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ss-skyearn · 1 year

Text

Senses

PAIRING : Hwang Hyunjin x afab!reader

WORD COUNT : 6.5k

GENRE : Angst, Smut, Fluff

WARNINGS/CONTENT : past Seungmin x reader, mentioned cheating (not Hyunjin or reader), brief episode of anxiety.

SMUT WARNINGS : grinding, brief handjob, attempted fingering, biting, spitting, sweat licking (*insert that one taste fancam where he's dripping buckets*), dirty talk, breast play, switch!Hyunjin, switch!reader, exhibitionism, mirror kink (?), slight non-toxic sexual possessiveness, creampie, overstimulation (m. receiving), unprotected intercourse (do not try at home), desperate sex.

A/N : A rewrite of one of my very first pieces so definitely not my best work, but I'm getting back into the groove of writing after a break from it, so have this while I work on a bigger project I'll hopefully be able to announce soon enough. Enjoy, lovelies. ♡

Upon hearing that, he'd turn you around, coming behind, pressing his chest to your back. He'd take your hands in his own large ones, and stretch them outwards.

"Look up, love. Close your eyes, look up and feel."

You'd scoff, "Really, Hyunjin? The titanic pose? Thought you were a creative arts major."

He'd bend down, just a tad, enough that the next words he breathed out were coherent enough to reverberate in your head long after he was done saying them, "They call me the hopeless romantic for a reason."

Rain. Melancholy.

These words have always been synonymous to you. One notwithstanding without the other. Always hand in hand.

The forbidden mutually dependent pair.

It's one of those times, when the sky gods decided to quench the earth's thirst for rainwater.

You find yourself sitting behind the steering wheel, hands white knuckled with the sheer force with which you hold it, your motor neurons running a mile a minute.

Thinking of him.

You stare out the windscreen, noting the raindrops that trickle down, swirling and making mindless patterns. The pitter patter sounds bounce off it, echoing in your empty Sedan, refracting through every solid surface present, wanting to get out, but failing.

Miserably so.

Their condition isn't much different from your own, you suppose.

Trying to break free, frantic in your motions, colliding through this barrier and that, only to effectively be trapped. In your own being.

It still induces anxiety of the unadulterated kind within you.

The thought of him.

Your olfactory senses work overtime, looking for even faint traces, the solace that it's still somewhere. Somewhere far away, but there nonetheless.

The scent of him.

Your fingertips brush against the leather wheel cover, that even after being smoothed down to perfection, remains rough to your touch. Nothing compares to what you once felt, what you felt only once.

The feel of him.

Your tongue twirls around and hits your palate, staying there and caressing, finding, feeling, remembering.

The taste of him.

As calming and grounding as the resounding of the raindrops is, your ears stand on alert, detectable sound range reduced to micro-hertz, trying to pick up even the faintest of melodies. But none of them compare to the one that remains your favourite.

The sound of him.

The trees sway about, leaves dangling in the strong wind. Some fall off, carried to places foreign, twirling about in the small tornadoes created by the gush of breeze. But it just doesn't compare to what your orbs once witnessed.

The sight of him.

Your eyes try to make sense of the criss cross motifs that are littered across your windows, focusing on the partially dried out trail left behind by the raindrops long forgotten, having fallen onto the ground, as if their existence was to serve that mere purpose.

But, within your heart, you can find no remorse. For it has been filled to the brim ever since you've refused to let it go.

The memory of him.

A loud thunder jolts you awake from the downward spiral you find yourself in more often than not.

Almost always when it rains.

Looking around, you realise that the roads that were jam packed, just now, you swear, are completely empty.

In your panicked and half dazed state, the memory still lingering, you pull the car straight to the fourth gear and step on the race.

The engine roars, wheels turn but the car doesn't move an inch.

While you're trying to make sense of just what the hell is happening, your line of sight lands straight onto the clutch.

A trail of smoke slowly seeps out from just underneath it, the smell of burnt metal suddenly hitting you.

Well, fuck.

You look around trying to gauge where it is that you are. To your pleasurable horror, you have no idea where in the world this place is.

You've been in this city for a good three months, but never have you stumbled upon this particular nook. Looking around, you note that after the traffic has been cleared, the place is unnervingly empty. Save for the few cars parked on the other side of the walkway, you don't spot a single soul.

Seems like you might have blacked out far longer than you estimated.

The sombre music playing through your phone comes to an abrupt halt. You glance down, only to find the useless piece of metal glowing and shutting off, the apple logo mocking you.

Well, fuck— two times over.

It is fairly late, but back in your hometown, that was the central hub of nightlife, nights were always bustling with people. More so than the daytime.

The only sign of life you can make out is the dingy convenience store in the distance, branded by a neon sign missing a few letters. With the remaining letters flickering, it makes for the perfect picture of a fucking haunted house.

But beggars can't be choosers. Ironic, really.

Climbing out, you close your car door shut.

Thud.

Probably with much more force than necessary.

You march up to the convenience store, peering into it through the dusty windows, trying to see if anyone else is inside, gauging the general vibe, as such. For all you know, it might actually be more dangerous inside than it is out here.

But fortunately, or unfortunately, you aren't sure, you spot a couple giggling and sharing a piece of croissant. It looks stale at best, dried crumbs barely holding onto the crust, making for a sad excuse of a pastry.

You know you're projecting. The poor pastry never did anything to you, to the memories crawling all over your brain, but you need an outlet.

Better an inanimate object than the couple who make you consider homicide.

Trying to contain your sudden murderous turmoil, you creek open the door and enter in. The inside of the store isn't nearly as crusty as the outside, something you're grateful for.

Not trusting yourself to glance at the couple, who you assume are busy with each other's mouths, if the smacking noises are something to go by, you make a beeline for the shelves.

Skimming through the various items sprawled on them, you aren't sure what you want. Hell, you aren't even sure if you want it.

You rummage about the store, staring at products but never really looking, your senses still on high alert and acutely aware of the rain that still rages outside with full force.

It was his favourite time of the year. Whenever it rained, he would pull you from under any shade you tried to shield yourself with, only to place you right under the downpour.

"Hyunjin!" you'd shout.

"Just let go, love. Live a little," he would say through a giggle.

"How is getting drenched living!?"

Upon hearing that, he'd turn you around, coming behind, pressing his chest to your back. He'd take your hands in his own large ones, and stretch them outwards.

"Look up, love. Close your eyes, look up and feel."

You'd scoff, "Really, Hyunjin? The titanic pose? Thought you were a creative arts major."

He'd bend down, just a tad, enough so that the next words that he breathed out were coherent enough to reverberate in your head long after he was done saying them,

"They call me the hopeless romantic for a reason."

Wetness suddenly makes itself known. You lift up the heel of your palm and roughly wipe off the tears that fall down your cheeks. But they keep coming, one after the other, trailing patterns on your skin, much like the raindrops did on your car window.

By the time you've calmed down, you look around to notice that the couple has left, their half eaten croissant laying on the counter.

Guess they had urgent matters at hand.

You're still trying to figure out your next game plan, about how you're going to get home, when your eyes land on the ramen section. The new flavour everyone's been raving about sits in the middle and as if on cue, your stomach rumbles. You realise you're suddenly very hungry.

The crying was worth something at least.

Taking one of the cups, you move toward the dining section of the store. Making quick work of cooking the noodles, you take a seat by the counter, physically seating yourself as far away from that darn half eaten croissant as you can.

In your hungry enthusiasm, you promptly choke on the spice level your dehydrated state was not ready for, and make a run for the milk section. Just as you're about to reach for your saviour, you collide with something— someone.

"Hey, are you okay?"

You look up and your anger at the couple, the hunger, the burn of your tongue, everything is forgotten. For the person who stands in front of you is no stranger.

It's him.

And he's touching you.

After making sure you're stabilised, he withdraws his hands from your arms and looks up, worry written all over his face.

You see as recognition dawns on him, as his eyes do a double take to make sure he isn't making this up, as his lips part to make way for a silent but evident gasp.

"It's you," he breathes out.

You put both your hands behind your back and clutch them together, mostly because you don't know what to do with them, and partly because it's you trying to appear nonchalant, even with the way your heart is thumping away.

"And it's you."

You know how silly you sound but that's just the charm of Hwang Hyunjin. He makes you silly.

He sweeps his hands through his hair, and as your eyes follow the motion, you take note of his hair for the first time.

"You changed your hair colour."

"Huh?" His hand falls off his hair.

It's your best attempt at a filler statement. Your way of saying that, no, I wasn't thinking— crying over you, over us.

"Yeah. I guess I did."

He moves back to the stove, and begins stirring his ramen a little awkwardly, failing to appear unbothered. His body language tells you he's uncomfortable, that he's very carefully planning out his next moves.

"Well, I was just having my break." He says. You're not sure why he's telling you this in lieu of a greeting, a formality, anything really, but all things considered, this might be his own attempt at a filler statement.

"Well then, enjoy."

Just as you're about to walk off, you hear a gentle voice,

"Leave after you eat. Please."

His voice sounds a lot like himself now. Clearer. More sure of itself.

Just like you remember.

And that shatters your heart further, for you can remember what that voice said to you in passing instances, in hushed whispers between all the chaos, in moments of vulnerability under the sheets.

You turn around and simply look at him, finally allowing yourself to really look.

In the two years that you haven't seen him, he's changed a lot, you note.

His hair is much longer, blonde and slightly wavy, face slimmer, cheeks hollowed out, jawline more defined. Lips pink and plumper than you remember ever appreciating, for a moment you let your mind wonder, think about if they would still feel the same against yours.

"I mean, your ramen.." he trails off and that's when you notice you had just been staring at him. That also makes you realise how apparent you have made that you don't want to exist in the same space as him.

"Um, I can eat it in my car. No worries."

"It's raining out. They'll get cold. Just eat here. I'll go to the back room or something."

A beat.

"If you want me to," he adds quickly, voice once again taking on the same note it had when his eyes first landed on you.

You want to hear that gentle tone once again.

"Eat with me," you blurt out.

He looks at you with a baffled look, and then, slowly but surely, you see a smile stretch its way on his pretty face and you feel fit to cry all over again.

"Alright, then. Go start. They're getting soggy."

You make your way over to where your cup lies, but hunger suddenly evades you. You stare blankly at the noodles drowning in the red soup and it just reminds you of your heart drowning in your sorrow.

Sorrow for the man who is making his way over to you, the man who is handing you—

Chocolate milk?

"You forgot to get it," he chuckles.

You're simultaneously flustered, and awed that he's still so attentive. Even after all that time.

He sits down next to you, and with the warmth radiating off him, you get a waft of his scent.

"Is that sandalwood?"

"In the, the.. ramen?"

You holler with laughter, "Why would there be sandalwood in ramen?"

"I don't know, you tell me!" he says, his shoulders rising up, face scrunched in exaggerated playfulness.

Ah, the dramatics. Glad they haven't changed.

"No, I meant your cologne. It's different now."

You say before you can stop yourself, only to immediately regret it.

The light atmosphere that was created, with struggle, if you were to pick apart a little, is gone as quickly as it came, and his eyes take on an austere look.

"Yeah. You liked it."

You tilt your head.

"You used to compliment me on how nice I always smelled and over time, I came to associate that scent with you."

I have an idea of where this is going and I don't like it.

"It reminded me of you. So I had to change it."

The way he says he had to change it, tightens the knot in your heart.

You clear your throat and stuff your face, to not say something you'll regret, again.

And choke, again.

You reach out for the milk, but he snatches it away, standing up and coming behind you,

"Don't drink when you're coughing, it'll worsen it. Look up for me."

You do, and he begins rubbing your back, counting out for you,

"One, two, three, in. Four, five, out. There. That's it. Breathe."

Even after he's done guiding you through it and you've caught your breath, he stays there, with his hand on your back.

"Um, thanks."

That seems to do the trick, as he quickly retracts his hand and slides back onto the bench beside you, a little further away than he was before.

You resist the urge to slide and make that distance the same again.

Maybe even less.

"So, convenience store, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Do you always work late night shifts?"

"Not really. I work whenever one of the part timers isn't able to make it."

The wording; 'one of the part timers', makes you think—

"Yeah, I own the place."

But what about—

"I'm mastering in creative arts, still. This is just a side thing."

Oh, that makes sense.

"I know," he continues.

"Wait, how do you know what I'm think—"

He laughs out loud, "Man, I love how you don't have a filter, even now. I still can read you from your face alone."

You huff, and go back to your ramen again.

It's the one constant in this entire situation that you can turn to.

Only to fucking burn my mouth.

This time when you wince and yelp, Hyunjin doesn't come to help you. No, that motherfucker laughs.

You slap his shoulder and just like that, the light hearted atmosphere has returned.

The elephant in the room remains unaddressed but as you continue to eat your food, the spice doesn't quite hit as much, and your heart doesn't quite hurt as much.

After you're done, you glance out the window. It's still pouring cats and dogs and you have no idea what to do.

You look over, only to find him already staring at you, giving you one of those looks.

You know what's coming. But that doesn't make you any less unwilling to answer when the bomb finally drops,

"So, how are things?"

"What things?"

Ignorance. Totally not a dick move.

But you'll do just about anything to delay the inevitable. To not address what you know he wants you to.

"With seungmin."

But he's not here to play, it seems.

"Non existent?" You shrug, not meeting his gaze.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the puzzled look on his face, "What do you mean? What happened?"

You scoff, "His ex happened, that's what."

He's even more confused now. Looking up at him, you wonder if he doesn't believe that his once-friend would do such a thing or if he's just naive enough to not understand what you're implying.

Something seems to click, and his relaxed stance is gone in a flash.

"So, you mean to say," he almost growls, voice sending shivers down your spine, "He did all that only to cheat on you?"

You're not sure what he means by all that but you don't have the time to ask.

His jaw ticks, eyes burning with intensity when he suddenly stands up and promptly starts pacing the aisle.

His hands come up to tug at his locks, those silky blonde locks you have yet to learn the feel of, if ever, and you can make faint phrases from his incoherent murmuring.

"—happening right now—"

"had the nerve—"

"—no way."

You watch him for a while, but soon his pacing gives your head cause to spin and you walk over to him.

You trudge up to his still pacing form, approaching him like you would a feral puppy, for he's certainly acting like one, and gingerly tap on his shoulder.

Seemingly not having noticed you advancing toward him, he startles, and turns to look at you.

And it's then that you notice. Eyes filled with the beginnings of what look an awful lot like tears, his water line is but a moment away from flooding.

"Hey, talk to me. What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry." He blurts out.

"What for?"

"At the exhibit—"

The exhibit? Surely, he's not—

"— when I said it didn't mean anything to me—"

Oh, hell no.

You step back, all attempts to calm him down forgotten, self preservation instincts kicking in.

"Stop."

Your voice is stern, laced with what seems to be venom, and you suppose it might as well be, for you value your self worth far more than the prospect of coming off standoffish.

"Please love, listen—"

Love.

That's what he'd call you. Only to fuck it all up soon after.

You don't want a replay of what happened, a rerun of the horror you were put through. Your heart can only take so much, after all.

"No hyunjin, I'm not doing this with you right now."

You stumble back. Quite literally stumble.

Your head is spinning, the gut wrenching feeling that you wished, prayed, hoped, begged to not return is back.

The memories of all those days return. In full force.

You had cried. Cried until your eyes dried out, until they didn't have anything to give. Until the washbasin tap ran out of water and was no longer able to conceal your sobs. Until your eyes burnt enough to droop. Until sleep tucked you in its icy tentacles. It won't leave you alone.

The thought of him.

All the delicacies in the world and you couldn't taste anything. All the calming fragrances, but you couldn't smell anything. All the beauty that was worth beholding, but you couldn't perceive anything. All the divine melodies, but you couldn't discern anything. All the warm bodies, but you could find comfort in none.

It wouldn't leave you alone.

The taste of him. The scent of him. The sight of him. The sound of him. The feel of him.

You had been deprived of it. And living without it all that time is a fate you wouldn't wish upon your worst enemy.

"Hey, love.. "

You don't really know what's going on around you. You can hear his voice, the gentle rumble, but don't really understand anything. It's all white noise, blending in with the buzzing that's growing louder every second.

You feel something warm on your jaw. It feels nice. You grasp at it, holding tightly,

"Stay. Stay," is all you say through hiccups. You don't know what this feeling is, but you don't want it to go. It's grounding, warm, a stark contrast to your shivering body.

As soon as you cling onto his hands with your ice cold ones, Hyunjin is on high alert, winding his arms around your shoulders, pulling you impossibly close.

"Breathe, love, breathe. I'm here. Shhh."

It's taking everything in him not to break at what he's witnessing. You're almost at the brink of a panic attack, trembling, shaking, sobbing. But he has to stay strong. For you.

"Hey, hey, listen. Look at me. Look at me, love."

The voice is still distant. You try to move your eyes, to make sense of the situation, to no avail. Your shivering isn't subsiding.

Then suddenly, you feel the same warmth that was on your jaw, on your lips. Something soft, tender, and sweet.

You're barely moving your lips but this time when your tongue twirls around and hits your palate, not only does it remember, it also feels.

The taste of him.

And suddenly you can feel your senses coming back to you. Your head isn't hurting, your ears aren't buzzing, your eyes aren't unsure, the fragrances aren't mingled together.

For the first time in months, everything is clear.

Taste. Sight. Scent. Feel. Sound.

It's all clear.

Because it's all him.

When he breaks the kiss, you notice his cheeks are stained.

You thumb away his tears, whispering,

"Don't cry."

"You're one to talk," he sniffles.

"You're not doing it again, are you?"

You've come down enough to let out a timid voice, bringing down all the walls you've built around yourself.

One last time. Just one last.

He buries his face in your neck, and you're sure you hear a choked sob, "Never again, love. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."

He turns the both of you over, seating himself on the bench, pulling you to his lap sideways.

"I never wanted to do it. But I had to."

You don't trust your voice enough to try to speak, so you can only urge him on with a silent look, hoping he'd catch on.

Of course, he does.

"Before our.. night together, Seungmin had told me he had feelings for you. He told me he knew I did too and asked me to stay away. Something about him liking you first," the annoyance written all over his face couldn't be more apparent, "I don't know why, but I accepted. I overestimated my restraint. I jumped in with you the first chance I got and trust me, love, I don't regret a moment of it. But when I saw Seungmin right after, I knew I had fucked up. I tried to talk to him, but he just wouldn't listen—"

"Is that why you guys fell apart back then?"

He gives you a pained smile, a draw of lips that's much more a dejection than an actual smile.

"He made me feel like I had wronged him. He made me feel so bad about everything. I truly believed I was in the wrong. That I was wrong to let myself indulge in you, wrong in enjoying it. And so I pushed you away. I thought- I thought he was better for you anyway—"

"And none of you thought about asking me? What I wanted?"

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, love. I was too busy berating myself to see anything else." He leans forward and the next words are muffled in your neck, "I promise I'll be better. I promise. I'll put you first, always. Please. Please, I'm sorry."

Your breath hitches and you do not have the strength, nor the will, if you're honest, to stop what your tongue spills next,

"If I give you one last chance, can we go back?"

"That's all I ask," he breathes, the later part of his sentence right in your mouth.

This time when he kisses you, you are an active participant. Now that you can taste him, you're going to savour him. Both of your tongues dance together, the small sounds of moisture almost as loud as the raging storm outside, all because having been deprived of his sound for so long, it's all your ears can hear.

Your hips have a will of their own as they roll against his crotch and to your delight, find him already on the way to being ready for you.

"Need you," you mumble against his lips, "once more," without stopping the languid rolls of your groin against his.

"You can have me whenever."

The promise has your confidence soaring, and in that exact moment of conviction, you hook your fingers in his track pants and boxers, pulling them down in one fell swoop. He's fully hard by now and even prettier than you remember.

You take him in your hand, not pumping, not stroking, just feeling him and his wetness that is trickling down the shaft by now.

You know he must be impatient, must be having a hard time controlling himself, but he lets you inspect him, lets you run your thumb along his member, swiping and gathering his precum.

When you look up at him, his eyes are glazed over, half hidden under drooped eyelids. Looking right into them, you bring your thumb to your mouth and suck it clean. He lets out a puff of air, but no sound accompanies.

You want to hear him. Now that you can, you want to relish in the sound of him.

You moan with your thumb still in your mouth and it has the desired effect in the form of a groan from those pretty lips.

You lean forward, "You taste so good, Hyun. Here," You stick your tongue out for him, thinking he'd suck on it.

How dumb; to think he'd do something so tame.

Nothing could've prepared you for the way he sticks his own tongue out, dragging it against yours in one fat lick, and pulls away, with a myriad of spit strings connecting your wet, hot appendages.

Enjoying the look of awed surprise on your face, he takes advantage of it, and flips your skirt up, pulling your underwear to one side.

Running his fingers along your slit, another groan makes itself known. He starts pushing two fingers in.

That's when you hold his wrist, stopping him from penetrating you any further.

His eyes shoot up at you and before he can panic about what he did wrong, you frantically murmur, "No time for this," and lift your hips, coming to sit on your knees.

"But are you—"

"More than ready. All okay," you don't feel the need to string together proper grammatically correct sentences. So long as the meaning is conveyed.

"W-wait what abo—"

"Birth control."

"How do you know—"

"You're not the only one who can read me like an open book," you smirk, grabbing his now throbbing length, holding it upright and begin the delicious sink.

You don't really have a distinct memory of what it felt like all those years ago, but even so, you don't recall it being this good.

As your hips meet his, with him completely sheathed in, he falls forward, his face dropping in the juncture between your neck and shoulder as he whines. Actually whines.

"Oh God, please.. "

Hips flush against his, you smile and rake your fingertips through those silky blonde locks you've been eyeing the whole while you've been here. You take it all in. The feel of him.

"You good, Hyun?"

"Just- just, missed this, love this.. "

"What's this?" You can't help but ask. You swear you're not teasing, just curious.

"Love your pussy," and when he lifts his head up, for the second time that night, you see the tears pricking his eyes, "love you. I love you."

Overcome with emotion, you lunge for him, mouths meeting in a frantic clash of teeth and tongue and it's all you can do to keep your sanity intact.

Slowly, you begin to move your hips in circles, feeling every inch he has to offer, and does he have a lot of them, pulliing groan after groan from him, until his voice is echoing in the stand alone empty convenience store, in this distant cranny of the city that remains still half unknown to you, probably reaching out and echoing in the empty rainy night streets, but in this moment, you can hardly bring yourself to care.

"Fuck, best pussy I've ever had," he grunts in between kisses and it's then that you realise, you aren't entirely ready for this form of him.

Back in the day, obscene statements and vulgar language were your speciality. But such filth spilling from those pretty lips is, you realise, fucking lethal.

As you continue your slow grind on him, he finds enough will to sit back up,and reattaches his mouth to you.

His hands play with the hem of your shirt, slipping underneath and slowly trailing upwards, until they reach your breasts, cupping and kneading.

He groans again even though you're the one being stimulated, "Wanted to do this ever since you walked in with that fucking wet top clinging onto you."

A harsh tug of your nipples has you moaning, and your slow rut turns to full fledged bounces.

He continues to fondle you, his face scrunched up. You know the bounces aren't doing much for him, but he's trying to let you have your fun.

A single drop of sweat trickles from his forehead, down across his cheek and his neck. You're not in control of your own actions as you lean forward and press your tongue flat against the small droplet at the base of his neck and lick up the trail it had left behind.

"Oh god, love, when did you turn so naughty?"

His voice is strained and you just know it's only a matter of time before he loses it and takes control.

You're counting on it.

You bring your hand to the front of his face and fork out your fingers, digging them into his hairline and pushing, effectively shoving all his hair back, forehead on display. You lean forward and drag your tongue against his sweaty skin again and that's all it takes for his self control to snap.

"That's it. Off."

You get off him. Standing up frantically, he goes behind you, and winding both his arms around your waist, lifts you up. Reaching the table, where your ramen bowls are now keeping the poor croissant company, he deposits you on your knees atop the table, your front to the large window, back to him.

He grabs your hips and lifts you up slightly so that you're no longer sitting on your heels, and pushes you forward with his large palm against the small of your back, pert ass jutting out slightly, giving him enough room to enter.

The position is something new, and entirely too creative, you'll give him that— with you bracing your weight on your palms, knees on either side of them, slightly crouched forward, ass hanging in air.

Seems promising.

Yet you fail to fathom to just what extent it's going to wreck you, for when he starts pushing back in, your jaw falls slack, a wanton moan tumbling out before you have the chance to stop it.

He pulls out. Barely an inch and thrusts forward with so much force, you worry about hitting your head on the goddamn window.

"Oh, fuck—"

That only seems to motivate him further as he repeats the motion again, practically pounding you with calculated ruts.

Each time he rams into you, it's with a perfectly measured intensity to have you surrendering yourself to the onslaught of pleasure.

It's then that you notice a faint reflection of your connected bodies on the rain tinted window. Transfixed, you stare at him through it, at yourself, watch how his brows are furrowed in concentration, eyes not leaving the area where he enters you.

It doesn't take long for him to follow your line of sight and when he sees just what exactly is driving you insane, he grins. Almost diabolically.

"Does seeing yourself in the reflection excite you, love? Or is it the idea that anyone could walk by and see you taking it from the back that has you creaming around me like this?"

Oh god, you don't think you can deal with this.

"What do you— ah— mean? I'm n-not—"

One deliberate harsh thrust and your cunt makes the most lewd squelching noise, in complete contradiction to any excuse you might have tried to make.

This was of course intentional, as a chuckle resounds in the empty store, "No? Your pussy begs to differ."

And with that he pulls out, lifting you by the waist once again, and walks around the table to land you right in front of the window, your back to him.

He pulls only your hips backwards, bending you to the perfect angle and in one swift motion, is back inside you again.

"Watch all you want," he smirks and goes right back to jackhammering into your hole.

You land your hands onto the panel and with it so close to your face, the glass turns foggy.

His hands once again find your tits, groping, and mushing them together. You notice him staring at them through the reflection, greedy eyes enjoying the view of the deep cleavage he's created.

Just to mess with him, you open your mouth and let a dollop of spit fall down right into the cleavage, trailing down the valley, which is now non-existent, with the way he's pushing them together, between your breasts.

He groans, "Fuck, love, you definitely got a lot dirtier in the time we were apart. Seungmin teach you this?"

You grimace, not sure why he had to bring it up now of all times, even if it was partially the truth, "Can you not talk about other guys when you're balls deep inside me?"

"Why not? Like you said, it's me who's balls deep in you. If anything, I love how we can just talk about him when it's me fucking you this good."

You've never seen this side of him before. There's a strange possessiveness to his tone, one that lets you know this isn't just dirty talk.

"I always wanna fuck you, always wanna be in your cunt. Will you let me, love?"

You're turned on beyond belief. He's managed to continue to spew filth and fuck you into tomorrow, keeping up a fast and hard tempo all at the same time.

"Will you, hm?" He prompts when you don't answer.

"Let me have you to myself. Please?"

The all too familiar bubbling in your lower belly is all you can focus on, but through the haze of it all, you manage to mumble an "always."

He falls forward at that, bringing his hand around you, jutting is index and middle finger apart in a V sign, and slots them on either side of your clit. It's then that the real pleasure begins. He moves both the fingers back and forth alternatively, one moving backward when the other moves forward, occasionally bringing them together to effectively pinch your clitoris.

He remembers. He remembers just how you like it.

It's not the movement in itself, but the realisation that he remembers that snaps the coil that has been building, and with no further warning, you are coming all around him.

You wail, body thrashing about with how hard your orgasm hits you, eyes seeing white spots all over your field of view.

He slows down his thrust to rhythmic grinds, fingers taking on a gentle rub of circles on your overworked clit, trying to prolong your pleasure as much as he can.

You have partially come down, walls still fluttering around him, when he speaks with urgency,

"W-where do you want me?"

"Inside," it's not even a matter to mull over. You'd be a fool to not be painted by his pigment, to not want his essence to create the most beautiful masterpiece. One that remains sheathed inside you, for the world to never witness. Only yours to feel, to possess.

He suddenly sinks his teeth into your neck, biting down hard. You yelp and reflexively clench around him and that's all it takes for him to lose himself, hot liquid gushing and filling you up to the brim, dripping out and down, and he's still going, giving more of him to you.

When he's finally milked himself for all he's worth, he slumps forward, still buried in you to the hilt. This makes your body, previously bent, straighten and your tits press against the cool window.

You gasp from the sudden chill, and he whispers,

"Sorry love. Here," and reaches both his hands out to slip in between the glass and your breasts, scooping them fully, his hand now pressed to the cold casement.

You laugh, "Don't pretend you're doing this for me. After what just happened, I'm fully aware of your tit fixation."

He laughs too but doesn't deny it.

As he stills and catches his breath, you push your hips back against his now softening cock.

You can't help it. It's completely involuntary.

He hisses in overstimulation, but makes no move to stop you.

"Does it hurt?" You enquire, not stopping your movements, for if he says no, you'll have to anyway. Savour it while it lasts, your greedy mind tells you.

But what he says is not what you were expecting.

"Nothing hurts when you do it, love."

He whimpers, but doesn't attempt to halt you, still.

"You could run me over with a truck and I'd thank you."

Rolling your eyes at this antics, you stifle out a laugh. "Count me in."

Turning you around, he looks at you in mock offence, hand held over his chest, "You wound me, love."

You laugh even harder at that.

Gosh, did you miss this dramatic ass.

An endeared smile makes its way onto his face. He pulls you into his embrace again. And as his sandalwood fragrance tingles your senses alight, you drown right into it. The scent of him.

You could get used to this new scent on him, his skin, make new memories, forgoing the ones that scarred your soul.

"But really, I'm grateful. Thank you, for coming back to me."

"Just don't break my heart again."

He pulls back, just an inch, sorrow taking over his features, "I swear I never meant—"

You silence him with a finger to his lips, which he kisses on reflex.

"I know. No more apologies. Just promise me. That you'll stay this time."

He kisses your finger again with a nod.

"That you'll love me back this time."

Another kiss.

"That you'll never assume that anyone or anything makes me happier than you. "

Another.

Removing your finger from those plush lips, you move further towards him, if that, at all, is even possible.

You cup his face in your hold, "That you'll always fuck me like you did today."

A smirk tugs at his lips, cheeky demeanour taking over.

But his face suddenly softens, "You were my first, all those years ago. And I intend for you to be my last."

That has your insides positively melting, but under his gaze, you know of no way to react, except to smack him on the chest, and yelp, "You're so fucking corny today!"

And the smirk makes a comeback, as he leans down, and whispers right in your ear,

"They call me the hopeless romantic for a reason."

[Send an ask if you wish to be added to the permanent taglist.♡]

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waywardrose · 9 months

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THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY 17

stranger things

eddie munson x reader

rated e

4.4k

spotify playlist

for @punk-in-docs

fem/witchy/goth!reader, magic, slow burn (for me), friends to lovers, no y/n only pet names, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, mutual masturbation, fantasizing, one-bed trope, making out, fingering, dirty talk, consensual pursuit and capture, oral sex, handjobs, condoms, piv sex, reader’s father is a dirtbag, mild spanking, magical violation, mental torture, body horror, aftercare, nightmares, strict parenting, panic attack, past child abuse and abandonment, semi-public sex, break-ups, angst with a happy ending, tags will be updated as needed

Eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird? Weird weird? He shrugged. He liked weird. In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.

note: We've hit S4! Yay?

The school’s basketball team had been gunning for a state championship, and no one would shut up about it. Banners exclaiming Go Hawkins! hung in the hallways. Go Tigers Go had been written on the main office’s windows in orange and green chalk markers.

During lunch, jocks whooped like howler monkeys. Their chirping sneakers and laughter pierced the hush of the library. Despite teachers issuing lukewarm warnings, a few even dared to dribble a basketball in the hallway.

On Wednesday, Eddie shared an exasperated look with you while O’Donnell assured two jocks the next test wouldn’t be until after spring break. The jocks high-fived each other.

At that point, you’d wanted them to lose just so they would pipe down.

However, they didn’t.

The radio DJ announced the Tigers had won against Christian Academy last night. You groaned as you turned the car onto the ramp leading to the school’s parking lot. Students swarmed from buses and cars. Teachers directed them to the gym.

That meant another pep rally — which no. Hell no. You’d been dragged to one last week during Western Lit — and that had been enough pep for the school year.

You claimed a parking spot at the side of the building. That afforded you options, whether that was smoking a couple of Djarums at Eddie’s picnic table or hiding in the bathroom. You checked your purse to find you’d forgotten the cigarettes, your lighter, and your watch.

“Fuck.”

Hiding in the bathroom, it was.

Grabbing your purse and backpack, you locked your car before heading inside. Fortunately, the halls on this side of the building were deserted — and your locker wasn’t far. The marching band’s bright music echoed through the building as you unloaded the backpack’s contents in your locker.

Male voices laughed from a nearby junction. You glanced their way, seeing first the Hellfire t-shirt, then Jeff’s familiar face. You turned to your locker with the hope its door would hide enough of you. With another peek around the door, your gaze snagged on Eddie. He hung back from the group, watching you. Swaying above him was a banner that said ALL THE WAY — TIGERS 86.

Yeah, all the way. You’d gone all the way, alright.

Your hands trembled as you grabbed what you’d need for your first two classes and closed the locker. Dammit, you shouldn’t be so shaken. It was only Eddie, who distracted you and made you laugh and nearly broke your heart. Your stomach swooped when you noticed the way the t-shirt clung to his torso. You’d held onto those shoulders, clawed at that back, and kissed down that chest. His jeans hugged his thighs, too. You’d been between those thighs—

You wanted him too much. You needed to retreat.

Fuckity fuck—

No, you couldn’t think about that: the act or his cock.

He said your name as you scurried in the opposite direction. Your long skirt flapped around your ankles. You almost hiked it to get away faster. His rapid footsteps gained on you by the second.

A short connector-hallway was on your left. You darted into it, heart in your throat. There was a ladies’ bathroom on the right. If you moved quick enough, you’d disappear, and he’d never be the wiser.

You rushed to the bathroom door, swung inside, and shoved the heavy door to the jamb.

You could lock it, just in case, but the noise. He’d hear the click and know you were inside. You backed from the door and around the tiled barrier.

You rested against the other side of the barrier, clutching your books to your chest and straining to hear his footsteps pass. Your pulse thudded high in your neck.

A moment ticked by with nothing. Maybe he hadn’t seen you turn into the hallway. No, that was impossible. He’d been close behind when you had. Maybe you’d been successful in evading him…

A tinge of disappointment surfaced at the thought.

The bathroom door creaked open.

You held your breath as your gaze shot to the dull floor.

“You know, I can see your reflection,” said Eddie.

You looked at the mirror above the nearest sink, seeing him in it. You sighed; your shoulders slumped. At the same time, a trickle of silvery, twisting warmth grew in your gut.

You hadn’t evaded him after all.

“Why aren’t you at the pep rally?” you asked, and headed for the row of sinks to balance your books on a sink ledge.

“Why aren’t you?”

The door clanked shut behind him, then its lock schnicked into place. You met the eyes of Eddie’s reflection. You recognized his dark-eyed, steady expression, had seen it after Halloween. He wanted you. He thought of sliding deep inside you. Your cunt gave a single throb as you remembered him bending you over and eating you out. He could do that here: direct you over the sink, flick your skirt over your hips, pull your underwear to mid-thigh, and bury his gorgeous face between your legs.

He approached you, somehow predatory yet cautious. It made you want to give in. You couldn’t give in, though. There was still a month until the Battle of the Bands. He’d said he wanted space until then. However, he’d already brushed aside that space at New Year’s. It’d been a weakness on your part to have given in.

You said, “You shouldn’t be in here.”

Because you were weak for him. You were crumbling. You’d missed him so much.

“Maybe not,” he said, while drawing closer. “But I am. So, what’re you going to do about it?”

“I should turn you in.” You pivoted to face him, hands braced on the sink edge. “Tell the principal.”

“He hates me.”

“I know. He’ll ruin this senior year, too.”

Eddie looked coy as he asked, “You wouldn’t do that to me, though, would you?”

You wet your bottom lip and glanced at his mouth.

“No.”

Instead of replying, he captured your lips in a greedy kiss. Though inappropriate, you welcomed it. Kissing was better than distance and certainly better than a stupid pep rally. He kissed your mouth open with a soft groan. His tongue, faintly tasting of toothpaste, met yours.

Then your hands were in his hair; his were on your hips. He sucked at your bottom lip, making you whimper and your knees go weak. Heat poured down your body to concentrate below your navel. It intensified when he pressed closer.

He smelled of leather and cigarettes and soap. You wanted to eat him alive.

You nibbled on his lip and soothed it with kisses. His face was a mask of pure hedonistic delight with his full lips parted and eyes closed. You could see that expression every day and never tire of it. He deserved to feel good — and you wanted to make him feel good.

He hitched one of your thighs over his hip. His touch went from muffled by your skirt to downright electric with skin on skin. You gasped, meeting his intense gaze, yet didn’t fight. He straddled your other thigh and ground against your belly. His callused hand slid to your ass, fingertips sneaking under the leg of your underwear.

Despite the thickness of denim, little was left to the imagination. His hot erection pulsed as you hooked your leg around him. You angled your pelvis onto his leg. Your pussy dragged against his firm thigh. The friction of your underwear on your clit was almost too much to bear.

Then he pulled you tight until the pressure ground your clit on your pubic bone.

You arched with a groan when he rocked.

“God, you have no idea how bad I wanna pull your panties to the side and fuck you.”

You dug your nails into the shoulders of his vest.

Breath caught in your throat, you said, “Don’t say things like that.”

However, it was tempting. Damn the consequences. You wanted him raw. You wanted to feel every silky, veined inch of him stretching you open.

“If we weren’t in school, would you let me?”

He trailed delicate kisses up your neck. You tilted your head.

He whispered in your ear, “Would you?”

You couldn’t answer. If you did, you wouldn’t stop imagining it: the salt of his sweat, the slap of his skin against yours, the feel of his strong hands digging into your flesh as he pounded inside you. You’d give in, tear open his jeans, and fuck yourself on his cock.

You grabbed his hair and maneuvered him for a hot, open-mouthed kiss. He moaned into it as he thrust his hips. His velvety tongue slipped over yours, encouraging you to move with him. You held his shoulder and his smooth jaw. It seemed impossible to put into words how much you’d missed him, so you said it with your body.

You held him close, pulled him in with your thigh, and kissed him harder.

He responded in kind, making you feel like you were the only person in the world for him. The antiseptic smell of the bathroom, and the reason you were locked in there with him, dissolved to nothing. It was only you and him, sharing breath and warmth and pleasure.

The bathroom door rattled. You both started and broke the kiss to look at the door, his cheek on yours.

Softly, he said, “It’s okay. It’s locked.”

“I know, but we have to get to class.”

“Or we could skip.” He leaned away to study your face. “Your parents home?”

They weren’t, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t come home for lunch.

“No, but…” You lowered your leg from around his hip, skirt going with it. “We can’t.”

He smirked with a shrug of his shoulder.

“Worth a shot.”

You grinned and shook your head.

“Incorrigible.”

“That’s my middle name.”

“Edward Incorrigible Munson, huh?”

“Yep.”

“I like it,” you said before moving in to kiss him a last time.

He hummed against your lips in approval. His arms wrapped around your back, holding you securely. He straightened and took you with him. You clutched at his shoulders as he slanted his head to deepen the kiss.

The bell rang, making you jolt. You didn’t know if that was for the beginning of first period or the five-minute break before.

“Crap, we’re going to be late.”

He hid his face under your jaw.

“Don’t care.”

“I can’t be late to Trig.” You prodded his shoulders. “Eddie, I mean it.”

He grumbled, placing a kiss on your neck. It melted your resolve a little. A few minutes either way wouldn’t matter. Everyone would be too excited by the pep rally to care.

He released you with a playful sigh. You turned to the mirror and attempted to make yourself presentable. Your lips were swollen, lip balm gone, and clothes askew. Over your shoulder, Eddie fluffed his hair and righted his jacket and vest. His lips were swollen as well, high color painted his cheeks.

“I got Hellfire tonight. Last session for the campaign,” he said, adjusting the crotch of his jeans. “But I could stop by your place after…”

“I don’t think I can sneak you in.”

Before the attack, you would’ve been able to with no problem. Now, not so much. Studying your magic books was on your to-do list for break — along with a few minor household improvements Mom wanted to tackle.

“Okay, well…” He worried at his bottom lip. “How about lunch or something tomorrow?”

“I’d like lunch or something tomorrow.”

A smile lit his face, making his make-out glow even more radiant.

“I’ll call you,” said Eddie as he bounced backwards to the door.

You gathered your books and followed him.

“Wait,” you said, remembering: “I’m running errands with my mom after breakfast, so how about I call you when I’m done?”

“Sounds good. You ever been to Mac’s Drive-in?”

With a shake of your head, you replied, “No.” You’d never heard of it and assumed it was outside of town.

“They have the best chili cheese fries.”

“Sounds good.”

He took hold of the door handle and flipped the lock.

“Be careful.” You inched behind him. “We don’t want anyone seeing us.”

He stepped aside and cracked the door, saying you should check.

You peeked in either direction. A few people hustled through the main hallways. The coast was clear, so you stepped out of the bathroom. You lingered across the hall by the drama club’s eye-searing bulletin board, which advertised Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat coming in April.

Eddie sauntered beside you to study the board.

“Would it be ironic to attend?” he asked with a nod.

“It would’ve been more ironic to be cast.”

“Well, there’s still time.”

You snorted and nudged him with an elbow. His eyes sparkled with something. He put a hand to his chest as he backed away.

Then he sang in a terrible French accent, “Those Canaan days! We used to know! Where have they gone?”

You moved closer, eyes wide, while trying to keep the smile from your face.

“This is how we get caught.”

He spun to the side, throwing out his arms.

“Where did they go?”

You laughed, “Eddie, shut up!”

“Eh bien, raise your berets!”

He shooed you towards the opposite end of the hallway. You walked backwards as you mouthed ‘tomorrow.’

He nodded and continued, “To those Canaan days!”

You reached the corner as he sang, “Do you remember those wonderful parties?”

From Eddie’s side of the building, someone called, “Oh la la!”

Your head hurt beyond a normal headache. Your temples and face throbbed. The muscles at the back of your skull wouldn’t loosen. Nothing from the medicine cabinet had dulled the pain, nor had turning off the lights and music.

You’d tried an ice pack on your nape and stuck your head in the freezer. When that had no effect, you wet a washcloth with warm water for your forehead. That hadn’t helped, either.

Something about the headache made you want to flee into the woods. Like an injured animal looking for shelter. You wanted to hide, but you knew whatever this was would pursue. There was no escape. You were locked in here with it.

You lay on the cool floor of your bedroom. Pressing your fingers over your eyes, you commanded the headache to go away.

Go away.

It didn’t. It persisted until it overtook everything. It buzzed in your ears like insects. You couldn’t feel the floor, couldn’t feel your limbs. It nipped at your mental heels, hounding you to some unforeseen destination.

You didn’t want to go. You didn’t want to die — because surely that was where it steered you.

With a snarl, you pushed back. You shook off the maggots and flies that wished to bury themselves in your flesh. You wouldn’t die like this. You weren’t fodder for whatever this headache was.

It fought you, clawing at your brain. Talons hooked in the seams of your skull. It wrenched your head to expose your vulnerable neck.

You turned onto your side, but that made everything worse. The meat of your body twisted while your bones remained still. You heaved and twitched as it forced you supine.

A scream not your own pierced the night.

Your mouth opened as caustic ruptures eclipsed the pain: one, two, three, four, five.

They bled and bled and bruised and drained. Bitter energy coursed through your veins. It burned like road flares, burned like death itself.

You choked as you went beyond the pain. Your eyes opened to darkness. It knit around you like a tenacious spider’s web. You scratched at it, nails snapping, until the darkness tore apart.

You hit the floor, head bouncing on the hardwood. Your lungs pumped as though you’d been running a marathon. As you caught your breath, you patted yourself down. Everything was normal. Your bones and nails remained intact and whole.

And the pain was gone.

You’d awoken this morning and reached for the telephone. You’d wanted to call Eddie last night, too, but then you’d remembered Hellfire. He probably wouldn’t have been home. If Wayne had picked up, you wouldn't have known how to explain to him why you sounded upset.

Something involving magic had happened last night, no doubt. Eddie knew magic was real, but that didn’t mean he’d told Wayne. Actually, you were sure Eddie had told no one.

You now sat diagonally from Mom at the kitchen table as you ate breakfast. Your father cycled between eating his buttered bagel, browsing the Saturday paper, and watching the Bloomberg channel on TV. On a garden-center flier, Mom circled shrubs and flowers she might want to plant around the property. You’d suggested rosemary by the deck stairs, miniature roses on either side of the garage door, and planters of lavender by the front door.

Mom wasn’t convinced on the planters by the front door, but you thought she’d change her mind if she saw ones she liked.

You took another bite of your bagel. The crust was all wrong, too smooth and not crackly enough. You missed New York bagels and the golden-toasty-yeasty scent of a decent bakery. The bakeries in Hawkins were okay, but they catered to… well, people who didn’t know good bagels.

Once you and Mom finished breakfast, you went to the garage to fold the tarps into the trunk of her car. She kissed your father goodbye. He looked content for once and wished you happy shopping.

Mom cracked the car windows and turned up Fleetwood Mac for the drive. The fresh air ruffled your hair and had you remembering sharing Djarums with Eddie. You wished you could smoke one now, but Mom wouldn’t approve of your dirty little habit. Though she might not have such a problem with Eddie. He was cute and charming and talented.

Perhaps you could introduce him to her before going to lunch. It could be quick. Just a ‘this is the guy who saved me when I sleepwalked’ kind of introduction. You’d run the idea by Eddie when you called today.

At the garden center, the atmosphere was weirdly tense. You picked out two hardy rose bushes and placed them on the platform cart. Mom was examining a baby rosemary. A few older ladies talked amongst themselves on the other side of the display table. Nevertheless, it was impossible not to overhear their conversation.

“—such a trashy place. It’s not surprising.”

“No, it isn’t! They should’ve bulldozed that trailer park years ago,” said another one before leaning in. “I can only imagine what led to this latest episode.”

You met Mom’s gaze as you attempted to keep a neutral expression. There was only one trailer park in Hawkins. Eddie must be freaking out if something happened in his neighborhood.

“Oh, probably some drug deal gone awry. Young people these days are always stoned,” the first one said with a flap of her hand.

To hide your agitation, you crouched to inspect the roses. There could be more than one drug dealer in Forest Hills, you assured yourself as you rubbed a glossy leaf between your fingers. This gossip might not be true and didn’t have to involve Eddie. He’d been at school last night playing D&D, anyway.

A third said, “I wonder who the victim is.”

“I think by Sunday night we’ll all know — and who the guilty party is.”

Victim? Guilty party? Had someone been attacked?

You straightened, stepped closer to Mom, and asked, “Did you see anything about this in the paper?”

“I didn’t bother with it today.”

You nodded and plucked a random rosemary from the array. It looked healthy enough.

“You okay?” Mom asked.

You nodded again. Jumping to conclusions wouldn’t solve anything or make you feel better. You’d call Eddie when you returned home. He’d tell you what he knew.

As you both headed up the aisle, Mom asked, “Do you think there’s been a shooting?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“That seems so unthinkable in a town like this.”

You hummed in agreement, though you didn’t share her opinion. Hawkins was fucked up. That fucked-up-ness was sure to manifest in mundane ways.

At home, you helped unload the car, shake the soil from the tarps and store them. Your father had disappeared into his office, yet had left the newspaper folded on the kitchen table. Mom said she’d peruse the front page to see if anything unusual had been reported. You went to call Eddie in the privacy of your room.

Without bothering to remove your jacket or shoes, you went straight to your phone and dialed his number. The line rang and rang until you gave up.

He should be expecting your call. He never missed your calls.

Of course, if something had happened near his place, he might be giving a statement to the police. That took a long time — especially if the police wanted to speak with most of Forest Hills. Besides, it was only half past noon.

You got comfortable and sat at your desk to take notes from a book on magic. Your eyes kept darting to the phone. Something wasn’t right. Eddie wouldn’t want to give a statement. Wayne probably would, just to get the cops to leave. At least, that was the impression you’d gotten from your brief interaction with him.

By the time five o’clock rolled around, you were ready to vibrate out of your chair. Your notes were disjointed and would have to be redone. You went downstairs for something else to do and turned on the living room TV. It was tuned to Channel 9. The top news story was the discovery of a dead Hawkins High student in Forest Hills, where a correspondent was reporting.

You recognized the white trailer behind the correspondent. It was the Munson’s. Policemen went in and out of the open main door. The broadcast cut to the studio, where the newscaster clarified the report had been recorded earlier in the day.

You couldn’t think of one person Eddie, or Wayne, would kill. Eddie could be a dickhead sometimes, but he wasn’t a murderer. He could’ve been defending himself. Maybe a deal had gone wrong. Or maybe he’d had nothing to do with it and someone had killed a person in front of him.

In that case, he would’ve been kidnapped and murdered in the woods somewhere. You couldn’t recall if his van had been parked by the trailer…

No, you would’ve felt his death. You weren’t that mundane to not feel something like that.

As commercials played, you wondered if you were strong enough to cast a tracking spell. That typically took a personal item from the person being tracked. You still had his ring on a necklace, of course, but you’d been wearing it since Christmas. It might not have a trace of his energy anymore.

Mom interrupted your train of thought by announcing dinner was almost ready. You turned off the TV and went to the powder-room to wash your hands. When you came out, your parents were talking about the dead student. Your father wasn’t concerned, because people die every day. Mom agreed to a point, but everyone was talking like this was a homicide.

“Know any rotten apples at school?” your father asked you when you sat at the kitchen table.

By your father’s definition, Eddie would be a rotten apple. There were plenty at Hawkins High, but Eddie wasn’t one of them.

“Not personally.”

He harrumphed before leveling Mom a look.

You remained quiet as spaghetti with a hearty meat sauce was served. It smelled of oregano and pepper, but you weren’t interested and took half of what you normally would. Your parents continued talking about the myriad of circumstances around the death: lovers’ quarrel, argument taken too far, overdose, drug deal gone wrong, ritual sacrifice.

“Ah, yes,” your father said in jest. “Satan in the suburbs.”

Mom tittered at such a ridiculous idea.

You grinned to disguise the thread of panic at the idea. Witches had been associated with Satan for centuries, but you’d never evoked him. You wouldn’t rely on any entity for your power. Because they all had agendas, and you didn’t want to be a pawn. However, no one — not even your parents — would appreciate your stance if they found out what you were.

You opened your mouth to say you thought the situation must be a misunderstanding, but stopped short. Your father would make you defend your idea, like this was a case in court. He’d appoint himself lawyer for the other side, jury, and judge.

Instead, you twirled spaghetti on your fork and let your parents talk.

After the sun set and you’d retreated to your room, pain sliced into your head. Your heavy stomach churned so abruptly, you wondered if you should make a dash from your desk to the bathroom. Covering your mouth with a hand, you breathed deep through your nose.

It was similar to last night. Death had you by the throat. You smelled the cloying, steaming rot of it. Your fingers went numb as if you’d been pummeling at something for hours. The desk light dimmed until you could no longer read the book before you.

Everything became heavy. You couldn’t lift your head. Your muscles weren’t strong enough to lift you from the chair. You ordered your body to move, yet it wouldn’t. Even the hand at your mouth wouldn’t obey.

Icy pressure squeezed at your chest. Instinct compelled you to drive it back. You wouldn’t be suffocated in your own bedroom by nothing.

For the first time, you prayed. You didn’t know to whom. All you asked for was strength. You needed strength to conquer this thing. Because if it was going to happen every night, it would kill you. And you couldn’t die yet. Your attacker was still out there. Eddie was missing. You were so close to graduation.

The book you’d been reading clattered across your desk. Its pages stirred, then rippled. You silently requested a solution. Light returned to the desk lamp. The book came to rest, a short spell on the right page: The Veil of Undeath

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #stranger things #em tagd #waywardrose writes

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clubdionysus · 2 days

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[BAD DECISION #33] Boundaries (Or Lack Thereof)

warnings: miscommunication, kim seokjin!!!!, things are getting messy for our starluvrs, kissing, half a handjob, chess, even more miscommunication!!, fingering, titty sucking, star talk, 69, oral (m&f), ass eating (f), squirting, slight overstimulation, unprotected sex, creampie

wc: 12k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

"Wait, wait, wait. Slow down," Hoseok mumbles through a mouthful of shreddies, the hand that isn't holding his cereal bowl waving around in the air. He swallows harshly, then clears his throat. Looks at you. Throws you an expression of disgust, almost as if you've just divulged your deepest darkest secret- although, in a way, you sort of have. "You went to a what with who ?!"

Rolling your eyes, you sink further into your state of despair, curled up in the confines of an armchair in the art cafe. Phone in your lap, you're ignoring the messages Seojoon sent through this morning to ask if you're free this week. Aren't sure you're in the right headspace to be dating.

On your break, today's shift is quiet. No one is in, and no one is booked in, either. It'll be quiet for the whole day. Just one of those rare occasions you cherish. Easy money.

That being said, Hoseok's insistence on being a nosey fucker is making it a hell of a lot more difficult.

It's not like you had planned on telling Hoseok about everything you'd done while away in Busan - but the photobooth pictures were still in your bag. You'd forgotten about them when you'd asked him to go and grab your charging cable for you. Had entirely slipped your mind that Jeongguk was kissing you like he was trying to win the MTV award for 'best kiss' in a fair few of them.

And you were also blissfully ignorant to the fact the branded love motel receipt was in your bag as well. Had just thrown that in there, too.

After all, it's your bag. You'd never intended on anyone seeing either of those. It's been a week since you returned home. Have barely thought about the contents of your bag since.

But as soon as Hoseok had shrieked, you knew his eyes had been violated - and your right to privacy had well and truly been ruptured.

"Since when have you two-"

"Please don't."

"- been fucking ?"

"Oh, god," you groan again, hand covering your eyes. Pulling the pillow out from behind your back, you press your face into it. Scream. Thankfully, it's muffled. Hoseok doesn't quite understand the pandemonium.

"Why are you so dramatic," he laughs, tugging on the corner of the pillow to steal it from you - but your grip is firm. You need the pillow, because you need somewhere to bury shame.

It's an odd thing, sex. It's the most human thing we can do. So natural and yet so weighted. It should be casual. It should be without consequence. It's human nature, after all. What we're 'supposed' to do.

And yet, you know the consequence of sex is huge . You know that sex isn't just about pleasure. You know there is more to it. Know that it's all primal, and that it goes back to being cavemen, or whatever, and building networks for survival - but you're pretty sure they fucked around without consequence, too. There are, like, nearly eight billion people to prove that assumption correct.

Okay, so maybe their offspring was the consequence of the inconsequential lays, but, like, you're on birth control. Should you have let him finish inside you? No, probably not. Is it the worst thing that could have happened? No, definitely not. Has it made you suddenly overly aware of exactly what you've been doing with Jeongguk for god-knows how long? Yeah. Just a little bit.

It's all you can think about.

Wake up; think about the weight of his body on top of yours.

Brush your teeth; think about him behind you in the bathroom mirror.

Go to work; think about that stupid canvas up in his living room.

Go home; think about what it'd be like if he showed up out of the blue with an incessant need to fuck you.

Shower; think about, well... showers. Just ones with him instead.

Go to bed; think about him, and his hair, and that stupid lip ring, and the way he giggles, and the way he gets all moany and - fuck .

You are corrupted . Like a computer malfunctioning, Jeongguk has ravaged your servers. You'd let him do it again, though. Without question.

And now you're thinking about it again. Squeeze your thighs together, 'cause you're remembering the way he kissed you in the elevator. Lips soft, tongue gentle. Oh God . He's your friend . Pull yourself together!

"It's not a big deal-"

"Remember that one time he lied to you?" Hoseok interrupts, perching his ass on one of the cafe tables just across from you, crossing his arms. You raise your head. Glare a little. He's dressed in white cargo pants and some obscure indie brand t-shirt, so perfectly him, but so awful for a job involving paint. You're in all black. Of course you are. "Remember how mad you were? Swear there was steam coming from your nose."

You're not sure where he's going with this, so you narrow your eyes. "No there wasn't. But what of it?"

Hoseok shrugs. Doesn't laugh, but he is smiling like an absolute fool. "I'll get moody with you, if you don't stop lying."

Your jaw drops. Voice rises in pitch. "I'm not lying!"

"Bullshit."

"Honest-"

"You wouldn't be reacting like this if it was no big deal!"

With a purse of your lips, you pause. Consider that maybe he has a point - but it doesn't matter. You don't want it to be a big deal.

So you'll fake it till you make it.

"Look, I'm just processing things! Like, okay, yeah we did fuck." Oh, what a glorious thing to admit. You fucked Jeon Jeongguk. He fucked you . Oh, what a mess. "But we're both very much in agreement that our friendship is too good to lose-"

"You don't fuck your friends," Hoseok interrupts, all very stoically. "At least, you've never fucked me, and no offence, but the idea of it makes my skin crawl."

"Yeah, but you're like my brother," you reply, not offended in the slightest. Would rather set yourself on fire than shag Hoseok. It's not that he's not attractive - he's got a smile that could end wars and a personality that you'd happily grow old with. You're just not attracted to one another like that. Simple as that.

Jeongguk... yeah. Something about him just really gets you going. Always has done. That first night is a little sketchy - but you never forgot the barman with the smile and little shots of purple magic. As handsome as he is kind, you sort of think every human attracted to men would feel this sort of way about Jeongguk.

"Well, what do you think?" You ask Hoseok. "About Jeongguk?"

"What about him?" Hoseok asks right back.

You adjust in your chair. Focus your attention fully on him. Your friendship flourished with discussions of your relationship issues, and his dating history isn't too dissimilar from yours. He doesn't label himself when it comes to his preferences. Just says he goes for 'vibes.' Shame, really, that the 'vibe' he goes tends to be that of 'toxic prick'.

"Well... I -" you struggle to form a coherent sentence. Pause. Think. Rephrase. "He's hot, right? Like, the kinda guy you'd expect to see on a billboard? Right, Hobes? He is hot?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?" Hoseok laughs, catching the pillow with ease as you toss it at him. "Yeah, he's hot. Probably in your top three lays."

You groan. Didn't need to be reminded. Also know that he thinks Seokjin is, like, the walking dictionary definition of 'gorgeous'. You wonder who he prefers, when it comes to looks. Decide that you're better off not knowing.

Even if Hoseok does think Seokjin is in that top three, he also knows how horribly he treated you and would never actually think nicely of him.

"Look," he sighs. "Jeongguk's a nice guy. I remember how things were this time last year. You and me... shit. We were both going through it. It was a really fuckin' sucky time."

You nod. Are thankful you had Hoseok while you were dealing with the demise of your relationship with Seokjin. He's just as thankful for you, in regard to his.

"Thing is, I don't know about you, but I can pinpoint the day it felt like we finally had you back. Took fuckin' ages. Was really hard to see you go through all that," he admits. There's a weight in your heart. Your era of self-destruction had been yours and yours alone. Not once did you consider that maybe it would be a heavy burden for those who loved you, too.

It was never a burden. Not in Hoseok's eyes, nor Danbi's. Just a cycle of life we all go through.

"I'm sorry," you say quietly, a little ashamed, aware of how many nights were wasted crying over a man who simply wasn't willing or able to love you. Not like he said he did.

Hoseok shakes his head. "Don't apologise. It was both of us. I know I wasn't easy, either."

"You were fine," you reassure him. "Totally fine. Honestly."

He rolls his eyes. Knows that he was partying way too hard.

"It doesn't matter. What I'm saying is that there was you before Jeongguk, and you after Jeongguk," he says kindly. Smiles; lips pursed together, eyes soft. "You after Jeongguk? Yeah. Feels like you before Seokjin."

With Hoseok's words comes a sucker punch; a blow to your heart that makes it feel like your stomach has been stolen. You've known for a while that progress has been made. Are fully aware of Jeongguk's impact on that - but thought it was a little secret just for you. Like a safety pin in an ill-fitting dress, or glitter sprinkled into your moisturiser. Thought that nobody could see just how important he was for your progress.

But Hoseok's known for a while now. Has known far longer than even he realises. Just started equating your happiness to Jeongguk. The shifts you worked following time spent with him were always full of far more laughter. The shifts you worked knowing you'd see him afterwards were always a lot more optimistic. When he actually thinks about it, there are few times you've been genuinely miserable at work in the last few months, and those occasions nearly always align with Jeongguk and a little girl drama that you moan to Hoseok about.

"Do I think Jeongguk is entirely responsible for that?" Hoseok continues when you go quiet. "No. You're the one who's done the hard work - and trust me. I know it's hard. I had sleepovers with the she-devil -" You laugh quietly at the newly coined nickname for his ex. "- way more times than I admitted to you and Danbi after the breakup. But Jeongguk... Yeah. I'm not sure if it's correlation or causation. I just know it's not a coincidence."

You shrug your shoulders a little. Aren't really sure if he's right or not. Just know that there's no denying Jeongguk played a vital role in dragging you out of your Seokjin-shaped pit of despair.

"I asked him," you begin quietly. It's a little embarrassing. You've not even told Danbi, yet. You know she'll go to bat for you whatever the weather, and worry about souring their friendship. But you need to tell someone . Someone needs to know you tried . "I asked him what was going on between us... and he made it pretty clear he views me as a friend. So, like, it doesn't really matter."

Friends, he had said, but then he kissed you like he meant it.

Fucked you a third time. Lazily. Slowly. Languidly. Confusingly. Intimately. Had laughed with you after your incredibly early climax, pressing a kiss to your cheek, his beating heart thumping against your chest.

Had looked down at you while you were lying between his legs, tongue trailing up his cock, pretty smile on his lips and reached for your hand. Held it. Whispered some bullshit about how lucky he is. Finished in your mouth, then kissed you afterwards to say thank you.

But when the caricature lady down on the boardwalk had asked if you were a couple later that evening, Jeongguk had quickly corrected her. " Friends ." The hearts that would have been drawn between you were instead replaced with stars. It was fitting. As it should be.

Stars, not hearts.

Friends, not lovers.

"I'm not really sure fucking in a motel is a friendly thing to do," Hoseok simply states - but is cut off by the ding of the art cafe door swinging open. It's a couple not much younger than yourself. Uni students, you imagine. Matching branded shirts and dark slacks.

Hoseok walks over to greet and set them up for their session. It's two girls, and the taller of the pair watches her partner with absolute fondness as she organises the canvas sizes they want, and the drinks they'll order. Her eyes shine like the reflection of the moon in Gwangalli harbour, and it makes your heart hurt a little.

It's been so long since you felt someone look at you like that. Nearly a year on since your last relationship ended, the prospect of falling in love isn't as scary as it once was. Not really.

A smile tickles at your lips. Isn't as scary as it once was. Your fingers toy with the dainty bird on the chain around your neck. Its purpose, it would appear, has been served.

And perhaps that's it; perhaps you're just ready, now.

If you are, then of course, it would be natural for you to confuse your feelings for Jeongguk. It had always been a non-option before. A 'what the fuck' not a 'what if'. Yet your heart is quietly calm when you think about what it could be like to pursue someone romantically. It thump, thump, thumps; adrenaline in your chest. Maybe you can do this.

This is what you've been working for. This is it.

Oh the realisation is freeing. Welcome. Wondrous.

And so as Hoseok rings up the bill for the girls by the counter before they start their date, you slip into the staff room. Take your phone off charge, and call through to the only person you ever ring these days.

It takes a few dial tones, but he picks up.

He always does.

"Hey," Jeongguk says through the phone, a little breathless. "Sorry, just with Joon. Playing tennis. You good, Byeol?"

"Yeah," you say quickly, with a sense of urgency in your tone. "Sorry, is now a bad ti-"

"No," he interrupts, as if he hasn't just got a bollocking from Namjoon for dipping mid-rally to take your call. "Not at all. What's up?"

"I won't keep you," you hurriedly reply. Really, you don't want to take up any more of his time - it's just that you want to be sure. Want confirmation that you're doing the right thing. "I've been asked on a date. Seojoon, again. What do you think?"

There's a second of silence. A skipped heartbeat. A missed signal.

"Uh, yeah? Sure? I mean, sounds great." There's uncertainty in his voice, but he masks it well. "That's what you want, right?"

"I don't know," you admit, as you lean against the wall, a little defeated. There's a vulnerability to your honesty. One that makes you nervous. Unsure of yourself. Start to ramble, because it's much easier than getting straight to the point. "It's just... you and me. We've done so much together recently, and like... it's always really nice. And fun. And like, I don't wanna ruin our friendship or anything like that. It's just things don't scare me in the same way they used to and I thought that maybe-"

"I gotta get back to the match, B," Jeongguk's voice crackles through the phone. Smiles, 'cause he thinks it will make him sound happy. It doesn't. "Joon's moaning. Sorry. Look, you do what you need to do. He seems nice. We'll talk later, alright?"

"But I-"

The line goes dead before you can express what you really want to get across. Your lips rest ajar; unspoken syllables fading into nothingness.

Jeongguk is gone, and with him goes any hope you had foolishly put into thinking maybe things could continue as they are.

But your agreement was contingent on your fears, not your hopes.

What a silly little fool you are.

And what a silly thing for Jeongguk to have done; phone in his hand, frown on his face.

Sitting on the rigid steel bench beside the court, Namjoon is nowhere to be seen. He's gone to the bathroom. Jeongguk never had to hang up.

He just didn't want to say things he couldn't take back. Didn't want to discourage you from doing the one thing that you've worked so fucking hard for: a normal relationship.

It's the least you deserve - and what kind of asshole would he be if he were to help you prepare for one only to sabotage you as soon as it seems as if one is on the horizon.

Running a hand through his hair, Jeongguk shakes it back down into position. The sun is glaring down despite the cold winds that whistle through the trees, and a little fleck of glitter catches in it. His skin is dappled in a dozen reminders of you, even if the hickies have faded, now.

In a park downtown, he's been with Namjoon all morning. Tennis isn't their sport of choice, usually, but it's with purpose.

"C'mon. One match," Namjoon had begged Jeongguk the night before. "I need to catch this guy outside of the office. Get him when his guard is down."

Working on a story about insider trading, Namjoon has been trying to talk with someone at one of the big firms up in the financial district. No one huge. Just a middleman. An investor. Sort of like the investment analyst he met at one of Taehyung's art shows. One of the ones that Seokjin had forwarded the invite along to.

The same one that Namjoon had schmoozed. The same one Namjoon had lied to, when he said 'oh, you play tennis? Whereabouts? I'm looking for a new club."

And so now Jeongguk is two matches in, regretting all of his life choices while Namjoon makes small talk with men wearing watches that cost more than Jeongguk's entire net worth.

So preoccupied with thoughts of you, teeth nibbling down on his bottom lip, Jeongguk almost doesn't realise Namjoon hurry back over to the court.

"Play it cool, play it cool," he whispers, his dark hair cropped short, white tennis polo pristine on his broad shoulders. He really does look the part. Jeongguk is a gym rat through and through, but he's tried today. Is in shorts. Isn't wearing a polo 'cause fuck that, but has coordinated a seamless all-Nike look. "The guy I'm after is here. He's booked in for the court beside us-"

"How do you-"

"The reservation system is easy as fuck to bypass, just needed a plugin," Namjoon dismisses Jeongguk's questioning, as if it's a totally normal thing to do. Perhaps in his field of work, Jeongguk considers, it is. "Anyway, not important. Park Sungkyu is his name. Analyst at Shilla Finances. Probably won't know shit, but will know people who do. I just need to touch base. Get connected."

Jeongguk rolls his eyes, but stands up nonetheless. Pats himself down, and tosses his phone back into his rucksack, which is slouched against the leg of the bench. "You owe me."

"I'll buy you all the meat you want," Namjoon grins, heading over to the other side of the net.

"We're going straight to a samgyeopsal place after this," Jeongguk assures him. Is almost positive his stomach rumbles as soon as he says it. "Fuckin' starving."

"You're always starving," Namjoon laughs - but he doesn't mind. They've already been at the club for far longer than anticipated. If anything, he feels a little bad. "Let's rally."

Bouncing a luminous yellow ball against the gritty surface, Namjoon gets a feel for the weight. Jeongguk leans forward a little, knees bent. Twists the racket he rented from the club shop between his palms. For someone who has no interest in the sport, he sure does look good playing it.

Both of them ignore the looming presence coming their way. Men. Two of them. Tall. Broad. Similar silhouettes, but entirely different auras. One is far more imposing. Makes Jeongguk wanna look in their direction - but he doesn't. Just focuses on Namjoon as he begins to swing through a smooth serve.

A little uncoordinated, what Namjoon may lack in grace, he makes up for in gritty determination. He's fun to play against, 'cause Jeongguk never knows what's coming next.

"Well, I never," a charming, brooding voice echoes from afar. "Kim Namjoon."

He concedes the point immediately. Lets the ball bounce off into the empty space behind him as he turns to face the approaching men.

"Park Sungkyu," Namjoon grins back, bowing ever so slightly to greet him. Jeongguk follows suit. "Fancy seeing you here."

Short sides, long top, Sungkyu's dark hair is held in place by a white sweatband. Like Namjoon, he's in crisp white tennis attire. Lips thin, nose a little crooked, Jeongguk wonders just how many rackets he's taken to the face. Definitely has the sleazy persona to warrant it.

Maybe Jeongguk's back is just up. Maybe he's just aware that Sungkyu is an acquaintance of your ex. A friend .

Any friend of your shithead ex is, as far as Jeongguk is concerned, also a shithead.

Which means the other guy most likely is, too.

He's tall. Rivals Namjoon. Shoulders broad, gaze icy, there's something about him that just irks Jeongguk. Perhaps it's the arrogant smirk, or perhaps it's the designer garments on his well-built frame. Perhaps it's jealousy - this guy looks like he's got his shit together, which is something Jeongguk could only dream of.

But he also seems older. It's unfair to compare.

Jeongguk might not care for the formalities, but he was raised well. Will greet his elders with respect.

After all, it's irrational for him to have such a bee in his bonnet.

Maybe it's you. Maybe he's just so frustrated with the situation at hand that he's letting it impact his other interactions - and so he shakes his head softly and realigns it with a warm smile. Will let the other men initiate a greeting.

Naturally, they do. It's the taller one. Holds out his hand for Jeongguk to shake.

Jeongguk follows suit. Nods politely. Thinks he might die, when the gentleman in front of him says, "Kim Seokjin. Nice to meet you. A friend of Namjoon's, I assume?"

Hand still in Seokjin's grasp, Jeongguk wants to strengthen it. Use it against him. Flip him onto his back and tackle him to the fucking ground. Wants to do shit that he knows would grant Seokjin a restraining order against him.

But instead, he smiles. "Correct. Jeon Jeongguk."

His name means fuck all to Seokjin. Sparks nothing inside of him.

But something that does catch his attention?

The glitter on Jeongguk's tattooed arm, glimmering in the low winter sun.

Seokjin smirks. Lips plump, jaw well-defined, Jeongguk understands why you didn't like kissing anyone after him. Fuck . How the fuck could he ever compete with lips like those?

"Assuming that's not yours?" he nods towards the pretty sparkles as he lets go of Jeongguk's hand.

Shaking his head, Jeongguk is coy. "Correct. Not mine."

Oh, but it is, babe.

"I feel for you," Seokjin laughs, entirely unaware of whom may have stained Jeongguk in the evidence of their affection. Seokjin's skin is pristine. Not a speck in sight. It comforts Jeongguk. "Really, I do. That shit's a bitch to get off, isn't it?"

"I used to date a guy," your voice had lingered. "And he was so cool, yanno? So smart, and mature, and he was just... you know people who have shit figured out? He's like that. He's older. Wiser. Anyways, glitter annoys him. Gets on his clothes and then apparently it's a bitch to get out but I'm so used to it that I never notice it-"

"It's not a bitch to get out."

"And like, he's just, mature, yanno?"

"Yeah, you said that."

"So," you had shrugged your shoulders into Jeongguk's mattress. "He doesn't like glitter."

"It's not a bitch to get off," Jeongguk simply smiles. Shrugs a little sheepishly. Is about to say something he really shouldn't, but knows better. "And anyways, I like the reminders."

Oh, how Jeongguk wants to be vulgar .

Wants to say shit about the way he always ends your sessions covered in it. Want to tell Seokjin how well he handles your body; how he knows you didn't cum the last time you were in bed with him, and how Jeongguk always makes you cum.

But the reason Jeongguk has glitter on his skin today is because he slept on your side of the bed last night. Missed you. Wished you were there.

And so he won't speak of you in such a way. Not that he ever would, regardless.

"Credit where it's due," Seokjin nods, raising his brows, deliberately a little cheeky because he's assessing what kind of character Jeongguk has. "Girls who wear glitter, man..."

He's not even finished the sentence and Jeongguk already wants to rip Seokjin's enviable eyebrows straight off his face.

"... they sure know how to have a good time."

Oh , Jeongguk thinks. It's far less vulgar than he was anticipating from Seokjin.

Until he adds, "used to screw a girl who was always covered in it. Annoying as fuck. Good fucking lay, though."

Jeongguk is trying his hardest not to pick a fight, but Seokjin's face looks just as appealing as the figurine display units that Jeongguk so often shatters, right now.

Calm the fuck down. She'll kill you if you hit him. Calm. Idiot.

'Used to screw', he scoffs internally. You fucking dated her for, like, a year, you prick. Longer than that, maybe. I don't even know. But you're a fucking prick. And you didn't make her cum. Prick.

"Thought this was a club for gentlemen?" Jeongguk teases playfully, not wanting it to seem as if he's being critical. Has an act to play, after all. Will behave himself, but only 'cause Namjoon needs him to. "Surely that's no way to talk about women?"

Seokjin shrugs. "Boys will be boys."

"I don't know about you, Seokjin, but I stopped being a boy many years ago," Jeongguk laughs as he edges closer to Namjoon.

He wants this conversation to be over as soon as it can be. Wants to fucking leave. Wants to sprint to your place and fucking worship your glitter-covered skin. Wants to rid you of how awful loving Seokjin must have been.

It's been a matter of minutes, and Jeongguk already feels horrible on your behalf - and you had to endure this?! Loved the man who spoke about you like this?

Oh, it makes Jeongguk feel all sorts of sick.

Also makes him feel petty. Vengeful.

She came to me. That night you fucked her, and left her all fucked up? I'm the one she came to. I'm the one she trusts.

"Actually, now I come to think about it," Seokjin muses. "You must have met her - I assume you were at the Gallery? The Ryu? For what's-his-face?"

"Kim Taehyung," Jeongguk reminds him. Think's Seokjin would do well to remember to put respect on his name.

"That's it! My ex curated it. Asked me to come, but I had a prior engagement so I sent along Sungkyu instead."

Interesting, how Seokjin calls you his ex, now. Calls you his ex when you're doing shit he likes. Things he could be proud of.

Calls you nothing but a girl he used to screw when he's talking about glitter.

"Yeah, I know her fairly well," Jeongguk shrugs, seemingly indifferent. Seokjin doesn't deserve to know anything that's going on with your life as far as Jeongguk is concerned, and that includes the fact that he knows you're a 'good lay'. Instead, Jeongguk smiles. "It's a shame you guys didn't work out. Not the kinda girl you'd wanna lose."

Seokjin glances down at Jeongguk's frame, then back up. Scopes him out. Assesses what he could mean by that. Decides the kid probably has a crush on you. Cute.

Also a little true, but what does it really matter? Let Seokjin think you're desired. Let him know what a colossal error he made in letting you go. Let him rue the day you decided you were deserving of more.

"What did you say you do again?" Seokjin asks. "For work?"

The change in topic is direct. Pointed. Asserts Seokjin's place in the hierarchy. Knows Jeongguk is younger, and knows he ain't working no corporate job with his ink-scrawled skin and metal in his face. Knows he's beneath him.

"Just finished school," Jeongguk says, not missing a beat. Doesn't lose his posture, despite the fact he wants to sink his back down a wall and scream at the world for how cruel it can be.

He doesn't admit that he serves drinks to keep a roof above his head - a roof that he can only afford because Jimin is generous with the rent split.

"And then?" Seokjin presses. Wants to know who this kid is. Wants to know why the fuck his arms look like they've been held by you, and if the ever-so-faint mark left on his neck is from the scuff of a tennis ball or the pressure of your lips.

"The world is my oyster," Jeongguk shrugs, with a grin.

See, Jeongguk might not have financial security, or property of his own, or a business card that would bring his parents any pride, but he has one thing Seokjin doesn't; the freedom of youth.

He's not tied down to anything. Has no real obligations. Can do whatever he wants. Could drop everything and travel the world. Could retrain. Could really make something of himself.

And yet if Jeongguk were to find himself half the world away, lost down La Rambla, he knows it's you he'd wanna find once he finally reached Park Guell. Should he retrain, he'd hope for you to be his study partner; someone to keep him focused and yet entirely distracted in the university library. If he became a star, it'd be you he'd glance over to at the side of the stage during the song that made him his fortune - one about stars, and how he's got one of his very own.

"Youth," Seokjin muses, then calls over to his friend. "Ain't that a beautiful thing, huh, Sungkyu?"

"Hmm?" He hums in response, as the separate conversations merge together.

Seokjin nods down towards Jeongguk. "Kid's just finished school."

With a laugh, Sungkyu shakes his head. "Those were the days. Make the most of it while it lasts."

"Trust me," Jeongguk smiles. "I will. Now that you mention it, actually -" he taps Namjoons shoulder. "- I gotta get going."

"Oh?" Sungkyu asks, not that it makes much difference at all. "Not want a quick doubles rally? Put that youth to good use?"

With a shake of his head, Jeongguk shrugs. "Got plans with my girl that I can't miss. Something about youth, and putting it to good use, if you catch my drift."

The insinuation is clear, but what isn't?

Who the fuck Jeongguk's 'girl' is.

Namjoon sure as hell has no fuckin' clue, but Seokjin's looking at Jeongguk with stern, questioning eyes. There's glitter all over his skin. Acknowledgement that Jeongguk thinks you hold a certain value.

It's only confirmed when he says, "Sorry boys. Next time, maybe. Can't bail on her though." Repeats his earlier declaration as he walks away. "Not the kinda girl you'd wanna lose."

He'll apologise to Namjoon later. Explain himself. Is sure he'll understand his desire to leave.

Grabbing his bag as he heads past the bench, Jeongguk reaches in for his phone before slinging it over his shoulder.

Opens up his call list, and clicks your name.

Waits for the call to connect, and as it does, he doesn't wait for a 'hello'.

"Did you say 'yes' ?" Jeongguk immediately asks down the line. Furrows his brows when there's hesitation to your reply.

It's not like you need clarification. There's only one thing he could be asking about.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I did. Both are a bit busy this week, so it's next Monday."

He's the one who hesitates, now. Wants to stop walking and gather his thoughts, but fears Seokjin will be watching on.

"Okay," he says, tone hard to distinguish. "Will you come over tonight?"

"Tonight?"

"Yeah," he nods, not that you can see him. The entire conversation feels painfully awkward, both of you tiptoeing around the fragments of your broken relationship.

"What for?"

"Haven't really hung out since Busan," he says. Smiles. Tries a little humour. "And very soon you're gonna be ditching me for another man-"

"Oh, shut up."

"-so I wanna get as much time with my bestie as I can before that happens."

"I'm not gonna ditch you, idiot."

"So you're gonna come over tonight?"

You pause. Jeongguk nervously bites his lips as he waits for a response.

"I've got pole with Danbi."

"Come round after."

"I'll be tired."

"I don't care."

"I'll need a shower."

"I've got a shower. And really nice towels. And Jimin's out tonight, so you can use as much of his expensive conditioner as you like."

"And you'll order us food?"

"What do you fancy?"

"Meat?"

"This is why we're friends," Jeongguk grins down the phone. "Grab a taxi to mine after pole. Let me know when you're on your way, and I'll order food, okay?"

An agreement is made. He sort of knows what time to expect you at his - and yet he waits until you text to say you're on your way. Only then does he jump in the shower. Is quick. Wants to be ready for your arrival. Always thinks he looks a little sexier fresh out of the shower.

Forgets all about that food he's supposed to be ordering. Will just figure it out when you get here. His head is all over the place, to be fair to him. Easy mistake.

As a knock sounds at his apartment door, Jeongguk swallows down the trepidation that's burning in his chest, towel wrapped around his hips, upper body on full display. Tiny droplets of water drip from his hair and run down his chest, but he doesn't care to properly dry himself off.

If anything, he's kinda hoping he'll end up beneath the shower once more before the night is over.

Unlocking the automatic bolts, Jeongguk looks entirely unashamed as he greets you.

"Hey, B."

Lips parting a little, you look at him as if he's crazy, before waltzing on past him. Shoes off, bag down beside them, you laugh. "What if it wasn't me at the door? And you were just there all naked and stuff?"

"Not naked," he insists. "Got a towel on - and like, I'm in my house. I can wear what I like."

And as watches you shake off the thick black padded coat you were wearing, he is all too aware that nakedness doesn't always equate to sexiness. You're fully clothed - but fuck . He can feel the blood draining from his face and heading straight for his cock instead.

"What?" You tease when you notice the look on his face. "I'm not naked."

You're quite far from it, actually.

Normally you're a lot more demure for pole. Sports bra, workout shorts that barely cover your ass to allow for maximum skin-to-pole friction. Shit like that.

This month, though, your pole instructor is on an empowerment hype. She's gearing everyone up for the singles holiday that comes every April. "Drowning your sorrows in jjajangmyeon and cheap alcohol is not enough. We don't need to be sexy for anyone - but we should be sexy for ourselves."

And so while you've got a pair of dark - and incredibly flattering - flared yoga pants on your bottom half, it's your top half that you know is really doing numbers on him. Your white tee is thin. Sheer, almost. Wide and oversized, the neckline lazily hangs off one of your shoulders, revealing the lace detailing of the lingerie you're wearing. It's black, and sparkles ever so slightly.

Or perhaps that's just you.

Glitter taints your skin like it always does, and Jeongguk finds himself in a subtle but certain trance.

Turning to toss your coat on the sofa, Jeongguk gets a glimpse of your ass. Yep . Still an ass guy. Hair up in a claw clip, he's reminded of how much he fucking likes your hair like this. Simplicity looks so good on a girl so complex.

You glance down at his body. Pretend like you don't feel the way that the slight tenting of his towel suggests how he feels.

You've a date next week.

Would be wrong to get on your knees for your friend.

Leaning your head back, you groan. Laugh. "I hate you."

It's a damn lie and you both know it.

"Hate you, too," Jeongguk laughs, just as frustrated as you are. Looks at you with such fondness it's a wonder he's able to fuck you in the way that he does.

"We shouldn't," you say. There's no need to elaborate. You both know what you mean. The hunger in his eyes and the way you wet your lips with the tip of your tongue says it all.

He nods. Agrees. "Absolutely not."

And yet you both remain fixed in position.

Jeongguk doesn't move, and nor do you, almost as if a magnetic pull is keeping your feet firmly in place.

You're a little subdued when you say, "I said yes to another date."

Again, he nods. He already knows. He told you to.

Gaze dark, Jeongguk's jaw is a little tense. He closes his eyes, soul hidden away from you. Tilts his head down, strands of damp hair falling in front of his face.

"So what does this mean for us?" You ask quietly.

Resuming his previous position, Jeongguk looks at you again. Walks your way. Stops only when he's a few inches in front of you. Curls his index finger and rests it beneath your chin. Tilts your face. Gets your eyes on his. Studies your face. Tips his head to the side and smiles.

Your glitter is pretty today, he thinks. Well, no, actually he thinks it's always pretty - but there's something about it today that he really loves.

"You're so sparkly, Byeol," he simply says. "So sparkly."

You roll your eyes. Smile in such a way that Jeongguk wants to kiss you immediately. Wants to feel the curve of your lips against his.

Instead, he licks his lips. Flicks against his piercing, then chews down on his plump bottom lip.

Eventually, he says, "I met him today."

"Hmmm?" you question, not really paying much attention. Too busy watching his lip ring do the thing.

"Seokjin."

Your eyes shoot up to Jeongguk's. He drops the soft support of his finger from your chin. Doesn't touch you, 'cause he wants space to be an option if you need it. There's a panic to the way your eyes dart across his face, almost as if you think he's joking, or something like that.

"Sorry?"

"Forgiven - hey!" He exclaims when you immediately flick his nipple.

You would apologise, but he thinks he deserves it.

"How did you-"

"Was at the tennis club. Joon has a mutual friend, or something like that," Jeongguk simplifies. There's no need to go into the intricacies of it all. Not now, at least.

"Did you..." you begin to question, but have no idea what you really want to ask.

Jeongguk auto-fills for you. "Talk? Yeah."

"How did that go?"

"Well," Jeongguk takes a deep inhale. Exhales. "I think I owe you an apology."

You narrow your eyes. Let your hands rest on his slim waist, keeping him close. You don't want space. You want security. Want Jeongguk around, 'cause the feeling that comes with thinking of Seokjin is always one of loss.

And so he edges forward. Leaves such little space between you that it may as well not exist at all. Drapes his arms over your shoulders. Forehead to yours. Nose against nose.

"What for?" you ask, as if this is normal. As if anyone in their right mind thinks that this is the kind of casual encounter you have with a friend. As if he isn't wearing just a towel, and as if his damp hair isn't melting into yours; tangling together to keep you connected.

His nose nudges against yours softly. A silent whisper of penance; comfort only found with you. More fool him for ever thinking he'd ever find it elsewhere.

"I get it now," he whispers. "Shit with Hayun. I get why you didn't give her the time of day, 'cause the second I realised who he was B... Shit. Thought I'd end up with a fuckin restraining order."

You pull back every so slightly. Get his eyes on yours. Tell him, "I'd be furious if you started a fight."

"I know. S'why I didn't."

The gap is closed once more. Your nose softly finds its home next to his. The grip you have on his waist tightens. He's drawn closer. And then your lips delicately press a 'thank you' against his.

"I'd be furious for your sake," you say, as if you didn't kiss him, not a single beat missed. Just like not a beat is missed when he kisses you , now. Gently. Just once. A punctuation mark between your sentences. "He's not worth it."

It's unclear who kisses who next; all that's certain is that it's happening. Neither of you wish to be accountable. You aren't making cognitive choices. Just following the will of your bodies. Aren't thinking all too hard.

But the kisses are hard. Firm. Words dying to be screamed that remain silent. Muffled breaths against each other's cheeks; hands on jawlines, fingers in hair. The intrusion of a tongue, and the welcome of one another. Dignity evades you both.

The friction of the way your bodies move in tandem has his towel loosening, and Jeongguk doesn't care to fix it. He's pressed against you, which stops it from slipping, and your hand is on his ass keeping him exactly where you want him. Ain't no way it's falling.

Not unless you want it to.

"Thought you said we shouldn't," he mumbles as his hands run all over your body, squeezing at your softest parts.

You hum a little noise of satisfaction into his mouth. Pant, as you say, "we aren't."

But then your hands come to the front of his towel. They loosen it fully. Make no attempt to stop it from falling as he manages to pull just a faction away from you. It pools around his feet, leaving him entirely exposed for you - and who are you to decline such an offer?

Hands wrapping around his thick length, you smile as he whines into your lips.

"We are."

"Yeah," you admit. "We are now. Want me to stop?"

He shakes his head, lips still on yours as you wank his shaft for him, slowly. Deeply. "Don't stop. Fuck. Feels so good."

Your grip is weak; dainty little strokes to match his pretty dulcet whines. The apartment is silent, save for the sound of you and Jeongguk, and the illicit encounter of which you're having in his living room.

Curtains wide open, the city could spy, if it cared to - but there's an anonymity that comes with a highrise, and an obscurity that comes with the way your bodies meld into one.

It shouldn't be like this.

Shouldn't be so easy when your heads make it so fucking difficult.

You wish you had restraint. Wish you had more willpower. Wish you were a better friend to a person who's been nothing but good to you - but it's how good Jeongguk is to you that makes you so inclined to thank him in such a way.

There's an aching in his chest that only eases when his brows furrow into kisses you give him; a pained desperation that he's so desperately trying to remedy.

But you've a date next Monday.

The potential for something to grow where there once was nothing but dry dirt. Jeongguk spent months cultivating the right conditions. Preening. Pruning. Making sure your soil was fed the correct nutrients. Watering you.

You're ready now.

And so he pulls away. Shakes his head. "Chess."

Your hands are off him immediately - but there's confusion all over your face. Didn't he say 'don't stop' ? Is this not what he wanted?

"I'm sorry," you blurt out, because this feels so foreign to you. So many times he's reminded you that 'chess is always an option' - but he's the one using it. He's the one who wants to stop. He's the one who doesn't want this. Want you.

Just like he didn't want you when you asked, 'what is this?' in Busan. Just like he didn't want you when you called earlier to ask him if you should say 'yes' to Seojoon.

Strike three. You're out.

"I'm sorry," you say again, a little slower as Jeongguk reaches down for the towel. Doesn't wrap it around his waist. Bundles it over his exposed area, instead. "I didn't mean to-"

"You didn't," he says quickly. Isn't 100% certain what you're about to say, but wants you to know this is a 'him' problem. "I just... B, you've got this date and like - okay, say it continues and goes well. How's he gonna react a few years down the line when he finds out we were still fucking about in the early days?"

I don't care, you think. Selfishly, cruelly, you don't care.

'Cause at the end of the day, you'll never care about Seojoon in the same way you care about Jeongguk. If you were ever made to choose, you wouldn't think twice.

It's shameful, how shameless you are.

Dropping your gaze, you nod. Understand. The way you've been thinking about Jeongguk is clearly not how he's been thinking about you.

It's not like you're in love with him or anything stupid like that - it's just that you think it wouldn't be a horrible fate to endure. In fact, it'd be quite nice to be loved by someone as gentle as Jeongguk. It'd be nice to love them, too.

"Right," you say - because he is right. "Sorry. I... Yeah. Shit. Sorry."

"I should get dressed-"

"Right, yeah. Yeah. Sorry," you say again, because you just can't seem to help yourself.

"Stop," he says. Offers you a smile. Really doesn't want you to fret about it. Just doesn't want you to make bad decisions because of him. "Don't say sorry. Just go get a shower alright? I'll grab you your towel."

All you can do is nod, and do as he says because you're fearful of doing the wrong thing. Scared he'll like you less than he does now; which you already think is less than you like him.

When Jeongguk goes to retrieve the towel, he finds it hard to breathe. His heart heaves and his breathing gets a little stagnated. Tears don't fall, but his lungs tremor as if it wouldn't be an unfathomable consequence.

The ache is back in his chest, and you're not there to remedy it. You're shutting the bathroom door. He hears it. Doesn't hear the lock, but he knows he has a towel to deliver.

Grabbing a pair of boxers, 'cause they're the closest thing to him, Jeongguk covers himself up a little. Just like his chest, his cock is aching. Just like his chest, it'll only feel better if he's with you - but that's simply not an option.

Looking across to his mirror, he slaps his cheek gently. "Get a grip, man."

By the time he makes it to the bathroom, you're already in it. Figure he'll knock, or just leave it by the door.

Small bubbles are scattered all over your body, your desire to rid yourself of skin touched by him overwhelming. The shame doesn't scrub away like you half think it will.

"B?" He calls through. "Can I come in?"

The shower shuts off.

"Yeah."

He's not sure what he's expecting as he presses down on the bathroom door handle. Sort of thinks you'll be shying away. Is right to assume such a thing. You're holding the hand towel over your body, not that it covers much.

Quietly, he's disappointed.

"Here," he smiles, lips pressed tightly together. Holds the bundled-up towel in the air.

"Legend," you smile back. "Thanks."

Job done, there's no need for Jeongguk to linger. He can leave, now. He should leave, now.

"Byeol-"

"Gguk-"

"Enjoy your shower," he says, coming to his senses and leaving immediately. Silently mouths curse words into his living room, 'cause what the fuck is wrong with him?! Why does he not know how to talk to you anymore? Oh it's all so fucked .

In the shower, you decide you have two options on how you deal with Jeongguk.

The first is the expected route; awkwardness, and a little uncertainty. Awful avoidance of communication due to fear of miscommunication.

The second is the opposite; to act right as rain, as if nothing is bothering you.

And given how much you hate the awkwardness, you decide that the second option is it. It has to be it. You spend the rest of your shower thinking it through. Hype yourself up. Rinse and repeat.

And surprisingly, it seems to work.

"Hey," you smile as you eventually enter his room, wrapped in the fluffy towel. Your smile is soft. Airy. Light. If you act like it's no big deal, then it doesn't have to be. "Got a shirt?"

He's just in sweats now. No boxers. Incredibly convenient. Outrageously sexy.

"Yeah," he nods. Sits up and leans over to the shirt discarded on his bedroom floor. It's been worn once. Not enough to be considered dirty, but enough to hold his scent. He tosses it over to you. Keeps his eyes on you as you shake the fabric out.

"Gonna watch me get dressed, you perv?" You tease.

Self-preservation 101. Joke about the things you desire the most.

And he knows he shouldn't, but he shrugs. "Do you want me to?"

And you know you shouldn't, but you say, "Yeah. I do."

"I-" he begins, but stops himself. Sits up a little. Leans forward. Edges further down the bed and reaches for the shirt you're holding. You don't object as he pulls it from your hands. "Don't. Don't put it on."

"No?"

He shakes his head.

"So what? You just wanna look at me?" You smirk, utterly confused by him - though his indecision would suggest that he's equally as confused.

His perplexion doesn't ease when you drop the towel. If anything, it gets even worse.

Cupping your tits, you hold them up a little. Can feel how hard your nipples are; subtle indicators of how badly you wish Jeongguk would just do something.

This time, he nods. "C'mere."

You tilt your head. "Oh? You want me now?"

"Shut up." He rolls his eyes. "Always want you."

"You didn't earlier."

"B," Jeongguk deadpans. Holds his hand out for you - and you take it. Let him pull you up onto the bed. Straddle his lap, like the good girl you so often are for him. He knows he shouldn't be doing this, but fuck it. Wants it - you - too badly to resist. Lets his hands stroke up your bare skin. "I was trying to be good."

You shrug, and Jeongguk marvels at the slight wobble of your chest. Doesn't even bother to hide his obsession. Just wraps his lips around one of your hard nipples and begins to suck.

"But this is good," you tell him, raking your finger through his delicately waved hair. Moan when he gets a little teethy. You like it so much. Can feel your pussy throb - and it's only exacerbated when his fingers slip between your folds. "So good."

He hums in agreement, quickly latching onto your other nipple as he pushes two fingers into you. It's so impossibly easy with you. He sucks your tit further into his mouth. Enjoys it so much more than he ever thought he would. Swears he could cum just by sucking on them for hours.

It's believed that when two stars orbit one another too closely, they begin to spiral. They spin and spin and spin, like a pair of ballerinas. Or Beyblades. Whichever takes your preference.

Jeongguk isn't so sure he's a star.

But he knows you are.

And his head is fucking spinning.

It goes around in circles. Chasing you; running from his feelings. Either, or. Both all at once, possibly.

Your hips rock into the rhythm of his fingers, the build of pleasure coming quickly. Even quicker, when his thumb begins to flick up against your clit.

"Oh, fuck," you whimper.

His spare hand massages at your chest, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You're stimulated in such a way that you know Jeongguk could make you a weepy, moany mess within minutes. It's a skill he's mastered.

He sucks on your nipple for a moment longer, dulcet moans vibrating around you. Pulling away, he presses a dainty kiss to your hardened bud, then toys with it using his tongue. Swipes once, twice. Needs you in his mouth again. Fucking loves tits.

There's a gravitational pull between you both. Spinning and spinning and spinning. Closer and closer and closer.

Hands bunching in his hair, you stop him all rather suddenly. Pull his head back. Look at him with eyes that are full of stars. Warn, "you're gonna make me cum."

"Good," he smirks.

"Bad," you laugh, and holy shit, Jeongguk thinks he might die.

When two orbiting stars finally collide there are two possible outcomes.

One: an even bigger, greater star forming from their merged bodies.

Or two: the weight of their gravity being too strong to sustain anything but nothingness. Better known as a black hole. A void. Something of which Jeongguk fears.

There's a third, less spoken of, possible outcome of two stars merging: the creation of a magnetic field over a trillion times stronger than that of the earth. Short gamma-ray bursts would occur. The most energetic and luminous event known to space and time since the big bang itself.

You've been spiralling with Jeongguk ever since you met him.

It's only natural that when you finally collide, the world will change. Life will be distorted forevermore.

Neutron star collision, or black hole.

Only one thing is for certain: it's inevitable, now.

It will happen.

Naive to any of this, you lean down, damp hair waving around his face. Cup his cheeks. Whisper with a smile against his lips. "So bad, baby."

"Fuck," he whimpers into your kiss. You're not even getting him off, and it feels like he's gonna cum in his fucking sweats. "Oh, fuck, baby."

When he's all pretty and pliant like he is now, you find yourself wanting to fulfil all of his wishes. Remember the little stroppy moans in his brother's bedroom. Decide now is as good a time as any. It really could be the last time you get Jeongguk like this.

And so you'll give him anything he asks for; and then you'll give him more. Give him everything . Let him indulge in what it really could feel like to merge with a star.

Pressing wet kisses up his throat, teeth grazing on his earlobe, you love the way he gets a little giggly. Ticklish. It's cute.

Almost as cute as the way he chokes on his own spit when you say, "let me sit on your face."

He does not need to be asked twice. Lowers himself down the bed to make his face more accessible for you. God, he wants to drown in you. Wants to be covered. Soaked. Wants your excitement dripping down the corners of his mouth and trailing onto his neck. Won't be satisfied until you're screaming. Or creaming. Either or. 'Both' is preferable.

And yet you surprise him. Smirk. Turn. Straddle his waist for a moment, facing towards the end of his bed. Palm his excruciatingly hard cock through his sweats. Giggle as it jerks a little, needing more of your touch.

"Hips up," you say, and he complies. Lets you push his sweats down to his mid-thighs, eyes trained on his cock as it springs free from its restraints. Oh, god, you love it. Never has cock ever looked nicer than his. There's nothing you don't love, especially when it's all engorged and needy like it is now; precum weeping from the pretty, perfect slit on his tip.

Holding him by the base, your other hand gently strokes his balls.

"Fuck," he exhales.

Smiling to yourself, you're pleased. Regret all the time wasted on you over the past few months. Wish you had spent just as long on him. Are aware he probably likes eating ass so much 'cause he likes getting his eaten - and it's all you wanna do, now. Want him whining and whimpering all because of your tongue and a little spit.

For now though, you put your spit to use elsewhere. Let it slowly drip onto the head of his cock. Spread it with your thumb. Wank it down his shaft. Watch the way his legs tense a little, and find great amusement in how his body reacts to you.

"Yeah?" you hum. "You like that?"

Jeongguk just whines. Taps your hip. Tries to encourage you back. "Just sit on my face."

"Ask nicely."

"Please."

You look over your shoulder and raise a brow. "Less attitude. Ask me like you'll never get the chance to ask me again."

Funny, really, how you both feel like it really will be the last time.

And so Jeongguk concedes. Softly rubs his thumb against the pad of your hip. Has fucking stars in his eyes again. "Sit on my face for me, B. C'mon. Let me make you feel good. You know I will. Think I might die if-"

He's cut off by your laughing. Smiles, too.

"See, you don't wanna hear this shit," he says fondly. "Now get on my face you little gremlin."

"Such a romantic."

"I'm not here to romance you," he reminds you both, no matter how much he'd like to. "I'm here to make you cum. So let me."

The grace in which you've been trying to carry yourself with is abandoned. You're laughing, the change in positioning a little awkward. Clambering, would likely be the best way to describe it, but Jeongguk doesn't give a fuck. As soon as your knees are by his ears, his arms are hooked under your thighs, pulling you down onto his mouth.

His tongue immediately laps against you, there's no way to articulate the sensation that runs over your entire body. The stunted, muffled groan of pleasure that vibrates against your cunt is enough to send anyone into orbit. The moans he elicits from your pretty face are unlike anything he's ever heard; as if he hasn't made you come undone more times than he can even remember.

Sinking down, you're pleased to find how well your bodies align. Granted, Jeongguk's got his hips a little raised. Is helping you out - but as soon as your wet tongue circles around his thick head, all sensibility evades him.

"Oh my God," he husks against your pussy, sucking on your clit then switching to rapid flicks of his tongue. Pauses only to say, "suck me off."

It'd be too easy to just give in.

So instead, you gather a little spit in your mouth, slowly stroking his shaft with your palm. He's so big that you can't fully wrap around him, and the visual just makes your pussy throb even more.

His nose is nested against your entrance, nudging ever so gently as his tongue swirls over your clit. He's unaware of the way you're marvelling at him - until he's greeted with a sensation he'd fucking die for.

Spitting on his cock, you coat him in a slick wetness that makes him so much easier to play with. Working your hand up and down his shaft, you're so fucking pleased when he stops eating you out - not because you don't want it. Not at all. Just because you know it means he's struggling to use his fucking brain. It feels too good.

But then he spits, too.

"Fuck."

His tongue delves back between your folds. Sinks into your entrance. Pulls out. Sloppily trails up to your ass. Presses against the tight muscle you know he's been dying to play with.

"Do it, baby," you whisper, kissing up his cock before taking it in your mouth.

You're not sure if it's the permission, or the fact you called him baby, but Jeongguk seems to lose all ability to hold back. He spits, again. Gets you nice and wet. Licks against you. Kisses. Pushes his tongue a little harder against your rim.

The soft dulcet nature of your moan is obscured by the way his hips begin to pulse upwards. Any sense of control you had in this situation is lost. Eradicated. Handed over to him on silver platter as he fucks his cock into your mouth and his tongue into your ass.

Thing is, Jeon Jeongguk is an overachiever. Will make you feel better than anyone ever could. Will fuck you so well that you'll never think of Kim fucking Seokjin ever again. Secure in his position between your cheeks, nuzzling against you like a starved man, Jeongguk moves his hands. One tenderly strokes up your back, while the other comes to rub against your clit.

There's no accuracy, and quite honestly he's a bit overwhelmed. His hips are on autopilot, the sound of him hitting the back of your throat enough to get that spinning head of his absolutely sent into orbit.

And yet it's still fucking perfect. You pull away from his cock, strings of spit keeping you connected, hand wrapped around his base as he continues to fuck into your grip.

"Gguk, I'm gonna cum."

He shakes his head. It feels fucking incredible.

"I am. I'm gonna - fuck. Gguk," you whimper, forehead resting by his hip, totally and utterly succumbing to him. "Don't stop. Please. That's it."

But he shakes his head again. Pulls his hand away from your clit as a small tremor pulses through it. Hands gripping your ass, he pushes you away from himself ever so slightly. Watches as your seeping hole pulses around nothing. It's not an orgasm. Not fully. But it could have been.

The sensation is catastrophic. You wanna curse him out. Tell him he's a prick.

But your eyes are all teary and your body is all weak and feeble, and all you want is Jeongguk to kiss you for hours upon hours. Your soft whimpers have him smiling, his thick cock in desperate need of release, too.

Pulling himself from beneath, Jeongguk comes to lay beside you; head at the end of his bed, feet by the pillows. Your eyes are closed, mascara smudged, glitter sparkling. He laughs when he notices your pathetic little pout. Strokes a little loose hair behind your ear. Smiles even wider when you crack an eye open.

"So fucking mean," you mewl. He nods, and you notice just how soaked his face is. Chin, nose, cheeks. He's covered in you. And you like it. A lot. Kiss him, because you can. Then pout, again. "So you didn't drown?"

Shaking his head, Jeongguk apologises. "I'll make it up to you."

"How so?"

He shrugs. Shuffles down a little. Latches his lips around your nipple all over again. Smears the evidence of your pleasure from his chin to your tits. Sucks harder.

"So good," you mumble, stroking his hair. He really does love this. Loves how much you love it. Loves how nice it always makes him feel. Loves the way you've drawn him out of his comfort zone, only to prove that comfort can be found anywhere with the right person.

And so he makes sure to say, "love your tits so fuckin' much."

Oh, how this satisfies you.

"Still love your ass, too, though," he makes sure to say. "Don't get it twisted. Ass guy."

As his fingers dip to your cunt, his rock-hard cock rests against your thigh, languidly humping up against you. He doesn't even mean to do it. Is just his body. He has no real control.

He sinks a finger into your cunt. Just one. Strokes up against your inner walls. Finds that little section that always makes you whine just a little louder. Rubs it tenderly.

"Right there," you tell him, and immediately regret it.

Yet this time, he doesn't stop.

In fact, his touching gets more intentional.

He sits up. Positions himself between your legs. Continue to fuck just his middle finger in your soaked pussy. And then his other hand is on your clit. Fast. Unrelenting. The complete opposite of what he's doing inside you.

"Fuck."

"Let go," he tells you. "It's okay. Let go. I've got you."

And yet you can't, because you don't trust him not to be an asshole again.

The hand rubbing your clit pulls away. Is replaced by his lips pressing a pretty kiss against it instead.

"C'mon, B," he whispers, lips grazing against your sensitive bud. "Cum for me."

His lips kiss your clit again. Deeper, now. Ends with a flick of his tongue; and then a short, sharp suck.

Before you know it, his fingers are spanking against it.

"Yeah?" he grits as you begin to writhe beneath him. He alternates. Gentle spanks and fast rubs. Sinks a second finger into you. The sound is lewd. Wet. Needy. "You like that, huh?"

The feeling builds from the tip of your toes and top of your head, meeting at a divine union right where his fingers are fucking themselves into you. Jeongguk watches your face briefly, just to make sure you're as pleased as you sound - and fuck it, he knows. Knows that no one else will ever get you like this.

No one else will ever get you like this, because no one else will compare to his magnetic pull. He'll be the one orbiting you. He'll be the one you collide with; the one you merge with. Doesn't give a fuck if you do make a black hole instead of a neutron star, because at least you'll have experienced euphoria together.

After all, what are soulmates if not two halves of the same star?

Your whines are stunted. Caught in your throat as you bite down on your own wrist out of fear of being too loud.

"I got you," Jeongguk grits. Needs this. Needs to know that New Years wasn't a one-off. Needs to know that he knows your body better than anyone. "C'mon gorgeous. Give me what I want."

And it's as if all sense of restraint evades you; chest heaving, hips wriggling, toes pointing. The sensation is too great. Too strong. He's got you. He's got you, he's got you, he's got you. Got you whimpering. Got you cumming. Got your pussy squirting for him.

"Oh, shit. That's it," he almost laughs, but cuts himself off as he replaces his hand with his lips, suctioning around your clit. Just for a moment. For a second. Gets his chin and cheek covered in you as he pulls away. Rubs at your clit again. Spreads the reach of the wetness seeping from you. Soaks his sheets. Dips his head, 'cause fuck , he wants to taste you.

"Gguk," you whimper, the sensation getting almost unbearable.

"More," he just says. "Give me more, baby. Please ."

The sensation is a complex fusion of torture and unadulterated pleasure. He works your pussy until you're spent - and then licks up your folds. Body trembling, you really can't take any more.

Reaching down for him, you encourage him back up. He complies. Lets you nuzzle into his chest as he presses kisses into your hair. You'll have to rewash it, but fuck it. Right now? Couldn't care less.

"You're insane," he praises softly. "So fuckin' perfect. Fuck. Fuck." He laughs. "Shit. Swear you're not actually real sometimes. Just a figment of my imagination."

You laugh now, too. "Life sure would be easier if that were the case."

He supposes you're right - and yet wouldn't have it any other way. "Shower?"

Sleepily, you nod against his chest - and so as he gets up, he simply hoists you over his shoulder. The scream you let out is far from sleepy - and also far from the scream that muffled into his pillows. Spanking your ass just cause he can, he leads you both into the bathroom and sets you down on the counter. Knocks the shower into 'start' mode, and goes to retrieve the towels. Is pleased to find you smiling when he returns.

"Yes?" He questions, but you just shrug.

"Nothing." You hold your hand out - not for his, but for his cock. It's still hard. He hasn't finished - but he does walk straight to your palm. Grunts a little as you squeeze around it.

Your intention had been to just give him a quick hand job. Know that it won't take much to get him there.

For some reason, though, your legs part. You line him up. Nod when he asks, "sure?"

And even though you're tender, and it hurts a little, there's nothing you want more than for Jeongguk to finish inside you.

It really doesn't take much. You're not counting - too busy kissing him through his orgasm - but you're pretty sure it's barely even two minutes. In fact, he might spend even longer just warming himself inside you afterwards.

Doesn't stop kissing you. Not while he's keeping you plugged with his sperm, not when he withdraws, not when he cups your pussy to make sure you don't fucking drip onto his bathroom floor as he leads you both to the shower.

Kisses you while your bodies get wet, and kisses you while you let the conditioner soak into your hair. Kisses you through the rinse, and kisses you even after the water is shut off.

Just kisses and kisses and kisses. Because he can. Because he wants to. Because if he doesn't, he might blurt out something stupid, like "don't go on that date," or even more stupid, like, "I think I'm in love with you."

There'll be no talk of this night in the following morning. No discussion of what the fuck is happening between you - 'cause you've already tried, and Jeongguk is paralysed by his fears more than ever.

Or at least you assume there won't be.

When you're woken to the sound of Jeongguk cursing, still snuggled into his warmth, you shoot up. Look around - then realise exactly what he's making a fuss about.

By his feet, pristine and perfectly folded is an origami bird.

One of his.

You reach over. Unfold it. Read it. Hide the pang of discomfort in your diaphragm as you read it aloud.

" Go speed dating. "

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

#bd #bad decisions

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jedifarmerr · 2 years

Text

50 Shades Of Marcus

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader(she/her pronouns but no name or physical descriptions)

Summary: The 50 Shades of Gray trailer leads to an interesting conversation which sets off an unexpected chain of events.

Word Count: over 10k (seriously this is mostly porn 70% at least)

Rating/Warnings: E for Explicit (18+ seriously). Smut, Dom!reader (Pretty soft dom), sub!Marcus, language, ambiguous age gap, lingerie (while SavagexFenty wasn't around I take most my inspiration from there since it is inclusive), yearning. Again don't wanna give too much away But this is decently tame for a Dom/sub and if you have any questions or want a full list, you can either message me or check this on AO3.

I'm still new to writing this dynamic so please let me know if I got anything wrong.

A/N: Thank you everyone for the support on the first part, seriously never expected it!

Read Part 1 - here

Part 2: A Darker Shade

Marcus stood outside her door, a Redbox movie tucked under his arm and a to-go bag of Thai in hand. Glancing at the golden knob, a rush of butterflies hit him.

Would it feel different?

Was everything going to change?

Safe to say it was new territory for him. Always more of a relationship guy, the closest thing Marcus had to a friend with benefits – or whatever this was called – was in middle school when his neighbor Allie suggested they be the other’s first kiss.

It was like comparing apples to oranges. Or in this case a peck to a mind-blowing…handjob.

Obviously he’d talked to her in the past few days. A few texts here and there, mostly planning for tonight.

But, seeing her? That was a different story. Aside from Saturday – for the half-hour breakfast/run down – he’d seen her once, the other morning on the landing but the smile and wave as a proclaimed art connoisseur barked in his ear which barely counted.

Marcus wasn’t worried, per se, to see her, more anxious for the unknown. A tad nervous about how the new dynamic might bleed into what was already so great.

Well, there was no time like the present to find out.

Marcus took a deep breath then opened the door. At the sound of it, she jumped up from the couch.

“There you are.” She smiled, wide and warm. His mouth opened but nothing came out, his brilliant mind was suddenly replaced by a blank piece of scratch paper. The little voice in his head called through the void, screaming to say something – a simple hi or maybe a how’s it going would do.

But no.

In a dash of panic, the room filling with the pad of her feet as she drew nearer, he slapped a dorky smile on his face and lifted the to-go bag like a proud fisherman showing off his prized catch. The forgotten DVD slid from his armpit, crashing at his feet and all he wanted was to reverse just twenty seconds, a real life Click moment.

Marcus shook his head at himself and slung the sack on the table, before bending down to snatch up the case. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

She dismissed the ordeal with a wave of her hand and a shrug. “No need to apologize, happens to the best of us,” she said nonchalantly and plucked the DVD from his hand. “Let’s see what ya got – the Equalizer, huh? Ya know, I’ve heard good things.”

He let out a small breath of relief after spending ten minutes swiping through the movie selection; if not for the woman and her children waiting patiently, he probably would’ve been there all night.

“Ya know, Eric actually recommended it so I wasn’t too sure, but just thought ya know - why not?” Marcus tugged at the knot on the bag a few times until it finally loosened. She glided past him into the kitchen while he pulled out two entrees and an order of her favorite, spring rolls to share.

“Maybe Eric will be right this time.” He chuckled at her teasing of the co-worker he’d told her so much about. “Want anything to drink?”

She stopped at the fridge, twirling to face him and he swore – for just a moment – her eyes flickered across his shoulders and slim waist, hugged by his tight t-shirt. If so she didn’t have any shame about it, settling back on his face with a waiting tilt of her head.

“Water,” he croaked out, promptly clearing his throat while sinking down in the chair. “Please,” he politely added.

The fridge groaned to life, ice crashing in the glass cup. “Thanks again, by the way,” she said as the water hissed against the cubes. “For picking this up for us. Got a receipt? I think mine’s usually 12 dollars?”

He dismissed her offer like it was a gnat, but knew she had the persistency and stubbornness of a fly. She went to debate, but he beat her to it. “I insist.” Her lips pursed, studying him and he cocked his brow in defense. “Besides, I owe you for the pizza - and don’t forget Rocco’s.”

“Please, that was nothing.” She shook her head, handing him the glass.

“Yeah? Well, neither was this.” His voice and cocky grin left no room for argument.

She huffed, sliding into the chair opposite of him. “Well I got dibs on next time.”

“Hmmmm, I think I can live with that.” He smirked, plucking up a spring roll and taking a bite – a few pieces of cilantro falling from his lips to the container.

She popped open the lid, “Oooof, now this looks amazing.” She stabbed the noodles, twirling them around her fork then blowing off the steam before taking a cautious bite.

“Sorry it took so long. My meeting ran late and I wanted to chan-” His explanation trailed into silence as her finger shot up, swallowing.

“I swear, I’m gonna kick you out if you apologize again.” Her laugh was light, an empty threat.

“Sor - ah, won’t happen again,” he said, raising a hand in surrender. She nodded, giving her best serious face. The sound of chewing surrounded the table for just a few moments, Marcus sipped on his water. “Alright,” he set the glass down. “I gotta ask. How was that yoga class?” An annoyed, almost pissed off look flashed across her face. “That bad?” He asked.

She patted the sides of her mouth with a napkin. “Worse.”

Little did Marcus know he’d opened up a can of worms.

The yoga class she’d gone to with some co-workers for team bonding (not her idea) after breakfast on Saturday ended up being a fast-paced, hot yoga class instead of something calm and tranquil like advertised. By the end of the hour her mat was surrounded by a puddle and the coffee and croissant from earlier were dangerously close to making a reappearance. The only brightside seemed to be the prospect of a new friend.

Once she was done ranting, she spent the rest of the dinner focused on him. Asking him about his caseload, listening intently to his stories and almost falling out of her chair laughing at Eric’s countless shenanigans.

Both full and satisfied, Marcus popped in the movie and plopped on his end of the couch with her following soon after. Watching it with continuous commentary as if nothing had happened.

“So,” she said, turning to him as the ending scene panned out, “Come on. Whaddya think?”

“It was -” he shrugged, “Pretty good, yeah – entertaining, interesting enough.”

“Oh, here we go,” she teased with a playful roll of her eyes. “What was it this time? No wait, let me guess. Was it the fact that it wasn’t made before you were born? No - no, because it wasn’t on the classics list on google? Wait - I got it, it wasn’t black and white?”

He clicked his tongue, “I show you one black and white movie –”

“Nononono – don’t even. Don’t down play it, we both know it’s more than that.” He smashed his lips together and twirled his head from side to side. “Alright, there was – It’s A Wonderful Life -”

“Oh come on. That’s a holiday classic.”

“Pfft. Doesn’t change the fact it’s black and white.” She snorted and a smile broke through his lips. He motioned his hand in a circle for her to continue. “Then there was…Citizen Kane and oh - Casablanca.”

“Now, you liked Casablanca,” he said and she wagged her head back and forth.

“You’re completely missing the point. Look. Just admit it, old movies you give a pass to, but new movies – suddenly you turn into the biggest critic.”

Marcus crossed his arms against his chest. “What can I say? They don’t make ‘em like they used to.” Her laugh was soft, warm on her lips.

Shaking her head, she bounced to her feet and twisted from side to side to pop her back. “You’re impossible,” she said, then sauntered over to the TV.

Marcus cruised over her simple long-sleeve and black leggings. A nothing special outfit, yet it never failed to stop him short.

Honestly, he didn’t know what she looked better in. Marcus found her stunning in everything.

He loved seeing her so casual, bare face and cozy, but damn if he didn’t lose his breath anytime he saw her in those satin blouses tucked into power pants. Then that leather outfit, don’t even get him started – that actually ruined him; all week he wondered what else she had hidden away.

Always one to be respectful, he hated those guys who gawked and ogled women like fresh meat. But he found himself in a moment of weakness, unable to tear himself away as she bent over to hit the eject button. Those black leggings latching onto her thighs and the swell of her ass – not for the first time, he found himself jealous of an inanimate object.

Too distracted with the lower half, he missed that she was peering over her shoulder. “Like what you see?” She teased with a questioning brow.

His guilt-wide eyes shot to her and she giggled at the pink of his cheeks. Marcus scrubbed a hand down his face, “Fuck,” he mumbled, dissapointed in his lapse and feeling a tad creepy. How long had she been watching him, watch her?

“It’s alright.” Her words fell delicate, an innocent sounding whisper wrapped in a sultry coat.

She slinked back to him, and his gaze held to hers. He couldn’t believe this was happening, moments ago it was like nothing had changed but now, she was fitting herself between his thighs; his heart booming in his chest like a speaker blaring at a concert, loud enough he swore she could hear.

“I like when you look.” It dripped from her lips like water through a colander. As if she had no clue that such a simple sentence made his mind spin like a windmill in a tornado. He gulped, surprised and innocent.

Her hand reached into the space between, “Come on,” she said, tilting her head to the front door. Helped to his feet, a step behind as he followed her, the sentence wisping through his mind like a hypnotic spell.

Opening the door, she cradled the side of it as he stepped out into the landing. Inhaling the thin and untainted air in hopes to clear the fog threatening to take over his frontal lobe.

She handed him the DVD, “Make sure you return that.”

He slapped the case against his palm with a firm nod. “Will do,” he teetered back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Well, I had fun.”

“Yeah? Me too.” She smiled and damn it made him never want to leave. “Marcus, I know it’s been a few days but I um - just wanted to check and see if you’re still feeling alright about everything? I would’ve asked earlier, but since it was our first time hanging out I kinda wanted to keep it separate, if that makes sense.”

Marcus couldn’t help but wonder if she’d dealt with a situation like this in the past, but judging by the sound of her voice it seemed like this was relatively new territory and he wasn’t alone in feeling a tad anxious about tonight. However she did a much better job of hiding it or handling it.

“I get it.” Honestly, he did and appreciated her want and effort to maintain the friendship. “And to answer your question - yes. Uh - I still feel good, uh - really good.” His voice was sincere – earnest to a fault.

“Good,” she gave a single nod, then peered up through her lashes. “Then, are you still interested in –”

“Yes,” he blurted, his jaw clamping together immediately as her eyebrows shot to her hairline. “Sorry,” his head dipped to the side. Lucky for him, she appeared to enjoy his eagerness, as the shock faded and her lips upturned on the sides.

“ ‘s okay,” she assured and to his surprise, inched closer. Brushing up against him, every hair on his body stood at attention as his breathing picked up into a steady pant in his ear. The effect she had on him was dizzying, nothing like he’d ever experienced with Teresa or – hell even Angela. “Do you have any plans on Friday?”

His head shook back and forth with a squeaked out ‘no.’ In the moment he couldn’t care less about playing it cool or acting like he needed a second to think, just to make it seem he had a semblance of a personal life.

“Alright, well.” Her finger brushed against his tummy, up his cotton-covered chest. “Would you wanna come over?” At her bare whisper, Marcus turned to putty in her hands – malleable.

“Mh-hmm.” His head moved like a flicked bobblehead.

“Good,” she said in a husky voice, eyes flickering to his lips while licking her own. “It’s getting late, I think it’s time we call it a night.” He whimpered as her finger trailed to his neck, across his bobbing Adam's apple. Making his body scream for more – of what, he wasn’t sure but knew he would’ve taken anything and everything she would’ve given, even the smallest crumb.

When she stepped away and into her apartment, he choked down a whiny gasp of air. “Sweet dreams, Marcus. Oh – and you should probably take care of that.”

His eyes dropped to the tent in his sweats. “Oh - shit - damn it.”

She shot him a self-satisfied grin and winked. “I’ll text you,” and with that, she closed the door.

Marcus stared at the dark wood for a solid minute, then muttered out a curse, palming his cock as he fumbled with his keys.

He was in deep deep trouble.

---

Jovial laughter and easy conversations broke through the glass pane walls of the usually stoic and serious conference room. They were celebrating a major bust in a decades-long case. Marcus was basking in the high spirits of his fellow agents. Everyone had really let their hair down, hanging their blazers over the rolly chairs and bunching up their sleeves.

Leaning against the wooden table, Marcus smiled at the agents coming over to check the empty pizza boxes and refill their cups from an array of two-liters. Turning back to politely nod along, using every bit of cognitive strength to focus on Shannon’s prattling.

Twirling a strand of auburn hair around her finger, Marcus peaked over at the clock above the door – once again. The hand ticking closer and closer to the time she told him to be over. He still needed to shower and change, but every effort to leave the conversation was thwarted by her refusal or inability to catch his subtle and polite hints.

“Hey guys.” Marcus’s eyes lit up at the Baltimore twang; Eric slung his arm around his shoulder. “How’s it goin’ over here?” Eric asked with a dopey wide grin.

“Fine,” Shannon said with a tight smile, the red solo cup popping under her perfectly french manicured vice.

Eric raised his brows, catching her hint. “Well, I won’t keep ya too long. Listen, most of us are gonna hit up Barney’s after this and from there, well. We’ll see where the night takes us. You down?” He pointed at Shannon first.

“I’m in.” Her bright green eyes stared hopefully at Marcus.

“Boss?” Eric raised his brows and the conversation dwindled around them as the other agents listened for his answer.

“Ahh, can’t tonight.” The group groaned in unison. “I swear another time and actually-” he flicked his wrist out, checking his watch. “Oooh, in fact - I need to get goin’ soon. It was great talking to you Shan, hope your cat gets to feelin better.”

A ghost of a smile played on Shannon’s lips as she shuffled over to another group in the corner. Needing to clean up, Marcus stacked the unused red solo cups. “Anyone want a refill?” He pointed to the two-liters.

Eric pounced into his line of sight, “What are you doing tonight?” Marcus glanced around the room and the agents prying eyes scattered to all four corners.

“Nothin really,” he tilted his head with a nonchalant shrug, “Just hanging out with a - friend.” His nose wrinkled at the word like it wreaked of sour milk.

“A friend, huh?” Eric twisted his lips to the side, hand flourishing in the air. “And how’d you meet this friend?”

If Eric was trying to be sly it was a piss poor attempt and Marcus scoffed. “She’s my neighbor.”

“Oooooh.” Marcus immediately realized his mistake. Eric leaned in, his voice low “That’s kinky.” He wiggled his brows and Marcus couldn’t help but chuckle, little did he know. “And is this neighbor, well - does she happen to be…attractive?”

It wasn’t like Marcus was against sharing aspects of his personal life with his colleagues. Hell, his poor secretary had to listen to him pour over his whole life – or at least the trail of failed relationships – at lunch for the first two months. Don’t worry, he bought her something nice for Christmas.

But with her it was…different. For one, he’d never talk about sex and especially not his kinks. Secondly, he didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea or more so…for him to feed into it.

Ignoring the question, Marcus turned to the room. “Last call before it’s going in the fridge.” At the shake of heads, he gathered up as many bottles as he could carry and headed for the break room next door. Eric grabbed the rest and followed right on his heels.

“You’re not very slick, I see what you did there.”

Marcus shook his head, turning the corner. He knew he was a lousy liar and felt it best to not even attempt.

“Ya know,” Eric opened the fridge for him, “Avoidance is a form of admittance,” he said with full, plumped out lips as he packed the bottles in.

“Is that so?” Marcus nodded, then turned his lips down. Offering nothing further before heading back to the conference room.

“Yeah, so you might as well just admit it,” Eric spit near his ear. “Come on. Ya know I’m not gonna give -”

“Fine,” Marcus mumbled, cutting him off before he got a headache. Popping his hip, he smacked his jaw together as Eric beamed like an overexcited child, body jittering and eyes wide – full of hope. “Yes, she’s…attractive.”

Eric let out a gleeful gasp, “Now, was that so hard?” Marcus chuckled at the young agent, the youngest on the team. While some found him exhausting, Marcus found his energy and hopeful attitude refreshing – unless he was the object of his badgering.

“But don’t get too excited,” Marcus said, towering the empty boxes. “We’re just friends.” Marcus dreaded saying the words that acted as a pin, popping Eric’s boastful bubble and deflating him on the spot. Checking the time once more, Marcus went to grab his jacket.

Eric placed his hand on his chest, stopping him. “Now, slow down. Just answer me this, if she’s just a friend. Why don’t you reschedule, huh? I mean, she’s your neighbor - come on, you gotta see her all the time.”

Not nearly enough, Marcus thought but breathed out an easy laugh at Eric’s resilience. He quickly snatched his jacket and coat from the chair.

“And I don’t see you lot enough?” Eric rolled his eyes as Marcus bundled up. “Look, give me a date and I’ll be there. Promise.”

Eric cracked a smile, “Alright, but I’m gonna hold you to that.”

“Trust me, I know.” Marcus slung his briefcase over his shoulder and patted Eric on the back. “Have a good time and don’t get too wild.”

“I can’t make any promises there. Oh - don’t worry about those, we’ll get ‘em. Just go, don’t wanna keep your ‘friend’ waiting.” Marcus dropped the boxes back on the table, then said a quick goodbye to the other agents before rushing out the door.

---

It was a good thing Marcus was such a planner, leaving with enough time to shower and change along with an added extra ten minutes just in case. Of course, like usual all his best laid plans fell apart when two blocks in a fender bender put him at a standstill. Only to be followed up by a detour full of red lights.

By the time he threw his car into park, it was five minutes past and he bolted inside, up the stairs. Coming to an abrupt halt outside her door.

Marcus messed with his hair then cupped a hand over his mouth to check his breath. Pizza and Sprite shot into his nostrils and he cursed, swinging his briefcase around to fumble out a thing of tic-tacs, shaking a few into his hand.

Munching down on them like a beaver, he swallowed. A mint ice coated his throat, making him sputter out a cough as he headed inside.

“I’m here.” His voice was strained, sounding like he just smoked four packs in the car. He cleared his throat, locking the door. “I’m here. Sorry I’m late, there was-” His briefcase thudded to the ground, echoing in the empty room.

“In here,” she called from the bedroom.

“I’m comin’, be right there.” He ripped off his coat and toed off his shoes. “I’m so sorry, it was insane getting here.”

Balmed by the frenzy of traffic, a sudden spike of anticipation hit him along with the scent of vanilla as he walked down the hall. “Did you get all my tex-” The pointless ramblings fizzled on his tongue. “Wow.” He rubbed his hand across his mouth, down his jaw.

There she was, waiting for him on the bed with legs crossed, a languid sway of her foot.

His eyes ping ponged around her. From her thigh high stockings which clipped into a hidden clasp somewhere in the high cut, high neck faux leather leotard; a metal harness wrapped around her neck like a choker, then ran down the center of her slightly puffed out chest to outline her breasts and hide the easy access zippers there; the third zipper wasn’t so hidden, running from just below her navel to somewhere he couldn’t see just yet, but with his deductive reasoning skills had a pretty good idea.

Pursing her glossy stained lips and tilting her head, she pushed up with her hands and the shiny black pumps clicked on the floor. “You were saying?”

“I - uh - I.” The dreamy fog was already starting to creep from the back of his neck to the front of his cortex, he shook his head to try and clear it for just a moment. “Sorry.”

She hummed, “I know you are. It’s a shame though, really.” Her fingers clasped to the zippers at her breasts, a teasing sliver of skin left exposed. “I had these unzipped for you. Just waiting, nothing covering here.” The zippers growled completely shut and he whimpered at the excruciating sound. “But I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

His adrenal gland ignited at the sternness that trickled into her sultry tone. A tingle of suspension creeped across his spine, making his cock harden in his slacks. “Consider this, your first warning.” For some reason he found himself on the verge of willingly falling to his knees.

“I promise,” he rushed out, “It’ll never happen again. I’m so -”

She pressed a finger to his lips, “Oh baby, it’s alright. All is forgiven for now.” She worked at the knot of his red striped tie. “Do you remember the stop light system?” The tie slid from his neck, fast as a whip and the polyester glided around her hands, feeling it in her palms before dropping it on the dresser behind him.

“Yes, I remember.”

“Good.” She craned her neck back to take in his tailor-fit navy suit jacket with matching slacks, paired with a crisp white button up. “Mhmm, I’ve always liked seeing you dressed up like this. Look so handsome.” The compliment burned his cheeks. “So powerful,” she said while untucking his shirt and toying open the buttons. “So assertive. So…Dominant.”

She ripped it wide open and he gasped, only to swallow it back in as her nails grazed his newly exposed chest.

“But, we both know that’s not the case. Don’t we?” The look in her eyes from under her lashes and the power in her stature had his knees nearly buckling, hands shooting to steady himself on the dresser. “Tell me, Marcus. Who’s in charge?”

He gulped down the air in the room, tasting his own desperation on his lips and letting the word, “You,” slip with the breath he took. “You’re in charge.”

She hummed, low and pleasing and he inhaled it, like it was an aphrodisiac, smelling of dark chocolate and red wine. “That’s right. I’m in charge here.” Her knuckles glided along the sparse hairs at his navel and he keened. “But don’t worry, I’m gonna take such good care of you. That’s what you want, right?”

“Please, yes. God, yes,” he said, the neediness of it gleaming in his wide-brown eyes.

“That’s what I thought, now let’s get you out of these clothes.”

Desperation thrummed in her fingers, pushing off his shirt and jacket into a pool at his feet. The idea that she was eager to see him naked, that she desired his body made his cock pulse, begging for attention that she avoided while undoing his belt and tossing it to the side.

Suddenly, out of nowhere she was crouching (refusing to kneel) and his body went taut. She peered up at him, slowly licking her lips then eyeing his cock. Burying her nose at the apex of his clothed thigh, his knuckles burned as his palms dug into the wood, fighting the buck of his hips.

With a taunting hum, she pulled back and flicked open the button, carefully unzipping his slacks. Tugging them down, joined by his black briefs soon after. His cock nearly whacked her in the face as it sprung free.

“Much better.” She popped back up, and looked him up and down. “How ‘bout you get comfortable.”

Marcus’s brows pulled tight when she stepped to the side. He hadn’t realized when coming in – obviously distracted by much more pressing things – but her beed had been transformed into a relatively flat surface, no pillows and only the comforter and fitted sheet remained.

She motioned to the bed and he stepped out of his clothes, leaving them in a heap to sit at the edge. A box on the vanity caught the corner of his eyes – black velvet and no bigger than one for shoes. Following his line of sight, she smirked. “Oh, I see you found your present.”

His smile betrayed him, “You got something for me?”

“Mh-mmm.” A naughty grin quirked her lips as she tipped back the lid and pulled out a red rope that made him squirm. “You liked being tied up last time?” Aside from the small inflection and the waiting look in her eyes, her matter-of-fact tone hardly posed a question.

“Yes,” he squeaked out and she gave a short nod.

“Yeah? You looked so good tied up. Did so good for me. But I think you can handle a little more, don’t you?”

Suspense wracked his body as she gingerly put the red rope to the side and pulled out two separate restraints. Similar to the ones she used last time, a cuff at one end and a belt enclosure on the other, but these were connected by a short silver chain. She glanced down at his feet and he realized they were meant for his ankles.

His eyes shined at the idea, cock twitching for her to see. “I think - I think I can take it. I wanna try.”

“Baby, I’m so proud of you. You’re doing so good using your words.” She beamed and his neck went flush like a teacher’s pet. “Okay, go on lay back for me.” He obeyed her order without conviction. Laying flat on his back and taking each directive as she positioned him exactly where she wanted.

Her footboard looked like a golden halfpipe, a dip in the middle perfect for easy crawling access with a curve that led into a solid pole at each end – perfect for ankle restraints. It fit her needs to a tee and left him wondering just how long it took her to find it.

Propping up on his elbow to watch, she secured his ankles to the bedpost, tugging at her request and assuring her it wasn’t too much. As she snatched up the red rope, Marcus laid back and stared up at the ceiling. The mattress dipped under her weight and the scent of her rich perfume wafted over.

His breath hitched and he looked over, finding himself mere inches from the strip of satin running down the center of her thighs. His tongue darted out, imagining tracing it up the crease and further to her warm wet cunt. The memory of how she tasted tingled his tongue, and he groaned – ravenous for more.

“Clasp your hands together.” Her voice knocked him from his thoughts and he followed her model. “Just like that, now above your head.” The rope was surprisingly soft, made of cotton with an easy slip ring that had his hands bound in seconds.

His biceps flexed as she looped the rope over the headboard. Pulling, his muscles stung and he groaned at the feeling – but shockingly not in pain, but in pleasure. “Too tight?” She asked.

He gnawed on his cheek, confused by how his cock throbbed at the dull discomfort and he shook his head.

“Oh, did you like that?” She asked – a mix of shock and intrigue. A shy smile plumped his flush cheeks and she offered him another small tug – only a mere bit, but still had his head lulling back with a low moan; she rumbled out a sound of approval and slotted the information away for later.

With him securely knotted to the headboard, she stepped back to appraise her work like an artist finally seeing her muse on display. Actually, how she examined him made him feel like he was art, studying all the tiny details: the subtle twitch of his strained muscles, beads of sweat just beginning to drip down his browline, the weight of each heavy draw of his chest.

“So beautiful,” she said, as her eyes lingered particularly long on what being at her complete mercy inflicted upon him, cock red and pulsing for her.

Gaining a wicked gratification from it, a grin teased her lips. “Tug,” she ordered. He complied and a thrill ran down his spine as the restraints had him basically nailed to the mattress. Grabbing a small pillow and a thin, folded up blanket from under the bed, she put one to support his lower back and the other under his neck for both comfort and watching purposes.

He stared up at the ceiling, trying and failing to control his breathing as her heels clicked around the room. He’d expected her to crawl between his thighs but, instead she crawled in next to him. Pulling her legs up tight and stacking her knees, heels teetering off the edge.

“You’re so handsome, Marcus.” The raw honesty in her voice and the vulnerability of the moment left a salty taste in the back of his throat. Which was momentarily forgotten as her focus zeroed in on the parts she previously neglected; fingertips dancing along the pulsing vein of his neck to his Adam’s apple. “Did you take care of your problem once you left the other night?”

The realization of how utterly exposed he was stabbed at him like a splinter, a tinge of embarrassment crawling into his skin. He fought through his years of conditioning, of holding back. “Uh-huh,” his eyes rolled skyward. “I had to.” She frowned at the ounce of residual shame that wrapped itself around his hoarse voice like a cobra.

She caressed his jaw, “Did it feel good?”

“Yes,” he licked his dry lips. “Of course.”

“Then there’s no shame about it.” He let out a single breathy laugh at how her easy response seemed to ease the worry between his brows. He knew she wasn’t being flippant, but instead trying to show him there was no shame or judgment here, in her room. “Now tell me, did you think of me?”

“Always,” he choked out, “I always think of you.”

“Good,” she said, her hand went back and forth over his collarbone. “I want you to only think of me when you touch yourself.” The slight possessiveness in her comment made his cock twitch. “You wanna know a secret, Marcus?”

“Yeah” he whimpered.

She leaned in, a breath – then another against the shell of his ear. “I fucked myself thinking of you.”

A jolt of arousal shot down his spine at the thought of her in this very bed with her fingers deep inside her and his name on her lips. A helpless whine escaped him as his hips tried to surge upwards.

“I imagined you just like this,” her hand grazed up and down the center of his chest and the desire in the pit of his belly ignited in a blazing fire. “All tied up for me. With your cock buried inside of me as I barely rocked my hips, just keeping you right there. So hard and pulsing. God, it got me so wet, just thinking of you on edge, those sweet little sounds you make as you beg for release.”

The erotic words played like a porno in his mind and his eyes shut for just a moment to watch the fantasy. But suddenly her fingertips brushed his nipple and everything – the rustle of the comforter, the faint traffic floating in and his pathetic mewl – turned to radio static in his ears.

“Oh, you like that?” She repeated the motion on the other side and it shocked him how he keened, so sensitive. “Has no one ever touched you there?”

She continued her teasing ministrations, every word that reached his slumped open mouth turned into a soft gasp. “No,” he finally got the word out, shaking his head. “More - please. More.” The plea seemed to tumble out, unexpecting and unsure of exactly what he even meant.

Of course she did. With her fingers in a V-shape she teased around the colored flesh, every so often closing the gap to lightly pinch the skin – an uninhibited moan and a shameless bead of precum converging with each one.

He gulped for air, catching his breath as she maneuvered around him for a better angle. Strong thighs caging in one of his, clothed mound hovering just above his bare skin. She made a show of plunging her fingers into her mouth, sucking them down like it was a popsicle on a hot day. With a lewd pop, a dribble of saliva clinging to the edge of her lips. Spit-soaked digits coming to circle the area, his head slammed against the pillow as she leaned in, blowing on it to bump the skin.

“I bet that feels so good. Doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” he gasped.

“What about this?” She experimentally flicked her tongue across the flesh and his back arched for more.

“Fu- yes. Yes.”

She hummed into his heated skin, stroking it with her tongue over and over again. Switching sides, letting his broken off noises guide her. Her teeth grazed over the plumped flesh then sucked it into her mouth.

His body felt like it was vibrating, pleasure coursing through his veins. Gurgled noises clawed themselves from the depths of his chest, hips desperately bucking in a useless search for her barely out of reach thigh.

As she lavished his tender skin with her tongue, her hand came to work on the other – pinching and teasing the puffing flesh. The nip of pain and simultaneous pleasure had his body zinging with sharp, raw desire.

Desperately panting, gasping her name she kissed the purpled skin. Moving her tongue up into the divot of his neck. Licking the lines of sweat and across his collarbone until he was just a puddle – all dewy skin and sticky belly.

A need for her lips elsewhere bloomed in his chest like a weed. “Please,” he gasped. “Kiss me.”

Blown-wide pupils, doused in lust, met him. Her hand brushed across his cheek, diving into his hair. “Since you asked so nicely,” she hushed a breath apart. Her spit-swollen lips met his, perfectly slotting together in a deep and slow kiss that made the ache in his cock momentarily subside. Only to climb to new heights as it turned more heated – passionate.

Pliant under her, she tugged on his hair. A moan echoed around her mouth and her eager tongue swooped inside. Docile, his lips barely managed to move – hardly kissing her back as she ruined him for anyone else.

The hand in his hair wandered to his taut and stretched biceps, caressing the pulled muscles before dipping down to his cheek, throat and further to the top of his abdomen. The hidden muscles there flexed. “Please,” he groaned into her mouth and she flicked her tongue against his. “Oh God! It feels – so much. Please.”

“Always so polite,” she said, then nipped at his jaw and curled back into his side. The bedposts trembled as her fingernails scratched down his tummy. “Doing so well, baby,” she praised, hand stopping short of his cock to swirl her fingertips around the pearly mess.

“Fuck, look at you.” She showed him her glistening fingers, and his cheeks went scarlet as she spread them, the light shining on the drips slipping through the dips and down to her knuckles. “I love how messy you get for me, it’s so fucking hot.”

Honestly he had no idea his body was capable of making so much cum it actually bordered on concering. Where was it coming from? It was as if the years of repression had stored it all away in a bank, waiting until the day she finally came around.

“I’ve - I’ve never,” his sentence faltered into a high-pitched whine as her slicked up fingertips curled the fat head of his cock. A cry, nearing a shout of her name echoed around the room as she toyed with his slit, dragging her thumb across it – spreading it open.

“What were you saying?” She continued to tease the angry tip, somehow pulling more and more precum from him. “Come on baby. Tell me.”

His glazed brown eyes blinked up at her. “It’s - it’s all for you.” A satisfyingly wicked grin broke through her lips and she rewarded him.

Steady and slick, unhurried. Her fingertips dusted across his balls and skimmed the weeping tip with each long, drawn out stroke of her warm hand. “So pretty like this,” she said in a husky voice. Glancing at his pulsing cock in her loose fist and the wrecked expression on his face – lips broken apart, quivering and the lines of his forehead curled from his weighted brow.

Marcus wanted to memorize this moment, savor it forever. Greed hazed eyes drinking in the inky black outfit, painted to every dip and curve of her skin; her chest heaved, tight puffs of air showing him she wasn’t unaffected by it all.

The need to cum thrummed through him, balls drawing tighter and tighter as it threatened to swallow him whole. But the second he looked down at her tensing thighs and remembered her promise, a new desire roared to life.

“Fuck - please. Let me - taste you.” She bit down on her lip to trap a small moan. “Please. Wanna make you - feel good. Oh - shit, like you make me - Mhm - so good.”

Her hand slowed to a halt, “Is that what you want?” She asked, the piercing and primal look in her eyes sending a shiver down his spine. The loss of friction making him whine. Her hand traveling upwards. “You want me to sit right here?” She tapped his lips.

His tongue darted out, tasting and licking her skin like a reflex. “Fuck - baby, look at you. So needy for it,” she said and he muttered a soft, please, into the pad of her fingers. He whimpered as she ripped her hand away, eying for a moment to check and make sure to which he eagerly nodded.

“You did ask so nicely, baby,” her heels tumbled, one by one to the ground and his heart pounded in his chest like an animal trying to break free of its cage. Finally - so many nights spent fantasizing about this moment and here it was.

“You’ve been so very good so if that’s what you want, then that’s what you’ll get.”

She propped up on her knees, “So patient,” she cooed while unzipping the track from her lower belly all the way to the top of her ass cheeks. “And so sweet.” She spread it open, tucking the track inward.

Grabbing the headboard, she looped one leg around him so her pussy was inches away from his watering mouth. Just out of reach, but close enough to catch a whiff of her intoxicating musky scent.

“Fuck,” He growled, “Smell so good.” Ready to devour her, he wet his lips.

The groan he let out as her nails ran along his scalp, tugging to angle him right where she wanted, was sinfully deep, like it was siphoned through gravel.

He was fully surrounded by her, thighs pressing into his stretched out triceps, glossy and swollen slit just waiting for his tongue – he could spend his life between her legs and be perfectly content.

“Beautiful.” The rasp of breath hit her cunt and she shivered. “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”

Her lips twitched at his praise, “You gonna make me feel good?”

“Mh-hmm, I promise. I will.”

“Okay, hold on, be patient,” she said and he whined. He’d been patient, as patient as he could be – he was growing restless, throbbing and desperate for it. “If you need to stop, blink really really fast five times.”

“Got it,” he rushed out. She held herself there for a moment, then with a single nod carefully descended.

The moment her hot cunt dragged against his lips was indescribable. Tongue graced by her tangy arousal, he moaned, eyes fluttering shut for a moment to let it consume his senses.

She braced her hands on the headboard and started to slowly rock her hips against his tongue. Delirious from it, like a drug that shot liquid lust into his veins, the world around him blurred until a soft gasp of his name brought him back to reality.

Her heated gaze penetrated the mist in his eyes, he looked drunk – dopey eyed and tongue sticking out. There was a want to wrap his arms around her thighs, smash his face into her cunt until he was absolutely drowning in it. He’d fantasized about that very scenario, but being powerless – pinned down by her weight and the restraints was the most blissful torture he’d ever experienced and he basked in the small sounds she took for herself, lapping up the wetness of her already soaked cunt.

“You like me using you?” The sharp intake of breath between her words made his chest swell with pride and cock stir, a fresh bead of precum dripping from the tip. He grunted with a helpless bob of his head – his nose bumping her clit.

Her head dropped back with a moan and the sight of her in the throws of please was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. When she snapped back there was a glint of untamed want in her eyes. The pace started to pick up, extending the slide of her hips so her clit bumped the tip of his nose again and again.

“Fuck - you take it so well. Mhmm - feels - oh. So good. Fuckin’ amazing. Marcus.”

If he was supposed to close his eyes, he didn’t care. There was no way he was tearing himself away from her. Transfixed on how she moved like she was dancing through water; babbling praise and pretty moans dripping from her smeared gloss lips.

“More,” he groaned into her pussy. Her hooded eyes bore into him, waiting and watching for his signal as she took more and more – the bed squeaking as she fucked his face.

The feeling of her wet pussy took over and his brain melted away; he could barely register his own name, let alone the growing ache in his balls nor the small rock of his hips as his cock seeked out a single touch.

“Marcus, fuck. Fuck me with your tongue - yes! Just like that.”

Not needing to be told twice, his tongue dove in and out with surprising dexterity and stamina. Clit grinding against his nose, the musky scent of her arousal enveloped him. A sheen of sweat coated her skin, tinging the taste of her on his tongue.

Wetness dripped down his chin, shimmering just like his petal-pink lips. She was soaked, spit and slick and he knew he’d found heaven on earth and it was between her thighs with his wide, wet tongue sliding in and out of her pulsing walls.

The sounds of pleasure he pulled from her strained his flushed and angry cock, but he remained painfully oblivious.

Grunting and groaning, feral noises vibrated against her folds and made her thighs tense and muscles constrict.

“That’s it baby. Make me cum, come on.” Her words fell out frantic and messy and he whined into her pussy then shook his head back and forth to stimulate her clit further. As she edged closer and closer, the knot in his only belly pulled tighter and tighter.

Her cunt clenched around his tongue. “Marcus!”

A gush of slick hit his tongue and he gasped – the wind knocked from his lungs as his own climax smacked into him. His body curling along with hers.

Piercing and sharp, like nothing he’d ever felt before. Jolts of pleasure were coursing through his body. Cock weeping for friction, desperate and searching as his hips undulate in the air. His eardrums rumbled from tightly clutching his eyes shut, blocking out her face as his cum shot onto his belly and her leather clad back.

Once the waves of pleasure subsided and reality set in, his body burned in utter humiliation. A feeling of shame prickling the edges of his screwed shut eyes.

“Marcus, baby. Marcus.” Her voice sounded like he was underwater. His head insistently shook, unconscious of the movement as she called for him again and again – a soft whisper wrapped with worry as she undid the knot.

Still, he remained frozen, shocked and unmoving, hopeful it would all somehow go away.

“Baby.” Her light caress of his cheek burned like a hot coal.

Why? Why? Why?

Why did that happen? How? He’d never cum untouched. It would’ve been one thing at 15, but at his age? He’d never felt so embarrassed.

“Marcus, please look at me. Baby, look at me.”

After a few seconds and the initial shocked waned, he peeked out. Peeling one eye open to check if the coast was clear before slowly opening the other. Her shoulders relaxed a hair, a soft smile coming to her lips with a gaze full of concern and a dash of regret? – no remorse.

“I - I,” he couldn’t breathe. “I never - I didn’t mean to-”

“No - hey. Marcus.”

“I’m sorry.” He closed his eyes with a deep sigh, wondering why it had to be him?

“Marcus, look at me. Baby.” She gently coaxed his eyes away from the ceiling and to her. “There’s nothing to apologize for.” How could she say that when he could practically hear his cum dripping down her back? “Marcus, it’s okay. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

He shot her a look that said, you can’t be serious.

She looped her leg back around to settle at his side like before. His elbows slackened, but his arms remained above his head, the rope loose around his wrists. Refusing to look down and see it, he instead looked at her and found some solace. “You might think it’s embarrassing.” He snorted, she could say that again. “But I think it’s sexy.”

His brows shot to a cinch. “Really?”

She bit her lip and nodded, “Marcus, I love how reactive you are to my touch. That you get so turned on by me – by bringing me pleasure.” Her eyes and fingers glided down his heaving chest, to the evidence of his untouched climax.

“You have no idea what it does to me, hearing the noises you make. How you shiver at just the smallest touch. You’re so good for me and I haven’t had an orgasm like that in - fuck. I don’t even know.” His breathing came hard and fast and he whimpered as she wiped her finger though his cum then sucked it off with the most lewd moan. “Mh-mmm, taste so good.”

“You do too,” he shyly admitted and she giggled, short and sweet.

“Marcus.” This time, she said his name with a serious tone. “I’m sorry for pushing you too far.” He opened his mouth to protest but she stopped him by placing a finger to his lips. “I may’ve not meant to, but I did. And I never want you to feel embarrassed or anything like that. I just wanna make you feel good -”

“You do,” he rushed out, then blushed. “Obviously.”

“But - I also want you to feel comfortable - safe.” She nuzzled into his neck and he let out a dreamy sigh. “I’m still learning and for this to work, we gotta communicate. Just like we are now.”

“Usually, I’m pretty good at that,” he said. Communication had always been a strong suit of Marcus’s – just not when it came to sex, but surely that would come in time. “I just - shit. I didn’t even realize. That’s never happened to me before.” She smiled against his neck then pulled back to look at him.

“Well, did it feel good?”

He let out an airy laugh and she couldn’t help but smile at the noise. “Yeah. Different, but good. Real good.”

“Good.” She looked down at his soft cock and he could tell she was contemplating by the way her lips shifted from side to side. “Ya know, I had planned on you finishing in my mouth.” His breath caught at how relaxed she sounded, and she peered up at him with a sparkle of mischief. “If you’re interested. I think you could get hard again, what do you think?”

“I am - but I don’t - I don’t know, I’ve never…” he trailed off and she looked shocked, and honestly a little offended.

“Don’t tell me no one has ever made you cum twice in one night.” He nibbled on his bottom lip and shook his head. “One day?” He shook his head again, and she tsked. “Oh Marcus, we gotta change that, do you think you can get it up again? Do you want to? It’s okay if not, it’s entirely up to you.”

“I’d like to try.” He nodded and her fingers swept across his chest, brushing his nipples and his mind and stomach swirled.

“That’s all I ask, baby. And I’m gonna give you the choice if you wanna be tied up or not. However, if I undo you, you gotta be good and not touch without permission.”

“I can’t promise that,” he said light-heartedly, clasping his hands together.

She shuffled off the bed, “I promise, you’ll learn,” she said, closing the easy slip ring around his wrists and tying the rope into a loose knot over the headboard. Honestly, Marcus didn’t really care if he ever learned – he loved being tied up and at her mercy.

After changing out the pillow for one with a little more cushion, making it easier for him to watch, she sauntered to the end of the bed and crawled between his thighs. His cock twitched, and his nose wrinkled from oversensitivity.

“So good, baby,” she whispered and leaned in to clean the mess on his belly. His gasp turned into a moan as she licked across his heated skin. Mumbling praises into his tummy with each swipe of her tongue until all that was left was a glisten of her spit.

She peered up through her lashes and licked her lips, then flicked her tongue over the tip of his cock. It was so precise – intense – an addicting edge that made him keen, unsure if he wanted more or for it to stop entirely.

“More.” His mouth answered for him, and she swiped her tongue against his tip a few more times, each one met by an intense shudder of his body.

Giving his cock a little more time to recover, she turned her attention to his thighs. “So pretty,” she cooed, kissing and brushing her lips along his sticky skin. Teeth grazing over the meaty flesh, sinking her teeth in and sucking a mark high on his thigh.

She repeated the action to the other, and a warmth bloomed in his chest at the secret marks of which only she and him would know of.

By the time she was crawling her way up, lavishing his chest and neck in sweet kisses, his cock was almost fully hard again. “You’re so handsome,” she kissed his cheek, “So amazing,” she kissed the other, “so perfect.” She kissed the edge of his mouth, then lingered her lips above his. “I want you to remember that.”

He shut his eyes – overloaded by emotions – and her lips met his in a tender kiss. Sinking into the feeling, he moaned at the flick of her tongue over the seam, parting to let her map his mouth in slow strokes.

After what felt like a lifetime, but still too short she tugged his bottom lip between her teeth. He growled at the tinge of pain and she released it with a grin. Quick to soothe it with a light suck while reaching down to palm his cock.

“See,” she said, “I knew you could do it.” He smiled through her chaste kiss. She moved downward with soft pecks, ravishing him in the attention he desired and adored.

“Such a gorgeous cock,” she flashed him a lippy smile, “Do you want me to put my mouth on it?”

He bobbed his head, “Please, need your mouth. Need to feel it.” Not wanting to make him beg too much, she licked from the base to tip, swirling her tongue then flattening it over the slit.

“Fuck,” he muttered from his clenched jaw as she traced the thick vein all the way down. “Shitshitshit.” Eyes locked on his, she went lower and his eyes nearly popped out of his head as she took one of his balls into her mouth and sucked.

The feeling was a foreign euphoria and his legs quivered at it. When she released it with a loud pop, he immediately missed it but luckily not for long as she took the other in her warm mouth.

Most women Marcus dated weren’t into giving oral, and he wasn’t the kinda guy to ask for it or pressure it – he liked his partners willing and eager. So it wasn’t shocking that no one had ever sucked on his balls. Actually, he wasn’t sure anyone but himself had ever really touched them without it being a slip of their fingers.

Her lips curled up at the side as she wiggled her tongue along his sack. A pearly blob of precum dribbled onto his belly as she mouthed her way back up, his hips grounding into the mattress as she licked it up, like it was precious and couldn’t be wasted.

“So perfect and all mine,” she praised and he responded with a whimper. “Does it feel good?” She curled her lips inward and took him into her mouth.

He moaned, a low rumble at the hot and wet feeling. Her eyes were magnetic, pooling with lust and his mind began to drift back into that place of blissful oblivion. “Feel - feels - oh so good. Fuh- fuck.”

She sunk lower and lower, but didn’t suck. Going as far down as she could until her throat constricted, then pulled away to take a deep breath before slowly working her way back down.

He’d never seen anything like it, she was working her throat open for him, repeating the action over and over again – each time going deeper than the last. By the time her nose brushed the coarse hairs at the base of his cock, he was a babbling mess. Singing her praise an octave higher, telling her how good it felt and how good she looked.

He had no idea what he did to deserve this, but he wasn’t going to question it.

As she took him fully in her mouth, his body trembled, using every bit of strength not to fuck up into it – not that he’d get very far but it was the principle of it. She sucked and his fingers and toes curled. “You’re amazing,” he groaned. “So - damn - talented.” Each word sounded as if it was punched from his gut.

She choked on a laugh at the compliment. Pulling off his cock, a string of drool connecting her glossy lips to the fat head. “Oh baby, you haven’t seen nothing yet.”

“God. I don’t know if I can handle it.” His smile was lopsided, dizzy with desire which turned to full on vertigo at her smug smirk.

“I know you can baby,” she cooed, kissing the junction of his thigh. “I’ll show you.”

He squeaked, “okay.”

She wrapped her hands around his cock, a firm grip at his base while the other moved the velvety skin across her lips and cheeks, smearing his precum before bringing him into her eager and waiting mouth. Taking him to the hilt in one swoop.

The air was punched from his lungs.

Her free hand came to rest on his hip, rubbing soothing circles as the other kept him from cumming. She swayed her head back and forth and his cock bounced around the back walls of her throat. Judging by the way her moans vibrated against him, she seemed to enjoy the heavy weight of him on her tongue, the salty taste steadily leaking from his purpling tip.

As she bobbed up and down, slow to drag her tongue along his taut length, swirling at the tip before sinking down till her chin hit her hand. His skin was glazed, sweat dripping down his back and collecting in his mussed up hair.

“Fuck, that - oh - feels so good,” he panted. The delicious pressure once again starting to build in his lower belly.

She took him in hand, slowly stroking as she took a few deep breaths. “Baby, I want you to try not to cum. Okay? Just hold out as long as you can, can you do that?”

“Mh-mmm,” he nodded. Both hands on his hips, she pressed to hold in place then wrapped her swollen slips around his cock.

His body and mind disconnected as she began to fuck his cock with her mouth, switching between shallow and deep thrusts. Expertely taking him apart with the most lewd sucking and slurping noises, it was like a porno in real life.

When she needed a breather, she slapped his cock against her tongue. He quivered, holding back. The bed shaking as he cried her name – like he was calling out for his savior which only spurred her on.

Tears pricked his eyes, falling onto his cheeks. He’d just cum, what was it an hour ago? Thirty minutes? Even less? He had no idea, time was relative in her room. The climax seemed to build from the other and coupled with the delayed gratification, the knot in his belly was twisting, unbearably tight.

“I’m - I’m close - I don’t think I can -”

She responded with a moan, glassy eyes telling him it was alright as she continued her brutally divine pace.

It was everything. Every cell and nerve in his body roused – electrified by the tight clasp of her warm mouth. White blobs spotted the blurry outline of her bobbing head, the hitch of her ass in the air. And finally, the tight wire in his belly snapped and utter ecstasy washed him as his vision went black.

The feeling of his cock pulsing, rope after rope of his salty cum surging into the back of her mouth made him gasp. Whimpering her name as she drank it down, sucking every last drop from him until his body twitched, plopping into a satisfied heap. A delirious and lazy smile curled on his lips.

“Oh baby, you did so good. So perfect, amazing.” She continued to praise him, quickly unfastening his ankles and releasing his hands. He couldn’t open his eyes and reached out for her and just like he hoped, she fell into his arms and on the bed. He immediately nuzzled into her chest, dragging his lips over her neck.

“See, I knew you could handle it. You did so good, Marcus.” He hummed at her praise. “Always so good for me – so perfect.” She kissed his forehead and the top of his sweat soaked hair as her nails massaged into it, down to the back of his neck.

The longer he laid there, listening to her praise, the heavier the blanket of sleep became. “You sleepy?” She finally asked and he hummed in response.

“Can I sleep here?” He mumbled into her embrace. She slightly leaned back and lifted his chin to bring his mouth a breath away from hers.

“You don’t ever have to ask.”

She cupped his cheek then tilted her head, going in for a quick kiss – similar to the one he shared at 13, experimental, just testing the waters. Her eyes flickered to his then back to his lips and she kissed him again.

It felt different, so unlike the previous kisses which were always shared in the heat of the moment. Even when those started soft, they always became desperate and filled his chest with something molten and needy.

But this was somehow better. Her lips just lingering on his and the action felt intimate –

No. Stop.

He couldn’t go down that road, don’t read into it, he told himself, just enjoy. He pushed away the flutter in his stomach, ignoring the warm and fuzzy feeling in his chest and melted into her touch.

The kiss was over much too soon and he fought the urge to touch his lips, feel where he missed her most since he’d been in this bed last.

She kissed the tip of his nose and brought him back to burrow into her chest.

He never wanted to leave.

#pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike x f! reader #the mentalist

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a-gal-with-taste · 2 years

Note

shower sex w silco,, breathe if you agree

[Inhaleexhaleinhaleexhale-]

2.8K Words (Silco X F!Reader)

Prequel to Part 1

Warnings: NSFW/Minors DNI, blood/violence mentioned, sex-work, shower-sex, dom-sub undertones, handjob, light edging, P in V sex, a healthy sprinkling of reader simping/catching feels because wet-haired Silco is- 👌

On his 10th visit, he comes to you in blood.

Of which you are no stranger of, and have even spilt some yourself, as have all Undercity residents have had at some point or another. Some would claim it is to survive; in truth, it is a rite of passage, that soon breds into a tragic, but honest necessity of life.

Still, the sight of him splattered with it makes you slip from the bed you recline on without another word, nor hesitation, crossing the room in single-number strides before the door is even closed.

"Eager, are you?" Breathless, tonelessly dry joke as you impatiently tug at the stained coat. A short hiss and a tight grip is suddenly on your wrist, one you know very well by now in a different context, when you pull too hard at a shoulder.

You flick your eyes up to the mask, and, like you have every time since his 3rd, you want nothing more than to drag it off to see his face. "Beloved," You murmur, feeling that grip tighten indescribably at the assigned term he'd chosen on the contract. "Beloved," You whisper again, more urgently as you slip the coat arm free from his shoulder.

The hand that holds you doesn't release, and you feel the ripple of his shudder along your skin.

"...Let me take care of you." "Do you not already?" He knows the answer as well as you do, but you do not give up. His grip is tight, but the arm is lax, allowing you to move your hand, still in his grasp, down closer to your face.

You hear lips part, yours or his, you know not which, as you bring his gloved hand up to your quiet, even breaths. Fingers loosen as your lips slide over the dark leather, before teeth gently close at the edge between tanned-material and man. Hairs rising as you pause a beat to let out a low breath wave over his wrist, before you slowly tug the material off his skin.

He releases you once it reach his fingers, and a moment of pause as the blood-speckled leather is hanging between your teeth, before a thumb comes up to gently rub away the faint smear left behind upon your upper lip.

It stays on your skin, once task complete.

"I think," Eyelashes flutter as the pad of the finger slowly rubs at your skin, and out of habit by this point, you open your mouth and let the glove drop onto the ground, forgotten. "I do indeed, know a way you could take care of me."

You smile, and take his hand into yours.

The brothal showers are practically state of the art, an gift of an anonymous donor, shortly after your newest client came. Swooping metal, half-glowing glass decor and seemingly never-ending supply of hot water.

And handles. Lots of handles, gripping points and stands, with non-slip flooring to drive the implication home.

Your client's mask hangs off one of them, his back to you as water rivets down from dark, smoke-steaked locks that grow limp and dripping in the steaming spray.

Breaking a river with your lips on the curve of his neck, you gently trace the circles of purple and blue already forming with one hand, the soft touches making him shudder. From your delicate handling of his bruises and wounds, or the slow stokes you are giving to his length, it doesn't really matter.

You imagine, sans the long groan that sounds as your fingers swirl the red, thobbing head of his cock, that the noises you're pulling from him would fit well into either dueling sensation.

"Fuck..." You don't attempt to hide your smile, nuzzling your nose against his base-hairline as fingers trail along his hardness, earning another groan through clenched teeth as you give a teasing rub of your thumb on the leaking tip, skin pulled back enough for the full sensitivity to shoot through him at every caring swipe.

In the first couple visits, your client had been near-silent as you did your work. A grunt here, a hiss once or twice, but stern, low orders had been your only reply to every stroke, clench, lick and suckle.

It was almost amusing to see how quickly you could pull a rare extremity from his mouth under your actions. As if on cue, there's a louder, repeated use of a swear as he thumps a fist hard on the showerwall. Responding with volume as you give a series of faster pumps, before slowing back down to gently trace fingers along the details of his prick.

"Tease."

You chuckle, and though the water is close to burning, you see muscles jump at the warm feel of your lips at his neck. "You enjoy it, Beloved. I might know your body better than you know it yourself. I might even know this cock..."

His next moan takes on an interesting, rarely-used high pitch as you close your palm just over the tip. Fingers stroking down as you slowly grind your palm against the exposed tip, feeling the clear pre smearing over your hand at a particularly needy thrust.

"... better than you do at this point, beloved."

There's thump of his forehead hitting the wall in front of him, which is repeated twice, as you pull your hand away from his need to slide both arms from behind, hands smoothing over abdomen, ribs and chest. Fingers skimming over scars of young and old, you settle your hands flat on his chest and, after a beat, close the distance between you two.

Resting your forehead at the back of his skull, you wait to see if he objects. Though you feel muscles tense under your, almost domestic touch, he doesn't, and you close your eyes.

You are no dreamer. No one in your profession is, and you've been doing this long enough to have any concept of fantasies firmly buried in the deepest pit of your mind.

A part of you can't help it. That inane part of you, that'll no doubt one day get you fired, can't help but bask in this moment of simplicity, a sensuality without sex, which was a rare, rare feeling in your line of work.

A part of you can't help but imagine more of these moments, with this client of yours. Being allowed in such intimacy with a man whose taken you, and only you, demanding only that you keep to him. And only him.

Your Beloved.

You decide to blame the name, it's making you sentimental. Hands slowly retracting from his skin, you're unsurprised as your client, speaking up suddenly after what feels like an eternity of silence, croaks out in a rugged tone you're not quite familiar with, "I need to be inside you."

Repressing a small sigh, you go to remove yourself. Not that you don't want him, of course, but you selfishly wanted to stay in this moment. Heat cascading down between the two of you, and nothing, not even a non-negotiable mask, as written on the contract, between you and him...

But you suppose, the bed would do-

His hand shoots from his steel-grip on the wall in front of him to capture your wrist, breathing out a quiet, but urgent, "Right now. Right here." Your breath catches, and a small rumble sounds from his chest when his ears catch it, before he murmurs again in a tone you can't quite decipher, "Close your eyes."

The command is obeyed instantly. And rewarded soon after with two familiar hands cupping either side of your face, and an unfamiliar mouth on yours.

Your gasping exhale is swallowed as a tongue invades yours. Fingers soon smooth from your cheekbones, up through your soaked hair as you send a moan through his mouth, feeling him respond in kind. And though you want nothing more then to run you hands over his own face, you merely latch your hands onto his shoulders, more careful with the injured one.

Your client pulled back enough to rest a forehead against yours, gaze clearly focused downward as you feel fingers beginning to stroke just outside the folds of your pussy. "Soaked already, are you?"

Unable to resist, you reply with a breathless whimper as he fingers slide between your rapidly-slickening thighs, brushing against your clit, "So are you."

A chuckle, and you opened your mouth to feel it on your lips. Anonymity was the foundation of your particular brothel, and you were, dangerously, stupidly, growing too fond of this particular client of yours, to scare away by open your eyes.

He must've appreciated the restraint, for he soon guided your hands to grip the wall behind him, before snaking an arm under one leg to lift it. You wrap it, instinctively and with practice, at his slender waist. Curling a hand into a fist on the wall behind as your hoarse words slip out without your permission, "Let me see you."

The hand gripping your hip as he slowly drags his stiff cock between your lips, twitches in response to your quiet plea, but you only hear a smooth, almost teasing, "No," in reply.

"Let me kiss you."

His lips slam into yours without a second more to spare, through he takes his time sliding his cock into your heat.

Soon, blessedly soon, he is leaving long-needed trails of suckled flesh along your neck and collar as he sets a slow, pace between your legs. The small jerks, and the thundering growls he bites into your flesh are the only betrayals of his impatience as you let out lewd moans between his unrelenting, upward thrusts. In this position, you feel the tip inside you sliding deliciously against your g-spot with every movement, stirring electricity up your spine at every motion.

Water riveting down your body, you tilt your head back as he nurses one particularly long, dark mark into the curve of your neck, pulling back with a quiet, but ragged sigh. The hand not holding your hips as he gives the first of his harsh thrusts into you comes up to cart through the back of your hair.

"Pretty thing, when I have you like this," His voice, and the increasing sounds of the pace picking up, are the sole things cutting through the steam. Until your whimpers begin to grow into earnest moaning. "Gods, you're so good for me. So right for me..."

The cry that spills from you at the first of sudden, direct pounds deep into your cunt, makes him groan loud and long from the way you clench around him. "Fuck... you have a face, bred to be twisted with ecstasy from me."

You couldn't even begin to come up to a respond to that, and he gave you zero opportunities to think of one. Head lolling back into the grip on your hair as you felt your nails claw into the wall behind him, as his tongue pushed back into your mouth at your next choked moan. His own claws dug into your skin as he dragged your face closer to wrestle his mouth with yours.

The heat of your bodies almost rivaling that of the steam and water around the two of you, you felt your body rocket to melting-points after a couple sharp thrusts, and a thumb snaking around to the front of your pelvis to grind against your clit once, twice...

The resulting orgasm almost made him stagger, a rough and vile curse filling the clouded air as you clenched around the cock inside you with a vengeance. Head tossing back as you went stiff in your peak, the heated spray of the shower left you sputtering when you remembered how to breathe.

The mantra of curses brought you down to earth and... oh, damn the contract.

You opened your eyes, and saw him face to face for the first time, your beloved. No masks, no contractual obligations.

Just you, the steam between you, a glowing red eye and a face twisted into ecstasy as he rams into his orgasm, head falling back against the title with mouth falling open. The cum filling your cunt almost makes you climax a second time, and you swear that drinking in every detail of his face is what very-nearly puts you over the edge.

Others would cringe or openly stare in terror at the grey scars, the neverblinking red and black. Some probably consiter it the only remarkable feature, but watching that remaining human eye twist further shut, then teeth grind as he rides out his climax, dark hair having fallen all over his face...

And he said you had a face made for ecstasy. You could find yourself staring at this exact image for hours, and never feel less aflame than you do right now.

Alas, hours he does not give you, for the open-mouth panting comes to a slow halt as he cracks open an eye, teal and hazed with lust as he meets your gaze freely for the first time. No judgement or fury at your disobedience resides in his gaze, just quiet patience and satisfaction as his chest rises and falls with yours as work to regain air in your lungs.

You drink in every detail of his expression as water drips from your lashes, and streams down his face, rippling as it passes over grey, cracked skin and falling off partially scarred parted-lips.

Eyes then flicking back to his eye, watching your study, you hold his gaze for a moment. Then your mouths crash and reach each other half-way, as you end up thrusting your aching pelvis flush to his once more, feeling his spent release drip down from your used hole, down your thighs and down the drain from the action of him once again brought full-hilt within you.

It takes a long time for the hot water to run out.

Unrelated, it takes just as long for the two of you to stop.

"Are you going to end the contract?"

"No." You hum, but don't argue, pulling the fluffy towel closer around your shoulders as you watch him get dressed once more. Every cut or scrape cleaned out and now bandaged, only bruises remain on his skin. With that in mind, it'll be easy for him to dispel speculation of his slight, sore-legged limp as merely side effects of a job gone bad.

You, however, reside in a brothel. The others here know exactly what needing to be partially-carried back to the room by your client means, and no amount of hiding it is going to dismiss the giggles that will undoubtedly arise when you walk out with a limp come morning.

You find that you don't give a damn, and are simply content to recline on the bed as he smooths his cost back into place, reaching up to run a hand through damp locks. "Why?"

He pauses, turning to look at you. "I despise those who don't follow orders." He admits, heading over to the side of the bed where you lay. "Leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, betrayal..." The tone is soft as he speaks in words that should be harsh, and the touch he slids up over your body is equally gentle. Fingertips drag and catch on the curves of your body as you open the sides of the towel around you.

Yes, you're unbelievably sore, more than you've ever been with anyone else in your job, and maybe ever will be, but for him? You're fine with a little more ache.

He doesn't drop his gaze from yours for a moment, however, and soon, his hand finds it's way to your cheek. "But that wasn't a betrayal of trust, now was it?"

You shake your head, ever careful not to shake his touch from your skin as you breath assuringly, "Curiosity." His mouth moves slowly as he repeats it, tasting the word on his tongue, before a little curl appears on his lips. "Well, if that's the case, who am I to punish the curious?"

Leaning down, his lips brush against yours, and automatically, unwillingly as you want to continue drinking-in his visage, your eyes slip close. Softer, perhaps more for himself than for your ears, he adds, "And I reward those who take care... and you take very, very good care of me, my lovely."

Breath catches, he pulls away and slips out before you open your eyes. It's as if he was never there at all, save for the ache between your legs, the gold shining on the counter, and that dooming, horrible warmth that now begins to build in your chest.

#silco x reader #arcane silco #silco #arcane #smut #minors dni #18+ only #arcane fanfic #lemon #request #ask #answered #flawless!verse #my writing #steamy

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anlian-aishang · 3 years

Text

Kinktober Day 6: Hand-Job & Dirty Talk & Edging & Begging

"Levi takes a nice, hot bath. TRYING to relax but reader comes in. Sits on the edge of the bathtub. Basically gives him a handjob underneath the water. Whispering dirty, sultry things. Slightly dom. I wouldn’t say Levi’s a sub in this but he definitely surrenders to readers touch. Reader keeps edging Levi until he’s almost begging with his breathing. Reader finally lets him cum!"

word count: 1700

tags: smut, levi x reader, manual sex, edging, begging

Remember! Levi hates art theft.

Head tilted back against the tile wall, feet pressed to the end of the ceramic tub, water near boiling and a thin layer of bubbles rising halfway past his shoulders. Things had been stressful as always, but at the end of the week, this was the best way to free his mind from thought. It was why he was alarmed to see you, the person who always filled his head, step through the doorway.

Skimpy robe and seductive pace, he already felt his calm under threat: desires sparking, arousal stirring. As your feet sunk into the bathmat and as your fingers began to untie your belt, Levi was thrown into a vertex: conflicting wants that you would join in and that he would get to unwind.

Poor little thing was so strung-out, it seemed he had forgotten that he could have both.

A tug of war within as his hand reached out for your thigh while his words tried to reel himself back in. A teasing reminder for his lover so eager, “I’m trying to relax.”

“I know,” you continued undressing, peeling your garment off your shoulders, “that’s why I’m here.”

Intrigue in the glimpse of his smile. Curious gaze drank you up as you sat down on the edge of his tub. Legs perched on the rim, you dipped your fingers in the water for a while, getting a feel for the temperature among other things.

Levi glanced up to you, a little disappointed, “Not gonna get in?”

You rolled your eyes and pressed a finger to his lips, “Shh…” you cooed, rubbing his back with reassurance, “just let me take care of you.”

Enchanting and enchanted was his mix of anxiety and anticipation. Reduced at first by a platonic massage. Riled quickly by that familiar trail your hands traveled - from his neck, over his chest, the sides of his abdomen, the middle of his V - on which there was only one destination.

You could feel his gasp through his torso, the set of muscles that rose to meet your palm. Realizing where you were headed, he felt a familiar heat rise in his core. Even more steam added to his bath.

Levi threw his attention to you, a look that demanded yours back. It was hot in here, but on its own, it was not enough to garner the insanely red blush on his cheeks, the glimmer of sweat you saw on his skin. Wrapping your hand around his member, you whispered, “Relax, babe.”

Glaring up through slickened bangs, Levi grit his teeth, “You’re making it hard.”

The first few tugs affirmed, “I can tell.”

“That’s not what I -” an indirect interruption: glazing over his slit, stinging stimulation drew a fierce hiss. A sharp inhale and a shaky exhale, Levi stuttered after them, “n’not what I meant…”

Making it even harder as you started to work him. Lotioned hand hugged his girth: your palm curved in a perfect match. Tender fingers ventured through the area they knew well, easily rediscovering that one vein, that one spot, that one nerve that fucked with his head - dismantling his perspective, shortening his sights to you and his pleasure.

Warm water encased your hold as you did him. In spreading your fingers, you allowed the stream to flow through. Hands became silky, stimulation added as both the sea and its goddess played with his length. You were already enough for him, but this bath introduced a new factor - one he had not experienced before, one he did not know how to withstand.

Levi’s hand emerged from the water, a hasty search for support as he clutched you, “H’Hey…” he twitched, “I… I think I’m gonna…”

Normally, those words brought you satisfaction. Tonight, though, a certain dismay.

“So soon…” you gazed down towards him. Pitiful how quickly he had unraveled, unexpected, even. You knew he was on-edge, but still, you expected a little more than this.

One more push would have sent him over, instead, you denied him that, pulling your hand away and resting your chin on it, “Too soon.”

Just another moment and he would have reached his peak. The drastic shift from full contact to none, you found it adorable how long it took him to realize what you had done. Levi spoke no words, his expression said it all. Dazed. Not mad, but he will be.

You drummed your fingers on your lip, petting his hair, “Should we try again?”

Already, he knew. He could read you like a book. That undermining tone was a tell to the tricks you had up your sleeve. Levi knit his brows, throat tightened. Sternly, “Yes.”

Eye contact maintained as you dove back in. Don’t get too comfortable. Gentle at the start: soft touch to match the velvet feel of his skin. Slow back and forth was predictable yet exciting - not too much, not too little. Not hair-raising, but electrifying - not boring, but calming - visible by the untensing of his fingers, the roll of his neck over the brim.

Sultry gaze admired his state, “You like that, don’t you?”

Levi winked one eye open, “Isn’t that obvious?”

Sassy, aren’t we? Maybe he did not know what you had in mind after all. If he knew how merciless you could be, surely, he would have known better than to talk to you like this.

When you felt him loosen up, that was when you decided to change the pace again. Not incremental, but fluid were your shifts in speed. Not even repetition by repetition, but in the middle of them would you accelerate. It did not take long for the pleasure to overtake him once again - his lips parted and chest heaving in the wake of your intensity.

A maintenance of your motions would have gotten him there. But what was the fun in that? Going faster would bring him closer, and lovely would be the whiplash when his driver slammed the brakes. Your hand transferred its leverage from your wrist to your arm. Short and shallow became long and entire.

You paid special attention to his expression, as did he. A conscious lip bite barred the warning he would usually give. You could not deny what you did not know was coming. Thankfully for you, regrettable for him: how his body betrayed itself. That flush in his skin, the quiver in his lip, they could not be held back like his orgasm could.

Again, your oscillations stopped, and immediately, his irritation restarted. A chilling glare and a fiery tone, “What the hell are you doing?”

A tight squeeze of his cock, a hell of a sensation, but not the one that would get him there. Physical pressure was not the punishment, your scolding was, “Raising your voice at me…” you crossed your arms vehemently, “That’s not gonna get you anywhere, Levi.”

Tension in your stare. You knew he would not want to work himself after such a long day. He knew you were the only one who could bring him to that release. If he wanted to get there, he would have to let you lead the way, he would have to follow the rules.

“Fine.” Levi threw his hands over his head, “Have your way with me.”

A smile so sadistic, it sent shivers down his spine. I have and I will.

You held the same blueprint as you had from the start, your plan of action nearly coming to completion. Hands now soaked and softened in the basin were strong and confident, a stark opposite to him. He was so hard that it started to hurt, introducing him to a pain that he loved and hated. Your trials of humanity’s strongest had brought him to his weakest, unable to please himself and clinging to you for relief. Levi could always rely on his own abilities, but now, he was completely in the palm of your hand. Some others loved that relinquishing of responsibility - not him, but you had a feeling that you would teach him to. Head filled with determination expelled on him.

Levi would not fuck it up a third time, he could not afford to. Neutrality had failed as had frustration, and though that frustration was still there - maximizing even - he recognized that he had to disguise it.

How desperate and overstimulated he was, though, his facade of yearning transitioned to his reality. He would not have to play up his condition, in the throes of it, he did not even have the mental capacity to.

Levi arched his back, causing his features to break through the water, their drops to trickle down his trembling body, “P’please…” he whined, “Please let me…”

“Use your words, Levi.” Commanding, nurturing, coaxing him to, “Come on, I know you can do it.”

Teeth tightly clenched. Breath caught in his lungs. Peeking past a vicious squint, steel eyes melted for you as he panted and pleaded, “Please... let me cum…”

“Under one condition.”

“A-Ah…” with his voice uncharacteristically pitched - his exhilaration became yours, “Anything..!”

It was then that you pulled that one move: both hands now, as tight as they could, seizing his shaft from base to end. That vice grip at his length was a captivating contrast to the delicate fingers at his tip: just barely dwindling, fleeting circles traced around his aching head. His heart stopped at recognition of your familiar finishing signature. It was inevitable now, happening now.

A surge more powerful than the previous two combined. See? It was all for your own good.

In that very first second, you revealed your condition, “Tell me how it feels.”

“Oh, fuck… Oh, fuck!” Levi cried. The waves of endorphins were already drowning him - gasping for air, straining to stay above water. If he was to ride them out, however, he knew he would have to find a way, even as you pushed him deeper and deeper.

“It-It feels.., fuck!” Panting was both brisk and heavy, a demand he could not keep up with, “It feels so…!”

The rest was indiscernible even for his long-term partner. In one sense, he had failed to describe the feeling. In another way, he had succeeded - breathless sighs and jerks of his body leaving no doubt as to how fucking good it was for him.

His eyes fluttered shut, his breaths deep. No matter how much he would deny it later, it was clear to you both: he felt much better with you than he ever could have without you.

A night of relaxation was not over, though, he deserved the world. Still on the comedown, you spared him no time: stepping in with him, cranking the handle, a cold shower for you both. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up.”

// Kinktober Year 2 Masterlist //

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi #levi ackerman #kinktober year 2 #anlian writes #my writing #alias's #smut #spice rack #request #specials

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

Text

a nurses job

— Bakugou breaks his arms and as a nurse, you have the responsibility to make sure that he is comfortable, even when he needs to use the bathroom.

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pairing: pro hero!bakugou katsuki x nurse fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, prohero!bakugou, golden showers/water sports/piss kink, degradation (giving), dirty talk, lusting/pining, handjobs

word count: 5,050

a/n: so, I was going to make this a piss in ur mouth and pussy type of fic, but I kept seeing all those beautiful bakugou piss arts where he’s with a nurse.... so this is inspired and brought upon by all the water sports bakugou x nurse art ive seen for three months.

kinktober day 21 main kink: piss | kinktober masterlist

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You’re not quite sure what persuaded you into wanting to become a nurse as a child.

Maybe it was because your quirk (when you hum at an A flat, everyone within 5 meters experiences accelerated healing properties) was useless for Pro Hero work, so you realized early on that being a Pro Hero was a distant dream. Maybe it was because medical staff were still hailed as everyday heroes despite being in a world with people who could perform extraordinary achievements. It started as a small obsession to prove to the soon to be jobless, dream broken, and graduated failures of the hero course high schools that you had done more than them. That you, unlike them, were recognized as a hero.

You were decent with math and science, so you strove for medical school. But with the horrendous costs of schooling, your then living situation, and your dislike of unneeded and unwanted competitive stress, you deterred toward the nursing pathway. It was a pathway where you really found yourself, or at least, you thought so.

Empathy, emotion, and the need to see people come out of a hospital better than when they entered was something that grew on you quickly and obviously. Your earliest clinical rounds often left you with swollen, tired feet from walking around for restless hours, but with a smile on your face that was irreplicable. With every semester in school, you got better, connected better with your patients. Your feet still ache after long shifts, and sometimes your smile is hollow and broken, and if you look closely, you could see dried tears and puffy eyelids, but you wouldn’t ever regret this decision to become a nurse.

At twenty-five, newly graduated from nursing school, already working full time at the best hospital in Japan, while studying for your degree to eventually become a nurse practitioner. You loved your job quite a lot. They had placed you immediately within their Post-OP, ICU, and recovery wings, and even though you were somewhat new, you were celebrating a year of working in a few weeks, you already had some… more than familiar faces.

“Well, Ground Zero-san, I guess you owe me a drink because unless my eyes are deceiving me, it looks like both your arms are broken, no?” you hum, your grin bright and wide, not even attempting to hide it’s glee as your high profile patient sat seething on the hospital bed. “It’s been, what? Two weeks since you last showed up here? You getting old?”

“Oh, would you shut the fuck up, you shitty ass nurse?!” Bakugou snarled, his arms obviously trying to tense and move against the large casts that envelope him. “The fuck would you expect to happen when facing off with a quirk that’s specifically meant to break people’s arms?!”

“Deku didn’t break any arms,” you point out with a soft laugh, eyes still scanning and reading through his charts to check his medical needs and medicine prescribed by the attending and when he should be taking them. “A bit weird that only half of the Wonder Duo was indescribably injured, no?”

A loud snarl ripped from Bakugou’s throat, and you stifled your own laughter as you raised your eyesight to look him straight in his raging eyes.

“I took that damn nerds hits because he’s broken his arms so many fucking times he’ll be forced to amputate them if he breaks them again!” Bakugou’s eyes were near white in his anger, but the intensity of his emotions was heavily diminished by the fact that his arms were strapped to his chest in thick, round bandages.

“You can admit you care for him,” you chide, ignoring his ‘like hell I do!’ Placing the chart down and walking to his IV drip, you checked to see if anything he was hooked to required any changes or whatnot. “Besides, this is not the first time I’ve seen you in here! It was quite surprising to see Ground Zero on bedrest on my first ever shift here.”

That much was true.

You had been working at Tokyo Hospital for nearly nine months now. Within the nine months, you saw a lot of heroes; that much was true. Your quirk was versatile as a nurse, and you were bright, young, very good at your job, and definitely a beautiful individual. So, when you were assigned to be working most of your days healing heroes because they were the backbone of the country, it didn’t quite catch you by surprise. It was a common assignment you had as a nursing student too.

You just didn’t expect the head nurse of the floor to assign one of your five rooms to be holding none other than Ground Zero, a.k.a Bakugou Katsuki.

Of course, you weren’t an idiot. You had known about the explosion hero since high school! You had sat in front of your TV in high school, attempting to do your homework while watching the rather intensive first-year battles. He had done well in every stage, placing within the top three each time and even winning the game! You had cringed at the awards ceremony but had been horrified at the news of his kidnapping.

But after that, with the rising tensions of the villain world upon the dying world left behind by All Might, you had forgotten him for a moment. As time went on, and finally, a new support system was brought forth, Ground Zero, much like his quirk entailed, exploded onto the scene alongside Deku and a few other young heroes.

So, sure, you expected to maybe one day run into the ash-blond hero, but you didn’t expect it to happen on day one.

All things considered, the two of you got along rather well.

His... strong personality did make you wary of him at first, taking his near verbal barrage until you, very flusteredly he will argue, told him to ‘shut up, you butthole!’

You were horrified at your lack of professionalism, and Bakugou had gone silent as he stared at you in silence.

“Did you just call me a butthole?” he echoed, his face full of emotions you could not read. You felt on the verge of panicking, unsure if he was going to potentially tell on you! The sounds of a barking laughter rang in your ear, and you looked up to see his grinning, much more relaxed form. “Are you some shitty preschooler?!”

Thus began a working relationship of sorts between you and Bakugou.

He was an asshole, and you tried your best to not let him talk you off a cliff. It didn’t take very long for you to find out what made him tick surprisingly enough, and you used that to your advantage. The best way to tease him right now was by reminding him that he had been hospitalized more times than Deku, who apparently had held the record for the number of hospitalizations between him and his friends.

“Are you going to mention that shit first meeting every time we talk?!” Bakugou barked, his eyes narrowed as he turned his head away from you.

“After you admit you care deeply for all your friends!” you chirp back, stepping away from his IV drip, satisfied by what you saw. “Well, you look good for now. I’ll be checking up on you every ten to fifteen minutes since you can’t press the button until we can get those casts off! Did ya need anything before I go check on my other patients?”

“Open the damn window; it’s stuffy in here,” Bakugou grumbled, his face finally facing you again.

“Of course,” you smile cheekily, your eyes squinting with your broad grin. “It’s a nurse's job to make their patients comfortable and happy!”

Standing at the side of the bed, you stretched over Bakugou to grab the edge of the window and slide it open. Through your stance, you were entirely aware of how this looked, how this felt. Your breasts centimeters from Bakugou’s face, your eyes never once breaking from the window to feign your innocence as you finally pull away. Even with scrubs on, you could feel his hot, sharp breathes expelling through your clothes, his ears tinging just the smallest bit red as you smile.

“Anything else?” you asked sweetly, failing to hide your impish grin.

“Put the water cup close by,” he grunted, eyes staring at the liter of water at his side table. Well, he wouldn’t be able to use his arms until just before he was set to be discharged, so moving the water closer was a good idea.

Nodding, you grabbed a nearby cup, filling it three-quarters of a way full before placing it onto the feeding table and dragging it near his mouth, a bendy straw already secured into the cup. You watched as he shot forward, putting the plastic straw into his mouth and beginning to drink the cold water. His eyes were back on yours, deceivingly cold had you already not been an expert on his personality.

With one final soft chuckle, you waved at Bakugou as you headed out, a cheerful smile on your face as he continued to drink his water.

“See ya in a few!”

Well, you guess there was one more important detail about your relationship with Bakugou Katsuki. For the past five months, you have been doing everything in your power to seduce him — to get him to admit that he wanted you too.

You knew the ethics and the morals behind falling for a patient of yours, much less a high profile patient at that. You knew that if your little crush was ever found out, you would most definitely be moved from his room. You were also damningly aware that you should have brought up your initial feelings for the explosion hero to your admin the moment it arose. But the thought and the way you were always so happy to be around him eventually overruled your logic. Five months ago, you had stayed at the hospital until nearly three am, talking with a severely concussed Bakugou. You were stationed for an overnight round with the task of making sure that he didn’t fall asleep. And for the first time in your time knowing Bakugou, the two of you somehow clicked into place, and when he was discharged the next morning — the nurse who had a quirk to rid of concussions finally arriving — he had thanked you.

It was so benign, so incredibly simple, yet the way the golden sunshine illuminated his blond hair and made his red eyes shine like a ruby, you found your own tired body feeling heated and warm. He wasn’t such a lousy conversationalist, and you had already enjoyed all your interactions together, yet it still caught you off guard to feel your heart pounding in your throat as he pulled on his jacket and left.

So after coming to terms with your sudden infatuation for the stubborn hero, you began to express your desires and feelings for him without having to say it. For all that he was worth and all that he expressed himself to be extremely observant, Bakugou Katsuki still had no idea that you liked him.

Unfortunately, your scrub nurse uniform wasn’t precisely seductive. The light blue of the breathable, sterile uniform was about as unsexy as uniforms got. But that never stopped you from leaning in too close when doing what Bakugou demanded of you. It didn’t prevent you from accidentally dropping papers in front of him and bending over to show off the curves of your ass.

There had never been a time such as this one where you hated that the old, ‘sexy’ nurse outfits were no longer up to standard and banned from use. How you would have loved to be wearing gartered held stockings just to accidentally flash to Bakugou. But, you suppose that it’s alright. Even though your feelings and ambitions to get the Pro Hero to like you as much as you did him, you never tried to push it.

For now, you were just an asshole tease.

You carried out the rest of your rounds in peace, your pager sitting comfortably in your pocket, unused, unneeded for now. The rest of your four patients were doing well for now.

One was asleep, most likely due to the medicine coursing through his veins, but his vitals remained unchanged.

Another was in the process of getting ready to be discharged, her family there to help her in leaving.

The third was eating his dinner, eyes concentrated on a poker game on the TV as he asked you to help fluff his pillow.

The last was busy with a physical therapist, her forehead slick with sweat as she attempted to sit up from her chair.

All in all, they were all doing fine, and you were back to the beginning, back to Bakugou’s room.

You entered his closed room door to be greeted by an empty bed. Your eyes widened immediately, the initial wave of pure horror flashing through you that by some freak accident, some murderous villain had kidnapped the injured hero straight from the hospital bed.

“Ground Zero-san?!” you called out, a pitched voice of concern frilling your voice as you stumbled through the room. Your eyes were frantically searching the room, fingers feeling the lingering warmth of his body on the bed and your eyes noticing the empty water cup on his table still. The sheets of his bed haphazardly thrown off as if in a struggle.

Your fingers wound around the panic button, your ears straining to hear any sort of sign of Bakugou still being here.

A gritted teeth snarl was muffled from the attached bathroom, and you froze, unable to move as you felt the untouched button in your hands turn as light as a feather. You approached the bathroom door with soft footsteps, the smile on your face, unable to be stopped as you pulled the door open.

The sight you happened upon was something that made your lips curl into a wider smirk as the hospital clothed-clad hero absolutely struggled with his lack of functioning hands and arms to pull down his pants. Something he couldn’t do himself because the socks and slippers on his feet kept him from even attempting to tug his pants off with his toes.

In his struggle, undoubtedly miserable attempt to get his pants and underwear off his waist, Bakugou seemed ignorant to your arrival. His back still towards you, his head tilted down in his struggle as he twisted and pulled at practically nothing.

And as you watched him struggle, you couldn’t help but let your eyes drink in his form that stood tall before you. Most occurrences where you found yourself face to face with Bakugou, he was always tucked in a bed (except that time you realized your feeling for him), whether it was because he needed to be or because he was forced to be. So seeing him in his full height, seeing how despite your size, you were still only at his shoulder, made your eyelashes flutter.

He was tall, so deliciously tall, you wanted to climb onto a chair to see if he would be taller even with that added height. And oh how the flimsy material of his hospital outfit was stretched then against the taut muscles of his back. They flexed and shifted with his aggravation, and the only thought on your mind was to rake your fingers against the tempting muscle and skin.

“Shitty. fucking. villain!” he hissed angrily, sweat trickling down the back of his neck as he still struggled to do what nature called him for.

But you couldn’t help it; the flexing muscles of his back, the lower tenor of his voice, and the way he seemed ridiculously larger than life at the moment tipped your restraint over. Your ability to hold back crashing through you like a tsunami wave, drowning you until you found your hand tethered to the tight spot at the center of his spine, your hushed words drifting to his ear like sweet, warm honey.

“You need any help here, Ground Zero-san?” you asked, your voice just loud enough to have your hot breath fanning against his sweaty exposed neck. You could feel him twitch in your hold, his body stiffening as he whipped his head around to look at you, red eyes wild, wide, and dark.

“Don’t ya know how to fucking knock?!” he snapped, his body flushed at being caught in the bathroom, unable to shed his clothes. He doesn’t move from your touch, and that small detail makes you warm, knowing that he wasn’t entirely repulsed by your touch.

“You were missing from your bed, and I called your name,” you smile despite his angry glare. “I know you are susceptible to hear loss, but I thought you were still in the clear.”

“I ain’t fucking deaf,” Bakugou growled, his face twisted with a frown. “And that still doesn’t explain why the hell you’re here!”

“Oh, were you not just completely struggling earlier?” you feign shock, the grin on your face unstoppable at the embarrassed scowl that sets on his face. You step even closer to him so that your torso is perpendicular to his side. Your hand still gently touching his muscled back, and your free hand gently pressing to his own abdomen, the feeling of his flexed muscles, making you dizzy as you peer down at the white toilet. “Is there a villain in the toilet? I didn’t think that was possible!”

“Of fucking course not, there’s not a shitty villain in the toilet.” Bakugou flushed, his body entirely trapped by you, but he made no play to escape.

“Oh, so did you need help?”

Bakugou stares at you, his mind whirling a kilometer a second as he contemplates his next course of action. The both of you know he needs help, and still, the both of you are aware that his ability to ask of that from you is slim to none given he couldn’t even wait for you to return to his room.

“Tch,” he clicks his tongue angrily, annoyed, completely fed up. His eyes rolling to the ceiling, refusing to acknowledge you as his head nods once. “Help me, shitass nurse.”

“Of course!” you chirp, your eyes finding his hooded ones.

You give him one last warm, sweet smile before the hand on his torso lightly drags down his stomach, soft in its unashamed way of feeling him up. Your head tilted as your fingers hooked into the tight waistband of his pants and pulled it down, the heat of your palm accidentally dragging itself over the imprint of his cock behind his boxers.

The slight, flustered choking noise at the back of his throat didn’t go ignored by you, but rather but aside for later. Your eyes flashing up to see his red eyes wide, his cheeks so lightly dusted with pink as you managed to pull down his boxers too.

“There!” you exclaim, your eyes closing in your grin before you turn your attention back down to his exposed dick.

Immediately, you had to hold back a noise of pure want and lust at the sight of him. He was long, undoubtedly eight inches, definitely more. Although you couldn’t tell how thick, you knew his dick would fill your palm without a struggle. The trimmed, dark blond pubes and the protruding veins are what did it for you, your tongue poking out for a millisecond to wet your lips as you stared at his dark pink head.

“Stop staring at it!” Bakugou hissed, clearly embarrassed if the slight voice crack said anything about it.

You looked back up at him, fake confusion swimming in your eyes as you tilted your head. “It’s only a penis. I see millions of these all the time.”

“Yeah, but it’s fucking weird!”

A soft laugh escaped your lips, your eyes rolling softly as you sighed in retreat, “Fine, fine, let's pee big boy and get you in bed.”

With your dominant hand, you grabbed his dick with a soft grip, pleasure simmering through you at the confirmation of the thick dick in your palm. But it seemed you weren’t the only one who thought that for the moment you tried to steer his dick toward the toilet to assist in aim, Bakugou hissed loudly. His flesh twitching to life in your warm, soft hand as it began to grow upward.

You didn’t say anything; your jaw remained as tight and closed as your vocal box despite the egging need to tease him and celebrate his apparent approval of your touch. So, eventually, in a voice that defied the nervous energy coursing through your veins, you asked: “Didn’t you need to pee?”

Bakugou let out a throaty, guttural groan, his anger hissing between his teeth as his dick twitched again in your hold, growing longer and harder still.

“I can’t take a damn piss with a hard-on, you idiot!” he roared despite the strawberry red blush on his cheeks. You admired the way he was still fighting for control of an upper hand here despite — clearly — not having any.

“Oh, haha! Silly me!” you laugh, your hand shifting against his length, your warm palm getting closer to the base of his cock.

“W-What are you doing?!” Bakugou spluttered, your soft butterfly touches sending him through a loop he clearly wasn’t expecting. “You could just wait for it to die!”

“It’s a nurse's job to make their patients comfortable and happy,” you repeat your words, your hold on his dick growing firmer and harder just as his cock continued to do. “You clearly need to pee, and there’s no telling when your cock will go down.”

“I’LL MAKE IT GO DOWN!” Bakugou yells, but the usual sharpness to his tone has deflated, diminished to nothing but whining embarrassed yell. You look up at his clenched jaw and how a pretty pink glows on his cheeks, and you’re mesmerized.

Looking back down at his growing cock that warms your hand immensely, you hum, slightly twisting your hand around his length. Bakugou shudders, a whine hidden in his throat as you open your own mouth.

“Do you want me to stop?” you question, your eyes fluttering up to look at his clouded red ones. “Do you not need or want me?”

That was a double-headed question if Bakugou ever heard one. He looked at your glossy lips, the way they were pouted, so ready to be kissed, to be claimed, and that delirious look of want and need in your eyes. And he knows better; he knows that this is not the place, not the time to act on emotions like this. The need to pee sits heavily on his lower belly, just like the need to cum makes him twitch and pace uncomfortably. God fucking damn his broken to smithereens arms.

But you already know this, of course, you do. But you also know how stubborn he can be, how anal he can be about the littlest thing. So with no answer, you weaken your grip, making him think that you’re ready to leave, and he falls right into the trap.

“Make it fucking q-quick,” his voice cracks, the embarrassment nearly tangible as you nod your head firmly, your fist tightening around his cock.

Your warm fingers pressed onto his length, beginning at a slow leisurely pace, your eyes glued onto his face, detailing how he reacts to every small flick of your wrist, every little difference of grip in his hands. Your strokes began to grow larger, your fingertips tracing the bulging veins on his cock, your eyes hypnotized by the way his face pinches in his pleasure, the blush on his cheeks, the way the hot pants expelling from his mouth curl warmly in your lower belly.

“Y-You do this with all your shitty patients?” Bakugou growls, but it sounds weak, too blurred and slurred with his increasing pleasure.

Your fingernails drag against the underneath of his cock, tracing the incredibly sensitive skin until he’s slowly thrusting his hips into your fist. “Only the hot ones,” you tease, your thumb pressing against the tip of his beading tip, the warm pre-cum slick and spreading quickly against his flushed tip.

“You’re fucking disgusting,” Bakugou continues, his head tipping backward, exposing the slenderness of his neck that begs for your teeth to sink into. “Just needed to take a fucking piss.”

“Nervous, you’ll pee all over me, and I won’t want to suck your dick?” you ask, your fingers brushing near his scrotum, eyes blazing dangerously at the sight of his gasping, jaw-dropping face. His hips rut forward, leaking cock dripping with his pre-cum, and you giggle softly, fisting him faster, spreading the pre-cum against his heated sex.

Your fingers run against his throbbing length, your palm tight and hot against his cock, the veins you drag across searing against your flesh, ingraining itself onto your skin and memory forever. Despite it all, the obvious near tangible horror Bakugou has on the thought of pissing on you, he continues to fuck into your fist.

“Damn bitch like you would probably l-like it if I pissed on you,” Bakugou pants, his casted arms twitching at his chest. His head tilted away from you, but his eyes burning into you, the red eyes hot as fire against your skin. “You want me to piss on you? Make you my bitch.”

The words burn against your skin, your teeth biting onto your lower lip as you meet his gaze. You’ve never considered it before, never thought you’d be into it. As a nurse, you’ve been around piss, shit, and vomit, and while you had grown unfazed by it, you never considered the prospect of a man pissing on you. But you thought of it, of Bakugou standing above you, free from his casts, hands on his cock as he smirks down at you with golden liquid spraying from his cock, soaking you where you lay.

You shudder, pleasant chills running down your spine as you stare into his eyes yet again.

“And if I do?” you ask, fingers rolling the head of his cock between your forefinger and thumb, relishing in the way that he snarls low in his throat. “What’re you gonna do about that, Ground Zero-san? You gonna piss all over your bitch after you get out of here.”

“You want me to piss on you here?” he asks, his voice snappish, strained, his hips drilling harder into your hand that was quickly speeding up. A battle of power and speed between the both of you as he looms over you, face flushed, pink, and lips demanding to be kissed. “Wouldn’t be surprised if you do.”

“Why’s that?” you breathe, his lips tantalizingly close to yours, a breath away as your hand grips and tightens even more around the base of his cock, causing a pained-pleasured hiss to rip from behind his teeth as he looks at you.

“Don’t act like your shitty ass hasn’t been trying to seduce me every time I show up,” Bakugou gruffs, his hips continuing a drilling rhythm into your fist, his body no longer shy or embarrassed.

“So you noticed but never said anything?” you counter, your fingers shifting over to his swollen, hot balls. You fondle them, tugging at their weight gently, taking in the way his eyes roll to the back of his head and the way his teeth tear into his lip. “Coward.”

“Hah?! Who the fuck—”

You can’t help yourself anymore, your mouth coming to slam against his in a piercing, searing kiss. He moans into the kiss, and you gasp back, tongues clashing together, teeth knocking into each other as awkward, nearing uncomfortable kisses are exchanged. His sweet scent of caramel wafts into your nose, and his grunts and groans are addicting, entirely enthusiastic noises that send your own thighs clenching shut to quiet the heated need in between your thighs.

Your hand increases in its speed, his whines and groans so pretty and piercing into you.

“How fucking gross,” you laugh into his mouth, the slicked heat of his precum lathering your palm until soft noises of your fisting hand begin to fill the sterile bathroom. “You’re a child, wanting to piss on things that you shouldn’t. You came to the bathroom and got a hard-on instead of pissing, Bakugou, aren’t you embarrassed.”

“Y-Y/l/n,” he hissed, his jaw falling slack against your mouth. His hips are drilling into you faster and faster, the throbbing of his cock, the growing, thick scent of his caramel sweat filling the room and your senses. “F-Fuck!”

“Such a dirty, childish pro hero,” you smile your tongue curling into his mouth and dragging against the roof of his mouth as he shudders helplessly against you. “Cum already, Bakugou, cum and piss over yourself like some small brat.”

He shudders, and you find your mouth leaving his own as you stare down, spurting white ropes of cum pour from his tip, completely covering the toilet seat with his sticky white cum. And you watch as soon as his body collapses onto you, entirely spent from the orgasm, yellow piss streaming from his tip.

The toilet fills with his cum and piss, and you grin once his balls and bladder are completely drained. His cock limp and weak in your hand as you hum, your quirk activating and causing the exhausted Pro Hero to recompose himself so that he wasn’t entirely weak against you.

“Such a good patient,” you coo, pulling up Bakugou’s boxers and hospital pants without a second's thought. Patting his butt gently, you watched as his still exhausted red eyes stared at you. You walked over to the sink, washing your hands so that you could continue to finish the rest of your shift.

“Don’t think this is over, shitty nurse.”

You look at him over your shoulder, your fingers curling under the warm water as you grin.

“I expect to be fucked and pissed on next time,” you counter, your smirk devastating and sending a fire right back to Bakugou’s groin. “No freebies anymore.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bbs kinktober 2020 #tw: water sports

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havethetimeofyourstyles · 4 years

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Extra Credit

based on this cause @avhrodite and I were texting, and she told me to write it! so this is for you miss bailey <3

also feedback is always appreciated! literally rb, comment, or an anon ask means the world to fanfic writers, now that tumblr’s algorithm is messed up.

enjoy 7.6k of professor!harry lovelies!

also the intimidating as fuck photo that inspired this, and will be used in the story!

Sexuality Studies. Room 3017.

You had stalled from walking into class with a nervous gut feeling in your stomach with a heavy textbook in your arms, too big to be put in your backpack, but it felt like your book was weighing you down. People were walking around each other to find a vacant seat as you stood there next to the door as you waited till the last minute to walk in and take your seat.

There were a few reasons why you were nervous to walk in. One, it was basically sex class. Your friend had taken the class a few semesters ago, and had told you the basics of it and the rundown. There was a lot of sex talking towards the end.

And although, you’ve had had sex before, you still felt like you were inexperienced. Your sex life was boring, and nonexistent as of a month ago when you broke it off with your, now ex, friends with benefits. He just wasn’t doing the job, like at all. He never made sure you were having a good time or getting off. And that’s just one of the reasons why you broke it off with him. Luckily, he wasn’t mad and didn’t ask questions. Just said ‘oh, okay’ and bid his goodbye. That had made you a bit sad, knowing he didn’t care whatsoever. You two had only been fucking for a month, and the excitement had left your body the first night you slept with him.

The second reason goes along well with the first, and that’s because you aren’t that comfortable. Again, you’ve sex, but you weren’t comfortable in yourself--your sexuality. You never really had time or experience to explore your body or others because you’ve only slept with two people. In that sense, you didn’t know what you liked sexually and what your partner liked, other than blowjobs, handjobs, and being able to cum while fucking you. But there was more to it; you wanted the details, the ticks, sensitive spots, everything. But you’ve slept with lousy frat boys who didn’t care enough to ask if you had finished.

You checked your phone for the time, seeing that you have about two minutes before you have to go in. You take a deep breath, walking over to the opposite side of the wall, preparing yourself to walk in. You don’t know why it was so hard for you to just walk in and sit down. The thought of having to sit through an hour and a half class that is mainly about sex isn’t that hard to deal with either, but your insecurities and anxiety is getting the better of you. With a couple of neck rolls and inhales to deep exhales, you were ready before you heard a voice next to you.

“Nervous about the first day?” You look up to find an incredibly attractive man smiling down at you. His smile had made you blush and his intent eye contact had made you nervous. The way he just looks insanely sexy, and you think his hair is better than yours. He wears a simple button down shirt with two birds next to the collar, along with black jeans and boots. And you think, he’s so good looking and dresses well too. For a student, you don’t see anyone dress or look like him at all.

“Uh, kinda? I don’t know,” you say as you are not quite sure what to answer, so you said the easiest thing that didn’t have to do with how you’re feeling right now.

“No need to be nervous. This semester will go by quickly and I heard the professor is really cool too,” the man says with a reassuring smile, and you felt a bit better because he was right. This class would be a breeze and then you wouldn’t have to retake it, unless you fail.

“Yeah, you’re right. Thank you. Uh, do you want to sit next to me?” You made the bold move to ask him, and it had shocked you. You never made the first move, but you figured that you needed more friends anyways.

“Oh, thank you, but can’t do that. Let’s go in, shall we?” He waves his hand out, leading you to go first.

You cheeks were filled with embarrassment, thinking that your bold move was a stupid move. Of course, he didn’t want to sit next to you. He barely knows you. You roll your eyes at yourself, making your way to the first row as all the seats behind the front row were taken, and you didn’t want to take the time to look around. You take a seat as your head sank lower from awkwardness you had felt, and you set your book down on the desk and heard your professor speak.

“Hello, class. Welcome to ‘Sexuality Studies.’ I’m Professor Styles. Shall we get started?” Your mouth had been open the entire time he was introducing himself. Shocked was an understatement as you didn’t realize you were talking to your professor outside of the class, but that hadn’t made your embarrassing moment less worse.

How did you not realize that? You should’ve seen it coming because you were thinking about how no student on campus dresses or looks the way he does, and you didn’t think to put the pieces together.

But, fuck.

He was sexy as a ‘student’, but as the professor, that was a different story. You had felt the weird feeling in your stomach, triggering your arousal as you watched him talk to the entirety of the class about what’s to be expected. You turned around slightly and observed the room; noticing that most of the class were girls and there were a few guys, but the female population dominated the class. All the girls had hearts in their eyes, twirling, and biting their lip as they stared at their new professor; probably hoping they would get some extra credit in the middle of the semester to raise their grade or purposefully failing their test so he can call them into his office and they can have classic office sex.

The thought had made your eyes roll. Not at the thought of office sex because everyone knows that’s hot, but the thought of purposefully doing horrible in the class to fuck the professor is beyond you.

The class had gone by rather quickly, Professor Styles only talking about the basics of what everyone is going to learn such as culture, biological, health, anatomy, art, etc.

You walked out of the class in a hurry, not looking at your new professor and anticipated the next time you’ll meet.

The month had gone by rather smoothly, only taking two classes for the semester, so your workload isn’t too bad. The occasional thought about thinking your professor was a student had haunted you, and you think about it a bit more than you would like; feeling quite embarrassed and you’d hope that he had forgotten all about it.

You were sat at the coffee shop, head in your laptop and notes that you had taken during lecture as you were starting on your paper that is due in a little over two weeks. You were so into your introduction that your fingers were typing away on their own, that you didn't feel the presence of someone beside you.

“Hi. You’re in my sexuality class, right?” A voice from your right becomes present, and you look up, seeing your incredibly attractive professor looking down at you with a smile. There was no way in getting out of this one.

“Yes. Mr. Styles, hi,” you say nervously, but trying your best to hide it with your smile.

“Thought I recognized ya. How are you?”

“I’m doing well. I’m actually working on your paper right now,” you chuckle a bit.

“Are ya? What are you writing it on?” You get a bit sidetracked, realizing that he’s still standing and all of your stuff sits on the opposite side of the table. You reach over to move it onto your lap.

“You can sit if you’d like,” you offer. Harry debates for a second, and sees that there’s no harm in sitting with your student, so he gladly takes the seat across from you. “But I’m writing it on the fine line between masculinity and femininity.”

“Ahh, yes. That’s one of my favorite topics that we discussed,” he says.

“Yeah, me too. Pretty important for this day in age.”

“I’m right there with ya,” he agrees.

For the next 20 minutes, you and Harry talk about some main points. Discussing and going over what ideas you had in mind as Harry listens while nodding his head. He notices how passionate you are with the topic of your paper, and he appreciates the passion. Students will lazily write this paper, and it really shows in their work that makes him a bit disappointed because he had thought that he made the class fun; adding a few jokes and having the student participate with the lecture.

But listening to you talk about all the ideas that you wrote down; so far from the earth as you keep talking as he listens intently to you. You’re a sweet person, he’s noticed. You don’t participate all that much in class, but he figured that’s because you’re just a tad bit shy. And he’s still amused at the fact that you thought he was a student, which flattered him. But in all honesty, he can pass as one, and it wasn’t the first time someone mistaken him for a student.

Just as you were finished talking, a hint of pink made your cheeks flushed as you realized you were talking quite a bit, and keeping him from doing whatever he was supposed to. “I’m sorry. I tend to talk a lot when I get into things.”

“Hey, no need to apologize. I’m glad you told me your ideas because I think they’re great.” He checks the time on his phone and sees that he should get going, and his coffee cup is empty already. “But I should get going. Don’t hesitate to ask me about anything for the paper. I’ll see you in class.”

“Thank you, Mr. Styles. Have a great rest of your day,” you bid him goodbye as he softly says ‘you too.’

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. Although you had been comfortable talking to him, you have never actually had a close conversation with any of your professors, really. Especially not outside of campus. But you really did feel comfortable. You figured that it’s because Harry is in a way, younger than most professors—at least he looks young.

The rest of your time at the coffee shop was spent finishing up the second paragraph and your coffee before you head back to your apartment.

The paper was due in a week, and you felt confident about turning it in on time and doing a great job on it. But that did not stop you from going into Mr. Styles’ office during his office hours, and he did say not to hesitate to ask if you had any questions, so you were using that to your advantage to make your paper even better.

He was surprised to see you just after two days of seeing him at the coffee shop that happened the week prior; asking him how to rephrase some things and seeing where some ideas fit into the paragraphs that are already written. And Harry happily helped you. Although he thinks you don’t need help at all, seeing as you’re right on track on the topic.

But you had felt a sudden surge of confidence that has never hit you before. And you can tell yourself that you’re comfortable enough to ask him questions all you want, but in reality, you wanted to keep talking to him and most importantly, keep seeing him.

He had this sense of comfort to him that made you feel safe. You never felt the awkward tension that there is in when talking to other professors, and you were glad for it. Mr. Styles had made it a safe space for his students to talk to him. And aside from asking him about school related things, you two had gotten to know each other after the important questions were asked. The conversations were harmless, and you looked forward to them everytime.

A knock was heard on his office door and he told whoever was behind it to come in. You walked in with a smile, laptop and notebook held to your chest, walking in slowly as you closed the door behind you.

“Hi, Mr. Styles. Are you busy?”

He shakes his head, “no, no. How can I help you?” Harry had—and was still trying—to keep it professional between you two. And although nothing had happened, he can’t help but stop the flutter of his heart when you would walk in his class or his office as you gave him a small that he adored. He also noticed how concentrated you are during class; making sure to take every single note and word that he says, making him smile at the thought.

“Uh, I was kind of stuck on something that I could definitely use your help with.”

“Sure thing. That’s what I’m here for,” he gives you a smile, and you open your notebook, showing him the many marks and scribbles that you had planted out when brainstorming.

“So I came up with this idea because I thought it would be important to talk about the history of masculinity and femininity. I didn’t want to just talk about the modern times as of now. But maybe research how it affected people back in the day when they weren’t acting as their…assigned sexuality, as you could say.”

“That sounds great. You can talk about that and during the times of the first pride march. That would definitely be interesting. But I would say not to go too into it, it’s a pretty straightforward topic, and there’s just a lot that is covered during those times. Just so you don’t get too ahead of yourself,” he gives his opinion. You listen carefully and take in his words as if you’re making a mental list of things you should and shouldn’t write about.

“Sounds good. Thank you.”

“Is that all?”

“Yeah, I think so. Just wanted to ask you that,” you say as you close your notebook, but not getting up to leave yet.

“Okay, can I ask you something this time?”

“Uh, sure,” you respond nervously.

“I see that you’re pretty much on track of the paper, like you know what you’re talking about. And you seem really confident in what you want to say, which is good. And I’m all ears when it comes to students wanting feedback, but I just have to ask….” anxiety boils through your throat. “Is coming to see me practically 2 or 3 times a week have to do with your paper?” You take a deep inhale, but don’t let your breath loose. He read you extremely well, you have to say. And it was a bold move on Harry’s part to ask that because if you say the opposite, then he assumed pretty hard.

You finally let go of the breath you were holding in and answered, “no.”

“No. It doesn’t have to do with your paper?” You shake your head in confirmation. “Then what does it have to do with?” He asks, and you think he definitely already knows what’s going on, but needs you to say the words.

“I just…wanted to see you,” you say softly.

“And why is that?” At this point, he’s teasing you already. Probably wanting to make a fool out of yourself so he could go home and laugh about it to his girlfriend or boyfriend, which you assume he has. And the bold assumption that you had thought he felt that pull towards you was enough to make you feel embarrassed for the second time in front of him.

But the remains of the confidence were still pooling in your head, and you figured you had nothing to lose.

“I wanted to see you because… I can’t deny this attraction I feel towards you. And it’s not based solely on your looks either because no can hide the fact that you’re insanely attractive, but I’ve gotten to know you for who you are this past week and we had some good talks, which was nice because no one has ever gotten to know me well enough for me to fall for them within a week.”

You finish your confession with a straight face, but there was still a hint of hope that he would tell you he felt the same way.

“And on the topic of no one getting to know me, and this is a sexuality class and you’ve recently started talking about sex; I’ve never truly had the chance to explore with partners sexually and explore my sexuality more in depth than just someone sticking their dick inside me, and calling it good sex. So, you talking to me and getting to know me means a lot because no one wants to waste their time on what I like and what I’m into.”

You had said a mouthful, and it can be heard as inappropriate to say that to your professor, but again, why would a sexuality teacher judge you based on your past sex life?

A minute had passed that immediately felt like an hour. The only thing that was heard was the ticking of the wall clock, and that made the tension even more unbearable.

You get up from out of the chair, “I’m gonna go. Thanks for the help, Mr Styles.”

Before you reach for the door, he finally decides to speak, “Wait.” You turn around slowly and watch him get up from his chair, and walk towards you. His eyes are dark, and they don’t leave yours as he reaches you.

The proximity is close enough that you could lean forward and be pressed up against his chest, but you’re afraid that you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself if you do that.

“You’ve fallen for me?” Is the thing that he could respond with after all that you’ve said.

“Yes. I’ve developed a crush on you, well, more than a crush because I do like you,” you say as you look up at him. He looks down at you intently, lips rolled into his mouth. He smells amazing from how close you are, that it’s like a potion that keeps luring you in, wanting more.

“Do ya?”

“I think I make myself pretty clear on that,” you respond with a bit of sass.

“Don’t give me attitude,” his tone changed to dominant, and a pool in your panties made itself present.

“What are you gonna do about it, Mr Styles?” You test, and move closer to him, lips almost touching. You can possibly reach up and your lips will be in sync. A smirk comes to play on his face as if you’ve made the wrong move, but you’re so ready for what’s to come.

And for a split second, it looked like he was leaning in a tad bit to go in for a kiss, but retracts back. “I’ll see you in my next class.” With that, he pulls back and walks back to his chair.

You’re left stunned, mouth slightly open, surprised he didn’t make a move. He didn’t even tell you if he felt the same way, and if it were any other day, you would’ve felt extremely sad, but there was so much tension in the room you needed to go home and take care of yourself.

And that’s what you did.

Once you got back home, you ran a bath for yourself and sat in it as you ran over your skin, leading to where you ached the most. Many thoughts of Mr. Styles doing this to you as he sat behind you in the bath, knowing that you would make a mess on his long fingers and pretty hands. And that definitely helped you reach our orgasm as you moan out his name, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly odd about it.

You finally turned in your paper on the last day it was due, and you were extremely happy with it. You added the history of not acting like your original self, taking Mr. Styles’ advice and not going too in depth with it. This has marked as a halfway point to graduating with your bachelors, and you were ecstatic.

It had also been a week since the tension filled scene that had happened in your professor’s office, and you haven’t been back since. Seeming as you didn’t need to since there were no needed assignments, but you had thought you would visit him in his office everyday after what you had confessed.

It didn’t get easier sitting in his class as he stood up in front of everyone looking so hot as he wore a crisp blue button down with a polka dot tie, and a pink blazer over it. He knew your secret. He knew that you had the hots for him. And he knew that he didn’t say anything to reciprocate those feelings. And you tried very hard not to let it get to you.

The lecture had ted to your paper topic: masculinity and femininity. But this time, it was open for class discussion. You weren’t big on talking in class; just preferred listening to everyone’s opinions and making your own in your head, but the ignorance that someone had made you argue with him.

“I personally feel like men should stay on the masculinity side, and women on the femininity side.” You had turned around to see the guy who had said that. He was wearing a football jersey of the university, laughing with his two friends.

“And why do you think that?” Mr Styles follows up.

“It’s simple. You shouldn’t act as if you’re someone you’re not-”

“That makes a good point in your argument though,” you interrupt, turning in your seat to look at the jock at the top. “You shouldn’t act like someone you’re not, so why would you act like someone you don’t want to be?” The guy had shut up, making you smirk. “I just think that being masculine and feminine as your biological gender is a social construct. It just takes away the substance of that person when people look down on them for being true to themselves. So, why does masculinity only apply to men, and femininity only apply to women?”

Harry smirks at your discussion. It had surprised him that you spoke up in his class, but it didn’t surprise him when you spoke up about this topic. You had definitely shut down his other student, and he was proud of you for that.

The class was dismissed and as you were making your way towards the door, someone stopped you.

“Hey, really great argument back there.” It was the ignorant jock.

“Thanks.” You walked out of the class to get out of everyone’s way, stopping at the wall across from the class.

“I didn’t mean to sound so douchey back there, but what you said really got me thinking, and I see where you’re coming from.”

“I’m glad. You learn something new everyday…”

Harry was watching you the entire time you left your seat to when his student stopped you to have a chat. He had thought you were going to shut him down for being ignorant, but he saw you smile and laugh a little, making him breath deeply as he glared at you, brows furrowed, and coffee cup in his hand. Harry then sees him take out his phone, obvious that he’s asking for his number and he sees you blush as you talk.

Harry tries to control his breathing, and in another world, steam would be coming out of his ears. He walks towards the door, thinking that he was going to call you into his class, but decides against it and shuts the door.

It was already nearing the end of the semester, and you have yet to talk to him.

If it wasn’t for the fact that you had slightly gotten over his unreciprocated feelings, you would have probably dropped out of the class and waited another semester to finish. But you couldn’t let him do that to you; you were way too close to the finish line.

Mr. Styles was in his final topic of speaking about the fun part of sex, and how it could be pleasurable. He talked about the anatomy of it at first, moving onto the techniques. And the techniques he used on how to pleasure a woman and man had you hot in your seat. He demonstrated using his finger, showing the class the way to finger someone, and you couldn’t help but cross your legs. And you were sure everyone was doing so as well.

The simple demonstration of his fingers making a curling motion as if he’s fingering someone made you clench. You had been right about his fingers bringing you to pleasure, and all you wanted to do was rush home and imagine it again since you have a full visual.

“Okay, class. I have an extra credit opportunity for you.” The class perks up at that. You had a low A in the class, and although you were confident about the final, you didn’t want to risk it, so you listened.

“Since this is a sexuality class, I hoped I didn’t make anyone uncomfortable on what I just did,” the class laughed a bit, and you smiled. “For this extra credit, I want you to go to a sex store and buy a toy that can be pretty much anything. Come back and show me, and I will mark you down for points. I don’t require a paper on this, so it is fairly easy, but this is to show that you should be comfortable in your sexuality, and walking into a sex store should be easy for you because there’s nothing wrong with that whatsoever because everyone has needs and if someone judges you, then they’re not getting laid.” The class laughs again. “You can return it if you want after I mark you down or you can keep it. A win win for everyone! Okay, class dismissed.”

You walked out of class with a smile on your face as Mr Styles lightened up everyone’s mood as everyone was stressing for finals. You were glad for it; the weight on your shoulders were still heavy, but a good laugh was needed.

You had two weeks to buy and show him the extra credit, and two weeks until you graduated. The days were counting down at this point, and before you knew it, it was the final week.

You had passed both of your finals with flying colors, and you had the rest of the week to finally relax as you were graduating at the end of the week. The apartment was a mess, and you finally had time to tidy it up a bit; fix the mess of papers on your kitchen table and put your laundry away. You also used that time to finally go out and get your extra credit.

It would be a lie if you had told yourself that you were too lazy to go out and actually buy your extra credit assignment, but that was far from the truth. If you had energy to get up and clean around your home, then you could have easily gotten up and buy a sex toy.

But it was the anxious feeling that you had that you were going to see him so up close, and actually get to talk to him again that stopped you.

The crush on your professor hadn’t died done any less, but it hadn’t increased either. You were stuck in a plateau of not getting over him and not falling for him more. You figured it’s because you see him every week, so you were hoping by this time, you were on your way to getting over him.

You made your way into the sex shop with nerves as you haven’t been into one before, and it was a very relaxed set up. Various of sex toys used for both genders were set against the wall, and a red curtain that led to something in the back that, you assumed, was the more extreme items.

You scanned the toys, figuring that it would be easy to just get a vibrator. Your hands shook as you went to grab the boxed toy, and you remembered Mr Styles’ words; there’s no reason to be ashamed in buying any of these, and that relaxed you.

The employee who rang you up was the sweetest. She greeted you with a bubbly smile, and told you that you had made a great choice because she has the same one. You didn’t tell her that it was for a school thing, because that would sound really weird, and you didn’t tell her that you were planning on returning it later on.

You drove to campus, hoping that Mr Styles was in his office. The drive was a 30 minute drive as you lived a bit far from the school, but you didn’t mind the drive.

Harry heard a knock on his office door, telling them to enter. His eyes perked up as you made yourself present as you opened the door. His heart was beating in his chest as he saw you; remembering the last time you were in his office and missing the presence of you being close again.

“Hi. How are you?” He pointed to the chair, and you sat down. Your heart was pounding as well, feeling nervous about being in his office again.

“I’m doing good. How are you?”

“I’m well, thanks. What can I do for you?” He asks politely. You reach into your bag and grab the box to show him your extra credit assignment. “Ahh,” he lets out as he sees the box. “Perfect. Let me mark you down for that.”

“Thank you,” you say as you put the toy back inside your bag. “Can I ask how I did on the final? If you’ve already finished grading it.”

“Yes. You did really well, actually,” he says as he shuffles through his papers, looking for the grade book. “Ah, here. You got a 95.” That made you smile. You were quite confident for the final, but hearing that you did well brightened up your day. “And that boosted up your grade to a 94, plus the extra credit, that will go up to a 97.”

Your eyes widened; you had passed both classes with an A, and you were extremely excited about that; and it takes everything in you to not jump up and scream. “Wow, thank you.”

“No need to thank me. You deserve it. I’m proud of you,” he smiles at you, and your heart swoons, telling him a thank you. “You graduate at the end of the week right?” You nod. “Excited?”

“Very. I really only needed to take this class, but I was putting it off because my friend took this course and said it was pretty sexual, and that made me a bit uncomfortable if I’m being honest. But I really enjoyed this class…you made it bearable.” Harry blushes, thinking how happy he is that you took the class with him.

“Well, I’m happy you enjoyed it,” he says .

There was silence that washed over you two with the slightest bit of tension; debating if either one should bring up what happened the last time you were in his office. You were feeling so many things at the moment, and he was too, but you were sure it was inappropriate to talk about it when technically, nothing even happened.

“I should get going,” you say instead.

“Sure thing. I’ll see you…uh, around,” he says hesitantly. You tell him goodbye and walk out of his office, probably the last time you would ever see him.

You had finally graduated, and you couldn’t be more happy and proud for yourself. A relieved feeling ran through you when you had put on your cap and gown, and the thought made you tear up. You were done, for now, before you had to go to grad school and get your masters degree. But either way, you were ecstatic.

Now a week has gone by since graduation, and you decided to do some errands. You also needed to make your way to the sex shop and return your item.

As you entered the door you had walked through once before, your eyes immediately spotted the familiar man who had made your heart flutter by the simple act of eye contact. And if it was by instincts, Harry turns his head towards the door and sees you standing at the entrance. He hadn’t seen you since the time in his office and he saw you walk for graduation, if that counts.

There was no way of avoiding him, so you walked over to him. “Hi, Mr Styles.”

“You know you don’t have to call me that anymore. You graduated already,” he smirks, and you chuckle.

“Then what should I call you?”

Yours. “Harry.”

You tilt your head to the side, seeing how fitting his name is on him. “Okay, Harry. What are you doing here anyways?” The question had slipped out of your mouth, but you think that there’s nothing awkward with it.

“Oh, uh, just looking for a cock ring,” he says honestly. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m actually returning my extra credit purchase,” you chuckle.

“Are ya? Why don't you keep it?”

“I don’t know…I actually never used a toy before, and I got a bit intimidated by it.” Harry nods understandingly.

“See, a win win for everyone. You either get your money back or you get a nice orgasm out of it,” he laughs, and you agree with him.“I think you should keep it. This is the time you get to explore your sexuality.” You debate a bit. He was right, and you did have some spare time as of now, so you decided to keep it; see what this thing can really do.

“If you’d like…would you like to get some lunch with me?” He asks, taking you out of your thoughts.

Your eyes brighten. “Of course.”

It was like you were waiting for this moment to come. You had waited for him to ask you out and properly get to know each other outside of school. Harry had taken you to a small shop that sold burgers and fries, and you two sat in the patio of the shop; talking, eating, and laughing at stories you told each other.

“Can I ask you something?” He nods, nervously. “When I told you I liked you in your office that one time, why didn’t you say anything back?”

“To be honest, I was nervous. You’re 22 and I’m six years older than you, and although that didn’t matter much to me, you were on the edge of graduating. I couldn’t risk that, even with how much I like you. The thought of getting caught and losing your chance to graduate, and possibly your acceptance for your masters, would just be selfish on my part because I couldn’t keep it in my pants… So I waited until you graduated; didn’t even know if I was going to see you again if I’m honest.”

You understood well on why he didn’t do anything to reciprocate his feelings, and you were grateful he didn’t until now.

By the end of it, you didn’t want the day to end so you invited him to your apartment.

You two sat on your couch, which thankfully you cleaned the place before, and talked some more and put on a movie. You two were inching closer to one another until you both were cuddling. You had rested your legs on his as he runs his fingers over your ankles, scratching your skin lightly.

You were breathing heavily, wanting to just make more than just innocent touches. As if Harry read your mind, he turned his head to look at you; a striking look in his eyes as you both look at each other. The air was heavy, sexual tension coming in hot.

“Harry…”

“Yes, love?”

“Kiss me.”

Harry wastes no time in connecting his lips with yours. The softness of your lips meeting his is enough to drive him crazy. The pull you have on his hair makes him let out a moan into your mouth as you whimper into his. Chests are pulled close together, but not close enough as the hold on each other is tight; afraid one might let go.

Harry found himself in your bedroom, and it seemed like he blanked out during that time. Your kisses probably just pulled him into another world, where he debated if this was real life or if he was dreaming it. It was all real, but it was lovely to dream about.

You sat on the bed as you continued to kiss while Harry was standing above you; him leaning down and you reaching up. You were close to his hard on, and it took everything in him not to drop his pants and have you taste him, but it wasn’t going to be about him.

This is going to be about you.

You’d managed to get both of your shirts off, wanting yourself bare and to see his chest. You were surprised with the amount of tattoos that littered his skin. It was beautiful and raw, and him. You went to press a kiss to the butterfly on his stomach; the only one you can reach, and trailing down to the vines on his hips. Harry throws his head back, loving the feeling of your lips on his. You reach for his pants and before you can fully unbutton, he stops you.

“No, no. Tonight’s about you, baby,” he says as his face is close to yours and he kisses the tip of your nose. You nod slightly, feeling yourself blush; and he pushes your shoulder back so you’re fully laying down on your bed. “You want this, right?” Your head nods quickly, enough to make yourself dizzy. “Need words, love.”

“Yes. I want this so bad.” The words come out quickly, eagerly. Harry smirks at your response, and kisses down your stomach towards the hem of your pants.

He fully removes your bottoms, only leaving your panties, and Harry thinks that you’re just a sight. “God, baby, you’re so beautiful,” he says smiling. His words made you blush, shying away from him by turning your head. “Nuh uh, don’t get shy on me now, my love. It’s just me. You’re comfortable with me, right?”

“Of course,” you respond, remembering that he prefers words rather than gestures.

“I’m glad.”

He continues kissing along the hem of your panties, teasing you slightly by dragging his tongue along your skin. The feeling makes you whimper and buck your hips slightly; wanting more than his kisses.

The fast motion of your panties swiftly being removed catches you off guard as you look down and see Harry looking at your bare pussy with hungry eyes. “Look at you. Fuck.” It takes everything in him to not devour you right then and there, but he wanted this moment to last and for you to enjoy yourself. He has been waiting for this moment the first time you walked into his office, and he couldn’t wait to get a taste of you.

“Harry…” you whimper.

“Yes?”

“Please just lick me already.”

Harry kneels on the floor, kissing your inner thighs before taking one long lick up your pussy. The feeling of his tongue makes you moan out loud from the built up tension that you’ve been filled up with since the beginning of the semester.

“Fuck, so good,” he says, going in for another lick, but doesn’t stop this time. He takes your clit into his mouth, sucking on it as well as giving it kitten licks. Your hands fall to his hair as you tug, and your face falls to the side as you try and drown your moans against the mattress.

You continue moaning, but they’re muffled and Harry looks up at you. “No, none of that. Don’t hide away your moans. Wanna hear ya, baby. Let me know I’m licking you up just right--just how you like it,” he says and gets back to eating you out. You give him an ‘okay’ before wailing out in pleasure.

The thought had surprised you as you’ve never been with anyone who made sure you were feeling good and alright. And you absolutely loved it.

Harry’s fingers enter you, pumping and curling and finding your g spot. “Fuck, you’re so wet. Who got you this wet?” He teases.

“You.”

“I did?”

“Yes. You, Mr Styles.” Although you have been calling that more than you called him Harry, his name coming out of your mouth as you’re a moaning mess makes his cock even harder. He stares at you above him with dark eyes and nibbles on the skin of your inner thighs.

“You say you wanna explore? That no one has ever taken the time to make you feel good? Is that right, baby?” He says as he continues fucking you with his fingers.

“Mhm. No one has ever fucked me good enough for me to stay,” you say in an innocent and teasing tone, knowing that Harry will be the exact person that will do that for you.

“How about we have a little fun? With a certain vibrator of yours that you decided not to return? Do ya want that?”

“God, yes please.” Harry kisses your stomach, up to your chest, and then your lips before his fingers slip out and he walks over to unbox the new vibrator. It was a vibrator that you were able to put inside you as it stimulated your clit, and Harry has been dying to use one on you the second you showed it to him for extra credit. You heard the toy turn on as Harry played with the settings.

“Ready?”

“Yes, I’m ready.”

Harry sets the vibrations to the lowest setting as he starts to tease your clit with it; slowly circling around it as you moan out from the new sensation. “Does that feel good? Do you want more?”

“Please. Give me more,” you say as you palm him over his underwear, but he pushes you away. “Baby, you’re hard. Let me touch you, please,” you plead.

“This is all about you, so be a good girl and just enjoy this,” he says and you close your eyes, waiting for what’s to come. Harry sets the setting a bit higher. The setting is on a medium level, more stimulations to your clit as Harry moves the toy around. “Holy shit, that feels so good,” you throw your head back onto the bed.

“Yeah? Good thing I told you to keep it. You can use this when I’m not here to fuck you, unless I tell you not to touch yourself and have you wait until I stuff myself in your tight pussy.” The dirty talk is driving you wild along with the vibrator. “Gonna put it higher,” he says and doesn’t wait for you to answer.

“Oh my...fuck!” The setting is at its highest along with the part of the toy that is inside you; Harry moving the toy around a bit so it can thrust inside of you. You’re completely thrashing around on the sheets, and Harry has to physically spread your legs apart as you keep trying to close them.

Harry lays beside you, kissing your chest and taking your pebbled nipple into his mouth and sucking on it. Your hand naturally finds his hair and pulls on it as you bring his face to yours, and he gives you a solid kiss. You hold him against you as there were no movements of your lips with his; just the touch of your lips together as you try to control your moans.

As you two part, you scream out, “I’m gonna fucking cum!”

“C’mon, let go for me, baby. Cum for me,” Harry encourages you.

After a few more thrusts and vibrations to your clit, your orgasm washes over you and hits you hard. Your back arched, and you turned, still feeling the stimulation from the toy.

“There ya go. That’s it,” Harry says as he slowly pulls the toy out and replacing it with his hand, gently cupping over you and feeling your wetness as you come down from your high. Your moans have been controlled, and you started whimpering from how powerful your peak was. “You’re okay. Shh. You’re okay, baby.”

You buried your face into Harry’s neck, and he scratches your back, calming you down. After a moment, you lift your head up and lazily smile at Harry, causing him to giggle a bit and kiss you. The kiss didn’t last long nor was it deepened; it was a sweet and loving kiss, and a thank you to him.

“Was that okay?” He asks.

“That was fucking amazing. Never came like that before,” you tell him honestly.

“Well, I’m glad,” he kisses your lips briefly as he couldn’t get enough of them.

“So…” you trail off.

“So…” he repeats.

“Do I get my extra credit?” You ask in a playful manner, and he laughs loud making your heart flutter over the beautiful sound of his laugh.

“Oh, baby. You get more than extra credit.”

feedback here <3

MASTERLIST

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borathae · 4 years

Text

“His body is your muse, his sighs the sweetest melodies, if you could you would fill all your film rolls with him.”

Pairing: Taehyung x f. Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, established relationship

Warnings: sub!Taehyung, dom!Reader, GFD (gentle femdom), erotic photography, shibari, finger sucking, handjob, Tae has a kink for being called a good boy, or a praise kink in general, so much body positivity!, marking, choking kink, nipple play, crying kink lol, thigh riding, is it lovemaking? who knows, overstimulation, multiple orgasms (m. receiving), a little bit of rough sex too cause yeS, honestly Taehyung is such a good boy no joke, they are so in love, soft aftercare

Wordcount: 6.5k

a/n: I had this sitting in my drafts for almost a year now and I intially wanted to include it in an angsty sequel to the story, but honestly no jfsjd I want this couple to be happy, but I also wanted to publish the probably hottest smut scene I have written in a while so here it is. A nice smutty oneshot all about our two little photographers being kinky 🤎

You lie on the floor, head to head with your eyes fixated on the ceiling. Watching the lights of the passing traffic dance on the white walls had been your entertainment for the last hour or two. You can’t really tell the time anymore, everything is just a big blur of ticking minutes and long breaths. You haven't talked to each other, listening to music instead. Some dream pop, a request by you as you were in the mood to float on the music tonight.

The room is hot, the heat of today hadn't gone down even after the sun had set behind the river in front of your apartment. You are wearing nothing more than one of his button-up shirts, your panties lay long forgotten right next to your satin pants. Taehyung is wearing nothing but his loose boxers, the shirt he had worn before nothing but a mere memory in his mind.

You close one of your eyes as you guide your film camera to your face, looking through it. The ceiling looks darker through the viewfinder and the shadows of the street below look even more distorted. It’s pretty, you really like it.

Click.

A picture has burned itself on the film, a memory of tonight, the heat, his skin touching yours and the soft humming of the aircon will forever be ingrained on this black and white film. A memory lasting forever.

You sit up. Taehyung doesn't even bat an eyelash, not moving an inch. He is breathing slowly, chest heaving up and down rhythmically. His fingers are on his naked stomach, stretched out except for his pinkie finger which he moves slowly to the melody of the song.

Click.

Another picture. One of his face, up close and personal. His lashes are long, dark, the perfect contrast against his skin. His nose, a gentle slope, reflects the light beautifully. His parted lips come out amazing on pictures, pouty and glistening slightly. He looks beautiful on film. Your favourite motive to capture.

Click.

A close-up of his neck. The bruises and marks on his skin look too pretty in this light. Dark and sinful.

Taehyung chuckles, finally looking at you.

"You like what you are seeing?"

Click.

You look past your camera, grinning. You had perfectly captured his radiating smile. This is going to be one of your favourites, you know it.

"Very much."

Taehyung reaches out to brush his fingers over your naked thigh. His touch elicits goosebumps on your skin. He smiles, his eyes glowing in adoration.

"I like it too. Every time I look into the mirror, I can't help but stare”, he touches his neck with his other hand, tracing a finger down his veins and over his collarbone, “It's art."

Click.

An elegant finger on dark marks. Tenderness meets harshness, the perfect harmony of opposites.

"You know how much I love creating art", you draw patterns on his chest, making him shiver, "especially when my canvas is your body."

Taehyung swallows, licking over his lips. His pupils are dilated, the material around his crotch stretches out a lot more than it did before.

"Then let me be your canvas tonight", he says, rolling his head to the side to reveal more of his neck.

His eyes are closed, his lips parted and his chest heaves up and down quickly. The veins on his neck protrude, throwing deep shadows in this light. How you would love to bite down on them, just hard enough to make him moan and writhe. Such sinful temptations.

Click.

“How wonderful you are darling, your body is a masterpiece”, you whisper, eliciting a breathy gasp from him. Oh how he lives for your praise.

You take your time with feeling up and down his upper body, tracing your fingers over his chest, his bone structure, the way his muscles tense where you touch him. It fascinates you, draws you in, turns you on. He is so reactive to your touches, so ready to be explored, just this alone is art by itself.

“You like that?” you ask, raking your fingernails over his chest.

“Mh-hm”, Taehyung nods, arching his back just slightly. His nipples are hardened, just asking for your attention.

Click.

How beautiful his chest is, covered in goosebumps and with faint pink lines your nails left all over his skin. One day you are going to paint it, hang the picture up above your bed just so you can always admire it.

“You’re so pretty when you’re so reactive”, you rasp, stroking your thumb over his left nipple, the feeling making him moan and bite down on his lower lip.

"You feel so good", he sighs, chasing your touch with sensual arches of his back.

Click.

A boy lost in desire. His natural state, how he is supposed to be.

Fingers rake over his chest, over to his other nipple. He shivers as you touch it, rolling it between your fingers. A sigh escapes him then he looks at you.

"Choke me", he begs, the desperation in his voice going straight to your core.

You chuckle in amusement, heart fluttering in your chest, “you want me to do what?”

“C-choke me”, he looks at you, his eyelids heavy and his cheeks wearing a pink blush, “please?”

“Oh babyboy, it would be my honour”, you coo, abandoning his chest to walk your fingers up his collarbones until they land on his neck.

Your fingers wrap around his throat delicately, putting the smallest amount of pressure on it so he could get used to it. His pulse races in his veins, vibrating against your fingertips. You can feel him swallow before he exhales shakily.

“Thank you”, he breathes, eyes fluttering closed and nose scrunching up.

“You’re so beautiful. Oh Taehyung you are the best boy, just look at you”, you praise, spilling over in adoration for the man below you.

Taehyung smiles at that, heartbeat quickening underneath your fingertips.

“More please”, he rasps and so you comply.

You put pressure on his veins, making him whimper. His back arches off the floor, his hand grasps your wrist. More pressure. Taehyung moans, mouth falling open and fingernails digging into your skin.

Click.

Power, control. Total devotion. The embodiment of submission. He is yours.

"You look so beautiful with my fingers around your throat", you tighten your grip, making him groan in pleasure, "it makes me wonder how you would look like sucking on them."

Taehyung turns his head in an instant, looking up at you with hungry eyes. He opens his mouth for you, groaning needily.

Click.

Hunger, need, obedience. Your little darling ready for your fingers. So good, so turned on.

“I’m yours to find out”, he chokes out, sticking out his ready tongue afterwards.

Click.

So pretty, so wet, sadly the black and white film won’t capture how terribly pink his tongue looks.

You press down on his tongue with two of your fingers, inhaling sharply at the feeling. He is so warm, so soft. How wonderful he feels. His lips instantly close around your digits as he starts sucking on them with vigour. Throaty grunts leave him, his eyes stay fixated on your face.

Click.

Dedication, gratefulness. Animalistic needs. How hungry he is for your fingers, sucking on them like they are the sweetest lollipop.

“Deeper”, you order, pushing more of your fingers inside. You know he can take it, he wants it, needs it. He gags, still sucking. Tears fill his eyes, his cheeks heat up.

"Look at you being so needy for sucking my fingers", you rasp, watching your fingers slip in and out of his perfect mouth, “you’re so good baby, you know that?”

He gags again, grunting afterwards. Taehyung’s eyebrows furrow before his eyes flutter closed. He nods, groaning hungrily. You smile, putting your camera down to cup his cheek instead.

“Yeah, I know you do”, you smile more, caressing his skin, “you are the best boy.”

Taehyung hiccups at that, a single tear rolling down his face as he takes in even more of your fingers. Those aren't bad tears, they are tears of joy. He loves your praise so much.

“You think you can take one more? Mhm, are you going to be a good boy for me?” you whisper.

Taehyung nods, opening his mouth so you could pull out of him. He is panting, needing to catch his breath for a moment.

“I’m a good boy. I want to take more”, he croaks, waiting for your fingers with an opened mouth.

“Gosh you are such a good boy for me”, you almost tear up in adoration.

One, two, three. Three of your fingers rest on his ready tongue, pressing down, releasing high pitched whimpers from your boy.

“Go on suck”, you instruct.

His lips close around them, he starts sucking again, more vigorously than before. Like a famished animal getting fed, he bops his head up and down your fingers, grunting and groaning. It is sloppy and wet, spit runs down his chin and stains your hand. Tears run down his blushing cheeks, heavy breaths leave his nose.

Click.

Needy, dirty, wet. Yours to feed. Yours to gag. Yours.

Taehyung pulls back, swallowing hard. One single strand of spit still connects your fingers with his lips. You watch it until it breaks.

"Touch me?" he asks more than he begs.

His fingers hold your wrists tightly, his eyes stare up at you innocently. He is guiding your hand down his body, stopping at the hem of his boxers. His eyes become big like that of a little puppy. He would never dare put your hand on his cock without your permission, but begging never hurt before. Maybe today you are gracious and give in.

“I’m so hard”, he whimpers, guiding your hand further down his body and yet he never puts it onto his hard cock. Just close enough so you could feel the strain in his boxers.

A fond smile hushes over your lips, a fire burning in your eyes as you look into his desperation-filled face. How you would love to give in, treat him for how good he sucked your fingers, but.

"Not yet, I'm just getting started", you shake your head, making him pout. You chuckle, pulling away from his crotch to let your fingers travel over his soft stomach instead, "don't pout baby, my artwork isn't done yet. It will all be worth it in the end."

Taehyung nods in understanding, "What do you want me to do?" he asks, eyes burning in devotion.

You nod at the bed to your right, "Get on, the usual position", you tell him.

In an instant Taehyung is on his feet and on the bed, waiting for you on his knees with his hands neatly folded on his lap. His eyelids are heavy, he is staring at you through his eyelashes, his lower lip is between his teeth.

Click.

The embodiment of Lust. Temptation so sweet you will never be able to resist.

"So fucking beautiful", you murmur, needing a minute just to admire him.

Taehyung’s lips twitch up into a lopsided smile. He looks down for just a moment, feeling shy, before he raises his gaze again. He looks excited, knowing what will come.

“I’m so ready”, he whispers, watching you strut to the dresser next to the balcony door.

Two black ropes are in your hands. They are your favourites, simple and sleek, they look beautiful on film. Taehyung likes them too, says they are really soft on his skin.

"Oh my favourites", Taehyung almost squeaks in excitement as he watches you walk to him.

"Only the best for my boy", you say fondly, smile washing over your face. He looks so adorable when he gets excited.

Taehyung looks up at you once you stopped in front of him, eyes carrying the entire galaxy in them.

"What are you going to create tonight?" he asks.

"You'll see. It's really pretty", you tell him, tender hands stroking up and down his arms.

The adoration in Taehyung’s eyes grows, he is visibly melting under your gaze. He is so in love with you.

"I'll start now, is that okay with you?" you make sure with him.

"Yes", he answers and nods excitedly.

“Tell me if it is uncomfortable”, you tell him, getting to work, “go on, raise your arms first.”

He follows like the good boy he is, eyes glued to your busy fingers. Soft ropes find their way around his torso, almost making him giggle from how nice the sensation is.

“I will, it feels really good”, he answers, following your hands as they wrap the soft rope around his upper body in a beautiful pattern of knots. Dark streaks of rope draw crosses all over his stomach, his chest and back. The contrast on his skin mouthwatering to look at. He knew eating those extra slices of pizza will pay off, his stomach looks so squishy with the ropes digging into it. You seem to love it too, caressing his belly with soft fingers for just a moment longer. He really is the prettiest boy on earth.

"You have the most beautiful body, darling", you confess the praise in a whisper, abandoning the rope for just a moment to take a picture instead.

Click.

"You make me feel really beautiful", he confesses, ending it with a shy giggle and a cute nose scrunch.

You cup his cheek, caressing his skin.

"That's because you are", you smile, "my most beautiful boy."

Tears well up in his eyes, making them sparkle even more.

"I love you", he whispers.

"I love you too", you murmur, pressing the softest of kisses to his lips. The taste of the chocolate pralines you had shared before still lingers in his kiss. So mellifluous.

You share one intimate moment of gazing and then you return to the ropes around his body. You haven’t finished the artwork yet.

"That's a new pattern tonight. Right?" Taehyung confirms as he watches you tie an especially beautiful knot right in the middle of his chest.

"Yes, I thought of it yesterday whilst taking a walk. I didn't know if it would work but looking at it now, I think it does", you say, finishing the knot.

You brush your fingers over his chest, eliciting goosebumps on his skin.

"I like it-, ah, god", he gasps, arching his back the moment your fingers start playing with his sensitive nipples, "I-it's, it's pretty", he forces out, biting down on his lower lip.

"Thank you", you smile, stopping your movements to finish your artwork.

Taehyung almost whined at the loss of contact, but swallowed it down in the last moment when you made up for it with a tender kiss to the top of his head.

"Can I constrict your arms tonight?" you ask, massaging his arms in slow motions. Your nose is still buried in his hair, inhaling the flowery scent of his shampoo.

Taehyung puts them in position in an instance, nodding his head yes.

"Of course", he is so excited that he is panting. Feeling the rope on his skin turns him on so good. He feels so safe whenever he has them around his body, like nothing in this world can hurt him as long as you adorned him with your art pieces.

You use a pattern already known to you to tie his arms. It is nothing too grand or exciting, so it wouldn't distract from the beautiful rope work you did on his chest. It is the centerpiece of tonights exhibition, the restraints around his arms and wrists are merely there to keep him from wiggling around too much. He has the tendency to move around whenever he gets too turned on.

You tighten the last of the knots, making Taehyung groan as you do. Your eyes flit up to his face in an instance.

“Is it too tight?” you ask, worried you might have overdone it.

“No”, Taehyung shakes his head, "just felt really good."

"Okay", you braid your fingers through his soft locks, making him swallow.

"Darling?" he asks tentatively.

"Yes babyboy?"

"Can you?" he lowers his eyes bashfully, “can you touch my nipples again? It felt really good. Please."

He is so polite, gosh how it makes your heart flutter.

"Oh Taehyung…" you lean down to press a tender kiss to his neck, making him shiver. Your fingers brush over his chest like feathers, eliciting goosebumps all over his skin.

His eyes fall closed, breathy moans slipping past his lips. You kiss him again, further down his neck right where his collarbone starts. Your thumb is drawing perfect circles on his nipple, just how he likes it. You suck on his skin until he whines and arches his back. Another mark of your adoration added to his collection, he'll treasure it until time takes it away from him again.

You straighten up then, making him whine.

"Don't stop, I want more", he sounds cute in the way he is suddenly so demanding.

"Patience babyboy", you chuckle, sending him a fond smile. He is so cute when he pouts.

"But it felt so good", he whines.

"I know it did", you breathe, tilting his head up by his chin to kiss his soft lips. He moans quietly, so happy about your touch.

"Again, please", Taehyung pleads when you break the kiss in order to look at his face instead.

"So needy", you chuckle, pressing a quick peck to his lips before finally taking a step back.

"Let me take a picture of you."

Taehyung almost starts glowing, straightening up slightly and flexing his muscles proudly.

"Okay", he says, watching you with hooded eyes.

Two steps back and you have the perfect view on your work. You have to remember this pattern, it looks amazing on him. All there is missing are some flowers, you’ll remember to buy some for your next session. You smile, biting down on your lower lip. He really does look perfect like that. Hunger burns in your eyes. He is so pretty like that.

Click.

Helplessness, total submission. You have him at your mercy, wrapped up and tied down.

Click.

This time you got closer to him, capturing more of the pattern and less of the surroundings. Taehyung threw his head back as you did, knowing how much you like to see him in this position. Such a good boy indeed.

Click.

Another picture just because you want this memory burned into the film for all eternity.

Taehyung lets his head bounce to the front again and rubs his legs together, circling his hips. The material of his boxers strains against his erection, needy whines leave his throat. He is so turned on by now, his boxers can’t even contain his swollen cock anymore, revealing his pink tip as it rubs against his thigh. How delicious.

"Am I a pretty artwork tonight?" he rasps, eyes dark and hooded.

Click.

Temptation, seduction. Desire burning in eyes.

"The prettiest", you gush, walking back to the bed.

You grab him by his chin, tilting his head up. His pupils are dilated, his lips glistening wet from constantly licking over them, his cheeks heated.

"Am I pretty for you?" Taehyung asks, holding his breath.

"You are the prettiest, darling", you whisper, caressing his cheek with the back of your hand.

"Am I a good boy?" he asks, eyes already glassy again. He lives for your praise so much.

"You are the best boy", you breathe, brushing the tears away before they can roll down his cheeks.

"Can I-", he has to swallow.

"Yes babyboy? Tell me", you encourage him, combing your fingers through his hair.

"Do I deserve your body tonight?" his question is quiet, shy.

"You tell me", you say, tilting his head slightly back with a firm grip on his hair. It is not a harsh tug, Taehyung doesn’t like that, but a soft tug he lives for. He groans, closing his eyes as a shiver runs down his spine.

"Touch me please" he pleads, circling his hips on the bed. He has decided that maybe he does deserve your touch tonight.

"Should I untie you first?"

"No!" he blurts out, cheeks heating up in an instance when he realises how loud he was, "sorry", he mumbles.

"It's fine", you assure him, having to chuckle fondly.

Taehyung relaxes, sighing. Your eyes meet, bodies drawing closer.

"Do I still deserve your touch now?" he asks quietly.

"Does this answer your question?" you ask as you travel your hand up his lap until your fingers rest next to his constrained erection, so close to touching his tip.

"Darling..." he croaks, raveling in the way your fingers ghost up and down his sensitive thigh. He groans, wanting to do nothing more than to buck his hips up and get more of your touch.

"Darling, please", he shivers, “please touch me, please.”

You chuckle at his eagerness, “fine, you deserve it”, you rasp, before finally granting him his wish. You massage his length over the material of his boxers, making him moan in relief.

“Thank you”, he groans, dick twitching in your hands. Your touch is fire on his skin and Taehyung bathes in it until even the last inch of his body tingles.

"You're such a good boy, darling", you rasp, squeezing his length as you continue rubbing it over the material.

"So hard for me", you murmur darkly, your eyes flitting to his exposed tip. It is too pretty not to touch. Your fingers travel down his length until you feel it underneath your fingertips. He is hot against your skin. Taehyung whimpers at your touch, arms straining against the ropes from wiggling around. Your fingers feel so good, touching his sensitive cockhead like that. It makes him so happy to be yours.

"So wet for me", you murmur admiring his precum slickened thigh.

You massage his tip with a firm grip, causing moan after moan to spill out of his parted lips. His arms struggle against the restraints, his fingers twitch on his trembling thighs.

"Shit, oh crap", he normally hates swearing but when you work his body like that, his brain can't come up with anything else.

His eyes are pressed shut, he is blushing. Sweat already started to form on his forehead, making his dark locks stick messily to his skin. His fingers dig into his thighs, it looks painful the way his nails leave crescent moon shapes all over his skin. You started to circle your hips, finding release in what little pleasure your pressed together legs offer you. You are so wet, arousal runs down your thighs, probably ruining the hardwood floor in the process. Who cares however when you have a man such as Taehyung at your mercy?

"You want to cum like this? Want to ruin your boxers with your cum?" you taunt, knowing the effect your words will have on Taehyung.

Taehyung shakes his head vigorously, biting down on his lower lips to stop himself from sobbing out loud. The shame he feels, the embarrassment from being reminded of cumming in his pants like a hormonal boy all those years ago, it makes heat rise to his face and blood rush straight to his crotch. He never told you but this is one of his weaknesses. You had figured this out already, obviously.

"No?" you feign shock all whilst grinding the palm of your hand on his crotch. His hips buck up, a guttural moan leaves him as he throws his head back and arches his back.

Click.

Pure ecstasy. A man lost in the pleasure you grant him. Totally at your mercy.

"You are a liar aren't you? You just want me to play with you a little longer don't you?" you slow down your movements, making him whine.

His eyes are opened now, silently pleading with you to keep going. The ropes dig into his skin, his muscles tense in struggle.

"I'm a liar. Please darling play with me a little longer, please I want more", he begs, writhing on the mattress.

"You are such a needy, little boy aren't you?" you taunt to which he nods his head vigorously.

He will always be your needy boy. He loves being your needy, little boy.

Your hand slips into his boxers, freeing his cock. Taehyung groans as you start pumping him quickly, thighs trembling. He feels so hot and heavy in your fingers, so wet and hard. God those sounds he makes, they are like music to your ears.

"Y-yes I'm such a needy boy", he yelps. His head is thrown back, ecstasy is written all over his face, “so needy, s-so needy”, he croaks.

You can feel how close he is, his legs are shaking, his chest heaving up and down with every quick breath he takes and his cheeks are beet red.

Click.

Your favourite view. A boy so lost in pleasure he doesn’t even realise that you are taking a picture of him. That will make him blush again once you developed it and showed it to him.

"Too bad I'm not finished with you yet", you say, pulling away from him to not only get rid of your shirt but also put down your camera on the bed. You won’t be needing it for quite a while now, not for what you have planned.

"No", he gasps, ripping his eyes open to stare at you in pure panic. "What do you mean? Don't do this, please. I-I-I'm a good boy."

"Oh so you don't want me to ride you instead?" you feign surprise, tilting your head to the side. Taehyung lets his hungry eyes travel over your newly exposed body.

“Of course!” he blurts out, eyes lingering on your soaked core, “p-please ride me.”

“I knew you wouldn’t say no to this”, you coo as you make your way back to the bed. Taehyung watches you the entire time, breathing coming out ragged. “You’re my good, needy boy after all.”

“Yeah, I’m a good boy”, Taehyung mumbles, totally entranced by your pussy. He doesn’t even realise that you had loosened the knots constricting his arms until he can magically move around again. He breaks away from his trance, eyes flitting up to your face. You are like a goddess in his eyes. "Wow", that's all he can think of as he looks at you.

“Go on get naked and comfortable, darling”, you tell him and so he does. He crawls off the bed to sit down on the corner of the mattress instead, feet digging into the floor and legs parted. His boxers he had abandoned on the floor whilst doing so. Being naked with you is the best state of being for him anyway.

"I am ready", he announces proudly, eyes glued to your face. His cock stands so proud and ready for you, it sends new arousal to your entrance.

“God look at you, shit you are perfect”, you coo, stroking your hands over his shoulders. They grow twice in size under your praise.

"Is it okay for you if I tied your arms behind your back?" you ask him, outlining his collarbones with the tip of your fingers.

"Yes of course!" he sounds so excited to be of service for you that he is practically squeaking.

He stretches his arms out in front of his belly, hands folded together and wrists pressed to each other. He looks up at you with big sparkly eyes.

"I am yours", he says with pride glowing in his chest.

"Dear, you really are such a good boy", you say, leaning down and taking both his wrists, "I'm so blessed to have you", you add as you reach for the rope.

You are kissing him as you guide his wrists behind his back, eliciting needy sighs from your boy.

"Keep them there", you tell him to which he nods obediently.

"I'll keep them there."

"Good boy", you praise, crawling on the mattress behind him to fasten the rope.

Taehyung’s breathing visibly speeds up in excitement, his cheeks heating up.

You don’t do anything grand as far as the knots are concerned, just a simple double-column tie to keep everything neat and tidy. His wrists look pretty in that knot.

"There all done", you say, hugging him from behind. Your naked body presses against his, your breath tickles his neck, your arms are so strong around him. Taehyung truly is in heaven right now.

You kiss his neck, flicking your fingers over his nipples at the same time. Taehyung moans, head rolling against your shoulder.

"Mine", you growl softly against his ear and then you are kissing the shell of it.

"Y-yours", Taehyung chokes out, hips writhing on the mattress.

You kiss his neck one more time and then you abandon his body to get to the front instead. You crawl on top of him, having his face between your hands as you kiss him.

Taehyung moans into your mouth at the feeling of your arousal on his naked skin, muscles flexing involuntarily. He really loves it when you ride his thigh, it makes him feel so proud, knowing that he can make you feel so good.

Not long and you have to break the kiss to catch your breath.

"You feel so good", you gasp, rolling your hips down on his muscular thigh.

Taehyung flexes his muscles for you, eyes fixated on where your bodies connect. He is totally mesmerised by it. One day he is going to paint it and hang it above his work desk. But then that would be a terrible idea, he'd get far too horny all the time if he had to look at it on a daily. Maybe he’ll just paint it on a really small canvas and hide it in his wallet so he can look at it whenever you weren’t with him. That is a good ide-

"Fuck!" he suddenly blurts out, head falling back and hips coming off the mattress. You had just wrapped your fingers around his length, pumping it lazily as you study his face with dark eyes.

"I can’t get enough of you darling", you rasp as you scoot closer to his cock, still jerking him off as you do.

"N-neither can I, oh ___ please", he groans, rolling his lower lip between his teeth, "fuck me."

"I was planning to", you tell him, playing with your entrance with the tip of his cock. He is so wet for you, so hard and hot.

Taehyung holds his breath, flexes his arms as waits for the best sensation on earth, you slipping down on his length. You do so slowly, wanting to cherish every second of it. He fits like a glove, as if he was made for you. Taehyung seems to agree with you, moaning as he finally bottoms out.

Your eyes meet in a lustful gaze, both of your mouths parted.

"You feel so good", Taehyung chokes out in a whimper, having to swallow afterwards.

"You too babyboy, you feel amazing", you moan, rolling your hips on his length. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth in perfect harmony with the melodies of the music. Slow and yet so deep your bodies almost melt together.

“Please don’t stop, you feel so good”, Taehyung moans, lips parted and eyes fluttering close in bliss.

“You’re such a good boy”, you rasp, holding onto his shoulders for your own support and so Taehyung wouldn’t fall back, he really is getting lost in the pleasure now.

He really feels amazing lodged so deep inside of you. There are places not even your best toys can satisfy and yet Taehyung manages to graze them in such intense ways your toes curl. His sweet moans fuel your movements, his bliss filled faces spurs you on. Pleasure suits him like nothing else.

“I can’t get enough of you", you growl, before speeding up your movements. You have grown mad, pleasure is consuming you.

You fuck him hard and fast, bouncing on his cock in a precise rhythm. You need it, you want nothing more than to fuck yourself brainless on his perfect cock. You have been turned on for far too long to slow down now that you have started. He just feels too good.

"You have the best dick, babyboy", you croak, fingers twisting in his hair. You moan shamelessly, the knowledge that your neighbours can hear you very clearly only spurring you on. Let them know how good your perfect boyfriends cock makes you feel, maybe they can learn a thing or two.

Taehyung’s moans have been replaced by high pitched squeaks for air at this point, getting fucked out by you with every roll of your hips. His cock is aching for release, his muscles feel sore from struggling against the ropes, he can taste blood on his tongue from biting down on his lower lip too hard. That handjob before ruined him, made him far too sensitive.

"Darling, please slow down", he begs, shaking underneath you, "please slow down or I'll cum."

“You’re such a good boy Tae”, you pant, knowing this will be enough to keep him going as you continue to bounce on his cock. You kiss his neck in encouragement, leaving little bites and licks all over the most sensitive spots.

His body shudders, his cock throbbing inside of you.

“Yes, yes, yes I’m a good boy”, Taehyung yelps, back arching. He feels even bigger inside of you than before, your praise made him like that.

“I’m a good boy”, he sobs, lost in pleasure.

"Yes you are, the best boy", you say breathlessly, hugging his head against your chest as you kiss his hair.

Taehyung already went for hugging you back only to be stopped by the ropes around his wrists. He whines, dick twitching.

"I want to hold you so bad", he croaks.

"You're doing so good baby", you assure him, moving your hips in a restless speed. Your fingernails are digging into his shoulders, your clit is rubbing against his pubic bone. You feel like you are going to burst into flames and yet you can’t stop. His cock feels too good.

Taehyung sobs at your praise, tears spill from his closed eyes. Every fiber of his body aches. God it hurts so good, his head is spinning, his skin is burning, he feels so alive. So close, so god damn close.

"I fucking love your cock babyboy", you groan loudly, throwing your head back and arching your back. Your walls squeeze around him, his cock stimulates your g-spot with every movement of your hips.

Taehyung moans at the new view, watching the way your tits wiggle with every bounce.

“Fuck”, is all he can choke out before he has to close his eyes in order not to cum too soon.

Closing his eyes was useless however. The view was too much for him. His orgasm takes over him in surprise, hard and merciless. He shakes and sobs. He moans and chokes. So much of his perfect cum shoots up into you. So hot, so sticky, so addicting.

“That’ it darling cum for me”, you growl, watching him as he comes undone, drinking in every twitch of his muscles and every change of expression on his face. Surprise, ecstasy, happiness, anguish. You don't stop bouncing on him even after he comes down from his high, chasing your orgasm and overstimulating him in the process.

"Stop, fuck hurts, please s-stop", he whines, writhing underneath you. His eyebrows are furrowed, high pitched sobs leave his trembling lips, his glassy eyes race between yours in desperation.

“I know you can cum again, go on babyboy show me how good you are for me”, you encourage him, fucking him through his shakes. This is the best torture, Taehyung thinks as his cock feels like it might burst.

He is still so hard inside of you, still stretching you out with his cock like he hadn't even reached his high yet. He is such a good toy for you, always so hard and ready.

He croaks your name, swallowing loudly. He is going to cum again, you feel too good not to.

"So close babyboy, fucking duck, gosh damn", nonsense leaves your parted lips as pleasure clouds your mind.

Your muscles burn, your stomach clenches, new arousal drips down his length. His hips meet yours as he starts fucking up into you. The muscles in his arms are killing him, the rope digging into his wrists burns, but he won't stop. Not when you are clenching around him like that and you are basically going cross-eyed at this point. He wants to help you, wants to be a good boy for you and make you cum.

"Tae!" you scream before your orgasm takes control of you.

You are spasming and shaking as clear liquid spills out of you and your eyes roll into the back of your head. It throws Taehyung over the edge too, his seed only adding to the mess of bodily fluids on his lap. It’s aggressive, angry, rough but it feels so, so good. Your bodies are flooded with endorphins, tingling deliciously.

You collapse into his body, holding onto the ropes as you try to catch your breath. Your head is on his shoulder, your eyes are closed.

"I'm bloody spent", you chuckle tiredly.

"Please untie me, I can't hold it any longer", Taehyung groans.

"Of course baby", you reach behind his back untying the knots in three expert moves.

Taehyung groans in relief, shaking his arms to get the ache out of his sore muscles before he collapses back into the mattress, taking you promptly with him.

You are just as sweaty as he is, your bodies sticking together as you rest on his broad chest. Both of you have your eyes closed, not wanting to speak as you are too weak to do so anyways. One hand of Taehyung rests on your lower back, drawing circles on your skin. His other gets caressed by your fingers as they trace the rope marks soothingly and gently.

"I love you so much baby", you whisper, kissing his chest.

"I love you more", he answers, basking in the afterglow.

"Do you want me to get some water for you? Or some cream for your wrists? Also we need to clean up and get you out of your chest ties" you say finally having the energy to raise your head and look at him.

He nods. You take it as a sign to get up, but before you can raise from his chest he pulls you back down.

"Later, I need your hugs now please", he pleads tiredly.

"Of course, handsome, then let's just cuddle for a moment longer", you assure him and scoot further up the bed to kiss his lips.

He smiles into the kiss, humming softly.

"Love that", he breathes against your lips, cuddling into you.

"Me too", you murmur as you press him against your body and bury your nose in his hair.

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ficsnroses · 4 years

Text

Touch - John Wick x Reader

summary : you wake John up with a morning handjob.

warnings : handjob, implied oral sex. x f! reader. fluffy fluff fluff! 2k.

notes : hi loves! this is another fic I never posted because I thought it was a little too similar to another fic I’d wrote. Im posting it now, months later since I don’t have any new content for you atm! feedback is so appreciated. hope you enjoy! xx

In the dewy AM light, your heavy eyes soak open morning glow, a throbbing ache to your temple pitches just as the rays protrude your darkened eyelids. In the wake of the moment, you’d hardly noticed the dip of the mattress beside you, a heavier weight positioned, a tangle of legs and heft of your love’s bulky arm loosely held across your waist.

John holds you so close, so proximate, the gentle brush of his calm, relaxed breathes paints to the soft curve of your neck. The quietude is special, his snooze pacifies, calms something inside you that raced the night prior.

Retiring, falling asleep to a bed empty of his body beside you would never prove easy. The grim thoughts never surrender, the cold, stoic hollowness that comes with him being away far too long had never quite become less crushing.

He’d often come in this way; late in the midnight AM, quieter than a whisper as he’d return in your arms. Perhaps you remember feeling him draw your skin closer, unbeknownst to the surrender of snooze that clouded around you, encapsulated you upon his late night return. In the sea of surrounding blankets and feathery pillows, your lips curl to a gentle smile, a ring of a content hum falling dripped, honey doused off your warm smile his way.

Mornings like this; waking up, with him safe beside you, were quite literally,

incomparable.

His body moulds to yours, body heat collective, nesting together in utter, quiet, harmony. John, this way, was a beauty to be seen. In moments like this, where sleep comes, kisses him, engulfs; wraps him in a serene reduction; you feel most at ease.

Knowing he’s at ease, he’s content, he’s whisked away in nothing but surrender to the part of him that will always stay human. The part of him that rests, reminds him that he is still human, despite the sins that refuse to let him go.

With his warm skin stippled to yours, you feel yourself drift further into his embrace, a content, drowsy smile of your own curling to the gentle twist of your blush stained lips. Although his heavy chest heaves in small, gentle exhales, he seems in ease. He seems calm, a flutter behind his sleep soaked eyelids sure of a visit in dreamland.

You inch in closer, slow, and he stirs slight to the feel of your gentle lips tracing over his skin. Softly, you pepper a love laced peck to his jaw, face nuzzling into his neck; John’s eyes blissfully unaware to the sunlit dew that surrounds him. Habitually, his arms tighten around you, a content, oblivious sigh echoed off his lip. Relishing, your lips nip at the skin of his neck, half slumber absorbed movements laced with nothing, but pure affection as you bundle close to your love. His skin exudes the familiar scent of long forgotten cologne, and something so uniquely, exclusively John.

A scent that reminds you he’s here, along side you, where he’d always belong.

Without mere thought, your hands position to his chest, soothing small, rubbing comforting circles to the broad of his bare chest; John preferred to sleep with his shirt off.

Not that you’d lament; the heavy tattoos that litter his back are gorgeous, yet John often shies away from showing you their portrayal. On particularly good nights, sometimes, John will let you trace the delicate ink, allow you to fully absorb each dip, each sharp curve of the once penned art that paints to his back.

John’s back, in all its glory, all its beauty, is a story untold. The intrigue, the beauty, the basic seams that compose of this man you’d received the delight of calling all yours, is nothing less of a miracle.

John Wick is a miracle; his back carries a story,

that the spine of a book could never hold. His story lives within him, claws, cuts away at him.

He’s a miracle, to be what he is,

coming from where he does.

Apart from the rare look into the symphony that tells tale to his skin, often, John enjoys his skin so close to yours, shielded by no barrier. On particularly rough nights, or evenings where John needs nothing but you to melt the dread of the day behind, he finds asylum in your skin.

Skin to skin with John is one of your favourite ways to unwind; to forget. You’ll shelter in his arms, both your bodies bare, exposed, relishing within each other.

You don’t need sex in moments like that.

You solely need him,

And he only needs you.

All the curves of your frail body relax into the strength of his.

As your lips continue, drenching into his bruised skin; you sigh, airy and light. You sigh, marking his body with the nectar that flows off your lips, only for him.

A gentle mark to his neck, a softer one just below.

A softer kiss to his jaw, a softer, lighter one to his chest. Slow and steady, you delight in his body, pulling the callous of his form closer, nearer, sighing when he stirs so slight, the content smack of his lips assuring a relaxation he so desperately deserved. Slow; as flowers fall from your lips onto his skin, your gentle hands move composed, leisurely, smoothly down his chest, brushed delicately across the firm of his torso, the structure; the art of his abs,

Your fingers draw gentle circles and mindless shapes, playing his skin in a beautiful melody; John’s touch dances on your fingertips, his skin a song you’d memorized a lifetime ago;

Slowly, the soft pads of your hold brush over his clothed manhood, full, thrived, glorious in his cotton boxers. His shaft is firm against your wrist, the heaviness of his entirety thick against your fingers. With a cheeky smile, and warm grin his way, your face buries under the dip of his neck, just under the abrasive stubble of his chin, your lips peppering sincere, love baked kisses to his drowsy figure, two fingers of your inquisitive hand dipping into the waistband of the fabric that holds his cock, full.

John’s cock is one of your absolute favourite treats.

His girth,

His heaviness,

His weight, his taste, that throbbed vein that runs like a lightening bolt up his overwhelming length, the rich shade of pink his tip becomes when erect for you; John’s cock is a luxury in its own right.

Gently, your fingers intrude into his boxers, skin brushed past the full bush of dark hair that surrounds his member. John keeps himself tame, groomed to a tolerable trim down under just for you. Before you, John didn’t care much. Now, however, he prefers to keep himself presentable, just for you.

As the soft pads of your lotion silken fingers greet his bulge in a tender brush, shockwaves pierce inside you, the sheer feel of his cock wrapped in your hand causes a tender ache between your legs.

Butterflies float inside,

Nerves twist inside your core, the familiar bite of anticipation, of need.

Your body sears for him, pleads for him to wake up and make love to you. Yearns for his cock to make home within you, thoughts hazed in a crisp desire for him to fuck you the way he so expertly does.

Yet; you hold. You tenderly, warmly, delicately begin to stroke his shaft, making sure to swirl his tip with your thumb, feeling the thin skin of his member melt through your grip.

John deserves to feel good, deserves to feel love kiss him, graze him in the most tender of ways. John deserves for relief to wash over him; to kiss any worries that clog his weary mind away.

Stroking firmer, harder, faster, his arousal jerks in your satin grip, in a ballet fumed through your affectionate pry, lovebites and wet kisses still mottling to his collarbone. John’s cock throbs, aches, pulses in your hand, his sleeping frame slowly, barely waking in the midst of your morning favour.

Gently, you massage his heavy balls, tenderly stroking them, paying well attention to each inch, each curve, each dip of his magnificent manhood. John stirs, eyes fluttering awake through a quiet moan dripping off his tongue; eyes still shut as soft, gentle groans coil in his throat, and his palms find the small of your back, holding on dearly. The warmness of your kisses on his jaw welcome him awake; each inch of him envelopes in love, in a sea of all feelings good; all feelings free.

Velvet and rich, his moans melt in your ears, the sound of his tender baritone quietly, softly whimpering for you a song you’d memorize till’ the end of time. You continue, stroking his cock, faster, and faster, and faster, twisting, pumping, slicking the smear of dewy pre cum slipping out his head.

“Fu…fuck…” John moans, heavy palms finding your waist as they hold your hips tight, fingers sinking into the soft flesh. “Fuck, sweetheart, it feels…” The words die in his throat, cut through a louder, gravellier groan, a groan that moistens the insides of your glossy arousal building for him.

“Feel good, baby?” You wonder, painting yet another delicate, mauve bruise into the skin of his chest.

“So good, don’t stop.” He requests, through broken breathes and weary gasps. “I’m gonna cum,” John warns, his own hand trickling into his boxers to massage his balls simultaneously, while you work wonders to his swollen shaft. With a few more particularly tight, sloppy pumps, John’s hold on you tightens, sweet, dripping praises of your name fleeing his lips as his cock burst, spurts of creamy, warm release coating the grip of your palm.

He feels silky, wet and sticky in your touch, and you grin a warm kiss his way, watching the beauty of his dark features relish in aftershocks, riding the waves of delicious release as you softly, slowly pump him limp. Pulling your body closer, John’s snuggles further into your hold, sighing against your skin; his cock still bundled in your tender grip. “Good morning, handsome.” You giggle, feel of his laboured breaths hot against your skin, as he peppers a soft kiss to your breast. Smoothing over your hips, his deep baritone sighs a fond exhale, heavy hands smoothing over your peachy ass.

“Good morning it is,” He smiles into the valley of your breasts, his hands trailing suggestively into the hem of your shirt. Kissing, peppering affection to the swell of your chest, John chuckles, his own palm moving to brush over your drenched, needy pussy.

“Darling,” He whispers, larger frame shifting to hover over you, grinning with his mouth travelling to the silky dip of your neck, where his tongue dances over soft flesh. “You have to let me return the favour.” Quietly, his tone sends vibrant want spark inside, breath hitching to the way his study fingers rub against your bare slit, lapping, smearing the sap that drips just for him.

“When,” He whispers into your skin, praising, returning stolen kisses. “Did I,” a gentler kiss to your collarbone, as he trails lower, peeling off whatever fabric shields the haven of your body from his wanting gaze. “Get so, lucky?”

And to the sound of your soft giggle, his eyes lock with yours as his face positions just above your hips, bulky fingers stripping your pajama bottoms down. His lips work tender kisses to the insides of your thighs, loving hands grazing over the soft skin as he whispers, taking hold of your hand, ready to return the morning affection.

“You’ll be the death of me, Mrs. Wick.”

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

My taglist will be posted in reblogs, let me know if you want to be added or removed! :)

#john wick x reader #keanu reeves x reader #john wick fanfiction #john wick imagine #john wick x y/n

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weyheyjxlya · 4 years

Text

Ａｌｉｖｅ

*•.¸♡ pairing: sugawara koushi x reader

*•.¸♡ genre: nsfw || smut (this is my first time writing one, gomen)

*•.¸♡ prompt : Mirror fuck

*•.¸♡ warning: gay!sugawara au, fingering, handjob, praising?, soft dom!suga? (I’m kinda not good with warnings sorry)

*•.¸♡ a/n : so this is my first server collab from the first server where I’ve met various kinds of people who supported and sparked my inner frustrated writer within. so yeah! I hope this won’t be the last one writing nsfw because geesh it fucked my brains out so ya, I didn’t get to upload my chapter 06.2 because I crammed with this. so I hope you enjoy this babies! ilysm!! also listen to the music indicated while reading it, okay? THAANK YOU!!

“My love, I’m so afraid for things to change My love, Guess i’m too carried away”

“I guess it is not a dream, yeah?” he asked doubtedly while cuddling you “Yeah, it isn’t kou,” you replied as you’re slowly drifting away from exhaustion. Slowly.. slowly.. slowly… “I really hope this isn’t fantasy. If this what I get for being alive? Then I want it. You are life y/n.” he confessed while caressing your face with the back of his hand as he momentarily appreciates your lovely existence.

“Why am I still alive Kou-chaaaannn??!?” you whined as you shook Sugawara’s hands when you grabbed it out of frustration from your cheating boyfriend that just broke up with you. “You know Y/N-chan, there’s like plenty of fishes in the sea!! Why not search for someone right at this moment and time? I cam even suggest one from the volleyball club! Not Daichi though, he’s mine!!” he protested excitedly.

Back from your first-year senior high school days, you’ve met this light-gray-haired guy with an average height and a slender build. But what attracted you the most is that wonderful mole just below his left eye. It’s so beautiful. It brought out the best of his majestic face like some kind of an accessory that matches the one who wears it perfectly. This guy is such a work of art. You’ve felt your heartbeat continue for like a while when he greeted you charismatically. Showing to you that extraordinary smile, you’ve felt captivated. Damn, this man is so fine “Uhm hi!! I’m Sugawara Koushi. How about you?” he asked “Oh yeah, I’m L/N Y/N! N-nice to m-meet you,” you replied “Nice to meet you also Y/N-chan. I’ve noticed that you’ve been looking at me for a while. Uhm, this is kinda embarrassing but I am gay,” “Oh wow, omg thank you for saying that to me. And yeah, no judgment involved but there’s one thing certain right now,” you cooed “Hmm, what is it? You’re acting kinda weird haha” Sugawara replied nervously “Let’s be friends Koushi!” you’ve suggested “That’s kind of quick but yeah, fine!” he acknowledged ~~ From high school until college, both of you are always together. Both of you are frequently called out as a couple at first but will feel embarrassed when they got to know who Sugawa is. Months and years passed, you only just thought Sugawara as your best friend. You’ve tried your best to bore in into your mind but your heart always betrayed you. You still like Sugawara all along and you fell hard for him. Hence, you’ve tried your best to suppress it. So you’ve got yourself into various relationships, that in the end, it just ends in like a flick of a hand. It’s easy, momentarily, pretend, and temporary. You just can’t get Sugawara out of your heart. It even got to the point where you’re imagining Sugawara as your own partner in life and love –also in bed because everything just felt so empty. You can’t get him out of your heart. Then finally, you’ve met some guy which helped you got into a relationship seriously.

“Am I too ugly? Do I lack anything? Why did I got cheated on Kou-chan?” you sobbed again despite the moisturizer that Sugawara applied on your face to prep you from glamor. You’ve been adoring yourself for a while now and you’re wearing a deep red silk robe that has done its job perfectly. Hugging your beautiful curves, complimenting your beautiful skin, and made you feel things again that you’ve forgotten for quite a long time. Dreamy as it is but you’ve been wondering. You’ve done everything you can but still, why have you been cheated on? “Y/N-chan, come on. You’re more than that, we both know it. I won’t be sticking with you up until now (even though we barely meet for a while recently since your boyfriend gets jealous because of me) if you don’t have that beaut,” Sugawara comforted with tease while smoothing out your dress for your night out after your boyfriend cheated on you “Gosh, the pain and pleasure that I got every night because of his jealousy over you. I might die the day after,” you protested jokingly while drying off your tears with tissue from the vanity mirror because you’ve wasted quite an amount of expensive moisturizer that had been put on your face because of some tears that fell over for some garbage kind of a guy. Suddenly, Sugawara stopped with what he’s doing when he heard your sudden confession then he walked over you, poker-faced at the edge of the bed to join you to face the mirror. “Come on dear, now close your eyes and let me finish up that art that I’ll create upon this beautiful face of yours,” Sugawara offered with a sudden change of his face, from straight face to a now charming smile as he scooted over you and started reapplying a small amount of that expensive moisturizer again to coat all the spaces that have the moisturizer erased. The application this time is quite relaxing. Suga’s gentle hands have been stroking it ever so gently for a while. Then suddenly, he stopped. As a response to your curiosity, you slowly opened your eyes. Without warning, Sugawara’s lips are planted upon yours. Due to your own shock, you’ve tried to pull yourself from him but he didn’t let it happen. He gently bent your head slightly to the back and then held your face like it’s the most fragile thing that he has ever held on and continued placing kisses in various places. Before you could protest, you’re now drunk from the euphoria that Sugawara gave you. With hearts thumping loud, mind becoming black, and your own body becoming numb and now giving into his kisses, you’ve wanted this for so long and it’s happening now. So without thinking, you drew your arms around his neck and you’ve felt his flirtatious grin drawn in his lips. He guided your head to the side then he continued kissing until he insistently licked your lips as permission to part your trembling lips. Without a moment’s hesitation, you gave in to him completely. You dropped all your guards down as this is the moment that you’ve been longing for. That sweet, gentle, and addicting kiss of his made you forget all types of kisses that you’ve experienced before. It was experienced and mature. But then you’ve felt sad and Sugawara felt the sudden emotion because that you’ve become unresponsive to his kiss. “Why sugar?” he asked as he momentarily pulled back from the kiss “You’re really experienced with this and those experiences aren’t with me,” you pouted as tears fell upon your cheeks “Shush sugar. If it’s not for those experiences, I wouldn’t be this great for you, right? This is a new case for me but this sensation that I’m feeling right now cannot compare to anything. You make me feel things Y/N and I love you so much that it hurts,” he replied while wiping your tears with the back of his hands. “Come here sugar,” he sweetly called as he patted his lap and he held out his hands and you took it. Swiftly, as you sat on his lap he immediately pulled you into a tight hug and nuzzled the crook of your head like it’s the last time that he’ll see you. “Finally, you’re here now,” he murmured as he immediately pulled your face and started kissing you. It’s gentle but demanding. The kiss made you feel completely melted as every inch of your body dissolves into his. The fuzzy feeling made you wrap your shoulders around his neck, grip into his hair, and pulled him closer. You’ve never felt like this before. Hungry as it is but you’ve never wanted anyone like this ever. As this moment continues, both of you are now completely peeling off the label “friends” in between you and both of you know it so well. This is the beginning of something. Breaths may stop you for a short moment but it never became a hindrance as both of you are passionately showing how needy you are with each other. As the kiss continued, Sugawara realized how long he had been holding back from this passionate desire to be yours completely. How perplexed he is at night when he realizes that he fell for such an idiotic straight best friend of his. How jealous he is every time you get into another relationship. How irritated he can sense how much of an asshole since he is a man a swell. How sad he is when you’re not by his side because you’re with someone. He wanted you all along but he suppressed it just to keep you from the awkwardness and from leaving him. Now that the moment’s here, he’s now thanking the heavens as this moment has been taking the man out of him. Now he’s praying that they keep him from where the light is because he might lose himself from this moment. Slowly, Sugawara pushed you backward, without breaking the kiss he laid you flat against the bed. On your peripheral vision, you witness how you’re deliciously making out in the mirror but you don’t care. You don’t care because it has been years since you’ve been longing for this. Even after those stupid relationships, it is still him. Sugawara Koushi is the only thing that you want for. The feeling of his weight upon yours sent signals all throughout your system because the feeling is phenomenal. You get to take in his sweet kind of cinnamon and a little hint of clean linen smell that lingers his body –this kind smell of his has sent you wanting his body more. His hands are now exploring everywhere and it doesn’t matter. He starts planting kisses upon your jaw down to your neck when he starts searching for the sash of your robe. When he got a hold of it he suddenly pulled back and stared at you with his charming puppy eyes and without hesitation, you nodded which left an angelic grin upon his face. He lets go and placed the robe sash on a spot where he can find it then he cupped your face again to passionately kiss it again and the other hand travels with delicious, teasing, and slow speed down from your neck, collar, breasts, and hips as he finally reached the robe sash again that sent shivers down your spine. When he finally released the bow from being tied, he gently helped you get free from the garment. As he finally got you out of it and the robe not within your sight, he sat upright then he deliciously registered your naked body with a burning gaze that consumes you in no time. “I could look at this all throughout my life sugar. You’re extraordinary and I love you so much,” he praised when he lifted his shirt over his head and undoes his pants with his underwear and throws it off from the bed. Having the image of the naked Sugawara in front of you is heavenly that it awakened your inner woman twerking its ass off from the happiness that it’s experiencing right now. He is beyond beautiful. Charming in his own ways. Angelic but it looked like the one who’s gonna cut our wings with and escape. Sugawara really looked like a man that came out of your dreams. Suddenly, your mouth became dry when you saw his growing member that made you gasp for some air. Seeing this reaction seeping out of you Sugawara chuckled and he excitedly hovered over you again. Sugawara strokes your face with the back of his hands and obviously, his touch resonates in the depth of your groin. Bending over, Sugawara slowly kissed your lips and started his slow torture. Starting from your neck down to your breast he started trailing kisses, nuzzling, then sucking hard that left its trails with love bruises. Every kiss made your nipples peak and harden as it starts off the fire of your desire. When Sugawara saw, he put on his devilish grin and has now started sucking your nipple from the left breast while deliciously playing with his hand on the other that left you panting and grabbing his hair because you’re now selfishly wanting for more. “Koushi, please,” you begged “So eager huh, okay sugar,” he responded and suddenly his tongue is suddenly inside your mouth then he started again with his travel starting from your breasts, across your stomach, and down to your navel. He sits up again with eyes brimming with joy as he wondered over the art that he made across your beautiful body. Feeling proud because he’s the creator of it. Out of joy, he bent down again and starts shifting lower until he reached your clitoris. You cried out by this traveling of his then you suddenly felt all of your nerves when his incredible tongue worked its way on your cunt so much that it left you a whining mess. “Calm down sugar,” he mumbled when he deliciously continued his business with your cunt and suddenly he slipped one finger which left you breathless and gasping for air. Then he slipped one more and this leads you to the edge as he started moving it in and out with agonizing slowness. The stimulation you’re experiencing was extravagant due to the mere fact that you’re doing it with the subject of your suppressed love. “Hmmm, this is definitely new for me, sugar and I’m loving it. Most specifically this,” he murmured when he starts stroking your spongy walls then he continues with relentlessly licking and sucking your clit which made your mind get blown by the stimulation and sensation that Sugawara gives you. After a few pumps, you have reached your first mind-blowing orgasms which left your sense go numb and your body go limp. Due to your sudden burst and to your mind-blowing high you instantaneously thought of Sugawara. So all of a sudden you sat up then pushed him back and you grabbed his member and started palming him which then he let out a loud groan and started looking upon you with a hooded and full of desire gaze which left you excitingly and slowly pumping him until he reached his own orgasm that he had been holding back for a while now. “Well that’s kind of embarrassing, I’ve been holding that back for a while now. Oh well, patience sugar. This will soon fill you up,” he replied and winked as he reached for the condom which is in one of the drawers of his vanity mirror. He planted a kiss on your lips first then he laid you again on the bed then started hovering over you again, he slipped on a condom, and then without asking for permission, he’s inside you, slow at first but builds up its pace until it’s hard and fast. Groans, moans, and lewd sounds of your bodies clashing have filled the room which leads you both nearing your own orgasms but to your dismay, on the spur of the moment, Sugawara pulled out of you and flips you over. When you took your time to flip over because your body’s been limp and all, he suddenly pulled you upright so that you’re practically sitting on him. But what made heat haunted your ears and face more, it’s that you’re now facing the mirror that has its lights on. He scooted the both of you a little to the side and now you can brightly see how your cunt sucking in his dick nearly balls deep. “Kou this is kinda embarrassing,” you mewled as you held your face due to your obvious embarrassment. “Then enjoy it sugar,” he replied with amusement. Splendidly, his hands moved up to your breasts, palms it, and tugging gently on your nipples which made your groan for more and tossing your head back against his shoulders. He starts biting downs your neck when he splendidly flexes his hips, filling you up slowly again and again. “You mean the world to me sugar. I’ve realized how empty I am when you’re gone so I never want to let you go now” he breathes against your ear “Yes and neither do I Koushi,” you gasped as he starts slamming to you again to your mewl over his name. This never felt so good he thought. As he was slamming you so hard your moans and cries are now echoing the whole room. “That’s right sugar, let me hear you,” he whispered as he snakes one hand on your waist and another on your hip. Firmly that you know it’ll leave some mark after then he pushes into you harder and harder. With your breaths growing harsher and harsher, ragged, tired, and with gritted teeth both of you found your release together. After catching up some air, both of you collapsed on the bed together and you are now curled up on the bed with his front pressed on your back, his nose on your hair. “What I’m feeling right now frightens me Koushi,” you trembled “Me too Y/N. Everything’s so new to me,” he says quietly “I know, so what if this is just on a whim then you’ll leave me,” you choked as the thought is horrific. “It won’t happen and I won’t go somewhere sugar. I love you so much,” So to confirm the answer you turned your back to gaze at him and he’s now showing a serious and sincere face and it made your heart flutter. You leaned over and kissed him gently and he smiled and reaches up to tuck your hair behind your ear which calmed down your heart more. “I’ve never ever felt this amazing sugar and you made it happen. My heart cannot settle itself right now because you’re here in my arms now. I would do everything just to feel this way and to not lose you anymore Y/N. You have my whole heart, I promise.” he promised as you kiss him again and it planted a smile on your lips “So this is not a dream, yeah?” he asked doubtedly while cuddling you “Yeah, it isn’t kou,” you replied as you’re slowly drifting away from exhaustion. Slowly.. slowly.. slowly… “I really hope this isn’t fantasy. If this what I get for being alive? Then I want it. You are life y/n.” he confessed while caressing your face with the back of his hand as he momentarily appreciates your lovely existence. “I promise, even to death. I’ll love you forever Y/N,” he added as he also drifts away to sleep

*•.¸♡ gen. taglist ♡¸.•* here ya go @maviiiiic

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pasteljeon · 5 years

Text

Peppermint Mocha (m)

Summary: A week in the college life with seven boyfriends.

Pairing: Namjoon/Reader, Jin/Reader, Yoongi/Reader, Hoseok/Reader, Jimin/Reader, Taehyung/Reader, Jungkook/Reader

Warnings: fluff fest, you are advised to visit the dentist following consumption, sub!jungkook, sub!jimin, sub!taehyung, switch!hobi, sub!namjoon (ish), sub!jin, sub!yoongi, handjobs, cock rings, vibrators (anal), oral (male), dry humping, multiple orgasms

Length: 4.9k

Notes: WHEW i finally finished shdsskd i’m never using google docs ever again, formatting never saves and i had to manually fix the spacing and italicizing i’m scarred for life. i hope this lives up to expectations and i’m sorry it took so long but now i’m gonna disappear for a bit to do midterms lmao lmk what you think!!

College!AU - Film major!Jin (Master’s), photography major!Tae, graphic design & photography double major!JK, philosophy & history double major!Joon, performing dance major!Hobi, contemporary dance major!Jimin, music composition major!Yoongi, unspecified major!reader

Monday, 8:01 AM

“Baby.” A small moan escaped your throat as you snuggled in closer, chasing the warmth that tugged at you.

“Baby, you need to wake up.” Gentle fingers brushed at your cheeks and you nuzzled into the touch as palms cupped your face. “Baby.” Amusement laced his tone, and you knew he was smiling down at you.

Peeking through one eye, lips pouting as you lifted one finger to poke into those infuriatingly gorgeous dimples, Namjoon grinned. “Time for class, baby girl.”

Groaning, you let yourself drop back onto the mattress, watching as he stood. He was already fully dressed for the day, with dark washed jeans, a fitted black turtleneck, silver wristwatch and thin framed lenses that perched on his nose. You melted a bit when he leaned in to press a kiss against your temple. The man looked like he’d stepped out of a fall edition magazine. “Coffee’s on the table, see you at 2.” Namjoon grabbed his keys from the nightstand, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder as he made his forever timely morning exit.

“Namjoonie-hyung gone?” You hummed in response as you slipped from the bed, dropping a quick kiss to Jimin’s cheek as you made your way to the bathroom. “Where’s Kook?”

“Still sleeping,” he replied, trailing after you. You relaxed into his hold as you brushed your teeth, him resting his chin on the grove of your shoulder, arms wrapped snugly around your stomach. Moving through the remainder of your skin care routine, Mondays were always a little more bearable with Jimin playfully swiping cream onto your nose, running a brush gently through your hair as you washed your face.

“Remember to drink lots of water, Minnie,” you said as you smoothed back the fabric of his sweater. He kissed you softly, fingers tangling in your locks briefly before he let go, smiling. “See you tonight, jagiya.”

8:15 AM

The mattress dipped lightly as you stroked his cheek, biting back a grin at the plankboard position he liked sleeping in when he was alone. His nose scrunched as you nudged him, letting out a grunt as he turned his head.

“Kookie, it’s time to wake up,” you sang quietly, one hand slipping beneath his covers and running down the length of his bare chest, enjoying the ridges as you squeezed him gently.

He let out a choked gasp, eyes fluttering open instantly as he squirmed. Sleepy cocoa-coloured irises peered at you petulantly. “___ - ” He fell back with a strangled moan, voice thick with lethargy as you stroked him slowly.

“Morning, baby,” you cooed. His cock was heavy and throbbing, precum soaking the front of his boxer briefs as you thumbed his head. Yoongi often remarked at how much joy you took in watching the beautiful man fall to pieces so early in the morning, doe eyes watering as they begged you silently for release.

“___,” Jungkook whimpered, unable to resist thrusting into your touch as you twisted your wrist, your name escaping in a pained whisper. Wicked, his gaze murmured reverently.

“You know you love it,” you whispered, breath warm as you kissed along the curve of his neck.

“I love you,” he moaned, hips jerking as you milked him. You gave him one last squeeze, smirking as he blinked up at you hopefully, cock softening and twitching in overstimulation.

“Maybe later,” you promised, retracting your hand and wiping yourself down. Jungkook looked disappointed but nodded, sitting up. Cringing at the stickiness that stained his abdomen, he kicked off the blankets, yawning as he stretched.

“Join me for a shower?” He peeked at you coyly. You laughed, following him to the bathroom as he stripped down and waited for the water to warm. Washing your hands quickly, you leaned up to kiss his cheek.

“Tonight. I’m already ready. Hobi dropped off some muffins. Want one?” You called over your shoulder.

“Is there any banana milk left?” Jungkook poked his head from the curtains, eyes wide with anticipation.

He ducked back down at your giggled response, grinning happily to himself as he reached for the shampoo.

8:20 AM

“What time will you guys be back today?” Jin asked as you zipped up your boots.

“5:30 ish,” Jungkook answered, propping the door open as he waited for you patiently. Shrugging on a jacket, you hugged the film major tightly.

“I’m cooking tonight. Bring back some glass noodles on your way back?” You pressed a kiss against Jin’s jaw. “Will do, babe.”

8:30 AM

“Another day, another one bites the dust.” You looked up, chewing on a chocolate danish, to see Ahri staring longingly at where a familiar mop of dark hair chatting in the line.

“What?” You said, swallowing. Your friend pointed at you accusingly. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. Seven of the most gorgeous guys to have probably walked this damn earth and they’re all devoted to a single girl. Unbelievable. And you’re just as oblivious as ever. The source of all envy.”

You blinked. “You mean Jungkook?”

The cafe bustled with motion, early as it was, and you finished off your snack as you watched the man in question chatter with two females you recognized from his photography class. Propping your chin up, you gazed at him fondly. “He is quite handsome, isn’t he?”

“You -” She groaned. “I can’t believe you.”

“Hey,” he reached up to thumb the corner of your mouth, wiping at the smear of chocolate, eyes crinkling as he smiled. He took the seat next to you, sliding a cup of jasmine tea across the table. “Thank you.”

“Careful, it’s hot,” he warned, though too late as you cringed back, pouting instantly. “Damn.”

Jungkook huffed a laugh, dabbing at your chin with some tissues before helping you clean up the table.

“You lucky girl,” Ahri sighed, shaking her head as she swept off to Stats.

Jungkook jogged along to catch up as he took his camera from you and slung it over his neck. “What was she saying?”

“Just the truth,” you replied, smiling as he shot you an adorably confused look, settling in the third row.

10:20 AM

It started drizzling halfway through the lecture and Jungkook insisted on swathing you in his triply oversized hoodie before kissing your cheek and parting ways at the Arts Building to his digital media course.

You waited in the atrium, sipping your now cold jasmine tea while scrolling through Tumblr, bag resting at your feet.

“Baby~” Warm arms cradled your body as you turned to see Taehyung’s familiar boxy grin.

“Hi Tae,” you said as you restrapped your bag. “How was Bogum today?” His digital editing professor was notoriously picky but everyone knew he had a soft spot for the outgoing and charismatic blond.

“Great!” Taehyung beamed. The two of you made your way to your shared class leisurely, his arm slipping around your waist as he held you close, matching your smaller strides despite his obvious height advantage. “I think he’s really going to like my next collection.”

“It’s looking fantastic already,” you hummed as you climbed the staircase. His voice was lilting as he teased, “That’s because you’re biased, jagiya.”

“Oh, Tae,” you said, peering up at him. His breath caught in his throat as he stumbled on a step, too fixated on the way your lashes framed your gorgeous russet orbs, the affection glowing in them had him reeling back. “He’s going to love it. I think it’ll surprise him a bit, but it’s so abstract and so you. Your collection embodies so much of who you are and how you see the world. How can anyone dislike something as pure as that?”

“___!” Taehyung blurted, clutching his chest. “Fuck, you can’t just do that! I wasn’t ready!”

You laughed aloud, hugging him hard as the students crossing you gave you a knowing smile. You waved back at them shyly. You’d forgotten how popular your boys were on campus, and how well known you all were.

“I love you, you know that?” He murmured, and suddenly his eyes were hooded and dark as he stared down at you, tongue coming out to swipe at his lower lip. You flushed, burying your face in his chest as his long fingers curled around your waist.

“Stop, Tae,” you whined, voice muffled. Taehyung grinned, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Just teasing, baby. Though you know I’d love nothing more than to drop everything and fuck you senseless right here and now.”

You squirmed, even as you said breathlessly, “Bet you wouldn’t.” Taehyung had a streak of exhibitionism in him, evident in the countless times he’d taken you against the wall with all the boys hungrily drinking in the two of you, or at parties where he’d fingered you beneath the table, or that one time you’d ridden him in full view of the bar.

“I wish I could,” he admitted, drawing back slightly to ease the heat. His hand moved to rest at a more appropriate height as you resumed your walk. “But the lecture’s about to start and you know how anal Jimin and Namjoon-hyung will get if we missed it again.”

“That was all your fault,” you harrumphed. Taehyung pushed open the double doors and watched with a grin as you busied yourself with unpacking your notebook and printed slides. “You loved it, baby. Don’t lie.”

You shrugged. “I did, actually.”

12:20 PM

“What do you want to do for lunch today, baby? 8Island?” Hoseok pushed back his sweaty fringe, still patting himself down with a towel as he smiled up at from where you lounged on one of the black stage props set at the corner of the studio.

“What are you in the mood for?” You countered, popping another gushers from the packet you stole from Taehyung earlier. Wandering over, you fed the dancer one as he gave himself a quick shake, grinning when you recoiled from the stray droplets splashing onto your clothes.

“Hobi!” You complained. Hoseok laughed, catching your wrist as you shoved at his chest playfully. He dipped his head to kiss you slowly, his tongue ran over the seam of your lips lazily.

Just as his fingers trailed to grip the hem of your sweater, his stomach growled loudly.

“Fuck,” Hoseok groaned, releasing you reluctantly as his head fell to the crook of your shoulder in defeat. “Okay, yeah, food first.”

Triumphantly, you happily relinquished the last of your gushers to the disgruntled male as you rummaged in your bag for a hair tie.

Hoseok leaned against you, body lax as you ran a hand through his damp locks, combing gently before tying them a messy man bun.

“Let’s go to the cafe,” you said, helping him up. “I have to finish my essay.”

5:40 PM

“Welcome back, baby.” You dropped a kiss onto the film major’s offered cheek as you breezed past the open kitchen and collapsed onto the couch, your bag dropping like a tonne of bricks at the side.

“How was your day?” Wrestling yourself from Jungkook’s hoodie, you padded over to the laundry room to toss it in the basket before wriggling into a clean black pullover. It drifted mid-thigh and you smiled to yourself as you buried your face into the fabric, the faint lingering scent of Invictus, Yoongi’s favourite cologne, had you sighing happily.

“It was good,” you said finally as you climbed back onto the couch. “Profs went through practice midterms and I finished the first draft of my marketing proposal. Oh! And Tae wants you to take another look at his project and do another critique when he gets back today.”

Jin let out an audible groan at that, straightening from where he’d been searching for the bottle of soy sauce that seemed to have mysteriously vanished. “Not again. That boy is way too worried. How many times do we have to tell him it looks great before he stops biting his teeth and just hands the thing in?”

You tiptoed over to swipe a taste of the sauce he was mixing. “He just needs a little more confidence. Give it to him, will you baby?” Jin caught your waist as you tried to slip by, nipping at your fingers, his smile growing at the way your beautiful laughter rung in the space.

“Of course.” He peppered tiny kisses down the curve of your neck, biting down softly - not enough to sustain any real break in skin but enough to send you squirming away.

“How’s your thesis coming along?” You asked as you returned to your seat. Propping open your laptop and tearing open a new box of cookies from Jungkook’s (not-so-secret) snack stash. You’d cracked his code early on and would wheedle any of your lovers nearby with your infamous puppy dog eyes to fetch them from the very top cabinet the male put them in.

Not even Jungkook himself could resist your charms, often resigning himself to some silent grumbling and a pout that was easily solved when you kissed him with that beam of yours.

“It’s … coming along,” Jin answered with a sigh. “Looks like I’m going to have to ask Joon for some more ideas soon.”

“I’m home.” A familiar voice, edged with exhaustion and hint of crankiness, had you bounding to the door to meet Yoongi who was shaking out his mint-coloured locks from the rain-filled trek.

“Jagi,” he said, smiling tiredly. You slid your arms around him from where he’d unzipped his jacket, nuzzling his chest. The composition major shrugged off his coat carelessly, hanging it up to dry quickly before re-wrapping himself around you, a soft exhale whispering through your hair as he reveled in your warmth.

“Long day?” You asked.

“It’s always a long day without you baby,” Yoongi murmured. His lips twitched knowingly when you whined. It wasn’t often that he was this cheesy, but he had to admit he took great delight the way you’d flush every time.

“Wanna take a nap,” he said absently. “Join me?”

“Two hours max!” Jin warned from where he was preparing his ingredients for the night.

“Noodles are in the plastic bag next to my laptop!” You called as Yoongi tugged you into his room. As he drew the curtains, you exchanged his hoodie for a shirt, clambering onto the bed and crawling beneath the sheets.

His leg slipped between yours as he curled into you. You kissed his temple, smoothing over his tresses until his breathing evened out.

“Sweet dreams, baby.”

9 PM

The room was silent when you woke, darkness pressing on all sides as you rubbed your eyes.

You startled when you turned your head to see Yoongi’s dark-coloured orbs luminous in stray moonlight, watching you. He was propped up on one arm, his other resting at your hip.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” You whispered, yawning.

“You looked so peaceful,” he said softly, reaching up to tuck a stray tendril behind your ear. “Besides, hyung checked in and said they can wait another ten minutes.”

“How’re you feeling?” Your fingers twined with his, and he smiled, kissing your knuckles. “Better. A bit refreshed.”

“I’m glad,” you said drowsily. Yoongi couldn’t resist. You looked so adorable, still half-asleep, and he rolled on top of you, arms bracketing your face as he leaned down to kiss you. His lips were gentle, chapped but warm as he made out with you languidly.

I love you, he wanted to say, but his voice caught in his throat. You reached up, thumbing his cheekbones, and when he turned to nuzzle your palm with that conflicted look of his, you raised your head up to kiss him again, pressing yourself close against his heat as his arms came around to hold you fast. I know, your breath ghosted across his ear and he shuddered, pinning you down once more.

His chest rose and fell quickly and his heart seized. “I’m - you -” He struggled to speak, but you pulled him down until your lashes tickled his, and you said nothing as your lips moved to meet his forehead. Instead, his elbows collapsed and he crashed into you, head sinking to the crook of your shoulder, and you cradled him until he could breathe again.

Tuesday

9:20 AM

[09:21] ___💍: hi

[09:23] ___💍: i wanna suck your dick

Shit, his pants tightened instantly, and Jungkook shut his eyes briefly.

[09:24] baby bun 🐰: noona please, i’m in class!!

His fingers clenched, and he shifted awkwardly in his seat. The girl next to him - he’d already forgotten her name, they change on such a regular basis he didn’t even bother anymore, not that he cared enough to begin with - leaned over and whispered, “Hey, are you okay?”

“Uh - y-yeah,” Jungkook said weakly, edging away as he readjusted his laptop from where it rested on his thighs. He flipped his phone down, away from the girl’s sharply curious eyes, and tried to refocus back to the lecture.

[09:26] ___💍: bet you’d taste fucking delicious

[09:26] baby bun 🐰: noona, please!! don’t do this, i have a presentation next class and i don’t have extra pants!!

[09:27] ___💍: meet me at 1c12, rye hall

Jungkook swallowed thickly, fingers trembling as he typed his response.

[09:28] baby bun 🐰: okay

12:05 PM

“Well, someone looks like they had a good time,” Taehyung singsonged as Jungkook stumbled out of the room, knees weak and wobbly, expression dazed as he held the door frame to steady himself.

You followed, lips swollen, a satisfied smile playing on them as you stood on your tippy toes, leaning in to whisper something that had the arts major sucking in a breath as his eyes widened. Your hand squeezed his shoulder briefly before you nudged him.

The two of you watched with amusement as Jungkook dragged himself toward his lab, nearly smashing into a pillar on the way.

“I want a turn,” Taehyung said suddenly, amber orbs gleaming as he pulled you close. “Or, better yet, ride my face and I’ll make you cum ten times harder than you did him.”

“Cruel,” you said breathlessly as he shut the door behind him. He backed you onto the long lecture desks with dark eyes.

“And what you did to poor Kookie wasn’t?” Taehyung mocked. He gripped your waist, lifting you onto the table, and your ankles crossed behind his ass to push him flush to you.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you murmured against his lips.

“Then trust me baby,” he suckled purpled blooms against your collarbone, “This won’t be the last.”

3:40 PM

You admired the side profile of your lover, his newly dyed silver locks swept to the side, the way he pushed his glasses up, squinting at the board.

“Why do you keep looking at me, jagiya,” Jimin whined under his breath, cheeks ripening as he darted a shy glance at you.

“Do I need a reason to stare at my beautiful boyfriend?” You shot back playfully. He blushed, biting his lower lip as he bent down to scribble something into his notebook.

Your hand crept to your phone, and you hid your grin when Jimin jolted, doubling over with a gasp.

“Fuck,” he whimpered, and from your angle, you could see the considerable tent he was sporting in his tight jeans.

“Hands off, baby,” you drawled, looking bored as you noted down slides.

“Noona, noona, please,” Jimin pleaded brokenly, trying to keep his voice down. Luckily, on these days, you’d very strategically occupy a back corner where it was suitably secluded and far from prying eyes.

His hands balled at his thighs, nails digging into his skin as he moaned shakily.

“Colour?” You murmured. He mewled out a timid green, and his head promptly fell to the table, eyes rolling back as you tapped the highest setting. His skin prickled, electricity arcing through his spine and he writhed in his seat, hips stuttering as he came dry.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Jimin cried, fingers trembling as he reached for you. “Please, noona!”

“Shh, baby,” you soothed him, brushing away the tears that had pooled at the edges of his eyes, “You’ll get your reward tonight. You’re such a good boy, aren’t you? A good boy for noona?”

Jimin nodded eagerly, sniffling lightly. “Jiminie’s a good boy! Jiminie’s the best boy, isn’t he?”

“Of course,” you said, kissing his temple. “The very best.”

6:20 PM

“You just love to wreck them, don’t you?” Hoseok mused from where he sat, thighs wide apart as he leaned back into the chair.

“I love to wreck you too,” you reminded him mildly. Jimin laid beneath you, he looked utterly fucked out, lips bruised and plump from abuse, body littered with lilac galaxies, cum painting the sheets.

You sank down on him and he keened, voice high and weak as he climaxed, your name like a prayer.

“Not today, baby.” His tone was guttural, arm snaking around your bare torso as he yanked your head up to meet his smoldering gaze.

“Today, I’ll be the one wrecking you.”

Wednesday

10 AM

“Uh -” Namjoon stared at you blankly. His nose was red and dry, throat itching.

He sneezed.

“I think I’m sick.”

8 PM

His door creaked open, a sliver of light illuminating his pale face as he peeked out from the room.

“Jagiya,” he called out faintly. You perked up instantly, abandoning your station next to Jin, the eldest crying out in indignation as your consol jerking accidently shoved his vehicle off the rainbow bridge.

“Hey baby,” you cooed, running a hand through his locks, matted with sweat. Namjoon leaned into your cool palm, moaning tiredly at the brief respite.

“Jin made some soup,” you told him. “You should get some liquids in you. Why don’t you take a hot shower while I make something light for you to eat?”

Namjoon nodded, wordlessly following your suggestion as he ambled off toward the ensuite bathroom.

“How’s he doing?” Jimin popped up next to you, eyebrows wrinkled worriedly. He peered into the pitch-dark room, eyeing the rumpled blankets and mountain of tissues piled on the drawer next the bed.

“He’ll be okay with a few days of rest and plenty of water,” you reassured him. “Hobi, will you grab the thermometer? I want to check his temperature before giving him any medication.”

In the background, you heard Jin curse loudly before throwing his controller onto the couch.

“Okay,” he declared. “I’m done with this shit. Give me the thermostat, Hoseok. I’ll be the one nursing Joon, you incompetent fools!”

Both you and Jimin raised an eyebrow, looking at the eldest dryly.

Jin shrunk back slightly. “Ah - except for you, of course, baby! You’re the only other 10 here, everyone else is still an 8!”

A loud sneeze rung audibly from the showers, and the film major took advantage of the momentary distraction to scamper to the kitchens to check up on his soup.

Hoseok returned shortly after, blinking as he held up the transparent measuring tool. “So … who’s doing this again?”

You sighed, taking it from him. “I am.”

Thursday

4:20 PM

“One grande cinnamon mocha and a venti coffee black, please,” you said distractedly, fumbling for your card. Yoongi chuckled beside you, already tapping his credit. “I got it.”

Your phone buzzed in your pocket as the two of you moved to wait at the side.

“Hi baby,” his voice croaked. You smiled, mouthing Namjoon at Yoongi’s wordless head tilt. “Hi. How’re you feeling? Any better?”

There was some shuffling, and you could tell he moved the speaker to the side to blow his nose. “A bit,” he said when he returned. “I miss you. When are you going to be home tonight?”

Your insides warmed at his clinginess, the kind that would only really appear when he was sick. He was so cute. “I just finished my last class. I promised Yoongi I’d visit the studio today though, so I’ll be back in an hour max, okay? Remember to drink lots of warm water and rest as much as you can.”

“Okay,” Namjoon said obediently. You chatted a little longer as you told him of your day thus far, your phone squished between your shoulder and ear as you sipped your drink.

“You should go home,” Yoongi said casually. Though he seemed concentrated in his task of carefully placing the plastic lid onto his coffee, you knew he was disappointed by the way his shoulders dropped slightly.

“He’ll be okay,” you said amusedly. The mint-haired composer looked surprised as you slipped your hand into his. “C’mon, babe. I want to hear the new track you’re working on!”

Yoongi smiled down at your intertwined fingers, a tinge of pink scoring across his cheeks. “... Okay.”

9:10 PM

“Hey.” Your voice was soft as you settled onto the bed next to him. Namjoon peered up at you blearily, throat sticky. Almost like you could read his forlorn expression, you raised a cup to his lips. He drank greedily, the lemon-honey mix working nicely to soothe his scratchy throat.

He eased back onto his pillow, eyes growing heavy already. Your fingers were gentle as you ran a warm towel against his sweaty skin. Namjoon drifted off, breathing a bit easier as you laid a cooler towel on his forehead. You tucked his comforter beneath his chin, smiling fondly as you stroked his cheek.

“How is he?” Jin murmured as you toed off your slippers. He lifted the blanket, allowing you to slide in as you rested your head on his chest.

“A few more days, I think. Still has a bit of a fever,” you replied. He answered with a thoughtful hum. “I’ll pick up some more greens tomorrow, then. Nearly out.”

Jin glanced down at you when there was no answer, only to find you sleeping soundly, chest rising and falling rhymically. He laughed breathily and kissed the top of your head. “See you in my dreams, princess.”

Friday

7 PM

“H-heeey.” You leaned back, one hand swirling the amber liquid in a red solo cup as you smiled at the familiar blond that staggered his way to you. He was smashed, that much was clear. It was rare to see him in such a state, but you belatedly realized his project must’ve been weighing on his mind more than they’d originally assumed.

“Hello, Taehyung,” you said, playing along.

“Y-you’re so pretty,” he slurred. He was grinning at you lopsidedly. “Do you have a - a boyfriend?”

“I do, I’m sorry,” you giggled at the crestfallen look on his face.

“Oh,” he said, disappointment thick in his tone as he hung his head. “S-sorry to bother you, then …”

“You’re an idiot,” you bit back another laugh when he pouted. “W-what do you mean?”

“C’mon,” You set your drink aside and grabbed his hand.

7:30 PM

“T-this is w-wrong,” he moaned, stammering as he arched into you, struggling to resist the pleasure running through his veins. The alcohol had him dizzy, head spinning as his hips raised to meet every thrust.

His arms were tied to his back with your thin scarf and he swore he saw stars when he came, cum painting your walls hotly as you fucked him through his orgasm.

“I-if your boyfriend ever breaks up with you, please text me,” Taehyung said breathlessly when coherent thought returned. His golden locks were dishevelled, body gleaming with sweat, system rich with mind-numbing alcohol, and yet -

“You’ll be the first to know, baby,” you promised. He smiled, as if satisfied, and closed his eyes.

Saturday

5 PM

The muted sunbeams warmed your bare skin and you floated in and out of consciousness, faintly registering the arm that tightened around your waist, cheek pressed against a hard plane.

“Fuck,” a rumbling timbre voice murmured. His finger thumbed your lower lip, tracing your smile. “I really cheated on you with you, huh.”

“Yep,” you giggled, popping the p as you buried your head further into him.

“Fuck,” Taehyung sighed. “I really am an idiot.”

Sunday

3:21 PM

The movie ran in the background, colours flashing and dialogue drowned by the shuffling of clothes and the soft, slick sounds of tongues. You swallowed Jin’s soft moan as you ground into him. His cock brushed against your clothed clit and his fingers pressed hard into your curves, hips canting as he desperately searched for friction.

“Need - need more,” Jin panted. “Fuck!” His hoarse shout had you clenching on nothing as he came, shuddering in oversensitivity as the fabric of his sweats caught at the tip of his softening length.

Jin kissed you tiredly. “I love you. Fuck, I love you so much.”

10 PM

Fingers stroked your forearm, limbs tangled with yours, lips pressed against your skin.

“Good night, baby.”

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