You asshole,” you shrieked, hitting his arm. “You could have just come to me!” Bucky laughed as you hit him again.
“I’m sorry!” He said. “I actually didn’t mean to send you that picture, I swear. I hit send accidentally, but I also said ‘might as well’ afterwards, so,” he murmured, shrugging.
“God, I can’t believe this,” you grumbled. Bucky nuzzled your neck. “I couldn’t sleep last night because of that picture,” you admitted.
Bucky frowned. “Why?”
“I was horny, Bucky,” you said. Bucky let out a loud laugh.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured, but you knew he wasn’t sorry at all.
“No, you’re not,” you rolled your eyes, pouting at the same time.
“No, I’m not,” he agreed, slowly moving on top of you. “I can make it up, though…” Kissing your cheek, he poked your nose with his playfully. “You said you were horny, right? How about I do something about that?” You smirked.
“I’m in heat, Barnes,” you said. “You better make it up to me.” Bucky smirked right back at you.
“Your wish is my command, m’Queen,” he said, sweeping you into a passionate kiss.
tell me what you think please!!
6K notes · View notes
DC, I’m begging you:
- Give us a Batfam animated series that follows them all in their day and night lives. Can it be ‘gritty’ or whatever words you like to use to describe those New Jersey bat/bird furries while fighting crime.
- But also just give us Dick driving Damian to school and Jason insisting he tags along just to embarrass the kid at drop off/pick up.
-Give us Tim with the biggest fucking bags under his eyes deadpanning while Dick teaches Damian how to hang from the chandelier while Alfred is hitting them with a fucking feather duster trying to get them down.
-Give me Jason and Cass talking about classic lit completely unfazed while Damian chases Tim around the manor with his katanas.
-Give me Steph threatening to eat Batcow when Damian makes fun of her.
-Give me Bruce getting scolded by everyone when he puts his feet up on the coffee table despite it being “my own damn house.”
-Give me Alfred having the week off and Bruce goes shopping and Duke decides to tag alone because he is convinced Bruce is going to make a fool of himself after they had this exact conversation:
- Give me Babs, Steph, Kate and Cass having a girls night and all the brothers get jealous and try to sabotage it but the girls are always one step ahead and by the end of it they invite everyone in to hang with them. Dick and Jason painting each others nails the most garish colors they can find, Damian eating the cucumbers off of Tim’s eyes just to piss him off, and Babs, Steph, Cass, and Kate immediately regretting inviting them to join. Duke was invited from the get go to hang with them but declined to go patrol because “the goons are less crazy than y’all I stg.”
- Give me a halloween special where Dick enters a nightwing costume contest and comes in 2nd place because “while your costume is pretty spot on, you just don’t have nightwing’s ass.” He was fine with this until he finds out the winner was Jason and has an identity crisis over whether or not he has the best ass in the family. Jason proudly puts his little trophy on the mantle for Dick to see every time he comes to the manor.
- Give me Tim getting angry at Jason and every time Jason tries to talk to him he pretends Jason is dead again. “God, it’s like I can still hear his voice.” “Dickhead, tell Tim to stop. I’m the only Robin who can make dead jokes.” “I died too, Jay.” “Shut up, Dick. You died for like 2 minutes before Luther revived you and then lied to us about being dead.” “...” “Todd, you buffoon, I died too.” “Fuck off, demon.”
- For the love god, give me an episode where they all have to go to a gala and all the shenanigans that ensue while they’re there and Bruce just looks utterly exhausted.
- Jason Todd is still technically ‘dead’ but decides to go to the gala anyways and at one point Dick pulls him to the dance floor as a joke but the media has a fucking field day thinking Dick has this mysterious boyfriend and Bruce has to pull some press conference bullshit where they’re like “.... Dick isn’t dating that man. It would be weird considering that’s my dead son Jason.” And Jason, instead of taking any of the questions or telling the doctored story of why he isn’t dead, just adds on “Yeah, why would I date Dickface? Have you seen him? He’s a man whore, I need someone loyal. And preferably not related.”
- Give me Dick keeping a scrapbook of all the patrols him and Damian went on where there are pictures of Damian labeled things like “Robin’s first joker venom ❤️” and it’s Damian glaring under a ventilator mask or whatever looking eerily like Bruce.
- Give me a beach episode where they never actually get to the beach because this whole family, for being known for being prepared for anything and everything, apparently does not know how to pack for free time. Bruce tries to bring the shark repellant and Cass just face palms while wearing the widest brimmed sun hat known to man.
- Give Steph and Dick interrogating potential perps vis a vis this scene in B99
- Give me an episode where Bruce is on patrol being a little too rough and gruesome (even for him) and pushing everyone away and it takes the entire family to pull him off of someone who they assumed did something particularly nefarious but when they finally pull him back they see it’s a petty thief clutching a string of pearls and they all decide to bench Bruce. They all force Bruce to go home for the night and stay with him and watch a movie. Bruce puts on The Mask of Zorro and when all the kids look uneasy, he goes on to say “This is the last happy memory I had with them... ___ years ago today.” And it all comes crashing down on them why he was so adamant on the jewelry thief with the pearls today of all days.
- Honestly this is just my tl;dr way of saying “DC, let me be in the writing room for an animated series surrounding the Batfam”
3K notes · View notes
(Not my Gif.)
Summary: Zemo gives you what he thinks you deserve. *Some TFATWS Ep. 3 Spoilers.*
Pairing: Zemo x Reader (Female)
Warnings: Smut for days baby. Dirty Talking, Possession, marking, Soft!Dom Zemo. 18+ Only.
Word Count: 4.2K
A/N: Look we all know we're walking dangerous territory, simping for a war criminal. But Sugar Daddy Zemo got me feeling some type of way and also, Daniel Brüle is hot asf. Also, I don't actually know german so pls if it's off just blame google translate, I just have an insatiable language kink and I needed the pet names more than air itself. I thought about making this a chaptered fic, but I barely had the time to write this, never mind chapters of it before he likely fucks over Sam and Bucky next episode. Anyways, enjoy!
Here’s the thing.
You knew he was dangerous. You knew his past, the EKO Scorpion kill squad and everything with the Avengers, manipulating them and breaking them up from the inside. He was smart, unpredictable. You knew there was a very real potential that you could be hurt - or worse - if you went down the road.
And maybe, in a past life that would’ve been enough to stop you. But you weren’t who you used to be. You liked playing with fire now, inviting danger and chaos rather than straying from it. You had lived in - hid in, was more accurate - Madripoor for a handful of years now. You laid low, kept yourself under the radar of the Power Broker and those who worked for him. This way, no one bothered you and you could live fragments of a normal life, Trading and bartering to make a living. But living this way, like forgotten trash on a sidewalk, got old.
Maybe that’s why when you caught his attention, you didn’t shy away from it.
It had happened so fast. You were dancing, just intoxicated enough that the rubbing of strangers' bodies against yours was not just welcomed, but encouraged. So encouraged that when a new body, tall and firm behind you, took the place of another, you didn’t hesitate to back up into the warmth. His hands gripped your hips tightly, not stopping or guiding you, just resting. Turning your head slightly to see what your new dance partner looked like, you startled a little seeing the Baron.
Helmut chuckled, a low sound you felt rather than heard, and ducked his head down to speak into your ear, “You know who I am.”
You let your body relax back into his, feeling reckless enough to bless the menacing man with your flirtations, your head falling back onto his, “I’ve heard a thing or two.”
“And yet you trust me to hold you like this,” his hands flex on your hips, just hard enough to show the strength they hold, “Like a lover.”
You grab one of his hands, leading it down to your upper thigh where your knife holster sits, never once letting his hand leave your body.
“If I didn’t want you touching me, you’d know it, Baron.”
The gust of breath you felt against the side of your neck and the large hand gripping your thigh had shivers rolling pleasantly down your spine.
“You are far too beautiful to reside in these undergrounds,” he spun you around in his grasp, allowing you to get a good look at his face, “A woman like yourself should be treated with the most expensive riches, the finest wines. She should drain a man of his earnings.”
You laughed, not expecting the words that came from his mouth nor how handsome he was, even this close, “Point me to the man who’s willing.”
He smirked at you, but there was a smugness to it. A glimmer in his eye that suggested he had the riches and the desire to give you anything you wanted. You felt like you were drowning in his gaze, lost as you were under the heat of it. He looked somewhere behind you, pulling his eyes from you to nod once at whatever, or whoever, had stolen his attention from you. When they returned to you, the heat and desire were replaced with determination.
“It is with great regret that I must leave you, for now,” He captured your hand, bringing it up to his lips, the softness of them brushing lightly against your knuckles, “I can get you out of Madripoor, give you a life you deserve. If you meet me tomorrow morning, the airstrip.”
The world felt like it froze around you. The rational part of your brain was screaming at you. You couldn’t trust him. You Shouldn’t trust him. But as you stared into his eyes you saw nothing but honesty.
“And if I don’t?” You ask, just to buy yourself some time.
His hand travels up your arm, taking your chin between his thumb and pointer finger securely, “I will not pressure you. I’d leave you be, but the ghost of you would haunt me, schatzi.”
And with that, he was gone. Leaving you with nothing more than your thoughts, mentally preparing how quickly you could pack your things and leaving Madripoor behind. After all, you’ve always loved taking risks.
The next few weeks were a blur. Zemo was laying low, but his form of laying low was still luxury to you. It was private jets and upscale accommodations, not to mention that he was a man of his word. He spoiled you. Within three days of being in his presence, you had acquired a whole new wardrobe. Your suitcases - also new - were filled to the brim with the fanciest and latest fashion. You had rare jewels on nearly every piece of jewelry you owned. Maybe spoiled was an understatement. You’ve only dreamed of owning riches like these.
He had picked something particular for you to wear tonight, both of you making an appearance at some sort of party with some higher-ups. It was all laid out on the king-sized bed, a little black dress of sorts. It was short and sheer in its long sleeves, the sparkles in the fabric ensured that you would shimmer under any lighting. With a simple clutch, matching jewelry and a cropped, white fur jacket to keep you warm until you got to your destination. You looked good. You felt good.
He looked just as good. Sporting an outfit similar to the one you had met him in, instead choosing a dark red turtleneck to create a stunning relation between both your outfits. Nothing had happened between the two of you yet. Aside from lingering glances and innocent touches, he had been a gentleman. The chemistry was there, for sure. You were able to joke and talk with the man, matching his wit and charm every step of the way. And he loved it.
“Best behaviour tonight, schatzi.” He had said, low in your ear as you walked towards the venue.
You had smiled back at him, the perfect picture of innocence, “Always, Baron.”
And at the time, you had fully meant it. But you found yourself craving him. He looked too good, it honestly wasn’t fair. The way that ridiculous fur jacket draped over his shoulders, fostering a powerful ambience. And you knew he was faring no better himself if by the way his eyes were glued to your curves was anything to go by.
So, you decided, maybe you shouldn’t be on your best behaviour tonight. It’s not like you were making a scene or anything that would call too much attention. You were simply letting the alcohol take over your body. Whether that meant a hand on his thigh as you listened to the conversations around you, your fingers playing with the short hairs at the back of his neck or dancing a little too scandalously when you knew he was watching. You felt confident. And when you felt confident, you felt dangerous.
By the end of the night, you were teasing yourself just as much as you were him. You were pushing your luck, hands trailing a little too close to the bulge in his slacks, enjoying the way his facial features changed briefly in shock before settling back into that infuriating unmovable stoic impression. The last straw was you bending in front of him, having ‘dropped’ something from your purse. You only had to bend so much before the dress, as short as it was, had ridden up just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your panties.
In an instant, he had you standing upright, thanking whoever he had been talking to for a wonderful night, tugging your dress back down to a respectable length and steering you towards the door by the back of your neck.
“That was not best behaviour,” he growled into your ear.
You giggled, despite the tight grip on your neck, “I was just having fun.”
He had done nothing but stare at you, eyes hard with a warning that had you rethinking your actions. You had forgotten, for a moment, that this man was not just someone to give you all the pretty trinkets you wore. He was a mastermind, a criminal mastermind at that. A man most deemed dangerous enough to be locked away.
“You have been bad tonight, kleine Schlampe.” He said once he had gotten you back to his car, away from the prying eyes and ears of the party guests, “You will spend the trip back thinking of ways to make it up to me.”
The words sent heat through your core, and you did exactly as he said.
By the time he had gotten you up to your accommodations, you had thought of thousands of different scenarios that could earn you forgiveness for your recklessness. You were uncertain if his words earlier had implied sexual favours, or if a simple, genuine apology was all he was looking for. However, once he had turned to you, the room door closing behind him and his eyebrows raised expectantly, you fell to your knees in front of him like it was second nature.
He chuckles darkly at you as he peels his gloves off, tossing them gently onto a side table nearby before letting one hand brush away the hair that had fallen in your face.
“Seems you are meine kleine schlampe indeed,” You had no idea what it meant, but fuck it sounded good coming from him. His eyes were hard and dark as he stared down at you, “If this is the path you’ve chosen to apologize, so be it. But not here, you are meine schlampe not a common whore. Get up. Go to the bedroom.”
You did as he said, quickly pulling yourself up to a standing position and walking to the designated room. The bed, so far, had only been used by you. He hadn’t wanted to push or pressure you into sharing a space with him. He understood that just because you decided to join him, didn’t mean you wanted to be with him. But tonight, you had decided, you wanted to give him your everything. You wanted to show him how grateful you were for all the gifts he’d given you so far. And if you couldn’t give him luxuries, you would give him your desire.
“So,” he began, nodding in approval at the way you resume your position on the floor in front of him, “Let’s begin with the basics.” As he talked, he rolled up his sleeves, doing so with precision, “Tell me, what exactly are you apologizing for?”
He commands every drop of your attention. There’s an aura to him that you had only previously caught a glimpse of. His eyes dark and locked onto yours, never once wavering. Waiting. Calculating.
“For teasing you.”
You take a breath, shame flooding your core at the answer that sits on your tongue.
“For embarrassing you.”
There’s a pause. He cocks his head, gaze softening just a tad. He's quiet for several moments, analyzing your words. Your heart starts to beat a little faster at the extended silence, thinking you’ve done something wrong and you can’t keep up the eye contact. You duck your head, averting your gaze to his feet.
“Look at me, schatzi.” His voice is soft, but still with enough edge to make you listen.
Only once your eyes meet his again does he continue.
“That’s very sweet of you, to be concerned about my image. But make no mistake,” He steps closer to you, letting one hand cup your jaw, tilting it upwards. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, “You could never embarrass me,”
You dip your head, nipping softly at his thumb. He smiles softly at you, something glimmering in his eye, “I simply just don’t like to share what’s mine.”
Your breath leaves your body at his words and suddenly the need for him to claim you had you nearly vibrating in your skin. You watch, every muscle in your body clenched tightly, as he walks slowly over to the armchair in the corner, never once taking his eyes off you. He sits, legs parted, one arm draped off the side, the other rested so he could prop his head up.
Instantly, you make your way over to him. Once in front of him, you stand up on your knees, placing your hands on his knees and slowly sliding them up his thighs. They continue its upward motion, skimming lighting over the hardness in his pants and reaching to start on his belt. You make quick work of his belt and buttons, eagerly working his pants and briefs down. He chuckles above you.
“Mein Schatz, so eager to apologize.” He purrs, almost mockingly, hand coming down to brush the fallen hair away from your face.
Once you had him free, you took a second to admire him. Your legs clenched at the size of him. Not terribly big, but big enough to anticipate the stretch, the fullness. Your eyes flicked back up, looking up at his through your lashes, leaning in but stopping just before you could actually get your mouth on him. The hand that was previously fixing your hair was now clenched in it, messing it up again and forcing your head back suddenly to look at him properly.
“It would not be wise to tease me more than you have,” he warned.
A smirk spread across your features and you quickly realized how much you liked him like this.
However, you knew you were on thin ice already. With that in mind, as soon as his grip loosened you licked a wide stripe up his length, swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him fully into your mouth. The tension his body held melted the second your tongue touched him. His mouth dropping on a soft groan. His hand stroked your hair as you sucked, encouraging the bobs of your head, not forcing but guiding. You keep your eyes trained on his face, not wanting to miss a second of experiencing him like this.
He glows in the low lamplight of the room, the shadows playing across his features delicately. You like him like this too. Reduced to a heap of gasps and moans beneath the heat of your mouth. As you suck, your hands wander, up under the fabric of his shirt, nails dragging down his sides. He hisses at the pain, but doesn’t tell you to stop.
After a few minutes of your slow torture, he decides he’s had enough. His hand tightens in your hair, his movements becoming less gentle and more demanding.
“That’s a good girl, take it all for me.”
You do as he asks, taking a breath before taking him as deep as you can. He groans at the feeling, hips shifting a few times to test you before beginning to thrust in and out of your mouth. Your jaw aches, but his eyes are on you and his thumb is tracing your bottom lip that’s stretched wide around his cock and you think for a second that you could spend eternity like this.
It’s not much longer before he pulls you off his cock, hand wrapping around his base tightly, “Apologies, schatzi. I am out of practice, and I fear I'm not quite finished with you yet.”
You laugh softly, voice rough due to your previous activity, “That’s okay, I don’t mind.” You insist, more than happy to let him finish like this. Whatever he wants.
He stops you before you can dip down again, standing up and taking you with him. For the first time, his lips are on yours. He overwhelms all your senses. His breath loud in your ears, his hands on your waist, his scent. His tongue slides against yours as he walks you forward, shedding his lower clothing as he goes. He only parts to give you an order.
As you do, he finishes undressing and it kills you that can’t see him. Just as quickly as the thought crosses your mind, it’s gone as you feel his hands at the top of your dress. He slides the zipper down, letting the fabric fall off your shoulders. You take the liberty of helping the sleeves the rest of the way down, the fabric falling down around your heels once you’ve done so. He hums behind you.
“Such beauty,” he whispers against your shoulder. His hands begin to wander, around your waist, up underneath the fabric of your bra, down to your thighs and ass. He chuckles, dragging your panties down enough that they too fall, forgotten at your feet, “I can hardly stay mad at you, liebling.”
Your head falls back onto his shoulders as he works your bra off next. You shiver, feeling bare and exposed before him. You want him more than you can express and you let your whole body fall back into his embrace, whimpering at the feeling of him, hard against the swell of your ass.
“Helmut,” you moan, one of your hands finding purchase in his hair as the other rests on one of his forearms.
“Tell me you’re mine, Schatzi. And I’ll give you anything you want.”
“I’m yours,” you say without hesitation, breathless as his hand dips between your legs, finding your clit. He hums, pleased at the arousal he finds there, “I’m yours. Only yours.”
He growls pulling his hand away from, “Lay back on the bed. I’ll be right back.”
You do as he says, positioning yourself in the middle of the bed. While you wait, you let your mind wander, listening to his rummaging somewhere in another room while your mind runs through everything you want him to do to you. At some point, your eyes must close because when you feel the bed dip, they open to see him crawling between your legs.
He’s done messing around, wasting no time before his face is buried between your thighs, hands maneuvering your legs so that they’re thrown over his shoulders, your heels crossing sweetly behind his head, no doubt scratching at his shoulders. Your breath leaves your body at the feeling of his tongue, warm and wet and fan-fucking-tastic. He alternates between dipping it in and out of your heat and flicking it against your clit. Your hand finds his hair, gripping it between your fingers and guiding his movements ever so slightly. His eyes don’t leave yours, spare for the few times he closes them to moan against you.
One of his hands move, leaving its place at your hip to sink two fingers into you. Your head falls back on a moan, back arching up when he crooks his fingers and finds your g-spot.
“Fuck,” you gasp, one hand gripping the pillow behind your head as you feel your orgasm rush towards you, “Fuck- Wait, I-”
You can’t even feel embarrassed about how easily your body has reacted to him. Before you can warn him much more, you're falling over the edge. Your thighs tensing around his head, back arching in pleasure as you ride out your high. In this moment you belong completely to him, unable to think of anything else.
“So sweet for me, liebling.” He comments, hands rubbing up and down your calves as you come down, taking a moment to unfasten your heels, letting the shoes drop to the floor before leaning back in. His lips brush against your inner thigh.
Then a bite.
“Such pretty sounds you make for me.”
And then he’s sucking harshly at the skin there, watching the shudder that rips through your sensitive body at the sensation. He doesn’t pull away until the mark is dark and flush against your skin. He continues this on the other thigh, on your ribs, your breasts and finally your neck, marking you thoroughly.
“Mine.” He growls, hot against your ear, “Mein schatz, will you let me have you?” he asks, and it’s literally all you can think about so you don’t even bother hiding the truth, the confession tumbling from your lips breathlessly.
“I’d let you do anything to me.”
He groans, capturing your lips in a deep kiss as he does so. He pulls away to grab the condom that he had put next to him on the bed and leaning back on his haunches to roll it on. You’re so impatient, nails digging into his thighs and arms, whining as you watch his hands work.
“So needy,” He comments, swallowing your moan as he finally, finally, sinks into you.
The stretch as he enters you has your head rolling back on a moan, your legs wrapping around his waist the bring him the rest of the way in. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, growling against the skin there.
“Fuck,” he groans through gritted teeth, his resolve quickly slipping at the feeling of you around his cock. And to his credit, he really tries to wait, to be good. But not seconds later he’s adjusting his grip on your hips and he’s thrusting into you with a force that makes the whole bed shake.
It’s barely been 30 seconds, but the build-up that had occurred throughout the entirety of the night had you right back on the edge, your nails clawing at his shoulders, his back, his thighs. Any purchase you could get on him, you were begging for more. You’d take anything he gave you without so much as batting an eyelash. His grip on your hips is tight and bruising, but the pain twists into a delicious pleasure that only spurs you on.
You must be speaking, babbling something back to him about how good it feels, how much you love being fucked by him because he’s laughing through a moan against your neck. He pauses for just a second, straightening up and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder before continuing to fuck you.
“That’s it Kätzchen.” He purrs, eyes moving down your body to where he enters your body, “Taking my cock so well.”
You mewl at the praise, your body arching in response to his words. Your second orgasm takes you both by surprise, having hit you like a fucking freight train when he thrusts particularly deep, hitting one of your sweet spots. You scramble for purchase on him, mouth dropped open in a near-pornographic moan that you’ll surely be embarrassed about later. But for now, all you know is pleasure.
His hips falter, stuttering as your walls tighten around him. His head falls back on a low moan, fucking you hard and slow through your release.
“Such a sweet cunt,” he gasps, “Mein Gott..”
And then he’s tangling your hands together, holding it high above your head as he pushes your thighs back, flush against your chest. He’s the one babbling now, words from God only knows what language, whispered against your skin as he chases his own release. He gives one last hard thrust and he’s done, his teeth dragging against the skin on your shoulder, moaning against you as he rides out his orgasm.
As you both come down, you stroke the back of his neck, playing with the hairs there, trying to catch your breath. After a few moments, he pulls away just enough to kiss you. There’s a lingering heat and it’s a little messy due to your shared exhaustion but it’s good.
Once you’ve both caught your breath, he removes himself from your body, taking the necessary time to deal with the condom. You watch him lazily, unable to do much other than that. You’re so tired. But there’s that ache between your legs that you love so much and you think briefly that you could go another round, if he wanted to.
He must see something in your eyes when he returns because he laughs softly, “I feel I may have my hands full with you, schatzi.” he says as he crawls back into the bed with you, covering the both of you with a blanket, the cold now biting at your skin. You know you have to get up soon enough to sort yourself out before bed, but for a moment you stay with him.
His fingers brush over your face softly, following the slope of your nose and the angle of your cheeks. There’s no real purpose to his movements, just... touching. As if convincing himself that you’re real.
“You are special, schatzi.” he says softly, “I don’t know what your plans are, but I can only hope that you choose to continue to bless me with your presence.”
This man is such an enigma to you. He carries such confidence in every aspect of his life and yet he still doubts your loyalties. There’s anxiety and pain hidden within him, you can see it in his eyes as he continues to look at you. You wonder, how much of his past weighs on his shoulders. How long before he deems himself worthy of your affection? You lean in to kiss him softly, your lips dragging slowly against him. When you pull away you keep him close, brushing your noses together.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
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I Can't Lose You Again (Part One)
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Requests are OPEN!
Pairings - Loki x Reader
Requested - Yes - Anon - Loki x reader where the reader is being held prisoner at the TVA because she knows Loki better than anyone else - the rest is up to you. Thank you!!!
Prompts - none
A/N - If you want a part two to this/want to be tagged in part two, let me know! Spoilers for the first two episodes of Loki.
“Who was she?” Loki asked as the reel came to an end.
He had just witnessed his entire life play out before him, ending long before it should have and having accomplished nothing he thought he wanted. He recognised nearly everyone shown, his mother, father, the Avengers, Thor…but there was a woman that he had no recollection of, clearly not yet meeting her but important enough to his future self for her to be included.
“She was one of the few people who saw the good in you. One of the very few people who thought you could be more than the villain, who saw the potential in you.” Mobius said, causing him to screw his eyes shut and shake his head.
“As if there could ever be such a person.” Loki scoffed. He knew what he was, the film reel only highlighted that.
“Her name is Y/N. Thor brought her to Asgard during your time spent there as prisoner. She wandered down to your cell despite being told never to go by Odin. She was there for the battle, saw all the destruction and chaos but still she asked you for your side of the story.” Mobius said, pausing as Loki interrupted him.
“Why on Earth would she ask for my side of the story?” Loki asked bitterly, his eyes still wet with tears.
“That’s exactly what you asked her.” Mobius smiled, “You dismissed her, told her to leave but she didn’t listen. She stayed and sat with you in silence and continued to do so as the days went on, sometimes she brought books and read to you. Eventually you caved and told her your side of it. Somehow she decided that you weren’t all bad.”
“Then she is a fool.” Loki snarled, finally turning to face mobius.
“A fool,” Mobius chuckled fondly, “I don’t think so, I think once upon a time she was the villain and she was given a second chance. I think that made her kinder. Besides, she’s a fool you love more than anything, she’s a fool you lived for, a fool you would’ve died for without hesitation.”
Loki stayed silent for a few moments, processing the information. It seemed utterly impossible for anybody to love him, the thought of it was ridiculous. How could someone see good in him, he was the villain…he was always destined to be the villain.
“What happened to her?” Loki asked eventually.
“After Thanos was defeated and the Avengers brought everybody back, she hoped you’d be brought back too. When you weren’t, she was lost, broken. She had lost the one person who truly believed in her and she couldn’t deal with it. She used the time machine and went back to the moment before Thanos attacked you, she tried to warn you, she tried to change the future but that future couldn’t be changed.”
“What happened to her?” Loki asked again, this time more harshly, a dangerous edge to his tone.
“The TVA stepped in; she was to be pruned but then the decision was changed. We’ve been looking into you for a very long time, needing information and trust me when I say nobody knows a Loki better than Y/F/N Y/L/N.” Mobius said with a smile that Loki didn’t understand.
“She’s here?” He asked instead.
“She’s here.” Mobius confirmed.
“You dare to hold her here, for what? Because she knows me? Let her go.” Loki ordered, stepping close to Mobius who just chuckled in response.
“If it makes you feel better, she hasn’t given up any information about you. Refuses to speak to any of us, so they put her in a time cell hoping that’ll convince her to talk but I don’t think it’ll do any good. Even when she knows you’re dead, she’s still protecting you, consequences be damned.”
Loki thought she sounded foolish, to you he was dead, why wouldn’t you bargain for your own life? Give them information and make them let you go. A small part of him was pleased though, loyalty like that was almost impossible to come by.
That small part of him wanted to know you but he knew that was impossible.
Loki sighed, too quiet for Mobius to hear, before taking a seat on the step.
“I can’t go back, can I?” He asked, knowing the answer. He was never going to get to experience the things he’d seen. “Back to my timeline.”
Mobius looked at him, he really did sympathise with the God, watching how you had held up against the interrogations for him, well he must have been worth it.
In a moment of weakness, Loki confessed everything that only he knew…well things he hadn’t told you yet at least. He admitted that he didn’t enjoy hurting people, didn’t enjoy being the villain, admitted how weak he felt so conjured fear to feel powerful, he explained everything to Mobius, he explained the illusions, how he wanted to control.
“You do know yourself.” Mobius said, pleasure in his voice.
“A villain.” Loki admitted in defeat.
“That’s not how I see it.” Mobius said, watching as Loki looked down, not giving away what he felt about that statement. “That’s not how she saw it either.”
“I can’t offer you salvation,” Mobius told him, “but maybe I can offer you something better. Like I said we’re holding Y/N here because she knows Loki’s better than anybody.”
“What do you mean ‘Loki’s?” He asked, it hadn’t occurred to him that the plural had been used earlier either.
“A fugitive Variant’s been killing our Minutemen.“ Mobius told him, causing Loki to raise his eyebrows.
"And you need the God of Mischief to help you stop him?” He asked as he stepped closer to Mobius
“That’s right.” He nodded.
“Because” Mobius began, “the Variant we’re hunting is you.” Loki’s eyebrows raised in confusion at this.
“I beg your pardon?” Loki said, they were hunting him?
Loki agreed to help and was quickly tasked with watching educational videos about the TVA, their policies and protocols but his mind kept wandering back to you. You were here somewhere, risking your life by withholding information. He admired you more than he wanted to admit and knew he had to meet you.
“Hey.” Mobius greeted as he walked up to his desk to see Loki sat with his feet up.
Before he could say anything else Loki spoke:
“I went to see her.”
It wasn’t a surprising statement to Mobius, in fact he’d been waiting for Loki to ask since he first heard about you. After the first outing with Loki to track the Variant down, he admitted he was growing fond of the God, so despite restrictions he nodded.
“I thought you might want to. Leave it to me, I’ll sort something out.”
You sat on the floor, eyes dry as you’d long ran out of tears.
It isn’t real.
You kept repeating the statement to yourself, not wanting to forget. It was so easy to forget that this wasn’t real. If you let yourself you could pretend Loki was alive, you could give in and lose yourself forever in this fake world they had conjured up for you.
Somehow you resisted, though as the days dragged on it was getting harder.
Every few minutes the scene would reset itself when you didn’t play your part.
Loki would stroll in through the door, calling out for you.
You remembered the moment they were playing for you, you were supposed to meet him at the door and he would bring you in for a soft kiss. He had had a long day at the Grandmaster’s side, playing his part so the two of you could escape.
It had been weeks since you had first arrived, breathing a sigh of relief when Loki stood in front of you. You were welcomed immediately once the Grandmaster found out you knew Loki and since then he had been working his way up in the man’s good graces.
After the two of you pulled away from each other you were supposed to go over to the sofa where Loki would wrap you up in his arms, tucking you in so your head rested under his chin. He’d place soft kisses on your forehead and let his fingers dance along your skin.
It was a moment of peace for the pair of you.
Then the scene diverged from how it should of continued, instead Loki told you how you were merely a pawn in his game, you had run your course and he no longer needed you, he told you how glad he was to be rid of you, how you were a villain just like him, he told you to stop playing the hero, reminded you of all the people you’d hurt, all the lives you ruined until you couldn’t take it anymore.
Right now, Loki was berating you, you wanted to cry, you wanted to scream and punch the walls and beg him to stop. You had done all of that in the early days and it made no difference, the scene always played on no matter how much you begged.
They said if you told them about Loki they’d let you go but you refused to talk. He might be dead but according to them there were other Loki’s out there and whilst none would ever come close to your Loki, you wouldn’t betray any of them.
You didn’t know how much time had passed, it could’ve been mere minutes or years, but the orange light appeared in the shape of a doorway and a man was stepping through.
You liked him. He was always nice to you even though you knew it frustrated him when you wouldn’t give any information up, he never hurt you like the others.
“Hello Y/N.” He said, his voice soft and smile friendly.
“Mobius.” You greeted, voice empty of emotion.
Mobius hated seeing you like this, he really did. He remembered you when they first brought in, so full of fight and spirit. Seeing you this broke didn’t sit right with him.
“C’mon.” He said, holding out a hand for you to grab, frowning when you flinched.
After an awkward pause you did take the offered hand and let Mobius take you through the doorway.
“No.” You said as you stepped out, turning to go back through the door but it was already closed.
“Y/N,” Mobius began, his voice changing to resemble that of how someone would talk to a frightened animal.
“No, not here, only in there,” you said, gesturing to the empty space where the door was only moments before. “He’s never here.”
“Y/N, this is Loki.” Mobius tried again but before he got the chance to give you an explanation, you exploded.
“My Loki is dead, Mobius!” You yelled pushing Mobius away, the fight you had thought long gone coming back stronger than ever, you felt the anger build inside of you, it felt like it was going to burn you alive. You hadn’t cried in a long time but the tears came pouring down rapidly now. “He’s dead, I watched him die! So don’t stand there and tell me he’s my Loki. Whatever kind of torture this is, it won’t work. You hear me, I hope the Loki your tracking finds you first, I hope he burns this place to the ground.” Despite the anger and the yelling, Mobius couldn’t help but smile as you echoed some of Loki’s first words to him.
“Y/N, is it?” Loki said, taking a hesitant step towards you.
You turned away from him, refusing to play whatever game Mobius had set up.
“I’m afraid I don’t quite know what to say, it feels like you know everything about me and I so little about you.” Loki confessed, he really was at a loss but seeing you so sad, so broken, so tortured…it pained him.
“You’re not my Loki.” You whispered harshly, though it sounded like you were trying to convince yourself rather than him.
“No, I’m afraid I’m not, for I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you yet. Though I do envy my future self for having got so much time with you but perhaps it was better that way, I don’t think you would have liked this version of me as much.” Loki was shocked to find he believed the words wholeheartedly.
“You’re not my Loki.” Was your only reply.
“I know.” Loki repeated. “I am from your timeline though. I’m the Loki that just lost to the Avengers in New York.” Here he watched as you looked to Mobius, who gave you a sincere smile whilst nodding.
Then you turned to look at him.
“2012 Loki?” You asked, wiping at your eyes.
“Yes. I was captured and Thor was ready to take me to Asgard when the tesseract was released and I made my escape.” He watched as you played the information over in your head, matching it up with events you remembered.
“That’s when the TVA got you?” You asked, hesitant to believe it but Mobius was the only one who hadn’t lied to you yet.
“That’s when the TVA got me.” Loki confirmed, shooting you a small smile. “I heard they got you because you tried to save me.”
“Tried being the key word,” you scoffed, “I was so close, but they whisked me away and reset the timeline. I’ve been here ever since.”
“Staying loyal to a dead man?” Loki asked, causing you to smile.
“My Loki might be dead but there are other Loki’s out there, I refuse to betray any of them, especially one causing the TVA so much trouble.” You said, missing the way Mobius grinned.
“Your Loki must have meant an awful lot to you to inspire so much loyalty.”
“My Loki meant everything to me.” Was your reply.
There was a pause in the room and Mobius was quick to gesture to the chairs around the table. You hesitated for a moment which Loki noticed and he moved to pull a chair out for you. You couldn’t help but smile at him, the gesture was something you had become so used to, God you missed him.
“So, this Variant?” Loki asked, looking away from you to Mobius.
The three of you spent the next few hours going over the information the TVA had on the Variant and if Loki moved closer to you…well who could possibly blame him?
“Oh, my goodness. Don’t tell me the Variant ambushed and killed another team of Minutemen?” Here Loki paused to let out an exaggerated gasp causing you to laugh silently into the palm of your hand. “And stole their reset charge as well.” You couldn’t help but let out a snort of laughter causing Loki to grin widely before the two of you were shushed.
You both froze as you locked eyes with Loki, you raised your eyebrow at him causing him to smirk. Slowly he turned around to see the librarian and shushed her back.
You couldn’t have wiped the smile off of your face if you tried.
“Wait, I’ve got it!” Loki exclaimed after a long silence were the two of you continued reading the files Mobius had left.
“What?” You asked, looking up at him.
You watched as Loki scooped the folders up before reaching a hand out to you, you didn’t hesitate as you took it and let him pull you along.
“Where are we going?” You laughed.
“To show Mobius.” He told you, looking back to smile at you before hurrying over to Mobius who was sitting with a lunch tray.
“I found something.” Loki said, placing the files on the table and taking a seat, dragging you into the seat next to him, so close your knees brushed together.
Mobius ignored his words as he replied, “No, I said don’t bother me until you’ve read all the files.”
“We have read them all.” You and Loki said together, pausing to look at each other with small smiles and turning back to Mobius who watched the two of you with a raised eyebrow.
It wasn’t long before you were hiding a smile as Loki demonstrated how his theory worked using Mobius’ salad as Asgard and another worker’s drink and some salt. One of the many things you loved about Loki was how expressive he was when he was explaining something, especially when it was something he was passionate about. The hand gestures, the demonstrations, even just how elegantly he spoke…you loved watching him talk like this. There was an ache in your chest at seeing this again, but you managed to push it aside.
“There’s the apocalypse.” Loki said with a proud smile.
“That’s the apocalypse?” Mobius asked looking down at his, now ruined, lunch.
“If everything around you is destined to lead up to that one moment then whatever you do won’t have an impact,” You said looking from the salad to Loki who was nodding at you with a pleased expression, “right?”
“Exactly!” He exclaimed. “So, the Variant hides out in these apocalypses,”
“And nobody would ever know because whatever that Loki is doing can’t affect anything, whatever they do doesn’t stop the apocalypse.” You finished and Loki looked so pleased as he turned to face you.
“Not bad.” Mobius said, causing you and Loki to quickly look away from each other, making Mobius chuckle.
As Loki and Mobius tested the apocalypse theory out, you were forced to stay behind. Whilst you were allowed to help out with the research work, Renslayer had denied you access to leave the TVA.
You were sort of glad for the opportunity to be alone. Seeing Loki again was hard, he was so much like your Loki which made sense because technically he was your Loki just an earlier version of him. His mannerisms were so similar that sometimes you had to pause to catch your breath as the ache in your chest grew.
Sometimes Mobius sent Loki on a task when he saw you were getting overwhelmed and in the few minutes of Loki’s absence, Mobius would sit with you and talk just above a whisper, sometimes he praised you, sometimes he told you stories, whatever he did always grounded you and you were so thankful to the man.
Some days it was almost like the time cell they had you in were you just wanted to pretend that he was the Loki you knew, pretend that he knew you too. You wanted him to wrap his arms around you and just let the world fall away. It would’ve been so easy to do it but you pushed through it and carried on with the helping find the other Loki.
“So, tell me where you’re going again.” You asked Loki as Mobius spoke with somebody.
“Earth, more precisely Haven Hills, Alabama, 2050. It’s a corporate town owned by Roxxcart until it’s wiped out by a hurricane.” Loki told you.
“And that’s where you think Loki’s hiding?” Loki looked at you watching as you nervously bit your lip. He frowned seeing how worried you were.
“Hey,” Loki said, placing his hand under your chin and guiding you to look up at him. He let his palm rest against your cheek. “What’s wrong?”
You sighed as you let your eyes fall closed. You didn’t know what was wrong, you just knew something didn’t feel right.
“What if something goes wrong?” You asked instead of answering.
“It’s going to be fine.” Loki assured you with a small smile but you just shook your head before moving away from him to pace.
“You don’t know that Loki, you don’t know it’ll be fine!” You exclaimed, causing Loki’s eyes to widen in concern.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Loki whispered as he reached for you, pulling you close so that your head rested on his chest. He felt you tense up for a moment before relaxing into him and he let his hand rub comfortingly up and down your back. “Tell me what’s wrong, darling.”
That seemed to be the final straw for you and before Loki knew it you were sobbing into his chest, gripping him tightly like he’d disappear if you let go.
“It’s ok, you’re ok.” Loki continued to whisper soothing words into your hair as he held you.
Mobius turned to call Loki over, the task force ready to leave but when he saw the two of you huddled together he gestured for everyone to move away to give the two of you some privacy.
“Tell me what’s wrong, love, so I can fix it.” Loki said after you began to calm down. He pulled you away from him, frowning as you whimpered but relaxed as he just wiped your tears away, keeping you close the entire time.
“The last time I…” You trailed off, taking a shaky breath, “The last time I lost you, you told me everything would be fine. You were lying of course; you knew you were lying but I didn’t. I didn’t know just how bad it would be and now you’re going to face another Loki, one who has been avoiding and killing minutemen for longer than I’ve been alive. I can’t lose you again, I can’t lose you.” You rushed out, your voice breaking at the end as another round of tears fell from your eyes.
Loki paused for a moment and just watched you, feeling his heart clench in sympathy. He hated his future self for dying, for leaving you alone but he also knew how much he loved Thor, he’d rather the both of you live without him than him having to live without either of you. Maybe that made him selfish but he could see why his future self had made the sacrifice.
“I’m sorry, darling,” He said as he pulled you back into his arms, “I’m so sorry that you were left alone, believe me if I could change it I would no matter what I had to do but if it comes down to you or me, I’m always going to choose you. I know that after only knowing you for a short amount of time so the Loki you spent years with….well I can see why he wouldn’t hesitate. You can come with us, I’ll convince Mobius, if it’ll make you feel better, but everything really is going to be ok.” Loki promised as he placed a kiss on the top of your head.
As he turned his head, he saw Mobius who gestured that they needed to go. Silently, he pointed to you and then to Mobius, pleading with the man to let you go. He watched as Mobius frowned before looking down the hallway and back to the two of you before reluctantly nodding and mouthing “quickly.”
“Let’s go.” Loki said as he linked your hands together and led you to the task force.
Mobius smiled at you softly and you mouthed a thank you towards him before you were all being ushered through the doorway.
The rain was…well it was apocalyptic. You watched as Loki looked up at the sky as it thundered dangerously with a small smile, your Loki did that too, just looked up at the sky and thought of Thor when the weather was stormy.
Once the task force was inside Loki used his magic to dry the two of you off causing you to jump slightly, it had been so long since you’d been around magic.
“Thank you.” You said and Loki just smiled down at you.
“The hell was that?” One of the agents asked, causing Loki to grin cheekily.
“That was me using magic to dry our clothes so we don’t announce ourselves with every squeaky footstep like the rest of you.” You couldn’t help but snort, causing Hunter B-15 to glare at you.
“Take both teams and sweep the storm shelter.” She said to the rest of the task force and everyone was quick to move.
“Loki and I are gonna check out the Green House. We’ll meet…” Mobius began but was quickly cut off by Hunter B-15.
“No?” He asked in confusion
“You go with D-90 and take Y/L/N with you. He stays with me.” She said, causing Loki to glance first at Mobius then you, you watched him with a concerned look but eventually nodded.
Mobius and Hunter B-15 bickered back and forth before Loki cut in.
“Mobius, it’s fine. It’s fine. You can trust me. I understand I have to earn that, so, I will.” He said, again looking from Mobius to you. You smiled at him, causing him to smile back.
“Why is it the people you can’t trust are always saying, “Trust me”?” Mobius muttered to you before turning to Hunter B-15, “Okay, try to hang on to your Time Collar this time. We’ll see you in the showroom.”
And with that everyone went their separate ways.
“You can trust him, you know.” You told Mobius once you were far away enough from the others.
“No, you can trust him.” Mobius said with a fond smile. “Me however, well we’ll see.”
The two of you walked behind the group following as they led you into a room full of people seeking refuge.
“Check the bag for reset chargers.” One of the hunters said and everyone was quick to set to work as the people around you panicked.
“Hey! These people are scared.” Mobius snapped at one of the hunters who was being particularly vicious towards the people, looking at him now you recognised him as one of your harsher interrogators.
“They’re about to die. They should be scared.” He snapped back causing your eyes to widen in horror at the harshness.
“Not of us.” Mobius said calmly.
“Please we’ve got women and children.” A man said as he gently grabbed your arm and pleaded with you. You looked at him with tears in your eyes.
“I’m so sorry.” You whispered before Mobius led you away. “You’re really going to let these people die?”
“Our job isn’t to save them.” Mobius said sadly, sympathising with you. The first few missions are always the hardest.
“No,” You scoffed as you moved away from him, “your job is to make sure they die.” You hissed before stalking out of the room.
Tears made their way down your face as you left the room but you angrily brushed them away as you tried to find Loki. You had always thought something seemed off with the TVA but seeing their work up close made you nauseous.
A thud snapped you out of your thoughts and you peeked around a corner just in time to see Hunter B-15 hit the floor. You spared her little thought; Mobius would find her and instead you followed Loki.
You saw Loki standing alone but talking to somebody.
“I see, that’s your plan, lure us all here so you can blow the place up.”
You watched as a giant of a man came from nowhere and kicked Loki in the chest sending him flying backwards. The man, a Loki perhaps?, just thanked him for helping stall for time before hitting him again sending him further back. Loki used his magic but still the man showed no signs of slowing down.
“Stop hiding.” Loki commanded, causing you to raise an eyebrow. More than likely the Loki variant then, hiding in the bodies of refugees.
A sick feeling suddenly came over you as you watched the Loki variant choke Loki, images of Thanos and Loki invaded your mind and it took everything for you to stay quiet.
You breathed a sigh of relief as he let Loki go though it was short lived as Loki went flying again, smashing into one of the stands.
The Loki variant’s eyes turned green before the man hit the floor with a laugh, suddenly there was a hooded figure with glowing green hands standing behind him. As Loki’s voice bounced around the room, the Loki variant pulled his hood down.
There stood a woman. Loki in her true form.
“This isn’t about you.” She snarled.
“Right.” Loki said, sounding dubious before the power shut down. The last thing you saw was a smirk on the Loki variant’s face.
The lighting turned red as the Loki variant picked up a tempad, you watched as the familiar orange doorway appeared and that bad feeling you had about Loki coming here grew painfully.
This wasn’t going to end well for anybody.
She waved at Loki before stepping through the doorway and moments later Mobius, Hunter B-15 and another Hunter where running down the hallway shouting for Loki to stop.
“Loki, wait!” Mobius pleaded and Loki actually looked torn before shaking his head and walking towards the door.
“Loki!” You yelled, finally stepping out from behind one of the isles.
Here Loki paused before turning to you, his eyes were wide as he looked at you and, in that moment, you knew what would happen.
“Please.” You whispered and he looked crushed.
Mobius was near him now, nearly within distance to grab him, to push him away from that damned doorway but he was too late.
‘I’m sorry darling.’ Loki mouthed before he ran through the doorway.
The orange faded to nothing just as Mobius reached it and you could do nothing but stare at the doorway with an aching heart.
Read part two here!
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Imagine your out drinking with your girls when somehow you end up getting drinks/ getting shots with a group of soldiers. Someone comes up with the idea that considering there are as many guys as girls, you girls should draw lots which one of the guys you'll be doing the upcoming drinking game with. In abundance of anything else, you end up drawing dog tags, yours belonging to a certain syverson... how does the night evolve? Are you going to wake up alone?
Summary: You get paired with Sy in a drinking game, your mutual attraction is immediate, so what happens by the end of the night?
Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader
Word Count: approx. 7.2k
Warnings: fluff, smut, Sy being a flirt, hand job, fingering, p in v sex, spitting, spanking, slight praise kink, dirty talk, mild name calling, recreational drinking (I think that’s it.)
Authors note: Thank you @omgkatinka for the prompt. I’m sorry it’s taken so long!!! I really hope you enjoy it and I hope you’re doing well. Thank you to @amberangel112 for beta reading. Edited by me, there will be errors.
Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more
Five of them, five of you.
Five young, single men, soldiers, stationed at the nearby military base, and five young, single women, friends since college. It didn’t take long for your groups to join.
It had made sense at the time. You were all drinking together at the bar and already spent an hour doing shots together before someone came up with the idea of playing a drinking game. Various games were mentioned, “Never Have I Ever”, “2 Lies and a Truth”, but then someone, you don’t remember who came up with the idea of, “Attached at the hip.”
The rules were simple. Each team would consist of a boy and a girl. The boys put their dog tags in one hat and a body part written on a piece of napkin in another. Each girl would pick a set of tags and then each person picks a body part. For the rest of the night, or for however long the game went on, you had to stay joined at those parts of the body. The last team left standing would win bragging rights.
The soldier who introduced himself as Sy, no first name, holds the baseball cap above your head. You can barely reach and have to stand on your toes. He smirks at you, amused as you struggle and your shirt lifts, revealing your tummy. You chew on your lip as you drop your arm, a little frustrated that he was teasing you.
“You could lower it just a bit,” you say.
“Now where’s the fun in that?” he drawls. You try again, reaching as high as possible, when you feel a soft jab in the belly. Did he? Did he poke you? You drop your gaze quick enough to see Sy pull his hand away.
Your jaw drops in shock, and you gasp, quickly pulling your shirt down. “Sorry,” he smirks in a tone that says he’s anything but. “My hand must have slipped.”
For a few seconds you don’t know what to say. Is he actually flirting with you? You found him attractive. Out of all the soldiers, he was the one who you find most appealing. Appearing a little intimidating at first with his height, burly body, close-cropped hair, and a rough stubble that looks like he hasn’t shaved in a week; but not long after your groups joined, he had caught your eye and smiled. You saw a warmth in him, the potential for a fun-loving side. Perhaps if you hadn’t been drinking so much you would have noticed sooner that he had purposefully swapped places with one of his friends so he could talk to you and he had barely said a word to your friends. Maybe the attraction isn’t one sided. Maybe he finds you attractive too.
With the bravery only three shots of Bailey’s and Butterscotch Schnapps can provide, you decide there is only one way to test the theory. You have to flirt back.
You take a half step closer, your bodies don’t quite touch but you’re very close. You raise your eyes to his, the brilliant blue nearly makes you pause, and you notice that on one side, just beneath his lid, part of his eye is deep emotive brown. Without looking away, you place a hand on his shoulder, rise onto your toes and reach for the hat again. You make a small noise in the back of your throat, a soft moan of effort, and breathlessly you say, “I can’t… You’re just so… big.”
Sy’s so close you can smell his aftershave, fresh, green, slighty smokey, mixed with a whiff of leather and a sweet hint of whisky on his breath. You see his nostrils flare, and you wonder if he can smell you too. The thought makes you widen your eyes as his seem to narrow and you hear a faint rumbling hum from him, an approving sound, as if he likes being so close to you. The scene is far more intense than you had meant it to be and for a few seconds, it’s just you and him, the world quiet and forgotten. Then someone drops a glass, the loud shatter pierces through your senses and the moment passes.
Dropping your hands and stepping back feeling a little smug, you raise your eyebrow, as if to say, ‘ok, your move, buddy’. Sy sucks his lip into his mouth, and you see a trace of dimples on his cheeks, like he’s trying not to smile. You hide your smile too but allow enough to show through for him to know that you were enjoying the game. Without a word, he lowers the hat to a position you can reach comfortably. You tilt your head, a nod of thanks, which he acknowledges by returning the gesture.
Dipping into the hat, your fingers wrap around the small, stamped metal plates and when you pull them out, they are trimmed with a green rubber ring. Before you can read them, the tags are snatched out of your hands.
“Hey!” you cry turning to Sy and pouting. “I didn’t see who I’m with.” He grins at you, shoving the tags into his pocket.
“They’re mine,” Sy says. “I can tell by the ring on ‘em.”
“But…” you protest.
“Hang on.” Sy walks around you and gives the hat to the next guy. They have a quick, whispered conversation and as Sy comes back, he puts the tags round his neck, swiftly tucking them into his shirt.
“Why can’t I see the tag?”
“You ain’t findin’ out my name that easy.”
“You’re no fun,” you say petulantly, folding your arms across your chest and pretending to be upset. The image is ruined by the huge smile you just can’t hide.
“I’m a lotta fun, Darlin’,” Sy says. He winks at you, and you giggle. It was more of an uncoordinated blink than a wink, and somehow his clumsy attempt was even sexier. “Play your cards right and I reckon you just might find out how fun I can be.”
The way Sy says it, the way he stands that little bit too close, the way he looks at you, makes his comment feel like more than simple flirtation. It is more like an invitation and your stomach flips. You feel shy and turn away, relieved to see the others are choosing their partners, giving you an excuse not to look at him. You hear him chuckle and you suppose you deserve it, you played with fire, upped the ante quickly and when he called you on it, you folded.
Once everyone had paired up, you dip into the hat again to find out which body parts you would be attached by. You and Sy go at the same time, each pulling out one of the flimsy pieces of napkin. Heat rises through your body, far beyond the alcohol induced warmth you expect to feel, as you look at the scribbled three letters that spell your death by humiliation.
“I got thigh,” Sy announces to the group.
“She got ASS!” One of your friends reads over your shoulder. The group erupts into hysterics, laughing, clapping, and teasing. You picked one of the worst ones. As a group you had decided that genitals were off limits, but ass and chest were ok. You can’t look at Sy, the whole game is suddenly too real, and you pray for the ground to rip open and swallow you whole.
Sy’s hand rests against yours and he leans close to you, making a show of checking the napkin for himself. But you feel his thumb caress your palm, a soothing, comforting touch. You look at him, his face peering over your shoulder and when he feels your eyes on him, he gives you a smirk. “It could be worse, Darlin’,” he says. “I coulda picked head.”
The image that comes to your mind makes your cheeks burn, but you do laugh and Sy joins in. “Yeah, that would be a little uncomfortable,” you agree. The others start to pick theirs, so Sy rights himself, but doesn’t release your hand. Instead, he covers it with both of his and doesn’t let go until it is time to start the game.
It turns out, your position easy to get into, all you have to do is stand in front of Sy and he positions his thigh against your ass. In that respect you were lucky, one duo got foot and elbow, they end up having to sit in chair to make the position work.
However, the position you are in is an intimate one. To keep your bodies connected easily, Sy puts his arm around your waist, flattens his hand against your belly and holds you to him. The heat of his body radiates into yours, and you sense the strength of his build as he presses against you. You feel his warm breath caressing your neck and when he talks to you, he murmurs into your ear, tucking your hair out of his way, his voice low, smooth, and seductive.
“This ain’t so bad, is it?” Sy asks, tightening his hold a moment to get your attention, as if he were tapping your shoulder.
You swallow hard, it isn’t bad at all. It feels good, feels comforting, feels as if you had known each other for years. You turn your head to face him, a timid smile on your face. “It’s not bad.”
Sy’s look is intense as he studies your face. You try to look away, distract yourself, stop yourself focusing on how soft his lips look, or how rugged his body is, or how snug you seem to fit into his arms. Before you can, his hand is at your neck, and his finger traces your jaw. “You’ve gone all shy on me,” he says. He narrows his eyes and asks, “Do I have to poke you again?”
Despite your nervousness or perhaps because of it, you laugh and shake your head. “Maybe I just need another drink.”
“Then let’s getcha one.” Sy’s finger lifts your chin higher, like he wants to kiss you. His tongue darts out licking his bottom lip quickly before pulling it into his mouth. It feels like he looks at you for ages, but it couldn’t have been long. You see the moment a new thought comes into his mind; his eyes seem to brighten and he smirks. “You sure you don’t want a poke?”
“Alright then, you lead the way and I’ll follow from behind.”
You start walking and it’s a little weird. With every step Sy takes he presses his thigh between your legs making the rhythm of your walk unnatural, choppy, and unsteady. You feel ridiculous and are sure you look it too.
“You keep bashing your leg into me,” you complain, cackling as you almost fall over, saved only because Sy was already holding onto you.
“Sorry. I’m tryin’ not to ride your ass, but it’s just so hard,” Sy rumbles in your ear and squeezing you around the waist, he lifts your feet off the ground for an instant and he carries you the remaining distance to the bar.
You squeal and giggle, surprised by his display and more than a little turned on. Your laughter must be making you feel more relaxed because you say, “Is that the only hard thing you’re dealing with back there?”
“God damn woman, you’re givin’ me whiplash,” Sy growls, his voice rough but his tone playful and he’s grinning as he pulls you closer. “Don’t stop though. I like it.”
Obviously, the foot and elbow team bow out first. They decide to spend the rest of the game making sure the groups don’t cheat. Over the couple of hours or so, another two teams fail, leaving only you and Sy, and another duo, the guy having to keep his hand on your friend’s head.
You and Sy start to become competitive and emboldened by alcohol, you start trying to make plans to beat them. You move to the edge of the dance floor, away from the rest of the group, to keep your conspiring secret.
“Is he ticklish?” you ask Sy.
He screws up his face in confusion. “How the hell should I know?”
“I have no idea what you guys get up to in those barracks.” You shrug and try not to laugh at the look on his face.
“Is that what you girls got up to in college?”
Shaking your head, you say with as much seriousness as you can muster, “No. I mean, sometimes we had pillow fights in our underwear…”
Sy laughs. “Sure, you did. Anyway, I don’t live on base. Haven’t for years.”
“Do you live by yourself?” you ask. You don’t mean anything by it, you just flowed with the conversation, but Sy attaches a deeper meaning to it.
“As a matter of fact, I do.” Although Sy had been hugging you since the game began, he had kept his hands mostly on your stomach or arm, but now you feel them move. He grips your hip firmly in his hand and exerting slight pressure, he slides it up your waist, wrapping his fingers around you, his thumb digging into your back. His touch is firm, not quite rough, and the pressure on your muscles feels so good, you can’t supress a small moan of pleasure as your eyes close. “All alone.”
“Must be lonely,” you say, resting your head on Sy’s shoulder. Sy brings his hand down your side again, this time you wriggle and suck in a breath through your teeth as his thumb hits a sore spot on your lower back. Sy goes back to the area, and you hiss again. He slips his hand under your shirt and starts working your muscles with his knuckles.
“Does that hurt?” Sy rasps.
“Yeah, but it feels good,” you hum, and squirm against him.
“Fuck it,” Sy groans and it’s like a switch is flipped and his whole demeanour changes. The hand on your belly tightens, and ruts against you, as if he craves the friction. He seems so strong, so big and his body seems so hard. He nestles his face into your neck, his bristly stubbles scratches at your skin, and his breaths are heavy grunts into your ear. His movements are slow, subtle, unlikely to receive attention. You sway your hips, imitating his movements, easy, long, but firm, and you hear him growl as your ass brushes past his cock. It’s as if you’re dancing, a sleepy, sensuous waltz. Your body responds, heat blooms from the apex of your thighs and you feel your arousal begin to well.
“Sy,” you mumble.
“Yeah baby?” His voice is steady, and you would think he was unaffected except for the husky tone.
“How bad do you want to win the game?”
With a noise you can only describe as a snarl, and forgoing his previous subtlety, Sy spins you around. Holding you by the nape in one hand, your ass in the other he brings you close with a rough tug. “Not as bad as I wanna do this.”
Sy kisses you, and his mouth overwhelms you as his lips moving firmly against yours. You begin to feel with your hands the body that held you all night. Clutching his thick ropy arms, thick with hardened muscles, you caress him up to his neck and take hold of his shirt. Grasping it in your fists, you keep him close, you don’t want him to stop. You know you aren’t sober, but his kiss makes you feel high, like all your senses are heightened, and you’re floating away.
Your hands slide over Sy’s neck, feeling his sun toughened skin, and slipping under his shirt, you stroke his back, your nails dragging over his flesh. He must like that, you think because you feel his chest rumble and his tongue invades your mouth, dominating the kiss, exploring your mouth as if it were his. Your fingers feel a small chain, and you remember his dog tags, a hazy part of your brain says you should look at them.
Opening your mouth wider, you meet Sy’s tongue with yours and tease it with a gentle suck. Thoroughly distracting him, you slip the chain from beneath his shirt. You break the kiss, claiming breathlessness, which wasn’t exactly a lie. You are both panting, and you lay your head against his chest, his puffing lungs lull you as you look at his tags.
The first thing you notice is the black rubber ring around the tag. You try and think back, and you could have sworn the tags you drew from the hat had a green one. You are drunk, maybe you are confused, or maybe it was a trick of the light. Feeling Sy’s mouth on your neck, you know you don’t have much time, so blinking hard and squinting, you read his full name and rank.
Sy’s lips are fervent on your neck, he doesn’t hold back, he bites and sucks as well as soothes. You find him hard to resist, he knows what he’s doing, knows how to kiss, and you don’t doubt he knows how to fuck. His voice is no longer steady as he takes your earlobe between his teeth and rasps, “You smell so fucking good,” punctuating the curse with a hard thrust and a snarl. You almost forget the tags in your hand, maybe you’ll confront him later, but you are curious to see his reaction.
You give the tags a gentle jerk, and you feel him stiffen, “Well, hello Captain Syverson…” You look up at him grinning, “Captain Noah H. Syverson.”
He recovers quickly, grinning back at you. “Well played, Darlin’,” he says, nodding in acknowledgement of your cunning. “Can I have those back now?”
“It’s funny,” you say ignoring his request. “I could have sworn I drew a set with green around them.” You look him in the eyes, feeling pleased with yourself as you notice he looks a little sheepish. “I wasn’t supposed to be paired with you, was I?”
Sy shrugs. He takes back the tags, and he tucks them back into his shirt. “There was no way I was lettin’ any of the other guys put their hands on you.” He cups your neck and rubs his thumb over your stretched throat. “You were mine the moment you walked in the bar.”
You raise your eyebrows. “What were you going to do if I wasn’t interested? Throw me over your shoulder and run off with me like a caveman?”
“If I had to,” Sy smirks. You lower your eyes, you know he’s joking, but still, his cockiness boarders on arrogance and his possessiveness makes you hotter than it should have. He uses his thumb to lift your chin, wanting you to look at him again. He stares at you, and it’s like he can read every thought that runs through your head. Then, as if to confirm how easy he sees you, he says, “I still might. I get the feelin’ you’d like it.”
You swallow hard, your mouth feels dry. That moment of the night has come, it’s getting late, people will start going home soon. It was time to decide where this was going. Was this just a fun night at the bar, exchange numbers, maybe meet again, maybe not? Or were you going to go home with him? You were under no illusions, going home with Sy would mean sex, not because he’d force you, but because you wouldn’t be able to resist him.
Looking past Sy, you glance at your friends. They’re all watching you, it appears they had abandoned the game too, and their attention is focussed on you and Sy. They are giving you sly thumbs ups, hiding their gestures from the guys. You feel Sy turn, and he sees where you’re looking. Your friends immediately pretend to be talking to each other, but they’re too late, he saw, and you hear him chuckle.
“Do you wanna go back with your friends?” Sy asks. There’s a seriousness to his tone and you can tell by the way he asks and the look in his eyes that he’s giving you an out here, a way to stop what’s happening between you two while still preserving his pride.
“No,” you say, shaking your head.
Sy gives you a wolfish grin and licks his lips. You feel your face getting hot, there is something obscene about the look he gives you and you feel it deep within your core as you involuntarily clench in anticipation. He cradles the back of your head, his fingers slipping into your hair. “Do you wanna come home with me?”
This time you can’t say the words, they stick in your throat, so you nod and hum your agreement. Sy’s grin gets bigger, and he makes a noise in the back of his throat, a deep wordless groan. He breaths in deeply and for the first time since the game began, he lets you go. You instantly feel the loss, it had felt so incredible in his arms. “Go getcha bag and say good night to your friends. Then we’ll catch a cab.”
Words come easier now, so you say cheekily, “What? You’re not going to throw me over your shoulder and run away with me?”
With a speed you did not expect, Sy grabs you around the waist and lifts you, just enough to get you off the ground. You let out a little yip, then giggle stupidly as you slide down his body until your feet touch the ground. “Don’t tempt me, Darlin’.” He gives your ass a little tap and tilts his head towards your friends. “You’ve got thirty seconds, or I do it for real.” For a moment you don’t move then he says, “Twenty-eight… Twenty-seven…”
You expect a tiny bachelor apartment, so you are surprised when the cab pulls up to a house. It is small, it can’t be more than three bedrooms, but it appears well looked after and tidy.
Feeling your heartbeat in your throat you follow Sy up the path. He stops and looks at you with a puzzled expression, crossing his arms across his chest. “Somethin’ ain’t right.”
“What?” you ask. Already nervous, his change in attitude makes you worry you had judged him all wrong. Suddenly, being on the wrong side of tipsy and alone with a man you just met, feels like a piss poor decision. Once again, he’s faster than you can track and you find your back pressed against his chest, his arm around your waist in a perfect recreation of the way he held you most of the evening.
Sy hums and nuzzles into your neck, his rough whiskers tickling, and you giggle. “Much better,” he croons into your ear. He lifts your feet off the ground and climbs the three small stairs to his porch and though he puts you down, he holds you while he opens the door and takes you inside.
The inside reflects the outside, neat, but simple with basic contemporary furnishings that aren’t old, but aren’t brand new either. You focus on his coffee table, trying to get hold of your nerves as Sy lays gentle kisses your neck.
“Did I tell you how good you smell?” Sy’s hand goes to your throat, tilting your head as his kisses get firmer, teeth gently scraping your skin as he goes. You make a non-committal noise. Although it feels good, your nerves have gotten the best of you. Sy stops, turns your head to his, and like before, he runs his finger along your jaw.
“You’ve gone all shy on me again,” he says. Sy smiles, you can see he is trying to appear patient, trying to hide his desire, but he focuses on your lips. He moves his fingers over them, tracing their outline and you part them.
There is something erotic about it, provocative and it seems to be the aphrodisiac you need because your starts to blood surge through you veins. As his finger brushes your lip, your tongue flicks out. Sy chuffs, and his mouth quivers as if he is going to smile, but then he grows serious.
“Open your mouth,” he urges, his voice was throaty and low. You comply, you don’t even consider saying no, your arousal was palpable, you want him. Sy’s finger passes your lips, and you close them as you wrap your tongue around him. The effect on him is immediate, his arm squeezes you close as he grinds against you and buries his head into your neck. “Fuck, that’s good, baby,” he growls.
Sy raises your shirt above your breasts, pausing only a moment before he slips his hand into your bra. He becomes rough, forceful, and removing his finger from your mouth his hands roam your body. You hold onto his arm as he palms you, feeling the dense muscle beneath his sparsely haired skin. You try and turn around, but he holds you in position and stops moving.
“Do you want me to stop?” Sy asks hoarsely.
“I want to touch you.”
Sy turns you around and you meet his eyes. They’re dark with hunger, and you are sure yours would reflect the same. “Do you wanna go to my room?”
“Yeah,” you say. Your voice sounds surprisingly strong considering how feverish you feel.
“Fuck, I want you so bad.” Sy says, before kissing you again. Fuck, he is intense, his kiss is impatient and intoxicating. You are so consumed by it, you barely notice his hands cupping your ass, lifting your feet off the ground and taking you to his room.
Sy takes his boots off, and you give yourself a chance to look around. The space is surprisingly bright, mostly whites and greys with black furniture. It’s neat, the only things out of place are a few stacked books on his bedside and an open beer can next to them.
You feel his hands on your hips and he turns you before lowering his mouth to yours again. You slide your hands under his shirt, and he breaks the kiss, tugging at your shirt, trying to take it off.
“You first,” you say, shaking your head.
“Getting a little bossy ain’tcha, Darlin’?” Sy smirks. You grin back at him as he reaches behind his head, removes his shirt, and drops it to the floor. When he grabs at your top, you let him take it off. His lips crash into yours again, his hands roam your back and a shiver ripples up your spine, sending your skin tightening into goosebumps. “You cold baby?” he asks, while his fingers deftly unclasp your bra and slip it off your shoulders. His eyes are on your breasts as he holds them, teasing a little at your tightening nipples.
“A little,” you murmur. And you are, but inside you burn, his hands feel so good, his palms work-hardened and calloused excite you. They feel so male, so brutish, you want to feel the rough textures of his body and be at the mercy of his harsh dominating touch.
“Don’t worry, I’ll warm ya up in a minute,” he says as he kisses you again, and starts to undo your pants.
You pull at his belt, releasing the buckle and you hear him groan. His kiss becomes demanding, his tongue filling your mouth while his hands are frenzied, tearing at your jeans. He pulls them down your thighs, and his hands go straight to your ass, squeezing at your flesh.
“Your skin is so soft,” Sy growls as he burrows into your neck. His unshaven chin scrapes your skin, his mouth is heated, his tongue massaging while he sucks hard, as if he’s determined to bruise you, to leave you with a lingering ache so you remember him.
You struggle with his jeans, unable to get a purchase on the buttons as he holds your bodies so close. While he mauls at your neck, you lay your hands on his chest, fingers curling briefly over his dog tags before sinking them into the soft hair that covers his pecs. You notice his chest puffing as you trace the lines of his muscles, vaguely defined on his abdomen. He is obviously brawny, very little fat, just enough for you to feel a soft layer of flesh above the solid mass below. As your hands move lower, he lifts his head, and you see him clench his jaw. You take the opportunity to undo his pants, and he gives you room to work, watching as you lower his jeans and underwear. You make a squeak in your throat as you see his cock. He’s as big as a freaking porn star, thick, diamond hard, and pulsing with need.
You reach out to touch him, but Sy grabs your hand, and you think he is going to stop you. Instead, he brings your hand up to his mouth, grins a filthy grin, and spits on your hand. You gasp in shock, then let out a small moan as you feel your body start to throb. No one had ever done that to you before, it was lewd, indecent, but fuck you liked it. He must have read every thought as it flashed across your face because Sy chuckles as he steps out of his pants and kicks them away. He guides your hand to his cock, spreading the makeshift lubricant all over as he shudders with pleasure. He doesn’t let go of your hand as he wraps your fingers around his shaft. He directs your movements, dictates the pace, even squeezing your hand to increase the pressure.
Sy lifts your chin, eyes blazing as he looks into yours. “Fuck, baby, just like that. Keep goin’,” he orders. He lets go of your hand and slips his between your legs, brushing over your slick and swollen flesh. “You like touchin’ my cock, huh?” he growls.
“Yes,” you whimper.
“Yeah, you do. You’re so fucking wet, baby.” Sy’s fingers press between your folds and glide along your slit. You bite back a moan, trying not to lose focus. His hand moves from under your chin and wraps around your throat. His lip raises into a snarl, and through gritted teeth he says, “So wet, so soft and so fucking warm. Such a good little cunt.”
“Fuck. Sy,” you cry. His words hit you hard, you roll your hips and lose the rhythm you were building as you jerked him off.
“Want my finger in you, baby?” No one has ever spoken to you like that before. You would have sworn that you wouldn’t like it, but you do, and you want more. He knows it too, smirking as he teases.
“Yes, please,” you beg.
“Look at you, usin’ your manners like a good girl,” Sy mocks, playfully. He kisses you again, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth as he delves his long finger into your core. “Shit, you’re grippin’ me hard.” His hand around your neck tightens, he presses his forehead into yours and starts to thrust into your hand. “God damn, you’re gonna feel good on my cock.” For a moment his whole-body contracts, and he pushes another finger into you.
You start to feel weak at the knees, your thighs tremble and you feel your core tense. You can’t think straight, your mind is overcome with sensations, completely flooded and wrecked. The feeling of his hard cock in your hand, his fingers sliding in and out of your core, your throat held with just the right amount of pressure, his grunting, ragged breathing, and the earthy masculine smell of him… It’s all too much as you approach your peak; you feel like you’re going to implode. You lean into him, your free hand grabbing at his shoulder, nails digging into his solid flesh.
“Sy,” you whine. “I… I can’t…”
“Yeah, you can,” Sy encourages. He lets go of your throat and puts both your arms around his neck. “Hold onto me tight, baby. I’ve got you.”
You do as he says and wrapping his arm around you, he brings you closer. Sy kisses you, his lips, are still firm and controlling but also tender. There’s an intimacy in the moment you don’t expect. His eyes, while blazing and ardent, are somehow warm and reassuring. Keeping his face close to you, he presses his thumb against your clit, and you mumble his name.
“I know,” Sy says, his voice softer now barely above a whisper. “You’re so close. I can feel you shakin’ like a leaf. C’mon, baby, come for me. I wanna see your pretty face when ya let go.”
Curling his fingers inside you, they dance, pressing into your spot as he rolls your clit under his thumb. You feel yourself approach your release. It’s slow, steady, building deep within you, coiling tighter and tighter. Your breaths are little pants, and you start to let out short sharp cries. With an incoherent yell, you squeeze your eyes shut as you fall off the edge and your orgasm rolls over you, warming you everywhere, rippling through your whole being.
Your bones feel like jelly as your climax fades and your mind begins to clear. Sy’s voice brings you back, his cooing whispers are unexpected, as are the undemanding kisses he presses on your cheeks and forehead. You feel yourself being lifted and you have enough strength to tighten your grip around his neck.
Sy takes you to his bed, he leans his back against his pillows and bedhead. You lay over him, legs straddling him, pressing against the outside of his thighs, and your head rests on his chest, his hair itches your nose.
“You still with me, Darlin’?” Sy asks. You lift your head and lean on your chin. He smiles, he looks a little smug. “Hi,” he says.
You laugh, you can’t help it, you feel so relaxed and surprisingly comfortable considering you hardly knew the man you were just so intimate with. “Hi, yourself.”
Sy hums and drags you up higher, so your face is above his. “You havin’ fun, Baby?” he asks. His question leaves you stunned a moment.
“I don’t think anyone’s ever asked me that during sex before.”
Sy raises an eyebrow, then shrugs. “Maybe you’ve been fuckin’ the wrong guys.” You smile at his cockiness; he somehow manages to make his arrogance seem charming. He smiles back and as if he can’t stop himself, he raises his hand to your cheek and guides you to his lips. He hums again and says, “So, are you havin’ fun?”
“Yeah, I am.”
“You wanna have some more fun?”
Biting your lip, you nod. You aren’t ready for the night to be over. The thought made gave you a sinking feeling in your gut. What would happen after tonight? Would you ever see him again? You keep the smile plastered to your face and try to push aside the rising fear. Sy is right this should be fun.
“Atta girl,” Sy rumbles. He brings you to his mouth for another kiss, harder this time as his hands wander, grabbing and squeezing. Abruptly he stops and lifts you, putting you down so you’re sitting on his thighs.
“What’s wrong?” You begin to climb off him, but he quickly reaches for you.
“Stay there,” he says, and you feel the command in his voice. He reaches into his bedside draw and pulls out a condom and holds it up for you. You look down and see him, still hard and pressing against his belly. You hear Sy open the packet and watch as he holds himself and rolls the latex down his length.
When Sy’s finished you look up at him. He’s looking at you, his lip in his mouth, eyes lusty and blistering as they take you in. He slides his hand over his cock, pulling languidly, thumb gliding over the head. You’re becoming aroused again, a low throb beats in your centre and you feel achingly empty.
“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous,” Sy says. Grabbing your hips, he moves you until your slit covers his cock and he begins guiding your movements, sliding your wet cunt over him. You see him watching as the head of his cock briefly appears before disappearing between your swollen lips and his breath starts to grow shallow. You move your hips slightly, correcting the angle and you moan as your clit slides over him. “I wanna see you ride me, baby.”
“Say please,” you smirk.
Sy’s thumbs dig into your hips, and he growls at you, but he’s smiling too. “Cheeky bitch,” he grumbles. Giggling you lean forward, your weight supported by your knees while Sy holds his cock in position. “Go slow, baby.”
Nodding, you lower yourself gradually onto him. He’s so thick you can’t take him all at once and have to rise up several times, before lowering again. You moan as you feel yourself stretch, the slight pain nothing compared to the incredible feeling of being so full.
Sy groans each time you take more of him and when you finally take all of him, his hands hold your hips down as he lifts his. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. You want to move but he keeps you still. “Just stay there for me, Baby. You feel so fuckin’ good.”
You mewl, wanting more. “Sy…” you beg. You move your hips slightly, desperate for friction and you feel his hands soften.
“Ok. Go slow Darlin’, we don't gotta rush.”
You move, easy, languidly, rolling your hips, he feels so good inside you, it’s not long until you begin to feel that familiar tightening in your core. Sy sits up and holding you by the nape, he kisses you. His mouth is hot, controlling, and forceful and he licks, sucks, and bites at your lips and tongue. His aggression makes you want to go faster, but as soon as you do, he holds your hips again, slowing your pace down. “Not yet, Baby. I wanna feel ya some more.”
You tried to keep steady, but you can’t. Your core flutters, crying out for more, but his mouth is doing you in. When he kisses you, you can’t think, your instincts take over and the primitive part of your brain spurs you on.
You hear a loud crack and your ass stings. Shocked you stop and your hands fly to your ass, covering it. You glare at Sy whose arms are open and raised, with a comedically wide-eyed look of innocence on his face. “Did you just...” you lower your voice, “spank me?”
Sy presses his lips together, trying to smother his mirth. He shakes his head and as he goes to speak, he starts to laugh. Trying to hide your own grin you grab his wrists and push them against the headboard.
“Stay there,” you say, trying to use your best authoritative voice, but you can still hear the amusement in your tone. You begin to rock, slipping into a rhythm that has you panting, and you can feel yourself start to get close to the edge again.
Sy’s eyes sparkle with mischief. “You think that's going to stop me spankin’ your ass? Aww Baby, that's cute.” He reverses your hold, suddenly he’s holding your wrists and putting your arms behind your back, he traps them in one hand. He is so powerful, so raw, so bullish and it makes you so fucking hot.
“Oh fuck,” you whine. You don’t stop grinding, you can’t. You know how you must look, desperately riding him, you are so aroused you almost don’t care. But Sy’s eyes are hungry as he looks at you, and you realise he’s as turned on as you are.
“Fuck.” Sy’s face is pulled into that same animalistic snarl he had earlier as he starts to rub your clit with his thumb. “You like it rough, huh?”
“Fuck,” you cry. “Fuck yes.”
“You look so fuckin’ hot riding my cock, Baby. Look at you go.” He lets your hands go and grabs you by the throat. “Faster, Baby,” he urges. “I wanna feel you cum on my cock.” Then he kisses you, mouth pressed hard to yours, and you struggle to breathe, but you don’t want to pull away.
Your peak hits you fast, and you cry out into Sy’s mouth as your whole body begins to contract and shudder. “Jesus Christ. You’re squeezin’ me hard. That's so good, Baby.” You fall onto his chest as your orgasm ebbs away. Boneless, exhausted, and satisfied you can do nothing but try and catch your breath.
Sy isn’t finished though, and you hold onto his neck as he growls and rolls you both over until you are on your back. He pushes your legs apart and buries his face into your cunt, giving you a deep lick. You squeal, you’re too sensitive and try to bring your legs together.
“Fuck Darlin’. You taste so fuckin’ sweet.” Sy climbs on top of you holding his weight on his elbows, and you cry out as he fills you again. His dog tags swing in front of you and he grabs them, roughly throwing them over his back. “Next time, I’m gonna eat your pussy.”
You clutch and paw at his shoulders, your nails digging in as you try and hold on. He is brutal as he chases his high with fast, furious, and savage thrusts. It doesn’t take long before his whole-body tenses and he holds himself deep within you as he starts to cum with a deep guttural groan. You feel him pulse he releases, pulling out slightly and driving himself in until he is spent.
He lays next to you, on the bed, sucking in deep breaths. You hear a raspy sigh of contentment from him as he rolls to his side and lays an arm and leg over you. You turn your head to look at him, he’s already staring at you, his blue eyes, warm and bright. He smiles and gives you a quick kiss.
“Stay the night?” he asks. You don’t answer straight away, you want to, but you don’t know if he’s just being polite.
“Do you want me to?”
Sy lays his hand on your cheek and brings his face closer to yours. “I wouldn’t ask ya if I didn’t want you to.”
His smile gets wider, he doesn’t even try to hide that he’s glad you agreed. You stay there a little longer, just looking at each other. You spot his dog tags, and you hold them, reading them again. This time he lets you, and kissing your forehead he asks, “Why don’t you call me Noah from now on?”
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hello! I hope you're doing well! could I request a headcannon and/or imagine for shinsou, bakugo and hawks where the reader has bad period cramps and they're taking care of her? just got my period today and my cramps are super bad :(
s/o with bad period cramps
character(s) : shinsou hitoshi, bakugou katsuki, hawks — takami keigo (bnha)
legend : [Y/N = your name] reader can have periods, they/them pronouns used, quirk not specific, aged up in hawks (no smut)
headcanon type : fluff, comfort (x reader)
note(s) : shucks, i hope you feel better anon :( period cramps are the worst, especially when theres other added side effects to it 😔 i don’t write for hawks a lot, so im sorry if there’s incorrect characterization. but i do hope this helps!
»»————- ♡ ————-««
he hates seeing you like this— i’ve mentioned this before in my s/o with a stomach virus headcanon list
i mean, he definitely knows what period cramps are, he’s not an idiot. he can picture what it probably feels like— so ultra respect
but he didn’t know that yours were THAT bad 😨
when he walked into your room, expecting you to be eagerly waiting for him on your bed— he’s surprised to see you on the floor, in pain and not moving
almost panics and nearly runs out to call for help, but you grabbed on him— explaining that it’s just your period cramps being the worst
sighs in relief sorta he’s just glad that you’re conscious and all
during times like this, he wished that he had a heat based quirk— and he wishes he could do a lot more to help
but nah, it’s just him and his brainwashing quirk
“don’t beat yourself up about it,” you weakly smile, as if you knew what he was thinking about— and he sighs, moving to carry you off the floor
moves extra carefully, because hitoshi here, thinks that sound could trigger your cramps again 🧎♂️
insists that you stay in bed for the entire day— excluding bathroom visits. still carries you to the bathroom, and back.
winces every time your cramps start attacking again, hates seeing you in pain, after all.
gets you pain medicines that work for you, urges you to take them— and will use his quirk if he has to. it’s urgent anyway, and you’re not pressed if he had to use it for you to take them
but if you don’t prefer pain medicine, that’s fine. because that’s where solution 2 comes in— a heating pad
fills your heating pad with water for you, and if you don’t have one— he’ll make a makeshift one, or he’ll go out and buy one
king of back massages. those hands do wonders for the knots on your back
gets a kitten and gives it to you— so you could be distracted from the pain. but, if you’re allergic, you could always hold him though
rubs your stomach when the both of you watch cute cat/animal videos together.
if you ask him to brainwash you to sleep the pain away, he’ll be reluctant at first glance, thinking that it’s just your pain talking
but hitoshi always ends up doing it, after all— how could he resist you? he’ll do anything to make you comfortable
and thus, that’s how you ended up sleeping in his arms for the rest of the day.
knows what a period is, and cramps— really thanks to health class. but i don’t think he knows the extent of how bad they could be
until he accidentally overheard a conversation that mentioned “Y/N”, “pain”, “room”, and katsuki immediately bolted to your room
man was about to SQUARE UP
like,, who hurt you? tell him! because they’ll be facing his wrath, now!
enters the room, and sees you on the floor. freaks out at first, since well,, you’re on the floor, and in pain
which forced you to explain what the source of your pain was, before he went out and fought someone he assumed caused your pain— and his gaze softens
looks irritated, and it looks like he’s thinking ‘that’s all? wow’
but this is just him not knowing what to do. you just look like you’re in so much pain and he doesn’t have an instant solution— compared to the usual.
“you coulda texted me, y’know?” he mutters, carrying your pained body and placing it onto the bed as gentle as he could
will tell you to ‘quit whining’ as he caresses his hand on your cheek, trying to comfort you to the best of his abilities.
moving on to the next topic!
his quirk is perfect for a heating pad. used to hate his unusually hot hands in the relationship aspect— since he’d be worried about hand holding
because y’know. sweaty palms, constantly. but! at least he knows that he’s useful.
goes stiff and his cheeks start turning red, when you suddenly grabbed his hand, placing it where it pained you the most
“,, i could’ve done that myself.” he states, a little quieter than usual.
similar to shinsou, he’ll INSIST that you stay in bed, don’t even try arguing with him. he’ll win the dispute anyway
either way— you’re in too much pain, so that’s out of the question. you’ll just do what he says
carries you to the bathroom, and back— despite complaining that he even has to. nah, he’ll do it either way. you know how it is
“why do i even have to carry you?” he says with an eyeroll, but if you insist that you walk there yourself, he’ll give you an earful 💀
will glare at you, if you even move an inch, especially when he has his heated hand on your stomach.
“what did i just say?”
“i barely moved, kats!”
“you still moved, now stay still.”
forces you to take pain meds, words strong— but actions surprisingly soft for katsuki
will talk to your stomach with the usual harshness, but in a whispered tone💀 “hey bitch, stop giving Y/N a hard time.” it makes you laugh
will act like he’ll remove his hand when you finally fall asleep, but when you do— he moves you closer to his body, hand still resting on your stomach.
carries pain meds everywhere he goes. the bakusquad tries not to ask why he has several packs of pain medication in his pocket
hawks — takami keigo
kinda educated— quite similar to how bakugou knows about this kind of topic
but knows a bit more than him because well,, man’s twenty three. and! he has female co-workers and friends that gave him some insight
was a little awkward, and lowkey tone deaf when it came to periods at first— until an incident happened, which changed things forever
he accidentally pissed off miruko when she was on her own cycle, and the aftermath was probably one of the worst few days of his life.
he flies over to your place, standard routine. everytime he finished up on his tasks for the day, he’d fly over, tap on your window— and you’d let him in.
but he knocked, and knocked, and knocked. but you wouldn’t answer. naturally, he was starting to wonder if you got robbed while he was gone
he’s worried, and he was going to call your phone— thinking you were just asleep
but then he saw you on the floor, what it appeared to be in pain. this causes him to panic, red wings flapping almost violently— nearly busting down your window
until he saw you crawl to the window, your hands reaching to unlock the window
“hey, kei. did expect you to come around this soon!” and you’re still on the floor, which makes him wonder what has caused you this much pain
luckily, by the way you clutched your stomach, and the way you wore black sweatpants— made him connect the dots
“cramps?” he asks, just to make sure. oh, and it was definitely not because he wanted to crack a light hearted joke
“yeah, they’re really, really bad.” yeah, by the sound of that— there should be no more joking around here. he has to get to work
he has never called miruko’s number any faster.
“what’s up bird brain? didn’t we just see each other like,, 10 minutes ago?”
“as someone that has shown me the period’s wrath, how bad do these period cramps hurt? Y/N’s hurting real bad now.”
“period’s wrath??— okay, first of all. you should definitely go to the store for some supplies. pain medicine, snacks, and a heating pad. try not to take too long though, i don’t wanna hear Y/N’s potential horror story, about how their boyfriend left them for dead for an hour.”
“,, got it.”
flies as fast he could to the store— buying a large selection of desserts, pain meds, and two different types of heating pads.
“choose whatever works for you, song bird.” he says, when he picks you up and actually flies to the bedroom— your surprised squeak when he picked you up, falling deaf on his ears
the king of massages too.
and definitely the king at comforting. has you in his arms, as his wings surrounded you protectively— peppering kisses on your temples when you get another intense cramp attack
also uses his feathers to sooth you when you’re at the peak of your pain. it sounds like it doesn’t work, but trust me— it does every single time. you don’t know how he does it.
will say random shit to make you laugh. it is practically fail proof— and he kinda says the first thing that comes into his mind when he thinks of jokes
“my little ketchup packet, get better soon.”
“keigo wtf.” still makes you cackle though, even though it hurts
watches over you to see if anything hurts— like a hawk no pun intended and will move to defeat any cramp that wracks through your stomach
unlike the other two, he has his own tactic of getting you to take your pain meds.
“oh, i guess i have to eat all of this by myself. your stomach would be in pain if you ate all of this—”
“okay, okay! i’ll take them.”
“thank you, song bird.”
if he has to leave, he will give you a feather to make you feel like he’s with you.
okay but, if you’re cramping— and he’s not there with you, his feather will actually get some pain relievers for you. how convenient!
without a fail, hawks will always tease you when your period finally ends, and you’re no longer in pain. at least the man waits for a bit, before teasing you
likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!
i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby
do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission :))
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pairing: jungkook x virgin!reader
summary: "You want me to... what?" Jungkook chokes on his croissant, and how could he fucking not, with you looking at him with those pleading eyes, asking for something that he knows would get him into jail. Well, maybe not like actual jail. But definitely the Bro Code Jail. The jail where only bros who broke the Bro code went to.
genre: fluff - smut/college!au/brother’s best friend!au
rated: m (duh)
warnings: alcohol consumption, weed, cursing, handjobs, fingering, oral sex(f/m recieving), spitting (the good stuff y’know), slight breath play, unprotected sex (f is on birth control tho) and thats it i think i don’t even remember what else there is to it, based on my own experiences with sex lmaoo also demasiada redundancia, but my brain is is dry af so sorry
read sex education 2.0 here!
Ah, university!. Those years entering your twenties full of new found maturity, new found independence, new found people and experiences. An era focused in the exploration of oneself and the world surrounding, away from family and old acquatances with the sole purpose of learning, something you've always been extremely good at. Learning academmically until being able to build your own future; learning to socialize; learning to not feel lonely against loneliness; or "learning to roll blunts! greatest weed you'll ever have!", as Taehyung had whispered to you the day him and your parents dropped you on campus on your first day.
And yet, it was an era that had completely and utterly destroyed your expectations of the real world. For now, the only thing you've learned so far was the name of probably four people in your class, to subsist out of packs of ramen practically every day of the week except saturdays and sundays (because weekends allowed you waste money and indulge in Taco Bell and Chick-Fil-A) and that you had more of a tendency to roll your eyes than to roll blunts (although you appreciate the fact that Taehyung sneaked his usual pot dealer's phone number, a guy still stuck in college despite your brother having graduated two years prior.)
Always a good student with notables qualifications, finishing high school for you meant only one thing: freedom. A new feeling full of excitement and adrenaline that you hadn't felt since being elected class president in middle school. You were ready to take on the world! You were ready to evolve, to become, at last, the adult you've always dreamed of after being treated like a little girl due to the fact that you were the youngest in your family.
But, so far, nothing about what you thought would happen in college, had actually happened. After months being spent memorizing theorics that made you question if you had chosen the right major; after not skipping class (not even for a day!) and being filled with so much stress thanks to teachers and due dates (a miracle you didn't jump out of your dorm's window); and after working part time at the nearest café to campus while still passing tests with good grades just so you could be able to pay the damn scholarship and not to die in the attempt, the most important thing you had learned in college was: college fucking sucks.
Yes, frat parties are fun... when you don't drink more than all your friends combined and they have to hold your hair while you puke in a revolting toilet seat that's still dirty with cum from whatever disgusting frat boy. Yes, you have good friends even if you're still a loser lacking social life and your brother's friends are apparently all over campus acting like, well, your brother's friends. And yes, you got good grades and you were sure you would finish your major successfully and get the job you've always wanted and bla bla bla. But none of that mattered to you. Because at the tipe age of twenty two, you lacked in the only department a twenty two year old would never want to lack in: sex.
And it had nothing to do with your appearence or men not trying to hit on you. Not at all. Your first boyfriend, your highschool sweeteart, had treated like any schoolgirl would want to be treated and had let you go down on him on the backseat of his car the night of your graduation. And when you started college, you might have made out with a guy or two (or three, or four...), but it that never went farther than his hand down your skirt trying to clumsily make you cum, and it only ended with you crying pathetically becase you were "broken" and no one could ever make you reach your climax like your vibrator.
And you, not being the type of person that hooks up just for the sake of it (especially if it would always end the same way: you finishing yourself off), had come to the conclussion that maybe sex just wasn't for you. You didn't need it. You didn't care about your hymen being intact. Not when men were constantly proving themselves to be absolutely useless. Not when all those erotica novels you had read growing up had proven to be a scam. Because now that you're an adult, you're a hundred percent sure that it's fucking impossible for a simple kiss to make the main female character in those books feel such electricity and desire from her head, straight to her pussy.
No way. Just a scam. Never happened to you. Can't relate.
With a deep sigh, you raise your red cup to your lips until there's no more tequila and sprite remaining. Wincing away the taste, you open your eyes and look at your environtment. Yet another frat party that is making you regret putting mascara and lipstick on. You try to hide a yawn until Seulgi's voice snaps you of your thoughts.
"You need to get laid." she slurred her words, trying to refill her cup with more tequila and failing miserably when a splash of white liquor stains here jeans.
"And you're drunk." And water is wet. You slump back, not trying to supress a yawn this time. You pass her your cup to get a refill as well, helping her balance the bottle with your own hands to avoid a bigger mess. You're almost sure half of the stains on the sofa are hers and half of them... you don't even wanna know what they're from.
"Im seeerrrrioouss, _____." she hiccups and you giggle._ "This drrry spell is-JACKSON DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT COMING OVER HERE WITH THOSE DISSGUSTING CHEETOH FINGERSSS!" she draws her attention back to you. "Does he think I'm going to let him finger me again after that yeast infection he gave me? Ugh-" she sips again from her cup. You do as well after grimacing. Gross. "Anyways, as I was saying, this fucking dry spell is turning you into an even bigger bitch than you already are."
"Bitch, I'm fine. I'm just tired and this party is bo-ring." you swirl your cup, looking again at the landscape that surrounds you. One of the many things you hated about university and specially about frat parties: partys were jungles. People intoxicaded and unable to form coherent sentences caused by drugs that were probably not just alcohol, dancing on top of any surface they could find, breaking anyting on sight, fucking on the pool for everyone to see... Wild animals. "Besides, you know no man is worthy of this pussy."
"Lissssten, _____, I know sex for women is not as s... satis-satisfa-" she pauses and takes a deep breath."-Satisfffactory than it is for men. But maybe you just haven't found a guy that could truly turn you on." You roll your eyes and before you can contradict her, she's already speaking again. "Chose somebody. Life's about trying things and kissing frogs until you find what you like. " another shot and you're debating whether or not you should take the bottle away from her. "Remember when you didn't wanna try those jalapeño poppers and then, BAM, you're in love with the jalapeño popper." she laughs a little to herself. "Why is the word jalapeño so funny? Jalapeñooo... Jalapeño. Haha. Anyways. There's gotta be someone you find cute."
"Seulgi, I'm serious and I don't even want to talk about th-".
"What about that friend of your brother's? What was his name again?"
"Who? Jimin? Hoseok?"
"No, not the gay or the pot dealer. The other one. That one!" you follow Seulgi's finger, scannig the room until you find her target, furrowing your brows. Once you realize who she's talking about, you stifle a laugh.
"Jungkook!?" head trown back, and now fully laughing histerically. "As in, Jeon Jungkook? The same Jungkook that cried and blocked me on every social media because I won at Overwatch and it was only my first time playing?" "Yeah. He's super hot. Look at those tattoos, ay papi." Seulgi fans herself with her own hands and you remind yourself to keep her from watching more telenovelas unless it's too late and she ends up believing she's actually a latina.
You look at Jungkook again, 5'11 tall, dark hair (longer than the last time you had seen him) falling messily in slight waves, black shirt and blackk jeans suffocating his muscled arms and thighs. Alright, yes. Jungkook was handsome. Like, really handsome and hot. A potential Calvin Klein model.
But you had also seen each other grown up. Being the only friend your brother had that was closer to your age, you had seen him go through every phase, from childhood, to puberty and to adulthood, and he had done the same with you. From being that awkward and lanky boy who couldn't introduce himself without his whole face turning pink, into the attractive and charismatic grown ass man of twenty three years of age that he had become.
"Jungkook is hot. But, like you said, he's also my brother's best friends. So, off limits."
You watched as Jungkook chatted with a pretty girl from his year, the girl (Eunji? Eunha? Whatever) obviously enjoying his attention and the way his hand subtly rubbed circles on her waist, pulling her closer while he drank from his cup, not breaking eye conact. Yeah, no. Jungkook also knew what he was doing. Well known fuckboy all over campus. Had no problem getting any girl he wanted so why would he waste his time with you? With a weird feelin in your tummy, you take the tequila bottle from Seulgi and drink directly from it while she slumps back on the couch.
"There has to be somebody, _____!"
And there he was.
Lucas was in the majority of your classes, but somehow, he hadn't caught your attention until a few days after that conversation with Seulti. He sat down on the sit in front of yours and turned around to ask for a pen, and just like a stupid teenage movie, the rest of students disappeared and it was just you, and his beautiful face. It took you a few seconds to process his words, but then you started going through your bag with skaky fingers. Its the brush of his fingertips against yours, that friendly smile of his and his warm eyes that made the little voice inside your head scream at you: "Fuck him!"
Even when the class was dismissed and he turned around once again to ask for your phone number and ask you if you'd like to have coffee with him someday, your mouth said ‘I'd love to’ while your head kept screaming ‘Let him murder this pussy!’
And you would've done it immediately if you had known how to. Because after spending so long with little to none sexual interactions and all of them turning out to be heavily disappointing, you realized that you had absolutely no knowledge about the art of seduction or what came after it. About what to do in bed and how to do it. And about what you wanted to be done to you, and in what way.
You considered all your possibilities. The first being, just go at it. An option you discarded almost as fast as you came up with. Because, who the hell would want a desperate viring begging to be fucked? You didn't want to be inexperienced. You wanted to act like a woman, not like a hormonal teenager
The second possibility? Go slowly. Getting to know him. And that was going well, for now. Lucas was respecful, funny and a gentleman. Held the door open for you, shared his brownie even after you told him you weren't hungry, walked you to your dorm. And after three weeks of sporadically dating and texting each other memes non stop, nothing happened. Not even a kiss. Or interlacing your fingers with his. No sexual innuendos. No nothing. And so your desperation for intimicy made you resort to the third possibility.
A third possibility that might not have happened if it wasn't for the deadly combination of Seulgi, Hoseok and a few grams of weed.
"You need a plan C." Seulgi's voice sounds almost in slow motion in your ears and you pass the joint in your hand to Hoseok who's sitting on the floor with his head prompted on a pillow.
"There's no plan C. There were only two options: either ask him to fuck me on the first date or wait for him to ask me to fuck me on the fifth. We're already on our seventh date. I'm fucked."
"Well... you're not really like, fucked, fucked, you know... haha..." you reach out to pull the pillow from under Hoseok's head without warning while he simply laughed and kept smoking.
"What else can I do? I'm a twenty two year old virgin who only has experience with blowjobs and I'm not even sure if I'm experienced enough in that... I thought it would be easy but-ugh!" you said, pressing the pillow on your face and muffling your own voice.
"Get someone to teach you."
"Teach me what?"
"Teach you the dirty, dumbass."
"Seulgi, who the fuck would do that?"
"Bitch, literally any man would cream his pants if a girl walked up to them and said "I'm a little virgin, would you like to teach me how to ride your cock"?
You stayed silent, blaming the weed for taking in consideration Seulgi's idea.
Hoseok can be heard taking a last drag of the blunt before saying, "Don't look at me."
Another Saturday, another frat party.
And you again, getting drunk with Seulgi and Hoseok by your side while you cross the names of possible candidates who didn't make the cut on the dirty napkin Hoseok had picked earlier that night to pick his nose with. Vernon is too young, Hoseok is trying to get with a girl from his class. Jimin is too busy eating pussy or sucking dick... Or both. And Minghao is too sleazy and thinks he's funnier than he actually is.
Who would've thought finding a fuckbuddy would be harder than finding a stable commitment in your early twenties?
"This is stupid. No one's apt."
"Either no one's apt, or you're expectations are waaaay too high. Men are trash. You just have to find the least smelling shit amongst the smelliest shit " Seulgi turns to Hoseok. "Don't care if you get offended..."
"Facts are facts." he shrugs, eyes already red while he inhales from the bong he's currently holding in his hands.
"This still sucks. I'm doomed. I'm gonna die a virgin. Why is it so hard to find somebody who I'm comfortable enough with to show him my tits and my woohoo?" feeling yourself wanting to cry out of frustration, you ask Hoseok to pass you the bong.
"Have you really thought about all your options? You sure you're not leaving anyone behind? Like, I don't know, what about-”
"JHOOOOOOPE!" Hoseok's voice gets cut off by a tipsy Jungkook throwing himself unceremoniously on the couch you three are sharing, fist bumping his friend. "Minghao is looking for you outside. Says he wants to buy 50 dollars worth of weed before he spends it on Domino's. Says he's on a diet or something.”
Hoseok stands up with a huff, complaining about Domino's being shit and PizzaHut being the real winner. Jungkook then looks at you and Seulgi, spreading his thighs on the space Hoseok had left available. "Good night, ladies. How's your night going?"
"Terribly. I have to pee. Hoseok, wait for me." Seulgi stands up as well, and you take her hand to stabilize her after she stumbles from side to side.
"Want me to come with you so you don't get kidnapped?" you ask, although too comfortable in your own seat and too high to move.
"Nah, don't worry, mi amor. I'm a strong independent woman. All my women who're independent. Throw your hands up at me!" completely out of tune, Seulgi almost trips when she bumps into someone who's also visibly under the influence. "I'll text you if I can't get my panties back on, alright." you nod.
And now it's just you and Jungkook.
"Well, how's your night going? You look kind of miserable." Jungkook sips from his beer while eyeing you up and down, trying to study your appearence without lingering too much on the way that crop top accentuates your cleavage. He's about to ask if you're cold because he doens't believe the nipples he's noticing through the fabric are a product of his imagination or the six beers he's had so far. He then clears his throat and realizes he's probably more drunk than he thought because the question "are you even wearing a bra?" is on the tip of his tongue. He takes another sip to prevent himself from talking.
But then you're talking and offering Hoseok's bong to him.
"Thanks. You always know what to say to make a girl's heart flutter, Jungkook." you fake a smile while he laughs and ruffles your hair like a child The same way he's been doing since you were ten. "Don't you got nothing else to do besides disturbing my peace? No new girl to take to your stinky dorm?"
"The answer to your first question is no. The answer to the second question is also no. But the answer to your last statement is,." he says with a hand on his chest and feigning being offended. "my room smells like pine trees and lavander! And maybe a little bit of salt and vinegar chips." You roll your eyes but don't try to hide a smile. He returns it before brings the lighter in his hand to light up the bong. "Not having fun, babe?" he asks before taking a hit. Your eyes have a mind of their own when they travel along his arms, silently admiring the dark design running along with his veins down his hands and fingers. And that's when you felt it.
That small spark of electricity directly into your core and your stomach tying itself into a knot. And you almost cannot believe it because it's the first time you've felt that way since you were thirteen years old and searching on youtube "girls kissing hot". On top of that, you cannot believe it was Jungkook, your brother's best friend for as long as you can remember(the disgusting brat that just laughed of you when you fell down a a hill with you were learning how to ride a bike and who used to wipe his nose on your first pairs of bras just because he thought it was comedically genius), the one who achieved it. And the voice inside your head is screaming at you again this time something you never thought it would scream at you: "You're gonna let Jeon Jungkook fuck you into oblivion."
You swallow thickly when you realize you haven't answered his question and he's looking at you expectantly.
You swallow thickly when you realize you haven't answered and he's looking at you expectantly.
"Hey, Jungkook. Would you do me a favor?"
"You want me to... what?" Jungkook chokes on his croissant, and how could he fucking not, with you looking at him with those pleading eyes, asking for something that he knows would get him into jail. Well, maybe not like actual jail. But definitely the Bro Code Jail. The jail where only bros who broke the Bro code went to.
He thought he was here to drink a strawberry milkshake and make dick jokes with Hoseok while you and Seulgi threaten them with throwing your burning coffees on their laps if they didn't shut up, as usual. But when he arrived to the cafeteria, with no Hoseok and no Seulgi in sight, just you, waving at him from your table and with a nervous smile on your lips, he knew you were up to someting. He knew, but he didn't know you would put his life at risk in such way.
"Don't make me say it again! Please!" you took his hands in yours, trying to bury the butterflies dancing in your stomatch at the warmth of this touch. Because ever since that night in which you, very drunk and very high, almost asked him to pound you on that very same couch in front of everyone to see if your friends hadn't returned to their spots next to you in that same moment, Jungkook's hands had been the new main character of your sexual fantasies. Fantasies that had been sleeping for so long and now were finally awake again.
"_____, are you even listening to yourself? You want me to have se-!" he stops himself and looks at his surroundings before lowering his voice. "Y-You want me t-to have sex with you, are you insane?!" he whispers instead and you let out a frustrated moan.
"Ugh! I just want you to teach me the basics. That's all, Jungkook. Why are you making this so hard?."
"Because there's a lot of boys on campus you can choose from! Why don't you just pick any of them, like everyone else does!?" you pull your hands back from Jungkook's and grip your cup of coffe instead, finding the belt of your bag much more interesting than his eyes and much less intimidating.
"Because... they're... you know..." there's silence before you speak again Jungkook raises eyebrows, waiting for you to ellaborate. "...men."
"So?" he says with an exhasperated tone.
"I-" and right now you just want be swallowed by the ground because you have no other option than to explain to Jungkook you're still a virgin and, fuck, if he laughs at you you swear you're gonna cry for real. But still, you put on your big girl pants and decide to be a hundred percent straightforward with him."I've never done it before..." you mumble and finally meeting his eyes. His eyes widen a little bit and he opens his mouth as if to say something, but you don't let him. " Like, I've done... stuff... But never... all the way... " you sigh, still not letting him intercept. "And it's always been disappointing, Jungkook. So disappointing to the point that I-I thought m-maybe there was something wrong with me..." he's listening to you carefully now, slightly relaxing back in his chair while he waits for you to continue.
"So I've been focusing on school and not on mi personal life for years, and time has passed so fast and now I'm twenty two, and I'm still exactly where I was before, and...and there's this guy. His name's Lucas, he's really cute and nice and I feel so..." you take a breath before adding in a whisper: "...pathetic." You look at him and Jungkook sees your shiny eyes, full of sadness and desperation and he has to look away, considering his options, although there aren't many because whatever he decides, he's fucked up. A few minutes of silence pass, and you decide to speak again.
"I've gone through all my options, and you're the only person around I know and feel comfortable enough with...I know you're Taehyung's best friend, but we've known each other for so long and I know how much you respect me and appreciate me..." you gulp, trying to keep your voice from trembling."I know you would treat me right."
He's bouncing his knee when you stare at him, something tight in your chest, waiting for his final rejection. Then he runs a hand through his hair and then, he looks at you.
"I'll think about it."
Days go by after that conversation with Jungkook. You expected, well, hoped, for an answer rather quickly (two days max, to be honest) but suddenly two weeks had gone by and you have not gotten a word from Jungkook. At first you felt disappointed, reject and afraid you friendship with him would be compromised by your stupid proposition. You had the feeling you screwed up big time because you had also not seen Jungkook since then, which later made you realize he was most likely avoiding you.
However, your sorrow quickly turned into anger. What an asshole. Okay, so maybe you did make things awkward and he made it very clear he would not touch you with a stick, but he was still supossed to act like a friend, at least out of loyalty for his best friend!
And if you were angry before, you were fuming next time you saw him. Because there he was, at the same frat party you were in, with a different girl than the last one he attended to.
You down the rest of your drink fast before crushing the red plastic cup with your hand and making your way towards him.
"What the fuck is your problem!?" you didn't even know how you would be confronting him and you blamed the alcohol in your system for the way you snapped. Jungkook and the unknown girl next to him jumped at your intrusion.
"_____, what-" Jungkook looks at you like a deer in deadlights and you cross your arms over your chest.
"Wait, is this your girlfriend?" the pretty girl next to him asks, eyeing you both up and down the same way you're doing with her and you suddenly feel self consciouss, because of course with the amount of modelesque girls Jungkook tends to hook up with, you don't stand a chance.
"No!" you both say at the same time. "Chungha, wait-" but Jungkook's attempt at pulling the girl's attention back to him is in vain. "Ok, what the fuck is your problem!?"
"My problem?" you huff, outraged. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe the fact I asked you to have sex with me and instead of being a real man and saying a simple "no" to my face you've been avoiding me for like two weeks?" you don't realized your voice is louder than it's suppossed to be, and you frankly don't care, when Jungkook shushes you, already aware of the wondering eyes aiming at you two.
"Will you keep your voice down, please?" he huffs and pushes his hair back before looking at you, unmoved and still with smoke coming out of your ears. "Let's just... Let's talk somehwere more private. Let's go."
And before you can protest, he's already taking your hand in his and guiding you through the mass of sweaty bodies up the stairs and into an empty room, ignoring the whistles and high fives directed at him. You, instead, ignore how much you like the feeling of this hand against yours and the tingles it sents down your spine at the mere thought of actually getting alone with Jungkook in differente circumstances.
Once the two of you find a bedroom without any horny drunk yelling at you to "close the fucking door!" he lets go of your hand and takes a deep breath without looking at you, hands on his hips. You're more calm now, but you're still mad and annoyed, and worts of all, frustrated. Because you just needed a helping hand, nothing more. If he could fuck any girl he wanted with no remorse, why couldn't he fuck you with no remorse as well?
"So?" you're the first one to speak, crossing your arms over your chest and he finally turns around to face you. " You said-"
"I know what I said! And I've been thinking about it, ______, but for fucks sake, don't you think that's a pretty big decision to make?" he sighs."What you asked me to do... I can't-"
"Why? Why can't you?" you don't care anymore about what he has to say, all you can do is run your mouth. You're hurt, you're tired and behind all the rage you're experiencing, you feel small. You feel like maybe there is someting wrong with you, and maybe you're never getting out of this state of misery. Because it's not just about sex. It's about your self steem and about how much you want to experience something good in that area for one. "Am I really asking such a hard task to do? Is the thought of your dick going anywhere near my vagina seriously that nauseating?"
He flinches at your words. "Wow, wow. What are you talking about? What-"
"So you don't have a problem fucking any pussy with legs on campus but you have a problem fucking mine?"
"Because you're the only one in campus who's my best friend's little sister! Is that too hard to understand,_____!?" he's the one raising his voice now and you flinch, taking a step back. You close your eyes tightly, trying to supress the prickling of tears behind your eyelids, not without Jungkook noticing and taking a step forward trying to reach for you. "____...."
"Fine." you take another step back, dodging his grip. "I'll just get someone else to do it."
You uncross your arms, ready to turn around and leave to find Seulgi, go back to your dorm and probably cry in her arms while she tells you Jungkook is going to wake up the next day with a flat tire, but then he's calling you again, and this time he the grip he has on your wrist is too firm for you to dodge.
"Who? Who are you going to ask?" his voice is strained and you try to ignore the shiver down your spine. You pull yourself together and try to pull your hand back, but he's persistent so you look at him.
"Anyone. I don't care anymore." you try to make your voice sound steady, but it's getting harder with him closer than before and his scent making you dizzy.
"_____, you know that's the dumbest idea you've ever had and you're gonna regret it..." his grip on you softens and his thumb softly caresses your skin, encouraging you to face him fully. Once you do, you resist the urge to look away from his gaze but you feel trapped, internally thanking yourself for putting on high heels, even with him still towering over you.
"Well," you clear your throat, "the smartest idea was getting you to do it but you obviously have no interest in getting your hands on me so-" you're cut off by his hand releasing your wirst and swiftly finding its way on the small of your back, pushing your chest flush against his.
"You think I don't wanna get my hands on you?" his free hand gets moving, traveling slowly from your clavicle, to the pulse on your neck. He tucks a strand of your hair behing your ear, and you don't realize you are on your tip toes, angling your head up towards him, unil you feel his breath fanning over your lips. His eyes bore into yours, almost begging, pleading, for you to understand without having to voice out his desires. Still, you need a confirmation. You gulp before saying:
"You tell me." barely a whisper, you lick your lips, mouth suddenly dry and your insides shaking. He closes his eyes in return and gulps, the warmth of his body engulfing you and the smell of his cologne and fabric softener pulling you closer until his forehead is resting against yours.
"If your brother finds out-" he starts, but you interrupt him again.
"He won't." as soon as the words leave your mouth, his lips are on yours and you both sigh in unision. He kisses you gently, like he's afraid of going too far already and you can't help but finally get out of your paralyzed state to bring your hands to his chest, rumpling the fabric between your hands. He pulls back but before you can complain, he kisses you again, his tongue swiping briefly over your bottom lip, asking for permission. You grant it and Jungkook almost regrets it. Because nothing could've prepared him for the immediate stirring of his cock the moment your tongue meets his and a low whimper leaves your throat.
Throwing all caution out the window and now feeling powerless (it’s impossible, basically, when you're now running your fingers through his hair and kissing him with such desperation he's already forgetten who you are and who he is and why this is so wrong), he walks back with you still in his arms until the back of his knees touch the edge of the bed, and when you straddle his thighs and roll your hips over his crotch, he lets out a pathetic whine that he swears he's never heard coming from himself before and he resists the urge to pull your hair and land a hard smack on your ass because he's the one who's suppossed to be in charge, not you. But he can't stop kissing you, so he'll save that thought for another time, hopefully.
His hands dance between your waist and your hips and you know it hasn't even been more than five minutes since you started making out, but you already feel your underwear embarrassingly clinging to your folds. So wet you now understand that all those romantic books you'd read in your teenage years were not scams like you had initially thought before, but instead, the ninety nine percent of the male population was (the remaining one percent being Jeon Jungkook).
And all you can think of is more, more and more.
"Baby-," he's trying."hold on." he's trying, he really is trying to stop because fucking you in a frat party is not what you deserve and, if he's going to go through with this, he's going to do it the right way. But it's so hard to think straight with you attaching your mouth to his all over again so he just keeps running his hands over any part of your body he finds."Baby girl, wait..." it's the unusual nickname that makes you come down from the cloud you're currently in, a weird feeling tugging at your chest at the mere thought of him using it with other girls.
"What's wrong?" you whisper against his lips with another roll of your hips that makes the both of you shake and gasp.
"Not like this." he gives you another kiss, his tongue tangling with yours again. Too filthy for someone who's suppossedly trying to keep his dick from twitching and from pulling your panties aside and just sliding in your heat. Finally slowing down until you're pouting with a huff. He almost smiles at the sight before pecking your lips again, still running his hands up and down your back. "We still need to talk about... this and how we're going to do it."
"I just don't know what's really there to talk about." you complain, mouthful of a slice of greasy pepperoni pizza.
"Well, I think we need to go through what kind of stuff you're exactly trying to... learn." Jungkook's ears turn pink and you're starting to doubt this was the same guy that ruined your favourite set of panties a few nights ago.
"Like I said," you swallow the remaining bit of crust before adding in "just the basics. Just want you to teach me what guys like and maybe learn what I like. I've never been good at giving handjobs, for instance. And I'm not sure if the blowjobs I give are worth it. We could start there and we'll think about the rest as we go."
Jungkook tenses in his seat when the image of you on your knees with your pretty mouth dripping saliva down his cock flashes through his mind. Sure, ever since that night (or maybe even before, if he's being honest) he hasn't been able to think about anything else than fucking you on any position you'd be willingly let him fuck you, but the realization that it's actually gonna happen is making him and his dick feel restless.
He clears his throat.
"Alright, so...Friday night?"
"Mmm, Friday night I'm busy. Lucas is taking me bowling. What about Saturday night?"
Jungkook clenches his jaw, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek while he tries to act like that didn't annoy him.
"So...Do I just... dive in?"
You're sitting cross legged on Jungkook's bed on Saturday night, wearing some leggins and an old t shirt you'd quickly thrown on thirty minutes ago before making your way to his room. Your hair's messily tied in a low bun and you're not wearing makeup and Jungkook cursed under his breath after letting you in because it's not fair how pretty you look without even trying and he might be already regretting agreeing to all of this once again. There had been some awkward small talk, neither of you knowing how to exactly approach the situation until you got fed up of him avoiding eye contact.
"What do you mean "just dive in"? I'm not even hard yet!" he finally looks at you, with his oversized shirt and sweatpants and his chaotic hair (which he probably had run his fingers through like a hundred times out of nervousness waiting for your arrival).
"Alright, sorry. So how do I make it hard?"
Jungkook rubs the back of his head in frustration, trying to hide the red dusting on his cheeks. "I don't know, maybe..." he swallows the lump in his throat. "Maybe we should make out a little first..."
A tinge of excitement runs from your head to toe and you try to brush aside your inner uneasiness by repeating to yourself that this was just Jungkook, this was just Jungkook, this was just Jungkook. "Ok, I'll close my eyes and you kiss me. This is too awkward already." you close your eyes like you said you would and wait for him to make the first move.
A few seconds of complete silence pass, and you start to worry, reconsidering opening them up again and asking him if he was alright. But before you do that, you hear him taking a deep breath, almost like he's about to do something risky that he doesn't really wanna do, and then he's closing the distance between you two.
His lips are as soft as you remembered them to be, and, in fact, it does remind you of the first kiss you shared. Except this time, there's not much hesitation and you easily melt into each other. It's your tongue this time that is begging to taste his, with your hand on his cheek and his on the small of your back, pulling you a bit closer, and you hum at the same, like you both were agreeing on how badly you wanted it to happen again. And, god, he's such a good kisser.
The way he takes your breath away, the way he goes from soft and gentle to needy and rough with his teeth nipping at your bottom lip, the way he makes you be vocal with small moans that don't even sound like you, the way he he's taking your hand resting on his cheek and slowly dragging it down his neck, his covered chest and abs, down to his...
You let out a gasp that he muffles with his mouth once again when his hand guides yours over his now fully erect member over his sweatpants. That’s when you finally understand that it's not just his good looks and gym rat body that made girls coming back for more.
With your hand having a mind of it's own, it's quick to tug at the band of his sweatpants, begging him to at least feel him through his underwear, which earns you a shaky laugh from Jungkook, but he obediently complies.
He's impossibly hard and you're impossibly wet when you grip his impressive lenght through the fabric. So much so you have to pull away, a trail of spit connecting your mouths as you ask him to take off his boxers off. It takes a while for the words to finally hit Jungkook and snap, trembling hands reaching towards his nightstand for a bottle of lube that he carelessly throws next to you before pushing himself slightly from the bed to pull down enough of his boxers for his shaft to spring free. Your mouth starts watering and you can't take your yes off it, standing proudly long and thick, veinsand all and a droplet of precum on the head.
You turn your attention back to him when he clears his throat and points to the lube he's holding, waiting for you to spread the palm of your hand in the air to squirt some into it.
"Alright, um..." you say, tone hoarse. "Where do it-"
"Like this." he guides your lubed hand south until his cock is wrapped around it, ignoring the way he himself sounds (like a lame highschooler getting a handjob for the first time). His touch on top of yours, trying to control the pace until you got the hang of it. "F-firm, but n-no, not so firm. Start m-moving it up and d-down a litt-, okay. M-much better, yeah, much better." letting go, he leans back on the mattress supported by his hands, with his eyes closed as you watch and listen with fascination, the lewd sounds of the lubricant against skin and his cock twitching in your grasp, leaking more precum.
Out on instinct, you collect it with your fingers, mixing it with the lube and smearing it over his tip. He jumps a little, a gasp escaping his throat, and you cease your movements immediately. "I-I'm sorry, did I h-"
"Don't stop." his eyes are still close, his jaw clenched and his voice sounds stern, nothing like just a few minutes ago. A shiver runs down your spine and if your panties weren't completely ruined before, they most likely were now. Before you can help yourself, you're moving on your knees on the floor, right between his glorious spread thighs, picking up again where you left off. "What are you-oh!" and ohmygod, ohmygod, because if Jungkook was enjoying a simple stupid handjob, the feeling of your tongue giving a kitten lick to another drop of precum was almost enough to send him over the edge.
He curses under his breath, damming you and himself for not jacking off before your appointment so he could at least be more prepared than he was. And with you now wrapping your mouth over his angry red tip and swirling your tongue and your hand not giving him a break, it's him now the one who can't help himself and reach out to the back of your neck, untying your hair from your messy bun and instead combing your hair with his fingers and pulling it into a ponytail himself.
And it's that action that makes your pussy clench around nothing paired with a whiny moan, still with his dick in the warmth of your mouth, his labored breathing only egging you on to try yo take him deeper. And it's Jungkook and his strained praising telling you "Just like that, so good. So fucking good" that has you eager to take him deeper, as far as your gag reflex would let you, it has you yearning to choke on his dick. You'd never, in the entirety of your twenty two years of life, been hungry for dick before, but holy fuck, Jungkooks' was making you feel starved.
"Fuck, _____..." Jungkook's eyes are fully on you, and had been for a while now, admiring the sinful sight that was you, bobbing your head up and down his painfully hard cock. With a needy whimper against his shaft again and your watery gaze looking up to meet his, you try to explain to him without words how much you need him to keep talking, to tell you how good you were making him feel.
The faint smile he sends your way seems like a confirmation he understands, because he raises his free hand to let his thumb caresses your cheek and he tries to avoid thinking about how intense and uneven the pounding in his chest feels. "You look so p-pretty with my cock s-stuffing your mouth. Taking m-me so-fucking, well... " he wets his lips, hesitating on whether or not voicing what was really going through his mind would scare you and make you back off. But licking his lips, he couragously decides to push further. "F-fuck, choking on my dick like such a good girl... It's taking everythig in me to not fuck your mouth until you're scratching my thighs to make me stop."
You suddenly stop, desattaching his dick from your lips with a loud pop, your glassy eyes looking at him and mouth dripping with a mixture of saliva, lube and precum, and he, afraid he might have gone too far, is about to apologize, but before he can do any of that you're talking:
"I need you to cum in my mouth. Want to swallow like a good girl for you."
And then his cock is in your mouth again and he swears he's coming harder than he's ever come before.
Jungkook is outraged.
He's been late practically to every single one of his classes this last week, he's stained his favourite swearshirt with soy sauce, and he hasn't been able to take a break from assignments to play Fortinte for a few hours.
There's three things Jungkook hates in life: people underestimating him, people provoking him when he's simply just minding his own business and you, in a miniskirt. And it seems like you had decided to ticked all those boxes and test all his limits in just one day.
Because the skirt you had greeted him in inside your room made him hard the minute you opened the door (like it wasn't enough jacking off five times and running out of tissues thinking about that blowjob you gave him a week ago).
And, really, he swears he's tried to restrict himself from lunging himself at you, because his week has sucked ass and he really needs to get his mind off things and he's afraid he's going to take it out on you undeservengly. It was you the one who had inticed him, with that skirt and those glossy lips and the batting of your eyelashes!
But if there's something that has truly made Jungkook enraged is hearing you say you have never liked cunnilingus.
'I just think it's overrated and more painful than pleasurable.' you had said before starting another fervent make out session in your bed.
And fuck, he's afraid of touching you and screwing up and you telling him to please stop touching you. But at the same time he's so eager to see you coming undone under him, to hear you pleading him not to stop, to never stop, and to feel you coming on his tongue and having your thighs suffocating him.
So he's tentative at first, just letting you two get lost in your mouths, in those soft whimpers he's been dying to hear again. But having you laid under him, while softly combing the strands of hair he has forgotten to cut off for who knows how long, and one of your thighs raising just a tad from your mattress has him leaving the hand he currently has rubbing circles on your waist traveling to your hips and to the exposed skin that damn skirt you've been taunting him with is leaving available.
Now, Jungkook prides himself in knowing how women like to be touched, what makes them tick, what makes them putty in his hands. But with you, he wants to go slow even if that means torturing himself in the process.
So his fingers grace your skin, the metal of his rings causing your nipples to perk up under your shirt and a string of arousal leaving your nether lips. You sigh against his mouth, the kiss slow and dirty. He takes that as a sign to take it just one step further, his hand slightly spreading your legs so he can sneak his fingers to the inside of your thigh. He takes his time, his touch warm, not rough nor rushed as he starts moving upwards until he's skimming over the edge of lace adorning your mound.
"Can I touch you?" he asks, and he knows he's supposed to let you answer but his lips connect to yours on their own, too addicted to stop. You just nod, not trusting your voice to give him a coherent response even if you wanted to. And when his knuckles sweep your core, you sob under him and he hates how wet you are and how hard he is and he has barely touched you yet. "Wanna make you feel good." he rasps and you nod again, eagerly this time.
His touch getting braver, he runs his fingers more firmly against your slit, but still delicately like you're made of the finest and most exquisite material in the entire world. Panties damp, he allows himself to rub his thumb over your nub in circles and you moan again, the material clinging to your lips but he needs more. His cock is aching for more. So he sneaks his fingers under the lacy fabric and his fingers find your bare core, so warm and tempting he wants to die.
"Let me eat you out." he begs and even if his voice is collected, his eyes are yearning, because, god if he doesn't taste you right now he's going to cry. He can sense your uncertainty, wanting you to stop you from biting your lip the way you are and exchaning it with his own teeth. Wih his fingers still caressing your core, he tries again. "Please, _____. I need to eat you out. I swear I'll make it feel so good for you." he pecks your lips, enticing. "Need you against my mouth."
And it doesn't take much for you to say yes and for him to entangle his tongue again with yours before he's pushing himself off you and positioning his head between your legs. Pushing his messy hair out of the way and hiking your skirt until it's bunched over your waist, he growls at the sight of drenched lace, not being able to keep himself from licking his lips in anticipation. But then he looks at you, with the same hungry eyes but also the same reassuring look you've known for so long.
"If you want me to stop, just tell me, okay? Just want to try something and if you don't like it I'll just back off." he says, while his hands stroke your thighs up and down. When you nod, you swallow the lump in your throat and he inches forward to place a small peck on your covered core. It causes your body to jump a little and your heart to skip a beat. And then he's removing your underwear until you're completely exposed in front of him.
Jungkook sucks on a deep breath, mouth watering, cock strained uncomfortably in the confines of his jeans, allowing himself a minute to appreciate the view. Clearing his throat, his eyes find yours. "Gonna do it slow, alright?" and a hum is all he gets from you. He drops another kiss on your core, and another, and another, like he would with your lips. It makes your insides turn and a wave of pleasure wash over your whole body. But then, ever so slightly, his tongue darts between his lips to finally taste you and you can't help the gasp that leaves your mouth. "Fuck, so, so pretty..." Your fingers threading through his hair as he gets more daring, he himself humming compliments about how good you taste against your heat, content to finally having you spread open for him, small licks turning into long laps at your slit that have you bucking your hips and his hands pushing them back firmly into the mattress to keep you still.
And you had hated oral sex your entire life. Always deemed it as overly glorified for what it really was. But having Jungkook between your thighs and his skilled tongue making your thighs quiver makes the realization down on you that once again, not enjoying sex has never been your fault.
"Feels good like this, baby?" you can barely register his voice amongst the sounds of his tongue and your soft cries filling the room. Too deep into the feeling of his fingers digging in your thighs as he sucks your bud between his lips, more adventorous but still gentle. "Answer me, _____." Jungkook already started to lose himself the moment he got a first taste of you but he can feel himself going insane. Can't think straight with you trembling and moaning and pulling at his hair. He needs to see you helpless, needs to make a mess of you. Gathering a gobble of spit and letting it drop on your slit, his fingers rushing to spread it all over your lips and you nod your head, telling him how good it was, how it has never felt like this before.
Pride swelling in his chest and pushing his own desires aside to focus solely on you, he keeps talking, voice gruff and dominating. "Yeah? Like it dirty and filthy, huh? Like me eating you out and spitting in your pussy?" you manage a desperate 'yes’, tears prickling in your eyes as he does it once more.
Then he coats your slit one more time while his mouth’s still working wonders at your clit and it's the moment he inserts a finger without warning that has the band in your stomach snapping and your eyes closing so tight you see stars, hardly recognizing the animalistic cry that tears from your throat. Jungkook keeps lapping and sucking and fingering you until you're overly sensitive and it's becoming too much and then he's pulling away and placing a kiss on your thigh.
"So, I guess that meant you enjoyed it." such orgasm and Jungkook's cocky smirk don't leave your mind for the rest of the following week.
To say Jungkook was fucked was an understatement.
He knows this was a bad idea from day one. Knows he should've said no. Knows if Taehyung ever found out he'd break his jaw. Knows you're dangerous territory. Knows he's never considered himself as a weak individual but you're starting to make him question himself and his self restraint. But he didn't know how dangerous this would turn out to be until he kissed you for the first time, didn't know how addictive this would be until he felt you cum around his fingers. He's never been one to be attached. Jungkook has always enjoyed his freedom, has always enjoyed women and sex and never thought about risking his singlehood for a commitment. Never been interested.
But if there's anything more dangerous than you being his best friend's sister, it's the way his heart flutters whenever you're nearby, the way his stomach fills with a certain type of constraint and excitement every time your eyes meet from across the room, the way the temperature in his body rises whenever you share at complicit smile with each other. Because now he can't stop thinking about it, about you. About your lips, and your hair between his fingers as you suck his dick, your moans and sobs as he fingers you in the library and he's telling you to keep quiet, about your legs and the way they wrap around his waist when you're making out in his bed for hours.
But the worst part of it all was the feeling inside of him whenever you talked about him or whenever he saw you with him. He's even starting to feel nauseaus just by hearig you say his name.
Jungkook knows what you two were doing had nothing to do with himself. Knows he was just suppossed to be a helping hand, literally and figuratively. But he feels like everything is so unfair.
So unfair because the urge to touch you whenever you were around was becoming unbearable. The thought of kissing you, marking you, or holding your hand in front of everyone to see was starting to become suffocating. So unfair because he hasn't been with another girl that wasn't you since that night he finally agreed to all of this. So unfair that he doesn't even miss hooking up with other girls. So unfair that you're doing this for someone who's not him. So unfair because his heart wasn't suppossed to feel the way it did. It was never suppossed to go this far, and it was never suppossed to happen so fast.
So unfair he can't talk to anybody about this.
So he suppresses it all, hides it all under the rug, and puts on a smile on his face and just keeps going about his day like nothing's happening inside him. Like everything's okay. He suppresses it until he's alone with you. With you between his legs, your back against his chest and your legs spread, underwear lost somewhere on the floor and he's fucking you with your bullet vibrator. He's trying to hold back, trying not to take his frustration and anger out on you. He tries to be neutral. But he can't when the first thing that leaves your mouth as you let him into your room is how much fun you had with Lucas the day before. So he decides to punish you (and himself) by making you look straight into the TV screen playing reruns of a show he doesn't even remember while he moves the toy agonizingly inside the walls of your already dripping. He's losing in the feeling of you and the sounds your mouth. Holds your head with his own hand around your throat because he loves maneuvering you, loves to think about how good he would actually fuck you with his cock, how good he would put you in your place for putting him through so much crap. Tightenths the grip around your throat, careful, always careful not to hurt you as you cum, legs shaking and you crying for him (only him). He loves seeing you like this. Feeling you like this. Having you like this.
He loves, loves, loves, pretending you're his and nobody else's.
You liked Lucas. You really did.
Lucas was everything anyone could ask for. Made you laugh, made you smile, was considerate and rather good looking. Had nice hair and pretty eyes. But something was missing. Was smart and could hold long conversations full of different topics. Maybe the fact that even if you had been going on dates for almost two months, there was no spark. Maybe what was missing was lingering looks, or the pounding in your chest, or the fluttering of something inexplicable in your tummy. Maybe what was missing was the fact that he wasn't Jungkook.
Becuse there weren't enough words or metaphors in this world to even try to describe the way you felt. Suddenly, seeing Jungkook every Saturday was insufficient and saying good bye was almost heart wrenching. And you don't know when everything changed. You don't know when your text messages asking each other to 'come over' started to become so frequent, or when the kisses kept happening even without sexual activities involved. Or when the way he looked at you was starting to resemble the way you looked at him. Jungkook was everything you'd ever dreamed of. So it didn't take long for you accept what you were harboring inside as what it really was (although you weren't even sure what exactly it was) and deciding to just keep Lucas as a close friend with whom you geniunely enjoyed spending time with.
And then came the fear and the anxiety. The fear of telling Jungkook you had no interest in Lucas anymore. The fear of telling him you didn't want to (ever) stop whatever it was you had going on. The fear of opening up a part of you in hopes that he would reciprocate. But everytime you tried to speak, the lump in your throat was so unbearable. Because having Jungkook in front of you and about to lay all your cards on the table was like skydiving without knowing if your parachute would work correctly once you jumped. So instead you chose to kiss him back everytime, drowning in his scent and his touch and accept with open arms everything he would be willing to give you, because Jungkook always felt dazzling, always felt safe, always felt like coming home.
"Taehyung's visiting in a few days."
Those words had Jungkook having nightmares. Nights of deprived sleep and waking up covered in sweat. Those words had Jungkook fidgeting, whole body tensing and insides turning. Because there were many reasons why Taehyung had been Jungkook's best friend for as long as he could remember. The same stupid humor, same taste in music, same hobbies, the same political beliefs, the same ethics and morals, the trust and fidelity they had proved to each other throughout all those years. Innumerable reasons why they considered one another as brothers. But one of those reasons had been keeping Jungkook up all night:
Taehyung's ability to read him like an open book.
Sometimes it scared Jungkook how someone as aloof and trapped in his own little world of weed and Van Gogh the majority of the time like Taehyung could also be the most intuitive and perceptive person he's ever met. Especially when it came to Jungkook. Sometimes he wondered if he was just that transparent, but Taehyung had proved too many times to be more intelligent (and sometimes a little bit psychic, Jungkook thinks) than people thought him to be.
He'll know. He'll just know. One look into my eyes and he's gonna know I've been the unspeakable with his sister.
And fuck, if it wasn't stressing Jungkook out. You two had successfully managed to keep your arrangement from everybody else but he just knew, he knew Taehyung would find out.
So Jungkook came to a conclussion after giving it too much thought: he had to tell him. He had to be honest with him even if it that meant throwing their fifiteen year old friendship out the window. He knew keeping a secret from Taehyung and him finding out way later would make things worse and he had already fucked up too much to fuck it up some more.
So at Taehyung's arrival, he had waited. Had waited for you and your brother to catch up until he could be alone with him. He waited until the night before Taehyung took a plane back home. He invited him to his dorm to drink beer(Jungkook knew at least one of them had to be drunk for this conversation) and eat ramen cup noodles while they played videogames and prepared himself for the worst.
"Dude, you're all tense and stuff. What's up?" Taehyung said, mouthful of Doritos and fingers dusting the controller orange.
It took another beer and another bag of chips for Jungkook to finally speak. And he did, voice quivering, hands gripping his own controller for life while Taaehyung listened attentively without saying a word and when Jungkook finished, there was a taut silence for what seemed like an eternity.
"You... fucked my sister."
"Taehyung, I didn't exactly fu-"
"No, you didn't just fuck my sister. You've been continously fucking my sister, like- when was the last- you know what, don't even answer that. I obviously don't wanna know." Taehyung sat back, videogame long forgotten in the background and tongue poking his cheek, the veins on his neck visible and strained.
"Taehyung, listen. Please. I-"Jungkook took a deep sigh to try to articulate his words. "I know I fucked up. Big time. I know I've never fucked up before like this. But you need to understand this: what started out as... that, has escalated into something I wasn't expecting. I..." he run a hand through his hair in defeat. "I don't just like your sister, Taehyung. What I feel for her is... way more. Way, way more. I don't know if it's too soon to call it love, but that's all I can think about when I'm with her or when I think about her."
It took a while for Taehyung to take Jungkook's words in silently, before letting out a sigh.
"Then maybe you should tell her. She's been so disgustingly mushy mentioning you that it almost made me throw up and it was like so weird, but I guess it makes sense..." he mumbled and Jungkook's heart dropped. "If you hurt my sister, Jungkook, I swear to god-"
"I would never. Could never forgive myself if I did."
"Alright then...Right cheek or left cheek?"
The next time you see Jungkook, his eyebrow is split.
"What the fuck happened to you?" you gasp as he opens the door and you slide in instantly.
"Good evening to you too, _____. How was your day? Mine was fairly good, thank you for asking. Well, yes, of course, you may come in!" with sarcasm dripping from his tone, Jungkook tugs the hood of his sweatshirt over his head, suddenly feeling self consciouss and nerves putting him on edge.
"Seriously, what happened?" your voice now visibly concerned, you motion him to sit next to you on his bed, which he does like a trained dog because he really is dying to have you close and enjoying this as much as he could. When he sits down, you craddle his jaw in your hand, turning his face towards yours to take a look at the ugly (but kinda hot if you're being honest) bruise adorning his brow.
He licks his lips as he stares into your eyes, containing himself from connecting your lips with his and expecting you to kiss it better. God, he needs you to kiss it better so bad. Needs you to reassure him, and cuddle him and brush his hair with your fingers just the way he likes and tell him you're as crazy for him as he is for you.
This was it.
This was the moment where he would put his heart on a platter and serve it to you and he would either end up embarrasing himself and breaking his own heart or being the happiest boy on campus.
"I... spoke with Taehyung."
Your face pales immediately, and even if you already know where this is going and you're not liking it, you still ask:
You swallow the tight feeling tugging at your chest.
"What about us?" you daringly ask, again. Jungkook knows he has to pull himself together and finally act like a man.
"About what... we've been doing. About what I... About what I feel." you open your mouth to interrupt but he stops you with his hand. "No, let me just... Just let me... He wasn't happy about it, obviously. But after I explained to him how I felt, I think... I think he understands now. We just thought a punch was only fair. He was aiming for my cheek but Taehyung gets clumsy when he's a little tipsy so..." he knows he's going off topic and is starting to chicken out, but the small smile in your face makes him feel a little more settled.
"And how... How do you feel about... us?" you tentatively ask. You mimic his nervousness, about to pull your hand back but he keeps in in place on the side of his face, leaning into it.
"I feel... Like..." he exhales in frustration and damns himself for not being good with words. "Can I show you instead?" you're nodding anxiously and he's kissing you. He's kissing you and it's crazy how your body seems like to act like a magnet to his. How easily you mold against him, how you dissipate into each other and how you mirror the same sounds at the same time as if you can't ever get enough. He kisses you and lays you back, so delicate when his tongue starts playing with your tongue, and still so delicate when his hands run up and down your thighs. "I love kissing you. I love touching you." as he speaks and as his kisses become more fervent when you return them the same way, his hands pull at the hem of your shirt and pulls back ever so slightly to look into your eyes, questioning. You answer so fast, because there's nothing you enjoy more then Jungkook's hands all over you, and when he takes your shirt off, no bra to obstruct the full view, his eyes explore every inch of your skin like you're a mirage of some sort.
"I love looking at you. Fuck, you're so fucking beautiful. It's driving me crazy." Blushing, you giggle into his mouth but you're caught off guard when his hand wraps around one of your breats and fondles it carefully, thumb rubbing at your nipple before taking it into his mouth and you whimper. Your back arches off the bed as he chants 'mine",takes the other nipple in his mouth, none of your tits neglected. And when he grinds his hard on onto your drenched core while still mouthing at your breasts, you ask him for more.
"Jungkook, ung-please!" you sound pathetic but you're to consumed in all things Jungkook to care. He groans against your chest and then his hands are removing your leggings and your panties at the same time in a swift move. You ask him to take his on clothing off, and then to kiss you on the lips. He complies, desperate to finally feel your skin against his with no barrier in between. He's spreading your legs and lowering himself down until he's preparing your core for him with his tongue and spit.
"Love how dirty you get for me" he says, with his tongue drawing circles and his saliva coated fingers fucking into you making you clutch the sheets under the palms of your hands and gasping for air. "Fuck, always such a good girl for me."
"I need- ah! Jungkook!" you struggle to beg but you keep trying nontheless. "I need your cock, p-please! Need it inside so bad!"
That makes Jungkook's whole body stiff and fuck, if the sound of you pleading for his cock wasn't his favourite song. Lips still wet and not even bothering to clean them with the back of his hand, showering you with hungry kisses.
"We don't have to go all the way, you know that right? Just, shit, just having you like this, naked and so" he nips at your neck, this time not afraid suck and leave bruises on your porcelain skin "perfect... It's more than enough for me, like the world could end right now and-" you cut him off with another kiss.
"I'm ready. I've never been more ready in my entire life."
"Shit, okay, let me grab lube and a condom, I don't want to hurt you."
"Just grab the lube. I'm on the pill." you whisper and the sight of you, with your hair spread on his pillow like that, cheeks flushed and lips bruised plus the thought of fucking you raw have Jungkook's breathing hitching and a drop of his precum falling into your stomach.
With his dick lubed, he looks at you asking for a sign of unsureness, something to make him stop, because he would stop whenever you said so. He would do whatever you wanted him to do. Jungkook is sure he would wait his entire life for you. When all you give him is a smile, and a purposeful grind of your hips to make your slit come in contact with the tip of his cock, he gives in to you, slowly rubbing himself up and down your core.
"Spit on my pussy" your voice sends him to another planet and he tells himself to think about dead puppies if he doesn't wanna blow his load too quick. He does as you say because anyway he loves it fiflthy and he loves it even more if you're the one getting fiflthy with him.
Pushing the tip of the head torturously slow inside your walls, you whimper at the same time. "Fuck" is what leaves his mouth, and "more" is what leaves yours. You're ready and you don't care how much is going to hurt because all you need is to feel all of Jungkook's cock inside of you. So he fucks into you softly, no rush, justletting you adjust to his size, putting both hands beside your head and closing the gap between your bodies to feel all of you. Your legs wrap themselves around his tiny waist, inviting him in. Allowing himself to stretch you out nicely, slowly but surely while he kisses you, with such care and appreciation that it makes your eyes sting and tears threatening to spill out. It's uncomfortable just for a while, but soon the pleasure is taking over and Jungkook is rubbing circles on your nub, comforting you, encoraging you, telling you how 'good you're taking my cock, baby.' and how incredible you felt squeezing around him.
It doesn't take long for you to be more needy, to ask him to move faster, deeper and he still asks if you're sure because he's Jungkook and even if he's dying to pound into you he still needs to know you're feeling good. You shut him up with another roll of your hips and a whiny beg, and then he's picking up his speed.
"Jesus, I fucking love fucking you. You have no idea how you feel right now. Never felt like this." and the more he slides in and out of you you, the more the words seem to spill out. "Love having you just for me, love being the only one that has ever fucked this pussy before. I-fuck I need to be the only one that's ever going to fuck this pussy. No one else. J-just me. Love it. Love it so much." both your orgasms are approaching and Jungkook's rambling is about to send you over the edge, his cock sinking so deep in your cunt and hitting that spot only he knows. "W-wanna fuck you for the rest of my life. S-shit." your cunt is clenching around his cock in what you know is the beginning of your climax, your arms holdin on to him for dear life, but it's what he says next that has you crying out loud into the confines of his room. "L-love you. Fuck, I-love you, _____. I'm in love you with y-you."
It doesn't take much long for him to follow with the way you sound and the way your pussy is milking his cock, spilling inside and coating your walls with his release.
Jungkook forces himself to the side to stop from squashing you, both breathing heavily and spent up. He looks at you looking at him, and can't help himself from reaching out to tuck a strand of hair under your ear. With the little energy you have left, you lean in to peck the tip of his nose and then his lips. "I'm in love with you as well." you bite your lip and he can't contain the smile that is appearing on his face.
"Shit, thank God." he pulls you closer by the waist, needing to feel you closer once again to know you're real in case this is just a dream. "So...Um, Lucas?"
"There's no Lucas. Only Jungkook."
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Juul's junk science
Every time I write about vaping and the extraordinary lengths that the tobacco industry (epitomized by Juul, a sister company to Marlboro) has gone to in order to convince children to vape, I hear from people who tell me that vaping is safe, especially compared to smoking.
This month, I wrote “I Quit,” about my own smoking cessation, with some of Juul’s dirtiest tricks, including increasing the nicotine in its child-targeted fruit flavors and its fake “mental health seminars” in schools where they promote vaping.
One Juul trick I wasn’t aware of at the time? Faking the research on the safety of vaping.
In a just-published paper for BMJ Tobacco Control, a group of evidence-based medicine specialists document Juul’s safety research fraud.
The paper is paywalled, but they’ve also published a pre-press on Oxford’s research archive.
The authors document how Juul exhibits classic “reporting bias” in its safety research studies.
“Reporting bias” is when you researchers report on studies (or parts of studies) that support their employers’ commercial goals (or their own ideological ones), leaving out the results that are inconclusive or harmful to their cause.
Reporting bias was once endemic to pharma research, to the point where half of the human subject studies pharma companies started never reported in.
Imagine a study of coin-tosses where you only reported half the results — you could “prove” that coins always came up heads.
One of the most effective fighters against reporting bias is Ben Goldacre, whose 2012 book BAD PHARMA documented the practice — and its human cost — in eye-watering detail.
Goldacre went on to help found the Register of All Trials, where every pharma trial is pre-registered in a public repository, allowing regulators to disqualify drugs whose trials don’t report in.
Goldacre is a co-author on the Juul study.
The Register of All Trials model has been replicated around the world, including in the US, where the FDA maintains a similar repository. The researchers used this to locate trials registered by Juul Labs and then checked whether and how they’d reported in.
What they found was a classic case of reporting bias. Trials that measured five phenomena might only report back on one or two of them, which supported the safety of vaping (leaving us to assume that the remainder showed vaping to be dangerous).
And, of course, some trials didn’t report back at all.
This is deeply unethical.
For one thing, the trial subjects engaged in conduct potentially harmful to their own health in order to further science.
It’s bad enough if they were injured in these trials, but if the fact of their injury was suppressed in order to serve Juul’s profits, then they were harmed for nothing.
The tobacco industry has a long history of bad science, of faking the research on the way its products harm their customers. Juul tells us that its products are safe, but it suppresses significant amounts of its own research.
Not one of the Juul studies the researchers investigated had fully reported in.
Now, maybe Juul is keeping its research outcomes a secret because it knows we’ll be delighted with the results and it doesn’t want to spoil the surprise.
But I’m not betting on it.
William Warby (modified)
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something that really stuck with me during talks was Marisha saying that what happened to Beau with the Soul taking responsibility and apologizing to her is a fantasy never seen in stories for victims of abuse, because she’s a 100% right. In media, there are often 2 stories that are told (when the victim of abuse is the protagonist)
1. Society has failed the abused and it’s up to them to take matters into their own hands, often getting vengeance but rarely justice, if it isn’t a tragedy, where the protagonist doesn’t get either. Most often seen in movies as the short runtime and focus required fits the abuse as a whole plot. Ex you’ve been beaten by your husband constantly, but the cops won’t do anything because X, Y, or Z, so you need to take matters into your own hands learn karate and kick boxing to get strong on your own and beat your abuser to show you’re not weak. or increasingly common, the people in power know that you and others are being abused, but because of the abuser’s status it would reflect poorly on the establishment to punish them so they let it happen. (which it seemed the Soul was doing)
2. It’s something in the background that shapes the abused as a character and used as an explanation for how they are. Often times this leaves the abuser as a nonentity only existing in the backstory, and more often than not forgotten since the plot doesn’t revolve around them. maybe the Abused will get the chance to confront their abuser somewhere down the line when they’re facing their ghosts but a lot of the time it’s framed as letting the abuser go if the abused is stronger than they were, sometimes even forgiving them in some weird way for making the protagonist stronger in some twisted way. Ex you meet your parent who used to beat the crap out of you after school everyday to ‘toughen you up’ after years and after gaining super powers to fight monsters, you could crush them like a bug, but instead you forgive them, despite them not doing anything worth forgiving except maybe an apology, because their ‘tough love’ shaped you into the person you are today. Something I know at the very least have seen a hundred times
Beau’s story is the first story I’ve ever seen where society (the Cobalt Soul) acknowledges her trauma and the abuse she went through, even though it isn’t actually the Soul’s fault because it was Zeenoth specifically who took the money to kidnap her, Zeenoth is still a member of the Cobalt Soul and such had the power to kidnap her and make her protests disappear. Udalla Fon, the Head of the Wildemount archives, personally apologizes to Beau, they let her know that what happened to her was not the norm, nor was it acceptable, they inform her, that they’ve already brought Zeenoth into custody and he is awaiting trial. Beau didn’t have to do anything other than let it slip in passing during a moment of anger that she was kidnapped for money in front of Dairon, an expositor and someone who saw potential in Beau, and it was being taken care of.
It got to the point where Beau didn’t even seem to think of Zeenoth as someone who abused her, that he was just a teacher who was bad at teaching her personally and just another part of the establishment that she had to deal with if she wanted to stay an expositor. Instead of you know..., the guy who was bribed into kidnapping her from her family home. Marisha is right, I can’t think of a single story where society doesn’t fail a character when it comes to dealing with their abuser, yet here in a dnd show we see it and it is amazing. That for once an abused character doesn’t have to scrape and scrap to be treated like a human being and respected as such. Even better, they don’t even try to act like it’s for the greater good since Beau is an expositor in their ranks now so things worked out making it okay. No, they reflect on what happened and tell Beau sincerely, that while they appreciate her and are happy that she is an expositor, that in a kinder world they hope she would find her way to them willingly instead of being forced. There’s no, ‘well it sucked but it made you into the woman you are today so it makes it okay in the long run,’ from them, it’s, you deserved to make the choice yourself and we’d like to think that you would find your way here, but are sorry that you never had the choice to make.
The storyline almost comes out of nowhere because it was building in the background since Trostenwald, since episode 4 of the campaign. Beau got justice even though she didn’t have to seek it out and it was a delight to see
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viki & hickeys
the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)
SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.
WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries
MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide
RATING m (18+)
WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG
NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks
Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all.
There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms.
Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization.
“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”
Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”
The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him?
You’re not so sure.
It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows.
Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed.
“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”
You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”
She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”
At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did.
You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean.
“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?”
Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that.
Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin.
Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you.
So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes.
And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”
You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise.
Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well.
To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows.
Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments.
On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary.
(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)
“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight.
Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise.
“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”
You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s.
There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face.
Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.
“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth.
He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self.
But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first.
Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”
You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”
His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups.
“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.”
Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features.
Oh, you loved this man.
Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane.
He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway.
It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.
But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself?
One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on.
It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.”
“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car.
As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant.
It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you.
“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass.
The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass.
Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit.
As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks.
A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe.
Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear.
Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”
You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs.
“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck.
That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush.
Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.
You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river.
If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river.
“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”
He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”
You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!”
Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is.
“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.”
He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.”
“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song.
He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off.
Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign.
“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device.
It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen.
“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“
“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line.
“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?”
Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?”
You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.”
Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred?
He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend?
Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate.
Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell.
You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird!
Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at.
“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?”
A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words.
You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”
Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?”
Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.”
It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut.
He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead.
The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again.
“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account.
But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”
A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”
It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“
He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”
You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?”
Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”
You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now.
You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook.
Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“
He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.”
Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”
“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.”
Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms.
“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”
The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing.
There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes.
You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.”
Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”
You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”
“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”
The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”
Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat.
On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment.
Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”
You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze.
Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river.
“I thought he was cool before.”
He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you.
In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth.
You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor.
Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?”
You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?”
He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”
“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own.
Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.”
You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“
“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.”
His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling.
It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen.
Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud.
He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief.
Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship.
(It makes your heart ache at the realization.)
Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man.
(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot.
You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”
The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim.
But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either.
“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.”
“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”)
Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes.
The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.”
He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement.
“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”
He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.”
Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes.
It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself.
Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone.
He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura.
Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“
“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.”
He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end.
“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”
Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.”
You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly.
Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is.
“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”
Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead.
“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them.
Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”
“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.”
At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.”
You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr.
Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet.
Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again.
He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”
Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—
Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue.
You whimper. “That hurt.”
“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”
Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey.
Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see.
Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck.
You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss.
It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it.
And you’re all too ready to act on it.
Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy.
But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw.
“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare.
Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him.
The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds.
As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair.
Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips.
With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit.
Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders.
“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you.
He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull.
“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around.
“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you.
He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up.
The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view.
It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings.
“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you.
Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely.
His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise.
Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.
He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.
Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.
He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth.
The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness.
Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest.
Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor.
He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”
The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes.
Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air.
For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead.
He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”
You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions.
“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”
A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”
The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—
Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been.
He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table.
Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”
You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt.
Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”
It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again.
His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs.
Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”
And it’s true.
You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low.
You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.
Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”
Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you.
Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“
Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.
You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you.
He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix.
“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”
“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin.
It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction.
Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper.
“I kinda do—“
“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.
His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust.
“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”
You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly.
“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips.
“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface.
Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed.
“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy.
You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.
Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.
You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why.
It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home.
Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you.
You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad.
Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying.
“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses.
“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.
And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”
Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.
What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.
“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes.
(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)
Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside.
With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds.
“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly.
“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?”
You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”
Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder.
Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you.
“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit.
“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you.
You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different.
“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”
The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap.
Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out.
“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”
Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath.
“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds.
The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”
You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question.
Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.
“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.”
He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly.
“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”
You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.
That loud and airy one he reserves only for you.
Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic.
He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom.
Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet.
“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums.
“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“
“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?”
“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”
The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?”
There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you.
All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”
The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house.
You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise.
“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors.
“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.”
And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag.
“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”
Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.
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Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader
Rating: 18+ Explicit
Request: Mando rescues a girl and develops a life-ruining crush.
Warnings: Innocence kink. Age Gap. Smut. Screwing someone to get the other out of their head trope.
AN: This is a drabble for ze 500 followers celebration. Someone just asked for Din anything so I went with this. This is definitely a younger Din who is still a bit of an asshole. Also I low key love when the character has to fuck someone else to get the other one out of their head. To confirm, the reader is definitely of age just much younger.
“I don’t do rescue missions,” Mando grunts as he shuffles through the glinting blue pucks.
“It’s no different than hunting someone down,” Karga replies. “Just don’t kill her.”
“She’s a nobleman’s daughter,” Karga takes a long sip of his drink. “Kidnapped a week ago.”
“Why don’t they just pay the ransom?”
Karga frowns. “It seems like this was more in the vein of revenge. They haven’t made contact since they took her, which means this isn’t about credits.”
Mando stills, his fist clenching on the table top. “Do we have any leads?”
Karga’s lips twitch. “No. That’s why I’m asking you.”
Mando could curse himself. Karga had known exactly how to knead him, how to prod at his stupidly softening disposition. He had few weaknesses and one of them was a kid being potentially abused or hurt due to circumstances outside their control.
There were also a lot of credits on the line. An obscene amount. Enough to make full repairs to the Razor Crest.
Mando shifts in his seat. The Silent Sun cantina is packed to the brim. Loud music. Louder jeering. Purple-blue light that is near-blinding him to the point where he has to switch the vision on his helmet to something more subdued. He needs quiet. He needs stillness. He needs to hunt.
He’d managed to track you all the way to Coruscant where he’d beaten the shit out of enough lowly individuals to figure out that the Black Sun had taken you. He’d actually second-guessed himself when he heard that little piece of information. The Black Sun was nothing to underestimate, a criminal enterprise that had its claws sunk into every political party in the galaxy. Mando had even worked for them when they had needed muscle for a few rounds of smuggling trips.
As a young bounty hunter, the lines Mando had drawn in the sand had been far from rigid or clear. They blurred and blurred often when it came to credits. He had his Creed and his own set of rules, the moral standards outside of those rules really weren’t his problem.
Mando, by self-proclamation, had decided that he wasn’t a good person. He had done horrible things. Violent things. He had even enjoyed them. He supposes that saving a young girl could be one good mark against all that black.
He leans backward, stretching his arms out over the booth. The club goers had given him a wide berth when he had made his way through the room. He’s used to it, used to burning a hole through every space he stepped into. He isn’t even sure if it’s respect. Maybe fear? Those are two sides of the same coin, anyway.
At least, to him.
He watches the head of the group get up from his table. Vigo. A thin man with a skull-like face and hollowed cheekbones. Swept back silvery-blonde hair. Creepy, Mando thinks.
He trails his movements, takes note of the weapons on his person. He catches him patting his hip, fingers grasping at the hidden handle of a blaster. Mando knew they were keeping you, here, in the basement of the Silent Sun.
He’d just have to wait and follow.
He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t caught off guard the moment he laid eyes on you.
You weren’t a child. Young, but definitely not a child.
You’re tied to a chair, your arms restrained behind your back. Your dress is dirtied, torn and damp as your hair hangs limply around your face. Mando steps toward you, shoving one of his bloodied vibroblades into his belt. You lift your chin and he stops in his tracks.
You’re pretty. Not just pretty in the way, Mando would notice off-hand. Not simply attractive.
You are stunning. He is quite frankly stunned, which never happens to him because he’s a bounty hunter who has not once been disarmed by anyone - monsters included.
“Are you here to kill me?” you ask, resigned.
Your voice, the weariness trapped in it, shakes him awake.
He continues forward before dropping low so he can get a closer look at your face. You flinch away from him and he frowns. He had forgotten that you aren’t a bounty, you aren’t someone he’s going to toss into ice. You’re scared of him and a kind bedside manner isn’t in his wheelhouse.
You’re a fucking idiot, he thinks to himself.
“Not here to kill you,” he offers before he cautiously reaches out to you. You let him, leaning into his palm as he cradles your jaw so he can scan for injury. There’s a scabbed-over gash across your temple and a bruised lip. You’re no doubt dehydrated, but he doesn’t want to push his luck by man-handling you without permission.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” He moves behind you, cutting the wiry rope. You gasp when he releases your arms, kneading at your skinned wrists. He’s not about to pry into what you may have endured. The Black Sun is professional in some sects and horrific in others. He doesn’t know how deep your wounds might go and he stops himself from asking you outright. Mando, if anything, is excellent at self-control and fucking terrible at tact.
Your forehead wrinkles as you shake your head. “Is- are they dead?”
He nods. “I don’t think I left anyone ali-out.”
Something cold sears through your expression. Something shadowed and dangerous. It looks strange coming from the clear, sweetness of your face.
“Good,” you hiss.
It shouldn’t turn him on, but it does. Of course, it does. He swallows the unwelcome thoughts that come bursting through his thick skull. You’re a professional. She’s literally traumatized.
He gingerly lifts you up, letting you lean into him. “Sorry,” he mutters. “Beskar isn’t very comfortable.”
You shrug before presenting him with a devastating smile, a half-moon grin that shines bright against your bruised-red lips. It makes him ache. “Better than the chair,” you reply.
He forgets himself, nearly tripping over the dead body of the guard as he helps you back to the ship.
Mando knows that he is not in love.
He is infatuated. He is obsessed. He is harboring the most intense crush of his life.
The trip back to your home planet takes weeks and in those weeks you have managed to ease yourself inside his gut. You’re a young thing. You know little to nothing of the world outside your father’s house. He’s certain that your kidnapping has marked you permanently. It might never leave. The first true terror, the first dose of nightmarish reality, that had sought to scar you when you didn’t deserve it.
You tell him about your life at home, about your tutors and the few friends you’ve been able to make. You tell him how dull it all is and how this is the first time you’ve actually flown through the galaxy.
He studies your expression when you peer through the canopy of the cockpit. You suck a breath in when they swim through hyperspace, your eyes glistening with an unsaid emotion that makes Mando turn away.
“Do you think it’s wrong that I’m a little happy this all happened?”
Mando goes rigid, his hands clenching tight around the controllers. “I’m the last person you should ask when it comes to questions about wrong or right.”
You tilt your head before gripping his wrist, startling him. “I know you’re getting paid for this, but thank you. You saved me.”
After that, Mando takes every opportunity to point out planets to you. He even skips a few hyperspace pathways, decidedly opting to travel the long way back to your home.
He feels gross. He feels slightly perverted for wanting you so badly it hurts.
It’s not even about how lovely you are. You’re just kind in a very simple, straight-forward way. You make him want to protect you - save you - keep you to himself so that something like the Black Sun can never happen again.
He is close to losing his head.
You sleep in the tiny cot while he takes the chair in the cockpit. When you shower, he touches your sheets, lifting his helmet momentarily to smell them like a fucking akk dog. He strokes himself off in the fresher, shoving his brow against the slippery wall as he envisions you spread and open beneath him, taking his cock for the first time. He imagines licking your untouched pussy until your thighs shake, until you soak his chin so he can slip inside you more easily.
Just relax. Just let me make you feel good, pretty.
And all the while he thinks of your mouth parting as you sob: Mando.
Or maybe - fuck maybe - you say his own name. The real one.
It is too fucking much. He is lost to the point of distraction and he knows that he has to do something about it. When they stop to refuel, he tells you he’s going to get supplies and that he’ll be back as soon as possible.
You’re staring at him in a pleading way, your full lower lip sucked between your teeth as you longingly peer out at the bustling streets. Once again, he forgets himself as he cups your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his.
“This place is too dangerous for you,” His thumb brushes across your cheek and his stomach twists when your lashes flutter. “I swear I’ll show you around the next stop. It’ll be safer. More to see. This place is a shit hole.”
You soften. “Okay. I’ll wait here for you.”
For you. It hits him in the chest. For you.
He doesn’t know why he’s promising you anything. He doesn’t owe you shit beyond getting you back to your father. But there is guilt bubbling inside him. Guilt at the reason why he’s actually going into town.
It’s entirely because of you. He’s not ashamed to admit that truth to himself.
The brothel owner asks what he wants and he immediately says that he doesn’t care.
Then, he rethinks.
He requests someone with your hair color, your skin tone, anything close to the shape of you. It’s sick. He would actually die if you knew what he was doing.
You’re too fucking sweet for him. Pure and soft and generous and nothing that he’s used to. In terms of lovers, he has always opted for the wilder ones, the ones forged in some form of violence that matched his own. He wanted teeth and scratching and hands around his throat. He wanted pain.
No names necessary. Just open, wet tightness and someone screaming beneath him.
You deserved time. You deserved the kind of pleasure that brought tears to your eyes, that made you understand how damn good sex could be.
Mando steps into the cramped room. It smells like sweat and cloying lotion. The overwhelming aroma of red-wax candles and incense and herb-scented oil.
The girl in front of him could be you if he squinted...from thirty feet away.
It’s not like it matters. It doesn’t. This is literally stress-relief, a solution to the nagging problem of having you burning star-bright through his brain at all hours of the day and night.
“I’ve never had a Mandalorian before,” the girl husks and her voice is all wrong.
“Turn around,” he orders as he undoes his belt. He had to be back to you within the hour.
She slips onto the bed, getting on her hands and knees. “I want you to pretend for me,” Mando growls as he runs his gloved hand over her back, He’d be bare for you if he ever got the chance. He’d take you in the dark so he could touch you with his tongue and every part of him you had yet to know.
“Pretend I’m your first,” he grunts as he sweeps his leather-clad fingers through her folds.
It doesn’t work. He tries for a solid five minutes to handle the girl in front of him like she’s you. It’s impossible. First off, he’d never take your virginity from behind. He’d never just spit on his cock and bury himself inside you.
He’d get you ready, wedging himself between your thighs so he could make you cum in his mouth before gently nudging the head of his cock into the tight clutch of your pussy.
Secondly, he’d never fuck you in his full armor. He would never treat you to the sharp edges and Beskar and leather. He wants to give you softness, which is something that Mando has no experience with at all.
The girl tries. She shoves her face into her pillows, moaning about how she can’t fucking wait to take his huge cock before changing direction and sobbing about how terrified she is.
He definitely does not want that. If he fucked you, it would be on your own terms and it would be because you wanted it. If you told him you were scared, he’d stop and maybe buy you one of those honeyed rolls off a food cart and then worship you from afar until you’d like to try again.
Mando sighs before he just does it like he usually enjoys. He balls her hair into his fist so he can anchor her against him and then slides his cock to the hilt. It’s quick as he splits the girl apart with each harsh ram of his hips. She cries out, clinging desperately to the sheets as he angles himself down so he can thrust deep, hitting the soft, spongy center of her. He screws his eyes shut, letting himself go to sensation, enjoying the way the slick walls convulse around his pumping length. He thinks of you. He thinks of how molten you’d be, how wet you’d get for him. He reaches around to rub at her clit, pinching in time with each of his impatient strokes.
The girl screams and it ruins the fantasy, dousing him in cold water. He slams his palm over her mouth, dragging her body up so that her spine is curled against his cuirass. “Just - just be quiet,” he grits out as he grinds into her. “Fuck - just - just hold yourself like that.”
He rests his helmet against the back of her head as he jars her upward with each sharp snap of his hips. He tightens his hand on her waist, squeezing and kneading as her cunt spasms around him. There’s sweat pooling at his lower back. His throat is dry as the warm hit of his orgasm builds at the center of his belly. It rises, grows quick, and Mando thinks of you when he digs his nails into the girl’s shoulder to bring her roughly down onto his pulsing cock.
He pants your name as he cums, tugging himself out of her and rolling onto his back so he can jack himself off. The warm threads of his spend mark his gloves.
By the time he sits up, the fog of sex and fantasy fades to an unsettling blankness. As he stands, he is overcome with queasiness. He fumbles with his pants before storming out of the brothel. He can’t get his head on straight, his ears are buzzing with a faint ringing. He hadn’t even kissed that girl and yet he can taste her on his tongue. His limp cock is still damp between his legs. His cape is smoky with incense and the stench of wax.
When he arrives back at the ship, there’s no surprise that you’re waiting for him.
He tries to rush past you so that he can wash off what he’s done. There’s the sour rise of bile frothing at the back of his throat. He feels even worse when he sees your lovely eyes shining up at him, your comforting smile as you greet him at the door.
“Sorry,” he mutters. “I just need to get - “
You reach for him, your fingers locking around his wrist before he yanks it away. He’s dirty right now. He can’t have you touch him.
He gives you a sidelong glance and immediately regrets it. You’re frowning at him, obviously hurt.
“I just - I thought I could help organize the supplies you brought back.”
His stomach drops.
Fuck. Fucking shit. How fucking dumb could he be?
Of course, his hands are empty. He’d intended to grab medical supplies and food for their dinner and he’d just flat out forgotten after leaving the brothel. He stands there like an idiot, his helmet blankly pointed at you as you wrap your arms around your waist. It’s a defense mechanism. You do it when you’re uncomfortable or when you talk about anything upsetting.
He knows this because he knows you. He’s studied you. He’s made it his job to understand you and keep you happy.
You’re not an idiot, he watches you watch him. There’s perfume and sweat wafting off of his clothes and even though you’re not exactly well-versed in intimacy, it’s not difficult to parse where he’d been.
Your mouth parts, your eyes widening minutely. He steps toward you and you jerk away from him.
“Sorry,” you mumble as you hurry to the ladder. “I’m - I’ll be in the cockpit. Ready to leave when you are.”
And then you offer him the most heartbreakingly strained smile before disappearing to the second level.
He...he had just fucked himself. He had just hurt you quite spectacularly.
Mando rubs at his chest as he stumbles to the shower. He manages to hold himself together enough that he can get the door shut. His self-hatred escalates to a full explosion. When he shatters the mirror over the sink, the sound is muted beneath the heavy pelt of the water.
Probs will write a part deux to this bc obvs they gotta bang and Mando needs to redeem himself. LMK LOVES.
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since you’re named after one of them i thought maybe u would know: do you know of a post or other place i could get like, summaries of the various spn writers? Like that tell me the general vibes of their episodes? Or if you don’t know, maybe a follower does? Toatally cool if not, either way i love you and your fuxking galaxy brain okay bye
I don’t know if one exists but I’ll try to make you one right now that at least includes major players —
yockey: season 12-15. the man the myth the legend. real life confirmed gay. I could talk for hours about this dude. episodes generally full of gaycoding and also just fun concepts like a town where everyone is brainwashed to think they are in the 50s or a hunter funeral. not big on main plot because his little side quests are sexier. he did the reading! very strong callbacks to previous character beats from various seasons that makes you as a fan feel appreciated. “ouroboros” and “advanced thanatology” are personal favs but I really don’t think he has misses
edlund: 2-8. obsessed with this dude who also worked on firefly and angel (responsible for the episode where angel turns into a puppet) and created the tick as a teenager? mad creative. the original casgirl. meta and contemplative — he introduced a bunch of concepts into the show that are some of the most fertile stuff to piece apart (endverse! the ghostfacers! cas in biggerson’s in “the great escapist”! “the french mistake”!) he has two eps that he both wrote and directed and the stannies go crazy for it. “the man who would be king” EGOT
berens: 9-15. another gay person! the destiel understander. he got on the team and his first move was to lock misha in a supply closet and tell him they were gonna make the angel gay (presumably. this is just what I imagine happened). I also enjoy his dean writing! “red meat” “who we are” and “the trap” have some of my favorite moments. bad record with characters of color, particularly black women — responsible for killing off missouri and billie. there’s a big conversation to be had about “the raid” with a lot of moving parts as far as the show’s understanding of the morality of hunting, especially considering vamps are the most fraught monsters of the whole series as far as conversations around race and othering go. men of letters generally strike me as a very messy attempt at a critique of hunting as eugenics, but it’s supernatural so none of it really pans out in any sort of satisfying way, unless I guess you count dean ultimately getting killed by a vamp. bit tangential here I guess. gave us crowley doggy bondage :/
perez: 12-15. people say perez didn’t do the reading but I think he did about half the reading and then decided he was gonna pick and choose what he liked and didn’t like, as a true supernatural fan does. huge homage guy, wants you to pick out pop culture references in his work. BEST jack and best dadstiel moments. I’m a big “don’t go in the woods” enjoyer, and “american nightmare” is a late season samgirl classic, “gimme shelter” for the jack cas case! brought tentacles to supernatural :/
won: 11. she’s got three episodes and yet she left an indelible mark on my soul. THEE chitters for all your contemplative gay/bi dean needs around reconciling the trauma of your childhood with the potential for a happy ending where you can finally be yourself and at peace. “thin lizzie” not the strongest but it DOES have a very small finn wolfhard and “don’t you forget about me” has jody as alex and claire’s mom!! outstanding work miss won
gamble: 1-7. what is there to say about miss sera gamble. she’s a homophobe! she’s not like other girls because she’s hot AND a nerd! she’s got some really classic bangers (“dead in the water,” “faith,” “houses of the holy”) and is responsible for angles being dicks. also responsible for two gordon episodes, supernatural’s most disquieting statements on blackness and monstrosity. I don’t think showrunning after kripke was ever going to be an easy job, but she managed to cut her own work out for herself. bronly through and through. greatest influence split between godstiel and “it’s a terrible life”
thompson: 7-11. I fuck with this dude! he’s clearly like, a fan of things and did the reading. ultimate ally for goodbye thee stranger. I like to think he takes up edlund’s meta legacy — stepping on the scene with “slash fiction” is a bold choice, he’s a story deconstructor! “meta fiction”! “fan fiction”! “baby”! he’s in tune with what the fans are saying and trying to find a way to comment on it in the story without just dragging them through the mud. charlie is not my favorite lesbian rep but I like that this man decided gay people on supernatural could have like. lives (until buckleming offed her).
buckleming: “route 666″ plus 7-15. half of this writing pairing has a role on the staff because she’s married to robert singer. nepotism looking at this episode list kind of makes me want to break out in hives. it’s just clunky! the best moment here like dean‘a confessional in “paint it black” seem to happen completely on accident. responsible for both the racist truck and putting a black woman in a dog collar. killed kevin. killed charlie.
kripke: I guess he should be on the list. 1-5 with one episode in season 6. I mean it’s his show! and he’s. Like That (a man from ohio who went to usc). bangers for sure, it’s just the totality of him. I would pull out “devil’s trap” and laz rising as favorite credits
dabb: if I had to say nice things about dabb I would say that “lost and found” is one of the strongest season openers, “moriah” is a fantastic finale, “red meat” (collab with berens) is a perfect exploration of sam and dean’s toxic codependency, and “the prisoner” as a whole isn’t much to write home about but the FIGHT. I wouldn’t say this man is any more or less messy than eric kripke and they certainly agree on the finale.
carver: 3-5 8-11. like gamble a stronger writer than showrunner. “the rapture” and “free to be you and me” obvioulsy deserve recognition but he doesn’t compell me or really have anything significant to say on his own
there are other writers but without just combing through the wiki those are everyone who personally comes to mind and I know I’m missing some people here I don’t care for (charmelo and snyder lookin at you! glass too), but, I mean, you’ve seen the show. not always something to write home about. obviously this is highly biased (I feel like you can trace my enthusiasm at various points), but it’s my blog
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THE PLEASURE IN BUSINESS
SUMMARY: You’re an amateur pornstar and Harry, who’s a professional, requests a session with you
WARNINGS: 3.5K of Nasty smut [Unprotected sex, you should wrap it before you tap it! Spanking, fingering, cum play, spitting, a sir kink and a hint of oral]
PAIRINGS: Older Pornstar!Harry x Pornstar!reader (slight age gap)
I spent like the whole night on this fic so I’d appreciate some feedback and reblogs! Hope you all enjoy this, happy reading x
Now, growing up you would’ve never thought this would be your adult life; fucking on camera without a care, living the luxurious life in your dream city with your dream cars and being a well respected member of the adult film industry even though you were, well an amateur, with less than a years experience, you still defied the odds and made it. Which of course was very encouraging for the people that were currently finding themselves in the exact same position you were in just a few months ago.
The first time you had a shoot and showed this crazy, kinky side of you on a camera, infront of all types of people from the technicians to the photographers, you knew in that exact moment that there was no going back. No going back at all. This was your life now. As exhausting as it might be, you enjoyed it a lot. So you gave it your all, taking up any chance you could to make explicit films with different men and women in different locations so you could build your name and show that you were serious.
And obviously as expected all the dedication payed off, and now you were getting noticed by the very well known pornstars, the ones that everyone knew about and not going to lie, you definitely found it a bit scary and nerve wrecking.
“Hey, y/n are you listening?” Your manager spoke eyebrow raised, breaking you free from your thoughts with a click of his fingers infront of your face. You totally forgot you were in a meeting and like typical y/n, your mind drifted off, thinking about how far you had come and how life changed as quick as it did.
“Oh yeah, sorry. What were you saying again?” You cough, shaking your head and sitting up properly. You divert your attention to your manager, indicating that you were finally listening to whatever bullshit he had to say, like mentioned before, this industry could be exhausting and currently all you wanted to do was wrap things up and head home for the day.
“I asked, how do you feel about older men?” Your manager, Nick, asked repeating the question that you had missed.
“I’m sure they love her. Can imagine grandads jizzing to y/ns videos” your assistant spoke making you laugh and for Nick to roll his eyes.
“Not that old Nancy anyways, sweetie please can you answer. I might just fall asleep”
“I mean, they’re alright I guess. Why are you even asking me this again?” You shrug your shoulders and lean back into the hard chair you were seated in making Nick sigh from your antics.
Nick was a fun guy and helped you A LOT when it came to building your name. He was with you through it all and as much as you loved the guy, God he could be an annoying ass sometimes.
“Well, someone’s requested a session with you. He’s much older than anyone you’ve been with so I just wanted your opinion before we go through with it.” Nick explained, searching something up on his laptop
“Ok, I’ll think about it. Who is it anyways?” You ask, curiosity getting the best of you. Leaning forward again a gasp leaves your mouth once Nick turns his laptop to face you and low and behold there’s a picture of Harry freaking Styles on the screen.
Harry was one of the most well known pornstars out there, he actually cared about the women he fucked. Making sure they actually orgasm or squirt and not fake it by drinking loads of water before the shoot so they can “squirt” when in actuality it was just piss. Yes that happens, the porn industry was wild and most things were fake. It wasn’t really like that in amateur porn though, was more so in the actual professional ones. But you definitely did have your moments in which you had to fake an orgasm.
“B-but he’s a professional! Why’s he requested for me?” You stutter, looking at your manager and assistant frantically. Going crazy at the thought of fucking the Harry Styles. That was basically every persons goal in this industry and you didn’t even have to do anything in particular to have him calling for you.
“All I received was a phone call from his manager, Jeff. He said that Harry thinks your sweet and has seen some of your stuff, he thinks you have a lot of potential and could become the next biggest thing. So what you gonna do?” Nick asked, looking at you.
“Do it y/n. This would be great!” Your assistant, Nancy, spoke encouraging you on. She could tell you were stressing with the decision because damn, it was definitely a big decision to make. This could potentially make you even more bigger than you already were, were you ready for this just now? Who knows, all you knew was you wanted to fuck Harry.
“Fine. I’ll do it” and just like that the deal was finalised. Nick called up Jeff that very second and they decided shooting would begin the following Saturday which was only three days away.
Following up to the Saturday, your mind was everywhere. You shaved like four times, didn’t even masturbate or have sex with anyone else up until then so you could remain tight for Harry and even moisturised your skin like ten times a day. Nancy thought you were going crazy but she found it comical to say the least.
“Oh god y/n, you’ve officially gone mental” she says, coming up from behind you as she watched you put on another layer of moisturiser on your legs.
“Come on Nanc, you’d do the same thing if you were gonna fuck Harry bloody Styles” you deadpanned, smearing the lotion into your skin.
“Besides, I want to have a good impression on him” you continue, looking at Nancy through the mirror, she smiles at you as she takes a seat onto the seat next to where you were sat.
“Listen, I think you’ve already made a good impression on him, he’s requested for you after all” Nancy spoke. Well she was right after all, you’ve had nothing to worry about. It’ll all be fine. This was the pleasure in business, even if things don’t go as expected you’re sure you’ll have a good time with mr styles.
So when the day finally arrived and you showed up to where the shooting was going to take place, it was a beautiful condo in LA where the sun shone through the full length windows and lit up the entire place, it was beautiful to say the least, you were met by Nick and the filming crew. He held out some papers for you, which you knew were the script and smiled.
There was definitely a lot more people present at this shoot and your nerves spiked up again but when you felt a tap on your shoulder and were met by a soft familiar smile you’ve seen way too much on your laptop and phone, it’s like all nerves disappeared which was weird, very weird. But hey that was the charms of Harry Styles.
“Ah hey! I’m Harry, hope you’re ready for today. The scripts wild” he chuckled, sticking out his hand for you to shake which you do.
“I’m as ready as I can be mr styles” you reply with a smile on your face, trying to keep things professional, sending Harry into frenzy. What you didn’t know was that the main reason he requested a session with you was that he might’ve developed a little crush on you after stumbling upon a video of yours where you were getting fucked stupid over a table.
“Don’t be silly, call me Harry. Save the Mr styles for the shoot” he said, a smug grin on his perfectly chiselled face, although Harry was well into his forties, he looked as amazing as ever. The man was ageing like fine wine, it was as if the Gods sculptured him right then and there, that was how one would describe his features.
Harry sent you a wink and with that he was gone, allowing you to take some time to prepare before they’d get into recording the scene where he fucks you ontop of a counter in the modern marble cladded kitchen.
“Ok y/n, get this apron on. It’s all you’re going to wear and Harry you’re going to have to wear a suit. This scene is about a CEO coming home to his sweet maid. Are we ready?” Jeff asked, once you all had time to get ready and prepared. Everyone was stood in the kitchen as the lights and cameras were being put into place listening to the directions.
You nodded and took the apron out of the mans hands and Harry went to change into his suit. Once you were all set, Nick guided you to be stood by the counter, to show that you were “cooking” some food. This way, the first thing Harry, who’s obviously the CEO, sees when he walks into the condo is your bare ass.
After you had gotten into position, the director yells “start” and off you went, showcasing your acting. Now through the camera you couldn’t really tell anything was wrong, which was great because you had to keep things professional, but in reality you were practically shitting yourself, worried and nervous about how things would work out.
You started cutting up some fruit, following your script and humming along to some song when you heard the door open, the cold breeze hitting your ass making goosebumps to appear on your shaved and moisturised body.
A cough catches your attention and you turn around to see Harry, stood there wearing a black suit, looking exceptionally good. Harrys eyes meet yours, his pupils dilated showing that he was already turned on just by seeing your ass.
“This is a nice welcome” he breaks the silence, dropping the briefcase he had to carry onto the floor as he takes slow steps to reach you. The camera follows his every move but keeps a close watch on the bulge slowly starting to grow in his tight work pants.
“Is it, Mr Styles?” You ask, biting your lips and blinking your eyes in a flirty matter. Harry steps closer to you and turns you around, his hands finding their way to your ass, he squeezes down on it making you whine.
“Being a naughty little maid aren’t you? Not wearing any clothes under this skimpy apron of yours. Hmm, what shall I do to punish you?” Harry asks, his voice deep and full of lust, his hot breath hits your already sweating neck and it makes your shudder underneath his touch. The mics were placed right ontop of the two of you and caught onto every single breath you left.
“I’m sorry mr styles. Didn’t know you were going to come back so early” you repeat your lines, looking at the man with doe eyes as you brush your ass up against his bulge teasingly.
“Oh baby girl, you’re so in for it now” Harry growls and with that he’s pulling away from your ear and his big calloused hand is coming down hard at your ass. Spanking you with everything in him.
“Count them for me” he speaks, as his hand comes down to leave yet another hard spank onto your bottom making your skin heat up from the pressure.
“T-two” you cried and with that Harry leaves another spank “three” with each new number, the amount of spanks only increase and by the end of it you were left with a sore bottom and a very very wet pussy which the camera caught very clearly.
“Good girl. Now do you deserve my cock?” Harry asked you as he bent down to his knees, leaving a soft kiss to your hipbone whilst he worked on removing the knot you had that kept your apron on you. He quickly pulled it off, throwing the apron onto the floor.
You nodded your head frantically, immediately regretting it because it did seem a bit too desperate but hey, it’s porn. You’ve got to be desperate to produce good content.
“Yes mr styles. Please sir” you begged, and you could feel him smirk against your ass. He left one more kiss right where you were sore and got up from his knees quickly disregarding his pants and boxers, revealing to you and the camera his impressive cock.
There was a bulging vein that ran from the tip to the base and you knew you’d feel that once it’s deep inside of you, his bright red tip was oozing precum making you lick your lips wanting nothing more but to get onto your knees and suck him dry but that wasn’t in the script so you let him carry on.
“Because you took those spanks so well, I think you do deserve it. But first, I want to have a feel of this dripping cunt” Harry hummed making you smile but as soon as you felt his long fingers leave his cock to touch your dripping pussy, the smile faded away and a look of pure pleasure overtook your face instead. They drag along your slit making your head fall back and lips to part as a moan slips out.
His fingers weren’t even inside of you and yet they were making you feel so good, he expertly traced your folds with his knuckles before his fingers were landing at the bundle of nerves between your legs that sent you into frenzy. His fingers started rubbing tight circles right ontop of it and before you knew it, your legs were shaking but he only picked up the pace.
“Doing so good princess” he moaned, voice dripping with lust, this wasn’t in the script and you were expecting to have to re do the take but surprisingly the director didn’t speak up, as his fingers continued to trace over your swollen clit.
Harry finally pushes his index and middle finger into you, already feeling the clench of your tight and very wet walls against them as profanities escaped your mouth in whispers. The feeling of his fingers inside of you had your eyes rolling back and knees buckling, you push back against them trying to fuck yourself against his fingers and he grins, spanking your ass again as a way to say stop.
“Fuck, feels so good” you curse, forgetting for a second that this was all being recorded, as you feel Harry’s fingers fuck into you repeatedly. You squeeze down onto him as a way to tell him you’re going to cum making him lick his lips and curl his fingers. You feel the stretch and just like that you gave out, landing chest down onto the counter and your legs shake.
Harry only eggs you on, now thumbing your clit to give you the release that you were chasing and soon you’re squirting from the insane amount of pleasure he was giving you.
You’ve never managed to squirt this much before so it was safe to say you were spent but you still had the main part to come yet.
“Being such a good girl” Harry groaned watching and listening to your silk and wrecked pussy soak him, his hand lands down on your ass for one last spank and then he’s picking you up, placing you down onto the counter. He looks at you with hooded eyes, licking his lips like you were some 5 course meal.
You groan as the cold counter touches your burning ass but it’s soon forgotten about when Harry’s lips meet yours for the first time. It’s like a spark goes off inside of you and soon your tugging onto his hair, smashing your lips against his in a rough manner. Lust overtook you as your tongue explored Harry’s mouth, and he moaned against you, bucking his hips into your thigh.
The camera caught onto every groan, breath, profanity and moan you two left showcasing just how hot this scene was. You were sure this video would be played millions of times over.
Harry grabbed a hold of his cock and soon was pushing it in between your tight folds, you could feel the ridges and veins of his cocks perfectly with every inch you take of him. It was overwhelming, all you could feel and sense was Harry. You were intoxicated by him and you didn’t mind it one bit.
You were breathless by the time he finally bottomed out, your hands going from gripping his shirt to shoulders then finally resting at his hair, tugging and pulling at it as you saw stars from how good he was thrusting into you.
His thrusts and they deepened the more you became accustomed to his size. Harry couldn’t help but whimper at the feeling of your walls repeatedly clenching and unclenching around him, it was like he hasn’t fucked about a thousand girls before. This time just felt so different and amazing for him, he was honestly worried he might just cream himself right then and there, ruingjng the shoot.
Harry had set a good pace of relentlessly pounding into you, with each rut of his hips another whimper leaves your mouth. You were scared you might lose your voice by the time you were done but that thought leaves your mind instantly when Harry gives you a particularly rough thrust making you moan out louder than you ever have done before, he fights off the tightness of your walls and thrusts roughly into you again.
You’ve never been fucked this good, of course you’ve come across some good pornstars that we’re amazing at what they do, but no one could come as close to Harry. He was just off the scale amazing, making sure you get pleasured the correct way. You’ve barely known him an hour and yet he knows every one of your spots and what each of your moans mean. He was born to do this.
“Such a needy little slut for sir, yeah?” He asked, teeth clenched as he looked you right in the eyes, thrusting into you repeatedly. His fingers, that were previously resting on your hip, come down to your swollen clit again and he rubs tight circles on it, this time not stopping even when your hands going to push him away when the pleasure got a bit too much.
He was way too focused on getting you there and he did everything in his might to do so. Your body was going limp against Harry’s body whilst he continued to ram into you, you grabbed a hold of his shirt and sobbed into it as he hit a spongy spot deep within you that had your legs tightening around his body.
Your breathing began to rapidly increase as that familiar knot began to ravel within you. Harry only kept up with penetrating his thick cock deep within you making sure to keep on hitting that one spot and soon he also came with a cry.
Pulling out and spreading your legs up on top of the counter, showing the camera the creampie he had left inside of you. You squeeze the rest of his cum out as your head leans back against the cupboard of the kitchen you were currently in and Harry quickly dips down to lick your pussy clean, only coming back up to spit his cum into your mouth.
It was nasty, it was dirty and it was everything someone would want to see in a porno. Just like that you two seal the video with a hot and sexy kiss, where he lets you dominate.
“And cut” the director calls out, everyone cheers and they quickly throw you two some towels.
“That was fucking amazing, you did go off script though but damn are the viewers going to love this” Nick speaks, throwing a water bottle your way.
You quickly catch it and take a huge sip out of it as you look over at Harry doing the same thing with the bottle Jeff threw at him.
“Wow. That’s all I’ve got to say”
“You were one of my bests” Harry grins, getting cocky at your compliment.
“We definitely have to work together again” you say, not caring if you’re sounding desperate at all anymore.
“Well lucky for you, I’ve left my number in your bag. Call me” Harry says, a smug grin on his face making you nod your head and giggle.
“You’ve got this all planned”
“Sure do. Had it planned as soon as you agreed to do a session with me”
“Well I’ll definitely call you then”
“Good. Something tells me we’ll be seeing a lot of eachother in the future”
“That, I’m glad about”
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RYŌMEN SUKUNA || PROUD
| featuring : ryōmen sukuna from jujutsu kaisen
| warnings : grammar errors, swearing and mentions of injuries, blood and death.
| form : imagine
| word count : 1574
| published : 18 november
| request : Aaaa,, I really love your Sukuna imagines! Can I request an Imagine where it’s related to ‘kind hearted’, the reader gets hurt and sukuna gets upset? Thank you so much! Keep up with the great work!! 💞🦦
| barista’s notes : let me admit this, i’m not confident with this imagine ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ i tried changing it a few times but i was really doubting myself every time and this was the result of it, so i’m so sorry if you don’t like it ʕ； •`ᴥ•´ʔ also i’m not really good with fight scenes so if there are any advices that can be given to me, thank you so much ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ i hope you love your classic cup of black coffee and come again soon!
To say that you were screwed was more than an understatement.
Right now wasn’t the ideal situation to be in for any jujutsu sorcerer that wasn’t Gojo’s level.
At this moment and time, standing in front of you was a special grade curse.
What made the situation worse was that Kugisaki was separated from the whole group making the mission more complicated than it needed to be.
“Itadori! Fushiguro! Go find Kugisaki and find the exit to the building, I’ll keep the curse in place!” you demanded, as you knew you didn’t have much time to explain the risky plan you came up with.
“Are you crazy? It’s a special grade there is no way you could defeat it right now!” Fushiguro shouted, trying to know what was going on in your head, thinking that you were utterly crazy for what you just stated to him and his classmate.
“I don’t care! Look, it’s having fun and underestimating us meaning it will use weaker attacks on me, buying time shouldn’t be too hard, just give me a signal when you and Itadori are safe, okay?”
Looking at you with widen eyes, Fushiguro continued to look at you like you had gone completely insane before closing them to clear his mind. What you were saying had much sense in it. Compared to the remaining people in the room, you were the one that had the most potential to defeat the special grade curse if you could, even when you and him were both grade two sorcerers.
“Okay,” Fushiguro muttered quietly - still reluctant to leave you - before turning around and grabbing Itadori to go along with your plan, leaving you completely alone to defend yourself.
Turning back around to look at your opponent, you reached to the side of your hip to grip on the halt of your katana before slowly pulling the sword out from its sheath. From what you could observe, this special grade wasn’t a normal special grade, there was no way it could be deemed one yet it was. From what was going on around you, the curse hadn’t been able to construct a complete Domain Expansion, more of an Innate Domain at best making you come to the conclusion that it must have eaten a cursed object at best to become as powerful as it is - most likely Sukuna’s finger for one example.
Lifting your sword in front of you, you aimed the pointed tip at your opponent before tilting your head to the side to see what else you could observe from your distance.
“Would cutting your head off look best or would cutting both of your arms first be more sufficient?”
Of course, the curse couldn’t reply to you leaving it to only physically answered you with an immense amount of curse energy forming within the palm of its hand, ready to throw it at you.
“Looks like your arms are the first thing I gotta get rid of,” you answered yourself, as you quickly dodging the attack, only to suddenly appear in front of your opponent, leaving yourself enough space to swing your sword down to fully slash its left arm off as you then went ahead and spun behind its body to slice off the other off before pulling yourself back to gain some distance away from the curse.
However, what you had completely forgotten was that special grade curses were able their curse energy to heal themselves, as the curse’s arms suddenly regenerated as if you didn’t cut them off seconds before.
“Damn, I should have gotten your head first ha?” you rhetorically questioned, before using your free hand to pull a long black chain out of your pocket and attaching one end to the hilt of your katana. “Let’s see how fast you can catch,” you commented, as you then threw your katana while aiming for it’s head, using your curse energy to increase the speed it was going at. However, much to your dismay the curse unexpectantly grabbed onto the metal blade, leaving you no choice but to let your curse energy slowly flow through the chain all the way up to the blade causing a large red orb form at the end, quickly exploding before the curse could even react to stop it.
Swiftly, you pulled the chain back so you could retrieve your sword only to then suddenly see the smoke clearing and a large wave of curse energy coming towards your direction.
In sheer panic, you use your feet to push yourself to the right to move away from the blast before your whole vision was concealed by the rubble and dust.
Pain. That was all you felt. Pure pain.
Were you going to die? Wasn’t you expecting that once you told both your classmates to find Kugisaki and run? You couldn’t lie to yourself, it was too painful to think about death right now. You couldn’t think straight at all.
Once the smoked cleared, all that the special curse could see was your standing figure panting heavily with your left sleeve completely gone due to the blast as blood gushed down your left arm. You had barely managed to get yourself out of the hands of instant death and luckily nothing of your body was disintegrated, just some burns and cuts here and there - to say it was surprising to see you standing was an understatement.
“From our battle so far, you lack the form of curse technique, but you still can pack a punch, ah it hurts,”
The blood loss was getting to you. Yes, having no limbs was not the better option but you could still live with that. What humans couldn’t do was stay alive with no blood and here you were quickly losing your live source the flowed in your body. You couldn’t even cover the wound as there was nothing you could cover it with and even if you did, the wound was too large to be covered.
You were losing the strength to stand.
You were losing your balance.
You were losing consciousness.
Suddenly, you heard a loud sound of a howl from a distance. Instantly, you knew that Fushiguro and Itadori were able to find Kugisaki and get out. It was his signal.
However, you weren’t so lucky in that factor, from the state that you were in, there was no way in hell you were able to escape now - but you were okay with that. If the other’s were safe, that was better than not knowing if they made it out alive. Slowly, you were starting to lose the feeling in your legs, causing you to completely losing your balance.
‘Damn,’ you thought, as you felt your whole body suddenly dropping leaving you no strength left to even brace for the impact, leaving you to close your eyes and admitting defeat.
However, just as you were able to fall to the ground, you suddenly felt a pair of arms catching you before you were quickly lifted up bridal style and pulled into a warm embrace surprising you completely from the sudden comfort of what you thought was your lonely end. Who was still in the building? You thought everyone got out, so who was carrying you right now?
From your limited sight, you could slowly make out someone in a dark uniform similar to the colour you wore, meaning it had to be someone from the team. However, the extreme pressure of curse energy that was somewhat suffocating you determined otherwise - no one within the area right now had this much power, no one at all. Unless…..
“Were you the one that caused this?”
All you could hear right now a shaking tone as well as the couple droplets of water that was within the Innate Domain that surrounded you.
“For a grade two sorcerer, she really blew half of your body up with that little curse technique she used on you, I’m quite proud of my little one,” Sukuna uncharacteristically complimented you, as he gently pressed a little kiss on top of your head before gently smiling at you - knowing you won’t be able to see this rare expression on his face.
“You see, I’ve grown fond of this little human in my arms right now, and for you to do this much damage to her body, really weirdly angers me,” Sukuna stated before he turned around and began to walk away. “Wait there for a quick second would you? I need to take care of this one right now,” Sukuna commented, before gently placing you down at a safe spot to which he then started to use his curse energy to quickly heal your wound once he sat you up straight.
Brushing away some of the hairs that were in your face, Sukuna placed one last light lingering kiss on your forehead before saying, “I’m proud of you, just wait a little longer, I’ll be back,”.
What was going on?
This had to be a hallucination. There was no question about that. There was no way Sukuna could have saved you let alone kissed you in any way. This was all a hallucination. Wasn’t it?
However, you didn’t have the power to stay awake any longer, resulting you to surrender to the tiredness that was taking over you, letting the darkness invade your whole surroundings, but not before letting out a little mutter under your breath.
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A/N: It’s been ages since I’ve written anything, so I figured it was about time I got back into it! Hope you enjoy, any feedback is appreciated :)
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 2.7K
“What’s wrong with you, Pretty Boy?” Morgan questioned as Spencer rushed into the BAU Tuesday morning, fingers threading through his curls and a look of pure agitation gracing his features. As if he didn’t hear the question directed towards him, Spencer continued to storm through the room, nearly stumbling into Morgan in his quest to reach his desk.
Pupils dilating, Morgan looked towards JJ who had taken stock of the scene from her chair, brows already furrowed and legs moving to stand and head towards her fellow colleague.
Taking the lead, JJ swiftly headed to Spencer’s side, moving to place a hand on his shoulder before thinking better of it and placing both hands on the edge of his desk instead, Mama Bear instincts dialed all the way up. “Everything okay, Spence? You seem annoyed.”
Morgan scoffed before thinking better of it, “I’d say he’s a bit more than annoyed, JJ”. No sooner than the words had left his mouth he was given a swift elbow in his side from JJ and an eye roll from Spencer and all that was left for Morgan to do was raise his hands in defeat.
Sighing, Spencer turned back to his desk before mumbling a response back to them, “I’m fine, guys. I think I lost my copy of War and Peace on the Metro this morning. It was in my bag when I left my place, it must have fallen out when I was trying to grab my umbrella. I thought maybe I just forgot and left it here, but apparently not”.
“You and I both know you don’t forget anything, Pretty Boy,” Morgan chimed in, visibly less tense now that he knew there wasn’t any immediate danger.
“Actually Morgan that’s not entirely true. I have an eidetic memory which means-”
“There’s the Reid we all know and love,” JJ chuckled, heading back to her desk to get ready for the day ahead of them. Morgan followed, leaving the bullpen in search of Garcia and Spencer sighed, trying to move past the fact that one of his favorite books was no longer in his possession. Logically, he knew he could buy a replacement copy after work, but deep down he knew it wasn’t the same.
The words dancing across the page would be the same ones that brought him entertainment and the comfort found in familiarity throughout his life, but the book within his hands wouldn’t hold the same nostalgic memories. He wouldn’t look down at the tattered cover and reminisce on his first jet ride with the BAU, thinking back on how he brushed his fingers against the book’s familiar spine while trying to calm his stomach filled with nervous jitters at the prospect of working with unfamiliar people. He wouldn’t look at the dog-eared pages and remember how the words on those exact pages brought him comfort on nights he would escape to his bedroom and try to leave memories of aggressive classmates and whispering peers behind.
Any thought of potentially buying a new copy of the book after the workday was dispelled though as Garcia called everyone into the conference room to discuss a pending case in Phoenix, no sooner followed by a “wheels up in thirty” announcement from Hotch. Grabbing his go-bag and leaving the bullpen, Spencer filled his head with thoughts of the case, half of his brain racing ahead to connect victimology and significant locations while the other half was stuck repeating a never-ending mantra of “it’s just a book” in the back of his mind.
As Spencer was boarding a jet to head 468 miles north, Y/N was playing with a loose thread on her sweater, thinking about the long day of work ahead of her. Breaking her trance, she looked up and instead glanced up at the now empty row of seats in front of her. Her brows furrowed as she saw a book stuck in the crack between the far left seat cushion and the back of the chair, and before she knew it her curiosity overtook her. Y/N found herself standing from the seat, travel mug and bag in tow, before reaching for the dictionary-like book that was calling to her. The title War and Peace glared back at her, and a quick turn of the cover revealed faded words written in blue ink proclaiming that the book was the “Property of Spencer Reid”. With the announcement of her stop blaring over the loudspeaker and the weight of someone else’s book in their hand, Y/N made a split second decision to stuff the book into her bag, leaving the Metro with not only thoughts of the upcoming workday but visions of whom the mysterious Spencer Reid could be.
The workday passed by slowly, each passing second filled with the overwhelming desire to search for Spencer Reid on Google. By the time Y/N was on the Metro ride home, any and all motivation to search for the book’s rightful owner went out the door as her irritation grew with the rising heat of the increasingly packed subway car. Needing a distraction, her hand reached into her bag, initially moving for her cell phone but making a last second switch as her hand brushed the spine of the book. May as well spend my time doing something productive, she thought as she gently pulled the book out of it’s temporary home. With a final sigh, she turned to the first page and began to read.
As Y/N was tearing through the pages of War and Peace at an alarmingly quicker rate than she anticipated that night, Spencer was filling out a WMTA lost and found form in the hopes that someone had the decency to return his book. Knowing his luck, he assumed it was long gone and in the trash somewhere, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to make one last ditch effort at finding it. Groaning, Spencer called it a night and went to bed, silently vowing to find his book the second he stepped foot off the BAU jet again.
Six days later the BAU team landed in Quantico, making plans to head to a bar for a drink before a well deserved day off. As designated drivers were assigned and phone calls home were made Spencer gathered his things, making a beeline to the door in the hopes of reaching the WMTA’s designated lost and found area before it closed for the night. He was a foot away from the door before a soft hand grasped his wrist, immediately stopping him in his tracks.
“Skipping out on the bar tonight, Reid?” Emily questioned, head tilted as she noticed how frazzled her friend was.
“I’m just gonna go home and watch a bit of Dr.Who” Spencer began, desperately trying to think of something that would let him out the door without further questions. “Speaking of Dr. Who, did you know that it was originally created to be an educational show for kids? It’s actually really interesting-”
“Say no more, Dr. Reid,” Emily laughed, letting go of his wrist and heading back towards the others, “enjoy your night”. Spencer tightly smiled, leaving the bullpen and making his way to downtown DC in search of his book. An hour later and he wasn’t any closer to finding his book, ultimately giving up and heading to the bookstore to buy himself another copy.
It was at that same time JJ and Derek found themselves hysterically laughing at a corner booth in the bar, thinking about how Spencer probably missed out on meeting the love of his life that night- a woman sitting in the booth directly across from them, War and Peace open on the table in front of her and a pen and highlighter busy at work marking up post its that were being meticulously placed on the book’s pages.
A month and a half went by and Spencer had officially given up hope on finding his lost book. In the six weeks since he had last seen it he refrained from reading his new copy, not willing to give up the small amount of hope he had that he would be reunited with his original book. That evening though, as the Metro had yet another delay and the subway car continued to get hotter and hotter, he figured there was no better time than the present and pulled out his new copy of War and Peace. A few pages in, a sudden jolt of the car made him glance up and almost immediately he locked eyes with the woman across from him. In the span of ten seconds, his thoughts ranged from she’s beautiful to hold on- she’s holding my book and before his legs fully alerted his brain what was happening he found himself on his feet and sitting in the empty seat directly next to her.
As Spencer’s brain began to register just how bad of an idea it was to sit next to a stranger as abruptly as he just did, the woman next to him gripped her bag slightly tighter, tilting her head to the side as she peaked a look at the man next to her.
Her mouth opened to speak, but before she could do so Spencer interrupted her, desperately trying to save himself from any embarrassment her words could bring.
“That’s my book,” he bluntly stated, mentally hitting himself as he watched her adorably confused features morph into a look of defense.
“No.. that’s your book,” she pointed down to his lap, where his new copy of War and Peace was resting between his palms.
“No it’s not- well, it is but it isn’t really?” Spencer tried to explain, his face growing more and more red with each word that left his mouth.
“So it’s your book, but not your book?” She questioned, lips curling up into a slight smile as she witnessed the sweet agitation of the man in front of her.
“Yes! I lost my book on the metro almost two months ago. This is just my replacement copy, and I don’t know how I know, but I’m positive the book in your hands right now is the one that I lost.” Spencer finished his spiel, watching as the woman’s eyes widened in realization and her mouth formed an “o” shape.
“You’re Spencer Reid?” she asked, and now it was his turn to play the part of the confused companion.
“I- yes? But, how do you know my name?” As soon as the question left his mouth the image of the title page of his book filled his head and all too soon he was practically yelling with joy in the poor woman’s face. “Wait, that is my book then! Does it say Property of Spencer Reid on the cover page?”
The woman laughed, and Spencer watched as any traces of tension left her body. “I’m so sorry! I found it on the Metro on my way to work, and I meant to look you up- not in a creepy way,” she continued, growing more flustered with each passing second. “I was gonna try and find you to return it but then I started reading it and I liked it more than I thought I would and I just,” She stooped, taking a breath and giving him the most adorable set of puppy dog eyes he’s ever seen. “I’m just really sorry, I shouldn’t have held onto it as long as I did”. She finished, and held the book up, holding it out towards Spencer’s hands. “I think this belongs to you”.
“It’s not a problem at all, I promise,” Spencer reassured her with a warm smile on his face, “thanks for keeping it safe”. Something about her filled his stomach with joy, and as he looked at her he saw a similar smile mirrored back at him. It was at that moment he knew he would do anything to keep that look of happiness on her face, stranger or not. “You know what,” he continued, “you should keep it- finders keepers and all that”.
Y/N laughed in disbelief, immediately shaking her head and pushing the book closer to its rightful owner. “It’s bad enough I’ve had it this long,” she admitted. “It belongs with you”.
“At least take this one then?” Spencer’s brain continued to be a few steps ahead of him, and before he knew it he was taking the book in the stranger’s outstretched hands and placing his new copy in her grasp. “It looks like you still have a hundred pages or so left and I wouldn’t want to keep you from finishing it. Besides, I definitely don’t need two copies”.
The woman smiled and gave him an enthusiastic nod, and Spencer couldn’t help but think he just made the best decision of his life. The speaker above them announced the next stop, and with a sudden jump she left her seat, discarding the new book into her bag and turning towards Spencer on her way to the door. “Thanks, Spencer!” she exclaimed, “maybe I’ll see you around sometime”. Another smile was sent his way, and before he earned up the nerve to ask for her name she was gone, disappearing into a growing crowd of commuters desperate to get back to the comfort of their homes and begin the weekend ahead.
The following morning, Spencer found himself in his living room with a mug of coffee in his hand, completely lost in his thoughts. He was trying to calculate the chances of seeing the mystery woman again, considering it took six weeks after losing his book to see her for the first time at all.
He groaned, inwardly cursing himself for his lack of courage the day before and wishing he at least had a name to match to the face that wouldn’t leave his mind. As the coffee cooled, he found his gaze wandering to the coffee table where he had laid the book and his satchel the previous night. With a sigh, Spencer picked up the book only to notice a bright orange post-it sticking out of one of the pages.
“The strongest of all warriors are these two- time and patience” was written in loopy writing, highlighted in yellow with exactly twelve exclamation points in red ink under it. He was a man of science, but he couldn’t help but feel as though finding one of his favorite quotes from the novel staring up at him was a sign.
As he continued to skim the pages, he found note after note filled with quotes, reactions, and doodles and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of admiration for the stranger who put them all there. It was a book that held countless memories for Spencer, but already he could tell that this was going to be his ultimate favorite.
Backtracking to the front page, Spencer saw his familiar scrawl had been slightly covered by a light blue post it note. “If this book gets lost a second time I don’t want to make the same mistake as the first guy… please call Y/N at-” Spencer laughed, immediately grabbing his phone to dial the number before he has time to talk himself out of it.
As the phone began to ring, he thought about how he couldn’t picture her name being anything else. It was as beautiful as she was, and he longed to properly meet the woman who managed to get his heart racing with just a few post-it notes.
“Hello?” the voice on the other end of his phone answered, and Spencer could immediately tell it was the same woman from the subway.
“Hi, is this Y/N?” he began, fingers nervously twiddling together. At her hum of acknowledgement he continues, “This is Spencer, the guy who’s book you had? I was just looking through the post-its you left behind and I love the perspective you have on the book. Plus, it was so nice of you to even hold onto it in the first place so I was wondering if you’d wanna get coffee, maybe? So I can say thank you for everything and talk about the book with you?”
The opposite end of the phone was silent and Spencer’s face grew red, his hands moving to his hair because how could he possibly think she wanted to meet him, she didn’t even know him and-
“I was hoping you’d find that post-it note,” she giggled, and with the sound all of Spencer’s worries completely washed away. “Absolutely”.
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« Accidentally Lashing Out at Their S/O
genre: angst to fluff
- includes: Akaashi and Sakusa
“Keiji, please come to bed soon.”
The snipped reply had the beginnings of a swirl of anger within your stomach, causing you to puff out some hair in your eyes in slight annoyance. This had been a week long occurrence, and you feared Akaashi may faint from exhaustion from how heavy he took on his workloads every night.
“Y/N, please sleep. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Akaashi attempted to soften his tone, but an edge still remained that highlighted his irritability. You gnawed on your lower lip momentarily before taking a seat on the couch not too far away, reaching for your book.
“When you sleep, I’ll sleep.”
“Are you a child?”
You scoff through your nose, feeling an argument on the tip of your tongue depending on how you responded.
“I just care about you, you haven’t slept before three in the morning in days, my love-”
“Have you ever considered that maybe you being too overbearing is adding to my stress?” Akaashi’s voice raised the slightest in volume, making your chest sink at the rare circumstance you found yourself in. It was as if all the stress bubbling up in his stomach was beginning to simmer over.
“Maybe if you stopped and thought for a moment you would realize-”
You snapped your book shut. Akaashi’s pen stopped bleeding angrily onto the document as a silence of realization flooded the room.
“Good idea. Maybe I should think more, because right now, I’m realizing how much of a prick you’ve been to me when I’ve been nothing but patient.”
“I change my mind, don’t come to bed. Work yourself to the point until you pass out in that desk of yours.” Your tone didn’t waver, and you tried your best to appear unbothered-
but Akaashi heard it. Your voice crack.
You rushed out of the room before the blue-eyed boy could even rise from his desk, guilty apology in his throat. He sighed, following you into your shared bedroom as you continued your novel from within the sheets, seemingly unfazed save for your watery eyes.
“Love, please look at me.” He sat carefully on the edge of the bed as you turn another page in disinterest.
“Keiji, you know it hurts me when you aren’t healthy right? What if you get sick?” Your eyes didn’t look up from the ink on paper you weren’t paying attention to, but a tear slipped your eye. The defeated tone in your wavering words made Akaashi’s chest tighten even more.
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Let me sleep with you tonight?”
The novel now laid forgotten on your lap as you allow him to move closer to you, cupping your cheek carefully before pressing his forehead against yours. “I’m sorry for raising my voice. I’ll be better. You’re right, I’m way too exhausted-”
“Then let’s get you out of work clothes-” You unloosen his tie, using it to pull him into you to which he responds immediately. His breath fans your lips, blue eyes gazing into yours tiredly and lovingly before you kiss him quickly. “And into bed.”
He laughs once, soft smile gracing his handsome features before kissing your lips a second time.
“There’s nothing I’d like more, my love.”
“Go talk to him. It doesn’t matter to me.”
“Kiyoomi, please-” You followed your tall boyfriend with exasperation on your features, making sure not to trip on your dress.
“Did you forget who you came here with, Y/N?” Sakusa’s tone was coldly amused as your cheeks flood with heat with people beginning to stare.
“Let’s talk in private.”
Sakusa knew he should’ve listened. The rational part of him knew that he should’ve scanned the situation better, but that rational part was drowned out by the image of a flirty Atsumu talking you up near the open bar.
“Why? You don’t want everyone to know that my girlfriend was flirting with my teammate at Hinata’s sponsor’s event?” He scoffed, but Sakusa’s lips soon find themselves sealed tight at the sight of the tears welling up in your eyes.
You angrily wipe at them before trying to control your emotions. “You left me alone at a party where I hardly know anyone. You went to go talk to connections or whatever, making me feel like I was nothing but an accessory for you to bring. So excuse me if I found solace in a friend because my boyfriend abandoned me at a social event.”
Sakusa’s dark eyes widened a fraction before you brush past him, bumping him in the shoulder with your own to dash down the hallway as far as your heels would allow.
“Atsumu just wanted to make her feel comfortable.” Bokuto approaches his teammate, feeling guilty for having shown up a little late. “We were all going to hang around Y/N because this was her first event as your girlfriend.”
“And you shouldn’t have left her alone.” Atsumu mumbled, barely audible for the party guests who were beginning to lose interest in the sparked drama. Sakusa’s jaw clenched before he winced, remembering your hurt expression before sighing and turning on his heel. He would deal with the annoying blonde later.
He walked the same hallway you had ran down, feeling an unfamiliar emotion of guilt eat at his stomach. Was it because you were the first girl he opened his heart to? Was he really blinded by the anger of potentially losing you to someone who could make you laugh as easily as Atsumu did?
Sakusa stalled at the sight of your heels laying by the balcony doors. He pushed them easily, heels in hand, before finding you nursing the soles of your feet in your dramatic escapade.
The two of you stayed silent for awhile, the dark haired spiker kneeling down to your seated height before carefully picking up one of your sore feet.
“Kiyoomi, it’s not clean-”
“You’re hurt.” Was his curt reply before gently massaging it. You stare at your dark eyed boyfriend before your eyes begin to well up with tears again.
“No.” He cut you off, beginning to slip your shoe back on. “You did nothing wrong. I...I don’t know how to do this. Not with someone I love. I’m sorry if I made you feel as if you were nothing but a pretty accessory on my arm.”
“Although you are pretty-” He pulls down his mask and kisses your shin, causing heat to flood your cheeks. “You are so much more than that. I know I don’t say it often, but I hate seeing you cry. Especially if it’s by me. So teach me to love you properly, because I want to know how.”
Your smile was so gorgeous in the moonlight, Sakusa cleared his throat before blushing underneath his mask, busying himself with the straps of your heels.
“I love you, Kiyoomi.”
And then he couldn’t help himself, tugging his mask down a second time to capture your lips with his own, closing his eyes.
“You make my head spin, Y/N.” He whispers, causing you to shiver as his cold fingers touch the side of your neck.
“But I think I like it.”
Hey guys! I changed up the characters and I’m only writing for two because I’m easing back into writing normally. I’ve been on a break for awhile because there’s been some personal issues going on at home and in school. Thank you for reading regardless:)
General works: @takemetovalhalla @faesbae @savemesteeb @dreebbles @yams046 @let-me-have-my-own-name @deadontheinsidebut @lifeisntjustblackandwhite @curiouslilbeast @aprettyfruit @wisepandaslimeland @h0ngh0ngh0ng @lmkjimin @orangegiraffe7 @dai-tsukki-desu @kac-chowsballs @spikertrash @yamaguwuchi @lord-suneater-explosion @holaaaf @babyybokutoakaashi @lexysclubhouse @disneyloving-muggle @kuuuuroo @theonep1ece @that-chick212
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