Tumgir
#hmm another messy set
rngdshep · a month ago
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Mass Effect 2 Legendary Edition + New Armors for Femshep LE2 (mod)
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movedtomilksxda · a month ago
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:: lovely moments. Camilo
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── random camilo and his lovely s/o headcanons
── a/n: i blame school and music for this because my mind is like “please think of what to write…” and i havent wrote a lot of camilo stuff yk- SO THIS IS MY TIME TO DO SMTHNG ahem ahem dedicated to ahem ahem @camilosbf ahem ahem (っ^◡ ^)っ 💚
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꒰ᵕ̈꒱ camilo and his s/o will literally be the most chaotic couple power ever…like it adds up.
꒰ᵕ̈꒱ camilo would like to play pranks on them, but none of them are harmful and his s/o will join too.
꒰ᵕ̈꒱ hmm i can see camilo who’s love language is physical touch or word of affirmation. Like he wants to hear that he still can be useful even though he is a shape-shifter.
꒰ᵕ̈꒱ he loves it when his s/o hugs him by surprise because it’s cute and makes him smile. He will tease them non stop saying
꒰ᵕ̈꒱ “Miss me already? We’ve seen each other almost everyday.”
꒰ᵕ̈꒱ him and his s/o will constantly tease each other because it’s just how it is. But it is all worth it because of the creative nicknames.
꒰ᵕ̈꒱ camilo would give them flowers everyday whenever he sees them.
꒰ᵕ̈꒱ sometimes camilo would ask them for help, like his chores for example.
꒰ᵕ̈꒱ but sometimes it can get messy-
꒰ᵕ̈꒱ this is what they get for goofing around
꒰ᵕ̈꒱ his s/o knows how to get along with his family especially with maribel and dolores.
꒰ᵕ̈꒱ sometimes they would playfully say they prefer dolores over him.
꒰ᵕ̈꒱ he gets sad
꒰ᵕ̈꒱ “you know i’ll choose you all the way cariño.”
꒰ᵕ̈꒱ and this made his day because he knows that they will be there for him.
꒰ᵕ̈꒱ he admires how they take care of Antonio, whenever he sees them having so much fun he couldn’t help but join along.
꒰ᵕ̈꒱ everyone in the family will love his s/o because of the impact they put on camilo and how they love the way they interact with them. Even his parents.
꒰ᵕ̈꒱ camilo will always tell them how much they love them even if they were someone else. He is such a lovely boyfriend and him having a s/o who will always be there for him adds up to another sets of reason why he loves them smmmmm!
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angstama · 3 months ago
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fire | wakasa.i
pairing: wakasa imaushi x reader genre: angst warnings: heartbreak, rejection, unrequited love, emotional cheating ig? D:
✧. in which you were tired of setting yourself on fire just to warm wakasa imaushi.
a/n: this isn't proof read :< pls forgive me for the bad writing today.
[1] | [2] | [3]
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warmth.
your body felt warm and fuzzy when wakasa leaned in to gently kiss you on your lips, his thumb holding your chin down to keep you close to his face as if you'd even willingly pull yourself away from kissing the love of your life.
wakasa imaushi had always been the light in your life though he'd say otherwise, claiming you to be the one who lights up his path when the road gets too dark to move forward. the two of you had always been together through and through, it's no wonder that you had managed to convince yourself that you're each other's end game, that even if wakashi had never officially asked you to be his, you'll always give yourself wholeheartedly to the powerful kodo rengou's commander.
"focus on me will ya?" he pulls away slowly, bending down further to nuzzle his messy white hair into your neck. " you always have my attention waka." you chuckled softly, gently combing his hair through your fingers as you carefully placed your beloved sketchbook away.
you gently pushed his messy fringe away, revealing his droopy shaped eyes that's shut tiredly from the long day at the gang meeting. you couldn't help but to admire his facial features, eyes trailing down to his thin lips once again only to remember all the times he had kissed you so passionately.
"you stare too much y/n." he peeks an eye at you, causing your cheeks to heat up from being caught by your best friend. "well i haven't seen you in awhile now, i'm trying to take in as much as i can before you disappear on me again." you joked lightly, your finger tips tracing lightly on his bare neck and failing to catch the flicker of hesitance in wakasa's lilac orbs.
"hmm? sorry princess, been busy taking over gangs." he murmured, pressing another soft peck to your neck. you only hummed a response, fully understanding what wakasa meant and you honestly didn't mind as long as he came back to you at the end of the day although your heart longed to have him officially, you truly thought that once he had successfully taken over all of kanto, he'll finally be yours. so for now, you'll wait patiently and offer whatever you have for him.
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it was only a matter of time when you found out why wakashi had always drawn lines around you despite him often stepping over it and claiming your heart so easily.
the first snow had fallen and the bustling night life of japan came to live with couples arm in arm together strolling down the christmas decorated streets and admiring the beautiful festive lights.
"man how i wish waka is here..." you pouted, pushing through the crowd of people to get to the subway station when you saw a familiar white haired boy with a unique chained earring arms draped over the shoulder's of a certain girl waiting in line to enter a cafe.
there was no doubt that it was definitely the wakasa imaushi you know. the silver chained earring was enough to give it away after all, you were the one who made that earring from scratch for him.
"you sure you won't have any regrets?" you raised a brow at your best friend who simply nodded at you. "yeah, i trust you." wakasa gave you a tight lipped smile. you let out a sigh for the nth time as you nervously placing the small sized piercing gun against his earlobe and adjusting to the perfect position that you think it'd look just right on him.
wakasa only looked at you in amusement when he sees your trembling hands gently caressing his ear lobes with an alcohol swap before placing the piercing gun back at its previous position. never had he seen you so frantic and stressed out over something other than that one time he accidentally set your beloved dried flowers on fire after stumbling into your scented candle whilst being drunk one night.
"alright bad ass, take a deep breath." you muttered under your breath, eyes focused on the placement of the piercing gun when you felt his calloused hands wrapped around your wrist. "relax. you got this."
and it was under the warm touch of wakasa's that you confidently pulled the trigger, puncturing wakasa's earlobe with a pretty silver stud adorning his left ear.
"you did a good job princess." he cooed when you let out a triumph laugh, pulling your hand back only to realise that wakasa still had your wrist held firmly in his grip. wakasa also seemed to have realised it when he sees your wide eyes gazing on your wrist with blushed cheeks and a pursed lips. "o-oh! i made you this! i thought it might look really cool on you!" you turned towards your brown canvas bag, causing wakasa to reluctantly drop your wrist as you fished out for the silver earring you had spent the entire night making just for him.
wakasa carefully lifts up the lid, a soft smile etched on his lips when he saw what you handcrafted for him. "it isn't nice or whatsoev— ehhh?! waka!" your eyes widened when the lilac coloured eyed boy hastily removes the silver stud that's freshly pierced through his ear, tugging it out without a single whine from the slight pain and replacing the silver stud with the chained earring.
"do i look as cool as you pictured now?" he grinned widely, turning his head to flash you his handsome side profile as you smacked him hardly on his head. "dumbass! it's gonna get infected!" you groaned, knowing well enough from your multiple piercings that freshly new piercings should be left alone or else the consequences of living with a throbbing ear will be coming.
"doesn't matter. you made this for me so i have to wear it now." he shrugs.
you quietly took a step back when you saw his hands slowly trailing down her back before finally resting perfectly on her waist, pulling her close to his body while she leaned in to press a kiss on the very same lips that uttered those sweet words of "i love you"s when were held in his embrace.
you allowed your gaze to linger on the seemingly loving couple when you finally realised that wakasa had never truly loved you. hence why he had never asked you to be his. hence why he had never let you break down his walls even when you begged to collect his broken pieces.
so when you finally came to understand where you stand in wakasa imaushi's life, you let your feet take flight, rushing home to shut yourself away from the harsh reality that wakasa imaushi would never love you the way you loved him.
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cold.
you felt cold when you couldn't find any part of yourself left to comfort your broken heart. for so many times, you had set yourself on fire just to keep wakashi imaushi warm. it's unfair really when you try to think about the times wakasa had given himself to you and it hurts you to the very core that you weren't enough to keep him by your side.
you tiredly rubbed your temples in annoyance, eyes scanning on the half sketched drawing infant of you before hastily tearing it off from your sketchbook and scrunching up into a paper ball, throwing it at the far distance corner of your room which is slowly piling up with paper balls from your failed attempt of sketching what's on your mind.
as if you weren't already irritated enough, the doorbell suddenly rang to which you angrily slammed your pencil down to answer the door.
"god really hates me doesn't he?" you grumbled, swiftly unlocking your door only to be met with those warm lilac eyes that you fell in love with. your gaze soften when you saw the dried blood stained on his face with a busted lip. "hey princess," he smiled softly at you as if he hadn't just tore your heart into pieces a few days ago.
you could feel yourself crumbling even more as you quietly invited him into your living room where he soon envelopes you into a tight bear hug, resting his chin on your shoulder. your body stiffen at the sudden contact, strangely still feeling cold despite being in your lover's arms.
"i missed you so much." he whispered into your hair.
oh how you wished there were at least some truth in those words but you knew too well that it's all just a lie.
you gently pried yourself away from his grip, "sit there." you instructed, pointing at the couch before walking away to grab the first aid kid on the top shelf. you've been through this many times, often being the one to fix wakasa's wounds from the fights he led outside no matter the time of the day.
it's unfair. you want to scream at him. you want to push him away. yet how could you do that when he's sitting there staring at you with those eyes that seemed as though he's in love with you? as though you were the only one he sees in his eyes?
"turn here." you said calmly, tilting his chin left to take a better look at his busted lips. "princess is there something wrong?" he asked, concern laced in his voice when he realises that you were being awfully quiet throughout.
you were cold and distant, and he didn't like it one bit.
you hummed a response to him, eyes avoiding his piercing gaze on you for you didn't want to break down completely in front of him. you had burning questions but you were afraid of hearing his answers.
"talk to me hm princess?" he carefully places a hand on your cheek, forcing you to look him the eye and you finally let out a sigh. you were exhausted really.
loving wakasa imaushi was amazing and beautiful. but loving him was exhausting too and you wish to rest. you were tired of running in rounds.
"where do you see us in five years waka?" you tugged the sleeves of your hoodie tightly against your body, watching wakasa intensively as he scrambles to think about your sudden question.
"will you ever ask me to be yours?" you asked again when wakasa says nothing, adjusting his gaze on the blank wall behind you which gave the answer you were so afraid to confirm.
wakasa had never planned to have you in his future in the first place. he had never once yearned to have you as his. and he would never give up the world for you.
"i thought so." you chuckled bitterly, rubbing your eyes tiredly as you sat next to wakasa for the last time. "i hope you had fun playing me imaushi and i hope you'll love her enough to not treat her this way.
//end.
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nctsplug02 · 4 months ago
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hiii can you do a jaehyun version of this
please? it's so cute🥺
[9:20am]
genre: fluff and suggestive
a/n: this one is a bit different.
Jaehyun fusses around as he feels something smear on his face. “Hmm..” he hums, turning his head away. “Daddy, stop moving.” Jaehyun cracks an eye open and turns his head, his eyes meeting his daughters. “Good morning, daddy.” She giggles and hides the markers behind her back. “Good morning, princess.” He sighs and sits up.
“Mommy is making food, come on let’s go!” She tugs on his arms and slides herself off the bed. “Daddy’s coming, he’s coming.” He lets out a small throaty laugh before following his daughter out.
It smelt good, smelt like bacon and eggs. He was so grateful to have you there for him and his daughter.
“Smells good, baby.” You turned around heading tiny footsteps and your husbands voice. “Does it? Good morning, babies—, woah.” You burst into a fit of laughter after seeing your husbands face colored with all types of colors.
He frowns in confusion and your daughter snickers while hiding behind you. “What? Why are you laughing? Is it my hair?” He fixes his messy hair. “No—, it’s—,” a laugh breaks out from you again. “Whoo, okay, I’m sorry.” You calm yourself down and clear your throat.
“Turn around.” He obeys and turns around to the small mirror hanging on the wall. You laugh when he turns around with a shocked face. You could hear tiny giggles coming from behind you. You lift your daughter up as the both of you laugh.
“This is funny? Is this what you were doing while daddy was sleeping? Huh, SiSi?” Your daughter nods while jaehyun held his smile back. “I’m sure it’s washable, c’mere, lets see.” He walks over to the two of you and leans against the counter.
You sit your daughter next to him and then you grab a rag, wetting it and then using it to wash the marker off his face. “It’s washable so you’ll be fine.”
He looks over to his daughter and starts laughing. “You did this to daddy, baby. Look at my face, do I look pretty?” Your daughter laughs along and shakes her head. “You look like shrek, daddy!” Jaehyun scoffs making your daughter laugh even more.
“Daddy does look like shrek, doesn’t he?” She nods, covering her mouth. “Next time, color daddys face green.” You wink and jaehyun whines. “Stop giving her advices!” You pinch his cheek. “Siyoung, say sorry to daddy and then go play.”
The little one sighs. “I’m sorry, daddy.” Jaehyun nods and takes his daughter into his arms. “It’s okay, don’t do it again though. If you do, you’ll ruin daddys pretty face.” You laugh making jaehyun look at you with a tilted head. “Sorry.” You clear your throat. “Now, go play.” He sets his daughter down and she runs off into the living room.
“Ahh.. doesn’t she make you just want another one?” You ask turning the sink on and washing the rag. “If another ends up doing the same thing she does, then no.” You cackle, shaking your head and squeezing the rag dry. “But she’s so cute, her little dimples are too hard to resist.” Jaehyun smiles thinking about how cute his daughter was.
“Okay fine, maybe she does make me want another one.” He confesses. “Yeah? Maybe we should try for another one? A second little one running around?” You pause as you feel jaehyun slither his arms around your waist.
“Yeah, maybe we should… what do you say? Tonight?” You roll your eyes, tilting your head to the side giving him more access to your neck. “It won’t just happen in one night—, ahh—,” a quiet moan leaves you as he sucks and nips on your neck.
“We can just have someone pick up, SiSi.” He suggests rubbing your hips. “Who?” You breath out. “Mmm.. Mark? You know she loves her uncle Mark.” You nod, grinding your hips against him. “That’s my girl,” he holds your hips. “SiSi, you wanna go to uncle Marks?” The little one shouts out a ‘yes.’
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xogabbiexo · a month ago
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KITTEN LITTLE| Aizawa x chubby black reader
This is a part of my DADDY ZAWA one shot series. - this is just the background information to the plot of the one shots.So nothing spicy here just small details to know about y/n and how her and Aizawa encountered one another it’s super short .
Not-proof read yet don’t come for me.
Warning | MINORS DNI NSFW 18+ fowl language,this series will have smut
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Y/n moves to Japan, years after coming for an exchange program she enjoyed it so much she wanted to come back permanently with her best friend.
"Unique, you know  I just love when you yell at daddy" I flutter my lashes at my best friend as she scolds me for almost being late to work. "Your a pathetic horny bitch" she mumbles "hmm degradation kink, ACTIVATED" I smile at her as she rolls her eyes at me making me chuckle. The bell sounds, alerting us someone has entered I rush to the front to greet them. "Welcome to Kitten Little where Furry Felines are our friends." I smile when I notice a familiar face. "I remember you, Mr. Aizawa ?" The tall man had his dark lustrous tresses pulled back into a messy man bun. Which accentuates his handsome masculine features as well as the bags under his eyes - he is still a sleepy sal I see. He looks down at me perplexed. " Oh you probably don't remember me but I was in an exchange program a few years back." I shake my head. "Never mind, how can I help you today ?" He doesn't respond he just stares down at me. "Are you ok ?"
"Uh yes, do you offer memberships?" His monotone voice was deep and smooth "We do Paw Pals is our basic package, It comes with 1 monthly visit for grooming and 2 cat sitting dates. Whiskers and Tails is the premium package that comes 4 monthly grooming, 6 cat sitting dates, 1 bag of free food a month and discount towards any treats, at-home grooming maintenance, and so forth lastly we have Purr and Furr Our luxury package comes with everything in Whiskers and Tails rollover on the grooming applies in this package and additional 2 cat sitting dates and 2 additional free bags of food monthly also once a year we do a cheesy kitten calendar photoshoot if you would like a calendar of your kitty." I say nearly exasperated towards the end of the whole spiel."I'll take the luxury package." He says dipping in his pocket and pulling out his wallet. "Ok with tax the total is $278.64 a month is that ok" he gives me a stern nod. I get all his information for his membership pass before I swipe his card and hand it back along with his receipt. "This is your Kitten Kard, for points you'll also need that membership number on the back for our KITTY KARES APP, While you're here would you like to schedule the first grooming?"
"Sure, anything this Saturday" after discovering the 5 pm opening I schedule him. "You are all set, have a good day Mr.Aizawa." He walks toward the door before pushing it open he turn back to me " By the way, I do remember Thank you Y/n have a good night"
Damn that man is fine.
"Fucking Dilf" I hear from behind me interrupting my inappropriate thoughts, I turn to see Unique wiggling her brows. " Oh, what I would do just to be the hand he scratches his balls with" I grabbed my chest dramatically "Your one sick -" "I know you aren't kink-shaming me, miss anal assassin." We stare at each other before laughing in harmony.
***MINI TIME SKIP***
"Welcome to Kitten Litt, -" I smile seeing a handsome grimace " Hi Mr. Aizawa" he gives me a grumpy humph "Please I hear Mr.Aizawa all day at school" I smile " So what would you like for me to call you? Just Aizawa? Eraser Head ?" I point to my kitten ears "Master ?" I laugh at my terrible joke but stop when he doesn't even give me a chuckle. But his already dark eyes seem to shift into an abyss of onyx. "Shouta is fine." I nod "Sure, where's the kitty I'll be taking care of today." He walks out and comes back pretty quickly with a tan cage I hear little meows from inside. "I just got him, he seems a bit grumpy ."
"So he's like his new master great," I say peaking into the cage seeing the tiniest black kitten with white paws and green eyes "I see you still have that mouth ." He retorts glaring at me as I open the cage handling the precious furball with care. "It's only gotten worst, actually" I give a teasing smirk.
" What was your quirk again?"
He follows me as make my way through the double doors to the back with the kitten. "It's a shitty quirk wanna see? Give me your hand?"  He hesitantly puts his hands out for me to take.  I begin activating my quirk "It's called ecstasy, by touching people I can give them  feelings of excitement, happiness, and pleasure ... until they're  in a trance like a state some people even org-"
"Stop" Aizawa snatches his hand away and covers his semi growing hard-on I turn away giggling. "Usually the trance comes first, sorry"
I didn't mean to peak, I swear but it happened and shit I'm surprised mans isn't hunched over it looks HEAVY. "Don't fucking look at it" his guttural voice hisses at me, startling me into a screech. "Oh my god I'm so sorry" Embarrassed isn't the word when I feel how my face rapidly heats. "For such a flirt, You're easily embarrassed" He points out. I ignore him trying to calm myself as I through the motions of the grooming. This man is hot, smart, and packing, Dilf fucking dilf. "I'm not embarrassed Shouta, just surprised" he tilts his head as he ponders what I said as if it's complicated.
"Surprised you got me hard or that you liked it"
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justagirlsearchingforamuse · 8 months ago
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If you are still taking nsfw requests, could you please write Heisenburg having some 'alone time' with himself?
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"Hmm ... yeah this will have to work ... running out of options because of that stupid man Ethan Winters. The man is nothing but trouble. ... I was a fool to consider trying to work with the clown." Karl growled in a ragged breath, his hands were pressed into his messy cluttered desk and he stood slightly hunched over his desk with his eyes staring at the revised plan he had. He stared over the plan once more, he'd have to either get rid of Ethan or let him do all his dirty work and then finish him off once more. As he slumps into his chair, a heavy sigh leaves his lips at once and he takes his old tethered hat off, he's quite surprised he hasn't lost the beloved accessory. Sitting it down on his disorganized desk with papers, photos, and crumbled pieces of paper he lets a heavy breath leave his lips and tries to let peace rest in his old factory and within his soul. The sound of machinery working actively, metals bumping into other metals and the scent of dust and metal lays heavy in the air. He liked his factory. Just the way it was. Messy. Dirty. Dusty. He loved it, it was his own little home and his place to truly be himself and truly allowed to be vulnerable without the worry of being seen as weak. As inadequate, he runs his thick fingers through his straight dark grey hair, pushing some hair out of his face as he listens to the machines, the huffing, and the metals clanking together and it reminds me of something he's tried so damn hard to forget. You.
He enjoyed and relished being alone, he was in his element, he was allowed to be vulnerable but there was that soft aching in his soul that missed your soft humming or missed hearing you enter his factory. He missed the smell of you, it was warm and so heavenly to his nostrils, when you would bother trying to clean up his cluttered mess and he would try and excuse it. Try and get you to stop. Damn, did he miss you. He sits up straight in his chair, his finger rests upon his bottom lip as he forces and pushes thoughts of you out of his head, he can't bear to think about you, he can't bear to be weak again after what you did to him. "fuck" he mutters in a swift breath as his hands cover his face, he buries his face in his hands as he finds getting rid of you is like getting rid of gnats, nearly fucking impossible. He lets out an agitated sigh, nearly growling to himself before his eyes lay heavy on his desk, still cluttered and messy once again he decides to at least get rid of some of his failed plans. As he begins to grab at a few crumpled up paper balls, he suddenly stops and another sigh leaves his lips, he stops as rushed words leave his lips. "what the fuck am I doing?" he mutters as he began to try and put things back where they were, his hands moved too quickly and suddenly a photo falls onto the floor. It's a polaroid, he twists in his chair and picks up the photo and his eyes harden at the sight of what he tries and tried so desperately to forget. To leave behind. His eyes meet the sight of your face, you took what Americans call a "selfie", a short yet soft chuckle leaves his lips at your weird slang and your way with words was so unique. You smile warmly at the camera, a natural smile suits you perfectly and the light in your eyes, the natural warmth that flushed your skin, everything about you reminded him of what he lost. The family he lost. He missed what he used to once be, human. Humans have freedom, are free to be whoever and do whatever they want but a cruel bitch with selfish intentions and a knack for kidnapping took that away from him.
His face softens at your picture, he remembers your laughter echoing through the room so beautiful and unique to his ears, how you would sit on his lap and tease him with your smile, he remembers so much about you. He remembers you. He remembers the day you left, bitterness on your tongue, sharp anger in your veins and you left with horror, with tears and with nothing but pain striking your face. He hurt you. In return you left him, you left him all alone with nothing but his so-called "family". He wants to rip up your picture, burn it and spit on the image he once treasured so dearly but all he can do is look at what memory he has of you. "Damn, you don't know how much ... how much I miss you ..." Karl whispers, a deep frown curls onto his lips and he can memorize and almost catch your voice in his ears. His throat begins to get tight and his lips try to tremble and quiver before, he buries his teeth in his tongue and inhales a sharp breath to stop himself from being too ... open. He exhales slowly and sets your picture down on the desk once more, he slumps back in his chair, and memories of you circle and float around in his head. "Come on ... forget her, she fucking left you." He mutters and murmurs to himself in a whisper, sighing once again as his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, he keeps repeating "forget her, fuck her" almost like a mantra. But it doesn't fucking work. Especially when he finds himself pitching a tent, his pants become tighter and not as loose as he prefers them to be, he lets out a little more than agitated growl from his lips at the sight. Clicking his tongue, he decides that maybe he can turn this into just another jerk-off session that is nothing more than that, he sets your picture up on a coffee cup he has and lets it sit there right in view. His tongue swirls around his lips as he unzips his pants, he slips his hand in his boxers and lets his eyes rest as he wraps his hand around his firm thick semi-hard cock. He lightly squeezes at the organ, causing him to let out a swift breath at the sensation before leaning back just slightly more, grinding his teeth into his bottom lip he begins to gradually move his hand up and down his cock. "Damn ... kinda sensitive, huh?" Karl says in a slow ragged breath, his voice rumbles, and echoes through the factory.
He wants to rush into it, he wants to imagine you with your tongue down his throat, hands exploring his body and he could imagine your chuckles after he rips off your clothes. "Fuck ..." Karl whispers, his eyebrows furrow at images of you that flash in his mind, the things he's done to you, the sheer pleasure that he's given you has him squeezing his fully erect cock. His fingers travel to the head of his cock, he squeezes at the sensitive area causing a ragged deep growl to leave his parted lips, pleasure pulsates through him and leaves him almost like putty in his hand. He swallows thickly and inhales once again, his hand begins to slowly travel up and down his thick meaty cock that pulsates, eagerly. Heavy ragged breaths leave his lips, his eyes are closed, almost like he's relaxed and at ease with his hand shoved down his pants and his mind focused on the aching problem in between his thighs. When his hand travels to the head of his cock, his thumb moves in circles around the head, slow agonizing circles that leave him almost gasping for air at the throbbing sensations that travel through him. "Damn ..." Karl groans deeply, a ragged breath soon follows as he spreads his legs wider, his hand travels up and down his throbbing hard cock, heavy ragged breaths are all that leave his lips. "Shit ... shit ..." He breaths out heavily, he whines and it fills his throat and the factory he resides in, echoing heavily through the room before a deep breath leaves his lips. "Get the fuck outta the way," Karl whispers to himself, he pushes his pants down to his ankles and his cock isn't restrained by his pants, his hand moves to his cock once again and continues to gently stroke his throbbing cock that now leaks with precum. "Gah ..." Karl gasps, burying his teeth into his bottom lip as heat begins to flood into his being, his heart throbs and pulsates in his chest, and arousal pulses through him, leaving him aching for sweet release. Hot damn ...
"Yeah, remember how you used to just worship me ... do you remember how much of a masochist you were? That look on your face though ... whenever I had you tied up and at my mercy or ... whenever you needed to be punished ... oh damn ..." Karl rambles to himself, his words are slurred and his thoughts of full of nothing but you, he remembers how you used to tease him away from his work and how good you were at making him hard in mere moments. His cock pulsates in his hand at the thought of you and he decides to kick it up a notch, his hand begins to move at a slightly quicker pace as it travels up and down his throbbing meaty cock. His cock leaks with precum that travels down the head of his cock, his thumb quickly moves against the sensitive head, rubbing and massaging that sensitive area causing sharp waves of ecstasy to rush through him. He licks his lips and a wide toothy grin curls onto his lips, a light chuckle follows soon after as short and breathless moans leave his parted lips, the heat that was once warm gets hotter and it travels throughout his body. "Yeah, you remember that. You can't forget how good my cock felt down that tight throat of yours, how you savored my seed obediently ... haah ... damn." Karl rambles once more, imagining as though you were listening to him, what follows after his words are heavy breathless moans that are pried from his lips. He uses his other hand to clutch the chair's arms as his hand eagerly strokes and massages his cock aching in between his legs. "Ah ..." Karl moans deeply, a growl at the end of that moan as he can ecstasy pulsate through him, his body throbs with arousal and aching as he selfishly takes care of himself. He was getting close.
The heat that was hot as hell was now boiling inside of him, running his hands through his hair he wraps both of his hands around his cock, eager to taste his release quicker as his face twists at the waves and waves of ecstasy that travels through him. He clenches his teeth and his eyes are closed tightly, heavy ragged raspy breaths leave his lips followed by low growls of your name that he repeated like a mantra. "Oh, fuck ...! Oh, baby ... don't you miss me? Don't you miss how I used to fuck you ... nice and hard, all night fucking long and I still have your marks on my back." He rambles in a series of heavy breaths that clouded his throat, he begins to fist his cock swift and severely as sharp powerful waves of bliss washed over him in heavy waves of heat. "Oh, fuck! Shit! Oh, shit ...!, Baby, I want you so bad ... I want you here with me ... your lips wrapped around my cock or maybe you would want to ... want to be on your back like a dog. Eager for my cock, eager to get pounded into the mattress." Karl rambles once again, a smile is curled onto his lips as he is so eager to chase after a high, eager to chase after whatever he was deluding himself into that had him believing you were there. "Oh, shit! Goddamn ...!" Karl pants out, his breaths become raspy and sound like a growl at the end of each moan that falls from his lips. His throat is tight and struggling to keep oxygen in it, heat boils within him and he's just so enamored with the thought of you and you're not even there. Clenching his teeth, he begins to drive his hips into his tight fist, his hand swiftly stroking his throbbing hard cock as he throws his head back. Waves after waves of ecstasy travel and burst through him, the ecstasy is strong, merciless, and unforgiving and he fucking loves it so much. Oh, what you do to him ...
"Shit, baby ... I'm gonna ... I'm gonna come ... gonna come so fuckin' hard.  I love you ... I love you ..." Karl rambles out in heavy ragged breaths as he continues to vigorously fist his throbbing meaty cock, his breaths are caught in the middle of his throat and when it hits him his entire body disobeys him. His body jerks, almost jumps at the tides of bliss that flood through him and he reaches his boiling point, his stomach coils and he bites at his tongue enough to make himself bleed as thick ropes of semen land onto his shirt. "Fuck, (Y/N) ...! Oh ..." He whines deeply, his hand continues to vigorously stroke his cock, shorter ropes of cum spurt onto his shirt as he desperately tries to feel more. To see you again. He'll never admit that. Never let his mind admit because he's a stubborn bastard but there's that thought in his head, he was wondering if you would've said "I love you". He wondered if you would've just smiled at him and left him again, when he catches his breath a bitter taste hits his tongue, and memories of your time together hits him like a pile of bricks. Fuck, all he wanted was to forget you. Forget that you brought him up just to leave him when he needed you most. His eyes open and he inhales a shaky breath through his nostrils, pain weighed heavy on him and that's all he can think of. The pain. Your last words. The tears. He remembers you.
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odetojeons · 11 months ago
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Will You Punish Me If I Don’t? — Jeon Wonwoo
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request:  a lil drunk reader × possessive wonu angry sex pls
tags: fem and brat!reader, dom!wonwoo, edging, semi-public sex, angry sex, rough sex, oral sex (f receiving), a tiiiiiny bit of light degradation and spit kink, unprotected sex (stay safe), wall sex (oh yes you read that right), a whole lot of dirty talk, JEON WONWOO IN A CROP TOP BYE, established jeon wonwoo x reader
a/n: this took me a whole fucking day to write it 💀 i think my soul left my body on the meantime and now i’m just a spirit,, but i love this so much, pls, possessive wonu is one of the biggest moods ever 🥵 also i’m sure i made a lot of stupid grammar mistakes that i didn’t realize even after proof reading it, so you’re just gonna,, pretend you don’t see those :)) i hope you enjoy, i made this with all my heart JDJSJDJS
word count:  6244
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You know very well you’re being annoying and petty today.
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You both have been on this damn party for a while and you tried to get Wonwoo to leave and fuck you for at least five times now. You tried dirty dancing on the dance floor; nope. You tried sitting on his lap when he was talking to his friends; nope. You even tried to make out with him; but it only had lasted for a few minutes.
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It had you even more horny and angry. And that is never a good combination when it comes to you.
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But can people really blame you when Wonwoo is looking that good? You have been making a great amount of effort not to stare too much at Wonwoo’s abs peeking from his black cropped shirt, the sharpness of his V-line more visible than it should be legally allowed — it’s bad for your poor heart after all. But you do a poor job of hiding how the whole outfit affects you, because Wonwoo was looking and he had this known glint swimming inside his eyes and it’s got you licking your lips. 
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But still, he didn’t do anything.
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Well, not until you used your last resort.
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Your mind threw back to the memory of Wonwoo’s big hand resting on your inner thigh earlier when you were sitting in his lap, the veins in the back of his palm tracing a dirty path up to his forearms. And there’s always a strength, even a possessiveness in the way he holds you, his other hand squeezing a little hard against your waist, grip tightening every time someone stares at you for a second too long. There’s something so raw in the way he acts, like it’s almost unconscious, and it turns you on without a doubt.
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No matter how you looked at other people and tried to rile him up, Wonwoo still remained in his stupid composed behavior, this little acts being the only proof of his jealousy. 
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But not tonight. Tonight you were going to make him snap, no matter what. You were gonna make him fuck you rough and fast and give you as many orgasms as you wanted.
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Oh, but you were so wrong. Things totally backfired at you.
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You started by going into the dance floor again, after a few shots of some liquid courage. Swaying your hips at the beat, you tried your best to throw sultry looks at where he was sitting — manspreading, your brain unfortunately added, because he looked so hot doing that — in one of the sofas, eyes set on you like you’re the only thing that he could ever look at.
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You smirked, pleased with his reaction, before proceeding with your plan. Hands reaching forward, you touched the shoulder of the first guy you saw in front of you. It doesn’t take long for him to turn around and smile. He seemed genuinely nice, so you felt a little bad for using him to make your boyfriend jealous, but when you looked at him the guilt disappeared in two seconds.
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His head was hung low, eyebrows frown and fists clenched in where he supported his arms on the sofa. You winked at him and clearly saw how he seemed to almost visibly snarl at your teasing, knowing very well what was your intent with all of that; Wonwoo looked at you like he was about to consume you whole in front of everyone just to prove who you belonged to — and you felt your legs tremble at the idea of that.
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It was a game to see who would give in first; you to your frustration and horniness or Wonwoo to his possessives and jealousy. You couldn’t stop staring at him, the both of you shooting daggers into each other, especially when you turned your back to the guy and swayed your hips obscenely for him. 
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But it was when he put his hand on your waist and glued his lips to your ear that things started taking a turn of events; in the next second, Wonwoo was standing right beside you. The air grew thicker quickly, and your breath was knocked out of you at the sight of your — very pissed off and very hot — boyfriend looking down at you. 
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“What do you think you’re doing?” Wonwoo’s voice had rang through your ears, loud enough to make you mewl softly even through all the music going on in the background.
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“Dancing?” you asked with fake innocence, batting your eyelashes at him. Wonwoo groaned, grabbing your wrist.
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“Um,” the guy from before started. “I think I should be going now?”
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He waited for an answer, but you and Wonwoo were too busy looking at each other intensively to even care, so he cleared his throat and left.
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“Let’s go,” he stated simply, pulling at you through the crowd so you both could go outside. You giggle a little when you trip on your foot, a bit tipsy with the shots you took.
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And that’s how you find yourself currently being guided until you were both right in front of his car. Your mouth opens, ready to make a clever comment that would surely rile him up and give in to what you want, before he turns around and gets all over your personal space, so suddenly that the words get stuck in your throat. The scent of his cedarwood cologne invades your lungs, sending your mind into a little haze.
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“What were you thinking, letting another man touch you?” Wonwoo says, voice rough and firm, lips pressed into a thin line like he was still holding something back.
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And you don’t want him to.
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“You took too long, and I have needs,” you retort, stepping up into his space too, not wanting to back down even when the sight of Wonwoo’s dark, dark eyes bleeding with lust made a very noticeable shiver run down your spine.
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“What kind of need would even make you want to rub yourself all over someone else that—” he stops himself, closing his mouth before groaning, annoyed. You smirk at him, knowing what he was going to say.
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All over someone else that isn’t me.
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“Hmm, let me see,” you giggle, face centimeters apart from his, your breaths mingling with each other. “A need to get fucked hard, for starters.”
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The intensity of his gaze growing exponentially dark wipes the smile off your face in seconds. You try not to gulp when he scoffs, taking one messy step back when he takes one further.
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“So that’s what this is about?” Wonwoo questions, tone suddenly mean and sarcastic, and there’s heat licking and pooling at your lower belly faster than you expected. His deep voice never fails to leave you trembling. “You’re so desperate to get railed that you couldn’t even wait to get home before throwing yourself at some random dude.”
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Your cheeks tint red in shame and arousal, realizing this wasn’t a question. It was an affirmation, like he knows exactly how horny you are, and you try to remain composed. You are not going to give up until he loses it.
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“Maybe,” you say, a single finger trailing through his torso distractingly, and you don’t even try to hide your hunger when you look at his abs peeking from behind his cropped. Wonwoo’s face hardens at that, and you smile internally in victory. “Why? Are you jealous, baby?”
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He laughs, throwing his head back, but it only serves to make you even more satisfied. That’s exactly the reaction you expected him to have.
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“You’re drunk,” Wonwoo answers instead, and you think it’s endearing how he denies so hard that he’s not possessive.
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“Nope,” you press your finger in his chest again, but he doesn’t even buge from the place. Fuck, that’s hot, you think, licking your lips and watching Wonwoo’s eyes zeroing in the action. “A little bit tipsy? Yes. But drunk? Not at all.”
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Suddenly, you back away, trying to ignore the way your body protests against the lack of warmth, the lack of Wonwoo.
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“So if you’re not jealous, then you wouldn’t mind me getting off with someone else, right?” you trail off, feeling proud of yourself when he looks at you like you just made something emerge from the ground with psychic powers.
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“What?” he asks, tone furious, and you jump a little in place with the intensity of it, but soon recovers with a pout.
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“I mean,” you start, acting like you’re not saying the biggest stupid thing you could ever think of saying, shrugging at him. Of course it was all a lie, there’s no way you’ll ever want someone else other than Wonwoo. “You’re always telling me to wait and wait and wait, so if you’re not that jealous, then maybe I should get someone else to fuck me when you can’t.”
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Wonwoo moves so fast your brain takes a time to understand what he just did; in a second you were standing with your glorious bratty attitude, the next you were pushed against the car, one hand squeezing your jaw tight in place and the other holding your wrists behind your back. His bigger and broader body pins yours against the door, and you have a hard time breathing now.
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Now that’s a way to sober up.
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“No,” he grits out, sounding more like a growl than an actual word. Your heart is hammering like crazy against your chest, and you gasp softly when he pushes your jaw backwards until the back of your head hits the car, neck exposed for him. “No one should be allowed to touch you like this. No one but me. No one.”
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Then Wonwoo bites the juncture of your neck and shoulder, so hard you think the mark is gonna be there for days. You moan at that, hips kicking and shocking with Wonwoo’s.
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“You know nobody could fuck you like I do,” he says, sounding smug but also dead serious, and this cocky side of his during such moments never fails to make you wet.
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You inhale, reuniting the fight there’s still in you. To be honest the only thing that makes you still retort back is the alcohol. It gives you a special ability of not being able to shut up.
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“I guess someone else will have to fuck me so I can believe you.”
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You watch his demeanor change instantly at that; shoulders tensing, jaw clenching and predatory eyes — Wonwoo kisses the breath out of you. He sucks at your body lip, licking at the seam of your mouth, and you gasp, mouth parting and his tongue slides against yours. There’s a hot flash rushing all over you as your body pulses with want; Wonwoo has always been a great kisser, capable of surrendering you putty in his hands.
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He kisses you again and again and again, as if someone might take you away. He kisses you like he wants to carve his identity in your soul. He kisses you so messy and hungry that your teeth actually clack and the sounds of your lips dragging roughly and tongues rubbing against each other fills the air around you.
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Wonwoo can probably taste the alcohol, if the way he moans is anything to go by.
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It is dirty, lewd and so fucking hot you feel the fight leaving your body momentarily along with your breath, lungs burning with the lack of oxygen. There are a few tears gathering in the corner of your eyes, and you don’t even realize their presence, but then, and only then, Wonwoo pulls away. He bites at your lower lip one more time, a lewd string of saliva connecting your mouths for a short while before it breaks.
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“Seems like you suddenly forgot who’s name you scream when you’re getting railed,” Wonwoo tells you, voice poisonous and labored breath caressing the skin of your neck. “Should I remind you?”
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“Y-yes,” you moan out, enjoying the proposal, but it only serves to make Wonwoo scoff.
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“I think you need to learn how to respect me first,” he says instead, and there’s butterflies swarming together in your belly, chest still heaving for air.
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“Will you punish me if I don’t?” you retort, staring him right back in the eyes.
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Wonwoo growls.
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“You better shut the fuck up before I make you regret,” he says, and you feel a shiver rocking so bad on your body that your hips collide into Wonwoo’s, his half hard cock pressing against your stomach. The feeling makes you moan.
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“Why would I?” you ask, trembling voice giving away how much this all affects you. “I want this.”
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There’s a bit of silence before you continue.
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“Make me regret.”
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“Fuck,” Wonwoo groans, biting on your neck again, this time so far up that you won’t be able to hide it that easily. “So needy you can’t even think about anything else other than having a cock drilling into you.”
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Wonwoo kisses your moan away, sucks at your bottom lip until it’s swollen. Then, he puts three fingers in your mouth, like he’s telling you to shut up.
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Wonwoo turns his head to look down at your shuddering frame trapped between the side of the car and him. You don’t look up, too focused on sucking at his long fingers, but when Wonwoo starts to move his arm that was occupied by your mouth, you stir, and look up to meet his eyes.
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They’re dark, with a glint in them you could only recognize as devious and wicked and so so so mean. It’s the same glint he gets when he’s about to deal out a punishment, or tease you enough that you believe it’s a punishment. It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand, and a bead of sweat drips from your eyebrow. You wonder what you’ve got yourself in for the night when you both get home.
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As if on cue, answering your arousal hazed thoughts, the hand that was slowly doing a dangerous path down your body settles itself on the front of your pants. It’s heavy on your clit, and you can feel Wonwoo digging his fingers into your entrance. You barely have the sense to react, and even if you could, you reminded yourself you weren’t home yet. Wonwoo now has his hand groping your pussy in public.
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Your face flushes a dark red at the realization, feeling humiliated and embarrassed under Wonwoo’s grip. If someone were to see, they’d get arrested for sure. Wonwoo’s hand has a strong grip on your clit, fingers quickly slipping past the thick fabric of your denim jeans and lace panties so he could press the pad of it against your naked and wet folds.
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You whine quietly, and now that the hold on your jaw has been set loose, you nestle your face further into the crook of Wonwoo’s neck. With a grip on Wonwoo’s jacket, you feel him angling his head so it rests against the top of your head.
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“Wait, f-fuck, someone might see us!” you whisper-yell at him, but Wonwoo only hums and steps in closer. Your chests are flush together and he towers over your frame easily enough to hide you between him and the car. “Wonwoo—”
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Your sentence gets interrupted by your own moan when he presses a finger inside of you. You quiver, legs trembling, and you let the realization that Wonwoo is about to finger you publicly sink into your stomach. You know that the streets are deserted and there’s not one single soul around there since it’s so late, but the thought of it still has you gasping.
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“Wait? But weren’t you the one complaining about me making you wait all the time?” Wonwoo bites back, tone mean and unforgiving when he fucks his finger inside of you. He sounds almost angry and it’s making you so damn horny. “Earlier you were looking at me with such a hunger. I bet you were thinking about me fucking you in front of everyone, weren’t you, baby?”
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You moan because yes, that was exactly what you were thinking. His hand lets go of your wrists when he adds another finger inside of you. It burns a little, you think, but enjoys the pain as your arms fly up to circle around his neck and pull him closer. Wonwoo goes easily, mouth finding yours and fingers fucking inside you in a way that has you squirming.
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He soon gives attention to your neck, kissing all over it before sucking a wet blotch against the skin right underneath your jaw. Wonwoo pulls away, looking at it for a while like it gives him some sort of feral satisfaction to see you bearing one of his marks.
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“Wonwoo, I’m n-not—” your words break off into a whine, struggling to form sentences. “Not— g-gonna be able to hide the, ah, hickey i-if you suck it that far up.”
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“Good,” Wonwoo says, and his mouth finds your neck. You scratch his scalp when he sucks again, this time harder, his arm coming to help you up when your legs give in. “Want everyone to know you’re mine. Only mine to fuck, to breed, to love, to cherish, to make you my little slut.”
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You throw your head, back arching off of the car and mouth opening to let a high pitched moan scape you. Wonwoo then adds another finger, the third one, and gyrates them so hard inside you you actually feel like you’re seeing stars, figuratively and realistically — the night sky above you is adorned with a few of them.
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“Acting like a brat and riling me up like that, this is what you wanted, isn’t that right, princess?” Wonwoo spits out, lips pressed into a thin line as if he’s getting more and more angry at his own words. “If I didn’t stop you right there, would you have continued dancing with that dude, huh? Would you maybe have made out with him?”
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You try to answer, maybe tease him back again, but you can’t even form a coercive sentence. The only thing you can do is hold onto Wonwoo like your life depends on it as he fucks you furiously with his fingers, and take whatever he’s willing to give it to you. 
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“Do you think he could finger you like this?” Wonwoo says poisonously, hand squeezing at your ass hard enough that you think it’s gonna leave the print of his fingers. “Think he would have a bigger cock than mine?”
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He ruts against you as if to prove his point, hard and so fucking big it has you breathless. You know how your boyfriend is well-endowed, know he could make you feel him for days after a good fuck and your mouth salivates. Wonwoo presses the pad of his fingers in your sweet spot, jamming against it without pulling out with quick movements, and you feel like you’re going insane.
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“Since you put a lot of effort into being a fucking brat today, I will give you what you want, sweetheart,” Wonwoo laughs a little, almost as if he’s mocking you, and your whole face burns in pleasurable humiliation. “I’m gonna be rough. I’m gonna fuck you hard and fast against every surface of our house, gonna make you scream my name so everyone knows you belong to me, gonna use you, make you my little ragdoll and dump you full of my cum until you’re all heavy and swollen with it.”
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“Wonwoo— your f-fuck, fucking dirty mouth, ah—” you thrash in his grip, nestling your face further into his neck and he knew, he knew all along what was your intention with the way you were acting, and you hold tight on his hair, hearing him growl when you pull at it. “I’m gonna come. Gonna cum s-so fucking hard, fuck—”
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“I’ll make it hurt,” Wonwoo warns, his lips ghosting at the shell of your ear and hot breath tickling your sensitive skin, brings goosebumps all over it. “But I’ll make it feel good.”
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The pleasure builds quickly and you throw your head back with a loud moan, orgasm almost hitting you like a train.
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But then, everything stops. Wonwoo pulls away, fingers slipping out of you and he wipes them in his jeans. He then goes through his pocket and grabs the car keys, the familiar beep sound echoing through the empty streets when he clicks a button on the key chain, and it’s got you completely dumbfounded.
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“Come on, get in the car, baby,” Wonwoo states simply, like he didn’t just make the best orgasm of your life ebb away. Frustration sinks deep within your bones and you groan, turning to look at him like he just committed a war crime.
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“Why did you— why did you stop?” you question, heart almost jumping out of your chest and you feel like you’re going to actually die if you don’t get to come soon. “I was just there!”
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“Oh, sweetheart,” Wonwoo coos at you like he finds what you just said endearing. Face flushing dark red, you get completely embarrassed with how quick he makes you feel small. “You thought I was going to make you cum?”
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Wonwoo comes closer, holds your chin softly, a total contrast to what he says then.
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“Poor baby, I’m actually going to do the exact opposite.” he pecks your lips once. “Gonna edge you until you cry.”
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He goes around the car and opens the door for you.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀
“Now get in, baby. Don’t make me repeat myself,” Wonwoo says, tone leaving no room for arguments, and you gulp before obeying.
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Wonwoo closes the door for you when you finish settling yourself inside, and goes to the driver’s seat. You watch him turn the car on as you put your seatbelt, whining when your cunt throbs in need. When he starts driving you try your best to move as quietly as you can, squirming a little until you can smooth your fingers through your clit. You gyrate them once, pleasure swarming all over your body, before Wonwoo’s voice wakes you up from your short haze.
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“No touching yourself,” he admonishes with a tsk and you groan, frustrated. He’s still looking at the road and you don’t even know how he managed to figure it out that you were touching yourself.
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Staring out of the window, your thighs rub together every time the car shakes a little. Your mind supplies unnecessary images of your boyfriend fucking you, and you curse a little. Even trying to imagine disgusting things wouldn’t delete Wonwoo’s words from earlier out of your head, and you’re getting more and more excited by the second.
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“Wonwon…” you sigh, almost a whisper, hips moving in the air and hands coming to grab at one of your breasts. You smirk, content when you hear him growl.
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“I said not to touch yourself,” Wonwoo’s knuckles turn white with how hard he grips the steering wheel. “Should I tie you up in our bed and leave you untouched or are you going to start obeying me?”
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“But you’re not doing anything,” you whine, wanting nothing else then to come.
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“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” Wonwoo says, voice low and dead serious.
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“I don’t think you know either.”
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The car comes to a complete stop right after you say that. You gulp, realizing Wonwoo has already parked in your private garage. He gets out of the car and goes to your side, opening the door, still in complete silence.
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“Turn this way,” he orders, voice one octave lower, and you gasp at the roughness of it. “Now.”
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You spring into action, take your seatbelt off, doing as you’re told, and as soon as you finish turning to him with your legs outside of the car, he gets on his knees.
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“W-Wonwoo,” it’s the only thing you manage to say as you watch him work with your pants after taking your shoes off. He ends up popping the button off but you don’t have it in you to complain, not when he’s looking like that. 
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Wonwoo finishes taking your jeans off, throwing somewhere in the garage, and then he grabs at both sides of the collar of your shirt. You frown, confused with the action, but then his hands are pulling, and he rips it in half.
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“Wonwoo,” you moan, beyond turned on as he does the same to your penties. Your clothes are torn apart but you can’t think of anything else other than fuck me fuck me fuck me. “I—”
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Wonwoo kisses you shut, lips dragging hard against yours, and you feel his hands at your thighs before he pulls at them enough so that you slip on your seat. He uses the grip to open your legs for him, not even giving you a break to understand what’s going on before sucking on your clit hard.
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Your back arches, hands scrambling to hold on something — one of them finds the steering wheel and the other finds the wadding of the seat, body thrashing everywhere before Wonwoo pins your hips down in place — knows better than to shove his face in your cunt as you originally wanted to do.
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He licks between your folds one, two, three times; the tip of his tongue prods inside your already loose entrance, and fuck if you didn’t moan, high pitched and greedy for more. Wonwoo inserts more of it until his nose is pressed against your clit, doing a sound in the back of his throat that sends just right. The wetness of his tongue feels so good pressing against your cores and kicking at your soft folds.
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“W-Wonwoo, fuck— f-feels so good—” Wonwoo thrusts his tongue inside you, and you feel like you’re seeing stars, especially when he presses just right. “Ah! Shit, your f-fucking tongue—”
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Wonwoo has to hold you down tighter, your body unable to stay put as you thrash around. You feel tempted to think how your neighbors could probably hear you, but your boyfriend is sucking the life out of you through your pussy and you can’t concentrate well enough to elaborate the thought.
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It’s when Wonwoo curls his tongue just right that has you thinking you would ascend to heaven soon. 
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“Fuck! I, ah— Wanna cum, Wonwon, I’m coming, please— let me cum this time,” you manage to get out, writhing and legs kicking everywhere. “Please!”
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But, of course Wonwoo, being the little shit he is, pulls away. Tears gather in your eyes as you groan out of frustration, and Wonwoo is just so mean.
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“Shit—” you cry out, watching his shit eating grin. You hate but love at the same time the way he’s absolutely enjoying seeing you so desperate for a release. “Y-you’re so mean.”
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“Are you gonna stop being a brat now?” Wonwoo raises a brow at you, licking his lips. You shiver, knowing that he’s tasting you by the pleased hum he makes after.
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“Fuck you,” you spit it out, too horny and angry to care.
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“Is that so?” he hums, looking at you as if you’re his prey, to which you’re starting to believe you actually are. “Maybe I should put a gag in this dirty little mouth of yours.”
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Wonwoo traces a thumb in your lower lip like he’s considering the thought.
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“But I think I’m just gonna fuck that attitude out of you.”
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You can’t even bring yourself to enjoy the comment before he pulls on your wrist so hard you get up from the seat, body colliding into his. Wonwoo’s mouth finds yours, the kiss messy and hungry and angry, to the point it makes your legs weak. Your hands scramble to take his shirt off right after you manage to throw his belt somewhere, and you stop for a moment to admire the hard planes of his abs.
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Wonwoo must be the hottest person alive. How can someone have such a handsome face and have a body that looks like it’s sculpted by the gods? He’s getting stronger with his gym practices and it's making you weak.
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“You might actually drool if you keep staring like that,” Wonwoo says, half joking and half serious, but you blush anyways.
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“Just—” you try, breath labored and chest heaving. “J-just rail me. Use me.”
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“Yeah? Want me to treat you like the slut you are?” his lewd question makes you tremble and nod your head. “Speak.”
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“Y-yes, please—” you beg, revolve slowly breaking in.
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“Of course you do,” he answers, voice a few octave lowers again, and he grabs a fistful of your hair. Wonwoo pulls at it until your head is thrown back, his face right above yours. “Open your mouth.”
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You’re quick to obey, mouth parting as he hovers over you, the only thing keeping you up is one of his arms around your waist.
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And oh god, you’re certainly not expecting when he fucking spits into your mouth, a hand coming to press against your jaw and make you close your lips, but you sure as hell want him to do it again.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀
“Swallow.” Wonwoo orders, and you moan, doing as you’re told. He looks at you with a feral satisfaction, eyes dark and so full of hunger it stunts you into silence. It’s like there’s this lustful wish of him to break you in until you don’t belong to anyone else but him, and that’s so fucking hot.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀
He kisses you for what feels like the hundredth time — not that you’re complaining, he could kiss you for one hundred more and you’d still beg for it. But this time there’s something different, something urgent, and he grasps the back of your thighs when he finishes taking his clothes off and fish something from the pocket of his pants, hefting you up in the air, your legs circling around his waist automatically.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀
Wonwoo doesn’t break the messy kiss as he walks through the garage, opening the door that leads to the inside of the house. He doesn’t waste time before slamming you into it as soon as he closes it, your back hitting the wooden frame with a loud thud as the two of you make out like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀
There’s too much tongue and too much spit and too much teeth, but the dirtiness of it all is what makes it even more hot.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀
“Want you,” you whine out, realizing that what Wonwoo took out of his pants earlier was a package of lube.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀
He rips at the top and pours at his hands, reaching behind you to stroke his hard cock, groaning at the feeling as he lines up with your entrance. The wet head nudges your rim softly, but it slips through your folds. You look at Wonwoo only to realize he’s already staring at you, devious glint in his eyes.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀
You’re about to tell him to hurry up when a moan is punched out of you, high pitched and needy, because Wonwoo fucked his cock inside you in one go, nearly knocking the breath right out of your lungs. Your nails scratch all over his back and he groans at the feeling, hips kicking into you.
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“You like that?” he questions, rhetorically of course, and grinds his hips until they are flushed against your ass. You gasp for air, feeling full to the brim, and the burn in your cunt is just so good. “Think I don’t know about your little plans to rile me up?”
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Wonwoo even has the audacity to laugh, jamming inside you with slow but deep thrusts.
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“How you get more handsy with your friends when I’m around,” he grits out, anger bleeding through his thoughts and thrusts like he just hates the idea of you touching more intimately other people. “And you look at me with those eyes. Like you’re begging me to claim you.”
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀
Holy fuck, Jeon Wonwoo is fucking you standing up and you’re not dreaming.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀
Wonwoo is full on mercilessly ramming you now, sending you body into the door with every plunge of his cock, the sound of your back hitting the wood obscenely loud. It leaves you putty, can just take what he’s giving you, hands holding him for dear life.
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“Should’ve put you on your knees right in front of that guy,” Wonwoo continues, breath ragged from effort. “Make you choke on my cock so he knows who you belong to.”
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Wonwoo grabs your ass with his hands, palms sinking into the flash as he propels you back every time he fucks up. It makes the drag of his thickness press right through all the good spots.
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“Should’ve bent you over the bar counter and fucked you hard until you scream my fucking name,” he growls out, the veins on his neck and arms bulging. You tighten around him in answer to the sinful view. “Fuck, your pussy is so greedy. Always so tight—”
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀
Wonwoo angles his hips just right and hits against your sweet spot so suddenly that your climax — which was already at bay — escalates quickly to the point it sends your mind into a frenzy.
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And, for the third time, Wonwoo slows down, hips flush against your ass he can nudge his cockhead right above your sweet spot, missing it on purpose. Your eyes prickle with tears, and it doesn’t take long for them to run down your face; the first one goes reluctantly, but after that they start cascading down your cheeks uncontrollably.
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“So beautiful,” Wonwoo groans at the sight of you crying for him, pecking one of your tears strained cheek. “I’ve broken you in, haven’t I?”
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“P-please, Wonwon— Please, please, please let me c-come,” you sob, all the want to be a brat gone from your body. The overwhelming need grows so exponentially big inside of you you feel like you’re going to explode if you don’t orgasm.  “W-wanna cum on your cock, please, ah—”
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Wonwoo is moaning, louder than he has all day, and the satisfaction of seeing you give up on your fight and beg for him makes his hips pick up a brutal pace. You gasp, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck and biting at the untouched skin.
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“So pretty when you beg,” he compliments, and you actually find surprising your ability to blush even when you’re being dicked down this good. “Does it feel good, sweetheart?”
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“Y-yes— Ah! Hmmm, shit—” you mumble, struggling to get words out. It’s difficult to keep your voice steady enough to say anything with the way you’re bouncing like a ragdoll on Wonwoo’s hold. “Love this— L-love you, ruin me, Wonwoo, Wonwon—”
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Wonwoo pulls your head backward with a fistful of your hair, baring your neck so that he could attack it with bites and hickeys all over. You’re sure that, by the end of this night, you’re going to be looking like some type of sexual Christmas tree, but the thought of baring your boyfriend’s marks after sex only turns you on. And he seems pretty intent on that, wanting to claim you in all ways possible.
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“Say it,” Wonwoo commands, but you don’t understand, can’t understand with your mind being in such a pleasurable haze. He fucks up right in the time he pulls you back down by your waist, downright impaling you on his cock. “Say you’re mine.”
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“Y-yours,” you answer, fingers intertwining through Wonwoo’s dark strands of hair. “I’m yours.”
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“Again,” Wonwoo growls out, basking in your pleads and moans and screams of pleasure.
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“Yours,” you repeat, and he bites on your lower lip. You have enough of a mind presence to admire his bulging biceps contorting with your weight, and his huge test firm and sweaty from the effort.
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“Again,” his possessive side gets the best of him, admiring all the marks he has left in your neck. “Say it again.”
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“Yours, ah!” a moan breaks at the end of the word, Wonwoo’s thrusts getting rougher, faster and there’s heat pooling down on your lower stomach. “I’m y-yours, all yours, only yours.”
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀
“Yes, mine,” Wonwoo agrees, holding your smaller frame tightly against his. “Mine,” he echoes again, muscles trembling from fucking you standing up.
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Wonwoo kisses you, the best he can with the harsh movement of your body going up and down on his cock.
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“I love you so much,” he tells you, voice soft and rough at the same time. “I have always been only yours.”
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“I’m gonna come, I’m g-going to— going to come,” you state after his words, the pull on your lower stomach growing impossibly higher, and it’s almost unbearable. “Please, fuck, please l-let— cum— let m-me cum! I have been g-good, please, Wonwon—”
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”Such a good girl for me. The best girl,” Wonwoo praises, angling his hips a little so he can press his cockhead against your sweet spot every time he fucks inside. “Come on, you can cum, sweetheart.”
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Your eyes roll so far back in your head you’re momentarily afraid they are never coming back. White hot pleasure surges in your body, the sheer intensity of your high sends your mind into a mess. The feeling of your walls clenching like a vice around Wonwoo’s cock sends him over the edge too, and the sensation of his cum shooting inside your walls only serves to add up to what you think it’s the best orgasm of your life, mind going completely blank.
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This might have been totally different from what you’ve originally planned but you know what? You’re definitely going to use this plan more often now.
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1K notes · View notes
queridopascal · 3 months ago
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remote vibrator
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Pairing: Dave York x F!Reader
Warning: 18+, explicit content, I really don’t know how to categorize this as a warning, except for the fact that Dave is nasty and wants to have some fun in public
KINKTOBER 2021 MASTERLIST
Being Dave York’s assistant (and secret lover) had its pros and cons. One of them could have been the fact that you had to work on Sunday nights, when all your friends were sitting at the table of some club, sharing silly stories, gossiping and drinking cocktails.
The elevator isn’t as full as it is during weeknights, it’s just you, Dave and three other people you know by sight: a certain John from Public Relations, Sally from the Administration office and Paul, the night guardian.
A small yawn leaves your mouth as you rest your head against the wooden panel behind you, and Dave looks at you with furrowed brows.
“You tired?” he asks, his hand sliding down to meet yours and squeezing it gently.
“A little,” you sigh with a slight smile, “can’t wait to take a hot bath.”
“Hmm, sounds tempting...” he whispers as he brings his lips close to your ear, waves of his warm breath crashing against it. “But you know I can’t, I promised Carol I’d take her out tonight.”
You nod with a sad pout and lower your gaze, almost jumping when the buzzer indicates that the elevator has reached the fifth floor. The guardian steps out and bids you all goodbye with a polite nod of his head before the doors slide close behind him with a metallic hiss.
Sally pulls her phone out of her purse and scrolls through the contacts list; she presses her thumb on a certain “Nick” and brings the phone to her ear, smiling like a teenager as he answers on the other end.
John, on the contrary, puts on his headphones and closes his eyes; the cover of a podcast about conspiracy theories appears on the screen of his phone for a couple of seconds before he tucks it back into the pocket of his coat, meeting Dave’s stoic gaze for the briefest of moments.
You both stay silent for a minute or so, until Dave looks at you out of the corner of his eye and curls his lips mischievously. “Do you have it on, baby?”
“I do,” you answer, unaware of the fact that his thumb is hovering only a millimeter above the vibrator’s power button. “Oh my God, Dave...” you choke out a little whimper when the vibrations start, and bite on your lower lip to suppress another one.
The setting is the lowest, but your legs are already turning into jelly.
“You like that, don’t you? How about I turn up the setting, hmm? Let’s try level two...” he murmurs against your temple, and a split second later you feel the egg-like object vibrate inside of you, this time slightly more intense, almost tickling you.
“Da-ave... please, I c-can’t resist...” you tremble, begging him to stop as you cling to the sleeve of his coat for dear life, but his devilish grin shows no mercy.
“I want to have some fun, baby.” he murmurs as he leaves a kiss in your hair. “I want to make you cum right here, on this elevator.”
The elevator stops again and your lips part when finally, finally, the other two people step out of it without even bothering to say goodbye, both of them too focused on their phones to notice how wrecked you are.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he coos as he kisses your neck, his broad body caging you between him and the wall of the elevator. “I know you’re gonna cum on setting number three, do it for me, baby.”
The vibrations increase in rhythm and intensity, and you pull Dave in for a kiss, all messy and desperate; your purse falls to the floor with a heavy thud, and you wrap your arms around his neck as you cum with a muffled cry of his name.
Dave smirks into the kiss and turns off the vibrator as his free hand sneaks in-between your legs and under your skirt, fingers making contact with the wet fabric of your panties that sticks to your core.
“Good girl,” he praises as he pulls away from your lips. “We’ll do it in the meeting room next time.”
KINKTOBER TAGLIST: @wild-at-heart-kept-in-cage @theorganasolo @pazizz @beskarboobs @lovesbiggerthanpride @randomness501 @din-jarhead @pedritoispunk @soltaasbruxas @phoenixhalliwell @thisisthewayyy @danniburgh @softboidjarin @0callme-mimi @prideandpascal @destiny-tsukino @randeerenae @candywh0r3 @janebby @fastandfeminist @spanishmossmagnolia @dopeqff
199 notes · View notes
wyn-n-tonic · 8 months ago
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Picture of You
Pairing: Francisco Morales x f!reader (Miller Sister) Word Count: 2.2k Warnings: Smut. Unprotected sex (pls be safe tho, y'all).  Author's Note: This is shamelessly self indulgent and also I wish getting fucked in the back of a truck was as goddamn romantic as this.
MASTERLIST 
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When Frankie removes his hat to push his curls to the side, you see the flash of something stuck into the buckram. You don’t question him, but you’re curious as to what it is. Your brothers both keep little notes in theirs. Your younger brother keeps reminders to himself, grocery lists like he doesn’t know what the notes app is. Your oldest brother keeps his coping mechanisms written and tucked into his, he sees it when he takes his cap off and you know it gives him strength to know it’s there.
Maybe that’s what’s tucked into Frankie's cap too. 
He holds you to his lap in the bar, the Saturday night crowd of it causing a shortage of chairs, and his arm is a steel cage. You can balance yourself across his thigh but you like it when he helps, especially when his thumb begins to absentmindedly stroke your side where his hand is resting. More than making arousal flood through you—and you’re sure he can feel it through his jeans too if his leg hasn’t gone completely numb beneath you—it makes you feel safe, here in his arms.
The pitcher’s running low so you volunteer to grab another. The night’s a bit rowdy, there’s a fight on the screens and that’s part of the reason you’re out now. Benny wanted to watch some kid off YouTube get his ass kicked, whatever that meant, but didn’t want to pay for the fight so… here you are. As you stand, Frankie’s hand trails your stomach and catches your hand and when you look back at him, his eyes are soft.
They say, I’m coming with you.
And you don’t mind. It’s been hot out and it’s hotter in the bar, rowdy with groups of men throughout but all loud and cursing and you’re wearing a sundress in the midst of all of it. What you’re really worried about, though, is Frankie. He doesn’t like loud noises anymore and crowds can get to him so you squeeze his hand tightly and pull him up.
“You're such an old man, Francisco,” you laugh as he groans.
He shakes his head, “not old, leg’s just kind of numb,” laughing along as he follows you the short distance to the register.
As you’re signaling to the bartender that you’d like two more pitchers, you say, “guess I’ll just have to sit on the other one, baby.” 
Frankie’s hot breath is in your ear as the bartender takes your empty pitchers to begin filling them, “so what? You leave a wet spot on that one too?” 
Heat runs up your neck and floods your cheeks under his words, the intensity so much that you almost miss being asked if you need anything else.
Just as Frankie’s about to say no, you jump in, “yeah, can we get one twenty piece plate of buffalo wings and one twenty piece of honey barbecue?” You turn and point to your table, “one of those idiot golden retrievers will come collect the plates though.” 
“You got it, sweets,” the bartender says, plugging your order into the tab under your table number and handing you a pager, “that’ll buzz when it’s ready but y’all know the drill by now. You know when we’ll see Benny on the big screen?”
“Not too soon if he doesn’t stop fucking with these wings but, then again, I’m an enabler.”
You and Frankie each grab a pitcher with a thank you and head back to the boys who seem to have started a ruckus themselves in the meantime.
You slap the pager between the aforementioned idiots, “we got forty wings coming and I swear to god, if you two big dumb dipshits eat all the honey barbecue before I get back, I will skin you alive.”  
“Just where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Benny shouts his question straight into your face. The man has no volume control on a good day but he certainly loses it in a crowd, “the fight’s about to start!” 
“I need to get some air,” you tell him, “it’s fucking hot in here, baby brother, next time I would rather just split the price of the fight and order in.” 
He pulls a mocking face at you while he pours and you return it, ready to jump in with more instructions when Will says, “I've got it, go enjoy making out with your boy.” 
You stick your tongue out at the oldest of you all, still a little shocked at Will’s coolness of you dating one of his best friends. Your entire life, even up to your thirties, has been spent with the threatening attack dogs of your family behind your back but with Frankie?
“Hey,” Will calls as you turn on your heels to Frankie’s flushed hot face, “be gentle with him, Benny kicked his ass in training earlier.” 
You nod, grabbing your boyfriend’s hand again and dragging him out the front door with you.
He catches your face in a kiss when you turn to him, passing the threshold with the doors falling shut behind.
“Hmm,” you lean into his touch, “who's the eager one now?”
He lets you go and takes the lead, your hand held tightly in his as he leads you over to the truck. He had to park in the next parking lot over, the abandoned Texas Roadhouse dark behind it.
He’s fast. Where you usually have to take two strides to his every one, it’s becoming more like three.
The backdoor is pulling open in no time and he’s helping you to sit up, allowing you to brace yourself on his shoulder for support as you find the edge of the bench.
He removes his hat, gently setting it to the floor of the truck beside your bag and he’s warm beneath you as you cradle his head in both of your hands. His soft, overgrown curls spilled around your fingers as you pull him into you hungrily. 
Hands slip beneath your skirt, pushing against the fabric of your soaked cotton panties.
“Fuck, baby girl,” he breathes, breaking the kiss to lean his forehead against yours, “you’re so fucking wet for me, how are you this fucking wet for me already?”
It’s insecurity wrapped in surprise, one covering up the other.
“Oh, my soft, sweet boy,” you tug on his hair, eliciting a groan from deep within him as you pull his head back to expose his neck to you under nothing but the light pollution of the bar next door, “how many times do I have to tell you I’ve been this wet for you for years?” 
You lick a stripe up his thick throat, the vibrations of his broken whine mixing with the sweat of his skin on your tongue. 
A finger slips inside of you, causing your breath to hitch as you bring his mouth back to yours and he smiles. 
“I don’t have a condom,” he whispers against your lips.
You shake your head, confused, “we haven’t used those in months.”
“I know,” his breathing quickens against yours as he adds another finger to his rhythm, “but I don’t want to leave you a mess to sit through the whole fight.”
“Fran—“ he pulls a moan from you then, fingers curling inside of you like he’s beckoning you forward, “it doesn’t matter.”
“Shh,” he coos into your cheek, picking up the pace of his fingers, “cum for me and tell me it doesn’t matter.” 
His free hand snakes around your back, pulling you closer. He kisses you again, covering you where your head has fallen back in pleasure and he swallows every moan he pulls from you. 
Your hands run down to fist in the soft fabric of his button up, pulling him closer before he pulls away again. His fingers leave you and you watch with heavy eyes as he sucks each one between his lips and hums in approval.
“That's my girl,” he praises, “that’s my fucking girl.” 
The humidity is wrapping around you both and you lean forward to catch a drop of sweat on your tongue before it disappears beneath the buttons of his shirt, “you gonna fuck me or what, Morales?”
“Depends, Miller,” he cards his fingers through your hair now, “you gonna tell me why it doesn’t matter if I leave you messy?” 
“Just get up here,” you whine, scooting back on the bench seat.
Shaking his head, he demands, “answer the question, sweetheart.”
“You think I came unprepared, Francisco?” You lay back, lifting your legs and pulling your skirt up around you, “there are extra panties in my bag and you know I never go anywhere without wet wipes, I can just go change in the bathroom.” 
He still stands where he has been as you lift yourself again and you can see his cock straining against his jeans just the same as his arms strain against his sleeves so you crook your finger at him now, “come on, Francisco, come be a good boy.” 
He reaches up to the support beam and lifts himself into the truck, tucking his legs underneath him as he shuts the door behind him.
“It's gonna be a tight fit, baby,” you laugh.
He growls, eyes flick back down to your center and he reaches out greedily to grab the waistband of your panties, “it's always a tight fit, baby.” 
You watch as he gently removes the fabric, the hot air of the truck doing nothing to ease the ache between your legs as it hits you where you want him the most. There’s a pillow at your head, left over from your last stargazing adventure, and he grabs the blanket you left here as well.
Your brows knit up in confusion as he lifts your hips and slides the blanket under you and he smiles.
“You said I can get you messy, doesn’t mean I want to mess up your dress.” 
“Well,” you laugh, “take those pants off and rock my world, Francisco.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he unbuttons and quickly pushes his jeans down his thighs, “more like rock this truck.”
Your breath catches as he lines himself up and pushes into you, sliding to the hilt. He sighs against your ear, cradling your jaw in his large hand.
“My whole world’s in this truck, baby boy,” you whisper, taking the thumb that runs along your bottom lip into your mouth. 
“Fuck,” he breathes, as he begins to set a pace that promises to leave a different kind of ache for your morning, “I don't think I’ll last, baby.” 
“Shh,” you begin to clamp down around him as grabs tightly to your thigh, “it’s okay.” 
You cry out into him again, his mouth hot and heavy against yours as you cum for him. He fucks you through it, his pace never faltering but you can feel him getting sloppy now.
“Come on, baby,” you open your eyes to find his screwed shut and he drops his forehead against your lips, “cum for me, sweet boy, come on.” 
He groans, his release snapping into you warm and wet, and allows his strength to collapse against you.
“I'm sorry,” he whispers, “I just haven’t seen you all week an—“ 
“No, baby, you’re perfect,” you press your lips to his forehead again, “don’t apologize, I know it’s been a long week. I missed you too.” 
You turn your head to see if you can reach your bag without disturbing him too much as he gathers his strength when you see it.
There, lying upside down on the floor of his truck, is his hat and tucked inside the lining is a picture of you.
Tears prick your eyes before you realize you’re speaking again, words broken with hiccups and he jerks to attention above you, asking you if you’re hurt.
“No,” you sob, “I just love you so much.”
He laughs at that and you can feel him twitch inside of you, his overflow cooling sticky on your thighs.
“Do tears get you hot, Francisco?”
He laughs harder, “if they did, I’d have fucked Benny years ago.” 
You can’t stop now, shaking in both sobs and laughter under him as he runs his hands up and down your side to sooth you.
“Hey,” he pulls you back to him, “will you move in with me?”
You search his face for the joke you’re not getting, “really?”
He nods his head, “sucks not being with you at the end of every day.” 
The tears are back, sliding down your temples and into your hair as you tell him, “yes, nothing would make me happier.”
“If that’s the case,” he laughs against your lips, “I guess I’ll return that ring.” 
He pushes his fingers through your hair as he kisses you again, tilting your head back gently under his. You can feel him getting hard again and you swear you can stay here forever when there’s a tap at the window.
“Hey!” Benny shouts, “the wings are here so if you want to get out of my sister so she can eat, that would be fantastic!”
You find Frankie’s eyes, wide with shock, and erupt into laughter under him all over again, “you heard my brother.”
“I’m so looking forward,” Frankie yells back, “to her moving in with me and you can’t do this shit anymore!” 
“He has a key, baby,” you whisper but Benny doesn’t hear you as he shouts back, “I have a key, Francisco!” 
“Hey Benjamin,” Frankie groans, “go back to the bar before you see things you don’t want to see!” 
TAGLIST: @a-bang-for-your-bucky​ @amneris21​ @apascalrascal @bdavishiddlesbatch​ @casualpalacebagelrascal @danniburgh​ @darnitdraco​ @dobbyjen​ @empress-palpat1ne​ @evelynseventyr​ @gracie7209​ @green-socks​ @greeneyedblondie44​ @hnt-escape​ @icanbeyourjedi​ @justanotherblonde23​ @klaine-92​ @knivesareout​ @lachicapequena​ @leonieb​ @lexi-b-writes​ @liviiii98​ @mariesackler @mouthymandalorianalso​ @mssarahpaulsooonn @notcookiebelle​ @omlwhatamidoinghere​ @pascalslittlebrat​ @phoenixpascal​ @phrog-seeds @pilothusband​ @princess76179​ @purplepascal042​ @rosiefridayrogersunday​ @sarahjkl82-blog​ @sleep-tight1 @soyelfuegoquearde​ @starlightmornings​ @talesfromtheguild​ @the-feckless-wonder​ @wheresarizona​ @wille-zarr​
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boyfriendsmalec · 5 days ago
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Always Hungry for You
Post Episode 12. Canon compliant.
It was one of those rare mornings where Pran actually slept in. He had to work late into the night, finishing up on his final revisions to a building plan, so he allowed himself to sleep in for once, groaning when Pat pressed messy kisses to his hair before getting out of bed.
He roused hours later to the smell of frying bacon and crossed his fingers that their apartment wasn’t about to be burned down. He laid there, half-asleep until Pat greeted him with a tray full of food.
“Good morning,” Pat trilled. Pran gave him his best grumpy look. “Aw, baby, c’mon wake up. It’s almost eleven.”
“Eleven?” Pran grumbled, shifting and accepting the tray of food. “Hmm you didn’t burn it this time.”
“I have the best teacher,” Pat said, grabbing Pran’s fork and cutting him a bit of pancake, holding it out to him. Pran let out a laugh, leaning forward to take a bite, before Pat pulled it away last second, taking the pancake for himself. As Pat chewed, Pran whined and tried to grab the fork out of Pat’s hand.
“Ai'Pat, that's mine,” Pran complained.
“Hey, I didn’t eat because I wanted to wait for you,” Pat pouted, holding the fork just out of reach. “And I made the food, I deserve a bite. It’s the boyfriend tax.”
“Fiancé tax,” Pran corrected automatically.
It was still new, the ring still felt like a strange but welcome weight on his finger. It’d been only five days ago. And what a five days it’d been. They’d been celebrating their fresh engagement by christening the apartment for a second time over a series of days – hence why Pran was almost late on his deadline last night.
“Ah yes,” Pat’s eyes brightened. “So sorry, my fiancé.” Pat leaned forward, pressing a sticky syrup kiss to Pran’s lips. Pran pulled back, licking at his lips thoughtfully.
“Not bad,” Pran set the tray to the side. “But I’d like another taste.”
Pran leaned forward, grabbing onto Pat’s head and kissed him thoroughly, tasting the sweet syrup on Pat’s tongue. And… something smoky. Bacon? And something bitter. A hint of coffee.
“Liar, you already ate without me,” Pran mumbled.
“Hm, well I feel quite starved right now,” Pat whispered, crawling on top of Pran, between his spread legs.
“Well I’m famished,” Pran’s eyes shined and Pat snapped, whipping his t-shirt over his head before Pran tackled him, knocking them off the bed and onto the floor.
Somewhere in the next half hour the breakfast tray had somehow fallen to the ground, leaving a huge mess, and Pran and Pat ended up back in bed, naked, chests heaving, lips swollen and necks blossoming an array of love bites.
“You happy with your breakfast?” Pat asked, and Pran smirked.
“Happy it lasted more than five minutes–”
Pat swatted at his chest.
“Hey!”
“Fine, yes,” Pran sighed, before stretching out his arms over his head. “But I really need to have something else in my stomach other than your–” Pran glanced down at Pat’s lower half, stopping himself short.
“Guess it’s not the most nutritious breakfast,” Pat admitted with a smug look. “Well I guess I can just heat up leftovers for us.”
“You do that,” Pran sighed, as Pat leaned over to press a warm kiss to his temple. “I guess I’ll clean up our actual breakfast.”
“Mm, no, you just sit and relax. I will take care of you today,” Pat said.
“Haven’t you already?” Pran smirked.
“I already did. Twice.”
“Pat–”
“Wanna go for three times?”
“Pat I am actually starving, and will eat Nong Nao if you don’t–”
“You would never–”
Pran grabbed Nong Nao from the bedside table and pretended to bite on the doll’s little arm. Pat wailed and tugged the doll from Pran's grasp.
“Don’t eat our child, Pran!”
“Then make me something to eat or I won’t be taking care of that again–” Pran made a point to gesture to Pat’s lower half – “for a week.”
Pat looked aghast. “You would never.”
“I waited a year before, Pat. I can wait a week.”
“Back then we had phone sex three times a week–”
“Pat–”
“Okay, okay! I’m going!” Pat groaned, getting up, and leaving Nong Nao back on the nightstand. “Behave yourself.”
“That’s my line,” Pran huffed as he got up, rummaging around for a pair of boxers. The first one he found was a pair of Pat’s but he put them on anyway.
He was only halfway through deciding on what shirt to wear when he heard a knock resound from their front door.
“Pat? Pran?”
Pran saw Pat freeze.
Four voices echoed from outside that door.
Their parents.
It had taken until fairly recently for their parents to start openly accepting their relationship. They had even seemed pleased by the news of their recent engagement. But why were they here? Now?
“Get dressed,” Pran hissed, as he threw on whatever was closest to him. One of Pat’s shirts, a pair of his own shorts. He kicked the breakfast tray and the scattered pieces of bacon and eggs to the side and bolted to the mirror to check his hair.
He looked well and truly fucked. Literally.
“Shia Pat! I told you not to leave hickeys on my neck anymore!”
Pat stumbled around, grabbing items out of the dirty clothes hamper and shoving them on.
“Sorry! I wasn’t thinking straight–”
“Clearly,” Pran groaned, running his hands through his hair. He snapped off his shirt and shrugged on a new shirt with the highest possible collar he could find.
“Pat! Pran! You in?” Pran’s dad called. "I see Pat's car parked out front!"
“Just a minute!” Pran shouted back, rearranging his hair into place before he went over to Pat, smoothing out the lines in his t-shirt, and righting his hair into place.
“I mean worst comes to worst, our parents know we have a healthy sex life,” Pat said in an attempt to soothe Pran.
“I don’t want our parents to think about us having sex at all.”
“We’re getting married of course they know we have sex–”
“But they don’t need the evidence of it in front of them!”
“Guys?” Pat’s mom this time.
“Coming!” Pat shouted.
“You won’t be coming for a long time after what you did to my neck,” Pran grumbled while Pat jutted out his lower lip.
Finally looking respectable enough, Pran went forward to greet their parents at the door.
But when they entered, Pran’s sex brain couldn’t shut itself off. Because now his parents were sitting on the couch that he had rode Pat on just three days ago, and Pat’s parents were by the kitchen counter, where Pran had bent Pat over on two days ago, and then Pran’s mom was admiring and running her finger across the coffee table that Pat had laid on when Pran sucked him off just yesterday and Pran really couldn’t take it anymore.
Pat’s father moved to lean against the glass door that led to their balcony and Pran’s mind was filled with the memory of their engagement night. Of Pat lifting him against the door, rutting against him, first Pat’s fingers inside him and then his—
“Pran, honey, you look a little pale. Are you okay?” Pat’s mom. Pran forced a smile.
“Yeah, it’s just that we weren’t expecting you guys. Would you like anything to drink. Tea? Water?” Pran managed to put on a neutral expression and Pat stood at his side, gripping his hand tight. They both weren’t used to showing affection in front of their parents, but Pran appreciated the comfort of Pat’s touch right now more than anything.
“No, it's fine. I'm sure you're both wondering why we dropped by. And it's just... We just… we started talking,” Dissaya started, looking back at Ming, he was hanging out in the kitchen, head kept low. “And we decided we want to offer to fully pay for your wedding.”
Pat looked at Pran, eyes wide in shock.
“And your honeymoon too–” Pran’s father continued. “Wherever you want."
“I heard Australia is very nice for honeymoons–” Pat’s mom cut in. “Or maybe you want to go to Europe. The Greek Isles would be lovely after a summer wedding.”
“We’re having a spring wedding,” Pat told her, fingers still tight around Pran’s.
And Pran – shit he felt like crying. Because was this actually happening? Were his and Pat’s parents actually offering to pay for their wedding and honeymoon? Surely this wasn’t reality.
And it wasn’t just about the money. It was about the sentiment behind it all.
“And if you ever need a down payment on a house–” Ming cleared his throat. “Don’t hesitate to ask.”
Pran noticed Pat’s jaw clench out of the corner of his eye.
“We’re quite happy here,” Pran said. “But thank you. We will let you know in the future.”
“You’ll need a bigger place if you want to have kids,” Pat’s mom said. “I mean – only if that’s what you both want.”
“We do,” Pat said, his voice as tight as his grip on Pran’s fingers. “One day.”
“Well I'm glad to hear that,” Dissaya smiled, and Pran was feeling himself crumbling. "I can't wait to have grandchildren someday."
“Let the wedding happen first, Ma,” Pran laughed. “We want to wait until our thirties before having kids.”
“That’s what Ming and I said too,” Pat’s mom laughed. “But then oops– we had not one, but two.”
Pran had to bite his tongue to refrain from saying that with him and Pat there wouldn’t be any surprise pregnancies. But again, the last thing he wanted was for either of their parents to in any way think about them having sex.
Thankfully, their parents didn’t stay too much longer, though both Pat and Pran's mom’s left them with platters of food.
Pat and Pran happily slurped at their gifted noodles, relieved to not have been caught by their parents. And also still processing the news put before them.
Their parents accepted them now. Fully. Even if Dissaya and Ming were still awkward and stilted around each other. They were trying for them. And it really meant the world.
Somehow through it all they made it through. To this moment. From a childhood rivalry, to secret friends, to boyfriends, to lovers, to husbands-to-be.
Pat and Pran's rings shined in the sunlight that poured into their apartment.
“Do you remember our first time?”
Pran startled, not expecting that question. “What?”
“You don’t?” Pat whined.
Pran laughed, offended. “Of course, I do. How could I ever forget our beach honeymoon.”
They hadn’t gone all the way that time – that had been later, in Pran’s room a couple days after. They weren’t sure exactly what they preferred at the time. Pran had decided he wanted to see what it was like to have Pat inside him first.
It hadn’t exactly gone well.
Pat scrambled to get a condom on, hands so slippery with lube that it almost didn't go on, and he barely thrusted into Pran five times before he came inside him and Pran laughed into his pillow for the next hour as Pat pouted, saying it wasn’t fair because Pran was too hot for his own good.
Pat had challenged him that he couldn’t do better, and Pran took him up on that challenge, flipping their positions. Turns out Pran did have better stamina. Though admittedly he hadn’t lasted as long as he would’ve hoped. He immediately understood why Pat had come so quickly after he was inside Pat for the first time.
It was a lot, a lot.
“I knew there was no going back after our first time.”
Pran smiled. “So I’m that good in bed, huh?”
Their actual first time had been even more stumbling and fumbling around. They didn’t know what they were doing, both never having gone this far with anyone before. Pat got his head stuck in his shirt and Pran's boxers somehow kept getting tangled around his ankles as Pat tried to shove them off.
They had rutted against each other for what felt like hours, and after coming down from their first high, they went at it again. Hands on each other this time. And then again. Mouths on each other.
Pran made Pat come five times over the span of that night. Three times with his mouth alone. Pran’s jaw still ached from the memory. He had to ice his jaw the next day while fielding embarrassing questions from Uncle Tong and Yod.
“It wasn’t just about the sex,” Pat laughed. “I just never knew what it’d be like to feel so… so connected to someone like that before. And I knew I never wanted to experience something like that with anyone else.”
Pran’s eyes softened. “I’m glad you were my first.”
“I’m glad you were mine.”
“I’m glad you’re my only.”
“Me too.”
“Well, except for that one time with Wai–” Pran joked.
Pat scowled, sticking out his tongue, pinching at Pran’s thigh. “Don’t you dare even put that image in my mind.”
“Believe me, I don’t even want that image in mine,” Pran shuddered and Pat smiled then.
“You just like me when I get jealous.”
“I do not–” Pran scoffed.
“Yes, you do. You like when I’m possessive,” Pat leaned forward, finger skating over the love bite at the corner of Pran’s collar.
“Pat, I’m actually hungry right now,” Pran groaned, though he couldn’t stop the thrill it sent through him. Just Pat’s fingertips. That’s all it took.
“Then eat up, my dumpling,” Pat tutted, lifting a dumpling up to Pran’s mouth. “Because I have plans for you today.”
“Oh do you?” Pran raised an eyebrow. “So do I.”
Pat’s eyes flashed. “You go first.”
“Let's finish eating first,” Pran said, leaning forward and taking the dumpling from Pat, swallowing it hard. “Patience is a virtue.”
“But I’m not a pious man, Pran,” Pat whined.
“Lucky for you, neither am I,” Pran said, with a glint in his eye, before knocking the food to the side, grabbing Pat and pinning him against the kitchen counter, leaping up until Pat’s back was on the counter, and Pran’s legs were straddled around his waist.
“We’re not in a porno, Pran–” Pat said, but his lust-blown pupils betrayed his words. “Sex on the kitchen countertop? Again?”
“What can I say? You make me hungry.”
And Pran dived in for a taste.
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snackhobi · a year ago
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pairing: jimin x reader / word count: 9.1k / genre: smut (NSFW, 18+)
summary: you wouldn’t mind your cute neighbour being such a shameless fuckboy if a) the walls weren’t so thin and b) he didn’t seem intent on adding you as another notch in his bedpost. 
but there’s only so much you can resist park jimin, especially once he gets that peach involved.
warnings: sexually explicit content, Jimin being completely shameless/a lowkey ho, messy peach eating, mentions of masturbation, oral sex (m + f receiving), overstimulation, protected sex, multiple orgasms (f), dirty talk and some cursing, hmm I think that’s it?
a/n: I was so close to calling this ‘jimin and the f*cking peach’ as some terrible homage to ‘james and the giant peach’ 😂🤧 as always I would like to thank @hobi-gif for beta reading this, putting up with me having a meltdown at her, and encouraging me to write smut at work rather than doing my job, ty queen xoxo
--
It’s official. Park Jimin is the neighbour from hell.
He’d tricked you, to start with. With those cherubic features, those doe eyes, and his cute little smile? He looks like an angel. A sweet, innocent angel, one who’d knocked shyly on your door and presented you with a small selection of chocolates when he’d moved into the apartment next to yours. Your heart had gone boom boom at the sight of that cute smile, the slip of teeth, the way his lovely face had scrunched up. 
Nowadays, whenever you see that face, you want to punch it.
Well. Not punch it. Maybe slap it a little. Because Park Jimin is a fiend. 
Your studio apartment is cheap for many reasons. The plumbing is creaky and the heating isn’t exactly great but those are small sacrifices for such low rent—ones you’re willing to make. Creaking doesn’t bother you and throw blankets exist for a reason, right? You get a balcony and a parking spot, which is more than you can say for a lot of other places in this price range, so you’ll take the negatives for these positives.
But you’d give up all the things you love about this cheap flat for some sound proofing.
Because Park Jimin fucks. 
A lot. 
He’d been nothing but lovely for the first few weeks. You’d barely been aware of his existence, minus when you could hear him in the bathroom—your flats are mirrored, rooms sharing walls, so you’d been washing your face when you’d heard his shower start up and then the sound of his dulcet tones drifting through the wall. That had actually been really nice; Jimin can hit some high notes, and it had been a pleasant backdrop as you’d cleansed your face. It had been another bullet point you’d added to the list of things you thought were cute about him (along with his face, his laugh, his smile), and you’d stupidly started to develop a tiny little crush on this boy-next-door, thinking him some soft, kind thing.
But then he’d started to have people over.
You’ve lost count of how many days you’ve had to listen to the moans and gasps that echo through your walls. You can’t escape from it. As a freelance programmer, you’re pretty much always working from home, so it’s not like you can get away from the sounds of pleasure that shudder through Jimin’s flat and into your own.
It’s never consistent, either. There’s not a single hour of the day that’s off limits to Park Jimin. Morning, afternoon, night; the boy is always ready to go, apparently. And judging from the sounds through the walls? He never leaves anyone unsatisfied either.
Which, like, fine. People fuck. You get it. You’re not judging. You just wish it wasn’t so loud. You have to sleep, for God’s sake. But it’s not like you can knock on a new neighbour’s door and be like hey, I appreciate you have an incredibly active sex life, but can you keep it down, please?
So you’d bit your tongue. You’d gritted your teeth to bear it. You’d still smile at Jimin if you ever passed in the hallway, acknowledged him with a small nod, exchanged pleasantries, all the neighbourly stuff that you’d do with anyone. You’d just invested in some good earplugs and thought that was it.
And then Jimin had started doing his morning yoga routine outside. 
You start each day with a cup of tea on your balcony, watering your hydrangeas and enjoying the dawn sun that lifts up over the horizon alongside your plants. It’s a small, singular moment of quiet in an otherwise dull day and you treasure that serenity.
Well. Treasured. Past tense. Because Jimin has invaded this part of your life, too.
The first time Jimin had unrolled his yoga mat on the balcony adjacent to yours, he’d been dressed in a deceptively unassuming outfit—a loose white t-shirt and leggings that hugged every inch of his calves and thighs and shapely ass, which you had pointedly Not Looked At. He’d tilted his head at you with a smug little smile flickering at the edge of his lips, and when he’d greeted you good morning, you’d responded in turn, even if you were still annoyed at how he’d interrupted your afternoon nap the day before with the sound of his headboard smacking into the wall repeatedly. You were still fairly new neighbours and you still felt like you had to be polite, even if he was starting to fray your nerves.
And then he’d started to bend. 
Now, you’ll be the first to admit that you don’t know much about yoga. But you’d swear Jimin was choosing poses that did the utmost to display his flexibility, the flex of his muscles and twist of his limbs, balancing his body on his arms before easing into a pose that had him bent in two, head towards his toes—and with how he had his back to you this meant you got full glimpse of his ass, straining against his leggings, the way his loose shirt slipped up his body to reveal the lines of his stomach and chest, how his face was still twisted into that little smirk even if it was upside down.
Staring at you.
You’d promptly stopped watering your hydrangeas and walked inside your flat, shutting the sliding door behind you.
Jimin is relentless.
He’s pretty and he knows it. All that shy, new-kid-on-the-block innocence he’d had initially is completely gone, and all he does is flirt, flirt, flirt. He winks at you. Stands a little too close whenever you talk. Lets his eyes flicker down to your lips, trail over every inch of you, lashes fluttering when he catches you watching, unashamed and unabashed. He frequently just… hangs around on his balcony. Not topless, no, but he may as well be, his thotty muscle tees doing nothing to hide him from your eyes.
(The worst thing, though, is when you catch him unawares. When he’s tired and clearly not expecting you to be awake, too, his eyes sleepy and his hair ruffled; a little vulnerable, a lot softer than he usually presents himself. Curled up on the small seat on his balcony with a hot drink in his hand, phone in the other, his screen throwing blue-tinted light over the easing lines of his features.
You wish Jimin was like that all the time. But the second he sees you, his eyes flicker, and his brows lift, and his mouth curls, and once again you rue the day you had a fuckboy move in next door to you.)
It’s not that Jimin isn’t hot. It’s not that you wouldn’t fuck him, either. But you have no interest in being some sort of convenient hook-up for him, purely there by circumstance, fate, whatever you want to call it. You dread to think of him sending you haha wyd x texts whenever he feels like having sex and you just happen to be nearby. So you weather all of his obvious come-ons and swerve him something chronic, even if he seems intent on making his attraction to you obvious.
You’ve been managing it for months. But as time goes on, your patience wears thinner and thinner, an atom-thick layer of fortitude the only thing keeping you from grabbing Park Jimin and kissing him and/or killing him. It doesn’t help that you haven’t fucked for a while now, and you’re reminded of this every time you hear another pornstar moan through the wall (the people Jimin brings home seem to like hamming it up for effect), every time you see another mosaic of hickeys laid across the column of Jimin’s gorgeous throat, every time you see the way his yoga outfits do nothing to protect the delicious shape of his body from your eyes.
You dig your fingers into your palms. It’s fine. It’s okay. You can handle Park Jimin and his overt sexual energy, oozing out of him almost every second of every day.
It’s a little harder to handle how he still seems sweet despite his fuckboy nature. How he picks your parcels up for you. How he lets you use his laundry detergent when you run out. How he lets you keep food in his fridge when yours breaks down and you have to wait for a replacement. How he sheds that fuckboy facade whenever it seems like you genuinely need help, how you’ve heard his soft phone calls through the wall, to his friends, his family, sweet and kind and supportive.
Park Jimin is a multi-dimensional being, for sure, and maybe you sometimes wish he was actually genuinely interested in you as a person and not as a lay, so you could peel back those layers to the lovely core at the centre of his being.
But it’s fine. You can handle this stupid yearning and pining. You can handle the knowledge that Park Jimin is a genuine gentleman who just happens to like fucking, is open in his desire for it, and is apparently Very Good at it. It’s difficult, but you can do it.
You can do it.
The date you set up with someone from Tinder ends up being disappointing and lacklustre. You’d escaped before dessert, unable to put up with one more second of this asshole going on and on about stocks, and investments, and trading, or whatever, cursing the day you’d decided to swipe on him. You’re so sick of your luck (or lack thereof) with guys. (At least the food had been nice.)
Of course Jimin sees you schlepping your way back into your apartment, disappointment obvious in the line of your shoulders and lips; it doesn’t take a genius to clock your date outfit, cute as it is, makeup and hair soft. But the night has barely begun and here you are, stepping back into your flat. Alone. 
“Bad date?” Jimin asks, voice gentle, and you just snort.
“Just like the rest of them,” you reply with a small sigh, before shutting your door quietly behind you, missing the look on your neighbour’s face.
Jimin, to his credit, eases off after this. You’re not sure if it’s due to a misplaced sense of pity or something, but even if he still smiles and flirts lightly with you, it’s less… salacious. Still there, still obvious, just a little softer. You hate how this has you feeling grateful towards him, because he’s still got so many fuckboy tendencies that it should outweigh this gentler side of his flirtation, but your traitorous heart still goes gooey every time Jimin smiles at you.
But then. 
But then.
There’s that fucking peach.
You’re just chilling on your balcony, sipping at a glass of lemonade in the warmth of the afternoon when you hear Jimin’s door sliding open. You flick your eyes over at the sound, watching the way Jimin slips out onto his own balcony, how he throws something up in the air and catches it with ease, a flick of the wrist, a curl of the fingers each time he catches it again.
He hasn’t had any fuckbuddies over for a while. A few weeks, almost a month. It’s the longest Jimin’s gone without having sex for as long as he’s started having people over and you’d been sort of concerned. Which, yeah, you know it sounds super weird when you think about it, especially considering how much you complain about Jimin to your friends—help, my fuckboy neighbour hasn’t fucked anyone in nearly a month so I’m worried if his dick has fallen off or something.
(Well, actually, you know his dick is still attached, based off the little gasps and moans he lets out whenever he pleasures himself in lieu of fucking someone else. You’ll take this secret to the grave but those noises that Jimin lets out have been the melody you use to reach your own peaks, although you’re a lot quieter than he is whenever you touch yourself, biting your lip and muffling the wet sounds of your fingers thrusting into your cunt under layers of blankets. You’d never give Jimin the satisfaction of knowing that the mental image of him fucking into his fist and cumming over his stomach and chest is what throws you over your own edge, toe-curling orgasms that shake through your body in time with Jimin’s own.)
Anyway. He looks loose limbed and relaxed when he saunters into view, utterly unsurprised by your presence behind your window box of hydrangeas, giving you his usual, sultry smile. 
He’s started to ramp up his flirtations again. This smirk is one which you’ve learned not to respond to. You just stare levelly back at him, unimpressed as you start to water your flowers, which does nothing to dissuade him. It never does. He clearly revels in the challenge.
Jimin keeps his eyes locked with yours as he lifts his hand to his lips. You catch a glimpse of what he was throwing and catching—a ripe, flush peach, tiny droplets of water shimmering on its fuzz, freshly washed.
And then he starts to eat it.
The peach yields immediately to the press of his teeth. Juice bursts out of its softness, running down his lips, his chin; he makes no moves to wipe it away, the lewd sound of his slurps as he curls his tongue into the fruit, messy and sweet.
It’s shameless. He’s shameless. His gaze is unwavering as he stares at you, his mouth glistening with the peach’s juices, the only sound the wet smack of his lips and tongue as he licks up the honeyed liquid that drips from his skin, curving around the fruit as he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing.
Water’s been trickling from your small can onto the hydrangeas, cascading over the plants; the soil is waterlogged now, but you haven’t noticed, fixated on the way Jimin is looking at you as he wantonly eats out this peach.
Drip drip, goes the watering can.
Drip drip, goes the peach.
By the time there’s nothing more than the pit in his hand, Jimin is a mess. His fingers and mouth and chin shine with peach juice, eyes dark and heavy as he watches the way you drink the sight of him in, the way his tongue slowly drags over his full lips, catching the sweetness that lingers.
The second he puts his tongue to his fingers to get the stickiness on them, that’s it. You watch the way he sucks his fingers into his mouth and promptly put the watering can down and turn on your heel to walk inside, slamming the balcony door shut behind you.
You’re done. You’re only human. You’ve spent months with Jimin parading himself in front of you, seen the way he contorts his body every morning in an unnecessarily complex sun salutation, listened to the way his voice rises when he cums; the peach is the metaphorical cherry on top, and you’re just. Over. It. 
You hammer your palms against your neighbour's door, rap-rap-rapping on the wood, your blood rising and your heart thudding in your chest, every part of you tense, wound up, pent up. The door swings open to reveal Jimin, his chin still slick with sweet peach, lips curling up in a self-satisfied smile when he sees you.
“Park Jimin.” Your voice shakes and you hate yourself for it, hate the way Jimin’s eyes glitter at the sound, the little hitch in your breath. “You are a fucking menace, you know that?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says. He leans against the doorframe, effortlessly gorgeous, hip cocked, head tilted. He lifts his hand, and there’s a heavy moment of tension as you watch him slowly swipe a thumb over the last remnant of juice on his chin, before his tongue lolls out of his mouth and he licks the final taste of peach from his fingers.
When you grab hold of his collar his expression shifts from something coy into something far more self satisfied, months of his brazen come-ons finally culminating in this—you, shoving him backwards into his apartment, kicking the door shut behind you.
“I swear,” you say. “I swear to God—”
“You swear? I can think of better things you could be doing with your mouth,” Jimin says, and then laughs when you scowl at him. “Damn, you’re so hot when you’re mad.”
“You are infuriating,” you bite out, and Jimin just laughs again, his whole body shaking, every part of him still loose and relaxed even as you continue to tighten your grip on his clothing, feeling every motion of his body under your hands. You hate how pretty he is, even now, utterly unafraid of your frustration—the brightness of his eyes and his smile, that undercurrent to it all, the way his hands slide so smoothly around your waist, your hips, sliding down to grope at your ass.
“I know,” he agrees, still giggling, and then he kisses you.
Jimin dives straight in, no holds barred, and you immediately melt into putty under his touch. He lets out a hum of satisfaction into your mouth as your hands go lax and slide down his chest. You can still taste the peach on his lips, his tongue, licking into his mouth.
You’ve thought about this mouth more times than you’d like to admit: the full swell of his lips, the little curve of his cupid’s bow, how it’d feel pressed against your own, and honestly? It’s so much better than you’d let yourself imagine it to be.
He nips at your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue, and you bite off a gasp when he pulls you forward, grinding against you. You shudder. Jimin’s mouth is a pleased curve against your own before he pulls away, murmuring in your ear in a voice that’s equal parts sultry and sweet.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, kissing the sensitive skin of your jaw just under your earlobe, making you shiver. “Just relax. You’re always so tense.”
“Maybe that’s because my neighbour keeps me up all night,” you say, but your voice is weak, no strength behind your words, breath stolen out of you at the way Jimin starts to trail his lips down your neck, across your throat. “I find that constantly getting my sleep interrupted—oh, oh—”
Jimin sucks at the hollow of your neck, the delicate skin there so sensitive to his touch, the warmth of his lips magnified, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. Your hands have slid into his hair and you unintentionally tighten your grasp, fingers tugging at his dark locks, and Jimin bares his teeth against your skin.
It’s maybe a little embarrassing how wet you are just from a little making out. But after months of Jimin teasing you and putting you on edge, coupled with how long it’s been since you've had sex? You’re allowed to be a little desperate. All the small frustrations you were about to voice die on your tongue, slipping away from you as Jimin starts to walk you backwards with a confidence that shows just how often he’s done this—leading people to his bed, never taking his hands off you.
By the time Jimin eases you to lie down, you feel breathless. He hovers above you with that satisfied smile flickering at the edge of his lips, taking in the sight of you, finally underneath him—lips kiss swollen, exquisite, all the sharp words on your tongue softened and gone, goosebumps trailing down your skin. You tug at his collar, which catches him off guard; he sways forward and almost hits his face against yours, but before he can spend too long looking smug at your desperation you capture his lips again. You melt into the mattress, hooking a foot over his calf and revelling in the weight of him between your legs, your hips flush, and how hard he’s getting through those stupidly tight leggings of his.
When he grinds against you, the outline of his cock pressed up against your cunt, an embarrassing whine leaves your lips and trembles against Jimin’s own. Jimin goes still before pulling away from the open-mouthed kiss and when you see the expression on his face you slap a hand over your mouth, burning with shame.
“Oh.” He sounds delighted. “You’re noisy, huh?”
“Shut up,” you say, though your words are muffled against your palm. He grinds down again, a slow and deep roll of his hips that lets you feel how hard he is, and a noise shudders out the back of your throat, audible around your hand.
“It’s hot.” There’s that little smirk on Jimin’s lovely lips, every inch of him dripping self confidence. He knows how you’re entirely at his mercy, in spite of your words; your voice is weak. “You’re normally so quiet.”
“Some of us try to be considerate and think about our neighbours.”
Jimin just smiles, pulling your hand away from your mouth before gently kissing your palm, a motion that’s surprisingly tender and makes you pause. 
“Trust me.” His voice is low. “I do think about my neighbour.”
Your breath hitches when he slides his free hand under your shirt, trailing his fingers over the softness of your stomach. He pulls the fabric up, letting his gaze rove over the bared skin. The way Jimin looks at you makes you feel like you’re the only woman in the world, like he’s never seen anyone prettier.
You wonder if he looks at his other fuckbuddies like this.
The thought slides away from you as Jimin dips his head and starts to kiss your throat again. You tilt your head back as his lips trail across the soft skin, his hands coming to rest under your breasts, contained as they are by your bra; once he coaxes you to sit up, it only takes him a few moments to strip your upper body, kneeling between your spread legs as he starts to trail his hands over the parts of you that are now bared to him.
“Pretty,” he says. You’d roll your eyes if he didn’t sound so reverent, and also if you weren’t distracted by the way he flicks his thumbs over your hardening nipples, your core clenching as he does, biting your lip to stop yourself from making a sound. A frown flits across Jimin’s face and he lifts one of those thumbs away from your breast, dragging your lip away from your teeth, letting his grasp linger so your lips are parted. “Don’t do that. I've been waiting for months to hear you properly.”
Before you can reply, he kisses you again, licking into your mouth and swallowing down the noise you make when he drags his hand between the valley of your breasts, down your stomach and settling between your legs, running his fingers over your cunt, the feeling dulled by layers of fabric even though he presses with intent. Your hips jolt at the sensation, and Jimin repeats the motion, dragging the fabric across your flushed lips.
“Jimin.” Your voice is a gasp against his mouth, and you can’t keep the pleading out of your tone, desperation bleeding into every letter of your words. “Please.”
He just hums, sounding pleased, and a breath of surprise escapes you as he pushes you back against the pillows. He wastes no time in getting to his prize, drawing a scattered constellation of kisses that trail across your chest, your nipples, your stomach, the line of your hip bones as you lift up so he can pull your shorts and underwear off. You’re entirely naked underneath him, bare and wet, cunt flushed and shining, and Jimin groans at the sight.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, fingers digging into your thighs as he pulls your legs wider. Your cheeks burn as Jimin stares at your pussy, but you can’t help but feel a pulse of self-satisfaction at the visible twitch of his cock in his stupid yoga leggings. “You’re so wet.”
You should probably feel embarrassed, but by now you’ve thrown all your previous inhibition to the winds. You’ve ended up somewhere you’d privately sworn you were never going to—in Park Jimin’s bed, leaned up against his pillows, laid out for him to touch and take and have, every inch of you desperate for it. There’s nothing in your brain or body but arousal and need. So instead of letting out a snip of a remark you just cant your hips towards him, another pleading sound slipping from your lips.
He gives you what you want. He dips his head and trails his lips and tongue down, down, down, wet and hot, until they press against your cunt. He looks at you with the same hooded eyes as earlier, motions of his mouth an echo of his peach eating, sloppy and messy; he’s unabashed in the way he slides his mouth over you, lips slick and tongue hot, sliding over every sensitive inch—sucking your clit, licking your folds, burying his face between your legs and drinking up every sweet drip of your juices. 
You can’t help but make noise. Small gasps that slide into moans of pleasure, hitches in your breath that make your chest jump and your breasts shake; Jimin lets out noises too, muffled against your cunt, sounds that let you know he’s enjoying himself almost as much as you. It’s honestly pretty fucking hot, the way your own pleasure seems to turn him on, how he chases that feeling, eyes blown as he takes in every one of your reactions, repeating the motions that are affecting you the most.
The sight of him between your legs has you tensing. He continues to stare up at you, the curve of your stomach when you bow towards him, the fall of your breasts, which he slides his hands over, cupping them in his palms, pinching your hardened buds, layering sensation on sensation, never taking his mouth off you.
When he presses one finger inside, and then another, both thrusting firm and deep as he mouths at your clit, you tangle a hand into his hair. He watches the way your hips jump from the sensation of his tongue directly on your clit, and does it again, and again, your voice crescendoing from the explosion of sensation, how it’s too much, before he circles his lips around it and sucks messily. Your brain registering nothing but his lips and tongue against you, the hands that are trailing up and down your sides and still skimming across your breasts.
You’re not even aware of the words that are falling from your lips, oh fuck, yes, Jimin, there, oh, the way your grasp tightens in his dark hair, your hips bucking against his mouth as you can feel your orgasm approaching. The pleasure keeps building, flames fanning brighter and brighter as Jimin buries his mouth even further in between your legs, fingers speeding up as you gasp.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you chant, voice getting higher. “I’m gonna cum, I’m cumming, oh—”
Your words slide into a moan as your back arches and your thighs tighten around Jimin’s head and you cum. Jimin continues to finger fuck you through it, your cunt pulsating around him as he keeps licking and sucking at your clit, his gaze fixed on your face as your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth falls open and every line of your body sings of the pleasure that Jimin has given to you. Even when your legs and hips start to jolt from oversensitivity and you cry out at each ripple of his tongue against you, he’s relentless, almost cruel in how he watches you writhe from a mixture of pain and overextended pleasure.
You're sobbing by the time Jimin pulls his mouth away from your cunt, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes, body shaking as you try to suck in air. He thrusts his fingers into you one more time, slow and deep, watching the way you turn your head into the pillow and muffle a gasp against it. 
“I knew you'd look and sound gorgeous when you cum,” he says, and though you feel boneless from your post-orgasm high, you can’t help a little huff escaping your lips. Jimin clearly catches the sound, quiet as it is against the linen of his pillowcase, and takes your chin in his hand to turn his face towards you. His fingers are slick with your arousal, wet against your skin.
“You sound like you’re reading off the script to a porno,” you murmur.
One of his eyebrows arches. “Oh? You don’t think I’m just speaking my mind?” Those fingers move away from your chin and trace over the swell of your bottom lip; you let your mouth fall open and swallow them down, licking the taste of yourself off Jimin’s skin. “You don’t think that I’ve been thinking about how pretty you’d look as I fucked into you, begging for me to let you cum again and again?”
Your tongue stutters against his fingers and your core clenches at his words, the dark undercurrent underneath them, and Jimin’s expression shifts as he notices.
“You really have no idea, do you?” He runs his fingertips over your tastebuds, saliva starting to pool in your mouth, the slide so wet and messy. “Who do you think I picture whenever I touch myself? Who do you think I was wishing was in my bed every time I took someone else home?”
You nip at his fingers, running the edge of your teeth along his knuckles from equal parts surprise and disbelief at his words. You find it impossible to believe that he really means that, but then you realise—recently, on the few occasions you’d bumped into Jimin in the hall when he’d had one of his lays trailing behind him, for as different and unique each of them was, each one of them had shared some sort of trait with you. Hair colour, eyes, the set of their lips, the shape of their face; once, you’d heard a girl giggling through the wall before it had trailed off into a moan, and you’d done a literal double take at how much she’d sounded like you. Similar, but not exactly the same, a slightly off-tone echo of the sound that spills from your own lips whenever you laugh.
And the emptiness in his bed had only started after the night that he’d seen the way you’d trailed into your apartment with discontent heavy around your shoulders, disappointed at that awful Tinder date.
Oh, fuck.
“You’re shameless,” you say, words a little garbled around Jimin’s fingers, but you know he understands.
“No, I’m not,” he replies, a small smirk curling up the corner of his lips. It should be illegal: the way he has such soft features that can turn so quickly into something sharper and entirely sensual, eyes hooded, lips flushed, the column of his throat so lovely and graceful as he tilts his head to one side. “I just know what I want and don’t try to hide it. What’s shameless about that? I know you want me too, but you always deny yourself the things you want. Don’t you?”
You hate that you’ve been so transparent in your attraction to him. Because the truth of the matter is that for as much as Jimin frustrates you with his entire existence, you do want him. After all—you wouldn’t be naked underneath him, still trembling from the aftershocks of a deep orgasm, if you didn’t.
“You’re not always as quiet as you think, you know,” he adds, pulling his fingers out of your mouth and enjoying the way your eyes widen at his words. You thought he couldn’t hear you through the wall, but it seems like you were wrong.
Before you can say anything in reply, though, he grinds down. Without your clothes in the way you can feel the drag of his yoga pants against your cunt, how the wetness of your cum and Jimin’s spit soaks into the fabric, his hard cock hot, and you let out a whine. He still has yet to remove any of his clothes and you want to  see them off so he’s finally naked. You’ve seen enough of his bare skin over the months to have a pretty good idea of what that looks like, but you want to see the real thing.
Jimin seems just as eager to shed his clothes, yielding to your grasping hands and carelessly throwing his top aside; you end up straddling his waist and kissing down his chest in an imitation of his motions earlier, letting your fingers trail over the lean muscle from his yoga and dance. When you tongue at one of his nipples and he gasps, you feel euphoric. He’s unfairly beautiful, from the lovely collarbones to the flex of his shoulders and arms and the line of his chest and stomach, delicate and somehow entirely masculine. You still sort of want to slap him, but settle with kissing the hollow of his neck instead, digging your fingers into his ribs as you roll your hips down against him.
His own hips buck up. You can tell that he’s desperate to be inside you, but you want to taste him first. 
When you slide down his body and settle between his legs, you hook your fingers into the tight waistband of those stupid leggings and tug them down. Jimin hisses through his teeth as you let the material settle just under his hips, baring the top of his briefs to you, how his cock strains against them, the patch of wetness at the head, darkening the fabric.
You don’t strip him. Not completely. You just hook your fingers into those dark blue briefs and pull them down just enough to reveal the flushed head of his cock, wet with precum. You let your tongue flick out to catch that salty bitterness, and Jimin bites off a curse at the almost shy licks you start to lave across his slit, circling around the weeping head.
Hearing Jimin’s gasps without the wall in the way is honestly an experience. Before, whenever he had people over, they usually drowned him out, theatrical wails and groans overpowering his far more natural noises, but now there’s nothing to prevent you from hearing the way his breath hitches in his throat or the way he moans. Even the smallest things have him letting slip sounds, a noise escaping him as you coax him to lift his hips so you can finally, finally peel those leggings and briefs off, dragging over the hardness of his cock as you do. You want to take in the sight of him fully naked, give it the proper attention it deserves, but then you feel his cock throb in your hand and you can’t stop yourself from immediately lowering your mouth to it again.
His whole body shudders. You let your jaw fall open as you take him in, tongue curling around him, hands touching every part of him that isn’t in your mouth, making sure there’s no part of  him that isn’t receiving attention. His eyes are wide under the mess of his fringe, hair falling over his forehead as he watches the way you run your lips down the side of his cock before sucking one of his balls into your mouth, circling his length with your hands, a twisting rise and fall in the motion as you drink down the noise of surprised pleasure that drops from his lips.
Jimin’s fingers have been tangled in your hair but he lets you control the flow. The sounds of you swallowing him down into your mouth as you bob your head are obscene, wet and messy, but you can still hear how his voice starts to rise, how his fingers tighten against your scalp, and you know he’s close when he tugs you upwards and drags your lips away from his cock. 
Jimin pulls you towards him and you settle against his chest as you start to kiss again, shivering at the way he rolls his tongue in your mouth. This time when Jimin rolls his hips, there’s nothing between your skin and his, dragging the underside of his cock across your flushed lower lips, the slide between your folds and against your clit making you shiver.
“Condoms?” 
You’re breathless, and Jimin quirks a smile at you.
“Top drawer,” he answers. Of course they would be, in easy reach whenever he needs them. 
You lean forwards to reach for the bedside table and Jimin takes the opportunity to circle a hand around your breast and capture a nipple in his mouth, ignoring the way you bite back a surprised noise, staring up at you with almost innocent eyes as he sucks at your skin in the way he’s worked out that you like best. Your hands are a fumble as you pull a condom out of the pack, ripping the sachet away from the others, a bottle of lube rolling into your grasp. You try to focus on your task and not the sensation of Jimin switching attention to your other breast, cupping the swell of flesh in his hand and drawing his teeth gently across your skin.
“You’re insatiable,” you mutter, and Jimin laughs before he kisses between your breasts. 
“I’ve been wanting to fuck you since we first met,” he says, utterly unrepentant. “I don't want to take my mouth off you.”
“Insatiable,” you repeat, but you’re flustered. Even if you know he’s not lying, and you’re naked and straddling his hips, the taste of his lips and cock now familiar on your tongue, it’s… kind of incredible to think that the gorgeous Park Jimin has been lusting after you for that long. 
Or lusting after you at all, really.
But as you tear the foil of the condom, the look he levels at you is burning with desire, roaming over you, every inch of your nakedness, every movement of your body. His hands rest at your waist, thumbs rubbing over your skin as you hold his cock in one hand and roll the condom down with the other, letting your fingers circle his length, dragging your touch over the heat of him and revelling in the way he twitches. As much as you’ve thought of Jimin as a fuckboy, you know that he wouldn’t lie just to get someone in his bed, so as unbelievable as his words are, every single one of his actions backs up what he’s said: he wants you.
You don't notice how soft his gaze is as you take time to warm the lube in your hands, even though you’re desperate to feel him finally slide home. You've always been so considerate, even when he knows you've been frustrated at him, and that's evident now, in this small thing.
You spread the warmed lube over his covered cock, pumping it in your hand to get him slick and ready, loving the way he hisses though his teeth. He has to stop his hips from bucking up as you line his cockhead up with your entrance, his fingers digging into your sides as you hover in place.
“Come on,” Jimin urges. “Give it to me.”
“Insatiable,” you repeat, one last time, then you bend your knees.
You finally ease yourself down and onto his cock. You both let out moans; Jimin, finally feeling the wet heat of you around him, and you, falling into the sensation of him stretching you open, snug inside you, slowly splitting you open as you take him in, inch by inch, until you’re sitting on his hips and he’s fully buried in your cunt.
It’s been a while since you’ve had someone inside you. You grind downwards, rolling your hips, biting your lip at the sensation. Jimin’s chest expands as he sucks in a sharp breath, and you roll your hips again, a hand bracing on one of his lovely, thick thighs, the other resting just under his stomach as you lean back and arch your spine. You lift your hips, easy and slow, and then fall, Jimin’s cock dragging and pressing against your inner walls, a gasp shuddering out of your lips at the electric feeling.
Again and again, noises of pleasure drip from your mouth as you ride him, head tilting back at the sensations rippling through your body and across your skin, the apartment full of the sounds of your sex—the moans, the wet thrust of Jimin’s cock into your cunt, the praise that falls from his lips, months of feeling pouring from his lips. How pretty you are, how gorgeous, how well you’re taking his cock, how wet and tight you are around him; all the things he’s been thinking about, come to life, his hips snapping into yours as a sharp cry cuts through your lips at the sudden change of pace.
The pleasure’s been steadily building between your legs again, warm and unrushed, but then Jimin flips you without warning, fluid and graceful. Your eyes are wide as you end up on your back, Jimin’s hands braced either side of your head as he looks down at you with those dark, dark eyes of his. He thrusts forwards and your hands fly up to grab at him, your entire body shifting up the mattress at the force of his movements. His eyebrows are drawn together as he starts to drive himself into you, unapologetic in how aggressive he’s being, each thrust pushing the air out of your lungs in harried little gasps that shake the air between you.
The sound of his headboard slamming into the wall, a noise that’s been haunting you each time you’ve been trying to sleep or relax, is one you don’t even register. All you can think about is Jimin, Jimin, Jimin, caught up in the way there’s sweat beading across his forehead, strands of his dark hair sticking to it, the intense look in his eyes, the way his full lips are parted, small ah-ah-ahs falling from his lips in time with his thrusts, your body tightening around him each time he slides home.
You can’t remember the last time you were fucked this good. Jimin reads the language of your body with ease, knowing exactly when to lean back and trail a hand over your hips, circling his thumb over your swollen clit, the slide over that bundle of nerves messy from the mix of cum and lube and spit that’s laid slick across you. Each fluid roll of his hips is perfectly timed with the press of his thumb, your thighs going tense and your pussy clenching around Jimin’s hot cock as you start to reach another peak of pleasure.
“Cum for me, baby.” Jimin sounds breathless. “Let me see how pretty you are when you cum around my cock.”
Normally dirty talk seems so ham-handed and stuttering, but the words fall out of Jimin’s lips  as natural as breathing, thoughtless. Stirring your arousal even further. He’s gripping your hips, pulling you down each time he presses up, and you circle your fingers around his wrist as his other hand is occupied with rubbing at your most sensitive part, tightening your hold as you feel another orgasm approaching.
“Jimin.” Your voice is a keen. “I'm so close, please, there, right there, theretherethere—”
You can't blame Jimin's other partners for being so noisy. The sound you let out is just as loud, maybe even louder, Jimin continuing to snap his hip forwards as you cum hard, a drawn out moan that crescendos as you pulsate around Jimin's cock, still hard inside you. He watches the way you writhe beneath him, tangling his fingers with yours when you reach for him and swallowing the end of your moan in a surprisingly sweet kiss, his lips gentle against yours as he slows to a stop before you become too sensitive.
Your voice is a quiet murmur against his lips. “How have you not cum yet?”
His eyes squeeze into a smile as he laughs, light and bright, the sound so sweet. “I've got stamina for days, darling,” he says, oozing that trademark arrogance you’ve gotten used to.
You clench as hard as you can around him and feel smug when he bites off a shocked curse, his smug facade broken. You can’t help but laugh at his expression, scandalised at it is, though your giggle cuts into a gasp when he pinches one of your nipples and then soothes it with his thumb. He seems amused by the look on your face and then laughs in turn, the two of you dissolving into laughter that’s edged with pleasure, your motions shifting his length inside you.
When the laughter trails off, Jimin stays smiling down at you. You draw your hands over his body, tracing all that smooth skin, and he touches the back of your hands with gentle fingers. There's a beat of silence but it's not an uncomfortable one, the air light after your shared giggles. It's… really nice. It's nice and soft and sweet, just like the expression on Jimin's face, tender, even if he's still buried inside you.
You feel so empty when he slips out, already missing the thickness of his cock when it seems as though he’s about to coax you to roll onto your front. Your hands are still linked with his and you tighten your fingers, making him pause.
“I want to see your face,” you confess quietly. It’s probably too much to ask of him but you feel like if you’re turned away from each other then you’ll feel like nothing more than a fucktoy. Just another warm body in Jimin’s bed. You don’t want that.
Jimin stares at you, surprise written across his features before his expression softens. 
"Okay, baby," he murmurs indulgently. The small pet name sounds so sweet in his mouth. "We can stay like this."
He lets your hands go so that he can reach for a pillow that ends settled under your ass, tilting your hips up towards him. You’re not as flexible as he is—maybe you should start doing yoga too—but Jimin doesn’t push you far, hitching your legs up and draping your calves over his shoulders, leaning towards you so that the back of your thighs are warm against his chest. He's bent forward, face hovering above yours, so much skin-on-skin contact that your entire body feels warmed by him.
When he slides back in, you can feel the change in angle immediately. The head of his cock brushes over your g-spot and you suck in a sharp breath; Jimin notices, of course, aiming to hit it again, and again.
It feels good, of course. Amazing. But as much as you’d be happy for Jimin to make you cum again, you’d rather see him fall apart. 
You dig your nails into his shoulder blades, turning your head so you can press kisses along the line of his jaw, murmuring into his ear.
“Are you going to let me see you cum?” 
Jimin’s hips stutter as your words curl out of your mouth, warm against his skin. You’ve been picturing Park Jimin’s o-face for an endless amount of weeks and you’re ready to finally see the real thing.
“Cum on me,” you say, and then choke in a sob of air as Jimin responds with a sharp snap of his hips. “I want you to cum on me, Jimin, please.”
Your begging is shameless and you know it. Jimin’s face is so close to yours in this position and you can see how blown his pupils are, how his mouth is flushed from your kisses and how he’s been biting at them, his teeth digging into his lip as he starts to get faster, sloppier in his thrusts. It feels so good to know that you’re making him feel like this, that he’s reaching the peak of his pleasure with his body against yours, inside you, above you; he might have had other people in this position in the past, but right now it’s you who’s making Park Jimin come apart. 
You urge him onwards with large, pleading eyes, rocking down on his cock each time he thrusts forward, begging the whole time. Pleading for him to cum, to give it to you, to cover you. Jimin obviously likes you loud and desperate, and you're more than willing to give him what he wants.
He slips out of you, fumbling with the condom and carelessly tossing it aside before he starts to pump his cock, hungry to reach his peak as he fucks into his fist. You let your legs fall open as you watch the way his body tenses, his brows drawn together and little breaths falling out of his mouth, barely audible over the wet slide of his cock in his hand. You run your hands over your body, across the swell of your breasts, down your stomach, dipping between your legs, trying to look as arousing as possible, anything to throw Jimin over the edge.
"I've imagined you cumming for months," you confess, words thoughtlessly falling from your lips. "On me, inside me, in my mouth—"
Park Jimin’s o-face is just as gorgeous as the rest of him.
You love how noisy he is. He paints your stomach with his cum, ropes of white spattering across the soft skin of your stomach and hips as he rides out his orgasm, moaning as he continues to milk his twitching cock. It’s so fucking hot, honestly, as is the expression on his face when you swipe your fingers through his cum and lift it to your lips, mouth filled with salt and warm.
“Fuck.” He’s breathless, panting. “You’re unbelievable.”
You let out a small scoff, but it’s edged with affection. “Says the man who was ready to fuck me six ways to Sunday,” you say. “If anyone’s the unbelievable one here, it’s you.”
“I can last longer, but you’re just so hot,” Jimin says. You respond by curling your fingers at him, beckoning him towards you, and you end up sharing a series of messy kisses. 
You were, honestly, genuinely angry when you'd stepped into his apartment earlier, even if that irritation had been rounded out with arousal and desire. Now, though, you feel thoroughly boneless and content, loose limbed on Jimin's mattress, his lips and tongue moving against your own.
He leans too far forwards and smears his own cooling cum against his stomach. He doesn’t seem bothered, though. You’re the one who has to coax him to clean up, though with the way he looks at your still naked body, you know he would happily launch straight into a second round of fucking so he can add more cum to the canvas of your skin.
He really is insatiable, apparently, when it comes to you.
Even so, you wonder if Jimin’s going to kick you out now that he’s finally had a taste of you. He doesn't. He keeps you close, your body pressed against his side in a way that feels far more intimate than you would have expected.
“Are you hungry?” Jimin breaks the soft silence.
You’ve been trailing nonsensical patterns over his chest but pause when he says this. “Hm?”
“Are you hungry?” Jimin repeats, and there’s a cheeky smile flickering at the edge of his lips. “I have some more peaches in the fridge, if you’d like one.”
“That peach.” Your voice is an embarrassed hiss and your cheeks burn, but Jimin just laughs, boyish and bright as you slap halfheartedly at him. “That was just unfair. Who eats fruit like that?”
“Someone who’s trying to make it obvious that he’s imagining the peach is his neighbour’s pussy instead.” He’s so brazen. “And it clearly worked, didn’t it?”
It had worked. It's annoyingly effective, actually; thinking about the way Jimin had been staring at you as he tongue fucked that peach has arousal shooting through you, even after being so thoroughly fucked by him.
“Yeah, now you’ve had me,” you say. “What do you plan to do next?”
Jimin goes quiet. You wonder if you’ve misstepped, but then he sweeps his hand down the curve of your spine, goosebumps appearing in the wake of his touch.
“I was planning on asking if you wanted to go out for lunch,” he says, his voice so sweet, miles away from the fuckboy persona he usually puts on. This is the softer Park Jimin that you’ve caught glimpses of when he’s unaware, the side of him you wished he’d show more often—revealed to you, now. “Then, if you said yes, I was going to take you out on a date. If that date went well, then I was going to ask if you’d like to go on another one with me. And then another.”
One thing you know about Park Jimin is this: he doesn’t do dates. Each of his lays are one time affairs, no attachments made, no real connection beyond the physical act of sex. Your heart rate picks up.
“Obviously we’d fuck between dates,” he adds, raising his eyebrows at you in a way that’s so exaggerated that it makes you laugh. Of course. Jimin likes to fuck. “Unless you didn’t want to, but there are only so many peaches I can eat, you know?”
“So if I said I didn't want to fuck, and you ran out of peaches, what would you do?” 
Your question seems casual and light but Jimin isn't stupid. He knows what you're really asking. Is he genuinely interested in something more exclusive, or would you just become another notch in his bedpost if he grew tired of waiting for you to spread your legs again?
"I can always buy more peaches."
You stare at him. He's looking at you levelly, a small smile on his face that's a little cocky but mostly warm. And, well, you know he's already gone without other partners for you, even before he'd gotten you in his bed. Park Jimin is serious about you, it seems. He'll wait.
You mouth at his collarbones, tasting the salt of sweat as you kiss and lick at his skin.
"After lunch, we can go back to my apartment, if you want," you whisper against his throat.
Just because Jimin's willing to wait doesn't mean you're going to force him to, especially as you're still as hungry for him as he is for you. 
His hands squeeze your sides as you end up kissing again. You feel soft and ripe and sweet, easing under the touch of Jimin's hands and mouth.
"I still think you're a fucking menace, though," you add, and Jimin laughs so hard the bed shakes, still utterly unrepentant and entirely yours.
--
taglist: @beyoncesdragon​ 
3K notes · View notes
randomoutsiders · 10 months ago
Note
Can we get some more marauders brat taming the reader 🥺
warnings/content: james potter x reader, marauders x fem!reader, small daddy!kink a bit of degradation, nipple play, elucidation to short!reader, mentions of fingering, penetrative sex, swearing, brat taming
mention of murder (just read), mentions of insecurity/hesitation. EVERYTHING IS CONSENSUAL
“C’mere, we’re learning something new today.” James is standing above you, looming over your seated figure with his open palm outstretched for your taking. 
“I just finished classes though.” You reply, curling your feet underneath your bottom before suckling at the tip of your thumb. 
“Not that kind of learning, babe. Come on. I’m not gonna ask again.” 
“I don’t wanna.” Your argument slips from your tongue in a perturbed drawl but you rise from the vermillion couch nonetheless. 
Although you’re still learning - evidently with the continuance of ‘lessons’ from the boys - you’re getting a bit better at mellowing out the temper that causes you to defy James when he’s supposed to be in control. Both Sirius and Remus have installed a sense of submission inside you when it comes to the daunting 6’1 boy before you. 
“Stop fucking whining, y’brat.” James seethes, pressing a palm to the dip of your spine at the bottom of your back to lull you toward the arched exit of the common room. 
“Isn’t the-” 
“And stop asking questions. S’not your place.” James cuts you off before you have the chance to inquire about your implied whereabouts. “We’ll get there when we get there. Otherwise, I don’t wanna see your lips move.” 
“They’re gonna move when I fucking breathe.” You snap back, crossing your arms over your chest with the witty remark. Your feet are laden with begrudging discontent as you stumble after James to the Room of Requirement. 
Your boyfriend takes great care in not responding, for he’s learned that in doing so, he’s only adding fuel to the momentous, searing fire that is your incompetency with compliance. 
When he has to momentarily leave your side to gain access into the room, it’s as though he’s set an alarm, for your lips are quickly downturning in a morose expression at his departure. “Jamesie!” 
He’s not supposed to leave your side.
“What?” His response is thick with mock irritation as he pushes open the door for you, allowing your entrance. 
“I-” Any complaints are slipping off your tongue and cascading into a slovenly pile at your feet. 
Before you, lounging languidly atop the king-sized mattress, are both Remus and Sirius, and the mere sight of them has the dial of your heart rate turned up to the max, whether with anticipation or arousal, you’re unaware. 
“Y’gonna finish that sentence, or are you gonna sit there, blubbering like a fish?” Sirius is the first to speak as you freeze in your spot. 
James is on your right as you slink backward, your e/c irises growing in size as you curl your left arm through the space between his bicep and torso, tethering yourself to him. With a subtle step backward, you’re subconsciously hiding behind his broad shoulder, burying your nose in his scapula. 
“Why are you so shy all of a sudden?” Remus laughs as James pulls his arm from your tight grip so that he can push you forward into the basking light of the room. 
“Well, James said-” 
“Hey-” There’s a snapping of his fingers to get your attention. “Not his fucking name. Try again.” 
You roll your eyes with a disgruntled sigh as you shift your weight from one foot to another. “Well, Daddy said there was a lesson and now that you’re here, I dunno what it’s supposed to be because Daddy says I’ve been bad-” 
“You’ve been bad?” Remus raises a dark brow as he rises from the plush white comforter, his lanky legs unfurling so he can stalk over in your general direction.
“No-” 
“Honesty, please.” 
“... yes.” 
“Alright, guess s’really time to learn a lesson then, isn’t it?” Remus comes to a stop a few inches in front of you, crossing his arms in an illustration of dominance. 
When you don’t respond, your lips merely parted in a look of surprise for how utterly blunt Remus is being, James scoffs, pressing you forward and therefore forcing you to take a step forward. “Yes, it is. C’mon then, take off y’clothes before I do it myself, and then we can get started.” 
Trepidation is coursing with such fervor through your veins you’re sure that it’s as if you’ve taken a line of cocaine and you’re coasting along a metaphorical course where your only destination is chaos. 
You’re quick in your efforts to undress with their impending gaze, your heart thrumming with tense anticipation behind your ribcage. “So pretty.” Is the first compliment that you’ve ever heard from Sirius as he adjusts himself on the great mattress. 
“What do you say?” James queries as he aids in your endeavors, fingers making quick work your tie to get it off your neck. 
“Thank you.” Your answer is muddled with frustration as a warmth taints the apples of your cheeks, your body now bare for the three males. 
“C’mon then, get on the mattress. There’s a little step on the side f’you t’get up.” Remus’ baritone drawl descends down into a delicate intimacy that lulls you forward, prompting you to push yourself onto the mattress. 
“C’mere, baby.” Sirius coos quietly, hooking his hands under your arms to pull you up onto the bed. 
“Hey. Paws off, Pads. She’s mine.” James chides with feigned animosity, traipsing over with his hands shoved deep inside his pockets. The action is quite contradictory to the jealousy that quirks his lips upward in a sly grin. 
“Not right now she’s not. You’re my little cum slut, aren’t you, baby?” Sirius coos, although his voice is dripping with insincerity and patronization while you get comfortable on your back.
“Hmm,” Comes your response as he dips down, his polished lips slipping quietly over the gentle curvature of your breasts, the soft cushion of his tongue slipping out to smooth over the pebbled arch of your right nipple. 
Every slight touch is delicate; dainty. It’s so feather-light that you can feel yourself subconsciously extending into his touch; wordlessly asking for more. 
“Y’want it, baby? Y’want it?” James coos quietly, ignoring the desperate whines that are slipping from your tongue with Sirius’ taunting. He’s between your spread thighs while he stands, his palms rubbing along the expanse of the inside of your thighs. 
“Hold on, wait a minute.” Remus splays a steady palm against your thigh, anchoring you while simultaneously pulling the attention of the two boys. “Y’don’t even know what we’re doing.” 
“Figured we’d just... go for it?” The end of the bespectacled boy’s question lilts up as if asking for permission. 
“Today’s lesson is... edging.” 
“No.” You shoot up, eyes narrowing in discontent at the mere utterance of the concept. 
“I’m sorry,” Remus’ head cocks to the side as his lips push together in a mocking pout. “I don’t seem to remember when I gave you the right to an opinion in this. I do remember that not being a limit at all when we went over the rules. If anything, you were quite excited to use it.” 
“But-” 
“Don’t be a fucking brat and say no just because you wanna cum. Use your words and tell me if you’re okay with it.”
There are a few, tense seconds, thick with anticipation before you answer. “...Y-Yes. I-I’m okay with it.” 
“Okay, then, Prongs, y’ready?” Sirius questions, sliding in behind you so that your back is pressed firmly against his broad chest and his hands can lock around the back of your knees to ensure your lack of mobility. 
“’Course I am. Gonna make my pretty girl beg for it, aren’t I?” James’ position between your legs allows his calloused fingertips to slide up the curvature of your bent limb, the crescent moon of his fingernails dragging crimson trails along the delicate flesh. 
“Don’t wanna.” You simper, lips pursed in an aggravated pout as you twitch with desperation. 
“Don’t care what you want.” James’ fingers turn to then pinch at the overstimulated flesh, thus tugging at your vocal cords with such fervor that you’re crying out and twisting away from his grip. 
But Sirius’ rough grip on your appendage prevents you from doing so, and you’re forced to merely roll your hips to gain a sliver of the friction you’re silently begging for. 
“Don’t feed into it, James.” Remus chides, sitting down beside Sirius so he can curl his fingers through your hair, tangling the long digits through the messy locks and securing you in your spot. 
James, at that, purses his lips and instead focuses on dragging the pad of his thumb through your folds to give you but a mere taste of what you’re getting tonight. 
“Jamesie please.” 
“Don’t be so pathetic.” Remus purrs, and although the drawl of his tone carries the semblance of sincerity, he’s tantalizing you as he reaches down, twisting one of your swollen nipples between his thumb and forefinger and twisting. “You’ll get his cock when it’s your time.” 
“But I want my time to be now!” 
“Hush.” Once again, Remus’ tone is quiet as he pinches harder, not permitting himself to succumb to your incessant whining. 
James dips down, the plush cushion of his soft red lips searing a line of fire along your navel as he travels downward, the pillowy muscle of his tongue soothing the heat with each rough kiss.
Although your legs are restricted with the rough hold Sirius has on you, you’re dragging your hips up and down in useless up-and-down movements; your futile attempts to coax his searing lips closer to your pulsing heat. 
“Fuck that.” Remus’ growl is unexpected as he suddenly moves forward, his large hand nearly slamming against your lower abdomen to anchor you to the mattress. “Stop fucking moving or else you’re gonna get slapped.” 
“Can I do it, then?” James asks, pulling himself to his full height so he can rid of his slacks. 
“Of course you can, mate. She’s your girlfriend, is she not?” 
“With the way you all fucking use me, you’d think I was all of yours.”
There’s a sudden pain that blossoms against your rouging cheek at the sudden slap that James delivers across your cheek and you’re tugging impishly at your restraints, your fingernails digging angry indents into the rippling muscle of Sirius’ thick thighs. 
“Watch your fucking tongue.” James snarls, his temper worn so thin it’s as though you can see the irate flame of anger that churns behind the blue hue of his dark irises. 
“Atta boy.” Sirius beams, an impish grin tugging at the corner of his lips at the sudden demonstration of dominance. “That’s how you do it.” 
You groan blearily, blinking away the tears that are weighing down your bottom lashes. Sirius bends down to smear a kiss to the crown of your head in a subtle reminder that you can stop any time you want to. James hadn’t slapped you that hard, but it carried enough force to wordlessly tell you to find your place as a submissive. 
Your eyelids are heavy with lethargy as James shuffles his cock out of his slacks, the weight of it sitting in the brunt of his palm. He tilts his head downward, spitting to lubricate the length of it before he shuffles forward. 
“‘M sorry I had to do that princess, but you’re gonna be good f’me, aren’t you? Y’gonna take my cock like a good girl?” 
There are a few beats of tense silence as you contemplate your answer. “Yes, Daddy. Gonna be good.” 
While lubricating his length with his saliva, his chin dips down in a subtle nod of approval. “Alright then, alright. Take it.” 
Your lips part in the effort to retort, but James’ quick, abrupt movements to fill up the warmth of your cunt until he’s filled to the brim inside you and you can feel him flush against your abdomen. “Oh, fuck.” 
“Don’t be crass. Pretty girls like you shouldn’t use such language.” Sirius trills, dragging a forefinger along the delicate curvature of your clavicle before it dips into the hollow between your collarbones. 
There he toys with the nerve so easily as James sets a steady pace, the thick shaft of his cock dragging along the smooth ridges of your inner walls. 
“Y’alright if I play with her tits, mate? Can’t fucking help it, look at ‘em.” Sirius groans, hands twitching around their locked position around the backs of your thighs. 
“Yeah. Go right ahead.” James affirms, grappling onto your legs so his friend doesn’t have to and is able to knead at your breasts instead. 
“No. Hold on.” 
James' pace is unrelenting as he glances up at the freckled male with an inquisitory glint pearling over his cerulean optics. “What, you’re gonna make me fucking stop? No fucking-” 
“No. Sirius.” Remus dismisses the bespectacled boy’s perturbation with but a simple waggle of his fingers as he pushes away Sirius’ hands.
“What are you going on about?” 
“They’re mine. You get to fucking watch her from there, and I get to play with her tits.” 
“They’re mine!” You snap back with needless agitation, attempting to squirm away. “Daddy, tell them they’re not allowed-” 
“They’re allowed to do whatever they please. And they’re not your tits, they’re mine. Use y’fucking head, you stupid thing.” The brunet croons, reaching down to thumb over your clit as Remus leans in. 
There’s an impending pressure that sears along your belly with every rough thrust. 
“’M not stupid.” You blubber, your head lolling off to the side with languid tenacity, the cords in your muscles pulled taught with the strenuous efforts of keeping this difficult position. 
“Yes you are,” Your boyfriend muses, plump lips lilting up in a satirical grin as he reaches over to thumb over your bottom lip, to which you suckle into your mouth and allow the warmth to bleed over the smooth muscle of your tongue. “My dumb lil’ bimbo, huh? Daddy’s little bimbo?” 
“No!” You garble around the large digit, fingers detaching from their spot around Sirius’ thighs to curl around James’ wrist. 
“Don’t talk like that.” Remus purrs, leaning down to pull an engorged nipple between his lips. “If you wanna be treated like a big girl, y’have to use your big girl words. What do you want?” 
“I dunno.” 
“Can’t help you if you don’t know what you want.” Remus trills, dragging his bottom row of teeth over the oversensitized bud until shocks of rapture are sizzling down every individual vertebra until they tendril in a raging inferno at the base of your spine. 
“Wanna cum.” You mewl, squirming as you’re forced to hold back the shockwaves of exaltation that threaten to boil over the surface. 
“No.” 
But that’s only beginning, for this is only the first time he slips out of the warmth of your cunt to leave you empty. 
And then it happens once more when he throws you over his lap and gets you right over that border with but the quick scissoring of his fingers, pulling you closer to the edge with every delicate brush of his fingers against your g-spot.
And once more when James allows Remus to get a taste. When he draws lackadaisical letters against your throbbing clit while Remus laps at your folds like this is his first meal in years. 
Feeling benevolent for his mates - not quite for you - he even permits Sirius to take you from behind, your cheek rubbed raw with abrasions from the rough material of the comforter as he pushes your face into it.
This is but the fourth time they’ve tugged you to the precipice and dangled you over the figurative cliff with sly smirks curling at their plump lips as they watch you flounder for air. 
It’s as though they’ve submerged you in an ascending crescendo of pleasure that seems to twinge with the guile of patronization. 
“C’mon, pup. Lemme hear it.” Sirius seethes, perspiration pearling at his temples and slicking back his raven tresses with a strength you’re too blearily to even fathom. 
“S-So good. So good.” 
“That’s right, isn’t it? ‘M not even your Daddy and ‘m making you blubber like a little cock whore, hm?” 
James is squatting beside you, the calloused pads of his fingers teasing the surface of your heated cheeks as he tucks away strands of hair that seem to stick to your cheeks with the onslaught of tears that taint them. 
“You’re so pathetic.” Although the words are cruel, taunting, James’ head cocks to the side as if feigning sympathy; empathy for your affliction. For the live wire that seems to snap without control in your abdomen. 
“Hmmm..” Is your dull response as you cry out, Sirius' large palms melding hand-shaped bruises into your hips as he pounds into you with heightened fervor. 
“Y’wanna cum?”
“Please!” 
James looks to his scarred friend for approval, as if he is your boyfriend. 
“No.”
“W-Want it so bad, please!”
“You’ll get it later. Your lesson is to learn what happens when you’re a brat. You feel the pain now to learn your lesson for later.”
“FUCK!” You sob, finding it tenfold difficult to deal with the pleasure that seems to surge through every trembling appendage. 
“And for that,” There’s another rough snap of Sirius’ hips against your own. “Remus gets a turn with you after this.” 
Remus snorts with laughter as he languidly tugs at his throbbing member. “I’m not just gonna have a turn with her Pads. I’m gonna fucking ruin her.”
James’ lips downturn with an indiscernible sympathy. “She’s really not gonna cum tonight?”
“Y’see Jamesie,” Remus smiles at the boy. “If y’really wanna train her, y’gotta fuck the brat outta her. And sometimes that means edging her until she looks like...”  There’s a pause. “Well.. this. A fucking cockwhore.”
“A cockwhore, hmm?”
“Say it, princess. Tell us what you are.” Sirius laughs, finding great amusement with your suffering. 
“A c-cockwhore.” 
TAGLIST: @james-potter-simp  @nicodoesntexist @siriusblacks-bitch  @adhara  @stiffsockz  @trickylittlewitch   @a9283  @plzineedhelp  @sokkas-socks  @anggraenirhj  @sambucky8  @hollandary  @deansdeliciouspies  @mentally-in-northern-italy  @maravderofthephoenix  @blackpinkdolan  @anyasthoughts  @florenceivy  @harrys-girl-almighty  @savingprivatecass  @astmelie  @thotbutpurple  @heavenly-bratt  @accio-rogers  @sarcasticallywitty15  @psychkunox  @totallyjovialblaze @wonderful-writer @asuperconfusedgirl @playgirl1  @hoeartchoke @figlia–della–luna @tinylumpiaa @lvpinsmoons @damonwhitlock @avengersassemblee @siriusblklftv @thatslovelymoony @pinkwhorecrux @milkshakelol @cecile-sucks @mullthingsoverinthehotwater @quindolyn @st0nesnglitter @marauderssimpthings  @emmaev @lilymurphy03 @weasleyposts @carrotjoe @limerenze @zzzfour @maraudersgirlxx @pinkandblueblurbs @amixedwitch @3in1shampooconditionerbodywash @memissbee @bluemoony11227 @auroraboringalis57 @wonderlandhatter @snoopydoop1 @buuchie @ohgodidontwannabehere @kittykylax @spxllcxstxr @ss-stilinski @susanaleitao510 @gxtitobxby @l-adysansa @weasleywhore07 @amourtentiaa @ronsbadidea @simp027 @maraudersbiitch @maraudersgirlxx @serrendipiity  @artemisheavenlupin @irlpadfoot @acosmis-t @fific7 @susanaleitao510 @eimaneighyiae @malfoymanwhore @everythingunderthestarss @ayla1605 @ramenticizing @not2nightsatan @hoeforthemarauders @tacobacoyeet @a9283 @rileyloves5 @asimpfortheweasleys @tugabooos @ambi-doo12 @sw33tgirl
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sukirichi · 8 months ago
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Imagine Naoya coming home a little bruised and is staggering. Forgetting etiquette and manners, you run towards him and helps him then POOF, Naoya turns into a child.
Getting Shoko to check him up and cue to Gojo laughing his ass off at Naoya's state to which you were a little irritated—no, you were ready to break Gojo's legs if it weren't for his infinity.
Maybe an hour later or the next day, little Naoya wakes up. To your surprise, he's so cute and innocent, staring at you with wide eyes, looking so lost.
crying. yes my heart is soft, i am in love. thank you so much for this, i really loved writing it and writing naoya always comforts me. thank you for making my day 💕
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# soft naoya hours
# part of the trophy wife collection 
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Three hours. That’s how much time has passed since Naoya promised he’d come home. It had been three dreadful hours, and your husband still wasn’t home.
The servants have grown weary of watching you pace back and forth, your perfectly manicured nails chipped down from nibbling on it too much. He’ll be fine, they reassured, it’s Naoya-sama, he’ll come home safely. It’s not that you didn’t trust in his abilities – hell, you experienced his skills in speed and strength firsthand way too many times in bed before to know he’ll come out mostly unscathed – but he promised he’d be home three hours ago, and your husband never broke his promises.
Naoya himself knew better than not to keep his word. With you as his wife, he’s not worried you’ll nag or give him the cold shoulder should he come late since you’re perfectly content being submissive and meek, but the way you worry for him.
You always fret so much for him – not because he’s not capable of taking care of himself – but because you can’t handle the thought of losing him that if anything happens to him, you’ll quickly get rid of your trophy wife title in the blink of an eye and release the powers you’ve kept dormant since your marriage. Safe to say, you’re always so worried for him that he feels bad about it. It would’ve been better if you screamed at him at least once, but you’re too quiet, too gentle, that your perturbation manifests in anxious glances, endless pouting, and cold, trembling hands that he doesn’t have it in himself to make you worry any further.
But if such was the case, where was he?
The storm is unforgiving outside. Thunder erupts and claps even at the sturdy roofs of the Zen’in Estate, the lights blinking every now and then with each roar that wouldn’t simmer down to pit-pattering murmurs. Every now and then, lightning would illuminate the gardens outside, and still, not a sight of Naoya.
A few minutes later, just when you’re quite sure you’ve dug deep into the floorings from your endless pacing, your husband appears.
Bruises littered his face and neck, staggering forwards as he clutches his bicep. His feline eyes run across the room for a moment, the servants shock still upon seeing their master heavily wounded – and then there’s you.
He feels you before he sees you. Setting aside all etiquettes and manners drilled into your head that is becoming of the clan head’s wife, you lunge yourself into his arms. His pained groans and whimpers are heard, verbal protests absent. Softly, Naoya buries his cut cheeks into the crook of your neck as you quite literally lose it and cry as you pull him closer, almost muted whispers sorry I’m late disappearing into your silken robes.
You shake your head and fret over him once more, gesturing to the servants to get him a towel, call the healers and just do something. At your sudden commands, the servants come back to life and rush in all directions. Naoya begins to breathe heavily the further he weakens and you try to steady him, his eyes drooping close when – POOF!
Your husband shrunk.
Arms frozen in the air in the shape of Naoya’s figure, you stare wide-eyed onto the now crying child below you.
Blood and bruises are still matted on his skin, his clothes, his hair – and he’s peering up at you, small, chubby arms extended as his sobs grow louder.
“Oh, baby,” you coo and pick him up, not wasting another minute before you dial Shoko, cradling the tiny, vulnerable human that is now clinging to your robes like his life depended on it.
Unsurprisingly, Naoya hates it.
The moment Shoko arrives – along with goddamn Gojo Satoru who’s been taking pictures of a hissing red-cheeked Naoya, his chaotic howling painting the walls of the infirmary – Naoya refuses to leave your side. He doesn’t even want to be set down on the reclining bed where Shoko is supposed to take a look at him. He bares his tiny fangs to the healer at all times, glaring heatedly at the white-haired sorcerer behind you.
You’re strong – you know you are – and breaking Satoru’s legs really wouldn’t be difficult. But as if sensing your hostility – which is always expected every time people even looked at Naoya wrongly – the idiot (who wasn’t so stupid right now) had activated his Infinity.
“I can’t undo it,” Shoko announces with a frown, “He must’ve picked up the curse somewhere when he weakened, but I’ve already healed his previous injuries. The stress probably let the curse manifest as well. It should wear off soon enough if he’s feeling better.”
“So he’ll turn back to normal?”
“Yes, of course,” Shoko’s smirk was mysterious. “With you as his wife, I’m sure he’ll revert back to normal quickly. Just keep taking care of him. He needs it now more than ever.”
The pair leaves not long afterwards, though not without Satoru forwarding you images of a young Naoya whose wide eyes were crystallized with annoyed tears. You hate to admit it, but he’s really adorable. That’s not your main focus though, and you immediately retreat back to your room where you wrap Naoya around your coats before settling him on the pillows.
His cheeks are round and glistening with tears, lips pouty and chubby fingers clutching your sleeves. It’s so rare to see him this vulnerable, so open, that your heart melts.
You scoot closer to him and pat his back as you sing lullabies, your lips hovering just about the soft tuft of blond hair. He yelps when another set of thunder booms like an explosion and he cries, head buried in your chest as he listens to the lulling sound of your heartbeat. It breaks your heart that he’s this unguarded, so exposed to everything that you do everything you can to comfort him, wiping his tears away with the pads of your thumb.
Singing a little louder to hopefully silence the storm, you let his cries dwindle down, the grip on your clothes loosening as he slowly falls into slumber.
“You’re safe, Naoya,” you promise, “I’ll never let anything happen to you. You’re safe now.”
The exhaustion of today’s events finally catches up to you, and it doesn’t take long before your eyes are falling as well. You dream of nothing that night, only stirring every now and then in the dead hours of the night to make sure you’re not crushing him with your weight (you’re a messy sleeper.) Thankfully, he’s fast asleep, breathing evenly and cheeks bouncing every time he huffed out from whatever he’s witnessing in dreamland.
You wake up hours later when you’re pulled into a warm, solid chest. Large, calloused hands brush over your exposed collarbones from when your clothes had ridden down in your sleep, and you freeze in his arms, about to turn and stir, to litter him with kisses but Naoya merely cages you in his arms.
“Naoya,” you croak out, almost shyly since you’re squished between his muscles that are somehow still so flawless despite his scars. “Your breakfast…let me prepare it for you. You need to heal.”
“Just a little bit longer,” his deep, morning husky voice resonates through the tranquility of the morning, and he pulls you closer with his bicep before he finally lets you pull away, his eyes nothing but soft and adoring as he smiles at you. “Let me be with you a little longer.”
You don’t know why you cried, but it’s definitely tears of happiness as you playfully pound a fist to his chest. “Silly. I’m not going anywhere. ‘Til death do us part, remember?”
“Hmm,” he nods once, “I’m not going anywhere either. And even if I leave for a bit to save the world, I’ll always find my way back home to you.”
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voltagesmutter · a year ago
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Obey Me x Heat
Obey Me - Diavolo Head-canon.
Prompt: ‘I’m in heat’
Warning: NSFW, Female MC, Priest Kink.
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Diavolo:
‘Beast in heat’ is named after Diavolo. The whole of devildom prepares for his heat due it’s length, almost a month long.
The first signs of his heat about to start is he’s incredibly sensitive to smell, his nose buried in the locks of your hair, your skin or even your clothes if you're not around. He will wait outside the shower for you, hands all over your body just to savour your scent as he licks the trickling water droplets from your skin. The second is he always has bedroom eyes, even across a crowded room he can find you with one glance, shooting you that look. Lust in a glossy wax beneath half-lidded eyes meets yours, sending tingles down your spine and directly to yours core, knowing exactly what he plans on doing to you the minute you're alone. The third, and most obvious, is his sex-drive. He is hard constantly, waiting for any given moment to pounce you. 
“Diavolo, here?” You whisper, not putting up much protest as his fingers push past the band of your panties to stroke your wet folds. “Hush little one, no-one will interrupt us if you keep quiet,” He whispers back between kisses to your mouth, his teeth taking your lower lip and giving it a sharp tug as he pushes a finger inside you. You moan in response, gripping onto the collar of his RAD uniform, spreading your legs slightly so he can add another finger. The ruler of demons woke up alone in bed on the first day of heat, storming out to RAD to find you and whisk you away, no one daring to question the mighty ruler as he pulled you into a empty meeting room and locking the door. Three fingers stretching you, your hand wrapped around his thickness already leaking with pre-cum. Pushing you down on the table, fingers pulled from you as he pulled your panties down your legs until they hung off one ankle. His hands gripping your ankles and pull you to the edge, spreading your legs wide and a thrust of his hips has him buried deep inside you. You cry out his name at the sudden thickness inside you, back arching off the table with finger nails scratching lines into it. He felt bigger than normal, pulsing with heat and need inside you as he ruthlessly thrusted into you. He thrusted in, pulled out, thrusted in harder and felt your walls already tremble around him. The foreplay and the sheer size of him bringing you to climax in seconds as you pulsed over him, legs trembling in his hold as he continued to thrust into you. “Shh little one,” He lets out a lowly chuckle to see you so vocal beneath him in such a public area. Freeing one of your ankles he removed your panties, leaning over you and putting them in my mouth in attempt to silence your moans. The grip on your ankles tighten as his pace only picks up, head thrown back in pure bliss as he brings you to climax once more before finding his own. Only instead of slowing after, he continues to thrust, still standing solid and erect inside you. “D-Diavolo!” You whimper, panties soaked from saliva as you try to open your heavy-lidded eyes, unsure if you could take anymore. “One more, I promise just one more,” He whispers, readjusting his grip and removing one hand to circle your clit. Tears falls from the corner of your eyes at the motion, legs shaking violently as the knot inside you tightens again, your third orgasm hitting you as he pounds into you. He thrusts one last time, groaning as he pushes as far as he can inside your squeezing walls to release himself. After a few breathless minutes, Diavolo still standing solid but finally letting you go back to class. He helps sort out your skirt, smirking to see the slick essence of mixed release spilling atop of your thighs thats leaked from out of you. “Now go be a good girl and finish your classes,” Helping to fix your messy hair and flushed face, “I can keep myself busy for a few hours but I’ll come back to find you at lunch, by then I’ll be quiet starving and you are my main meal,”. You walked out of the room, a heavy sigh of relief to see that it was still the first period and no-one would have heard you, or that that you missed much of class. Just as you made it to the room a hand tugs you back, Diavolo pulling you into an embrace, your panties he’d kept shoved in his hand. “I changed my mind, have the day, no the week (it was the month) off, I’m starving now so come back with me and let me have my breakfast in bed,”.
Can be very sadistic when in heat, he loves nothing more to watch you beg to be fucked. Heat is also when he lets his fantasies come to the surface, wanting to indulge in all of them.
“Again” His words sharp and crisp, ringing through the empty chapel.
“I- Forgive me father… I have sinned,” You repeat, unable to see Diavolo as your bent over the service table. 
“And what have you done as such sin?” The feeing of fabric presses against the back of your thighs, the edge of your skirt being pushed up to expose your laced underwear.
“I had- devious thoughts about you, dirty thoughts, lustful thoughts, sinful thoughts,” You reply, breath hitching to feel his hand curve around the globe of your ass.
“And what do you deem as fitting punishment for these sinful actions, hmm? I think a good spanking would do just fine,” Although asked as a question, it’s a statement.
“Please father,” You whisper, cheek pressed against the flat of the table. 
“Say it properly or you shall receive no help to cleanse your sinful ways,” Words as smooth as the devils bow.
“Spank me father, make me see the error of my ways,” Face glowing to hear the dark chuckle behind you, the palm on you now lifted. The sound of skin on flesh contact followed by a gasp fills the chapel, sharp stinging tingles against your skin. He repeats the action a few more times, each time growing in pleasure rather than pain and before soon your mewling at each one.
“This is supposed to be punishment little one,” He hums in disapproval, his other hand slipping under your underwear to trace along your slip, a low growl to feel you so wet.
“I-“ You start but cut off into a moan, two slender fingers thrusting inside you and twisting, sending your mind blank. He continues to curl his fingers grazing over the sponge patch inside you as he spanks you once more, the sensation matching your thighs tremble as you pant heavily.
“D-Diavolo please,” You whisper, needing more, the aching of needing to be filled with something bigger taking over you.
“Tch, do you forget who you speak to?” He teases, slowing his fingering movement, a teasing slap to the side of your ass that made your skin wobble.
“Father- please… please,” You whine, hands grasping the community sewn cloth beneath you. 
“Please what? I do not understand what you need,” He twists his wrist and you cry out in pleasure, unable to hold in the noises as your eyes screw shut.
“Fuck me, fuck me farther please. Please please, fuck me I need you so bad,” You beg, feeling heat within your stomach rise and tighten. Fingers removed causing a heavy whine from your throat, panties pulled down until they drop at your ankles, your knees wedged further apart by his thigh as you feel his erection pressing against your ass. A small trail of wetness presses against your cheek from his leaking cock, slightly ragged breath as he strokes himself to the glistening on your core in front of him, ready and dripping to be filled. He gives it a few more sharp slaps, humming in appreciation to see a slight mark of a red-hand print forming on your skin.
“Fuck me, please, however you want,” You whimper, trying to raise your ass as an offering to press his head against your core, “Please, please just fuck me-“. You don’t finish the last of the sentence, Diavolo grabbing your hips and mercilessly thrusting into you, fucking you to a greater level of pleasure upon the alter of the empty church. He repents your sins whilst adding a thousand more to the list as he brings you to multiple climaxes in ways that would make his own father blush. “Oh god-” You wither, body curling over as the pressure inside you builds more, tears falling freely like a streaming river. A raspy chuckle followed by the sound of intense sound of slapping skin, you’d came so much already each time he thrusted out and back in wetness collected atop of the altar before dripping onto the floor in a shiny puddle, “God can’t save you now little one, there is only me,”. The devil indeed fucking you to mind-numbing overstimulation.
Something primal is released within him to see your core dripping with his essence. 
“Keep them spread for me,” He coo’s, pushing your trembling thighs apart. “Diavolo… no more please,” You whimper, clit twitching at the air hitting you. Your body ached slightly, muscles set alight from the sheer intensity of Diavolos' heat this evening as he had taken you to the brink of insanity with the sheer amount of orgasms you had had. Over-sensitive wasn’t even close to how you felt. “It’s okay,” He reassures you, taking two fingers to spread your folds, eyes a blaze to see the beady white leaking from out of you, “Just stay like that,”. Still in demon form, his champagne orbs glow, fixated on the sight before him. He nestles between your spread thighs, taking his spare hand to jerk himself off to the sight. His hips bucking, growls spewing from his mouth as his eye’s never leave your velvety fold. The sight is self is purely erotic as you watch with beneath your thick lashes, it can’t help but make you wet, gloss of liquid dripping from you spurring him on more to see you aroused at his actions. You call his name, taking one finger to slowly circle your clit, over sensitivity and hips spasming at the first touch. You whimper highly and it takes only a few circles to bring yourself to climax, his earlier releases flooding from you as you pulse over nothing. He ravels at the sight, groaning louder and louder with his twist of his wrist, before finding his release, pushing the head of his cock against your dripping folds and coaxing them once more. 
Lucifer and Beel - Heat
Satan and Leviathan - Heat
Mammon and Asmodeus - Heat
Belphegor -Heat
Obey Me - Masterlist
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trueshellz · 3 months ago
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Day 19: Kuroo + dirty talk
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Previous day | MASTERLIST | Next day
Warnings: female reader, phone sex, dirty talk, masturbation (f and m solo), pet names (kitten, pretty girl, baby)
Summary: The long distance relationship struggles are real...
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A small jump as your phone rang, the noise way too loud in your empty apartment, especially since your animated and chatty boyfriend was away with the team he was managing. Glancing down at the phone as seeing his cute face on the caller ID as you picked it up, climbing on the bed just as he picked up, his voice echoing down the line.
"Hi, kitten."
"Hey Tetsu... how was the flight? Have you eaten?"
Small conversation at first, yes he had eaten, no he was not sharing a room with Bokuto, yes the flight was OK and no he hadn't forgotten to iron his shirt. You could hear the faint noise in the background, Bokuto and Hinata shouting over a match of some sort while Atsumu cheered them on, you couldn't hear Sakusa or Oliver but imagined them both glaring at their loud teammates. Kuroo's laugh echoing as he left the room, Shugo shouting in the background at the team, the voices getting quieter as you heard the door click on the other end of the phone.
"You should have stayed with your friends."
"I'd rather hear your pretty voice, kitten."
You could feel your skin heat, shuffling down under the covers as you heard him chuckle. A beep in your ear as he switched his video on, the sign for you to do the same. His chiseled body on screen, tight abs and sharp v-line leading down to, what you knew to be, a long cock. His hair messy as usual, black hair tousled as he taken off his shirt and threw it on the bed. You watched him lay on the bed and sling an arm over his head, biceps tightening as he did so.
"I still can't get used to this..."
Another chuckle, lower this time as he sent you a wink. "It's ok. Just do what you're comfortable with, ok?" Seeing you nod, he smiled again before you saw his hand disappear, a hum as you imagined his hand over his dick.
Taking a deep breath, you slipped your hand into your sleeping shorts, fingers meeting your slick folds as your legs flopped open. This happened all the time, you were embarassed at first even though you were the one who had suggested this, remembering how excited you were until you got to the deed.
"You wet already?" You nodded. "Good girl. You look so pretty baby, I miss ya so much. Fuck, baby. You got me so hard ya know that? Just have to hear you voice and literally can't stop myself, 'ts why I had to excuse myself earlier. Can't be sitting there with a hard on in front of my friends, can I?"
You huffed a laugh, remembering the last time you turned the camera on to show him your new lingerie set. A yelp leaving his mouth as he cut the phone, apologising via message and calling you later when he was alone. A groan making you smile, Kuroo had his head dropped back as he stroked himself, a small sheen of sweat on his chest as it heaved.
"Fuck, baby. You touching that little clit for me? Hmm? Bet you're so wet too, huh? Imagining your sweet pussy around my dick as you ride me, tits bouncing so pretty for me. Don't hold back, kitten. You know I love the pretty sounds you make, goes straight to my dick."
Biting your lip, you let yourself sink into the moment and talk back to him, seeing a small grin on his face as you told him how wet you were and how much you missed his fingers inside you. Yours couldn't reach deep enough like his did, back arching as you imagined his long fingers curling inside you as he finger fucked you. Forcing your eyes open as you heard him cum, a low groan from his mouth as white ropes spurted on his chest and stomach. The image making your pussy clench as you remembered how he looked over you, the same face as he held himself inside and filled you up.
"C'mon, pretty girl. Let me hear those pretty moans for me ok? Wanna hear you fall apart for me, kitten."
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kookskingdom · 9 months ago
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the broken hearts club | jhs (m)
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summary: through a series of extremely unfortunate events, yonsei university’s broken hearts club now has two members: you and resident bad boy jung hoseok. a deal is struck and you both come to an agreement: fake date and get back at your cheating exes without getting close to each other. there’s just one problem though: you may have fallen for him in the process. badboy! au, college!au, fakedating!au
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title: the broken hearts club
pairings: bad boy! hoseok x quiet girl!female reader
genre: angst, smut, fluff, college au, bad boy au, fake dating au
word count: 19,831 words exactly, i’m so sorry hbdfbha
warnings: NOT SAFE FOR RAMADAN, fluff, smut, angst, pwp stands for porn with plot in this case bc there’s smut but you have to go through the plot first hdsghag, language, BRACE YOURSELVES hoseok is a little bit of a dick in this one, being cheated on by (my own) ocs, toxic relationships on both the reader and hoseok’s end (but not with each other!), yes this takes place in the same universe as electric love!taehyung but after he gets his girl, kissing, dom!hoseok, fsub!reader, fvirgin!reader, biting, hickies and the process of making them, (m!receiving) hair pulling, breast play, (f!receiving) oral, (f!receiving) fingering, orgasm denial, (f!receiving) multiple orgasms, hoseok wraps it before he taps it so this is protected sex fajhdf, scratching, shared orgasms, my shitty attempt at angst, an ambiguous ending WooOooOoOOOo
❂ The Room of Restraints ⁂ Hosted by: professor valerie (@kookdiaries) through @bangtansorciere ⤐  AU Type: Harness (Bad Boy) ⤐  Themes: First Time Sex, Passionate Sex ⤐  Kinks: biting, scratching, hickies, breast play, orgasm denial
rating: 18+ for language, sexual content
songs to listen to: you can find the playlist here! <3
a/n: dhbasfkh this bih is not edited and ,,, i really flew solo on this one :’)) i hope you enjoy regardless <33
disclaimer: the amazing banner and divider are made by @kookdiaries !! the writing and plot of this fic are my own, please do not plagiarize thank you!!
thanks to: @kookdiaries, valerie you absolute ANGEL!! thank you again for making the header and divider, it fits the vibe so perfectly :’)) and thank you especially for making a banner during your own house games jabhdfbhf i appreciate you so much thank you :’)) and special thanks to ate ryen!! @kithtaehyung​ you’re the best for reading this fic five minutes before it’s due, an actual superhero. you’re the best i love you so much :’))
tags: @btsarmy9593​
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Well, this was the absolute last place you expected to be standing at during your lunch break, but here you are, gracing the library table that is widely known by the student body as the unofficial meeting spot for Yonsei University’s Broken Hearts Club.
And boy, you were not excited for this one.
You hesitantly extend your hand towards the backing of a chair, wondering to yourself if you really count as broken-hearted because, yeah, you’re going through some intense emotional problems right now but your heart isn’t completely broken, it’s just kind of...cracked right now.
“Well isn’t this sad, ____.” you murmur to yourself as you give in and pull out the chair, plopping yourself down onto the hard plastic and setting your backpack on the table. You pull open your laptop and boot it up, humming to yourself to try and keep the tears from welling up in your eyes. “May as well get some work done, I guess.”
You can practically feel the waves of pity from other strangers passing by as you bow your head over your laptop, typing furiously. No one ever really went to the Broken Hearts Club’s table unless the situation was really messy, and even then the situations were easily fixed. The last time someone was here it was your acquaintance Taehyung, and he was lamenting over his best friend not liking him back before they went and fell in love because of a TikTok challenge or whatever.
Hmm, maybe that would solve all of your problems. What TikTok challenges could you even do?
You grimace when you realize that the most recent TikTok trend was some sexy dance and a cringe-y lip sync video, so you decide to just shelve that strategy until the cool kids of TikTok come up with something else.
Well, you shouldn’t be thinking about it now. You have too many papers to write and nothing, not even the images that have been seared into your brain will stop you from getting the best grades you can possibly get.
Why then, can you not get the images out of your head?
You glance at your literature paper, shaking your head and tilting the top of the laptop down so the screen doesn’t blind you before rubbing at your temples. You feel the tight knot in your chest return with an ugly vengeance and you gulp, already sensing the burn of salty tears fill your vision. You cross your arms on the table and bury your head into the crooks of your elbows before exhaling deeply, not bothering to stop the messy flow of tears and snot down your face as you’re forced to relive the torturous images of your now ex-boyfriend tangled in between the sheets of your bed with his psychology classmate.
You honestly had no idea where it went wrong. Sungho was one of the first people who pulled you out of your shell when you started at Yonsei, being your guide around the campus and establishing a steady companionship until he awkwardly asked you out on a date. One date turned into three, three dates turned into drunken making out, and the next thing you knew you were dating. You both made each other happy, well, as happy as you could make each other with your demanding school schedules and work.
You guess it wasn’t enough.
Pull it together, ____! You mentally scold yourself as you try to desperately collect your emotions. Stop crying and suck it up!
It’s only when you hear audible gasps and the sound of clicking heels approaching the chair opposite you do you look up, and you feel your eyes widen comically at who’s standing before you.
Jung Hoseok.
It’s well known that Jung Hoseok has an aura surrounding him that makes him intimidating. You don’t know whether it’s the fact that he’s double majoring with a minor in something, he’s almost ridiculously good looking, or that he doesn’t smile towards anyone under any circumstances but it’s enough to make rumors about him swirl around the whole of the campus, giving him the official title of “bad boy.”
So it came as a shock (and tragedy for the female population) when everyone found out he was dating Park Eunji, the school’s it girl. The couple radiated power, charisma, literally everything that a power couple would emit. It was also with Eunji that Hoseok would crack just the tiniest of grins, and that in itself made everyone know it was the real deal.
Well, as real as it was until something horrible happened. Eunji was no longer seen with Hoseok wherever he went, and he went back to that stony facade everyone knew. It happened so abruptly, there were rumors as to what happened but no one knows for sure.
You watch as Hoseok settles himself into the chair opposite you without sparing you another glance, pulling out his own laptop and headphones. You feel questions begin to pop into your mind but you keep your mouth shut, not wanting to disturb him.
Soon enough though, the curiosity of his situation gets the better of you and you glance up at him, where he’s deeply engrossed in whatever he’s studying. You clear your throat quietly, trying to get his attention but when that doesn’t work you decide to speak to him.
“So, uh...what brings you here?” At the sound of your voice his head shoots up, and he gives you an annoyed glance as he does a once over glance over your entire face. His steely eyes and frowning lips have you shivering, and you find yourself shrinking back against the backing of your chair.
“Why do you need to know?” He all but snaps at you, and you feel yourself deflate at his irked tone.
“Well,” you meekly begin. “You’re at the Broken Hearts table...I figured something horrible happened.”
Hoseok’s face twists into a sour expression and he purses his lips. “Why does it matter to you? For all you know I could have just had a one night stand turned ugly. What even happened to you, huh? Your goody two shoes boyfriend missed an important date or something?”
You bite your lip, hurt rippling throughout your chest at his sarcastic tone. You can see the tiniest sliver of regret shine in Hoseok’s eyes, though, and you know he’s picked up on the fact that he hurt you.
“Wrong, actually,” you murmur back softly. “He cheated on me. I saw him in my bed with one of his psychology classmates.”
Hoseok’s eyes soften at this, and the lightest splotches of red begin to appear on his neck which lets you know of his immediate embarrassment and regret of snapping back at you. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” you shrug back. “I never knew who he cheated on me with, it happened so suddenly. One second I was in my flat wanting to share noodles with him, next thing I knew I was crying into the pot alone while drinking the broth.”
The corner of his mouth twitches at this before it straightens back out into its signature straight line. “You cried into a pot of noodles?”
You nod at his statement and he snorts. “That sounds kind of fake, no offense.”
You feel the smallest of grins make an appearance at the disbelief in his voice. “I admit, not my best moment. He actually came back to get her fancy ‘I see ghosts’ sweatshirt, something she had left over without me realizing so he got to see me cry into a spicy pot of ramyeon. I tried to play it off as the spice of the noodles but we both knew the real cause. That was embarrassing.”
You return back to your laptop after this, thinking the conversation done and over with. What you fail to see, however, is the widening of his eyes and the way his face pales at your words.
“Hey…what was your name again?”
“____,” you reply, not looking up from the sentence you’re typing. “What’s up?”
“Could you look at something for me? I wanna see if this is what you saw.” You peer at him and he opens his phone, pulling something up before sliding it over to you. You grasp it in your hands and look at the screen, not expecting something of importance.
You feel your blood run cold, though, at the picture you see.
Because it’s Eunji sitting in front of Hoseok at a restaurant, laughing into a milkshake and wearing the exact sweater you saw Sungho pick up from your apartment later that day. You also recognize the hair...the tousled, messy yet perfect waves she always had her hair making you realize that there was a chance that the person Sungho cheated on you was Eunji.
You swallow thickly, looking at Hoseok’s forehead rather than the intense stare he has you under. “That’s definitely the sweater...when was this taken?”
“The past weekend, on Saturday,” he states. “The next day one of my best friends showed me pictures of her leaving the club with a stranger, holding hands and kissing. I broke up with her after that.”
“Saturday was when I saw Sungho in bed with his classmate,” you reply, your brain trying and failing to keep up with this sudden avalanche of information. “Could this mean what I think it means?”
You finally stare back at Hoseok, and you watch as the light of recognition appears in his eyes.
“Sungho cheated on you with Eunji and she cheated on me with Sungho,” he says, voice filled with nothing but surety.
Silence fills the space between you two, as you both process the information that you had just deduced. It made sense though, and you’re suddenly flashing back to all the times when Sungho would ditch dates to meet with his psychology classmate. Thinking back to those moments is making your heart pang with pain, though, so you decide to not think about it further.
You instead look up at Hoseok, where you see the gears in his head turning. While he’s deep in thought, you can’t help but admire just how handsome he is; the slope of his nose delicately scrunched at the tip as he thinks of something, the furrow of his eyebrow, the sharpness of his jaw. And even while sitting there, he exudes so much charisma and confidence it’s a wonder you haven’t melted into a puddle yet.
You can’t let him affect you like that, though. He would surely break your heart in an instant if you let him.
His head suddenly tilts up to look up at you and you let out an embarrassed squeak, ducking your head down to pretend as if you weren’t ogling at him. You hear him begin to talk to you when all of a sudden, an alarm on your phone beeps. You glance down and gasp when you register that you have to start packing in order to make it to your next lecture.
“I’m really sorry,” you say, swiftly gathering your belongings and hugging your laptop to your chest. “About everything that happened with Eunji. She’s honestly dumb for cheating on you and you deserve way better, but I’m glad you got some closure as to what happened.”
“Hey, can I-” he begins to say, but you’re putting on your earbuds and giving him a small smile and cheesy thumbs up before you can hear what he has to say to you.
And before he can even blink, you’re striding out of the library.
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You don’t return to the library for another two weeks, not wanting to sit at the Broken Hearts table due to the fact that you didn’t want to be seen there, but also partly because you found yourself sitting at the cafeteria because you forgot to pack your lunch. Soon enough though, you find yourself sitting back down at the Broken Hearts table. You felt a little bit better, but the cracks in your heart have never really mended and you know you could use a little bit more support.
It’s been a solitary process, but that doesn’t mean no one hasn’t been reaching out to support you. Taehyung had sat down next to you in the one class you shared and introduced you to his friend named Jimin as well as his girlfriend, and you rapidly became friends with all of them. It was nice having their company and lunches had been filled with lots of laughter but for today you just wanted the peace in the quiet, hence the decision to sit at the Broken Hearts table.
You pull your laptop out of your bag, forgoing the decision to study and deciding on watching a movie. You pull up Netflix and scroll through your saved library, trying to decide on the genre you want to watch when you suddenly hear the chair in front of you being pulled out.
Your head shoots up, wondering who could be sitting at the table with you and gasping noisily when you realize it’s Hoseok. He gives you a small nod in acknowledgement while you openly gawk at him, but you snap your jaw shut and instead give him back a meek wave.
Well, there goes your movie watch party. You can’t bring yourself to focus with his close proximity, mind racing with so many questions as to why he’s here again. Maybe he needed the support too?
You get your answer when a hand makes contact with the top of your laptop, tilting the screen down and making you pay attention to the person sitting across from you. You yelp, pulling your fingers away from your laptop to prevent the tips from getting crushed and Hoseok flashes you a small smirk in response.
“I was watching something,” you scoff in a joking manner.
He raises an eyebrow at you and you feel your flush at the expression.
“Okay, so I was looking at the moving YouTube thumbnails but in my defense, they were pretty entertaining!”
He blinks once at this, and you feel a flustered feeling begin to overtake you. “Okay, so it was actually Netflix-”
“It’s okay, ____.” Hoseok interrupts, flashing you the smallest glimpse of dimple. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something.”
“About what?” you ask, lifting back up the lid of your laptop. You pout at him when he closes your laptop again.
“I want to have your attention when I ask you this,” Hoseok quips back. “I have an idea and I want you to be a part of it.”
You look at him in confusion. “Like...a school project or something?”
He shakes his head. “No, let’s fake date and get back at our exes.”
A beat passes as you process his words.
You burst out laughing at his words, loud giggles erupting from your mouth as you laugh at the sheer hilarity of his proposition. You, fake dating him? To get back at your exes? What kind of plan was that?
Your giggles slowly taper off and you wipe tears away from your eyes as you catch your breath, grinning widely at an unsmiling Hoseok. “Nice joke, buddy! I needed that laugh, thanks for that!”
“I wasn’t joking,” he responds back coolly.
The smile promptly drops from your face at that statement, and you shake your head at him. “Sorry, but no.”
“I think it’s a really good plan!” He counters, staring at you head on. You feel yourself shrink at his heated stare and yet, you can’t bring yourself to look away. “It’ll be an opportunity to hurt them back. Don’t you want to get back at them?”
You bite your lip and avert your eyes from his gaze, trying to process the thoughts currently racing through your head. Sure, there was an ache in your chest and seeing Sungho on campus hurt like hell but the last thing you wanted was to put yourself in a situation where your heart was at risk again. 
You couldn’t afford another heartbreak.
“I’m sorry,” you reply, looking back at him. “I’m sure it would have been a fantastic plan and I would’ve really loved to help you out but I can’t be put in another situation where my heart’s at risk. I’m sure you’re a great guy but...I don’t know if I can trust you.”
“That’s understandable,” he agrees, and you’re colored surprised when you hear the soft tone in his voice. “You must’ve loved Sungho a lot. Eunji and I were never compatible to begin with...a lot of what everyone saw was for show.”
You feel a surge of sadness at this, not able to imagine being in a loveless relationship. You open your mouth to apologize to him but he stops you, holding up a hand.
“I know what you’re gonna say, and it’s okay. I’d still really like to do this plan and fake date you.”
“How can I know I can trust you?” You counter back.
He purses his lips at this, deep in thought. You tap your fingers on the desk, waiting for his answer.
“My nickname is Hobi. Only my family and really close friends are allowed to use it,” he says, and you hear nothing but sincerity and the slightest bit of fondness in his voice.
You feel a smile form as the admission of his nickname. “That’s really cute.”
He lets out a scoff that sounds suspiciously close to a chuckle, but then you feel his demeanor become more serious. “I’m telling you this because I’m giving you permission to use it. Eunji wasn’t allowed to, but I’m letting you.”
You have to physically hold your mouth shut at his words, but before you can object he continues on, eyes holding nothing but seriousness and truth. “And I swear I will end things as soon as you get uncomfortable. One word from you and I’ll stop, I won’t hurt you. And you won’t get any romantic feelings from me, only friendship. Nothing else, I promise that to you, ____.”
You purse your lips at this. You can hear the truth in his voice and you know you can trust him, it was just scary to think about the repercussions if things went horribly wrong.
The promise of being the one able to stop it at any time has you leaning towards yes, though. The thought of being in control, or being able to stop if you got uncomfortable was enough to have you thinking that yeah, maybe this was a good plan. Looking back at the way Sungho would brush you off, the way he would dismiss your thoughts, when he would leave you in the middle of dates...you never realize how much he hurt you until he did, and that in itself was shitty of him to do with you. Ire grows in your being at your past treatment, and it’s in that moment you’re sure of your decision.
Maybe it’s time you gave him a taste of his own medicine.
“I’ll do it.” The words leave your mouth before you can even think, and Hoseok’s eyes widen in surprise.
“Really?” He asks in disbelief. “You’ll do it?”
“Yes,” you confirm. You feel confidence surge through your veins and you look back at him, feeling the hesitation dissipate from your body and leaving nothing but surety at your decision. “No feelings except friendship, and I get to call off if I get uncomfortable. Got it?”
You hold out your hand, offering it to Hoseok to shake on it and seal the deal. He glances from your hand to your face before he nods, grasping your palm firmly and shaking twice before letting go.
“Yes ma’am.”
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You expect something to change, for something new to begin between you and Hoseok, but for the past week or so it’s been uneventful. A text here and there, a quick conversation about basic information so that if the opportunity does arise to get back at them you two won’t be fishing for facts, but other than that? Nothing much.
So it comes as a surprise when a couple of weeks later, you hear someone walking up behind you on your way to your literature class. You quickly whirl around, ready to pepper spray the shit out of someone if necessary but not at all prepared to see Hoseok standing in all of his handsome glory, hair ruffled from the wind and brandishing a cup of...something and a small paper bag. You feel your eyes wander, though, over to his hands. His fingers are adorned with rings and there’s a small bracelet that looks like it costs your entire college tuition, but you find yourself doubling back on his fingers because how in the world can hands be pretty?
You suddenly realize that your thoughts are gonna go down a different, needier path if you keep walking in that direction so you fix your sight back on his face. Hoseok, however, is under whatever same trance you were in because his eyes are slowly traveling your face. You watch as his lips slowly curve up into a soft smirk and his eyes glint with something unknown, and you feel your cheeks begin to flush under his heated stare.
You’ll decide later if it’s embarrassment or want.
“Hoseok!” you say, gaining his attention. His eyes snap back up at you and he gives you a small wink before thrusting the paper bag in your direction.
“Here, ____,” he says in lieu of a greeting, shaking the bag in a bid for you to take it. You do as he wants, grasping the bag and opening it to find an egg and cheese croissant. You feel your stomach swoon slightly at his gesture and you grin up at him.
“Thanks!” you chirp happily, holding the sandwich in between the paper and taking a bite.
“No problem,” he replies easily. “You mentioned you had back to back classes and that you don’t get to eat lunch during this time, so I thought I would buy you something.”
You feel yourself flush at his words, heart singing at his kindness. “Thanks, Hoseok.”
“You can call me Hobi,” he reminds you. He then flashes you his signature smirk, eyes glinting with mischief. “And my reasoning is partly selfish. Eunji has a class nearby, let me walk you?” He asks.
You laugh at his statement and nod, quickly falling by his side, though you walk slightly ahead as to not completely scream to anyone passing that you’re dating Jung Hoseok. He notices this and quickens his pace so he’s by your side, and you groan.
“What?” he asks, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Can’t I walk my fake girlfriend to class?”
“Oh shush, Jung,” you grumble, though you can’t help but smile when he lets out a short laugh.
You expect the walk to be uncomfortable, but you instead find it to be filled with an amicable peace between the both of you. You ask each other about classes while you finish your sandwich, and you soon find yourself standing in front of the building that houses your literature class.
“Well, this is me,” you say, walking towards the steps before turning back and standing away from him so you can look up at his face. “Thanks for walking me to cla-”
“Jung Hoseok!”
You feel your stomach drop at the voice, and you turn your head to see Eunji marching over to you two with Sungho in tow. Both look equal levels of pissed and you swallow, looking back at Hoseok in panic. His eyes are like steel, glaring daggers at the pair but when he sees your panicked face his gaze softens and he levels his eyes on you, mouthing, “Let me take care of it.”
You nod in response and he pulls you by his side. His hand drops to your waist and his hand squeezes your hip out of comfort. You relish in the comfort, your own hand settling on top of his and giving a squeeze of your own.
Eunji and Sungho soon stand in front of you, the former glaring daggers at you. “What is this?” she exclaims, gesturing wildly to you two.
“Don’t look so bewildered, Eunji,” Hoseok responds, and you can practically hear the eyeroll in his voice. “This is a relationship, and you’re looking at my baby girl. This is ____, my lovely girlfriend.”
It’s clear that everyone in the immediate vicinity as well as those around the four of you are caught off guard by this. Sungho’s neck turns red at an alarming rate and you hear gasps echo noisily from the students who are trying to not make it obvious that they’re eavesdropping.
You, however, are in for the biggest shock. Baby girl. Where did he even come up with that nickname? You find that you don’t dislike it though...it’s actually quite the opposite. You find him wanting to say it again, and you can’t help the small zip of electricity that travels up your spine at the thought of him calling you that pet name again.
Eunji sputters at this, and for the first time in all the years you’ve seen her keep her composure you see it slip, showing just how nasty she is. She inhales sharply before delivering her next attack: “This is just a one night stand or whatever, right?”
Hoseok scoffs at this, looking down at you. You’re determined not to look at anyone out of fear of giving the whole act away, though, so you stare at the stairs of the building behind their heads.
“No, we’re dating. Can you not tell?” Hoseok deadpans, and despite feeling like you’re about to throw up out of nervousness you can’t help but let out a small laugh. Eunji casts her frigid stare onto you at this and you freeze, body seizing up.
“Dating my current boyfriend’s sad little ex, huh?” she sneers, and you can’t help but feel a pang in your chest at that. “Must’ve been really desperate there, Hoseok.”
“Nope,” he replies easily. “She’s been treating me better than you would ever treat me, Eunji. And I know for a damn fact I’m treating her better than the dumbass standing next to you.”
“Don’t call me a dumbass!” Sungho snaps.
“Then stop being one, simple as that,” Hoseok shoots back easily. You internally cheer at his clapback and Sungho sputters, clearly flustered at Hoseok’s clear burn.
Sungho instead decides to focus his attention on you, and you feel yourself shrink back into his side at his intense glare. “You’re really dating this piece of shit, ____?”
You feel Hoseok jolt forward at the insult but you place a palm on his chest, stopping him in his tracks. You glare at Sungho, who’s eyes widen in surprise at this new image of you so...angry.
“Don’t call my boyfriend a piece of shit,” you snap. Eunji opens her mouth to shoot back but you glare at her too, and she shrinks back in surprise. “And you, stay out of your business...though that must be hard for you, huh?”
Before you can even think, you’re taking Hoseok’s hand and dragging him towards the building, leaving Eunji and Sungho in your dust.
Caught up in your anger, you don’t register that you’re on the leveled part of the staircase until Hoseok yanks you back, making you stop in your tracks. You turn back and blink back in surprise, but you feel your heart swoon at the sight before you.
Because he’s smiling, not one of the half smirks he gives you or his signature scowl. You instead see a flash of the sweetest grin you’ve ever seen, and you wish you could just see more of that from him. It’s like watching the sun rise; bright, and filled with beauty.
Just as soon as it comes, however, it goes. Hoseok stops smiling as soon as you make eye contact with him, and he instead replaces it with a half smirk. You pout a little, wanting to see more of his smile and he quirks an eyebrow at the pleading face you give him.
“What?” He asks, not quite angry, but not quite friendly either. He went from loving boyfriend to an acquaintance so quick that it gives you whiplash, and you remember that it’s not worth falling for him because this relationship has an expiration date.
So you shake off the tiny ache in your heart and squash the butterflies in your stomach, shrugging and replying, “Nothing.” This seems to work for the most part, though Hoseok’s eyes still hold a glint of confusion. He looks at you for a moment before shaking his head.
“You did great out there, fake girlfriend,” he says, a blank sort of approval coloring his tone. You smile back, ignoring the slight sinking in your chest at his words.
“You too, fake boyfriend,” you tease back, trying to lighten the mood between you two. The clock tower on campus signals the beginning of the new hour and your eyes widen when you register you’ll be late for your class. You make a move to pull away from him but before he lets you leave completely, Hoseok pulls your hand up to his face and brushes the lightest kiss over your knuckles, so soft that you barely feel it.
“Have a good class, baby girl.” He turns and leaves before you can even register his words, and when you finally do he’s down the stairs, turning back one more time and giving you a wave before walking off.
Now alone, you can’t help the smile that stretches across your face, nor can you not ignore the butterflies flying around in your stomach.
You’re practically guaranteeing your own doom for starting to have feelings for Hoseok.
So why does it feel like your heart is beginning to heal?
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After that small fiasco, the days pass by in relative quiet. You’ll get the occasional “What is it like dating Hoseok?” from a random classmate- hell, even Taehyung’s girlfriend asks you but the most you can give is the smallest smile, blushing profusely before changing the conversation.
One thing that does change is your dynamic with Hoseok, you don’t know if it’s because of what happened or because he’s slowly warming up to you, but you and him begin talking more on the daily, whether on texts or late night phone calls. Sometimes you’ll pull each other up on video call, not talking and just studying for whatever material you both need to accomplish. Other times he’ll come over to your apartment, wearing sweats and carrying takeout where you two will study into the wee hours of the morning, not a single word passing by you two.
In those instances, it feels like he’s detached and that the relationship is the beginning of a friendship at best. Yeah, sometimes you two will talk about something random but for the most part it’s professional. It has the same feeling as working on a partner project in a class. You’ll crack jokes here and there, talk business, and work together before going your separate ways and maybe if you’re lucky you’ll bump into each other in the book store. It’s odd, but it’s one of the dynamics you and Hoseok just naturally fell into.
It’s a little bit of a different story on campus, though. He’s brighter, grinning small grins down at you while walking you from place to place and putting on a fantastic show for all of the student body to see. He’ll even show up with the egg and cheese croissant you’ve come to love so much, walking you to class and kissing your hand in the same manner he did the first time. This dynamic has slowly grown to be your favorite, but you’re lucky if you get to even see this side of Hoseok maybe once a week.
Which is a shame, really. You want more of this Hoseok, the one who you can almost call your own.
You know that this deal with Hoseok has its expiration date though. Even though Eunji and Sungho would shoot you and Hoseok periodic glares whenever you two pass by them, they’ve largely just ignored the both of you. You have this odd feeling in the pit of your stomach like they were planning something- or at least Eunji was planning something, but in the current time period you can’t bring yourself to care.
The months pass by slowly and before you even realize it, it’s the month of midterms. You’re as busy as ever, just waiting for the onslaught of tests to end so you can sleep, but you’re so overloaded on schoolwork it feels like you’re drowning.
It’s on one of your study sessions when Hoseok calls you. Your phone is face down on your desk as you squint at your computer screen, but the buzzing pulls you out of your stupor. You grab your phone, reading his contact before sliding your thumb across the screen and picking up the call.
“Hey Hoseok, what’s up?” you ask, wedging your phone between your ear and shoulder while you continue typing on your computer.
“Get dressed, we’re going somewhere,” he says in lieu of a greeting. His voice sounds static-y, like he’s driving and you feel your eyebrows raise at this.
“Eyes on the road, Jung!” you say, standing up and stretching slightly to the side to ease the ache of your back. “And what makes you think I’ll go out when you ask? I have to study, there’s a lot to do.”
“I’m not asking, ____. I’m making you. I know you’ve been studying all day and you need to get away from your computer screen.”
You bite your lip, excitement building at the prospect of getting away from your apartment but wanting to play coy. “What if I don’t have anything to wear?”
“Easy,” he replies, and you can hear him use his turn signal. “I’ll let you borrow one of my jackets, I have one in my car. Now will you get ready?”
“Yeah yeah,” you concede, walking over to your bedroom and pulling out leggings to replace the shorts you were wearing and socks for the chunky black boots you love. “How far away are you?
“Like...five minutes?” he guesses, and you feel your eyes practically bug out at his estimation.
“Five minutes?! Jung, you could’ve given a girl some warning!” You exclaim, rushing to pick out a jacket. You hear the tires screech through the phone and you yelp at the sound. “Drive properly, Hoseok!”
“Sorry baby girl, some idiot cut me off and I had to speed up a little so they couldn’t see when I flipped them off,” he replies.
You sputter at his usage of the pet name. “Hoseok!” you exclaim.
You hear a sound that sounds suspiciously close to a chuckle before he clears his throat. The teasing lilt of his voice still remains, though. “What, cat got baby girl’s tongue?”
“Why you- just drive safe idiot,” you grumble, ending the call before you can hear his chuckle. You put on your leggings and tug your jacket over your tank top before grabbing your purse and socks, making your way back to your living room and sitting down to pull your socks onto your feet.
A knock on the door signals his arrival and you jump up, slinging the strap of your purse over your shoulder and opening the door to find Hoseok holding a jean jacket in his grasp. Before you can even blink he’s shoving the jacket into your arms and saying, “I said you could borrow this so I’m letting you borrow it, put it on!”
You blink owlishly at him as your brain processes the words and when you finally get the memo you shrug off the jacket you were wearing in favor of the one he had given you. You take a moment to look at the light wash, smiling when you see the white stars adorning the sleeves and noting the way it hangs loosely over your frame. You begin to say your thanks to Hoseok but when you look up, you notice he has an odd look on his face as he looks at you. His lips are slightly ajar, eyes holding a sort of warm emotion you’ve never seen before and you find yourself blushing under his stare.
“What?” you ask, wrapping your arms around your body shyly. He registers your voice and gulps, shaking his head and when he glances back at you his face is back to that blank state you’re always accustomed to.
“Nothing,” he replies gruffly, though his voice wavers slightly at the end of the word. “Let’s go.”
You nod and you both walk out the door, locking up behind the two of you before making your way to his car. You make a move to open the passenger seat but Hoseok beats you to it, opening the door and gesturing with a wave of his hand to go inside.
“Thanks!” you say, sliding into the passenger seat and placing your bag on the floor of his car. He nods once before closing the door, making his way to the driver’s seat and getting into the car as well.
He soon pulls out of the parking spot, driving in the direction of campus. An awkward silence falls between the two of you because while you two have spent a lot of time on video calls together, you never actually spent time with each other. You would ask each other the occasional question, but that was it. Nothing more, nothing less.
Well, until now.
Stuck in your thoughts, you barely register where you are until Hoseok pulls into a parking spot. You snap out of your head and look outside, surprised to see that you’re on campus. Hoseok shuts off the engine and slides out of the car, making his way over to your side and opening the car door for you. You get out with a word of thanks and, after locking the doors, you both walk out of the main garage and onto the pathway that leads to campus.
The walk is silent, and you fidget awkwardly until your curiosity gets the better of you and you blurt out, “So, uh...where are we going?”
Hoseok glances at you, quirking an eyebrow at you. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
You sigh, rolling your eyes. “You’re the one who insisted I get away from my laptop and out of my apartment, you could at least tell me where we’re going.”
He gives you a half smirk at this. “You’ll find out when we get there, baby girl.”
Your eyes widen when you hear him use that blasted pet name again and it’s clear he sees the effect it has on you because he grins slyly before walking ahead, leaving you to scramble after him in a sputtering, flustered mess.
After a couple of minutes, you find yourself standing in front of a cafe you had never seen before on campus, the entrance hidden by a bunch of trees. You look at it in interest while Hoseok walks forward, pulling open the door and ushering you inside.
The first thing that envelopes you is the aroma- the bitter, earthy tones of coffee beans being ground that juxtaposes the sweet, fruity aroma of teas. The scent of fresh baked bread adds to the homey atmosphere, and you find yourself relaxing under the comforting presence that the place exudes.
You look around, surprised to find that not a lot of people are occupying the shop. There’s a student sat at the bar by the window, typing away on their laptop with their headphones in while they hurriedly sip at the coffee cup next to them. Other than that, though, it’s you, Hoseok, and the lanky guy behind the register who looks like he’s about to fall asleep.
Hoseok looks at you and grins, gesturing that you follow him with a twitch of his fingers. You nod and follow suit, approaching the cashier. Hoseok counts down from three to one on his fingers, and all of a sudden he slams his hand down on the counter, making the employee jolt awake and you burst into a bunch of giggles at the comedic look on his face.
“Hobi, you absolute bitch,” the guy behind the register seethes, though you can tell that it’s not real anger.
“Namjoon, you knew I had to,” Hoseok replies with an affectionate tone, and you’re surprised to see that the small smile on his face is genuine.
“Yeah yeah, whatever you idiot,” the guy called Namjoon grumbles. He looks over to where you stand by Hoseok and offers you an embarrassed smile, to which you return one of your own. “Hey, welcome! You must be ____, Hobi’s told me a lot about you!”
Well, this is a revelation to you. And judging by the surprise that flits onto Hoseok’s face followed by the rapid reddening of his ears, it’s clear that he wasn’t expecting him to snitch. Regardless, you take it all in a stride and, with a laugh reply, “Only good things, I hope.”
“All good things,” he assures, and he offers you a knowing grin and exaggeratedly whispers, “He thinks you’re quite pretty, you know.”
Now it’s your turn for your face to go red and for Hoseok to sputter at Namjoon’s words, giving him a threatening glare. Namjoon just chuckles, holding up his hands in a joking manner. “All right, that’s enough for me. The usual?”
You look at Hoseok in confusion but he nods. “Make it two and…what drink do you want, ____?”
“Oh...matcha latte if you have it?” you ask Namjoon, and he smiles.
“Luckily for you, I am an expert at whisking matcha powder. I’ll bring your orders out to you two, you can go ahead and sit.”
You smile, pulling your wallet out of your bag and getting ready to give your card to Namjoon when Hoseok stops you, pushing your hand away lightly. “Nope,” he says, pulling out his own card and giving it to Namjoon swiftly. “I’ll pay, my treat.”
“Hoseok-”
“Don’t fight it ____,” Namjoon interjects, handing him back his card. “Just know he’s smitten with you and that this is his way of buttering you up.”
“Don’t make me go behind the counter and kick your ass,” Hoseok says, and you can’t tell if he really means it or not.
“Sorry, can’t hear you over the grinding coffee beans!” Namjoon responds, giving him an overly cheesy smile. “Please go to your seat, I’ll bring your order out soon!”
Hoseok rolls his eyes and grumbles something under his breath, before nodding at you and leading you over to a table in a secluded corner of the shop, nearby a window but far away from curious stares. He pulls the chair out and gestures for you to sit down and you do, expressing your thanks before he goes to sit in the seat opposite of you.
It doesn’t take long for Namjoon to come over with a tray. On top are two croissants, an iced drink, and your matcha latte. He sets everything down and bows in a theatrical way, but he bows too deep and nearly topples into another table. You attempt to stifle back your laughter but Hoseok snorts, rolling his eyes.
“That’s karma, my guy,” Hoseok says.
“You want me to keep telling ____ all the things you told me?” he snips back, but he backs off when Hoseok shoots daggers at him. “Alright, I’m leaving!”
You grin at Hoseok and his rapidly pinking cheeks. “So...what are these things you’re telling Namjoon?”
“Just shut up and take the damn croissant, ____,” Hoseok grumbles.
You grin at him. “Not until you tell me what you’ve been telling Namjoon.”
Hoseok’s eyes widen at this, and the blush returns to his face. You’ve never seen him this...flustered before “If I promise to tell you later, will you just eat the damn croissant?”
You nod, mentally reminding yourself to keep a note of that. “Okay, I’ll leave it alone.”
He visibly relaxes at this, pushing the plate at you. “Take it, this is my favorite croissant from the cafe.”
You accept the plate, glancing down in curiosity. The plate is warm, indicating that the croissant is fresh baked. It’s been cut open and filled with pastry cream alongside strawberries. The top is dusted with powdered sugar and topped with whipped cream, and your mouth waters at sight before you.
You pick up your fork and knife, cutting off a piece and placing it in your mouth, and your eyes widen when the various flavors meet your palette. The tartness of the strawberries balancing the sweetness of the cream has you craving more and you cut off another piece, humming in delight.
You look up, surprised to find Hoseok looking at you with a soft, indescribable expression. Your eyes meet and he coughs awkwardly, averting his eyes and picking up his drink to take a long sip.
You clear your throat, cutting off a piece of your pastry and offering the bite to Hoseok to ease the tension. “Here, take a bite!”
He shakes his head, gesturing to his own pastry. “I’m good, thank you though.”
You squint your eyes at him before wiggling the fork at his lips. “Just give me a bite of yours and we’ll be even, take the bite.”
He scoffs but gives in, gently holding your wrist and pulling your hand closer to his face. He closes his eyes as he bites off the pastry, and you grin when a little bit of the whipped cream gets on the corner of his lips.
Before you can even think, you’re wiping at the small smear and you both freeze when your thumb comes in contact with his lip. You suddenly realize how couple-y you must look; wrist in hand, you wiping at his mouth, leaning close to each other.
You make a move to pull away, but Hoseok has other plans in mind. He takes your fork away from you and instead replaces it with his own hand, sliding his fingers against yours and rubbing his thumb into your palm. The intimate gesture has your stomach flipping, and you find the feelings that have slowly been building for him return full force.
Well, fuck. How are you supposed to continue on without melting into a puddle?
You become your own saving grace by filling the quiet, asking him, “So...if you had a superpower, what power would you have?”
He looks at you in confusion at the almost absurd question, so random given your entire situation. “What, are we playing 21 questions?”
You grin. “In a sense, I wanna get to know the person my fake boyfriend is.”
He concedes to that reasoning. “Sounds good. We’ll play, but no sissy questions, okay? I want weird questions.”
You nod. “I got you.”
And so you spend the entirety of the afternoon with Hoseok holding your hand, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. At one point you shrugged off his jacket so that it rests on the back of your chair and Namjoon returned to fill your drinks and bring another strawberry croissant, but you remain largely unbothered by these distractions as Hoseok asks you what your dream animal hybrid is.
Your questions dwindle down and soon, you’re both down to your final questions. The sun is setting beside the both of you, and you bask in the golden glow it emits around the both of you as you wrack your brain for something to ask Hoseok.
A sudden question pops in your head, but you’re unsure whether you could ask him this. You bite your lips, tapping your nails against the table and Hoseok notices this. “You have a question.”
You nod, turning away slightly. “I don’t know if you’ll answer this one, though.”
Hoseok hums, expression turning thoughtful. “What is it?”
You gulp, bracing yourself for the reaction you might get. “Did you...love Eunji?”
His fingers stiffen against yours and you internally wince when his eyes turn steely, prepared to defend himself. “Why do you wanna know?”
You sigh, shrugging. “You looked really happy on campus whenever you were with her, so I figured she must have made you somewhat happy.”
He snorts at your statement. “No, that was all for show. I always knew that Eunji was fucking around with other men. I was just the idiot that nearly loved her, but I stopped myself before I fell completely in love.”
You look at him curiously at this. “You loved her?”
He shakes his head. “I thought I did. I definitely felt something for her but at the end of the day, she was just using me for clout. I can practically hear her voice now: ‘I tamed the bad boy of campus.’” His voice turns soft. “You helped me get over her though, so thanks for that.”
You smile shyly, shaking your head. “It’s nothing.”
He opens his mouth as if he wants to say something else but he shakes his head, deciding against it. You can see his head wrack for questions and his eyes light up before dimming.
Since he let you ask a personal question, you decide to let him as well. “You can ask, I won’t get mad.”
He exhales, speaking his words in a rush. “Did he make you happy?”
You look at him in confusion. “What did you say?”
Hoseok winces, looking away. “Did Sungho make you happy?”
You gulp as you process his words, and you internally curse when you feel the cracks in your heart return, accompanied by stinging tears. Just thinking about him and the lack of effort put into your last relationship leaves a sour taste in your mouth. Sungho never went out of his way to treat you to strawberry croissants, he never bothered to walk you to class, he was just...there.
It suddenly hits you, how horribly he treated you. So why does it still hurt, why is your heart so cracked? Why was seeing him in bed with Eunji so painful?
“Hey.”
Hoseok’s voice pulls you out of your head, and you find yourself glancing up at him. He’s looking at you with concern, and his fingers flex against yours out of comfort. You don’t even realize that you’re crying until he reaches over, sliding his thumb under your eye and caressing your cheek softly.
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” he says gently. “I’m sorry I asked-”
“He never made me happy,” you interrupt.
Hoseok’s face takes on a sad expression. “He didn’t?”
It’s like a dam inside of you has been released, and you find yourself spilling your emotions out to Hoseok. “He was just there. He was like the moon...distant and cold, and yet I wanted nothing more than to see him. I became attached to him without even knowing it, and I guess I never even realized I was being hurt until I saw him in bed with Eunji. It made my heart crack but...it honestly could have been worse, I guess.”
Hoseok’s eyes flash angrily at this. “Want me to beat him up for you?”
You chuckle. “No, it’s okay. If he had never cheated on me, I never would have never met you and been introduced to this cafe, so I’m thankful for that.”
He rolls his eyes at your statement, but you see the beginnings of a smile show up on his lips. “Only thankful for the cafe?”
“Mmm...yeah. These croissants are gonna be my new fake boyfriend, sorry Hoseok.”
At this he bursts out laughing, and you find yourself caught off guard by the bright sound, but you find yourself laughing along too. His laughter lights up the entire atmosphere around you, filling you with warmth and the desire to hear more of it.
You want Hoseok to smile more, especially around you.
The laughter fades away, but it leaves a happier atmosphere. You sigh, looking at the croissant. “Seriously though, this croissant is so good. I may as well just marry it.”
He chuckles at this, squeezing your hand. “A croissant will never break your heart, huh?”
You nod, eyeing the last bit of the pastry on the plate. “It’ll never break my heart.”
You make a move to get the last bit of croissant but he stops you, pulling at your hand and making you look at him. “What, what is it?” you ask him in confusion.
You glance up and you’re surprised that he suddenly looks nervous, eyes darting back and forth. “This is really sudden,” he says, looking at you head on. “But I wanna promise you something.”
You nod your head, and he takes it as his cue to continue talking. “I want to promise you that I’m never going to break your heart, and that I’ll never hurt you.”
Silence falls between the two of you as you process his words, Hoseok looking at you nervously as you slowly register the gravity of his statement. A soft feeling that you’ve never felt before fills your chest at the words you’ve always wanted to hear, and you find yourself tearing up again for the second time this evening.
Hoseok looks at you in alarm. “Are you crying, did I say something wrong?”
“Nothing, you did nothing wrong!” you reassure him, wiping your tears away. “It’s just...I’ve always wanted someone to say that to me and it makes me so happy that it was you who said it to me, Hobi.”
Hoseok’s eyes widen at your words, and you watch as a smile slowly stretches across his face. You feel the butterflies in your stomach begin to flutter around crazily at the sight of his bright, heart shaped smile and you realize in that instant that you never want Hoseok to stop smiling at you like that.
“I mean every word I said, ____,” he says, bringing the hand that’s in his grasp close to his face. “I’m never gonna hurt you and I’m never going to break your heart.”
You laugh breathlessly, blushing when he kisses the back of your hand, lips lingering against your skin. “And I promise that I’m never going to break your heart or hurt you either, Hobi.”
He pulls away and beams brightly at you and you grin back, feeling the cracks in your heart mend at Hoseok’s promise and beautiful smile.
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After that evening, things change drastically between the two of you.
Hoseok smiles freely, no matter where you are or what you’re doing. Even if it’s just at either of your apartments and you’re studying or you’re on campus walking to class, he will always give you the biggest heart shaped smile and that in itself makes you smile, steadily having you fall for him without you even knowing.
Your days have gotten brighter and for the first time since you saw Sungho cheating on you, you feel whole. Hoseok treats you so well, it actually shocks you how long you managed to have gone without being treated in the way you deserve to be treated. Hoseok genuinely caring for you helped you heal, and you couldn’t be more thankful for that.
From the croissants, to the hand kisses, to even just being beside him, it feels like you’re his and he’s yours, and that nothing could possibly come in between you two and break you up.
Something that became a part of your daily life were your cafe meetings. It became so frequent over the course of the months after midterms that the cafe staff got accustomed to setting your order up at your usual table, because you and him would come through the doors at almost always the same time. He would always drive you home afterwards, and you two would linger in the car for a little bit, not wanting to leave but you ultimately leaving, only for the cycle to repeat the next day.
After months of this pass, you expect that this time would be no different. The car is filled with laughter while the beat of the music steadily flows in his car, his hand never leaving yours. He soon pulls up to your apartment complex and parks in an empty spot, putting the car in park and shutting it off.
You both sit in his car in the parking lot of your apartment building. It’s clear neither one of you wants to leave each other, your hands never leaving each other’s grasps. The car’s atmosphere has gone from a lively, bright atmosphere to something akin to anticipation- both of you are waiting for the undeniable spark between the two of you to start a fire and consume the both of you, it’s just a matter of who’s going to light the flame.
“I had fun tonight, Hobi,” you say, beaming at him. “Thank you for taking me out.”
“No problem at all, ____,” he says back with a smile of his own. “We should do something different next time, I’m worried you’re getting sick of croissants.”
“No way!” You exclaim. “I love those croissants so much, I could never get sick of them.” You bite your lip, pondering something before saying, “We could do a karaoke room, though. I could beat you, easy.”
“Is that so, baby girl?” he asks back in a jokingly challenging tone. You nod vigorously at his question and he smirks, leaning forward. “I don’t think you would be able to beat these pipes.
“I can sing,” you scoff. “You’ll hear it next time.”
“Mhm, sure,” he hums in a teasing way, and you roll your eyes at his sass but at the same time you can’t help but laugh.
You look at the time on the dashboard and feel sadness flit through your body when you realize it’s time to go. You pull your hand away from his and pull your bag onto your shoulder, but then decide to do something daring and totally not you.
You lean over the gear shift, closing your eyes and giving him the softest peck on his cheek before pulling away. You look and see that his eyes are wide, mouth slightly ajar. You blush at your actions, preparing to open the door of his car but he stops you, grabbing hold of your hand again.
“Hobi?” you ask in confusion. You squeak when he pulls you closer to his chest, and your eyes widen when he gently tilts your head to look up at him by tucking a hand under your chin.
“Baby,” he murmurs in a dulcet tone. You feel something beginning to stir in your body, the spark that’s waiting to be stoked into a flame flaring up again.
You don’t know who makes the first move, both of you leaning forward at the same time and capturing each other’s lips in a kiss. The hand under your chin moves down your face to your waist, attempting to pull you closer to him. Your own hands reach up to cup his face, and you can’t help but smile into the kiss. You feel a warm, giddy feeling spread through your veins, slowly getting drunk off of your first kiss with Hoseok.
He pulls away first, and gives you one of the most dazzling smiles, tucking your hair behind your ear. “____, I-”
“Do you wanna come up?” you interrupt him breathlessly, and he laughs, the sweet sound making your heart beat wildly in your chest.
“I thought you would never ask,” he replies cheekily.
On your way to your apartment, he’s the perfect gentleman- except when he presses you up against the wall of the elevator and steals your breath away with a fierce kiss that has you gasping. Even when you step into your room he’s a gentleman, helping you out of your jacket and sliding your flats and his own boots onto the shoe rack by your door.
The moment you step into your bedroom, however, you feel the sweltering heat that was in the space between you two consume your body, washing over your being and leaving you needy for more. Once Hoseok’s kisses start they never stop, his lips never leaving yours as his hands settle on your hips, gently guiding you onto your bed.
Your back lands on your mattress and Hoseok lands on top of you, his mouth leaving yours in favor of pressing kisses trailing from the corner of your lips to your chin. You whine at the feeling, legs spreading and back arching as your arms wind themselves around his neck; completely ready to give yourself to him when given the opportunity. His hands palm at the flesh of your thighs, sliding the skirt of your dress up your thighs and pulling your legs over his narrow hips. This causes the bulge in his pants to rub up against the fabric of your underwear, making you gasp.
He pulls away from your chin, smirking down at you devilishly. “Good, baby girl?”
You shiver at the raspiness of his voice, nodding fervently. He smiles at you for a quick moment before he returns his mouth back onto your jaw, slowly trailing his lips over the expanse before brushing them over the column on your neck. Your fingers tangle into his hair in a bid to ground yourself from the onslaught of pleasure you feel, causing you to accidentally tug on the strands as an accident.
You hear a growl rumble from his chest and you squeak, pulling your fingers away from his hair. His head rises from your neck and he gives you a confused look. “Why’d you pull away?”
You gulp, the already pink flush of your cheeks deepening at your embarrassment. “I thought I hurt you.”
At your admission he smiles softly, bending down and brushing his lips against yours. He pulls away and kisses the space between your eyebrow before saying, “It’s okay, it felt good. I’d let you know if it hurt.”
You nod at his words, though you bite your lip. You still feel unsure, what if you messed it up? What if you end up not being as good as he thought you to be? What if he ends up not enjoying the experienc-
“You’re thinking too much, baby.” His dulcet voice pulls you out of your head, and you look up at him. He gives you a long, languid kiss before pulling away again and looking at you with a serious expression. “If you want to stop, we can. I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
Your heart swells at his thoughtfulness, but the nervous feeling is swept away by the desire burning in your veins. You shake your head and lightly kiss the corner of his lip. “I want this, I’ve just...never done it before.”
His eyes widen at this, a crease forming in between his eyebrows. “Not even with your past relationship?”
You hum at, averting your eyes. “We would make out and I would maybe suck him off but he never made me...you know.”
“Cum?” he asks in disbelief. “That dumbass never made you cum?”
You bite your lip, before sighing deeply. “No,” you admit sheepishly.
The atmosphere stills in the room and Hoseok exhales sharply. “Idiot,” he mutters.
One of his hands suddenly slides under your chin, and your eyes widen when you see the sudden intense look on his face. “Say it,” he growls, and the low gravelly tone that colors his voice has your spine shivering. “Say that he wouldn’t make you cum.”
You sputter at this, cheeks burning. You bite your lip, wanting to repeat his words but feeling your tummy flip at even the prospect of saying that word. Hoseok notices your hesitation and begins pressing his lips against your neck, softly suckling at the soft skin. You sigh at the feeling, arching your back to push your body closer to his but his right hand suddenly pushes your hip down onto the bed, rendering you immobile.
“Hobi, what the- oh,” you suddenly moan when he bites down on your neck, sucking harder and causing you to wiggle under his touch in need. His tongue darts out to soothe the burn of the bite, peppering kisses all over the rapidly reddening mark before moving to another spot and repeating the process until you’re a writhing mess underneath him.
You feel yourself growing wetter under his ministrations and you whine in frustration, having enough of the game he’s playing at. “Fine! He never made me cum, please do something before I lose it Hobi!”
You hear something suspiciously close to a chuckle before he pulls away and steals a quick peck from your lips. His palms slide down your body towards the end of your dress and when he reaches the hem he hesitates, bunching the fabric in between his fingers. You prop yourself up on your forearms and look at him in confusion. “What’s wrong?”
“I need to know this is okay, ____.” Hoseok says seriously. “I want to know that you want this.”
You push yourself upright so that you’re sitting up and, without hesitating, pull on his shirt and kiss him. Your palm presses against his wildly beating heart and his own hand slides on top of your own, squeezing your fingers gently as you pour every bit of want into the kiss as you can.
You pull away and smile shyly at him. “I want you more than you know, Hobi.” 
In response he pulls your hand up to his mouth and kisses your knuckles, the affectionate gesture he always does making your heart flutter in your chest. His hands return to the hem of your skirt and he looks at you in question. You nod once and he slowly slides the fabric up your thighs, past your torso and over your head before tossing the garment into a corner of your bedroom and leaving you in the pretty underwear set you luckily had the foresight to put on.
And judging by the way Hoseok’s eyes glaze over, he loves it too.
“Beautiful,” he breathes out, and he’s pushing you gently so that you lay on the bed and your head rests on the pillows. He kisses you once again, hands slowly skimming up the sides of your body in a reverent way before making their way to your back.
His fingers clumsily connect with the clasp of your bra and he tugs, struggling to take off the garment. You giggle against his lips and he grumbles in embarrassment, tugging once again before finally undoing the clasp and slowly pulling the straps down your arms.
His hands cover the cups of the bra and he gently kneads your breasts, making you moan in need. You feel the smirk on his lips against your mouth before he pulls away, head tilting away slightly so he can look as your chest is exposed to him, and you feel your skin heat under his intense look and the almost animalistic growl that rumbles in his chest.
“So fucking pretty,” Hoseok grunts, and the unexpected compliment has you flushing further. You make a move to cover yourself out of shyness but his hands stop you, maneuvering your wrists so that your hands are above your head.
“Don’t move them baby, I wanna see you,” he orders. You whine at this command, nodding and trying your best to stay still. He caresses your cheek softly and he makes a move to return his hands to your chest, but he stops himself and smirks at you before pulling his own shirt over his head and making you gasp at the Greek god-esque body before you.
It’s like he’s been carved by the gods himself, his collarbones pronounced and build lean yet strong. Your eyes travel over his chest, past the faint lines of his abs but before your eyes can travel further down he stops you, palming at your breasts.
“Hobi-” you whine, and the tips of his fingers gently circle the areola before he pulls on your nipples, making you gasp and arch your back. Your hands move down in a bid to press his palms against your chest so he can keep going but before you can he slaps your tit, making you moan.
“Here’s the deal, baby girl,” he says with a hint of cockiness in his voice. “Move your hands, you won’t cum.”
“Hoseokiee,” you pout, extending the ending of his name. He chuckles at the neediness in your voice and he gladly obliges, returning his hands to your breasts and massaging, thumbing your nipples and making tiny zips of electricity travel up your spine. “More, please.”
He doesn’t respond, pinching lightly at your nipples and making you moan out in need. “Such pretty tits,” he sighs, pulling the sensitive buds and making you cry out at the burning pleasure you feel. “I could play with you forever, baby.”
“Ah- Hobi,” you whine, hands shaking but faithfully staying above your head. “More, please- I want more.”
“Mmm, my baby is a good girl huh?” he asks rhetorically. You nod feverishly and he smiles at you, though his eyes hold devilish promises in them. “Let me take care of you then.”
That’s all you get before he connects his lips against one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around the bud and sucking until you’re writhing underneath him and your nipple is red and shiny from his spit. He presses a kiss against the one he lavished in attention before he moves on to the other and gives it the same treatment, slowly driving you crazier and crazier until you’re whining, bucking your hips against his own. He gets the memo and moves from your chest, planting wet kisses against your skin and slowly traveling down until his face is in the space between your thighs.
He kisses your hip while his fingers slide under the band of your underwear, slowly sliding down the fabric. He watches in fascination as your core slowly unsticks from the gusset of your underwear, wet and puffy with need. He hurriedly pulls the fabric down your legs and throws the fabric behind his shoulder, all the while kissing your pubic mound and making his way to your slit.
You jolt when you feel his tongue dip slightly into your folds, letting out a whine and tightly gripping the pillow underneath your head to anchor your hands.
“Good girl,” he praises, and he’s leaning down and licking a long stripe up your core, making you moan at the new feeling. Little tingles of pleasure race up your spine and your fingers tremble, wanting to move your hands down to his head so bad but not wanting to disobey his order.
He finds your clit with ease and slowly traces the bud in one irritatingly slow circle, making you gasp and buck your hips up to his face. You feel his smirk against your core and that in itself makes you shiver, and it’s not long until he returns to lapping at your folds.
The hand that isn’t holding you down makes its way to your core, and you cry out when you feel his thumb replace his tongue on your clit. His tongue moves to your weeping core, circling your opening and moaning into you as he laps up your wetness.
He pulls away and presses a kiss to your clit, making you jolt. “So good, baby,” he murmurs appreciatively, and you feel yourself redden at his words. “Fuck, such a wet and needy pussy too...I wanna bury my cock in you, do you want that too?”
His fingers trace your weeping hole and you whine, frustrations mounting until you snap. “Hoseok, if you don’t do something I’m gonna kick you out,” you threaten breathlessly, mind slowly fogging with the pleasure he builds within the pit of your stomach. 
He grins at this, pointer finger shallowly dipping into your opening. “Mmm, really baby girl? You gonna kick me out and take care of yourself?”
“If that’s what it- oh,” you suddenly moan when he slowly works his finger into your pussy, crooking his finger and wiggling it around until his finger finds the spot inside of you that makes you jolt. You gasp when he returns his lips to your throbbing clit, sucking on the little bud and making you moan.
“Shit, Hobi- don’t stop! Please don’t stop!” You begin to babble, and your hands move from your pillow to your body, squeezing your breasts and crying out as the knot in your stomach begins to tighten, slowly building up into the most intense climax you feel in the corner of your mind.
Hoseok looks up at your face, ministrations never ceasing as he takes in your pleasure induced state. He groans at the way your head turns from left to right as you cry out and how your hands grip your breasts. He feels his cock stir within his pants at this erotic sight of you and he presses his hips down into the mattress, moaning at the pressure and beginning to rut his hips up to create friction and giving himself pleasure too.
“Hobi, fuck-” you pant, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten further and further. “More please, I need more-”
“Fuck baby, you’re so hot,” he groans in response, and you barely have time to think before he’s wrapping his hands around your thighs and pulling you down flush against his mouth, lashing his tongue against your folds and making you wail out. His efforts have doubled and you feel yourself racing towards the edge, so close to your orgasm that you can taste it.
So caught up in your pleasure you barely notice how your hands have drifted down to Hoseok’s head, fingers sliding in between the silken strands of his hair and gripping tightly. He freezes slightly when he feels you pull on his head and he begins to slow his ministrations down until his tongue is barely moving.
You cry out at this, and your eyes snap open when you feel your climax begin to recede. “Hobi, what the fuck?” you pant out. “I was so close, please-”
“Your hands, baby girl,” he points out with a smirk and sinister glint in his eyes. “Remember what I said?”
In your lust induced state, you can barely remember your own name so how are you meant to remember his order? Your eyes widen when you suddenly recall his words though.
“Hobi, I’m sorry,” you whine. Your hands make a move to go back up to above your head but he stops you, grabbing hold of them and lacing your fingers together tightly.
“Mmm, you will be baby,” he grins slyly before returning his mouth back to your dripping pussy. You gasp out, writhing under his touch and feeling the pleasure return two fold.
You feel your orgasm just barely within grasp of your fingertips, hurtling closer and closer to the explosive end you feel. Your thighs shake on either side of Hoseok’s head, signalling to him that you’re close again and just before you can fall off of the edge, he pulls away once again.
You cry out when you register that you’re slowly being drawn back away from the edge, and you sob when the orgasm that was so close fully recedes, leaving you high and dry and aching for more. Hoseok’s right hand untangles itself from your grasp and returns to your core, where his thumb finds your clit and circles the bud in one slow movement. “Say sorry for moving your hands and maybe I’ll let you cum.”
Immediately, babbles of apologies spill from your lips as you dryly sob, apologizing and begging for him to let you cum. All the while, Hoseok hums and slowly traces your core with his fingers, letting his finger sink inside you for a little bit before slowly pulling away or gently laving at your clit before you finally choke out, “Hobi, please- fuck I’m sorry- please let me cum.”
“Good girl,” he praises, before he buries his face back in between your thighs and sucking on your clit, triggering the end that had been so cruelly ripped away from you two times before. You sob, back arching as you finally relax in his hold and cum on his tongue, hips bucking against his face. His fingers squeeze your own tightly as he gently licks at you, prolonging the sparks of ecstasy that are bursting throughout your entire body.
You slowly float down the high you had risen to, becoming aware of the soft kisses Hoseok peppers all over your inner thighs. You shiver when you feel the strands of his hair brush against your sensitive core and you whine for him, tugging on his hand in a bid to get him back up to your face. He laughs at your neediness yet gladly obliges, trailing kisses over your body until he reaches your face. He pulls the hand he’s holding to his mouth and presses a kiss against your knuckles before leaning over your face and slotting his lips against your own. You whine when you taste yourself on his lips and you wind your arms around his neck, pulling him down flush against your body.
The two of you stay in this position until you feel his bulge pressing against your inner thigh. You move your leg against it and he groans, pulling away. “Baby, you don’t have to-”
“I want this, I want you,” you swiftly interrupt, kissing the tip of his nose. His eyes darken at your words but he bites his lip, and you can see the clear hesitation on his face.
“Hobi,” you murmur. You press a kiss to his cheek and he closes his eyes. “I trust you.”
“I wanna take my time,” he exhales shakily. His eyes drift back open and you feel your heart swell at the tenderness in his gaze. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”
“And you won’t,” you reply tenderly, cupping the side of his face.
Hoseok beams at you, kissing you as he slides off his pants. He tosses his jeans somewhere in your room, pulling away to tear open the condom he had pulled out of his jeans. You prop yourself up on your forearms and watch as he tears open the packet, rolling the rubber over his long, hard length and wincing as he pumps himself once, twice, three times to get ready.
He catches your gaze on him and he winks, causing you to laugh at him. He chuckles back, sliding his body back over yours and kissing you again. This kiss feels different from the rest- it feels like he’s pouring every loving emotion into that kiss, and you reciprocate that feeling.
So caught up in his kiss, you don’t notice the tip of his cock prodding against your weeping hole until it penetrates you slightly, making you gasp at the slight pain. Your hands grab hold onto his shoulders, whimpering at the stinging sensation.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs softly, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Try to relax, okay? I’ll go slow for you.”
You nod. “Keep going,” you urge and he laughs at your enthusiasm, kissing your nose.
Inch by inch, he brings his hips forward. Your face scrunches as the stinging intensifies, and when he’s fully inside you’re gasping, nails digging slightly into his shoulder.
“It’s okay baby,” he says softly, kissing the tip of your nose as you pant, struggling to adjust to the feeling of his cock inside of you. “Take your time, I’ve got you.”
He pulls you into a kiss, and you whine as you feel him thrust slightly inside of you. There’s a pleasure that lies behind the pain, though, and you relish in the feeling of being so intimate with him.
Slowly, you get accustomed to the feeling of him inside of you. You wiggle your hips and clench experimentally, causing him to moan and buck his hips against yours. You cry out in response, back arching at the pleasure that shoots up your spine.
“Baby, don’t do that if you’re not ready because I’ll lose it if you do,” Hoseok says thickly, gritting his teeth.
“Move,” you beg. “I’m okay Hobi, move, please.”
He nods, kissing you as he begins to thrust inside of you. He starts off slow, speeding up gradually as you get used to his measured thrusts. His hips move fluidly, occasionally rolling and making you moan into his mouth.
The pleasure begins to get too much and you find yourself digging your nails into his shoulders, clawing at his skin and leaving red marks down his back as you slowly start to lose your grip on reality. He moans at the sting and his hands pull your legs around his thighs, keeping you as close to his body as possible.
You have never been this close to someone. Chest to chest, connected in the most intimate way possible. That dominant side you had seen earlier in Hoseok is gone, and all you see is the man that you’ve fallen in love with over the course of the months.
Hoseok catches your gaze, and his eyes soften before he kisses you again. The kiss alongside the rolling of his hips has you slowly approaching your end, the feeling overwhelming your senses and stealing your breath away.
Hoseok senses that you’re close by the tightening of your walls and he grunts, sliding his hand between your bodies and towards your pussy, finding your clit with ease and stroking the bud in languid strokes. “Are you close, baby?” He asks, and you nod, tears pricking your vision.
“Feels so good Hobi,” you slur, mind slowly being taken over by the pleasure. “I wanna cum, please-”
With a well placed thrust of his hips and a last stroke to your clit, “Cum,” he orders gently.
You obey his command, back arching and crying out as you tighten around his cock, beginning to cum. Your nails scratch down his back, struggling to find something to anchor you against the waves of pleasure you feel. Hoseok groans at the stinging scratches your nails leave behind, continuously thrusting his hips and rubbing at your clit, which prolongs your orgasm and leaves you dizzy, gasping for air.
The tightening of your walls and the sight of you so blissed out underneath him has Hoseok moaning, his thrusts turning sloppy until he cums in the condom, collapsing on top of you. His lips find yours and you reciprocate his kiss with the same enthusiasm he gives you. He uses the distraction to pull out slowly, causing you to wince and for him to kiss your cheek in apology. He takes off the condom and ties end before sliding it back into the wrapper, standing up briefly to dispose of it.
You watch him sleepily, surprise jolting you awake when he begins to pull on his boxers. “Don’t go,” you murmur sleepily, and your words have him smiling softly at you.
“I won’t,” he replies, sliding back into your bed with you. He pulls the comforter over your bodies before wrapping you in his embrace, tucking your head under his chin.
You don’t register much, tiredness overtaking your body. He strokes your hair, humming something softly under his breath as you slowly begin to drift to sleep.
The last thing you register is a soft whisper and a kiss to your forehead before sleep overtakes your body.
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When you wake up, the other side of your bed is cold. 
You flop onto your stomach, seeking the warmth of Hoseok only to find the indentation of where he laid yesterday, and when you feel this subtle dip in the bed you blush at the memories of how he held you in his arms and made you tremble under his touch.
You slowly sit up on your bed and clutch your blanket against your chest as you hazily smile, rubbing your eyes and blearily looking around for any sign of him. You frown when you don’t see his clothes strewn about on the floor or his phone on your bedside table. You chalk it up to him just being in your living room so you pull your blanket over your shoulders and force yourself out of your bed. You wince at the slight soreness between your thighs but that sting is drowned out by the rapidly mounting confusion that’s building.
“Hobi?” you call out, hoping to hear his response. You’re sorely disappointed, however, when silence greets you.
You gnaw at your lip, wondering exactly why he wasn’t here. Maybe he was picking up breakfast pastries from the cafe you two frequented? Maybe there was an emergency at his own apartment? There must be some logical explanation to this.
“Or maybe,” the ugly voice in your head taunts, “he thinks it was a mistake.”
You shiver at that thought, shaking your head desperately and pulling yourself out of that gnarled, dark place. You decide in that moment that maybe he just needed to do something and he had to leave in a rush, which you can understand. You make the decision to take a shower and go to the cafe, craving one of the strawberry croissants Hoseok introduced you to.
Throughout your entire routine of getting ready, you find yourself glancing at your phone, hoping for any sort of text from Hobi. The pit in your stomach slowly tightens until there’s this horrible feeling of dread and foreboding and you just can’t help but feel something horrible is going to happen, but you keep pushing that thought to the side. 
You’re just way too into your head, nothing is going to go wrong.
As you’re getting dressed, you spot the soft crewneck he was wearing yesterday on the side table by your couch. You purse your lips, weighing the pros and cons of wearing his clothes until you decide that it wouldn’t kill you to wear it. He’s let you wear some of his clothes before, what would be so different about this instance?
You pull the sweater over your head, inhaling his scent and smiling softly to yourself. You never thought that something as small as a sweater would bring you that much joy, but with Hoseok every little thing about him made you happy.
He makes you happy, the happiest you’ve felt in a long while.
Before you know it, you’re out of the door of your apartment, clunky boots pounding on the concrete as you rush to catch the bus to Yonsei. You barely squeeze through the doors and you let out a sigh of relief when the shuttle bus that travels to campus lets you on, tucking your hair behind your ear and catching your breath.
You soon arrive on campus and you step off of the bus, gravitating towards the direction of the cafe. You pop your headphones into your ears as you begin to walk towards the walkway that leads to the entrance, but before you can press play on your playlist you hear voices slowly raising with an argument.
Normally, you would ignore whoever was arguing, choosing to give them privacy. This time would have been no different, except when you look up you see that it’s Eunji and Hoseok talking. You feel yourself drop the earbud in your hand and you barely register your movements, walking towards them before stopping yourself and standing a couple feet back.
It’s clear that you caught them in the height of their argument, voices getting angrier and hand gestures becoming wilder. You don’t mean to eavesdrop, you really don’t, but once you hear your name mentioned, you can’t stop listening.
“Why are you even dating ____, Hoseok?” Eunji asks in an annoyed, bitter tone. “What does she have that I don’t? Charm, brains, charisma? What is it, Hoseok?”
“Eunji,” he replies with a frustrated sigh. She cuts him off, however, as she continues on with her tirade.
“Well, Hoseok? We were the perfect couple, and I really regret sleeping with Sungho because you were just better but you seem to be hesitating.” Eunji steps closer, and you feel yourself gulp at the sight of her raising her hands to Hoseok’s face and cupping his cheeks gently. “Don’t you love me, Hobi?”
At the use of the nickname you feel your heart begin to crack.
Hobi, Hobi, Hobi.
He said no one used that nickname, only reserved for his closest friends and family. Apparently not even Eunji used it, but you guess he was lying about that one.
You see his shoulders loosen slightly at her touch, and you feel the knot in your stomach tighten further. No matter how much you try to get yourself away from the sight though, you can’t seem to pull away from the sight of Hoseok and Eunji so close to each other.
The dread in the pit of your stomach is reaching its breaking point, and you know you have to get away before you see anything that would completely ruin you.
That thought turns out to be futile, however, when you see Eunji push herself up on her tiptoes and press her lips against Hoseok’s, her eyes slowly sinking shut. The cracks in your heart deepen at this sight, and you think that it can’t get any worse than this.
But you’re oh so wrong. You see Hoseok’s palms cup Eunji’s hands and all of a sudden you feel your heart splintering in your chest, completely breaking and falling apart at the sight of the two of them kissing.
Hoseok’s hands pull Eunji’s hands away from his face. Eunji opens her eyes and the first thing she sees is you, and her lips turn up in a soft smirk. She points at you and Hoseok turns around, eyes widening and face paling. He yanks his hands away from Eunji, taking steps towards you but you shake your head, turning on your heels and heading towards the direction of the bus stop.
You can’t handle seeing him, not with your hearts rapidly shattering in your chest.
“____!” He calls out desperately. You weave in and out of the crowd, wiping at the beginnings of your tears and trying to put as much distance between you and him, but you freeze when you feel his hand grab at yours.
You yank your arm away as if you had been burned and turn around, not prepared to see Hoseok showing this much emotion in front of you. He’s wringing his hands and in his eyes there’s a look of pure agony but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when your own sadness and pain is overwhelming.
“____,” he rasps, hands reaching out to try and hold onto you. You gasp at his movement, maneuvering your body out of his reach. His eyes flash with hurt before he composes himself, although you see the tremble of his bottom lip.
“Please listen to me, ____.” Hoseok begins, bringing a hand up to his hair and running his fingers through the locks in a show of frustration. “That moment with Eunji, it meant nothing. She means nothing to me.” “And what am I to you?” you choke out, not trying to hide the cracking in your voice. “Just the co-conspirator of our revenge plot? A rebound to get over your perfect ex-girlfriend? What was I to you during this entire time, Hoseok?”
He flounders at this before he gathers his emotions, and you pinpoint the exact moment you lose your Hobi, the Hoseok you’d fallen in love with over the course of this entire stupid plan. He stops wringing his hands, balling them into fists at his side and he replaces the feelings on his face in favor of a mask of indifference, reverting back to the Hoseok you had first met all those months ago at the Broken Hearts Club table.
And you don’t know why, but seeing this happen right in front of your eyes has your already broken heart breaking even more.
“Don’t tell me you actually fell in love with me when we agreed not to,” he instead states coolly. You see his eyes flash momentarily at the word “love” but he continues his thought, his eyebrows beginning to furrow. “We made a deal to get back at our exes and to not fall in love in the process, do you not remember that ____?”
“Of course I remember that!” You cry out weakly, tears beginning to mist your vision. “I can’t help my emotions, Hoseok, you can’t blame me for that!”
“Then I’m gonna do what’s right and blame you for having feelings for me when we agreed not to have any sort of emotion for each other in the first place,” he sneers. “You shouldn’t have fallen for me, that’s on you.”
You give up the reign of your emotions, tears finally falling down your face as you feel your shoulders shake. He stops his tirade and his eyes widen at the realization of hurting you, but by then it’s too late.
“And don’t you remember, Hoseok?” you croak out brokenly. “We made a promise to each other. We promised each other we would never hurt each other and break each other’s hearts. Do you remember that, or did you conveniently forget?”
“____,” he begins, but you hold your hand up, stopping his thoughts.
“Sungho...he may have damaged my heart, made it crack just a little bit.” Your voice trembles and you swallow thickly, looking up at him and into his eyes directly. You notice the slight shine of tears in his eyes but you can’t bring yourself to care, not right now.
“But you...you took my heart in your hands and held it so gently before you crushed it between your fists.” At your statement he opens his mouth but you hold your hand up, silencing him. “And if I’m gonna compare situations, I’m going to say that this hurts worse than what Sungho did to me a couple of months back, so please forgive me for falling in love with you because I can’t forgive me for allowing myself to fall twice and giving my trust to someone I love only to get hurt over and over again.”
You barely give him time to process your words before you’re turning away and running for the bus, not able to summon the strength to turn back and see if he follows you. 
And judging by the lack of footsteps behind you, you have your answer.
You squeeze yourself back on the bus, trying desperately to keep your tears at bay. It’s only when you enter your apartment you collapse against your front door, tears falling in constant rivulets until you can’t take it anymore.
You start to sob helplessly into the sleeves of Hoseok’s sweater, elbows against your knees. And through it all, you can only think of wanting Hoseok’s arms around you, comforting you while whispering the words he said so long ago at the cafe:
“And I promise to you that I’m never going to break your heart, and that I’ll never hurt you.”
You know you can’t go back to him, though, no matter the situation.
And so you sit on the floor of your apartment, weeping from the agony of your shattered heart and the painful realization that everything between you and Hoseok had meant nothing to him while meaning everything to you.
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You don’t sit at the Broken Hearts Club table this second time around, but even if you did it wouldn’t have made much of a difference. Everyone knows what has gone down between you and Hoseok, and no table could ever save you from the waves of pity that surround you.
To their credit Taehyung, Jimin, and Taehyung’s girlfriend had offered to beat Hoseok up. You had only shook your head and given them a small half smile, standing up from the usual lunch table you share and excusing yourself before briskly walking to the library. You ignore every stare, every gasp, every pitying whisper of “Poor girl,” choosing to take the stairs and climb to the highest floor Yonsei University’s library had to offer before settling on a table far away from prying eyes.
And that’s where you’ve been eating and hiding for the past couple of days. You take solace in the quiet, plugging your headphones in and blasting classical music while you drown yourself in finals prep work. You chant the mantra “Degrees over dick,” in an effort to make yourself feel better, but you know it’s just a temporary distraction from the steadily throbbing pain at the spot in your chest where your heart used to beat.
And the absolute shittiest part is that you just want Hoseok with you. You want to watch when his brows furrow and lips purse when he’s thinking deeply about an essay prompt, and you want to crack a purposefully dumb joke just to hear his laughter. You miss the way when he would glance away quickly when you look up at him, and also when your hands would muddle together when he hands you your croissant- egg and cheese or strawberry.
And worst of all, you miss when he would randomly grab hold of your hand, leaning down to give a soft peck of his lips against your knuckles before pulling away and pretending as if he didn’t kiss you in the first place.
Instead you’re stuck in this quiet part of the library, pretending to study for your finals but actually forced to relive the moments that made you happiest in the hour of your darkest torments.
You sigh, tears welling up in your eyes and you place your pencil on your notebook, ducking your head down and burrowing your face into your arms as you let the tears stream down your face. There’s almost a sense of deja vu- this journey started with your head down crying at the Broken Hearts Club table and it’s ending with your head down at a table crying.
You can practically hear footsteps approaching the table, too.
“____?”
You gasp, your head shooting up to see who it was who said your name. 
Only to deflate when you see that it’s Sungho.
A bitter, acrid taste begins to fill your mouth at the sight of him, ire slowly spreading a fire through your veins. You realize in that moment that you hate him and that he’s one of the biggest sources of your pain- the reason why this whole shit show started.
“What?” you snap, and Sungho visibly flinches at this sight of you so angry.
“Are you okay?” he asks, and you roll your eyes.
“I’m fine and dandy!” you reply back sarcastically. “Sat in this library alone, crying over a shit ton of hurt that started because you cheated on me. So, kindly: leave me alone.”
Sungho sighs, and despite being told to leave you alone he sits down in the chair across from you. You groan in frustration, running your fingers through your hair and considering just stabbing him with your pencil.
“I don’t deserve your forgiveness-” Sungho begins, but you cut him off swiftly with a laugh.
“Forgiveness? Sungho, you treated me like shit. You cheated on me- what am I supposed to think?” you interrupt harshly, and the hurt is clear in your tone by the way Sungho winces.
“I know,” he sighs, conceding to the fact that he’s a huge dick. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry, and I really hope things work out with Hoseok.”
Even the mention of Hoseok stings your heart. You sigh, and you don’t know why but you feel the need to come clean to him and tell him that it was fake. “It wasn’t real...we got together to get back at you and Eunji for cheating on us. And uh, they kissed so I’m kind of back where I started.”
Strangely enough, Sungho smiles at you and shakes his head. “You never saw it, huh?”
You look at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”
Sungho looks at you, and for the first time since you first started dating him you see kindness in his eyes. “Whenever you and Hoseok were on campus and would pass by, I would always try and get a glimpse of you. You always turned away, but I would always see the smile you had on whenever Hoseok was around...he made you so happy. You never smiled like that when we were a thing.” Sungho chuckles, shaking his head. “And Hoseok, you know how he has that reputation of never smiling, keeping that cold facade?”
You nod, frowning slightly at the thought of Hoseok before you two got together. Cold and distant, almost impenetrable. It hurt seeing him like that.
Sungho disrupts your thoughts. “You would never see it because you would turn away, but he would always smile at you. The softest smile I had ever seen from him...like you were the best thing that ever happened to him.”
You feel tears brim at that one. You never knew that he looked at you like that. Knowing that fact just makes the loss more painful.
“Why are you telling me this?” you blurt out, and Sungho shrugs.
“You deserve good things in your life, ____,” he says, as if it’s the clearest thing in the whole world. “I couldn’t give you that, but Hoseok could. I know it hurts but you should try again with him.”
His words render you speechless, and you blink owlishly at him. “That’s the nicest thing you said to me, Sungho.”
He laughs at this. “No sweat. Just...I wish you and Hoseok the best of luck. You both deserve good things in your lives and that relationship really suited the both of you, regardless of whatever Eunji thinks.” He winces when he says her name, shaking his head. “Speaking of, I should go over to her.”
“You do know she kissed Hoseok, right?” you ask him, and he nods.
“Someone has to deal with her,” he says, and despite the joking tone there’s an undercurrent of sadness to his voice. “Well, I’ll leave you. Good luck to you and Hoseok.”
And with that he leaves, leaving you reeling at his words.
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Once your break starts, the rumors and whispers stop.
And you don’t know why, but you miss the whispers. It kept you out of your head and away from the nasty thoughts dwelling in your brain. Now that you had nothing to study for and you had no reason to be on campus, you find yourself living through all of the good and bad you had experienced with Hoseok, and you’re slowly growing sick of being tormented by the memory of him.
You don’t understand why you just couldn’t accept the fact that it would have never worked out between you and him. Your brain very logically understands that you have to face the outcome and suck up the shit. The pieces of your heart, though, cry out against this and hold onto hope that he’ll come and apologize, that you two can try again and things will work out between you two.
So you’ve taken to ignoring both your head and heart, shutting down and pushing those feelings aside.
It works for the most part. You’re able to get things done like tidy your apartment and sort through paperwork, but some things are stronger than your head and your heart and they inevitably find their way back to your attention.
Like the strawberry croissant from the cafe. You hadn’t had the courage to step into that cafe ever since things went down, but you find that your craving for them has intensified tenfold. You were able to push it aside but now? You just want to taste it so bad, damn the memories associated with the place and food.
And you deserve to have good things in your life.
Your resolve settles, and before you know it you’re walking to the bus stop that travels to campus. Once you step off, you make your way over to the cafe, politely pushing your way through the throng of students who decided to take summer courses and the international students who decided to do a study abroad. You soon stand in front of the entrance and you reach out to open the handle, but something stops you and you pause, hesitating to open the door.
What if he’s there?
You bite your lip, stomach sinking at the thought of having to face him again. It scares the living daylights out of you; the possibility of confrontation. You don’t know if you’re ready to face him or even be within his immediate vicinity.
You immediately begin second guessing going in but the thought of eating a strawberry croissant after so long stops you, and you decide to just go in and get the damn croissant so you don’t have to come back for a while.
The cafe is just as home-y as you remember, but the memories associated with the place has your perception of the place turning sour. It’s still not as busy as it should be but that gives you comfort, because it means that he shouldn’t be around here.
You feel your bravado sink, however, when you see Namjoon working the counter.
And judging by the way his eyes widen in shock when he sees you, it’s too late to turn back.
“____!” he calls, and you force a smile on your face as you stiffly walk over to the cashier. Namjoon gives you the same warm smile you’re accustomed to, but there’s a hint of sadness and knowing in his eyes. Seeing him fills you with comfort though; you trust Namjoon not to tell him that you were here.
“Hey Namjoon,” you greet softly. An awkward silence soon fills the air but Namjoon is quick to fill it.
“The usual? Matcha latte and strawberry croissant?” He offers, and you nod your head.
“Yes please,” you reply, pulling your wallet out and handing him your card. “I had a craving so I just wanted to stop by and get one, it’s been a while.”
Namjoon nods at this, punching your order into the register. “Is it prying if I ask if you’re doing okay?”
Normally, you would just deflect the question. You trust him though, so you answer truthfully. “No,” you admit, still waiting for him to take your card. “I miss him, so much. But I’ve come to realize that nothing was going to come out of that relationship so I just need to accept that fact and move on.”
Namjoon hums at this, waving aside your card and instead handing your receipt to you. “It’s on me today, just choose a table.”
You express your thanks, moving towards the table but you pause, turning back to Namjoon slowly. He looks at you with questions written all over his face, clearly waiting for your question.
“How is he doing?” You ask, gnawing on your lip and twiddling with your fingers. Namjoon’s eyes soften at your clear anxiety; it’s clear to him that you still care for Hoseok so much, and it hurts Namjoon seeing both you and him so distraught over this.
“Like shit,” he answers truthfully. You feel yours eyes glaze over with tears and a hurt inside of you flares; knowing that Hoseok is hurting just as much as you are has your heart crying out for him but the pain in your chest has you stopping at the thought of seeing him. Namjoon continues on at your silence, saying “He knows it’s his fault, and he knows the last thing you want is to see him so he granted you that. He’s been in his apartment but when the aftermath was first happening he would come by the cafe everyday to see if you’d visit. He wanted to apologize but you never showed up, so he stopped coming. Said something about the cafe holding too many good memories that he doesn’t deserve. He hasn’t come by since.”
You exhale shakily at this revelation, partly in relief but also in sadness. Relief because there’s no chance he would come while you were here, sadness because of how he’s been faring.
Still, you need to trust Namjoon that he won’t tell Hoseok that you’ve been here. You express exactly that, and you see Namjoon’s eyes flash with...something, but before you can decipher it that flicker is gone. “Got it,” he says, his voice wavering slightly at the end. “He won’t know, I got you, ____.”
You highly doubt that, especially with how nervous he suddenly became. Nevertheless, you give him your thanks and make your way mindlessly to a table, only to pause when you see that it’s the table you and Hoseok would always sit at.
Seeing the setting almost has the effect of being outside looking in on something private; all of the conversations had, croissants shared, laughter around the both of you- it almost feels like you’re a stranger to this, like you’re seeing it happen live when realistically, all of those things happened to you and him. It brings a bitter taste to your tongue, all of those memories soured by what happened.
It shouldn’t matter if you sat here though, for old time’s sake. It’s just a table, after all.
Except when you sit down, you know that it’s far from that case.
The table feels wider, the space underneath it emptier because you don’t have Hoseok’s feet to kick around jokingly. The table isn’t filled with various pastries and your favorite drinks. Most importantly, the chair in front of you is void of the presence you had come to know and love so much, and that emptiness has you aching all over again, like the first time you saw her kiss him.
You’re so sick of being the one broken hearted.
You sigh as you feel the pain in your chest stir, but no tears surprisingly surface. Either you’re all cried out from the past couple of weeks or you’re just so numb to the point that you’re used to it, but regardless, you’re glad you don’t cry. You’ve had enough of crying at tables with your head down to last you a lifetime.
You perk up at the sound of footsteps approaching the table and you turn around, expecting to see Namjoon holding your croissant in one hand and your latte in the other.
You never anticipate seeing Hoseok standing behind you, looking as shocked as you feel.
You feel your body sing at the sight of him in the flesh after being away from him for so long. That slowly dissipates when you notice just how tired he is; his hair is unkempt and his eyes have shadows underneath them. Just the thought of seeing him, however, simultaneously relieves the pressure in your chest and causes your stomach to sink.
“____,” he breathes out, and hearing your name leave his lips has you exhaling shakily.
“Hi,” you squeak back.
Footsteps behind the both of you interrupt your moment, and you sigh when you see Namjoon holding your croissant and matcha latte, looking as shocked as both you and Hoseok.
“I swear I didn’t tell him,” Namjoon blurts out, looking at you nervously. You flash a smile at him, though.
“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “Just put it on the table, please.”
You turn back around as Namjoon places your dishes on the table before walking away. You turn back around when Hoseok doesn’t sit down in front of you, and you look at him curiously when he stays frozen at the spot he’s standing on.
“Come sit,” you say quietly. “We should talk.”
He blinks, slowly registering your words until he understands, moving to sit in front of you. Seeing him in the spot you always associated with him has you reeling- your heart is replaying all of the past memories but your head is reminding you of the pain from the last couple of weeks. There’s a dissonance that runs throughout your body at this sight of him so close to you but your hearts so far away.
Silence consumes the area, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. Your croissant slowly deflates and your matcha latte grows cold, so you decide that it’s time that you talk this through so you can both move on from your lives and each other.
“I-”
“I need to tell you something,” Hoseok says, his voice interrupting your thoughts. You blink and he rubs the back of his head sheepishly when he realizes he cut you off but you shrug, gesturing for him to continue.
“I wanna start off by saying I’m sorry,” he begins seriously. “I know what you saw was horrible, but I need you to know that kiss meant nothing to me, absolutely nothing. Eunji came up and draped herself all over me, I kept pushing her off because I wanted to stop here and pick up breakfast for us to eat, but she picked that argument and next thing I knew she was kissing me. I was making a move to pull her off but by then you had seen and….I hurt you.”
You exhale shakily, these confessions confirming everything you had thought that fateful day. He really was just going to pick up croissants- nothing more, nothing less. He had every good intention in mind and seeing how everything turned out after that day just makes your heart sink.
There’s one question occupying the back of your mind, though, so you decide to ask it. “So that night...you don’t regret it?”
Hoseok’s eyes soften at this, and he shakes his head. “I don’t. I could never regret it, I was hoping that night would lead to more but then...”
You nod, suddenly unable to keep eye contact with him. These revelations are crushing and his admissions leave you breathless, body yearning for what could have been. You both could have been going on dates a long time ago, eating food and challenging each other at a karaoke bar.
Instead you’re both sitting at a table with the fragments of your relationship, having to clean up the mess that lays between the both of you.
“Hoseok,” you begin, tracing the rim of the plate your uneaten croissant sits on. “While I want to believe everything you’re saying, I just can’t. You said some really hurtful things out there...I wasn’t kidding when I said it felt like you crushed my heart. There’s this constant pain and I just...I don’t know if I can trust you again.”
Hoseok physically deflates at this, but his face holds nothing but understanding. “I get it. I was a dick to you and you deserved none of that, I’m so sorry.”
Tears prick at the corner of your eyes, chest fluttering at his genuine apology. You blink your tears away and nod. “Thank you, Hoseok.”
Silence fills the space between you two once again, and you stare at the now sad, limp dessert. You push the plate away from you, standing up. “I think I should go.”
You don’t think, standing up from your chair and bowing hastily before making your way out of the cafe, stepping outside of the building. You don’t make it very far though, because Hoseok stops you and turns you around to look at him.
“I wasn’t finished,” he says, chest heaving from chasing after you.
“I don’t know,” you reply, staring down at your shoes. “You seemed pretty done.”
Hoseok sighs, running his hands through his hair. “Sit down with me, please.”
You shake your head, still unable to look at him. “You can say it here. I’ve had enough of sitting at tables and crying to last a year.”
Despite the tension he laughs, and you can’t help but crack a small smile at the sound. You had missed that noise. “Remember when we first came here, and Namjoon was teasing me about you?”
You nod, smiling softly at the memory. “You promised that you would tell me what you told him if I just ate my croissant, so I did.”
Hoseok nods earnestly at this. “That’s what I want to tell you.”
You cross your arms, gesturing for him to continue. He breathes out before he rushes, “Ikindoffellinlovewithyou.”
“Excuse me?” You respond, not quite able to believe the words that come out of his mouth.
He looks down, and for the first time since you’ve met him he looks genuinely scared. Because of your reaction or his admission, you don’t know. But you see him physically steel himself before looking up at you and saying with nothing but certainty, “I had never felt anything like that for a person before, not even Eunji. I know we were meant to fake date but I just fell for you.” He scoffs at this, rolling his eyes to hide the glaze of tears. “Kind of hypocritical of me, right?”
“Hoseok, you know we can’t,” you say, tears beginning to blur your vision. So much for running out of tears. “I care about you so much but...I don’t know if this is healthy for the both of us.”
He swallows thickly, looking crestfallen at your words but accepting them all the same. “Is there any way we could try again? We don’t even need to date, you don’t have to accept. I just want to try again.”
“That’s it?” you ask. The thought of being just friends hurts. There were too many feelings for him swirling throughout your entire body, you couldn’t just be friends with him.
Maybe that’s why you two failed in the first place. Maybe that’s why the both of you got hurt; maybe because you went into this fake relationship with wounds from the last relationship that never fully healed.
Maybe that’s what you both need; to be friends.
You feel the resolve settle in your chest, and for the first time it feels like your heart is slowly healing.
“Friends?” You ask, holding out your hand.
Hoseok looks at you and nods, grasping your hand and shaking firmly twice. “Friends.”
And for the first time in a while, you feel the pieces of your heart mend.
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Cherry Absolute
Three: The perfect girl
Summary: waking up at the party with a hangover and Fez offered help...
Warning: Mentions Drugs, Alcohol, death, a tad cursing, and S3x
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"Yeah, that's real classy, you fucking whore." A sneer from afar echoed through the party, getting everyone's attention towards the pool. At the pool where Maddy clung to a blonde-haired boy as they moved in a specific motion. The anger and jealousy boiled in Nate Jacob's blood, as she groaned in dudgeon. "Suck my dick." Maddy curled her lip on him, making his vexation turn into pure rage. The crowd was relishing the show with their phone's on record. Nate turned back and re-entered the house pushing all the things around, creating an alarm to everybody.
"Get the fuck out of here! Get the fuck out of the kitchen! Fuck! Get out of here! Get the fuck out of here!" He started to frantic around the kitchen, causing everyone to leave out of fear or shock. but he stopped his whining after noticing a girl at the corner.
Sylvia awoke from the distinct sound of clamouring and rage coming from inside the house. She had slept for what felt like forever on Fez's lap, as he sat still- and was still smoking.
"How long am I out?" She asked after fixing her hair, " Uhh, ion know- you just fell" He clarified as he found her quite confused.
"You ight? Want me to drive you home?" He asked,
She didn't really know Fezco that much, all she knew was that he was a drug dealer that's friends with Rue. But she looked into his eyes and changed her mind, he appeared to be genuine and honest.
"Are staying-" she was disrupted from another loud shout from inside. " Um, I'm going to check this out, ill be right back" She divested before slowly standing up, as she felt her knees were a little bit frail. She stumbled a little, but Fezco was at the back to support her.
She pushed through the crowd that surrounded the kitchen, Finally- the view of Nate Jacobs already set Sylvia in an alarm, the ' something shitty with happening' looks.
" What the fuck are you looking at? Who are you?"
"I'm Jules. I'm a friend of..." She stuttered while Nate interrogated her body language, she leaned awkwardly on the counter looking for a space to back away.
"you're a friend of... A friend of whose? 'Cause, you're not my fucking friend. Who the fuck are you friends with, Jules? Hmm? Do you guys know who the fuck this is? Does anybody know who this is? Does anybody know who the fuck Jules is? Anyone at all."
"I'm a friend of Jules...." A voice from the crowd Cuts him off, " Oh look, The bitch who fucked a 40-year-old man for booze-" She stood there as the attention focused on her. The colour from her face was drained as all the memories flooded back to her. She looked around to see most of them whispering around. Unexpectedly, she was cut off by Jules reaching for a kitchen knife that was lying on the counter near her. "Shit!" pointing it towards Nate.
Sylvia turned away and pushed her way through the crowd, expecting Fez would be there
"Wanna go home?" He asked with a small smile. "Yeah, i really do.." Her smile widen when she saw him there, she never knew why but the heavy feeling from her chest withered. She followed him out of the place and towards his car, you went for the passenger seat, but before she could open the door, she galloped towards her and opened the door himself. "Why Thank you" She smiled and sat inside, with him shutting the door.
The first couple of minutes, the car ride was pure silent, with Sylvia looking out the window and Fez casually driving the car. He would glance to her and her smudged mascara, and her worn-out lipstick. He also adored how her hair was so messy and so subtle at the same time- they were like waves from the ocean, he also loved that homemade tattoo of the name 'sick boy' on the back of her ear.
"We don't talk much don't we?" She spoke.
"Yeah, I mean, what is there to talk about" He enunciated whilst glancing at her. " There's so much bullshit we could talk about, like the simple stuff, y'know. Like how's your day or Have you killed anyone yet" She suggested, "Just a normal conversation, it's like every time we bump into each other- you freeze" She chortled.
"Ion know, it's something about you, Sylvia. it's like you're, intimidating"
"Really? Good way or a bad way?"
"In a good way, Rue tells me you're smart 'n shit, I might say something dumb y'know" She chuckled at the statement while observing his profile.
"I think you're smart too, Rue also tells me that you're good with numbers- it's very attractive".
The whole time, the car was filled with laughs and outlandish jokes that Fez cracked. There were moments that they would just steal glances and study each other, it was so distracting that she didn't notice that her house was right at the corner.
"Oh! my stop's here"
"That your brother?" He pointed to the guy standing a the front lawn, "Unfortunately, yes" Fezco stopped in front of her house where her brother waited. She opened the door and pushed herself out,
"Hey, thank you again" She bowed down to take a last look at him,
" See you at the gas station" She smiled once more before heading inside, her brother stared at him for a good minute before following Sylvia. He waited before she could lock her door before, turning the engine one. "Yeah, I'll see you there..." He sighed while a grin was painted on his face.
{Narrated by Rue}
He thought to himself, that she was The Perfect girl
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outlustings · 24 days ago
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Outlast 1 boys reacting to a pregnant reader? And maybe them as dads? your blog gives me life
(i am too lazy to do my uni essay. the next logical step is to write 5k words of horror video game characters being dads i guess.
includes miles, chris, the twins, rick, eddie, jeremy, frank and for some reason DENNIS!
includes graphic childbirth scenes - why????? idk???? just because????? and mentions of drug use because frank is frank.
also are they phantom pregnancies? is your greatest joy just a figment of your imagination, a continuation of your insanity bleeding into your reality? are you too, depressed, like the writer is? muahaha...
enjoy!)
×
MILES
"I'm - I'm gonna be a dad?" he gripped the steering wheel with such tightness that you thought he might break it. You nodded, smiling as tears prickled your eyes.
"Yup."
Miles let out a shaky sigh, then ran his fingers through his dark brown hair, smiling weakly before bursting into airy, light laughter.
"Babe, that's so -..." he swallowed, turning his head to you, nearly pouncing on you as he hurriedly leaned over to the passenger seat to embrace you, "That's awesome! When?"
"When what?" you giggled against his neck as he held you tight, rocking you clumsily. Maybe you should've told this after you got out of the car.
"When will - you -... holy shit! Like, give birth?"
He was stumbling over his words, his eyes wide and excited. Adorable, you thought, ruffling his hair as he buried his head into your chest.
"I don't know, maybe June," you shrugged, "We'll see."
Miles nodded, leaning back to take a good look at you, his face red and his hair messy, his eyes glistening.
"I'm gonna be a dad!" he blurted out, grinning so wide you thought his cheeks would split. A single tear rolled down to his sharp jawline.
                                       ×
The cold autumn air nipped at your nose as you sat on the park bench, your discarded mittens resting on the the bump of your belly as you held the small digital camera in your numb hands. The ground was covered in little piles of leaves underneath the stirring gray sky ablve Denver. You filmed the park, panning your camera to capture the old maple trees and the distant playground. Miles always liked these little clips you took, you thought. He stayed up for hours on end editing them into little movies that he would proudly present to the two, soon to be three, of you.
A small toddler girl ran from one edge of the frame to another, brown hair spilling in wisps from her beanie as she cackled, being chased by a hunched over Miles who was roaring theatrically.
"I got you!" he snatched your daughter to his chest, raising her up above his head and she squealed in delight as he spun her around in the air.
You laughed, ending the recording on a frame of Miles pressing a kiss to the child's cheek, holding her to his chest as she tried to squirm away.
"Mommy!" she yelled and you waved at her, shoving the camera into the pocket of your jacket.
"You wanna go to mommy?" Miles turned his head to you and grinned, "I'll race you."
He set your daughter to the ground and she started running, waving her limbs all about, stirring up flurries of red and gold leaves with her pink rubber boots.
Miles jogged behind her. You stretched your arms out and she bumped against your legs. You chuckled.
"Daddy's slow, isn't he?" you stroked her cheek as she turned her face to her father. Miles panted when he reached the bench.
"You won," he nodded to your toddler and swept strands of hair from his perspiring forehead, grinning at you, "Are you cold?"
"A little," you shrugged as your daughter climbed up on the bench, huffing with effort, clinging to your arm.
"Wanna grab a hot chocolate on the way home?" he gestured towards the other side of the nearby pond where the city's skyline collided with the heavy clouds, "I think it's gonna rain soon."
"Hmm," you hummed, stroking your belly with one hand while trying to keep your daughter from climbing over the back of the bench with your other hand, "My feet are tired, Miles."
"I'll rub them when we get home," he reached over to grab the girl from your grip and held her to his chest as she giggled, stirring in his arms.
"Fine," you smiled, "You better keep your promise."
Miles nodded, adjusting your daughter to his hip and reaching an arm to help you get off the bench.
"Pissing off a pregnant lady? Not on my bucket list."
"Miles!" you hissed, "Language!"
He grinned.
"I'm sorry, babe."
CHRIS
"You're kidding," his mouth was a thin line, his eyes fixed on yours, "Is this a prank?"
"No, not at all!" you shook your head with a laugh, "I'm pregnant. I swear. Took the test this morning," you flashed him a grin and grabbed the test from the edge of the sink, showing him, "See?"
Chris bent down to look at the test, still looking suspicious. Then his eyes widened and he smiled, letting out a laugh.
"Woah! Wait," he grabbed your wrist and his other hand shot up to his cheek as his mouth hung open, "Wait, I'm gonna be a father?"
You nodded, laughing.
"You need to sit down?" you patted his shoulder as he looked absolutely gobsmacked, leaning against the sink, his eyes fixed on the bathmat as he tried to process the news.
"Actually, yeah," he mumbled and sat on the toilet, burying his head into his hands for a second before looking up at you with the widest smile imaginable.
"You're pregnant," he huffed out a shaky laugh, taking your hand, "You're really pregnant."
You sat on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing his left temple as you stroked his back soothingly.
"You're so amazing," he breathed out, "A baby? What the hell...?"
You giggled.
"I know, this is crazy," you muttered against the collar of his uniform shirt, "But I think we'll be fine."
"Yeah," Chris sighed, placing his hand on your cheek and stroked it with his thumb, "I think so too."
                                        ×
You rocked your son in your lap, stroking his platinum hair between pats on his back, a towel slung over your shoulder.
"He ready?" Chris muttered, outstretching his arms.
"I got a few good ones out of him," you sighed, lifting the gurgling and cooing baby by his shoulders and placing it in his arms, "But I don't know, we'll see if he goes to sleep."
Chris nodded and left you to fold the dry towel back into the linen closet of your small bungalow's bathroom. You rubbed your temples, tiredness stinging every muscle in your body as you dragged your feet to follow Chris to the bedroom.
His large form was bent over the crib, the back of his t-shirt lifting up slightly as he placed the boy into his bed, his head brushing against the hanging stars of the mobile. You walked up behind him and tugged on his shirt.
"Thanks," he mumbled.
"You're welcome," you yawned, "Is he going to sleep?"
"He's not putting up a fight," Chris straightened his back and looked down at you as you reached over his side to stroke the infant's cheek. His eyes were already close. You didn't know how Chris did it. He had a pacifying effect on your son whereas with you, he only seemed to be as rowdy as a three-month old can be.
You smiled tiredly. Your eyes skimmed over the little embroidered shooting stars of his blanky, the pastel yellow giraffe resting near his feet and the washed-out, dusky pink pig toy that he had wrapped his tiny hands around, squishing it against his chubby cheek.
"He loves your piggy," you leaned your head against Chris' shoulder.
He nodded.
"They're matching," he pointed one thick finger to his pink romper, smiling gently.
"Oh yeah," you laughed, pressing a kiss to your boyfriend's upper arm, "Unintentional on my part."
"My three little pigs," he squeezed your hand gently, "One," he patted the head of the stuffed pig, "two," he pinched his son's toe, "three," he kissed your temple, his lips soothing your headache as the two of you stood over the crib in the soft hue of the nighlight.
THE TWINS
"Congratulations."
The deadpan delivery made you a little nervous. You thought you could see slight smiles on both of their faces in the flickering light of the cell. You felt a little annoyed, you had expected a far greater reaction. Maybe you were hoping for too much. You adjusted yourself on the bunk.
"That's it?"
"We're happy," the taller man said, "But you seem to be avoiding something."
"Which one of us is it?" his brother completed the question, kicking a stray pebble. You stared at them. You couldn't believe it. Why did they have to overthink now, out of all the situations in the whole wide world?
You clicked your tongue.
"Does it matter?"
"Only if it matters to you," the shorter man reached up to scratch at his head, ruffling his dark, spiky hair. You watched his hand, wondering for a fleeting moment if the baby would have the same kind of hair. Rough and thick. But smooth in your hands.
"It really doesn't," you squared your jaw, "I don't care. As long as the both of you are here with me. Don't leave me."
Maybe they heard the crack in your voice. They both turned their gazes to you, their eyes soft as they watched you from the shadows. You slumped forward, resting your elbows on your thighs. Then you heard the soft sound of their feet hitting the floor and two masses plopping on the mattress on either side of you. A warm, large hand rested on your shoulder.
"You're ours, forever," you heard the taller man grunt in your ear, "We will protect you."
"Our lamb, our dearest," his brother whispered, placing his hand on the slight curve of your belly. You leaned into his touch, revelling in the squish of their bodies pressed against you, shoulder to shoulder. You closed your eyes, relief washing over you.
                                       ×
You pressed your sweaty forehead against his bicep, your throat raw from screaming as you felt a fantastic emptiness below your ribcage as the wails of your newborn filled your ears, its purplish skin glistening with mucus and blood as you wiggled your fingers at the hands that held the baby above your abdomen.
"Give it to me," you sobbed with intense relief as the balding, taller man, your other partner, placed the baby in your arms, where his brother settled his own hand underneath the child's head, bringing it closer to you, shushing the infant with a low, gentle voice.
Your vision was blurry.
"What is it?" you grunted.
"A boy," he muttered in your ear, placing the child on your heaving chest and you wrapped your arms around your son, as tears rolled down your cheeks and you panted, smiling at your baby, only choked sobs coming from you.
"A boy!" the other man called out over his shoulder to the crack of the door, wiping his bloody hands on your thighs. The congregation hooted and hollered behind the door and you distantly heard Father Martin singing praises to the Lord over the rushing of blood in your ears.
"Oh, bless!"
"It's like Christmas!"
"Everyone shut the fuck up!"
You laughed tiredly at the voices behind the door but your laugh turned into a screech as you felt a burning sensation in your loins. Something was wrong.
"What is it?" the taller twin furrowed his brows as you shoved your son to his brother's arms, gripping the sheets underneath you and spreading your legs again.
"I think there's another one coming, fuck!" you bellowed, propping your body up on your elbows. The taller man ducked between your legs and you felt his hands and you saw and felt white hot iron spill all over you as you screamed, his brother's fingers intertwined between yours and you growled as you heard another wail join the chorus of terrific noise rattling inside your head.
You felt your lungs swell and everything hurt but you saw, at the end of another umbilical chord, another baby. Twins. You should've known.
"A girl," her father muttered, grinning to you as she reached her tiny fists to pound at your chest and you stroked her back and the world behind the door ceased to exist as the brothers looked down on you with tender eyes, holding their fruit in your tired, sweaty arms as you rocked them senselessly and breathed deeply, smiling at everything in the room before you slumped back on the shorter man's chest and closed your eyes, feeling two pairs of arms wiping you down and heard low muttering.
"You did so well, you did so well."
Your head spun.
RICK
"No way," Rick held your shoulders at an arms length, his fingers digging into your flesh as he shook you gently, "No way you're pregnant."
It was almost frightening how wide his eyes were.
"Yes, I am," you gave him a slight smile, testing the waters. A silence fell between the two of you. Your heart beat like crazy. He was never this quiet. You could almost hear the gears turning in his head, underneath those luscious greying curls.
Then, a wide grin flashed on his face. He huffed through his nose, straightening his back and he pulled you into a tight hug.
"Pregnant!" he exclaimed, letting out a breathy chuckle as he leaned his head back and fixed his eyes on you, his hands sliding from your shoulders to your cheeks, "We're having a baby!"
"Yeah," you nodded your head, laughing.
Rick leaned down to kiss you on the tip of your nose, squishing your cheeks gently as you pressed your hands on his chest, rubbing circles on his skin through the soft fabric of his pink dress shirt.
"Oh, you sweet thing," Rick sighed, pressing his forehead against yours, "You're too good to me."
                                       ×
You poured a handful of cereal to a shallow plastic bowl and set it in front of your daughter who was fiddling with her bib, tracing the stitches with her tiny fingers. You tickled her tummy and cooed at her before straightening your back and looking at Rick, who was making pancakes on the stove, flour and pieces of eggshell all over the counters.
He had insisted on making you breakfast since it was your birthday. Usually he took you to a restaurant on your birthday but after the birth of your daughter he wanted to stay home as much as possible.
You eyed his apron. A honeymoon gift from a colleague, or so he had claimed. "My meat is hand rubbed, well seasoned, aged to perfection and always hot". Rick always wore it when he was making you a little romantic breakfast. Never in the neighbourhood barbecues though.
"You're gonna have to get rid of that apron," you gestured towards his chest, holding back your laughter.
"Yeah, yeah, I will," Rick looked down and sighed, then straightened out the fabric of the front, "When she learns to read, I'll throw it out, okay? I'll part with my dear apron for your sake."
"No, you're good. If she's got your brains, it'll take ten more years," you smirked, pinching your daughter's cheek as she babbled in her chair, fingers dipped into the dry fruit loops in her cup.
"O-ho-ho!" Rick laughed dryly, turning his grinning face to you, eyebrows high, "You want to insult your personal chef now! I'll make sure I burn yours," he scoffed and waved the spatula at you like a medieval weapon.
You walked up to him and wrapped your arms around his waist from behind as he turned to the stove.
"You know I only say it because it's true," you grinned against his shoulder and reached up to kiss the nape of his neck. He shuddered.
"Ticklish!" he warned.
"Oh, are you now?" you giggled, skittering your fingers up to his armpits and he squirmed with laughter, your daughter squealing in her chair, clapping her hands together at the show.
"No, stop, honey, the stove is on," Rick laughed, "Please - have mercy!" he turned to you and grabbed your wrists, giving you a grin, wrenching your hands off of him.
"Can you behave?" Rick cocked his head towards your daughter who was still giggling. His laugh always made her hyper.
"No, and your pancakes are burning," you grinned and gave him a quick, sweet kiss on the lips. He kissed you back tenderly before registering your words and swearing under his breath, whipping his head around to face the stove. Your daughter giggled again and Rick's eyes flickered to her and his face softened.
"Daddy's a klutz, isn't he?" he cooed to her from across the kitchen, "Daddy should feed this to the neighbor's dog, right, princess?"
She laughed again in and jumped up and down in her chair. You saw Rick mouth an "awh" before turning back to the stove.
You licked your lips. How many kids did he say he wanted again?
EDDIE
"Yes, yes!" he bellowed, as he took you by your waist and lifted you several feet into the air, spinning you around while you pounded playfully on his chest with your fists, laughing as tears streamed down your face, "Finally! Oh, I love you, I love you!"
He pressed you to his chest which shook with emotion as he breathed in the scent of your hair. You stroked his broad shoulders, stifling your own sobs by biting your lip and pressing your head into his chest. A warm silence filled the air as Eddie pressed soft little kisses to the crown of your head, muttering softly. You felt him rock you gently to the tune of the old radio.
"My darling. The mother of my children. I can't believe it."
                                      ×
"She's beautiful, just like her mother," Eddie whispered to you as the both of you stood over the improvised cot, watching your newborn daughter wiggle inside the many layers of blankets you had managed to find in the vocational block.
Eddie bent down to his daughter, his eyes glistening with adoration and tenderness, stroking the curls of soft black hair on her little head. She whined, leaning into his hand.
"She's got your eyes," you sighed and massaged his shoulder, leaning down as well, your nose mere inched from the little bundle in the cot.
"Really?" Eddie murmured, rubbing the pinkness of her skin softly, "I thought they were yours, darling."
"They might change," you whispered, curling your finger under her chin, "Newborns often change a little bit. My hair wasn't this color for sure when I got out of the womb," you smiled at your groom as his massive frame covered the baby as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. Another little grunt spilled from her lips and she screwed her eyes shut, kicking at her covers tiredly.
"Well, I'll be here to see if something changes," Eddie nodded, straightening his back and placing his chin on the top of your head, "You should go rest, dearest."
You looked down at the dried streaks of blood running down your legs and chuckled.
"I should go get a bath."
"I'll come with you," Eddie said, kissing the top of your head and rubbing your waist with his hand, almost needily.
"What, and leave the baby here?" you looked up at him.
"Oh," Eddie blushed a little bit, "Yes, I -..."
"Almost forgot?" you giggled, bending down to pick up your daughter, cringing at the pain in your loins but being flooded with oxytocin almost immediately after your skin touched hers.
"No!" Eddie blurted out defensively.
You turned to him with your newborn daughter in your arms.
"Take her," you said softly, standing on the tips of your toes, placing her in his arms, "Mind the head. Just like that."
Eddie gasped softly when you placed the child onto his hands for the first time. He looked at the stirring bundle of rags and pink, wrinkly skin and smiled, his eyes glinting in the dim light.
"She's tiny," he sighed, "Our baby. My god," he sniffled a little bit, exhaling deeply. You leaned over to kiss his cheek, stroking his forearm. The legacy he had always wanted. Here. Finally.
JEREMY
"Wait, what?" he lifted up the rickety plastic test that you had placed in front of him with his morning espresso, fixing his steely blue eyes on you "What's this?"
You just smiled, sipping your tea.
"What is this?" he repeated, wiggling the pregnancy test at you. Then something clicked.
"Are you pregnant?" Jeremy's voice was shaky, still hoarse from sleep as his eyes flickered between you, your stomach, and the red lines on the stick of plastic.
You nodded into your mug.
He leaned back on his chair, his face blank for a moment. Then he threw his arms up, his eyes much brighter, all tiredness washed away.
"You're pregnant!" he yelled, exasperated, his face melting into a smile, "I fucking knew it!" he rushed over to you in less than a second, his coffee cup clattering loudly against the marble of the countertop as he slammed it down, freeing his hands. You laughed as he wrapped his arms around you, the scent of his aftershave filling your nose as he kissed you, bitter coffee lingering on his lips.
                                      ×
"I'm home!" you called out from the hall, pulling the door shut with a heavy thump, kicking off your boots. You could already smell the scent of some microwave meal from the kitchen mixed with the scent of Jeremy's cologne. The distant jingle of a kids' show. You shook off your coat and started walking towards the living room, leaving your shopping bags on the doormat, fancy tissue paper rustling against sturdy bags with even fancier logos printed on them.
"Hey," you peeked your head in through the open entryway of the living room, the lacquered surfaces of sleek black furniture reflecting pastel colors from the massive plasma TV on the opposite wall. You could hear light snoring coming from the designer couch. You smiled and walked over to your husband, leaning down on the outside back of the couch.
He was sleeping in an upright position with your son curled up in his lap, Jeremy's feet slung over the glass coffee table. A bad habit. Stray crayons and colouring books littered the expensive carpet. Your son let out a whistling huff from his nose and shifted on his father's lap.
"Jer," you whispered softly, brushing your fingers against his hair, leaning over from behind him to place hover your chin over is shoulder, "Jer, wake up."
Jeremy jolted awake, looking around him in a few milliseconds of tired panic, spotted you and smiled.
"Hey, honey," he sighed, "We were just watching..." he narrowed his eyes at the television, "Super-d-... Wait, Super-dog and friends? Yeah. That."
"I see," you kissed his cheek, resting your chin on his shoulder, looking down at your son, "Had fun colouring?"
"He stole my pen," Jeremy pointed to the floor where a crudely drawn stick figure with too many fingers smiled with empty eyes beside a sloppily coloured Winnie the Pooh page. Some scribbled text on the bottom. MY DAD WORKS ATT MERKOF.
You chuckled.
"You guys are too cute," you rubbed his shoulder, "Wanna take him to bed? I brought some wine."
Jeremy stretched before wrapping his arms around your son, lifting him up carefully against his chest.
"He's gotten big," he remarked with a strained voice.
"Four years go by pretty fast," you hummed, stroking your son's red cheek with the back of your hand.
"Feels like yesterday."
"It really does."
"You haven't aged a day," Jeremy's eyes flicked to you and he smiled tenderly, "Gorgeous," he added.
You winked.
"Get him to bed, I'll go open the wine."
FRANK
"Huh?"
He finished licking the edge of the joint, his mouth hanging open slightly as his eyes fixed on your face.
"I'm pregnant," you repeated, slightly louder, "So you better not light that," you gestured to his hands.
Frank blinked at you, his face blank.
"A baby? We're gonna have a baby?"
The corners of his lips dipped down. For a second you thought he might burst into tears. Then a strained roar came from him as he jumped up from the dingy couch and jumped up to you, gripping your hands and leading you around the living room while jumping up and down in a frenzied dance, laughing with tears in his eyes.
"We're gonna have a baby," you hugged him tight, joining his feverish movements as the two of you jumped up and down like idiots, the creaking of the floorboards below you making you laugh, "We're gonna have a baby!" he yelled.
Someone pounded on the wall from the next apartment over.
"You're sure?" he stilled, panting, lifting his hands to your cheeks, "You're definitely sure?"
You nodded.
He kissed you, his scraggly beard scraping against your skin, his bare chest pressing to you.
"Oh, angel, I -... I have to..." Frank breathed against you, his eyes widening again, "I have to call my mama!"
You threw your head back and laughed as he vaulted over the back of the couch, skidded on the floor with his hole-speckled socks and dove into the bedroom in less than two seconds. You down, taking his joint from the floor between your fingers and shoving it in between the couch cushions. For safe keeping. He would need it in a few months. But from now on he had to smoke outside.
                                       ×
"Mom, mom," you felt a little hand smack your shoulder and you buried your head deeper into your pillow. You woke up in a jolt.
"What is it?" you groaned, your eyes crusty with sleep, "What's the time?"
"It's six a.m," you heard your daughter's giddy voice. You could tell from her voice she was grinning ear to ear. No emergency. Probably. Then you realized that her voice sounded kind of muffled.
You moaned. You still had an hour before your alarm would go off. But it seemed like your alarm was here. With lots of effort, you rose up and rubbed your eyes.
Your daughter was standing by your bedside, a sheet draped over her like a veil and a latex skeleton mask on her face. It was way too big for her. A silence filled the room. Then you could hear her breathe in deeply.
"I'm Santa Muerte," she whispered dramatically.
You stared.
"You're what now?"
Her shoulders slumped.
"Da-ad!" she yelled over her shoulder at the open door of the bedroom, "Mom doesn't know who I am!"
"Mom what?" you heard Frank's voice from the kitchen. They were both so loud.
Your daughter inhaled, ready to scream louder but you shushed her.
"Of course you're -... What's with the costume, baby?"
She shrugged, peeling the mask off of her face, giving you a gap-toothed smile.
"It was my idea," you heard Frank say as he appeared in the doorway, and to your surprise, was carrying a tray of food, still clad in his sleep attire. Faded boxers and an old band shirt.
"Oh, angel," you smiled at him tiredly, "You shouldn't have."
"I wanted to," he grinned behind his beard, "Happy mother's day."
You had forgotten.
"Oh, yeah," you mumbled as he set the tray on your nightstand and leaned in to kiss your cheek as you propped yourself up on your pillows.
"I wanted to scare you," your daughter grumbled and reached for a slice of toast but Frank snatched her wrist.
"Mom first," he said sternly, then his face twisted into a quizzical expression, "Why'd you want to scare mom? I thought you just wanted to perform some metal or something. The mask was mine," he added to you as you giggled into your slice of bread, swiping crumbs off the sheets.
Your daughter shrugged again.
"Thought it would be fun."
Frank opened his mouth to protest his involvement but you just laughed, ruffling your daughter's long black hair.
"Weirdo," you took another bite of bread and offered the rest of it to her as she scooted up to sit on your legs. Frank sat on the edge as well, taking your hand, rubbing his thumb on the cheap ring he'd bought you ages ago, eyeing the way the gold glinted in the dim light of the bedroom.
"Don't even think about replacing it," you warned and shoved a piece of toast in front of his mouth and he smiled before taking a bite.
DENNIS
"W-well I'll be goddamned," he grinned, enclosing your hand in both of his, lifting the bundle to his lips and placing a tender kiss to your fingers, "Y'all hear that? Me, a-a daddy? Shit..."
You laughed, reaching up to place a kiss on his cheek as he cradled your hand in his grip, so softly, like he was holding a baby bird.
"Don't get all soft on me, Dennie," you giggled, "You're going to make me cry."
He shook his head.
"D'you think th-they'll like him?"
"Who? The baby?"
He nodded, his grin twisting into a solemn look, his dark brown eyes fixed on yours, glimmering with intense happiness and even more intense worry.
"I'm sure they will," you whispered and stroked his cheek, "All that matters is me and you right now, okay?"
He nodded again.
                                      ×
"Hey, lil' guy," Dennis cooed, stroking your son's tiny, pink and wrinkled face with his index finger as he wailed and screeched in his arms, "He's sure g-got a pair o' lungs on him," he turned to you, chuckling as you held your arms open, as you tried to ignore the searing pain between legs. You were flooded with a need to hold your newborn. Hold them both. Your Dennie and his little boy.
"Give him to me," you sighed with a weak smile, "And get us a rag. We need to clean him."
Dennis placed the newborn onto your chest and he writhed against you as you rocked the child, shushing him gently.
"Careful, he's slippery," he cocked his head, flashing a wide toothy smile as he eyed the two of you, "They thought I didn't have enough man in me," he sighed.
"We shut them up," you winked at him and he nodded, reaching over to the side table, retrieving a torn piece of cloth and placing it in your outstretched hand.
"We showed 'em."
×
(screaming and crying and sobbing and shitting into my pillow rn because i can never be a baby mommy for fictional insane men)
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songbirdstyles · 10 months ago
Note
I would love to read about H doing his and bubs daily evening routine. Cuddling, changing/bathing the baby, feeding 😭 just dad h in his natural element
7:30 is Delaney’s wake up time - perhaps she has some sort of biological clock telling her to wake up at half-past-seven on the dot, but she never fails to. Toddles out of bed, bare feet padding on the hardwood lining her bedroom floor and the hallway as she pushes her door open, sweaty palms slipping on the doorknob. She’s generally told not to go into yours and Harry’s room when the door is closed (there have been just a few too many near-incidents where she’s nearly walked in on you two to the point where you feel a rule needs to be established) but her sleepy mind tends to forget the rule in the morning -
You give her a free pass to barge in on you two in the morning. You’re usually still asleep, anyway, and you’re not sure how many more years you’ll have of feeling the bed dip as she plops down between you and Harry.
“Mornin’, bub,” groans Harry hardly a moment after Delaney has sat between the two of you, pajama pants riding up enough to expose her ankles as she leans forward to rest her head on Harry’s hipbone just as you begin to stir beside her. “How’d you sleep, hmm?”
“Good,” says the 3 year old, reaching a palm up to brush loose curls out of her eyes as Harry pushes himself to sit up, hooking his arms beneath Delaney’s armpits to lift her onto his lap. She curls into his chest immediately, forehead resting on his shoulder. “M’hungry, daddy.”
Just as every morning goes, the baby monitor resting on Harry’s bedside table crackles out a few weak noises - the sounds of your newborn daughter stirring in her sleep, a soft whine escaping her throat through the small device. She tends to wake up around the same time as Delaney (likely due to her older sister’s noisy trip down the hallway to yours and Harry’s room) and you know you only have a few minutes until she starts crying with either a full diaper or hunger or both.
Harry reaches a hand to your face, brushing your hair off of your cheek as you slowly open your eyes, smiling once your eyes meet your husband’s and beginning to push yourself to sit when you see Delaney’s toothy grin. “Good morning, sweetheart,” is your go-to morning greeting to your daughter, and she leans down, Harry’s arm wrapped around her stomach, to press her lips to the side of your cheek. “Do you want me to get the baby?”
“I’ve got her,” Harry says without a moment of hesitation, already pushing himself up more, legs swinging over the edge of the bed. He’s taken on a significant portion of morning and middle-of-the-night routines (excluding feedings) now that the baby has come, opting to give you even just a few moments more of rest before having to start your day. His sweatpants hang low on his hips, shirt long discarded the night before on the carpet. “Gotta go make this one breakfast, right?”
Delaney nods, legs wrapping around Harry’s torso when he stands, arm hooked beneath her bum to keep her tight to him. You give him a small smile when he turns to look at you, and you let your eyes shut for another few moments of sleep as he leaves your bedroom, shutting the door softly behind him.
Maude is awake and grumpy when Harry makes his way to her room, pushing open the door gently and instructing Delaney to be extra super silent with a soft shh to the toddler in his arms. The side of her crib is pushed down with minimal effort, dipping down to scoop the newborn into his arm, watching as her face contorts from anger to a brief look of happiness at seeing her father before it turns back to anger, and Harry frowns.
“Laney, babe,” Harry whispers, making sure not to speak too loudly as to make Maude angrier - an angry Maude is a crying Maude, and a crying Maude is an awake wife. “If I put y’down, d’you wanna go an’ wait in the kitchen so I can change your sister’s diaper?”
Delaney isn’t thrilled with the proposition of leaving Harry’s arms but more than that she hates seeing her sister upset or, God forbid, hearing her cry with a full diaper, so she nods, pushing her curls out of her face again as Harry bends down to deposit her on the floor. Her feet tap loudly against the floor as she waddles out of the room, and a few moments later Harry hears her beginning her descent down the stairs.
“Alright, missy,” Harry says, then, to the newborn baby nestled in his arms. “Time t’change your diaper, hmm?”
He still feels a wave of emotion looking down at her, even when she looks as upset as she does now, remembering that, this time last month, she hadn’t been with them - had been restless in your stomach, instead, kicking at all hours of the day in a way that’s reminiscent of her fussy demeanor now. Having two instead of one is something entirely different, more difficult yet twice as magical, and he feels tears prickling his eyes as he lies her on the changing table. Fingers reach down to undo the clasps of her onesie, pudgy legs kicking and arms reaching up to stretch.
Diaper changed - pajamas changed to one of the outfits Gemma had bought the baby, though it’s still a bit big around her limbs - grabbing a spare hair tie from the guest bathroom - and Harry’s picking Maude back up into his arms, rocking her lightly as he shuts her bedroom door and heads downstairs to the kitchen. Delaney’s seated firmly on her chair, legs swinging back and forth as she rests her head in her arms, humming softly beneath her breath.
“What d’you want t’eat, Laney?” questions Harry, running his fingers through Delaney’s messy curls once he’s close enough to reach. “Waffles? Eggs?”
“Eggs, daddy.”
“What’s the magic word?”
“Please, daddy.”
“Good girl,” Harry nods, grinning down at his daughter just as Maude’s flailing leg jabs him in the abdomen - he looks down at the baby, humming softly. “Gonna get your pillow, hmm? Your boppy pillow?”
“I’ll take her,” says a voice from behind him, and your husband turns to see you coming down the stairs, hand trailing down the railing as you make your way to the kitchen, slippers masking the sounds of your feet on the floor. “She’s hungry, love.”
“You’re supposed t’be sleepin’-”
“I was sleeping,” you interrupt him, taking Maude from his grasp once you’re close enough, and he ducks down to press a kiss to your lips, hand reaching around to press to the small of your back through your shirt. Well - his shirt, technically, but it’s been yours since you got too big for your sleep shirts when you were pregnant with Delaney. “She’s hungry, Har - nothing you can do to fix it when I’ve got the goods.”
Your husband laughs at that as you hold Maude to your chest with one arm, using the other to pull out the chair beside Delaney, leaning down to kiss the top of her head as you lift your shirt, ducking Maude’s head beneath the fabric so her lips can grasp onto your boob. “Good morning, baby,” you say again, and she smiles as Harry begins bustling with getting the eggs out of the refrigerator and turning on the stove. “Did you dream well?”
“Mhm,” says Delaney, head nodding up and down firmly. “We went on a roller coaster - the one at the park - the big one, mommy.”
“Did you? Was it fun?”
“It was fun,” she confirms, drumming her palms against the kitchen table. “Can we go to it? Please?”
You elect not to mention that she can hardly ride the kid roller coasters at the amusement park, let alone the tallest one there. “Maybe in the summer. How’s that sound?”
“Fun!”
“Yeah, fun.”
Within the next couple of minutes Harry has finished cooking the eggs, setting a portion in front of Delaney with the small fork she prefers to use and then a plate in front of you, piled high with eggs.
“God, Har,” you laugh, thumb brushing against Maude’s cheek when she pulls away from your chest with a soft breath, exhaling against your skin. “I can’t eat all of this.”
“Y’should,” he tells you, standing behind Delaney as she digs into her eggs. His hands go down to her hair, messy and frizzy from sleep, and his fingers pull the strands lightly into a ponytail, tying it at the back of her scalp with the hair tie he’d brought from upstairs. “Gonna make toast, too. Y’want toast, Laney?”
“Yes, please.”
“Good manners, babe,” you applaud Delaney, smiling when she grins, satisfied with your praise, before you turn back to Harry. “I’ll try my best. Can’t promise anything.”
He scoffs at that, shaking his head as he turns to dig through the cabinets until he’s found the cinnamon swirl bread that both you and Delaney love. “Can’t promise - you’re somethin’ else.”
You hum softly, tugging your shirt down over your chest and back from over Maude’s head, the baby’s cheek pressed against your shoulder as you lift her to burp. “Just make the breakfast, Har.”
“M’doin’ it!”
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fandom-puff · a year ago
Text
Mating
Pairing: Remus Lupin X Reader
Requested by: anon
Summary: you’ve done a good enough job of covering up your attraction to your new colleague... that is until the moon cycle heightens his senses...
AN: I’m getting there with these requests! I’ve been going through them at my own pace- sorry if I’ve rejected your request though- id rather not write it if I don’t have the inspiration to do so 💖💖💖
Also I went to TOWN on this one, so feedback is greatly appreciated !!
Gif creds to owner as usual x
Warnings: rough, possessive sex, swearing, breeding kink , werewolf tricks (scents, mating, knotting)
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Drawing your robe tighter around yourself, silently cursing Severus for putting people in detention. You had agreed to take over his patrols for the night, when in reality, you wanted nothing more than to go to bed. Sighing, you held your lit wand out in front of you, walking up the corridor, occasionally nodding at a passing ghost, telling Peeves to bugger off, greeting snoozing portraits...
The silence of the dark corridors allowed you to mull over your thoughts, figure out some lesson plans, what you would get people for christmas the next time you visited Hogsmeade, but as usual, your train of thought wandered, soon landing on a particular Professor. Smiling dumbly to yourself, you pictures him in your mind, from his grey-flecked hair to his shabby, patched robes; his kind, tired eyes to his light stubble and moustache; his trim chest to his long, elegant fingers...
Shuddering slightly, you tugged your lip between your teeth. What that man could do with his fingers, you mused, remembering at dinner earlier that evening, watching as he wrapped his hands around his goblet- you came to the conclusion that those fingers would look much better wrapped around your throat...
You were so lost in your thoughts that you bumped headlong into the object of your desires. How did you know it was him? Was it his gentle hands grasping your arms to stop you falling backwards? Was it the gentle words he uttered asking if you were okay? No. It was his scent, of all things, which lingered on his comfy knitted jumper- tea and books and... the forbidden forest... you couldn’t help but inhale a few gulps before mumbling your apology, making to move past him. Those hands grabbed your arm again, stopping you dead in your tracks.
“Why not walk with me, YN? Your patrol won’t be as lonely,” he said kindly, smiling down at you. You could see a slight glint of his white teeth in the wandlight as you nodded. Together and in relative silence, you strolled the corridors, occasionally murmuring to one another- yes the weather had been a bit rubbish lately, that book is excellent, no I didn’t know it’s the full moon in three days...
You knew about remus’s condition, as everyone on the staff did. Why was he bringing it up? Did he think you were scared? Did he think you would run away once it clicked? You didn’t care that he was a werewolf, of course you didn’t. If anything, it often made you wonder what he was like in bed before the Full moon. He seemed tired all the time, but you had read about mating- would mild-mannered Remus Lupin evolve into a primal beast? Would he dig his nails into your skin as he got carried away? Would he fuck you from behind like an animal? Did he have a deep-rooted urge to fill you with his seed and watch you swell with his pups...?
“YN? You aren’t listening to a word I’m saying, are you?” Remus’s voice shook you from your depraved thoughts.
“Hmm?” You asked, letting out a shaky breath. Your knees were wobbly and you could feel heat and wetness pooling in your knickers. You would most certainly be fucking yourself tonight thinking of him.
“I said we’re at my rooms. You’re very welcome to come in for a cup of tea if you like? Might have something stronger in a cupboard somewhere for a nightcap,” he said, smirking slightly. Were your eyes deceiving you or did he just lick his lips?
“I... Er... yes please?” You said, nibbling your lip. Your midnight masturbation would have to wait tonight it seemed. You took a seat on one of Lupin’s armchairs as he pottered about the kitchenette, fixing tea for you both. He soon carried it over and sat opposite you as you sipped at your drinks, once again silent. Remus inhaled deeply through his nose and leg out a soft sigh, before fixing you with a stare, his eyes flashing amber- or was that just the firelight playing tricks?
“God, I wish I was a legilimens,” he hummed. You frowned, cocking up your eye brow and setting your teacup down.
“Why’s that?” You asked, leaning forward, your lips slightly parted.
“Because I’d be able to figure out what’s got you so aroused,” he murmured. You gulped, biting your lip hard as you stared at one another before your lips were smashed together in a messy, desperate kiss. Your teeth clashed and you were both grabbing handfuls of the other’s hair as Remus pulled you into his lap, moaning lowly. “I guess that answers that question,” he grunted as you tipped your head back and sighed.
“H-how did you know?” You gasped as his teeth scraped right over your pulse point.
“Your eyes glaze over when you daydream,” he grinned, nibbling your earlobe. “And do you want to know a lesser-known fact about werewolves?” You nodded eagerly, your nails scraping over his scalp. “Around and on the full moon, our senses peak. Touch, hearing, sight, taste... smell... I could smell your arousal before we were even on the same corridor, YN... now tell me... was that all for me?”
You shuddered as his growl vibrates through your throat. “Yes!” You whimpered, trying to grind on him, but there were too many layers between you both and you whined out dejectedly. “A-all for you, Remus, f-for ages now!” Remus grunted and licked at the blood vessel at the side of your neck, you pulse throbbing against his tongue.
“I know, darling. Moony knows...” you sighed softly, eyes rolling back as you felt gentle hands on your waist, stilling your movements. “If we carry on, YN... Moony will take over. He will claim you as his mate, eternally. If that is what you want, I am more than happy to oblige, but if you are even a shred unsure, please leave my chambers. We can discuss this after the moon when it is safe-”
You pressed a tender kiss to his lips, pulling away and resting your forehead against his. “I want this. I’ve wanted this for ages... please, remus, I’m yours. I’ve felt... drawn to you since we met. It makes sense,”
He smiled weakly. “You understand what you are getting yourself into, this close to the moon? Our first coupling together will not be tender. Passionate, most certainly, but by no means gentle,” you could feel his hands trembling from the effort of keeping control.
“I’m yours, remus,” you whispered, bringing one of his hands down to cup your soaked, clothed heat, biting your lip hard. “I want this. Please, remus, mate with me,”
It was as if something snapped inside him. Without the aid of your hand, he pressed his hand into your heat, feeling how slick you were even through your knickers, attacking your neck with feverish kisses as you rutted against his hand, the heel of his palm mashing into your clit in the most deliciously searing way. Reluctantly, remus pulled his hand away, kissing away your whimpers of protest as he carried you to his bedroom, flinging you down on the bed and hovering over you, his thumb and forefinger tracing the hem of your shirt. “Take it off, remus,” you begged, and he was all too happy to oblige, soon stripping you to your underwear. Gulping, he looked you in the eye as he trailed one finger up your navel, grinning as you shivered and arched your back. “Need to feel you, Remus, please!” You pleaded. Normally, remus would be unwilling to undress fully, ashamed of his scars, but this close to the Moon, he had only one thing on his mind. Almost comically quickly, he tugged his jumper, shirt and trousers off, kicking them aside, practically pouncing on you to kiss you again. You pouted at not being quite able to see his erection straining at his boxers, but were quickly consoled when you felt it pressing hard against your thighs.
“Remus!” You moaned, trailing your hands up his strong back, your fingertips dancing over the silvery ridges of his scars, clutching onto him as though your life depended on it. You could feel the heat radiating off him, hear his pulse quickening just like your own, hear him panting above you. You were so close to him, yet so far, your underwear providing an unbearably wide wall between you both as you longed to feel him against your most sensitive parts. As if reading your mind, remus briefly pulled away and with a flick of his wand, you were both completely bare. Mouth ajar, you eyed up his cock, feeling your cunt clench around nothing at just the thought of accommodating his throbbing length and girth. Sensing your worry, remus nuzzled his face into your neck and kissed your pulse point gently. “I won’t hurt you, darling,” he whispered. “Nor will Moony,” nodding, you spread your legs. Remus groaned as he inhaled, already getting drunk off the scent of your soaked nether region. “Another time, my dear, I am going to drink from your cunt until you can’t come any more,”
You shivered and nodded, biting your lip. “That had best be a promise,” you moaned out, pushing his hair out of his face, breathy gasps and moans escaping you as you felt the bulbous head of his cock tapping against your throbbing clit. “Please, remus,” you begged, your legs moving instinctively to wrap around him.
Your begging was all he needed. He pushed his thick cock into you, stretching you out, grasping your hips to stop your wiggling as he revelled in the soaking heat of your clenching channel, soon moving his hands to grasp your thighs and hold them further apart. “I am going to mate with you, yn,” he growled. “I am going to claim you as mine, and I will be yours. I will fill you with my seed until your swollen with my pups. And when I come, you will feel my cock swell inside you to make sure my seed takes root,”
The filth spewing from his lips had your head reeling, and you bucked your hips up eagerly, begging him to do all of those things as he began fucking you relentlessly, the sounds of skin slapping and the wet noises of your coupling filling the small room as you gripped onto eachother. Remus’s lips found yours and you moaned loudly into his mouth as his tongue collided with yours before he sucked on it gently, sending jolts of pleasure sizzling through your every nerve. You had never felt more alive, more full, more worshiped than you did in that moment, your nails dug into remus’s arms as his thrusting became sloppy as he neared his end. “P-please don’t stop, Remus! Don’t pull out, please! Need to feel you fill me up properly!” You cried, your head resting on his shoulder. Remus grunted and nodded, his hips snapping hard against yours as he neared his peak.
“Bite my neck, YN, love!” He grunted. “Mark me as your mate while I do the same to- Ah! Fuck! Good girl!” You sunk your teeth into his pulse point, sucking harshly. Instinctively, you knew just where to bite, and you gently licked over the wound, moaning lowly as you felt the base of his cock begin to swell as he stilled inside you, the first spurt of cum painting your walls as his groaned out lowly. He basked in his orgasm for a brief moment, before leaning down to suck and bite your neck the same way you had.
You screamed.
The bite to your neck caused a white-hot surge of pleasure to rip through you as you felt your trembling body come undone, your stretched walls clenching tight around Remus’s swollen cock, milking every last drop out of him as you panted, tears streaming down your cheeks as you sobbed from the overwhelming pleasure and the rush of hormones your mating had caused.
Cooing gently, remus lowered you carefully onto your side, facing him, his cock still swollen inside you for the time being. The slight movement had you whimpering and Reaching up to kiss him messily. “I love you,” you moaned, hiding your face in his neck as your body relaxed.
Remus smiled gently and kissed your head and face over and over, pushing your hair out of your eyes. “I’m sorry it was so intense, darling. It’s not always like that, I promise,” he whispered.
“N-no... I loved that. The connection, both emotional and... physical,” you reached up and stroked the tender bite at your throat, shuddering as it twinged. “I am yours,” you murmured, reaching to kiss him gently.
“And I am yours,” he responded, stroking your hair. “My beautiful, beautiful mate, I love you,”
Soon, his cock softened enough to slip out of you, and you groaned softly, already very achey from your coupling. Remus smiled apologetically and spelled away the remnants of your pleasure, tugging the covers up around you. Instinctively, you massaged your lower belly, although you knew it was unlikely that he had knocked you up so soon, especially as you were on wizarding contraceptives. You frowned slightly, a sad twinge rattling your innermost instincts. Remus laughed gently.
“Soon, sweetheart. Soon you will swell with my pups. Just not quite yet,” he said gently, knowing that your mating would have unlocked something deep rooted in your instincts, something rather maternal. You pouted a little but nodded, curling into his side. He was right. There would be plenty of time for breeding later. Before then, you and your mate had some catching up to do before the full moon...
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