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linkspooky · 7 months

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Are You Satisfied?

As you might have heard chapter 236 of Jujutsu Kaisen ends with the death of Gojo Satoru. The fandom is making a pretty big deal about it. As someone who predicted from the beginning that Gojo was going to lose against Sukuna, the reaction is fascinating to me. This is perhaps the most controversial chapter of Jujutsu Kaisen I've ever seen. So I've decided to throw my hat into the ring.

The central theme of Jujutsu Kaisen is death, so the death of one of the main characters isn't too surprising, but what does Gojo's death mean for the story? What does it say about his character?

As I said above I am a little bit shocked by the extreme controversy over Gojo's death. Gojo was never going to win the fight in the first place, because Jujutsu Kaisen is a story and the story would be over if he defeated Sukuna. He'd easily be able to take care of Kenjaku afterwards and the main conflcit would be resolved. Would it really be an interesting story if Gojo one shotted the villains while the kids just wathced on Television?

The story is also not about Gojo, it's about the students. Gojo may think he's the protagonist of reality but he's not the protagonist of the story.

Once again, Jujutsu Kaisen is a story and stories have themes. We may grow personally attached to characters, but characters are just narrative tools to convey the themes of a story, no different from prose, dialogue, and art. Characters are a tool to be used well or used poorly, and sometimes yes that means killing them. Whether Gojo's death was naratively satisfying though isn't the purpose of this post though we're only asking what does it mean?

Finally, Jujutsu Kaisen is not only a fictional story, it's specifically a tragedy. Full disclosure, it's a manga about death.

The Protagonist of a Tragedy

So, number one shout out to me for making this post 4 months ago where I called the way Gojo would end the fight.

Excuse me while I fist pump for calling it!

The question on everyone's minds is why does one of the most powerful characters in the manga die offscreen in a pretty humiliating way, cut in half and helpless on the ground just like Kaneki. The reason Gojo didn't get a more heroic (or cooler) death is because we're not reading My Hero Academia, this is not a story about heroes or even a typical Shonen manga it is a tragedy.

In poetics Aristotle defines tragedy as:

"an imitation of an action that is serious, complete, and of a certain magnitude; in language embellished with each kind of artistic ornament, the several kinds being found in separate parts of the play; in the form of action, not of narrative; through pity and fear effecting the proper purgation of these emotions" (51).

To paraphrase a tragedy is about human action, actions characters make in a tragedy often have dire consequences. One of the most common consequences if the reversal of a hero's fortune, a hero of a tragedy usually starts out on top and ends up on the bottom because of the bad choices they make. If in normal shonen manga characters overcome their flaws through effort and persistence, in Jujutsu Kaisen we see characters more often than not lose to their flaws.

The reason I posted that Kaneki panel specifically is because it was a brilliant moment of narrative punishment for Kaneki's central character flaw. Kaneki the hero's main flaw is that he always fights alone, and he constantly makes that same choice over and over again to fight alone. One of the characters helpfully explains it as well.

Stories are primarily about change. If a character doesn't change they're not serving the plot, unless that specifically is the point. People have pointed out how abrupt it is for Gojo to get sealed in Shibuya, get let out, and then immediately die afterwards but that's kind of the point. Gojo made more or less the exact same choice (he asked for Utahime's help for a buff but otherwise fought the entire battle himself). The definition of insanity and what not, why would doing the same thing over and over again net him a different result?

Not only did Gojo choose to fight alone, but as I've been hammering on and on about in previous meta the entire fight Gojo cared more about fighting a strong opponent then he did saving Megumi, the child he was responsible for.

Jujutsu Kaisen is not a typical shonen manga where everything is resolved by beating a strong villain in a fight. That's specifically why I used the Tokyo Ghoul reference, because the reason Kaneki is defeated offscreen like that is because he thought the world worked like a shonen manga. He has a fantasy sequence where he's fighting Juzo in a shonen battle tournament like this is Yu Yu Hakusho right before it snaps back to reality and he's limbless on the ground.

Gojo is a major character in the manga Jujutsu Kaisen, literally "Sorcery Fight" and he is the best sorcerer in the whole world. His entire identity revolves around being a sorcerer. Since he is so good and beloved at what he does, he thinks that everything is resolved by exorcising a curse or defeating a strong opponent. He has basically no identity outside of that. Which is why when he's fighting the possessed body of his student, a person he's been mentoring since childhood his priority is not to save Megumi but to beat a strong opponent. Gojo is a sorcerer, before a human being. That's who he is, that's who he always has been since day one.

I think part of the negative fan reaction comes from fans being really attached to this scene in the manga and deciding Gojo's entire character revolves around being a good mentor figure to children.

Which is just incorrect, Gojo's entire character revolves around being the strongest. On top of that though, Gojo can care about children and also care about being the strongest he can care about multiple things at once and have those things contradict each other because humans are complicated. I'd point out even in this panel where he's stating motivation he's not trying to raise these kids up into being healthy adults, he wants them to be strong Jujutsu Sorcerers. Even when he's raising kids, his intention is to turn them into Jujutsu Sorcerers because everything in Gojo's mind revolves around Jujutsu Sorcery. Gojo does not exist outside of the world of sorcerers. Gojo may be the chosen one but he'd never be able to hold down a job at Mcdonalds.

I think in general readers put more investment in the things characters say out loud, rather than their actions. You can say one thing and do another. I can say "I should never eat sweets again I'm going to improve my diet", and then go and eat ice cream five hours later. Gojo can state out loud his intention to foster children and protect their youths, but then fail to properly do that in the story. Characters are not always what they say they are, that's why they're interesting to interpret. This isn't me calling the readers stupid, just pointing out that Gojo is made up of contradictions. He wants to get rid of the old guard and replace them with something new, but Gojo IS THE OLD GUARD.

If the culling games arc has shown us one thing, it's that ancient sorcerers brought to the modern age do not care that much about human life on an individual level, they are all of them egoists. There's a reason Gojo resembles someone like Sukuna more than he does any other character in the manga. I'm not saying Gojo is exactly like Sukuna, he's far more altruistic and uses his genuinely noble ideals but at the same time Sukuna is a shadow archetype to Gojo he represents Gojo's flaws. The flaws that Gojo succumbs to in tragic fashion.

Which if you believe that Gojo genuinely does love his students, and the ideal he's fighting for is to raise up a better generation and allow them to live out their youths, then Gojo throughout the entire Sukuna fight is acting against those ideals. He cares far more about fighting Sukuna then he does saving Megumi, it's shown over and over again in the battle, Megumi is an afterthought to him. If Gojo care moredefeating the big bad and saving the world is more important than helping a child that Gojo is responsible for then Gojo is acting against his stated principles. Why should Gojo win the fight when he's fighting for all the wrong reasons?

Tragedies are like visual novels, if you make the wrong choice the novel will give you a red flag. If you ignore the red flag then you get locked into the route with the bad ending. Gojo always fights alone. Gojo only ever fights for himself, even if he's using that selfishness in support of a more noble ideal like creating a better generation of sorcerers. If Gojo consecutively makes the same changes then in a tragedy he's not going to be rewarded for it.

Gojo wants the old generation out and the new generation in, but Gojo resembles the old generation too much. Old sorcerers like Hajime and Sukuna respect him, Hajime argues that Gojo being able to fight for his pride is far more important than him living to the end of the battle when Yuta wanted to interfere and help him.

Gojo's death isn't a surprise curve ball that Gege is throwing us for shock value, it's a result of his choices throughout the manga. A manga about change, and the change between generations is not going to punish a character for remaining roughly the same. Of course you might find it disappointing that Gege didn't give Gojo the chance to grow and change and experience a character arc like Megumi or Yuji, but Jujutsu Kaisen is a tragedy, and the way Gojo's arc ended is consistent with what Gege wrote.

Jujutsu Kaisen is not just a tragedy though, it's a manga about death. The manga begins with Yuji's grandfather warning him not to die alone the way that he did. His grandfather's dying words are what motivate Yuji throughout the beginning of the manga as he's searching for a "proper" death.

One of the major themes of Yuji's character is a contemplation of death. He accepts that death is inevitable, so he wants to save them from the gruesome deaths they'd experience if they became victims to curses and allow them to have a more satisfying death. Yuji's grandpa died an unsatisfying death because he died alone in a hospital room. Yuji even tries to make his own death a satisfying one because he believes by dying to seal away Sukuna he'll reduce the total number of casualties to curses.

Jujutsu Kaisen keeps investigating the theme of death and what exactly would make for a satisfying death. At one point it's all but stated that death is the mirror that makes humans analyze their lives.

When Yuji fails to save Junpei from the "unnatural death" it calls into question whether or not his goal of saving people from unsatisfying deaths and the gruesome deaths caused by curses is even feasible. Nanami even says that Yuji might not be able to accomplish his goal and warns him away from the path.

We see repeated unsatifying deaths in the manga, each time someone reflecting on their deaths that they weren't able to get what they wanted out of life. This list comes via @kaibutsushidousha by the way I'm quoting them.

Nanami's a character who chose to work as a sorcerer because he didn't want to evade the responsibility of doing all you can to help people, he wanted to believe he's somewhere where he's needed. He never runs away from responsibility like Mei Mei does so he quite literally works himself to death, living and dying as a sorcerer. Nanami or Gojo's dying hallucination of Nanami even says as much, his death is the result of him choosing to go south and returning to be a sorcerer.

Maki chose revenge against the Zen'in over her sister, and as a result Mai is dead. Maki has all the power in the world now, her revenge complete but she's left with a sense of "now what?" She's as strong as Toji now but she failed to protect her sister, and it's the result of the choices she made. Maki's reflection isn't triumph, it's "I should have chosen to die with her."

Even Yuji himself is robbed of his narrative purpose. The manga began with Yuji saying he wants to choose how he's going to die and he'll die taking out Sukuna with him so he can reduce the number of people killed by curses in the world. Both of those things are thrown in Sukuna's face. Number one the amount of people Yuji can save by permanently killing Sukuna is now a moot point because he let Sukuna rampage in Shibuya.

Number two, Sukuna isn't even in Yuji anymore. To build on what Comun said though, this repeated tragedy has a purpose to it and understanding requires understanding that Jujutsu Kaisen is an existentialist manga. Existentialism is basically a school of philosophy centered around the question of "Why do I exist?"

There's nothing about the invetability of death to make you question why you're alive in the first place. In the myth of Sispyhus, Albert Camus boils down all of philosophy to one question.

"There is but one truly serious philosophical problem, and that is suicide. Judging whether life is or is not worth living amounts to answering the fundamental question of philosophy. "

All of philosophy is should I shoot myself in the head or should I keep living? Everything comes after that question, which is why in Jujutsu Kaisen a lot of the characters motivations revolve around them contemplating death. Sorcerers exist in a world where they can die any moment, and as Gojo says most of them die alone. It might be the nature of sorcery itself that causes so many people to die, not only are they dying because they are trapped in an uncaring system, but the characters themselves aren't really attempting to live outside of it. They live and die as sorcerers, replaceable cogs in the machine.

All of these unsatisfying deaths may just be the result of all these characters making one choice, to live as sorcerers rather than people. Because to exist means to live in the world.

Even in Mechamaru's case, his goal is deeply existentialist by what I defined, all he wants to do is live in the world with everyone else rather than be stuck in his hospital room but his actions contradict that goal. Instead of letting his friends come and visit he's obsessed with the idea of getting a normal body because he feels that's the only way he can exist with everyone else, he makes a deal with the devil, he lies and goes behind their backs. He wasn't living with everyone else in the world and he could have chosen to, he chose wrong and his death is the result of that choice.

Jujutsu Sorcerers aren't living in the world. They're living in a little snowglobe far removed from the world with its own rules, most of them regressive and disconnected from the rest of society. If you define existentialism as just "living in the world' then a lot of these characters aren't, because they only exist in the world of sorcery.

INVISIBLE BUFFY: What are you talking ab- SPIKE: The only reason you're here, is that you're not here. (drinking) INVISIBLE BUFFY: Right. Of course, as usual there's something wrong with Buffy. She came back all wrong. (moving around on the bed) You know, I didn't ask for this to happen to me. SPIKE: Not too put off by it though, are you? (drinking) INVISIBLE BUFFY: No! Maybe because for the first time since ... I'm free. She tosses the sheet aside. Spike looks around, trying to figure out where she's going. INVISIBLE BUFFY: Free of rules and reports ... free of this life. SPIKE: Free of life? Got another name for that. Dead.

Not living in the world with everyone else is the same as being dead.

A lot of these characters either make the choice to act alone, or be a jujutsu sorcerer rather than a person and because of that they die as sorcerers, b/c sorcerers die that's what they do. Mai didn't want to keep living as a hindrance to Maki so she kills herself. Maki didn't want to be anything other than a sorcerer, so her little sister dies and she's not a big sister anymore. Nanami chose to leave his job behind and become a sorcerer again, he dies as one.

Of course I don't think the manga is punishing characters for being too egotistical, but rather too unbalanced. If anything Mai is too selfless and that is why she died, she didn't want to live for herself and chooses self sacrifice for her sister. An unbalance between selfishness or selflessness results in an underdeveloped ego. Jujutsu Kaisen doesn't punish individualism per se, moreso if you're not a fully developed individual you won't last long. Because it's also a manga about growing up in the world, and a person who doesn't have a healthy, mature, well-balanced sense of self is not a grown up.

This twitter user det_critics points out that Gojo (and also Yuki + Yuji's) failures in the manga can be attributed to the fact they don't have real senses of self.

Gojo has an identity crisis as outlined by Geto, "are you Satoru Gojo because you're the strongest, or are you the strongest because you're Satoru Gojo?"

It's a challenge for him to find some reason to live outside of being the strongest, and in tragic fashion Gojo just doesn't find it in time. Gojo lived for fighting others, and proving to himself that he's the strongest, and that's how he dies.

There's something I like to say about narrative punishment in stories. There are two ways to punish a character, you either don't give them what they want, or you give them exactly what they want. This is the latter, Gojo wanted to find someone stronger than him because deep down he believed that nobody could understand him unless they were on his level. He wanted to be surpassed, and that's why he focused on creating stronger young sorcerers, but he never shook himself of the belief that only someone as strong or even stronger than he was could ever be emotionally attached to him so he made a deliberate choice to draw a line between himself and others.

Gojo's essentially gotten what he wanted from that choice in the worst way possible. The student he picked to succeed him Megumi, has his body stolen and kills him. Gojo is surpassed, but it's not by one of his own students it's by an enemy that's not only trying to kill Gojo but is going to massacre his students afterwards.

Gojo's spent his entire life believing that because he's more powerful that makes him inherently different and above others, and being lonely because he himself believed he couldn't relate to ordinary people and he dies like an ordinary person, an unsatisfying death where he wasn't able to bring out Sukuna's best, where he gets unceremoniously cut in half offscreen but yay he's no longer the strongest. He's gotten exactly what he wanted. Megumi is still not saved, Sukuna's probably going to kill more people because Gojo failed to stop him here, but hey at least he stopped to compliment Gojo.

It's empty, but it's empty because of the choices Gojo made in life to just not bother connecting to people or develop any kind of identity besides being a sorcerer. Gojo lives and dies as a sorcerer, and his dying dream is returning to a teenager being surrounded by everyone he was with during his school days, because that's the happiest time in his life. Ironically he was happier before he became the strongest, because that was the only time in his life that he allowed himself to connect to people.

However in the eyes of others, he is someone who has it all. That's why he is always alone. There was no one who could hold the same sentiments and mutually understand him. Geto was the only one who could understand what he was trying to say, and the only one who could communicate well with him.

It's no coincidence Gojo and Geto die exactly a year apart on the same day, if anything I'd say the reasons they die are similiar to at least thematically. They both die because they don't want to live in the world. Geto thinks the world is too corrupt and GOjo doesn't want to be anything other than a sorcerer, both of them fail to adapt.

「 'It's just. . .' It's just that it was what Geto had to do. [...] To someone like him, the reality that the world of sorcerers presented to him was just too cruel. '. . .that in a world like this, I couldn't truly be happy from the bottom of my heart.'」

They can't be happy in a world like this from the bottom of their hearts, so narratively they both die. The things they chose to live for at the end of their life they fail to accomplish, Gojo is no longer the stronget, Geto fails to wipe out mankind or make major changes to the world and they die as normal people unsatisfied because they weren't trying to live in the world and make connections to others. They die almost karmically a year apart because their main connection for both of them, the thing which made them feel connected to the world and other people was each other.

Which is why this panel breaks my heart and is so narratively satisfying because of how unsatisfying it is...

"If you were among those patting my back... then I might've been satisfied."

Gojo reflects that he's not satisfied dying against Sukuna, not because he failed to give him a good enough challenge but because Geto wasn't there to pat him on the back. The one thing that would have satisfied him he couldn't have, because he didn't live to connect to people he lived to be the strongest and he died alone as the strongest. There's just something deeply upsetting about Gojo's dying dream fantasy just him being there talking with all of his dead friends who he never appreciated or connected to properly when he was alive. Knowing that if something had just gone a little differently, that even if he had to die no matter what he could have died happier if Geto was among the people saying goodbye to him because that connection with Geto is what gave his life meaning.

Dazai Osamu: "A life with someone you can say good-bye to is a good life, especially when it hurts so much to say it to them. Am I wrong?" -Bungou Stray Dogs Beast

#gojo satoru #jjk spoilers #jjk meta #jujutsu kaisen 236 spoilers #jjk 236 #jujutsu kaisen 236 #jjk 236 spoilers #jujutsu kaisen #jujustu kaisen meta #jujutsu kaisen theory #jujutsu kaisen manga #satoru gojo #geto suguru #suguru geto #satosugu

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mysicklove · 7 months

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𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄

DAY 1 : PET PLAY

With: Izuku Midoriya and Katsuki Bakugou

Word Count: 5.0k

Warnings: sub! izuku and katsuki, gn! reader, collars/leashes, dog ears, reader forces katsuki to bark, reader is purposefully mean to izuku, mlm (they are forced to makeout), hand jobs, slight orgasm control, tons of sappy nicknames

A/N: hi guys!! welcome to day 1!! fun fact, this randomly got posted in the middle of the night some random day in september. fuck tumblr que, idk what happened. but here we are LOL

You'll never get used to it. Having two pro-heros as your dogs. Kneeling at your feet, only in their boxers, silently waiting for their owners command. It was a dopamine rush every time the three of you went into this headspace.

They both had on their designated personally designed collars. The sweet one had a red leather one, that complimented his pleading green eyes perfectly. The brat wore a light pink sparkly collar. He had fumed the first time he saw it, yelling at you to fuck off and refusing to put it on. But after you put a muzzle on him the rest of the night, he shut his mouth. He still gets pissed when you clip it on him, but instead grumbles to himself, not wanting to risk the horrible metal muzzle. Besides, he knows you only do it to get a rise out of him. So on most nights you gave him his usual black spiked collar. Obviously tonight you were feeling more teasing.

The muzzle and a gag lay next to you in case either of them decide to act out. Izuku of course wouldnt ever dare to purposely disobey in this mental state. But he had a huge problem of talking. Dogs arent supposed to talk, so next to you lays a cartoon bone shaped gag, waiting to be put into Izukus mouth.

Tonight the two of them were leashed together, a pretty but simple black leash divided into two different clips. Their section was small, so the two of them were forced to sit shoulder to shoulder with one another to prevent pulling at the leather.

They also wore their puppy ear headbands, just because you were feeling special today. Izuku has green floppy ears, and Katsuki, blonde pointy ones. You also had tails designed for them, but that would involve some…prepping. So the collars, ears, and leash were enough for today.

You sit on the bed, crossed legs, with you wrapped around the end of the leash. You give it a hesitant tug and the two of them collapse forward, Izuku with a small whine and Katsuki with a glare, immediately bringing himself back onto his knees, pulling Izuku with him.

You reach forward to pat the both of them on the head. Izuku preens, looking down with clenched fist and a blushing smile. Katsuki looks away with a huff, but you know thats the best you'll get out of him.

“Look at my boys,” You coo, “You guys are so precious.” You gently pull the leash upward so that the two of them are forced to look up at you.

Izuku beams at you, feeling himself buzz from the praise. “Thank you, Y/N! I want to be good for you today! Even Kacchan says he does too–” You give him a sickly sweet smile, nodding your head and humming at him. He is completely unaware of you trailing your hand toward the gag, waiting for him to finish his rambling so you can shove it on him.

Katsuki’s eyes flicker to your hands immediately and his eyes widen. It doesn't take much for him to realize his situation. The two of them are tied together. That definitely means something, and Izuku hasn't seemed to realize it yet.

The two of them were in this together. If Izuku gets punished, the chances of the metal muzzle coming on are high. “We will be your good-”

Katsuki flings his hand over the others mouth, the force of it pushing Izuku over. The blonde topples forward with him, from the short binding leather. Izuku lands on his back and Katsuki lands on top of him with a groan.

You laugh hysterically and the boys both flush in embarrassment, making eye contact with eachother. Katsuki quickly pulls himself up and Izuku is forced to follow – not that he minded. They sit back on their knees both red in the face, looking at the ground, too embarrassed to look at eachother.

You pat the blondes hair, and he gulps. “Good boy, Katsuki! Poor Izu almost got gagged, that would be too bad, right puppy?” You smile, turning your gaze to the freckled boy who is nodding his head frantically, hating the gag as much as Katsuki hates the muzzle. It makes his jaw hurt, and the drool is humiliating.

You continue to run your fingers through Katsukis hair as a reward and he unconscioully leans into the touch, still unused to the praise. “I guess we don't need a muzzle today either!” Red eyes widen and he tries not to seem to excited at the thought. He gulps, and looks away, clenching at the thin fabric that fails to cover his leaking cock. You chuckle at him, leaning forward to press a kiss to his temple. Izukus eyes flicker to you, clutching his fist to hide his obvious jealousy of the affection.

“What should I do with the two of you?” You hum, admiring the leash in your hand. The boys gulp, and Izuku wants nothing more than to speak, so he bites his tongue to keep himself silent. Katsuki grows weary, wondering what type of mood you were in today.

“Should I make the two of you fuck eachother?” Izuku whines, leaning forward to rest his head on your knee, to wordlessly show his disapproval. You chuckle and bring your hand to his curly green hair, and notice that Katsuki is scowling at you, having the same view.

You know they prefer it when you are involved. They always complain its not as fun without you, and besides who would give them orders? What will two dogs do without a owner to command them?

“Alright, I've got an idea.” They peer up at you, Izuku still in your lap. “We are going to do some training!” They both flinch, eyes flickering to each other in a silent agreement. This will most likely be something not so pleasant. “I was thinking we try some obedience exercises? C'mere get on the bed you two.”

Katsuki begins to stand and you yank the leash forward, causing the both of them to fall over, foreheads resting next to the carpet. “I don't remember dogs standing.” The blonde fumes, trying not to yell at you. He hates being dragged around.

Izuku paws at the edge of the bed, glancing back at Katsuki to follow. He rolls his eyes with a grumble, but follows behind, on his hands and knees as well. Izuku sits so close to you, that he is practically in your lap. He seems to be vibrating with excitement, hoping you will be kind to him today. You rub his cheek, and he beams for you, nuzzling into your hand.

Katsuki, dramatically, sits as far away as he can, which isnt far due to the leash attached to Izuku. You smile at him at he gulps. “C'mere Kats,” You say, patting your lap.

He nods hesitantly, and climbs into your lap, looking away when you kiss his cheek. Izuku lets out a small whine and rests his hand on your thigh, obviously jealous of the positioning. “We are gonna play a little game.” Red eyes catch yours. “I am going to give out an order and the both of you are to follow them. Easy right?”

Katsuki pauses for a second. Following commands was what he struggled with the most. His pride always got the better of him. He gulps, but nods.

Izuku on the other hand, is nodding his head with a grin. This was easy for him, and he was always happy to please you. Just a couple of orders and then you will get to touch him. He could do that with his eyes closed.

“Good boys! Now paw.” You set the leash down and hold out both of your hands flat. Izuku rests his hand in yours in an instant, leaning in closer to hopefully get praised. Katsuki glances at you, and then the hand, and silently places his open hand on yours. He looks away while doing it, slightly embarrassed.

“Good job Katsuki!” You praise, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. He grumbles under his breath, but the tips of his ears go pink. Izuku leans forward and waits for you to kiss his own cheek, but you don't make an effort to look at him. He whines for it, and you glance at him, a malicious smile on your face. “Dont be spoiled Izuku,” You coo, pickingup the leash and gently pulling on it, causing the both of them to lean closer.

Izuku slightly pouts, but nods. Katsuki feels uneasy; Izuku always gets praised. Something was going on.

“Alright. Now kiss.” In an instant Izuku is pouncing on the other, and Katsuki topples over at the force of the movement. He lets out an annoyed groan when Izuku's lips lock desperately with his. Izuku on the other hand is moaning into it, slightly dramaticizing the sound to hopefully coax something out of you.

You sit and watch, trying to not laugh at how different the two are in this situation. Izuku seems to be suffocating Katsuki with his tongue, while the blonde is pushing on his chest to force him off. “Alright, enough,” You command, and just like that, Izuku is pulling away, grabbing Katsuki by his collar, and pulling him up with him.

Izuku this time crawls into your lap, practically purring from how content he feels in the position. But to his dismay, you shoo him off, pushing at his chest with a stern glare. “Did I say you can sit there, dog?”

He gulps, hands trembling, and surprised at your tone. Not only that, but you called him, dog. Not puppy, or sweet boy, his usual nicknames that you give him. Did he do something bad?

Katsuki glances at him, kinda feeling a bit bad for him, but not bad enough to say anything. He feels your hand grab at his collar, and force him forward until he is in your lap again, your hand petting his hair. He peesr back at Izuku who was dragged forward, and looking up at Katsuki with hurt eyes. Jealousy, most likely, and maybe confusion of why the blonde gets to sit there and not him.

“Speak, Puppy,” You demand, tapping on Katsukis jaw.

Izuku makes a frantic woofing noise, loud enough that your eyes trail to him. The scarred hand is back on your thigh, and big green eyes peer up at you. Your facial expression doesn't change, but your words cut him like ice. “I didn't ask you to bark, mutt.” You turn back to Katsuki, ignoring the pleading stare from your right. “Speak, Katsuki.”

Bakugou pauses, his face flushed in embarrassment. This is where things got tricky. He would rather die than do something so humiliating. It was one thing to put the ears on and “look” like a dog, but to act like one is some sort of degrading thing. His pride would never let him do something as pathetic as that.

He scowls at his hands, avoiding the burning gaze on the back of his neck. You hum at him, grabbing his chin, and forcing him to look at you. “Katsukiiii,” You purr, hoping to encourage him.

He shakes his head, huffing out, and ignoring your words. The force of your hands on his jaw gets rougher, and the blonde knows you are beginning to lose patience. He can see Izuku begin to squirm uncomfortably, waiting for him.

Your eyes peer into his, and your words come out slow, every syllable seeming to have a command behind it. “C’mon puppy,” You murmur, “bark for me.”

A couple seconds go by and he doesn't make a noise. You sigh and let go of his chin. “Well, I guess nobody gets to cum tonight. How sad, I was so excited to play with you guys.”

Izuku grabs onto Katsuki frantically, eyes wide and pleading. He has been waiting for this all week, no way was he willing to give it up for his childhood friend's pride. They were being treated like dogs for god sake, the first step was giving up your ego for pleasure.

The blonde glares at Izuku, but then glances at you, who is beginning to reach forward and take off his collar. You were being serious, and that fact sent shivers down his spine.

“W-Woof?”

It's quiet, meek and nervous. Izuku covers his mouth to hold back a giggle, watching the other turn a bright shade of pink. “Louder,” You encourage, resting your head in the palm of your hand, growing more and more entertained by the second.

“Woof. Woof,” He tries, but it sounds more robotic, than dog like. He grips at his boxers, and can feel tears of humiliation prick at his eyes.

“Relax, Kats. What do dogs sound like?” You whisper, petting his head, and trying to hold back a coo, because of how tense he looks.

Izuku inches forward to the blonde, nodding at him when the two make eye contact. Katsuki gulps, and takes a deep breath. “Arf! Woof! Woof! Ruff?”

You begin to laugh, and Katsuki wants to curl up in a ball and die. He feels Izuku's hand on hisback, patting it encouragingly, but he doesn't have enough energy to bite back at him. So he lets the green haired boy continue, waiting for your giggling to stop.

You pull at the leash, and the two come forward, looking at you. You dont spare Izuku a glance, focusing solely on Katsuki. “Good boy! You did so well for me!” You praise, giving him a peck on his mouth and ruffling his hair affectionately.

He tries not to let the praise get to him, but the tint of his cheeks say otherwise. “F-Fuck you,” Katsuki mumbles, gripping at your thigh.

Izuku's eyes widen at the spoken words, and his eyes immediately flicker to the gag and muzzle. He also grabs onto your leg, hoping you wont use them. “Ah ah ah,” You tutt, “You know puppies dont speak. I'll forgive it just this once since you are doing so good for me.”

He nods, trying not to roll his eyes. “Now, lets get to the fun stuff. Katsuki definitely deserves a reward for passing his training! Right, Izuku?”

Whenever this is going, Izuku seems to not be involved. He gives you a sheepish glance, clinging closer to you. He was listening to, why isn't he getting a reward? And it didn't make sense, why were you calling him a mutt and dog, just previous to this. Katsuki was the one to get the harsh treatment by you due to his bratty nature, but Izuku didn't do anything wrong.

Red eyes meet green, and Izuku pauses. Then he sighs, and turns to you, nodding meekly. You barely look at him, but smile. “Now, lets get these off of you sweet boy,” You murmur, grabbing onto his boxers and beginning to pull them down. Katsukis eyes slightly widen, but he allows you to, jumping when the cool air kisses his skin.

Izuku stares from the spot behind the two. Watching the way Bakugou's boxers get tossed aside, and how your hand moves onto his thigh. But the only thought that was repeating in his head, was the name you called him. Sweet boy.

It was his. You have never called Katsuki that, because Katsuki isn't sweet. He isn't the docile and obedient one, the sweet one. Why are you calling Katsuki by his named? It didn't make any sense, and Izuku felt himself bite the inside of his cheek.

“Cmon, show Izuku your pretty cock, Katsuki,” You tease, turning him around in your lap, so that his back is touching your chest. The two of them make eye contact, and Katsuki is the first to fume red, hiding his face into your neck while his cock stands proudly on display. Izuku whines, feeling his own pulse against the thin fabric of his briefs.

Your hands travel to Katsukis dick, forming a makeshift hole, and beginning to stroke it up and down. “Lets test how trained you are Izuku.” He perks up at his name, practically vibrating that you finally acknowledged him. “No touching yourself till Katsuki cums. Easy right?” He pauses, frowning slightly. This is what he struggled with the most. How needy he gets.

It's not his fault, but the second he gets into bed with you or Katsuki, he just gets…excited. Constantly thinking about how quickly he can cum, and how many times he can go without falling asleep. His sex drive was high, although he gets too embarrassed to admit it. But you know him well enough by now.

“If you don't, the two of you dont get to cum for two weeks.”

Two pairs of eyes snap toward you in an instant. A threat like that would practically kill Izuku, and Katsuki also was not in favor of waiting that long. The two of them make a silent agreement, and Izuku slowly places his hands behind his back, clasping them together and waiting. If they dont stray from this position, it will be fine.

You grin at him, but then focus your attention on Katsuki. You open his thighs, slapping him gently when he tries to close them from embarrassment, to give Izuku a full view. One of your hand finds his nipples, and the other wraps around his cock.

Izuku stares at your slow, sensual movements. The way your hand pumps Bakugou, and the way the blonde lets out a shaky breath. He is still tense under Izuku's view, but Izuku assumed he would be. Katsuki got nervous being watched, and you liked to exploit that. You always teased him about how cute he was, even when the blonde scowled at you with a pink face.

Even now, Katsuki seemed to have a pinched brow. He glances at Midoriya, baring his teeth slightly, and then looking away. He probably didn't like how vulnerable he was right now. The only one naked, and getting touched.

Izuku would kill to be in his position.

“There you go. Feeling better now, puppy?” You coo, pressing light kisses onto his neck. He seems to melt at the sweet words, hating how easy it was you to make his heartbeat to pick up. He nods slightly, and finally falls slump against your chest, trying his best to ignore Izuku's ruthless stare.

Your hand rubs over the head, thumbing at the slit, and then moves back down to pump him some more. Your other hand cups his balls, and begins to fondle them gently. His breath begins to pick up from the intense feelings, and his hips begin to rock into your hand. Katsuki’s eyes fall shut, and he rests the back of his head on your shoulder, slightiy tilting his head upward.

And as Katsuki finally begins to relax, Izuku finds himself growing uneasy. He gulps, and glances at his briefs, sighing when he sees the dampening spot from where his cock lay. He was too hard, and the boxers were making him uncomfortable. He wants them off.

But he is not willing to risk it. So he plays with his hands behind his back, and shutters whenever he hears Katsuki moan out. He inches closer to the two of you, just until his knee touches the blondes upper leg.

A drop of pre leaks from the blondes tip, and both Izuku and Katsuki make a noise. Katsuki a groan, and Izuku, a pained whine. He was unbelievably jealous, and every cell in his body screamed at him to touch himself. Make the pain go away. Bakugou gets to feel good, why cant he?

“F-Fuckkkk,” Katsuki groans out, and you laugh, and then tilt his head to to the side, and press your lips onto his. Izuku makes a choked yelp, eyes widening and hands coming undone to grip at your shirt. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair. His cock was weeping by now, begging for any sort of touch, and it hurt.

But you didn't care, and the sloppy noises of you are Bakugou's lips together made him let out a shaky, hurt breath. Katsuki grabs onto the back of your neck, pulling your closer, and opening his mouth to slip his tongue in yours. The hand hasn't stopped its motions and Izuku can hear the slight whimpers the blonde unconsciously lets out. The whimpers that go straight to his trapped dick.

Izuku glances at you, and then his black briefs. You weren't looking, obviously very much distracted with Katsuki, and he could easily touch himself without you knowing. Just a graze of his palm, thats all he needed. Something to ease the intense discomfort. His hand inches from hid thigh, and closer to his cock.

But you seemed to read his mind, pulling away slightly, and peering back at him. Katsuki is panting, and moaning into your neck, while your eyes glance at the scarred hand. “Whatcha doing, mutt? Can't go a couple minutes without touching yourself? You are acting more like a bitch in heat, than a puppy. Isn't that right, Kats?”

Katsuki doesn't really seemed to care, just nodding slightly and bucking his hips into your closed palm. He was only thinking about his own pleasure, but he agrees anyways with a low groan.

Izukus eyes widen and he pulls his hand away in an instant, tears welling up from frustration and your words. He shakes his hand frantically, leaning in closer to hopefully convey how desperate he was. He didn't touch himself; he listened to you.

“No. Keep your hand there, dog,” You scold, and Izuku nods quickly, scrambling to place his hand back onto his thigh. Inches away from his dick.

You nod, and then suddenly, without letting either of the boys know, push Katsuki onto Izuku. Not hard, just enough for the blonde to balance either arms on Izuku's shoulders. His frame casts a shadow on the freckled boy, and he looks up to see Katsukis flushed appearance staring down at him. His ruby eyes are widen slightly in shock, but his mouth is open, and he is panting.

But the worst thing about it all, was that Katsuki's bare cock was meerly inches from his. Your hand remains wrapped around it, and once situated, begins to pump again. It sends Katsuki groaning, and resting his head on Izuku's neck.

Izuku's hand twitches, and he bucks his hips up into the air, just centimeters from touching Katsuki. He feels a drop of pre hit his thigh, and he whimpers, closing his eyes to pretend it doesn't exist. It's not fair. Its not fair. Its not fair.

“Open your eyes Izuku. Look at how pretty Katsuki looks.”

He shakily nods, and tears begin to drip down his face. This was mean. Jacking Katsuki off basically inches away from his own throbbing cock. Izuku didnt deserve this. He knows he didnt deserve this.

He feels Katsukis hot breath on his neck, and he shivers. Green eyes dont leave the lewd sight in front of him, and he feels like he is going insane. His hands begins inches his way toward his bulge, and he gulps, shivering when it comes closer and closer to the spot that will make all the pain go away.

Katsuki, takes notice to this quickly, and pins the hand to his thigh before he could reach it. “Dont you fucking dare,” he hisses into Izukus ear, quite enough so that you dont hear. Red eyes glare up at him, and Izuku looks away.

He feels angry at Katsuki’s words. How mean he was being, when he was getting all the praise and touch. They are supposed to share you, how was this fair? “You don't understand what I'm going through,” Izuku mumbles back, his tearful eyes glaring at him.

“I fucking–” You cover his mouth before he could say anything. Katsukis lidded eyes sneer at him, but they seem to roll back when you thumb at his tip.

“Are you two fighting?” You question, gently squeezing the head a little too hard in warning. Katsuki lets out a whimper, and the both shake their heads frantically, slightly panicked on what you would do if you found out.

You hum, and continue your movements. The blonde sighs out, and you release your hold on his mouth. But, his hand continues to stay on top of Izuku’s, not letting him move.

Midoriya's hand twitches from beneath his, and he nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels your hand on his leg. His eyes widen, and he shivers under the lightness of your touch. It barely grazes the surface, and it sends a lightly ticklish feeling up his spine. It was moving closer to his bulge, an obvious tease, and Izuku feels himself begin to pant. He wants to touch himself so badly. Tears continue to fall down, and he screws his eyes shut with a sniffle.

Katsuki on the other hand, seems to be in heaven. He has a slight grin on his face, and he's moaning out with every stroke. He is approaching his high in a matter of seconds. You take notice to the way his body begins to jerk, and the slight higher pitch in his moans. “Do you want to cum, Katsuki?”

He nods his head slowly, breathing into the crook of Izuku's neck, while the other trembles. “Then beg.”

He sighs, but then immediately begins his frantic words. “I need–” You send a slap to his thigh, and he yelps, turning back to you and scowling.

“Don't be a brat. Beg like a dog,” You scold, tone fierce toward him for the first time tonight. It surprises him, and your eyes travel down toward the leash, threatening to grab it if he doesn't abide.

But Bakugou was already at his limits. He was going to cum any minute now, so he doesn't care about his pride any longer. Tears begin to coat his own eyes, and he flushes with embarrassment. “Woof! Arf! Arf! Woof!! P-Please!”

A tear drop lands on Izuku's face, and his whole body tenses. Katsuki looked…so pretty like this. He needs to readjust his pants, he needs to take off some of the weight. He feels tight, sticky from the amount of pre trapped in the fabric with him. And the noises Katsuki is making, makes his head spin, and sweat bead at his temples.

“Of course Katsuki, good puppy, you can cum all you want.”

You grab onto his cock, and give it a couple more pumps, before directing it toward Izuku's crotch. Within seconds of your premission, Bakugou buries his teeth into Izuku's neck, and moans. Its loud, but muffled by the skin. His whole body trembles, and cum flies out and lands on top of Izuku’s boxers.

Midoriya heaves, eyes widening as he watches Katsuki. He shivers at the feeling of teeth in his neck, and holds back a cry. He feels a dampening feeling land on his clothed cock, and doesnt have to do much guessing what it is.

He glances at the pool of cum stuck on his boxers, and then back to you, and finally breaks down and sobs. “Please touch me! Woof! Woof! I cant–Arf! I'm going insane, owner, owner please please please!” He rambles, voice raw from his cries.. He continues to bark, mewl, make any sound to voice his desperation.

Katsuki comes down from his high when Izuku starts hiccuping. His mind is blank, but the sounds Izuku was making was pitiful, and it bugged him. He glances at you, and you nod. He slowly pulls away from the boy, and sits down next to him. He is exhausted, but very much content, basking in the post orgasm glow.

Then, you move toward Izuku, kissing his cheek while he sobs and pinches the skin of his thighs, probably trying to stop the urge from touching himself. You pet his head, stroking the fake ears, and run your finger under his collar. Then, you grab his hands and pull them away before he could hurt himself. He peers up at you, and sniffles, using the back of his hand to wipe the tears. “Did so well, sweet boy. I'm sorry, that was mean of me wasnt it? Do you want to cum?”

He lets out a meek, “Woof,” and cries into your neck, every part of his body shaking. He nods, and tears begin to stain your shirt. Even through it all, he played the role till the very end.

Your hand travels to the bulge, and he doesn't even get a moment to process it before he is cumming. His body shakes with tremors and he screams into your neck. Katsuki watches with wide eyes as Izuku stains his pants.

It's like you knew this was going to happen. You play with his hair and coo at him, and then turn to motion Katsuki forward. He stares at the trembling boy, but abides, resting his hands on your thigh. Izuku slumps onto you, hiccuping from his sobs, but finally looking content. He buries his face into your neck, practically wagging his tail.

You pat the both of them on the head. “Good job, my adorable little puppies. Now was that so hard?”

They both look up at you, and give you the most pathetic but meaningful glare two dogs could give you.

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moni-logues · 1 year

Text

Thirteen Rounds

Pairing: Boxer!Jungkook x f!reader

Genre: smut smut smut smut smut! sex ban smut lmao; established relationship

Summary: JK's boxing coach tells him he can't come for four weeks before his title fight. Ah, four weeks isn't that long, right? ... Right?

Word count: 13.2k

Content: oral sex (m. and f. receiving), unprotected sex, masturbation (f.), orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, sex toys, uh implied come eating? (It's not mentioned but he comes in her then eats her out sooooo it's happening 😂), cutesy nicknames that honestly even make me cringe these days lmaooo

A/N: as I said in a post earlier today, this hit 6k notes on the old blog and I know crowing about notes is tacky and no one cares (and even I don't care! That's not why I'm here!), but I never really got to celebrate this fic when I posted it and it took the fuck off. So here's to another 6k 🤪🤪🤪

FOUR WEEKS TO GO

Jungkook walks slowly, very slowly, down the corridor to the door of your apartment. He does not want to go through it. He really doesn’t want to have to tell you what he’s about to.

Four weeks no sex.

That’s what Coach said. No sex, no masturbation, orgasms 100% completely verboten. He knows this is not going to go down well with you. From the very start of your relationship, you have never gone that long without sex. Jungkook isn’t sure he’ll be able to make it; he’s not sure if you will be either. A tiny part of him worries what it might do to your relationship – you’re stronger than that, aren’t you? This won’t hurt your relationship, will it? You’ve been together for years now, four weeks without sex can’t change anything… Right? Jungkook knows in his heart of hearts that it’s right but the thought of four weeks without you is so unutterably awful that he also can’t believe it won’t change things.

He flops face-first onto the sofa next to you and squirms immediately as you rake a hand through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly. Absolutely none of that from now on.

“You ok?” you ask and he can’t answer because the answer is no and he’s not going to be for another four weeks, another 29 days in fact. He mumbles nothing into the sofa.

“Just tired? Training hard today?”

Training wasn’t hard, especially. This conversation we’re about to have is hard, Jungkook thinks. Keeping his face shoved into the sofa cushion, he breaks the news.

“Jungkook,” slight impatience in your voice now. “I cannot understand you when you talk into the sofa; what’s going on?”

He lifts his head slightly but can’t bring himself to look at you.

“Coach says we can’t have sex until the fight.”

“WHAT?”

“We can’t have sex until the fight,” he repeats, quietly, miserably.

He clenches and unclenches his fists by his side, still not daring to look at you.

“But that’s four weeks away! Four weeks!”

“I know!”

He takes your hand and kisses it, leaning up on his elbows. He rests his head on your thigh, bumping it gently as if he were hitting it against a brick wall. He mumbles under his breath, as close as he ever got to invective against his Coach (whom he nevertheless trusts and respects deeply). You’re being quieter than he expected you to be and it makes him nervous. He expected outraged protestations, reasoned arguments, begging and pleading. But you’re sitting and thinking.

“Why?” you ask. “What’s it for?”

“He says it’ll improve my focus, power, and aggression if I don’t come between now and then…”

You hum in response and he risks a peek at your face. You’re smirking and something about it makes his stomach drop.

“So… You can’t come, but I can do whatever I want, hm?”

He hadn’t considered that. Of course, that makes sense; you’re not wrong, but Jungkook realises this with absolute horror. Not being able to fuck you for four weeks was going to be bad enough as it is, but four weeks of getting you off without a single second of relief for him? He feels sick.

“Noooo! Baby, please. Please, you have to do this with me.”

It’s not his usual role, but he is not above begging. You shake your head.

“No way; four weeks is a long time and I’m not fighting anyone.”

“I know it’s a long time! That’s why we have to do it together!”

“On the contrary, my sweet, little biscuit, the whole point is that we don’t do it together, isn’t it?”

You lean down and kiss his nose but it is of no comfort. He’s pouting now, both furious and devastated at this turn of events. When you start running your hands through his hair again and his dick twitches, he groans; this will kill him, he thinks. Stone cold dead, this is going to kill him. He holds your hand tight and looks at you, finally, dead in the eye, eyes wide and pleading, his absolute best puppy dog.

“Please,” he begs. “Please.”

“Why don’t we have one last night?” you suggest and Jungkook groans because he knows that tone. “You can start tomorrow. One night won’t make a difference, surely?”

You slide down the sofa until your faces are almost level and Jungkook is about to rest his head where your thigh was, but discovers your breast in its place. He holds still. This is his first test and, while you might have a point, he’s got rules to follow and he can’t break now, not at the very first hurdle. He’s got better self-control than that, hasn’t he?

“Hm?” you continue. “Start tomorrow… Come on, Kookie, please.”

He wants to say yes, of course he does, but if he’s going to last four weeks, he’s going to have to practise saying no.

You slide off the sofa onto your knees on the floor and he eyes you carefully. You’re dangerous and you know it. When you trail your fingers down his spine and kiss the back of his neck, he shivers.

“I want you so badly,” you whisper in his ear and he groans. You slip your hand underneath his T-shirt and he’s sticky with sweat. “I didn’t have you yesterday and now we have to go four weeks? Kookie, I can’t take it… Be good to me, Jungkook, please.”

He loves it when you beg. Hearing his name in your mouth all high and whiny, tremulous with need and desire. If he wasn’t hard before, he is now. Goosebumps follow your hand on his back and he shivers, groaning into the sofa, fists clenched again.

“My love, stop it, please. We can’t.” His voice is weak and he can’t believe how weak he’s feeling; if you persist might longer, he genuinely feels he might snap and he’s ashamed that his self-control is apparently all but non-existent. He must do better.

“But I’m so wet already.”

Fuck. He snaps. He kneels up and looks at you, your innocent, little face, a devil in disguise. If you’re just playing with him, just teasing, you’re going to be in big trouble.

“Get up,” he commands, slapping the sofa. You obey without hesitation and he grabs you by the legs, pulling so you’re falling onto your back. He tells him yourself you were lying, of course you won’t be wet; you’re just teasing him and he’ll tell you off and ask you to take this seriously and it’ll all be fine. Then he yanks down your trousers and your underwear.

“FUCK.”

He brings his hands to his face and rubs.

“Fuck, I thought you were lying just to tease me, but fuck, you really are.”

You are. Looking at you is almost painful; he’s desperate to touch you. You’re right there in front of him, legs spread, and all he has to do is touch you. But he can’t. If he starts, he won’t be able to stop. He shuffles back away from you slightly, hands moving to reach you and then pulling back. He swears again.

When you spread your legs wider and shuffle yourself down closer to him, he has to stand. He has to do something with his hands: clenching at his sides, on his hips, on his head, over his face. He’s pacing, too, unable to look at you once again. It would be all too easy to take his own trousers off, let his dick out of its cloth prison and fuck you into the sofa. He has to bite down on his knuckles to stop himself doing just that.

“Kookie,” you coo. “Aren’t you going to touch me? I need you… No one touches me like you do.”

Jungkook is open-mouthed and he has to turn away. He growls, deep in his throat, and gently places his fists on the kitchen counter, when what he really wants to do is smash straight through it. His whole body is tense, fighting itself in an agony of indecision. He needs you to stop; he’s sure you won’t. Not when you’re having this effect on him. He should’ve seen it coming. He knew you wouldn’t take the news well; for some reason, he didn’t expect you to immediately be so defiant. You were always so pliant and obedient for him. But then, this isn’t really his rule and you and his coach didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye.

He freezes when he hears the unmistakeable squelch of you plunging your fingers in your wet heat. Then you moan. Then you whimper.

“Jungkook, please.”

He can barely control his breathing as he stands, still with his back to you, unable to block the sound of you from his ears. He should be the one drawing those moans from you; he should be the reason your breathing is hitched.

He decides quickly that you have a point. He can’t come but that doesn’t mean he can’t do anything he likes. He crosses the space to the sofa in three large steps and forces your hand away from you. He doesn’t see the expression on your face as you look up; he’s too busy staring at his next meal. He squeezes your thighs hard and lowers his mouth to you.

“Fuck, yes,” you breathe and it goes straight to his dick.

He moans loudly as he licks from your core to your clit, drinking you in. He licks through your folds, not wanting to miss a drop. He swirls his tongue around your clit before sealing his lips and sucking hard; you grab at his hair and he flicks his eyes to you but your head is tipped back, your back arching off the sofa. He pulls your thighs, bringing you even closer, smothering him, burying him but if he can’t breathe, he doesn’t notice. He notices the pitch of your whines tilt; he notices your breath come quicker; he notices your thighs twitching under his hands; he notices you tugging harder and harder at his hair. He watches you as he works, alternately swirling his tongue across your throbbing bundle of nerves and sucking, until you’re screaming, your body writhing, shuddering under the waves of your orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he swears repeatedly, almost sure he hears you saying the same, but he can’t move his mouth from your lips; all that fresh arousal dripping from you has his name on it.

You squirm and bring your legs together, your feet pushing against his shoulders and he relents, shifting backwards but still gripping your thighs tight.

“I love you,” he says. “I love you, I love you but fuck, I fucking love your cunt.”

His hands move higher, his thumbs spreading your lips, running up and down, the slick noises they make like music to his ears. He whines as he drops his head to your thigh with a heavy sigh. He squeezes his eyes tight shut for a moment, trying not to lose all control even as his cock aches in his pants, desperate for you.

While he’s trying to keep it together, you extricate yourself from his grip and sink onto the floor. While he’s off-guard, you spread his legs and slot yourself between them. It’s only when his dick jumps as you slide your hands up his thighs that he realises what is happening. He leaps up and away from you in one, quick, fluid motion.

“No, no, no,” he mutters, hands tangling in his hair, twisting his T-shirt, gripping the kitchen counter, anything to stop them wandering to the bulge in his trousers. He’s painfully hard now, twitching with almost no provocation; his restraint is hanging by a thread.

“Jungkook,” you call for him, still kneeling on the floor. “Kookie, come here, let me help you.”

He growls and takes a deep breath. If he even looks at you right now, he knows he’ll snap.

“I’m going to shower.”

He has to get out, get away from you, anywhere will do.

“You better not wank in there!” you call after him. “Or I’m going to be really upset!”

He chuckles bitterly; as if he would ever choose his hand over your sweet mouth. He strips quickly and steps into the shower, turning the temperature as low as it’ll go and the power on full blast. He gasps as a strong stream of icy water hits him; he shudders and shivers and forces himself to stand still. He’s panting and his skin turns red under the blast but he can’t move, not until he’s flaccid, not until he’s stopped thinking about your beautiful pussy and your soft, hot mouth and no-! Enough of this. He calls to mind all his least favourite things, conjuring up the worst images he can, disgusting, horrible, anything. He just has to stop thinking about you.

When he’s finally showered and clean and soft, he leaves the bathroom. It’s not late, but you’re already sitting up in bed, naked as you always are, and he groans, trying to avoid looking at you.

“Hey now, that’s not fair,” you tell him, sulking with an exaggerated pout as he takes the towel from his waist and rubs it over his hair.

He almost chokes on his indignation.

“Not fair? Me not being fair? And what do you call that, out there? Is that fair, huh? And this?” He gestures to you, chest on display, arms just slightly squeezing your breasts together, as if you think he won’t be able to tell. “Is this fair?”

Swallowing hard and taking a deep breath, he sits next to you on the bed; he simply will not survive the next four weeks if he can’t get you on-side. He has to stop you reaching out to touch his cheek; he’s only just been able to lose his erection, he’s not sure he can manage another.

“I’m serious, y/n, I cannot do this.”

He’s not sure he can look at you anymore. The thought of spending a whole night next to your naked form, your soft skin pressed against him… He can’t. He can’t even think it without feeling a stir in his groin.

“I can’t do this. I’m going to sleep in the spare room.”

Never in his life has he been more grateful to have one. He’d sleep on the sofa or the floor if he had to, but, if he’s doing all this to improve his fighting, he needs to keep his sleep up, too.

“Jungkook! Don’t leave me!”

When he risks a look at you, you’re wide-eyed and open-mouthed, dismayed. He doesn’t ever want to be the cause of that face; his heart aches. Maybe this would affect your relationship after all. He returns to sit on the edge of the bed and takes your hand. He kisses your palm.

“I can’t- I… I can’t even look at you, right now, without wanting to jump you.” He says quietly, sadly. “I just-“

“I can put some clothes on?”

Your hopeful face squeezes his heart and he wishes that would be enough.

“No, baby, thank you but we both know that isn’t going to help. I know what’s under there.”

“So, we’re not even going to be able to sleep together for the next four weeks?”

“No, we will, I promise. I just… Right now, I just need to get away from you.”

He chuckles, trying to lighten the mood, but fails. He misses you already.

“Can I at least kiss you goodnight?”

Jungkook isn’t sure. He’s not sure the one thread of sanity he’s clinging to will last, but he has to give you something.

“Of course, you can,” he answers, with only a little hesitation. “But please… Be nice…”

You take his face in his hands and he shivers. You kiss him once, firmly, and then again, softly, sighing against his mouth. He wants to wrap his arms around you and kiss you again, wants to melt into your mouth and roll your tongue with his. Then he feels temptation in his groin and has to pull away.

“Night night, my little custard cream.”

“Night night, my love.”

He leaves, and shuts himself in the spare room, wondering just how on earth either of you will make it through the next 29 days.

THREE WEEKS TO GO

Jungkook isn’t home so you’re taking the opportunity for a little Me Time (courtesy of your favourite rabbit). It’s been a week since the last time you came (courtesy of Jungkook) and you’re on edge. You feel a little guilty for the way you behaved, but you’ve been good this week in penance, even though you’re already missing him terribly.

At night, when he wraps himself around you, his hard chest against your back, his strong arms holding you tight, you feel a steady pulse in your core. You want desperately to shift, just push your hips back a little, bring his hand to cup your breast, do something to address your need of him. It’s worse than usual because, of course, you always want most what you can’t have. Isn’t that a universal truth? Last night, you even wished he would go and sleep in the spare room again; having him so close to you, knowing that you can’t touch him like you wanted to was beginning to get unbearable.

Hence, Me Time.

Jungkook is out and not due back soon so you have plenty of time to take things slow. Or at least, that’s what you intend. You take a nice, long, hot bath; apply your favourite body lotion: a rich, thick, cocoa butter that makes you feel expensive; you potter around the apartment for a while in your sexiest lingerie – there’s no one to see you, but it makes you feel sexy anyway. You think about Jungkook. You think about his hair, too short for your preference at the moment; you like it a little longer, a little wavier, giving you plenty to grab onto at the nape of his neck just as at the crown; you like it when it flops into his face and he pushes it back; you like when he lets you plait it and style it, just for the two of you, just for fun.

You think about his beautiful, brown eyes: huge and wide, bright and shining, so open and innocent. You think about the way he looks at you sometimes, like you’re his entire world, like he’s looking at the most beautiful, peaceful sight he’s ever seen. You think about the way he looks at you at other times: like you’re prey; like he’s calculating exactly the right way to destroy you; his eyes dark, black, piercing; eyes that silently command and will be obeyed.

You think about his mouth: his soft, pink lips and two straight rows of perfect white teeth; you think about his mouth on yours, the unyielding pressure of his lip ring, the hard bite of his teeth on your bottom lip, his soft, wet tongue rolling against yours; his soft, wet tongue swirling around your nipple; his soft, wet tongue licking through your folds, flicking across your clit, his lips tight around you as he sucks. You think about his long fingers, their reach; his strong hands and how they direct and control you, pinning you down and lifting you up.

You think about his cock, the prettiest you’d ever seen (though you weren’t surprised, given the rest of him); in perfect proportion, neither too long nor too thick, a slight, gentle curve, smooth but for one thick vein running the length of it. It makes your mouth water just to think of it; your pussy throbs, missing it and you settle on the bed. You can feel the crotch of your underwear is already sticky and your heart is already thumping but you’re still telling yourself that you’re going to take this slowly, because you have plenty of time.

You discard your bra, teasing your nipples beneath it, twisting at the barbells that run through each of them, remembering the way Jungkook had reacted the first time he saw them, as if it were Christmas morning and they were a brand-new puppy and a skateboard. You slip a hand down behind the waistline of your knickers and exhale sharply as you spread your juices across your clit. You’re aching now, with desire, with frustration but you take deep breaths to calm yourself down. You let your fingers work slowly, gently, dipping down between your lips to your entrance, exploring your folds, teasing and tapping your clit. It was almost like stepping into a bath: enveloped in warmth as blood rushed to the surface of your skin, cocooned in pleasure as it radiates outwards from your core to the tips of your toes. Goosebumps spread as a shiver rushes down your spine.

Then you get out your rabbit and the lube and shuffle out of your underwear. You coat the toy with lube, wipe your hand against yourself and turn it on, letting it rest against you for a moment, cycling through the settings until you reach your favourite. You think, not for the first time, as you slip it inside you, smoothly, easily, how much you wish you had one of these moulded from Jungkook’s cock. He thought you were joking the first time you said it, but you weren’t then and aren’t now. You want to be able to have him inside you even when he wasn’t around – or at times like this when he is around but isn’t allowed inside you. Nothing compares to him and while this toy might get the job done, it will never be the same.

The little rabbit ears press intently against your clit as you angle it inside you and start to rock your hips, working out a long, soft moan. You tip your head back and close your eyes, focusing on the coiling pressure in your abdomen. You cycle to another setting – higher, faster, more insistent now – and whimper with every breath as your climax comes closer.

“God, I’ve missed that noise.”

You sit up with a jolt to see Jungkook at the bedroom door, eyes roving hungrily over your naked body.

“Jungkook,” you gasp. “What are you doing here? I thought you had plans.”

He shrugs.

“Changed ’em... Though I might be sorry I did.”

“I thought you were going to be out... But since you’re here...”

You beckon him to the bed as you switch off the toy. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head with a sigh as he approaches you on the bed. You’re surprised; you thought he would refuse, hold back, protest even a little. Maybe this would be easier than you thought.

He looks at the rabbit, appraising.

“How does it compare, baby?” he asks, his voice low, a smirk just ghosting over his lips.

“It doesn’t, Kookie.” You flop backwards onto the mattress again. “Nothing compares to you.”

“Let me help you.”

You sigh with relief, waiting to hear his trousers unzip or the shuffle of cloth as he undresses but it doesn’t come. Instead, you hear the quiet whirring of vibration as Jungkook turns the rabbit back on. He chooses a different setting – short, intense pulses – and slips the toy back inside you, pushing the ears hard into your clit, forcing a choked moan from your throat.

“Jungkook... Kookie, no. I want you.”

The look on his face is fierce but softens when he looks into your eyes. He kisses your temple and whispers in your ear.

“You know you can’t have me now, baby. Stop playing dirty.”

He takes a hand and pushes low on your stomach as he rocks the toy inside you and changes the setting: insistent, hard vibration that almost sets your teeth chattering.

“Fuck,” you whisper as your walls start to clench and all your muscles tighten and you’re whimpering, mewling, seconds from climax, your breath catching in your throat. You’re a band stretched to its limits and just as you’re about to snap, Jungkook pulls the toy from you and sits back on the bed, not touching you.

“Wh-.. I...”

You look at him, dazed and confused, as he stands up and takes the toy with him out of the room.

“Where are you going?” you call after him, your voice weak and strangled.

You’re itching with frustration and impatience and when he returns, only a minute later, you turn to him, outraged. He’s empty-handed and he sits on the edge of the bed next to you and tucks your hair behind your ear sweetly.

“What are you doing?” you ask, still breathless, heart still pounding in your chest.

He leans closer to you, resting on his forearm on your chest, lightly crushing you beneath his weight as he takes your hand in his and directs it to his crotch, where you can feel his dick, semi-hard under his trousers.

“I’m showing you how hard this is,” he whispers menacingly in your ear. “You’re still not playing fair, little miss.”

He stands and walks out of the room, looking back over his shoulder at you.

“If I don’t get to come, you don’t get to come!” he calls.

You give a little, angry shriek and throw a pillow at him, which misses by miles, and you storm out after him.

“I did not sign up for that!” you shout, giving him a shove.

He grins at you and raises his eyebrows.

“What’s mine is yours, baby.”

“No way! No way! You know the second you leave, I can just make myself come.”

“That’s true,” he admits as he checks his watch, “but I’m not leaving again tonight.”

Furious now, you move closer to him, your hands on his hips. You lick your lips and move a hand between you, palming his erection. His eyes flutter closed.

“Two can play at this game, Jeon,” you hiss, sliding your hand between his trousers and his boxers, running your finger up his turgid length.

“Don’t call me Jeon.”

“Isn’t it your name?”

He tips his head back and bites his lip as you finally breach his boxers, wrapping your fingers around him, squeezing lightly.

“You only call me Jeon when you’re pissed,” he chokes out.

“Yeah, I’m fucking pissed.”

His head tips forward again and he looks at you as you sink to your knees, pulling his clothes down with him. You see him swallow hard.

“Not sure you thought this through, did you?” you ask, swiping your tongue across his head, tasting the tang of his pre-cum. “Here you are, all hard and ready for me...”

You take a hand through your lips, sweeping up your arousal and spreading it on the head of his dick.

“And me all ready for you...”

You wrap your lips around him and take him until he hits your throat, looking up at him through your lashes, then you come up and pause, just holding him in your mouth, your tongue running back and forth across the underside. Jungkook grunts and his eyelids flutter closed. You can see his fists clenching on either of him.

“Y/n...” he groans, quiet and strangled.

“Mm?” you hum, not taking him from your mouth, and you notice the muscle in his jaw jump as he clenches. “You started this,” you remind him, as you trail sloppy, wet kisses down the length of his hot, smooth cock. “I was going to be nice to you, but you had to go and spoil it.” You run your tongue flat across his balls as your hand continues to pump his shaft and he moans.

“Fuck, I miss you,” he whines, his voice high and tight as you run your tongue back to his head, enveloping him in your mouth once again. “God, fuck.”

You hollow your cheeks and suck, your hand and mouth moving as one. Jungkook’s fist moves to your hair, gripping tight, not directing you, just to have something to hold on to. As you push lower, tipping your head to take him into your throat, he jerks.

“No, no, no, stop! Stop.”

He pushes you back by the shoulders and stands, his breathing ragged, looking up at the ceiling and blinking hard. You let him stand there, recovering; you stay kneeling at his feet.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he says, each more aggressive than the last. He pulls his boxers and his trousers back on and looks at you, eyes wild. “No.”

“Kookie... Please.”

You pout up at him, put your hands on his thighs, and shuffle just an inch closer.

“No. Fuck, no, I can’t. I can’t.” He looks at you, alternately desperate and resolved and then shakes his head. “Baby, god, I want to. You know I want to. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

His hand is in your hair again, gently pulling you upwards, pulling you closer. He kisses your cheek and your lips, each little peck lasting a little longer than the last, until he just barely parts his mouth and you grab his bottom lip in your teeth. He moans and pulls away.

“No, no, no, no,” he whispers. “I can’t.” He swallows hard and looks skyward again, praying for strength. Then he repeats his no before stalking off into the spare room, cursing under his breath.

You sigh, more frustrated than ever, and, having spotted your stolen sex toy on the bathroom counter, you go back to finish what you started.

TWO WEEKS TO GO

Jungkook is sleeping in the spare room again. He says it’s because you’re not to be trusted, but what he means is that he isn’t to be trusted. He could barely trust himself around you before, but two weeks into the ban, he can’t risk taking any chances. Especially not with the way you’ve been behaving.

Apparently, so you tell him, there’s very little evidence to suggest that sex before a sporting event has as negative effect on performance.

“I even read,” you say, not for the first time, “that not having sex for a while lowers your testosterone so it’s not just that having sex isn’t bad, it might even be good! Don’t you want that?”

He’s trying to block you out. You’ve already told him this and he’s already told you that he’s doing as he’s told. He focuses on the TV, trying to get invested in the storyline, trying to care about the characters while you pester him relentlessly. He has to grit his teeth together and breathe carefully.

“Don’t ignore me, my little hobnob.”

You always pull out that biscuit when you think he needs to lighten up. He tries not to grin, not very successfully, because it’s such a ridiculous name – who calls a biscuit that, really? Then you slip your hands around his waist and rest your chin on his shoulder.

“I miss you,” you say, kissing his shoulder and rubbing his back.

He sighs, dropping his head, carefully trying to revel in your touch without giving in too far.

“I miss you too, love. Just two more weeks.”

You sigh, aggravated, and sit back.

“Yeah, two more weeks; we’re only halfway through. We have to do all of this all over again. Is that really what you want?”

“No, of course it’s not!”

Of course, he doesn’t want it. What he wants is to pin you down and eat you out ’til you’re screaming and then he wants to fuck you like his life depends on it, spend himself on you so hard he literally can’t move. What he wants is the opposite of this. Why can’t you understand that?

He turns to you, shifting his body around and reaches for your hands.

“Of course, it’s not what I want. I want you all the time. Why do you think I’m sleeping in the spare room again? I can barely stand sitting with you like this; every part of me is screaming at me to just take yo-“

“Then do it! Do it! I’m telling you, the science is on our side!”

He has to take a deep breath; he knows you may well be right. And he doesn’t like the thought of doing all this for no reason, for, if the article you read is right, the possibility that he’s actually less strong, less powerful in the ring, but he’s on a path and he has to stick to it.

“I’m doing what Coach says,” he tells you, sounding more resolved than he is. “I hired him for a reason and he’s already said he can notice a difference. This fight is so important and I have to follow him to the letter. I am sorry. I am…”

He is what?

He puffs out his cheeks and sighs. He doesn’t know what to say. There aren’t words for this or, if there are, he doesn’t know them. He leans forward and grabs the back of your head, pulling you in for a kiss. He knows he shouldn’t, knows how dangerous this is, but he misses you so much and he’s so upset and you’re so upset and he has to do something.

You scoot forward and sit yourself in his lap. His heart hammers in his chest, anxiety or desire or a heady mix of both, he’s not sure but his mind is slipping away from him and he’s not sure he cares anymore. He wraps his arms around you as his tongue finds yours. You’ve hardly had this much of each other over the last week and he’s ravenous. You moan into his mouth as he sucks on your tongue and he feels a stirring in his crotch. He can feel you, just above him, and he wants to push you down, roll your hips over his, but he daren’t; he doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop himself if you do.

He's breathless with the need of you and it catches in his throat as you grind into him. He moans and bites hard at your bottom lip; you keep going, kissing him hard so that he can’t speak.

Jungkook gathers up his strength and pulls back, holding you tight in place so you can’t chase after him. He’s breathing heavily and his hand trembles as he reaches up to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“Y/n…” He doesn’t know if it’s a plea or a warning; he doesn’t have any more words to follow. There isn’t anything he can say or do that will make this situation anything other than torture. Nothing will make you feel better than being fucked by him, fucked hard, nothing more and nothing less. He knows because he feels the same. He’s almost dizzy with desire; he’s giddy but clinging with desperation to the last remnants of his self-control. There’s a tiny voice at the back of his head proud of him for having come this far, but he can’t listen to it because we all know what comes before a fall and he can’t afford a fall like this.

It's the title. It’ll be his first title. This win will put him on the map. This win will establish him as a real, professional boxer, one to beat; this will be, he hopes, the first of many belts, many titles. His coach has real faith in him, he believes he can make it to world champion if he works hard enough. And Jungkook wants it. He wants to work; he wants to win. And now, he has to win. Losing is not an option. And once he has won, once this is over – in two, long, painful weeks – it’ll have all been worth it and he’ll be able to have you six ways from Sunday, every day of the week.

“Please don’t stop,” you whimper and the open, desperate pleading of your glistening eyes goes straight to his dick. “Please, please.”

He’s had to resist your pleading before; he’s even enjoyed resisting your cries and pleas, but that’s when he’s been in control; that’s when he’s been ramping up to wrecking you once, twice, three times, as many times as you can take. This is ramping up to nothing and your pleading only makes him feel broken.

You bring your face to his again and he can’t back away. You kiss him with urgency, running your hands over his body beneath his T-shirt, teasing his nipples until he’s fully hard, straining against his boxers, pressing against your crotch. You strip off your own top and Jungkook’s resolve crumbles. He dips his head, lifting you slightly from his lap to kiss your breasts, to flick his tongue over your nipples and swirl them in his mouth, one at a time, until they’re tight and hard. He bites hungrily and you mewl above him, whining his name. It’s like heaven to him and he can’t believe he hasn’t had this for two weeks; the two weeks stretching out in front of you are paling, forgotten in some faraway corner of his mind.

He's kidding himself that he can last a little longer with you lifted up like this, your hips no longer grinding your core into him. He keeps his mouth occupied at your chest and squeezes your glutes in his hands, then slipping them into the wide legs of your shorts. When he pulls your underwear to the side with one hand, and slips the fingers of his other hand into your warm, waiting slip, he sighs with satisfaction. You’re tight and soft and so, so wet.

You take his face in your hands and pull him back to your mouth. The kiss is all tongue and heavy breathing, messy and far from pretty but you’re each so desperate for the other that nothing else matters. You kiss his cheek and his jaw and bite down on his earlobe, whining breathily as he presses insistently against your front wall, each curl of his fingers bringing you closer to the edge. He slips his other hand behind your underwear and spreads your slick over your clit, rubbing insistently, knowing you’re getting close. He can tell by the sounds you’re making, sounds he’d work out of you every day of his life if he could.

“God, Kookie, baby, yes.”

You plant your lips on his neck, muffling your whines and whimpers as the heat builds inside you. Jungkook groans, shivering as you suck on his neck, as your cunt clenches his fingers tight, as your legs shake on either side of him. He doesn’t stop, can’t stop even when you’re tugging his hair, even when you’re squirming, even when you’re screaming his name. He’s far away now, lost in the bliss of your velvet heat. He’s insistent and you’re so sensitive that he pulls another orgasm from you with a cry and a shudder that takes your whole body. He’s so focused on you as a way of distracting himself from his own intense, aching desire. He’s painfully hard; he can feel the spreading circle of pre-cum on his boxers; he’s not entirely sure he won’t come even if you don’t touch him.

Then you flop against him, spent, and your hand grazes his crotch and he jerks violently.

“Fuck!” he gasps and tears prick in his eyes. He can’t look at you; he stares far away, out of the window, trying to stop his dick throbbing, trying to slow his heartrate, trying without success to calm himself.

“Kookie,” you whimper, your voice shaky. “Let me-“

“No,” he whispers, no strength in his voice, no strength anywhere in his body except his stiff, swollen cock. He closes his eyes and he can feel a tear trickle down his cheek, followed by your lips as you kiss it away. He flinches at the contact and whimpers when you stroke his hair.

“I can help you,” you whisper but he doesn’t hear you.

He’s lost, his mind strangled with desperate desire. His brain is whirring, swimming, floating away from him; his fingers tingle and shake and his heart thumps erratically in his chest. He’s never been this excruciatingly turned on before and knowing that he can’t see it through is heart-breaking.

You move your hand towards the waistband of his trousers and he grabs your wrist. He’s gripping so tightly, he’s sure it’ll hurt, but he can’t be gentle now.

“Don’t-,” he starts but his words are swallowed by a sob.

You press your forehead against his and he can’t stop the whimper as you kiss him, so light, so soft. He holds your face in his hands, barely even really touching, trying not to tangle them in your hair and pull you closer. You stay like that, just looking at each other for a minute or more, his eyes never leaving yours. He knows he needs to calm down, knows he should be calming down now that you’re still but his breathing doesn’t settle and he can hear the thump of his heart and the roar of his blood in his ears.

“Baby,” he says eventually, his voice croaky and hoarse. He has to do something and it has to be something drastic. He needs a shock to the system, a full reset. “I need-… I need you to get something for me.” And he needs you to get it because he’s not sure he can walk, not sure he can move at all.

“Anything.”

“Ice. And water.”

“Huh?”

“Ice and water; I need a big, big glass- a jug of iced water please.” His voice wobbles at the end and he’s trying so hard to regulate his breathing, trying so hard not to feel the pulsing in his underwear.

“Ok…”

You shift on his lap but he can’t let you go. His fingers twine in your hair and you have to pry them out to allow you to get up.

With the relief of you off him, the air around him clears and he jumps up, taking off his T-shirt and pushing his trousers to the floor. Once again needing to do something with his hands while he waits for you, he holds them out to the side, not daring to let them anywhere near his erection, fists clenching and unclenching. He feels like he might really be on the edge of a heart attack or an aneurysm. He feels abnormal, like nothing he’s ever felt before. He could keel over.

He can hear you, the ice clinking in the glass and he taps his feet, impatient. When you hand it over, he takes it with both hands and up-ends it all over himself.

“Jungkook!” you cry, as water splashes all over the floor and the sofa and the coffee table, but it sounds distant, the shock of the water temporarily sending him far away. He’s gasping and shivering and blinking hard, then screwing his eyes tight.

“I need you to go,” he tell you, still unable to look at you.

“Go where?”

“Anywhere, baby, literally anywhere,” his voice is still wobbling, his teeth chattering. “If we’re still in the same room in five seconds, I think I’m going to die. Come or die, either way, I don’t know but please, please just go.”

“Ok, I’m going, I’m going.”

He can barely hear you; he scrubs his hands over his face, swearing over and over and over again, begging the universe to let him calm down, to make these next two weeks go as quickly as they possibly can.

ONE WEEK TO GO

Jungkook hasn’t taken any more risks since that night. And he has also told you, almost every day since, to behave yourself, to stop doing that; he’s asked if you’re trying to kill him and the truth is: yes. You’re sick of it now; it takes almost nothing to get you hot: just the thought of him, randomly popping into your head as you’re trying to send emails at work, and you’re getting wet. You can’t sleep anymore. He’s still in the spare room but you lie in your bed, thinking about him lying in the other bed, and you can’t help yourself. You make yourself come again and again but it’s never enough. You can’t believe that he’s not only managed to ruin all other men for you but also your own damn self. You know how to push all your buttons but it’s not the same when it’s you doing it, it's not the same without Jungkook between your thighs.

You know there’s only a week to go, but it’s too long and you’re too frustrated and you’re reaching your boiling point. So, you do what any other sane person would do: naked protest. You stop wearing clothes in the house entirely, getting dressed only to go out and stripping as soon as the front door shuts behind you. When you first walk into the kitchen as Jungkook is eating breakfast, he chokes on his cereal and you have to slap him on the back; you feel his eyes following you as you make yourself a cup of tea and some porridge.

Now he’s just ignoring you. He’s doing his best to stay out of any room you are in, but that’s fine. It’s a small apartment and you’ve hidden his noise-cancelling headphones, so you know he can hear you when you moan and whine, wanton and gratuitous, as you do your best to fix your frustration.

He still hasn’t broken. You’re impressed, honestly. You didn’t think that he would be able to hold out this long and, as aggravated as you are, as deeply, unutterably frustrated as you are, you can’t help but admire his self-control. Unable to be in the same room as you, he texts you and tells you that his trainer is impressed with his performance and is confident about the fight; he believes he can win. He had fucking better win is what you think, but you text back something a little more supportive.

Six days before the fight and Jungkook is in the shower. You’re at a loose end, so you decide to join him. You thank the lord that he didn’t lock the door; he’s got his back to you and doesn’t notice you there until your hands are on his waist. He cries out in surprise and goes to turn around but you hold him still, kissing his shoulder and his back and the nape of his neck. You run your hands up his abs, grab his fulsome pecs, and peeking around his shoulder, you’re delighted to see he’s already hard.

“Were you about to masturbate in this shower?” you ask him, only half-serious.

“No,” he groans. “This is how badly I want you, y/n. Why are you making this so hard?”

You giggle at his choice of words and he growls deep in his throat. He turns around and cages you in against the screen with his hands either side of you.

“In six days,” he tells you, his voice low, face serious, eyes pinning you to the spot. “In six days, I am going to fucking destroy you. I’m going to fuck you so hard you can’t walk straight for a week; I’m going to fill you up so completely, my cum never stops dripping out of you; I’m going to make you scream so loud, our neighbours want to call the police; I’m going to fuck you and fuck you and fuck you again, then I’m going to fuck you some more and I’m still not going to be done. I’m going to take this cock,” he says, grabbing it at the base and hissing hard through his teeth as he does, “and I’m going to wreck your pretty little throat and your pretty little pussy, is that what you want?”

You can only nod, mute with desire, as you can feel arousal drip down your legs and you shiver, despite the warm, steamy atmosphere. Jungkook nudges his nose against yours, eyes still black as pitch, and he whispers in your ear.

“In six days.”

Then he leans back and stands back under the stream of water.

“Now get the fuck out.”

You’re so overwhelmed, you just do as he says and he follows behind you, shutting the door – and locking it – as soon as you’ve crossed the threshold. You blink hard and, as you come to your senses, you feel too many things at once: hot, frustrated, desperate, livid, heartbroken, a little bit intimidated, a lot excited, and over and above everything else, impatient.

Jungkook stands in the shower, turning the water icy again. He’s shaking, trembling all over, and before he can get himself under control, he’s sobbing. Hands against the tiles, shivering with cold and shuddering through ragged breaths, he drops his head and cries. Cries because he’s so frustrated, because he misses you so much, because he’s so tired, because he hates disappointing you, because he’s anxious, because he’s not sleeping well at night without you, because a tiny, paranoid thought niggles at him that this is going to make you leave him, because he can’t live without you and if he didn’t know it before, he knows it now.

He cries under the cold water for so long that it stops feeling cold against his skin and when he finally steps out of the shower, his skin is livid red and icy to the touch.

He goes to stay at a friend’s house that night.

“Look, I love you so much and I miss you so much that I can’t be around you,” reads his text. “Just thinking about you makes me want to die a seriously Little Death. The fight will be over soon; just six more days and I promise, I’ll give you everything you want and more. I love you, I love you, I love you. Please, please, please wait for me.”

“I love you, too, my little Bourbon,” you reply. “But I might never forgive you for this.”

“I promise, I’ll make you forgive AND forget, just wait ’til Saturday.”

He stares at his phone, wishing the messages said something different. He knows you’re joking, thinks you’re joking, hopes you’re joking, at least a little bit.

He sends a string of different kiss emojis and you toss your phone down beside you. Considering your small arsenal of sex toys without hope, you pick one at random, knowing even before you’ve started that it’s not even going to touch the sides of your desire. Your need for Jungkook has become a yawning chasm that stretches further than the eye can see; and it is a need for Jungkook specifically. For one mad moment a few days ago, you had considered the possibility of going out and getting fucked by someone else, but the second you thought it, it repulsed you: you don’t need a dick, you need his dick; you need his mouth; you need his hands. You need him, no one and nothing else. Accept no imitations. Which is really rather a pain right now.

You try to focus on your body, on the pleasure building there, the pleasant thrum in your core as you work with the vibrator in your folds and against your clit. You try to think about nothing, removing Jungkook from the equation, just emptying your mind and focusing on the physical sensations of your body.

It doesn’t work and you get so frustrated that you throw the vibrator in the bin and then, that not being enough, scoop up the others and chuck them in there, too. What’s the point of them, you think to yourself bitterly.

These had better be the fastest six days of your life or you aren’t sure you’ll survive.

FIGHT NIGHT

It was finally here. Jungkook had been working towards this for months, years, for his whole life in a way. It was both the pinnacle of his career and the first step of what he hoped would be a very long journey to the top. The final fight in his bid to be The Ring’s Super Middleweight champion: his opponent, Saul ‘Canelo’ Alvarez. Jungkook has him on reach and height, and he’s also lighter, which he thinks will be to his advantage. Canelo might be a slugger, but that’s where Jungkook excels. People think that his lightness is a disadvantage, that he doesn’t have the strength to throw hard enough punches, that he’s weak, that he’s Amir Khan. But he’s better than that. He’s agile and yes, slighter than other super middleweights, but he’s also strong and he’s also powerful and there’s nothing like seeing the surprise in his opponent’s face when he got his first punch in and they realised that for themselves. Of course, now he’s getting better known, he’s losing that element of surprise but it’s hardly the only thing he’s got in his keep.

But he’s not thinking about that. Today, just like all the other days this week, he’s thinking about you. His coach keeps telling him that he’s strong, that he seems focused, that he seems strong, but Jungkook isn’t entirely convinced. All he can think about is you; his mind is already beyond the fight and he’s anxious that this is going to be his undoing, that he’s going to have survived these past four weeks only to be so keyed up and desperate in the ring that he loses.

He wishes he could see you, just for five minutes, but you’ve been banned from his presence on fight days. You’re also banned from the gym on training days. Jungkook agrees with Coach that that’s probably for the best but it doesn’t mean he likes it. You are a distraction, there’s no denying it, but today, he really feels like he needs it. He needs you. Even an ounce, even a drop of you will do.

He pulls out his phone and dials your number.

“Kookie! Are you ok?” You sound concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?”

“We never speak on fight days; I thought something might be wrong.”

Jungkook sighs and leans his head back against the wall.

“Something is wrong: I miss you.”

“Jungkook! Don’t scare me like that!”

He laughs and knows he was right to call you; just hearing your voice is like a balm to his fraying nerves. He already feels more relaxed.

“I’m sorry, love,” he replies. “I just wanted to hear your voice; we haven’t spoken this week.”

“I know and whose fault is that?”

“I know, I know, it’s mine, but I can’t wait to see you. Even if I lose this fight, as long as I’ve got you, I’m good, I’m a winner.”

“Hey now, you’re not going to lose, my little oat and raisin cook-”

“You don’t like that flavour cookie, do you?”

“Well, I don’t, no, but I thought I’d go with the least sexy flavour, in respect of how easy it is to get a ‘rise’ out of you at the moment.”

He snorts, appreciative of the weird, little effort.

“I think you’re right: raisins are not sexy but cookies are sexy biscuits, aren’t they? By default? Sexier than normal biscuits, right?”

“So you’re saying we need a raisin biscuit that isn’t a cookie.”

“Yeah.

“Garibaldi?”

Jungkook laughs.

“I don’t even know what that is, love, but sure, it doesn’t sound sexy.”

“Ok, then, I know you’re not going to lose, my little garibaldi.”

He laughs again and tells you that his coach has said the same thing (“… not in the same words”). He wishes he could stay on the phone with you longer; having barely spoken to you this week, he misses your voice, your presence, your conversation, just as much if not more than he misses your body. He sees his coach crossing the room, approaching him and he rings off reluctantly, but relieved he got even a minute with you before tonight.

He’s pacing in the dressing room; it’s almost time. He considered asking you not to come to this one; he’s not sure that he’ll be able to focus knowing you’re so much as in the room. The usual rule is that you’re allowed to attend but you have to sit somewhere in the back, somewhere he won’t be able to see you; he’s not sure if that’ll be enough tonight. Coach is talking to him, trying to hype him up, but he can’t hear a word. He just knows he needs to end this fight as soon as he possibly can and that means not going out there all guns blazing like a reckless thug in a bar fight; it means taking a step back (and he physically does it, takes one step back), taking a deep breath, and remembering the strategy, remembering the training. He’s ready for this (“You’re ready for this, JK,” Coach cries); he’s going to destroy Canelo (“You’re going to smash it, mate; you’re going to destroy him!”); and then he’s going to destroy you and himself in that order.

Canelo seems thrown off by Jungkook at the start: his size, maybe, his strength, his Southpaw stance despite being right-handed, Jungkook can’t be sure, but he wins the first round decisively and it’s exactly how he needs it to go: he likes to be the underdog but he likes an early lead. Spite and competitiveness can get you surprisingly far in life. He was right that Canelo is heavy and Jungkook is able to run rings around him; he thinks he might genuinely be able to get this wrapped up early, if he can just manage to hit him hard enough.

That turns out to be an ambitious goal and, halfway through, he’s slightly down on points. He’s frustrated; he can’t quite work out why his punches aren’t landing. Are they really not connecting? It certainly doesn’t feel like it. Are the judges just not seeing them? He’s not sure what he can do about that. He spits out the water Coach squirted in his mouth and he’s nodding at his advice. As he stands to get ready for the seventh round, his eyes roam the crowd, not looking for anything, just looking. Then his stomach flips. He sees you.

You’re sitting in your seat, anxious and uncomfortable. It always makes you anxious to see him fight, even though you know he’s trained for this and he’s as safe as anyone else would be in the same situation, but you flinch every time Canelo lands a punch. Jungkook hasn’t lost a fight all year and you’re surprised to see him losing – even if not by many points. You hadn’t really considered the possibility of him losing, because he doesn’t. He’s Jungkook. He’s the Baby Assassin of Busan. He doesn’t lose.

But things go from bad to worse. The next rounds see Jungkook falter, making uncharacteristic mistakes and misjudgements that cost him points. As the bell rings at the end of the tenth round, you can see the frustration in Jungkook’s face from here. Your stomach twists; you know how much this fight means to him and how upset he’ll be if he loses. You try to rouse yourself; it’s not over ’til it’s over. There are two rounds to go and he’s not so far behind he can’t make it up. There’s still a chance.

When Jungkook stands for the eleventh round, you see him scanning the crowd in your direction. You panic, should you hide? Duck? Cover your face? Too late; his eyes find yours and the second stretches into eternity, just you and him, before he’s tapped by the ref and he turns away. You shouldn’t have come. You’re a distraction. You’re going to make it worse.

Jungkook is going to lose.

The bell rings and Jungkook feels sprightly, buoyed, suddenly less tired than he had done in the last round. He dances energetically around the ring, keeping Canelo moving, keeping him throwing punches and missing, throwing more punches and missing again and again. You’re on the edge of your seat; this is the Jungkook you know. All at once, he lands three punches on Canelo and leaps back out of his retaliatory reach. Then he settles in a bit closer and lets Canelo land a couple on him; this… isn’t the Jungkook you know. You can’t work out what he’s doing; you’ve not seen him do this before. You turn to the clock, watching the seconds of the round tick by. Thirty seconds left. You check the points. Jungkook still behind.

This is more like it, Jungkook thinks. He can end it. He knows he can. He just has to let Canelo let his guard down a little more, tire him out a little further. Jungkook is not letting this get to twelve rounds. It won’t happen. Not on his watch.

You’re so focused on the screen: the points, the time, that you miss what causes the crowd to suddenly surge and scream. Canelo is standing with the referee in front of him, looking a little dazed. The ref lets them continue and the round commences again. Before Canelo has even blinked, Jungkook has hit him with a left hook that you know he put all his weight into. Canelo falls to the mat and doesn’t get back up. The ref starts counting. The crowd count with him.

“8… 9… 10!”

The ref waves a wide cross in front of him; the commentator declares it a knockout; and the crowd is screaming. Jungkook’s arms are in the air, his coach lumbering into the ring to envelope him in a hug, along with everyone else, it seems, the ring suddenly full of people. You lose sight of Jungkook. You’re on your feet, straining to see over the heads of the people in front of you, who are doing the very same thing. Tiny red fists emerge from the mêlée and it’s him; you exhale a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. You’re desperate to get to him. It’s over. The fight’s finally over. And he won. By knockout after a hard fight. This is absolutely the best outcome, better even than you’d hoped for. You bet he’s on cloud nine and you can’t wait to join him there.

Jungkook is buzzing. He’s done it. It’s finally over. And that means there’s only one thing on his mind. He can’t focus, is barely there as they hand him his belt, as he lifts it above his head to show the screaming crowd. People are congratulating him, slapping his back, rubbing his hair; at some point, someone takes his hands and rips off his gloves – he’s not sure where they end up. The fight was televised and a man with a microphone approaches him. He tries hard to focus on the questions, answering as quickly as he can and then the presenter asks just what he’s going to do now he’s won his first Super Middleweight title.

“Well,” he answers, “I haven’t come in four weeks so I’m going to go find my girl and fuck her in the dressing room ’til neither of us can walk straight!”

He points right at you, flicks a peace sign to the crowd and jogs back the way he entered 45 long minutes ago.

He keeps jogging all the way to the dressing room, stopping for precisely nobody. Coach tries to grab his attention, tries to grab his shoulder, but he shrugs him off. Wild horses can’t keep him from you now.

He swings open the dressing room, for a moment disappointed that you’re not there before him, but, of course you wouldn’t be. He’ll have to wait; it’s been four weeks, he can cope with another four minutes. Probably. He paces back and forth, back and forth; he chugs half a bottle of water; he almost wipes the sweat off his body, dries his hair, but then he remembers how much you like him dirty like this. Just the thought of you has got him hard already. He palms himself through his shorts and immediately has to stop himself; to come before you’ve even got in the door is unthinkable, unforgivable.

The door opens and there you are.

“Fucking finally.”

Jungkook slams his hands either side of your head, leaning down over you, sweat still dripping from his hair. He lowers one hand slowly to lock the door, his dark eyes never leaving yours, and then returns it next to your head.

“Did you have to wear fucking jeans?” he asks, laughing lightly. Of course, she’d wear jeans, he thinks, fucking tease. “Couldn’t find a dress? A skirt?”

“Sorry,” you answer, and you’re already breathless.

Jungkook kisses you, pressing his whole body against you and you sigh; god how you’ve missed this. He turns you around with one knock of his hand on your hip and he unbuttons your jeans impatiently. He shoves them roughly down your legs and you step out of them and your shoes at the same time.

“Oh baby, I don’t care. All I care about is finally getting to fuck you like you deserve. Please tell me you’re wet already. I don’t think I can wait a second longer.”

He’s usually more considerate; he would usually take his time. But this is not a usual situation. You laugh.

“Kookie, I’ve been wet for weeks, just hurry the fuck up, would you?”

He doesn’t need telling twice. He strips off his shorts and boxers and as he presses the head of his cock against your entrance, and it twitches, he gasps.

“Shit.”

He takes a few breaths, tries to steady himself. He kisses your neck, buying himself some time. He’s on a hair trigger and he’s not entirely convinced he won’t blow his load in one thrust.

“Just so you know,” he tells you, figuring there’s nothing else for it. “I’m going to last about ten seconds right now, but I promise, I’ll be ready to go again. I swear this won’t be it.”

“Just fuck me, please, Kookie. I’ll take ten seconds over none.”

Your whole body shudders as he presses into you for the first time in four weeks. You both moan low and Jungkook pauses at the bottom. You can feel him breathing heavily against your skin and he takes your trapezius in his teeth, taking a generous bite and not letting go as he drags himself backwards before thrusting in again. Your walls are spasming already; you’re so tight and he’s stretching you just right, filling you up like you’ve not been filled for 29 long days.

Ten seconds, as it happens, was an over-estimation. The way you grip him, the way he can feel your walls fluttering against him; you’re so hot and wet and tight and it’s been so long and he’s so sensitive. He lasts for all of a handful of thrusts before he’s groaning and shooting hot, white ropes of cum into you.

“Fuck, shit, sorry, baby, fuck!”

You can’t help but laugh as you turn around, keeping your legs tight together. He grins sheepishly at you and runs a hand through his sweaty hair.

“I’m sorry, love, I did tell you.” He rests his forehead against yours. “I’ve missed you so much.”

His hands meet across your lower back and he pulls you close for a kiss.

“I’ve missed you, too, Kookie,” you mumble against his lips, half your words eaten up by Jungkook’s mouth. You feel his tongue against your lower lip and you open up for him, sliding your tongue over his as he licks into your mouth. God, even this you’ve missed. You’ve barely even seen him in the last week, let alone got close to him, let alone touched him, let alone kissed him, even chastely. It’s overwhelming now to have him so close to you, all over you. You never want him any further away.

He moves his hands lower and lifts you up under your bum, carrying you to the sofa, where he strips you of your top and bralet – the black, lacy one you know he likes. You almost pout that he takes no notice of it but he catches you eye and grins.

“I notice, I know, I love you, thank you, but god, I don’t want a stitch on you right now. Nothing is better than you like this.” He stretches his hands out over your naked body and climbs over you. He ducks again, swallowing your next moan as he pinches at your nipple.

His mouth is everywhere, burning wherever it touches. You’re sweating and breathless and you think you won’t last much longer than ten seconds either when he finally touches you. Your cunt is quivering in anticipation, your clit throbbing a hard pulse, its echoes shuddering through you. Your back arches as Jungkook moves lower, his mouth on one nipple and then the next and then lower and lower still. He crawls off the sofa onto his knees and pulls you around, legs dangling from the edge. He spreads your thighs wide and takes a moment, looking down at your soaking wet pussy through half-lidded eyes. He licks his lips and clicks his neck from one side to the next before fixing you with a mischievous grin.

“If you even think about teasing me,” you gasp out. “I will fucking murder you.”

He laughs and kisses your inner thigh.

“You over-estimate my self-control, my love. I’m at my fucking limit.”

He is. He isn’t even close to finished with you. His cock is already stirring again as he dives straight in, licking a broad stripe from core to clit and moaning lasciviously as he does. You’re already so sensitive, whining and whimpering as he sucks and slurps at you, his face buried so far into the crux of your thighs, you don’t know if he can breathe. Almost immediately, you’re cresting, arching off the sofa, thighs clamping together on Jungkook’s head as a streak of hot pleasure surges through you and fresh arousal gushes over his face.

He brings his hands to your thighs and forces them apart without breaking contact with your cunt. He doesn’t stop, no matter how you squirm; you can’t catch your breath to tell him you’re over-stimulated, to beg him to stop, to give you a second’s break. A scream breaks in your throat as he pushes three fingers inside you and you’re seeing stars. He finally takes his mouth from you and breathes heavily against you, his breath sending sprinkles of goosebumps across your skin. He curls his fingers inside you and then tips your hips just slightly, suddenly hitting the perfect spot. You’re incoherent, animal, as you moan and whimper, stuttering to another orgasm under his ministrations.

You don’t have to find a way to ask him to remove his fingers as the waves of your orgasm roll through you but just as you are about to breathe a sigh of relief, his mouth is back on you. He’s gentle this time, more patient. He kisses your lips, licks through your folds slowly, moaning, his brows knitting together because it’s been so long since he’s tasted you and there’s nothing he’d ever rather eat. He buries his tongue in your hole, bumping your clit with his nose; if it were anyone else, it might be accidental, but you know Jungkook knows your body perfectly and knows exactly what he's doing. You’re raw, over-wrought, dehydrated. Your vision swims and your voice gets stuck in your throat, able only to gasp and stutter, not even able to scream his name out loud as you scream it in your head. Your hands tremble, one pushing back the hair on your head, the other finding its way to Jungkook’s hair, tangling there as if you could even dream of giving him direction right now.

His eyes flick to yours and they’re black, pupils dilated, lids fluttering quickly to a close again as he moans, vibrating lips sealing around your screamingly sensitive clit. Your hand pulls sharply at his hair, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. You feel like every atom in your body has been electrified, every touch, every movement – yours or his – sending sparks straight to your core, where they’re churned up into a tight ball. Like the death of a star, your body collapses in on itself, contracting and tightening as you are reduced to little more than a silent scream, and then explodes, a supernova of ecstasy exploding within you, scattering bits of you all over the room.

When you open your eyes, you can see stars wherever you look, which isn’t far because you can’t find it within you to move a single muscle.

“You ok, my love?”

Jungkook’s face swims into view, a dopey grin on his sticky, wet face. He looks drunk or high or both. He pushes the hair off your face, your flushed cheeks, fucked-out, dilated pupils staring straight at him; he thinks you look high or drunk or both. He kisses you so you can taste yourself on his lips and you’re suddenly hungry again.

“Kookie.” Your voice is hoarse and low, still strangled with need.

Jungkook hums against your mouth as he lifts you up, pressing your back into the back of the sofa.

“Kookie.”

You manage to grab his face between your palms and hold him still, giving you a chance to focus on him, see him properly.

“Tell me what you need,” he says, as eager to please and energetic as a new puppy and you have no idea how. He should be tired; he knows he’s going to crash hard, but right now, there’s adrenaline surging through him like there’s no tomorrow. He’s wired; he’s excited; he feels almost manic with love and lust and he’s so high, he can’t see the ground. He feels like he could go all night and he’s certainly going to try.

“I need you inside me, right now, right this second. Please, please, please.”

You aren’t exactly unaccustomed to begging but nothing will stop the stream of ‘please’s tumbling from your mouth. Nothing, that is, except the head of Jungkook’s perfect cock in your folds, waiting, teasing at your entrance.

He’s lifted you again, setting you on the arm of the sofa, him kneeling on the cushions; with nothing to rest against, you cling to him tight as your breath catches in your throat. He watches closely as he pushes into the tight, wet slip of your cunt, watching himself disappear into you. You want to make a joke about lasting another ten seconds but you don’t have the energy, the capacity, the mental agility to make it; you just about manage to cry his name as starts to thrust, smooth and slow at first, but soon, quicker, harder, accompanied by quiet growls and grunts as he grips you tight. You really do feel drunk, giddy, hysterical as he’s finally, finally back where he belongs. You feel tears prick in your eyes at the relief of it, the pressure, the pleasure.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he whispers. “Shit, I can’t wait to fill you up, stuff you fucking full. Can you take it, baby?”

He’s relieved he hasn’t come again already, though he knows he could. He’s holding back because he’s still so close to the edge. If he isn’t careful, he’s going to lose it again.

“I can take it,” you reply, voice high and tight. “Give it to me, Kookie- fuck.”

He grabs the hair at the back of your head and pulls it back, exposing your neck so he can kiss you, lick you, bite you there, moaning against your skin as you whimper and stutter.

“Kookie, shit, please. I need you to fuck me forever. God, don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

“Never,” he grunts. “Shit, won’t stop. I’m yours, baby.”

“Only mine.”

“Only yours.”

You press your lips to his clavicle, then lick a bead of sweat travelling down his throat. Jungkook moves faster still, his grip on you painfully tight as he threatens your cervix with every thrust. You’re so sensitive, you’re at an almost constant spasm around him; your limbs still heavy and weak, tingling like they’re both going numb and coming back to life. You simultaneously want this to last forever and feel like you’ll die if a single extra ounce of pleasure is put on you. Then Jungkook sucks at that one spot on your neck that makes you melt and you swear, voice wavering and breaking.

“Give me one more, baby,” he demands, so low you almost don’t hear it.

“I don’t have it,” you whimper.

“Yes, you do, c’mon, y/n.”

And he slips a hand between you, never letting his pace falter.

“Jesus, fuck!”

He touches you gently, but it’s enough to have reality slipping from view, your vision burning white, your blood roaring, screaming in your ears as you cum again. You hold him tight, your nails digging into his back, your teeth hard on the delicate flesh of his neck. It rolls through you, knocking your breath from your lungs, and once it’s passed, you’re trembling, shaking.

Jungkook is holding his breath, straining to last to fuck you through your orgasm; you’re so tight around him it’s like his brain loses signal, just a siren wailing an emergency. No thoughts, no words, when you collapse against him, he exhales, and releases into you with a long, high-pitched sigh.

He lies back onto the sofa, taking you with him.

“That was more than ten seconds, right?” he asks, breathless.

You laugh and pat his shoulder.

“Well done, little jammy dodger; I’m proud of you.”

“For lasting more than ten seconds or winning the title?”

“What title?”

The question leaves your lips before your brain has engaged and Jungkook laughs, first a little and then a lot, so much that you can’t help but laugh with him, can’t help but laugh until you’re crying, your abs hurting, you’re silent in your mirth, breathless and voiceless and hysterical.

When you finally stop, you bring your face level to his. He still has tears of laughter in his eyes and streaking his cheeks. You wipe them away with your thumb and he turns his head to kiss your palm.

“Both, I guess?” you answer.

He grins and shakes his head.

“I almost lost. I thought I was going to fucking lose,” he tells you. “That second half, I-…”

“What happened?”

“I saw you. I saw you in the crowd and I almost fucking came right then and there.” He laughs, though it was anything but funny at the time. “I couldn’t concentrate on the fight; all I could think about was trying not to get a fucking boner. Shit what a stupid fucking idea it was not having sex for four we-”

“I fucking told you!”

“I know, I know. I will never not listen to you ever again for the rest of my life, I swear. God.”

“No more sex bans?”

“No more sex bans. I am never, ever not having sex with you again.”

“Good.”

You lift yourself onto your elbows on his chest and kiss him first on the lips, then the jaw and neck and anywhere within reach.

“Speaking of never not having sex… Are you ready to go again?”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook #bts x reader #bts smut #bts fic #bts #mmm repost

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whiskeynwriting · 3 months

Text

Good Soldier

Captain John Price x Female Reader

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Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Age gap (20ish years - it’s so delicious), secret relationship, alcohol consumption (Price is drunk), dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, brief spitting, mentions of oral (m receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, squirting.

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A/N: Drunk daddy Price babyyyy YESSS

Also, ty SO much to @thesleepingmusicneek for proof-reading this. I wrote this at 3am on a random whim and it was embarrassing how many errors it originally had🥲😂

Also also, I completely forgot to post this on Monday 🙃

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It’s early in the morning when he wakes you, rough hands pawing at the covers and soon your chest. At first, you’re not sure what’s going on; all you can feel is the weight of his body on top of you, the rough scratch of his facial hair rubbing over your face and neck. His back arches forward, curling around you, arms strong in their embrace.

“Price?” Your voice is quiet and wispy, rough from sleep.

“Don’t call me that.” Comes his immediate response. “You know my name.”

And you smile at that, a sinister little smirk he can’t see through the darkness. He’s too busy pushing his lips against your cheek to notice it, anyway.

“Sorry, sir.” That smirk is everlasting, body resting against the mattress as John works his way to your bare skin. “Didn’t realize it was that kind of moment.”

“Why the fuck else would I be on top of you?” He’s snarling, finally ripping your top from your body so he can grab a fistful of your tit. Breathing heavily, his mouth hangs open beside your cheek before closing with a deep inhale. The entirety of his presence is clouded with the smell of cigar smoke and whiskey, nothing you’re surprised by. And you’re not sure if your body is so limp and pliant because of your sleepy state, or your unwavering desire for him.

“Wish you came tonight.” He then says in a rare moment of sweetness, almost cuddling into your body.

“You told me not to.” Finally turning your head toward him, your noses meet, brushing over the other’s. “Don’t need your boys seeing us interact…”

He frowns at this, your repetition of his earlier words. You’d wanted to go out with him, with all of them, but John was getting paranoid. He already felt like all eyes were on him when it came to you. Every chance he got, he went easy on you, gave all the hard paperwork to the other recruits, let you take as many breaks as you’d like during training, even made a habit of calling you into his office one too many times throughout the day.

Reaching forward, John grabs your jaw, fingers pinching into your cheeks. That authoritative tone then makes an appearance as he demands slowly, quietly, “Behave.”

And that makes your cheeks run hot, a girlish little smile forming on your lips. Innocently, you reply with a whisper of, “Just repeating your own words, sir.”

“Christ, you’re a sassy little thing.” With one quick motion, the hand on your face dives down to your thigh, squeezing its softness before moving to your ass. But even though he sounds genuinely annoyed, he’s still pulling on your panties, and it’s now that you realize he’s without his shirt. His chest presses down against your own, firm and full of hair and fuck if that didn’t turn you on more than anything.

“Say my name,” He requests, mouthing at your neck. John is beyond sick of hearing that title, specifically when it came from your lips. He liked giving you this piece of him, liked creating this intimate space.

Burning in the best of ways, his beard scrapes against your skin, soothed by the soft press of his lips. John seemed to be entranced by your entire presence, in the way you smile, the way you move. He’d never felt a sensation so ravenously delicious before he met you, so intensely carnal.

Dropping his head down, John’s lips find your chest, mouthing at your soft slopes. It’s now that you fully give in, hands rising to either side of his face while arching into his touch. Both of those strong hands come up to grab you, too, molding your tits to fit perfectly in his palms.

“John,”

“There we go,” With a broad smile, he praises you. “There’s the good girl I know.”

Those words make your head spin, make your center pulse and your body run hot. He knew what words like that did to you, even in the most mundane situations. You each had your triggers, particular words or phrases that made you weak in the knees and absolutely dumb in the head…

John liked to be called captain on the field, and when he heard you address him by said name, he had to fight the hard-on growing in his pants. But in bed, he liked John, he liked giving you that piece of him. And you, you fought for his attention, for the reward that made your eyes shine like stars in the sky - his praise. There have been too many times where John commended you for your hard work, even in front of the others, speaking words so innocent that no one but you could interpret otherwise. Good soldier, strong girl, even his favorite recruit.

Days with extra praise ended with John pulling you into the locker room, bodies sweaty and sore but desperate for the other’s touch. He’ll lift you against the lockers, cold and rough against your back but it’s hard to notice when he shoves his cock between your legs. Heavy breaths and deep, quiet moans fill the smaller space, John’s sweat dripping onto your body. And you cling to him, too, with every limb you have, face burying into his neck to kiss and lick his sweat-slick skin. It happened often, way too fucking often.

Other days, when he wouldn’t see you as much, that’s when he’d call you into his office. Little is said when this happens, John’s strong arms manhandling you over the side of his desk. He’d yank your cargos down and spit on you from behind, rubbing his fattened tip over your delicate lips.

At times, he’d take you in the shower, too, his strength preventing you from slipping. Sometimes it’s up against the tiled wall, but more often than not, he took you from behind. Your cheek would press up against the cool tile, John’s front pressed firmly to your back. Shower sex was usually a more sensual experience, John’s hands roaming your body with an incredibly loving touch, lips obsessing over your jawline and neck. You’d sway back against him, feeling him throb inside your body while steam filled the room. You only got away with this when it was late, when no one else was in the room.

But fucking in your room, this is new.

“Perfect fucking tits,” He’s nibbling on your nipples now, wrapping his lips around them and sucking harshly.

As if it’s your natural instinct, your hips rock up toward him, your blood rushing with excitement when he finally moves to settle his pelvis between your legs. It’s clear that he’s completely wasted, his movements both erratic and sloppy, but that’s never stopped him before. If anything, it makes everything that much more enticing to you. Even in his inebriated state, he wants you, he finds you.

“Gorgeous girl, my gorgeous girl.”

With an intrigued grin, you return with, “Yours?”

And that’s when his head shoots up, face inches from yours when he declares, “Mine.” Grabbing your jaw in one hand, he stares into your eyes as best he can with the darkness surrounding him.

“You think any of those others boys will fuck you like I do? Think they’ll take care of you like I do?” His head tilts as he asks you this, free hand dipping to the space between your legs. “You’re my girl…” And then, his eyes are drifting down, watching the pad of his finger trace the damp trail on the center of your panties. “My good little soldier…”

“John,” The whimper that comes out sounds helpless, and he likes it that way. Lifting his head alongside a sweet smile, John leans in, finally reuniting your lips. He’s got you now, and he knows it.

It’s been a few days, nearly an entire work week since you’ve last had each other. John was out with the task force for most of it, using tonight to celebrate a successful mission. And while it’s amazing he’s able to do that, amazing that he led another successful operation, to say you missed each other was an understatement.

The hardened muscles of John’s chest press into you, pelvis grinding between your legs while he kisses you breathless. The hand on the back of your head keeps your mouth against him, his eyes closed in bliss. And when you moan, that liquor-soaked tongue takes advantage, shoving its way into your mouth and he’s moaning when you reciprocate the action.

“Let me fuck you.” That raspy voice says, hands already on his pants. Looking up at him, you nod, no longer feeling like the fearsome soldier you know you are. With him, you can be soft.

His own words prompt John to lean back then, undoing his belt and side-stepping out of his jeans. It’s quite the sight, watching this large, muscular man undo his jeans while towering above you. The bed dips with his weight, and you feel a brief chill in his absence. But it’s not for long.

He doesn’t even bother taking your panties off, just slides them to the side before cramming his fingers into you. It makes you moan, makes you shriek when he curls them. And then you’re grasping at his shoulders, scratching over his freckled skin. Your captain doesn’t start slow, it’s quick and firm, the way he fucks you with two digits.

“J-John, baby.”

“Hush.” Is all he says before quieting you with his mouth, moaning into your throat when he finally tastes your tongue. “God, you’re so good like this.” Taking a breath, he shakes his head, scissoring his fingers into your dripping cunt. “Such a good fucking slut when you’re like this.”

“Fuck me,” Your eyes are rolling back, earning a proud grin from your partner. Is he your partner? Has it grown that deep?

Before your sleepy mind can even comprehend it, he’s replacing his fingers with his cock, his head popping in. At such an early hour, it’s almost impossible for you to have a single coherent thought in your pretty little head, other than the sensation of his girth filling the space between your legs. It’s heady, and he’s heavy, throbbing against your warmth when you release such a cute little squeak.

“Christ, just give it to me.” He grumbles above you, the scent of liquor and cigar smoke wafting through the room. That scent just does something to you, especially when you watch him smoke. Late at night, you often fantasize about blowing him while a cigar hangs from his mouth; maybe another time. “Ngh, just lay there while I take this tight little pussy.”

It fills you so completely, his warmth consuming your being. Every time you take him, it’s a perfect stretch, not enough to hurt but just enough to sting. Your hands don’t leave his shoulders, either, clinging to him and urging him down, closer to your skin. Happily, he complies; he’s been waiting for this all night.

“Fuck, I wish you were there tonight.” John repeats, feeling you bite into his neck. “I really do.”

He tries desperately to keep his composure but he can’t, not when you’re squeezing him so sweetly, warm walls wrapping around him so tightly. It’s mere seconds before he’s moving his hips, not allowing you to take in the full sensation of him.

“What if the boys see me?” Your question is breathy, lips kissing the hinge of his jaw and whining when he sinks back into your heat.

“Y’know, sometimes princess…” Leaning back, John grabs onto both of your hips, staring down at you. And the window allows you the perfect view, far off street lamps illuminating the room. “I wish they would.”

It’s then that he’s pulling your body back and forth onto his pelvis, forcing you to meet his movements. He can’t help but pound into your soft body, sinking in as deeply as he can. And wouldn’t you know it, the old man is already panting, blue eyes staring down at you with voracious desire.

“Fuck, it’s so good. You make me feel so good, so fucking good.” John’s words, his moans, they’re louder than you’d anticipated they’d be. And honestly, it feels amazing to be able to do this to him; to be such a young woman and have this captain’s attention.

“Baby…” Whining quietly, your hands reach back, holding onto the pillow beneath your head. It’s all you can do, really, while your body rocks against him with every thrust he gives. And John didn’t just plow into you, no… his hips swayed, plunging deep, hitting hard. “Please.”

“Taking it so good for me, lovie.” You’re practically on display for him. With your arms raised, it leaves your entire torso vulnerable, presenting your body, as if to say use me, use me however you want.

“Bragged about you today, princess.”

“W-What?” The way your hips rut against him forces a groan from his throat, brows furrowing.

“My good little soldier,” He explains, breathless, running a gentle hand down the skin of your stomach. “How well she’s done, how strong she is…”

“They’re,” Laughing briefly, you sigh. “They’re gonna figure it out.”

“It’s like I told you… I don’t know if I care anymore.” Glancing down at your chest, John watches the way your tits bounce with his movements, the way your nipples harden when he leans in to spit on them. “Perfect fucking girl…”

“Baby, please.” You don’t know what you’re begging for and John knows it’s just because he’s fucking you dumb, hitting that delicious spot deep inside your cunt. “Please, more.”

With all your strength, you manage to wrap your legs around his waist, watching the reaction it pulls from him. Letting go of your hips, he lays both palms flat on the bed, dropping down to your chest. The moan that comes from John’s mouth is deep and needy, resting his face between the slopes of your breasts. He was such a sucker for that move. And that, combined with your sweet begs for more, please, John’s picking up his speed. The bed begins to rock from it, your hands leaving the pillow and finding the back of his neck and head.

“Gorgeous fucking thing,” He says, kissing your nipple. “Sweet little girl… all for me.”

The way he moves is utterly devastating to your body, your nerves alight with that wonderfully erotic heat. Every time felt like the first with him, so passionate and erratic, quick movements and forceful kisses. He just wants you, wants to fuck you full until he physically can’t, to mark you from the inside out.

“I fucking love it, I love this, baby.” The way your nails scratch down his back makes him shiver, strong legs supporting his body as he plunges between your legs. “You’re right.”

“I’m right?” John immediately asks, heavy breaths damp against your cheek.

“You, you take care of me.”

And that fills him to the brink with pride. He really does try to, he always has the best intentions in mind when it comes to you.

“Yeah, I do… because what am I, sweetheart? Who am I?”

Fuck, you knew he’d bring this up. You fucking knew it. Of course he held onto that, your slip up from last week, before he left for the mission. But honestly, you haven’t been able to let go of it, either. The name left your lips in quiet pleas throughout the week, playing with yourself and imagining it to be him - in bed, in the shower, after workouts in the gym. And you wouldn’t have even thought of whispering that title if it hadn’t spilled from your lips the night John left.

“I asked you a question.” He demands, punctuating it with a sharp shove.

“Daddy.”

“Fucking Christ.” It punches out of his chest, the muscles in his body flexing to their limit. Both hands find your skin then, one securing to your hip, the other holding the back of your head. Leaning in, John rests his face against your neck, moaning freely.

“Again.”

“Daddy, please.” Your fingers rake through his hair, stinging his scalp when you pull on the shorter strands. “Please.”

Tossing your head back gives him perfect access, his teeth digging in. Here, John sucks on your skin, rutting his hips against yours hard enough to slap against your ass. It rings throughout the room, alongside your collective chorus of pleasure. And he drinks in every little noise you make, every cute whimper that slips from your mouth.

“Daddy.”

“I love it,” He can feel you sucking him in, can feel the way your slick drips down his shaft. “Oh Christ, I love that. I take care of you, yeah?”

“Yes, yes and,” Swallowing dryly, you sigh. “I wanna take care of you.”

Together, your hips grind against each other, forcing him in as deep as he can get. Here, he pauses, breathing against your mouth before biting at your lower lip.

“Yeah?” John questions, hand lifting so he can pull at your bottom lip with his thumb. “And how’re you meant to do that, hm?”

Moving slowly, your captain trails his facial hair along your cheek, your jaw, breathing airily against your neck. It runs a flurry of shivers down your neck and chest, arousal curling tightly in your abdomen.

“I want you in my mouth.” Finally, you admit it.

“Oh,” His surprised chuckle makes you feel hot in the face, sheepish. “What an offer that is. But… it’s not gonna happen, not tonight.”

“Why?” It’s a full-on whine; you can’t help it. With how wonderful he feels inside your cunt, you can’t even imagine how delightful he’d feel on your tongue. His heavy girth filling your mouth, leaking down your throat.

“When I’m inside you, princess, feeling you raw,” Now, that ravenous pace returns, that broad body leaning back again to grab at your waist and ass. “I’m not pulling out, not until I’m done with you. And you want daddy to cum, don’t you?”

“Yes, baby. Yes…”

Releasing a harsh grunt, John continues his movements, rutting into your core and throbbing against your welcoming warmth.

“Can feel you dripping down my dick, sweetheart. You wanna cum?”

“John,” Arching up toward his body, you release a high gasp. “Yes! I want more, daddy, please. Please, I want more!”

“Oh, god, you just love it, don’t you?” Snarling, John runs his nose up the column of your neck, taking in your scent. “My lovely little girl wants my dick, doesn’t she?”

He’s whispering in your ear now, listening to your shrill cry of yes while your hand is grabbing at his ass, pulling him further into you. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, he’s grabbing your face and shoving his mouth over your own. It’s rough, mostly tongue and teeth, feeling overcome by his desire for you.

John can feel every twitch of your velvety inner skin, can feel the way your slick drips down his balls. Christ, you get so wet for him, so wet for such an older man.

“So sweet for me,” John huffs beside your cheek, kissing your soft skin obsessively. “Tight as a fucking virgin, aren’t you?”

In the darkness of your room, your body rocks against the mattress, feeling John’s weight keep you down. All you can hear is his voice, his grunts and groans. All you can feel is the firm warmth of his body, his hot breath, his skin damp with sweat.

“Cum for me,” Comes your small whimper, wanting to feel him inside you, wanting to know he’s inside you. “Please, John.”

“No, I need you.” He insists, reaching down between your bodies. Here, his fingers toy with your clit, circling it, squeezing and rubbing it. “C’mon, princess.” John requests, lips beside your ear as he groans. “Cum on this fucking cock.”

“Fuck,” It comes out as a whisper, eyelids pinching shut with your lips falling open.

“Feeling my little soldier… squeezing around my cock.”

“John, John.” The way he touches you makes you see fucking stars, a delicious little heat burning up through your belly.

“Are you gonna cum for me, baby?” John can feel the way you spasm around his length, the way your breathing becomes shallow and erratic. “C’mon, lovie, be good for me. Cum on my cock, cum like you're supposed to. Just make a mess on me.”

“I’m gonna,” You reply, arms wrapping tightly around his neck. Then, your body relaxes, hips jerking up in an involuntary act. And when John feels it, that hot rush of liquid on his pelvis and lower abdomen, he all but loses his goddamn mind.

A groan punches from his chest, stuttering out through his mouth. Your girlish shriek forces his eyes back, feeling you tear skin with how hard you’ve scratched him. And he can’t wait for the boys to ask, he genuinely thinks he’ll tell them this time. Because… it won’t be the first time they’ve inquired about the marks on his back.

At this point, he can’t hold back, he’s grunting into your neck while he absolutely floods your heat. Every spurt is accompanied by a sharp jerk of his hips, his body tensing and flexing and he’s doing everything he can to keep from falling on top of you. His arms hold you, squeeze you, rubbing the hot slick of your cum over both your bodies.

“Mm…” He’s groaning, laying lightly over your chest. Your wetness has bathed his lower stomach and pelvis, the sight and feel and smell driving him mad. “Baby…”

Gently, lazily, he kisses your neck, eyes closed in contentment. And for a moment, you wonder if he’ll stay. You’ve spent nights together before, parting in the morning to fulfill your separate duties. But will he allow himself to leave from your room? To allow the possibility of someone seeing?

“You’re so warm.” Caressing his back, you sigh, drinking in the intimacy of this moment. He’s still inside you, flaccid and just resting. Your combined slick begins to drip from your folds but neither of you seem to care enough to clean it up, not yet.

After a few minutes pass, John releases a saddened breath, muffling into your shoulder, “Should I go?”

“No,” Instantly, you’re tightening your hold on him. “Stay.”

A cocksure grin forms on his face from that, eyes drooping with exhaustion. “You want me to stay?”

“Yes,” It comes out as a small giggle, fingers now running through his hair. “Stay, John.”

#John Price #Captain John Price #John Price you #John Price x reader #John Price x female reader #John Price smut #Call of Duty #Call of Duty fanfiction

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sepublic · 1 year

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Post-Hoot with Dana Terrace!

Dana’s put over 200 hours into games she’s missed since the finale; Octopath Traveler, Little Nightmares, etc. Sarah Nicole-Robles cried harder than she ever did when she said I learned a language I’ll never forget, a whole chapter of my life is over, during the King-ceanera. She said the line once and was suddenly sobbing because of how meta it was.

Rebecca has a ‘sona during the bit with Barcus in the epilogue sequence. Cissy also cried when watching with her family, her kids asked her about it; Sarah was really excited as she watched the finale.

No sequel happening, but we can always hope; Dana would like to do more, but Disney owns the IP and needs to give them permission. Dana knew the prequel line in the finale was ham-fisted as hell but still went with it because she was pissed (she said Fuck to express her rage). Rebecca went back to the Anger phase of grief after watching the finale after realizing what they missed, but Sarah was also in Acceptance because it was hard to regret something that ended so well.

Dana doesn’t cry that much, but TJ’s remix in the soundtrack made her cry. Dana brought back everyone for BBBYYYEEEEEEE, noting this was every character’s last line, and wished Hooty had more lines. Alex improvised a cut line after the Bye with Hooty expressing appreciation for the finale and readiness for his spin-off.

Dana won’t say much in hopes she’ll get to do more for TOH in the future; A Youtube reviewer (shoutout to all, Zachary Ax, Man of a Thousand Thoughts, Rebecca herself), the Third Bill got it right on Hooty, and Dana won’t be more specific about that.

They found out about the shortening during S2; They had an ending in mind that Dana had in mind since development, but it needed too much setup and so they couldn’t pull it off. All of Season 2A was written before knowing the cancellation; Follies at the Coven Day Parade was the first episode fully written knowing the show was shortened, hence the tonal change. The Galdorstones was an arc Dana planned more on, as well as the Coven Heads; Bat Queen; It was a hard situation choosing what to leave out.

There weren’t whole episodes written that had to be trashed; Just one-sentence ideas on a whiteboard never fully outlined or scripted. But Dana is still happy with what came out, because it was pretty damn cool.

Rebecca Rose once saw someone with a King sweatshirt like hers at Disneyland and said hi, but they just side-eyed her and didn’t respond; Despite this, Rebecca hopes they had a happy day and believes they were just having a bad time. Sarah joked about not being so forgiving.

String Bean’s inspiration: Owlbert is in the title of the show, String Bean indeed was there the whole time! The S wasn’t completely intentional at first, but Dana flipped the logo around and figured it out. When making the first episode, the logo wasn’t finalized. They always liked the idea of Luz being connected to snakes, it’s what she brought to school and they liked her reclaiming something she terrorized her classmates with. The Snake-Shifter idea specifically; Zach Marcus just said “Snake-Shifter” as they brainstormed ideas and Dana, being a sucker for lame puns, was sold.

That was indeed Dana being represented as a student in the epilogue! She was Beastkeeping and Oracle; Dana can see the future of the show, and really likes animals. Raine’s palisman was indeed hidden within the violin’s design; Hunter and Dell worked to fix the palismen after Raine broke it trying to stop Belos. The violin is more akin to the staff, anyhow. Dana considered responding to a question about general Caleb, Evelyn, and Flapjack lore, but Sarah insisted she stay silent in case they get to answer it as an actual story later.

Dana liked to think while writing Thanks to Them; No, Evelyn’s spirit isn’t in Flapjack. But to Philip, he saw Flapjack as the culmination of the corruption in his brother Caleb; He saw Flapjack, if it weren’t for YOU. You can see a hint of it in Masha’s story, Evelyn entices Caleb with Flapjack, who was Caleb’s introduction to magic. Evelyn was probably disguised as a human, and trusted Caleb for seeming reasonable and less violent. Perhaps like Dog owners passing each other by and suddenly becoming friends over this.

Evelyn and Caleb’s relationship was sweet, from platonic curiosity to romantic. Eda doesn’t know she’s descended from them, nor does Hunter; And Dana has more to say, but will keep it hidden. Luz will stay the majority of her stay in the isles as she goes to college. Camila bought the shack leading to the human world, which allowed Luz to visit during holidays, weekends, etc.

They never got to explore it, but it could’ve originally been the home of Philip and Caleb, long abandoned; Eda emerges after discovering the portal. In the next thirty years, she fixes up the shack as she builds the Owl House. Dana also advised fans to google Death of the Author, since she’s technically no longer working on the show, and thus gives permission for fans to write their own answers.

Eda became the Owl Lady before Owlbert, due to the curse; They planned to do an episode where Eda learned palismen carving with Dell, and how Eda reclaimed the Owl identity to carve Owlbert. Dana stills has the outline of that episode in her head…

According to Rebecca, Caleb and Philip’s graves were in the basement of the shack, based on this church in New Haven Dana passed by every day on her way to school (Gravesfield is based on some places in Connecticut). However, Dana realized the graves didn’t fit into the story. They also had an ‘original’ Belos design for him taking over animals. Marina Gardner did some amazing Belos designs, and Thanks to Them alluded to it.

The Portal’s eye comes from the Titan’s missing eye!!! Hunter is bisexual, Willow is pansexual, this is how Dana always wrote and imagined them in her mind, but it’s not explicitly stated so technically it’s more headcanon. Dana noted how some people just picked it up. Dana likes to think Amity and Lilith rekindled their student-mentor relationship. Having worked in the library, Amity was interested in Lilith’s knowledge of history. Dana suggested to Zarya(?) from the design team to add notes to Lilith’s museum blueprints. A helicopter passed over and they joked it was Disney trying to stop spoilers.

Cissy only got her lines and didn’t know any other details about the finale, to Dana’s surprise; Dana explained that people not getting a full script is due to the pandemic. Before quarantine, actors would get the full script. They have to rely on Eden Riegel and Dana for context a lot. Bosook Coburn spoiled Luz’s death to Rebecca Rose during the celebration party. They came up with a lot of designs for dying Luz, trying to figure out how they can hollow out her head how much. Dana mentions it’s up to the showrunner to show how much they want to the actors.

Thanks to Sarah, they kept in Luz saying her own SFX during her fight with Eda in O Titan, Where Art Thou; She heard someone do it as part of the mock script and wanted it. When Dana voiced Eda and Luz at the end, Dana was crying. There’s a recording of Season 2B and Season 3 of Dana doing a voice-over of the script to get approved by executives.

Dana clarified everyone would’ve had more of a chance to talk with each other, such as Hunter and Amity; Hunter would’ve talked to Vee, as well as more human realm kids, literally everyone would’ve had a little more time with each other. Dana loves Luz and Hunter’s sibling dynamic. Dana was sorry they couldn’t have Luz and Raine hang out, but they had the Hexsquad storyline. Luz finished high school in the human world, with the renewed motivation that she’ll go back to the isles. Knowing she has a safe space outside of high school made it more bearable, as was the case for Dana growing up.

Cissy brought up Gus’ hair in the epilogue, which she loved; Emmy Cicierga did the design for Gus and Raine. Harpy Lilith was by Emmy; Dana did Emira, Eberwolf, and Skara’s timeskip designs. The name of the Titan is unpronounceable for humans.

Dana can’t say much about the Archivists; The Collector never had a flash-forward design, as they age much more slowly than everyone else. Maybe the Collector got just a tiny bit taller. The idea of the Collector came from creepy dolls, as well as a nightmare; John Bailey Owen had a google folder filled with cool references of creepy dolls with a starry aesthetic, liminal minimalist nightmare-scape. They knew who the Collector was gonna be, what role they’d play, but the vibe still needed to be decided.

Dana confirmed the Collector was always a part of the show before the shortening, and they solidified their placement after the announcement. The Collector has indeed stayed connected with the others, visits occasionally. Dana has seen fan comics on this and teared up.

Hooty doesn’t have to be vacated from the Owl House if he doesn’t want to; When the door isn’t active, Hooty could be present. The new portal can probably fold up, and Hooty is busy as a curator for Hooty’s new museum.

Dana said Raine and Eda’s business is their business; Not all love stories end in marriage. It’s their thing and it doesn’t diminish any love, but they do live in the Owl House together (Raine moved in).

Mattholomule getting a palisman is something Zach Marcus can answer, since he made the character and Dana respects the lore he made. It’s hard to say for Dana if Vee and Masha are dating, since Masha didn’t show up in the finale, but Vee definitely has a crush on them. Again, Dana encourages the Death of the Author approach, if the headcanon makes you happy.

Alador and Odalia got officially divorced after the finale, and the kids happily lived away from her. They might visit her if they have the energy, but also recognize she’s a toxic influence they can cut off at any point. Dana gave a shoutout to Rachel McFarlane’s voice acting, praising her performance for Odalia.

In regards to the tower King was born in, Dana has an answer; It was related to a character we all know, who now may have amnesia.

There was a plan to explore Gus and Willow’s glowing eyes, and do it for other characters; Amity wasn’t going to have that, strong emotions are indeed connected to magic. It was mostly a worldbuilding magic rule they could’ve expanded on, that Dana wishes she did early in the story.

In the boards, Dawn Han(?) did Clouds on the Horizon, and did the scene of Amity and the twins hiding in the factory as their parents talk about the Abomatons, Alador is worried since it seems like a tad much. Alador had T-rex arms in the storyboard, and it reminded Dana of Remy from Ratatouille, so when they got to the scene of them looking into Alador’s lab, Ratador was drawn in his place as a joke. Dana laughed so hard she decided to keep it in, with Dana handwaving it as Alador’s palisman.

According to Dana, a show should be appreciated for as it is; But the other way to enjoy it, under the context it was made, is also important to her; Both ways are valid. It was easier for Sarah to voice depressed Luz since she was also depressed. The writers preferred to put their feelings into the show, VS a more happy-go-lucky approach as others did; It was kind of dark for a bit, especially during quarantine. Sarah felt her own experience validated with Luz’s depression, but she and Dana appreciated the balance of having a happy ending too.

What made the crew hopeful was knowing the characters would always have a happy ending; Luz could continue her studies in full-force, a new family. They KNEW it would end happy. Dana acknowledged how the fandom misinterpreted “I hate the term happy endings,” and Sarah knew about the quincenera when asked during previous Post-Hoots, but couldn’t answer.

Rebecca commissioned 3D-printed Funko Pops of S2A Lilith and S1 Luz, and gave them to the others as gifts; Rebecca didn’t know about Avi’s appearance until two days before the Post-Hoot, otherwise she would’ve had a Funko of Raine made. Dana’s stand for Luz had to be made with painter’s tape (she appreciated it) due to Rebecca running out of the other kind, and planned to place it beside her Peabody award. Elizabeth Grullon, Camila’s VA, had to call her mom in the middle of a session to translate her line about maduros into English.

Cissy clarified this wasn’t intended to be the final Post-Hoot! And the video was ended with a BBBBYYYEEEEE!!!!!

#the owl house #dana terrace #caleb wittebane #evelyn clawthorne #boiling isles titan #edalyn clawthorne #eda clawthrone #raine whispers #raeda #palismen #the owl house hunter #willow park #bisexual #pansexual #post Hoot

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luvrxbunny · 4 months

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mini blurbs ─ ★ joel miller x f! reader

a/n: so many joel thoughts! how could i ever take the time to make a blurb for each of them!!? 😱

wc: 1k

warnings: 18+ MNDI, a few handjobs, some piv

-> you waking joel up with a handjob, it’s early so he’s sensitive, emotionally and physically, moaning and squirming. he keeps looking at you with this insanely fond look, something about it makes him look so soft. he also won’t shut up about how he feels. and he says it with so much force, willing you to believe him. “i love you, baby” “l-look at me? i love you so fuckin’ much.” “y’makin’ me feel so good. y’feel like heaven, my fuckin’ angel.”

-> joel fucking you relentlessly, and brutally because he needs it. you’re a good girl, you take it ofc. he’s grunting and groaning gruffly, barely talking aside to say “take it” or the occasional “just like that” but once he cums he’s instantly back to his usual, soft and loving self. “are you okay, baby?” “m’sorry, was i too rough?” “took it like such a good girl though, so perfect f’me”

-> you being unable to jerk joel off while he’s standing because his knees buckle and he can’t help folding in on himself or leaning into you, causing him to slip from your grasp and the same goes for going down on him— when although even when he’s seated he either cages your body in his completely, hunched over your head like he’s worshipping your mouth, or he’s spread out over the bed like he’s the god. (he is)

-> joel needing you from the second he comes home but still trying to make small talk. like he walks in and you hear him take a sharp breath once he lays eyes on you. his fists ball up and he’s so tense you can almost see him shaking as he takes a deep breath. you see movement around his crotch before he’s turning around to put his things away. “so h-how was your day? good, i’m hopin’. ” you entrain him even though you know he’s just trying not to seem desperate. “yea it was good, babe” he smiles. “are— are you tired..? or anythin’?” you make it a point to look in his eyes with a smirk. “never too tired for my favorite guy”

-> joel awkwardly thanking you after the post sex glow has worn off. he’s given you aftercare, cleaned you up and all that. as you guys are cuddling he starts to feel like he needs to do more so he just “thank you, baby. that— that was incredible. i— thank you.” you start giggling at him and he knows he’s being awkward so he gets all red and blushy, hiding his face in the back of your neck while telling you to shut up

-> just all the faces he would make while trying to hold his moans in. like when you guys first start getting sexual he’s still nervous so he tries to keep quiet. his brows furrowed, or tilted up. his eyes shut, rolled back, or fluttering while they try their best to stay on you. his lips bitten, pursed or sucked in. i think his hands would be everywhere too, covering his mouth, stroking over his beard, covering his eyes, running through his hair.

-> joel grunting, whining, and moaning lewdly above you as he fucks into you with the same neediness he’s been giving for the past 35 mins. falling into your neck and muttering “mm not yet. not yet. fuck” until you pull him away and question what he’s saying. maybe he has wetness on his lashes, from overstimulation, pleasure, or love “i don’t—“ he breathes out a sharp, shaky breath. “don’t wanna cum yet.” he lets out a shaky, broken breath. “you’re so good.”

-> the first time you get joel off in public he thinks you’re just trying to tease him but he’s too sensitive to handle it. so he warns you, “you—“ a shaky breath in and out as his hand comes up to cover his mouth. “you’re gonna make me cum” a smile spreads over your face but you keep looking forward, as his breathing speeds rapidly. you can see him glancing over at you every few seconds. “you— baby.” a whine almost slips out. “i’m- you’re gonna make me— i’m— fuck. i’m- i’m gonna c- holy fuck. please.” he whines and you hear his breathing become erratic.

-> the confused look on his face when you make him cum much much harder than he expected. i imagine you’re jerking him off, he’s sitting against the headboard with his arm around you. he warns you that he’s going to cum, his hips start bucking and his lip gets bitten by his teeth. he’s spilling over your fist in no time but once he expects his orgasm to stop, it just builds up to a new level of pleasure. his mouth drops open and his brows furrow. his eyes cast downward, watching your hand move over him and the way he’s coating you. then his gaze shifts to you and his expression looks like you’ve offended him before melting into one that makes you think he’s going to cry. that’s what let’s you know you’ve done a good job.

-> he begins to be able to tell when you’re gonna make him cum really hard and he starts to have a tell tale saying that alerts you. you’re not even sure if he realizes that he says it every time. his eyes shut and he runs his hand through his hair. he starts to shake his head lightly like he’s realized what’s going to happen and his hand slides down to your thigh, gripping the fabric of your pants before rubbing his hand over it, trying to soothe himself. “i’m—“ his head keeps moving back and forth as speaks. “it’s gonna get everywhere.” he groans under his breath, the sounds leaning a bit farther on the whiny side before he attempts to speak again. his hips shuffle upwards, sinking himself further into the chair while bucking himself into your fist. he gazes up at you with sex hazed eyes and confesses “m’gonna cum everywhere” before biting his lip harshly and burying his face in your neck, where his groans vibrate against your skin.

-> joel not being able to look at you while you guys are having sex. he’s so much more sensitive than you that every little thing pushes him closer to the edge, so it he wants to last long enough for you to cum on him, there ends up being a point where he has to fuck into you with his eyes cast to the side or shut tightly. he’ll be looking down at where the two of you meet before deciding he wants to see his pretty girl again. once he reaches you face there’s a shock of pleasure in his stomach before flowing down to his cock. he grips your jaw and forces you to face the opposite direction he turns his head, like he can’t even have you looking at him when he’s like this. he groans into his shoulder like he’s angry and mutters “too fuckin’ pretty. this shit ain’t fuckin’ fair.”

-> when he’s close, instead of telling you to stop, slow down, or distracting you with kisses, he tells you to “be gentle” he says it repeatedly, with hisses and whines in between. the closer he gets he starts to just “gentle, gentle, gent- oh sweetheart—”

-> he gets turned on by how turned on you get when he tells you that he’s close. he sees that light spark in your eyes when he tells you that he’s gonna cum and it makes him pulse even more intensely. like he could be on the outskirts of his orgasm but once he sees your reaction to his confession he’s got two seconds, tops, before he’s spilling all over you.

-> once you guys start getting sexual, it’s very easy to tell what he does or doesn’t like, what turns him on and what doesn’t. because he breaks out in goosebumps every time you give him even a bit of arousal. you could cook him a meal and when you come back he’ll have goosebumps spread all across his arms, all the way up to his biceps, even some across his neck. he tries to play it off as if you can’t see the way he’s fattening up in his jeans.

-> (for poc) joel loves the contrast of your skin to his cum. the first time he cums on you he has to have a serious pro and con session as to whether he likes cumming in you or on you more. he’s embarrassingly hard within the next minute after he cums on you. he’s just staring at it, maybe smearing it around a bit before jerking off right above you. he probably hasn’t even explained himself to you. he’s just been in a trance since his ropes landed on you.

-> you’re the first time he hears the phrase “cum for me.” and he loses his mind. it’s the loudest you’ve ever heard him and he cums so hard some lands on his chin. he spends the next few minutes shaking from the force of his orgasm and trying his hardest to regulate his breathing.

OKAY IM DONE!!!! pls show this some love guys!! it’s so long i feel like it should go in my main masterlist 💀

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atinyniki · 4 months

Text

happy new year!

group: stray kids !

pairing: idol!bangchan x f!reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

warnings + additional info: reader is referred to as y/n, established relationships, fighting, reader flinches bc of chan, reader is neglected, chan says rlly mean things, reader is pretty mean too, takes place on new years/new years eve, mentions of physical abuse, kissing, crying, kiss and make up (literally), chan is kinda mean to his manager (that he hates), petname, mentions of cheating, cheating accusations.

authors note: two posts in one day hell yeah ! this is also not proofread. english is not my first language, so please excuse any grammatical or spelling errors. happy reading :)

wc: 1524

“seriously?!”

he can only bring himself to nod, evidently a little upset at your yelling.

you both go quiet for a moment, until you break it.

“chan.”

he looks up at you again, playing with his fingers in his lap. “hm?”

“are you cheating?”

“what?”

“are you cheating on me?”

“n-no! how could you even… ask that?”

you roll your eyes at him. “you havent been home in so fucking long, chan. and now you’re leaving again and it… it’s just not fair!”

“it’s my job, y/n.”

“your job shouldn’t require you to be away from me every day! you just got back”, you yell even louder.

he knows you’re frustrated, but he’s starting to get a headache. “y/n—“

“plus, even while you are here, you’re never with me… you’re always sleeping and you never talk to me.”

and then it just snaps.

“well, what if i’m tired y/n? what if i’m tired of running around all day with shitty schedules? what if i’m tired of having to exert my fucking voice all the time? what if i’m tired of you being so fucking clingy with me? i need rest!”, he yells back.

tears begin to well up in your eyes, and the words lump in your throat. despite that, you still manage to say something.

“am i really that clingy just for wanting the attention that i deserve? i’m your girlfriend for gods sake!”

he gets up off the bed, lightly stomping towards you. you notice the upset look on his face, red, teary eyes, and his hands are clenched into fists at his sides.

you scoff at the sight, “what, you’re gonna fight me now? do it. hit me.”

though you act confident, you gulp, scared for what’s to come. he reaches a hand up to cup your face, but you shut your eyes, flinching and turning away.

there was no impact.

you turn back to chan, his face completely streaked with tears. “did… did you think i was really—“

he cuts himself off, unable to say anymore.

you trip over your words, you know you’ve hurt him now. “i- i mean… i don’t see another reason your clench your fists. i just thought that—“

“clenching my fists eases the pain of my heart. that’s why i do it so much.”

“o-oh”

an uncomfortable silence passes between you two.

“um… just- come to me when you’ve calmed down. i’ll be in the living room.”

“o-okay.”

he makes his way out the room, his fists still clenched. you hear the pitter patter of his tears hitting the hardwood floor, and you just break.

you’ve done it. you’ve made him cry.

what kind of a girlfriend are you?

you finally let everything sink in. you sit down on your bed, wrapping yourself in the blanket, but it smells too familiar. it smells like chan.

chan will be leaving you again in two days. you don’t want to think about it, but you can’t stop. this is what he wanted after all. to think about it. to calm down. but you can’t.

not after what you said to him. not after what he said to you. your breaths become labored, gasping for air in between sobs. it gets painful, you can’t inhale anything anymore.

you’re stuck, you can’t breathe, but you’re being too loud. so you slap your hands over your mouth, hoping that he won’t hear, and you stuff your face into a pillow, body convulsing with every breath.

you clench the bedsheets, just needing to hold onto something.

chan was right. it helps.

he is not doing too well without you either. he hasn’t been able to stop crying since you left the room, trying to distract himself with the future next.

he turns on the tv, finally finding the countdown to new years. that’s when he realizes how late it is. how long it’s been since your argument.

it’s five minutes till midnight.

the next year.

a fresh start.

but it won’t be the same without you by his side. he tugs at his shirt, sobbing into the cushion even more. he’s careful not to make a sound, not wanting you to feel even worse than you already feel.

before he knows it, there’s only two minutes left. he has to apologize. he has to make it right. there’s no way in hell that he’s ending the year like this.

he walks over to your shared room, knocking softly.

one minute.

the doorknob turns, and you’re forced to face him again. it’s just the consequences of your actions.

your pillow is soaked with your tears, as is his cushion that’s still laying on the couch. your hands are clenched into fists beside you, just as his are now. your bloodshot eyes stare directly into his, and it’s like looking at a mirror.

twenty seconds.

he walks over to the bed, eyes flickering between the wet pillow and your puffy face. his heart clenches at the sight, and he digs his nails even harder into his palm.

still wordless, he kneels down in front of you, where your legs are hanging off the bed. he’s now level with your face, making him far more intimidating.

five.

a tear leaves his eye.

four.

he smiles softly at you.

three.

he glances at his phone to check the time, hand reaching for yours. you comply of course, interlacing your fingers in a desperate attempt to just feel him.

two.

he leans in closer to you, heart beating wildly in his chest. it feels like your first date all over again, the nervous feeling in his chest.

one.

using his other hand, he cups your face and pushes your foreheads together, smiling even wider when you don’t flinch away from him this time.

zero.

he steals your lips in a breathtaking kiss, and you just melt into it. your hands find his face, but before you can do anything, he picks you up, lips still attached to yours.

he sits down on the bed and pulls you further into his lap so that you’re straddling him, finally breaking away from the kiss with tears in his eyes.

“happy new year, babe…”

even more tears escape from your eyes now, but you just can’t help them. you hug chan even tighter now, scared that if you let go, he’ll be gone.

“you waited?”

“of course i did. i couldn’t leave you alone.”

you kiss him again, whispering little love confessions to him as you do. “happy new year…”

he knows the elephant in the room still needs to be addressed, and sighs. “i’m sorry for calling you clingy. i didn’t mean it. i really love the attention you give me, and i truly wouldn’t trade it for anything”

“i’m sorry for yelling at you… i should’ve handled it better. thank you for being patient with me.”

“you know i would never… um- do something like that to you… right?”

“i know chan, i was just scared… it was in the heat of the moment. i’m sorry for not understanding.”

he hugs you tightly, “i love you so much, y/n. you’ve changed my entire life, and now i actually look forward to it. i look forward to my schedules, my comebacks, even waking up… because i know it’s for you.”

you can’t even say anything, scared another sob will come out, so you take some time to process his words, kissing slowly at his neck.

“i love you too, channie. thank you for being here for me, and thank you for loving me. i know i can be so difficult and just a lot at times, but it means a lot that you try to make time for me.”

he smiles, kissing you again and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “oh my baby… i’ve missed you.”

you’ve never heard this type of emotion in his words before, so you just know his words have a different weight to them this time.

“i missed you too. wondered how i was gonna sleep without you, knowing that you were hurt and—“

“shh baby… it’s okay. i’m here now, yeah?”

“but you’re gonna be gone again in two days”, you jokingly whine.

he smiles, grabbing his phone from the end of the bed, and he calls someone. you’re not sure who, but it rings for a while until they answer.

“hello?”

“i’m not going to be there for the interview.”

“what? why?! we’ve been planning this for months.”

“okay, well my girlfriend was planning on having me to herself for months, but we don’t all get what we want, do we? i’m spending time with her now.”

“can we reschedule?”

“we’ll talk later.”

he hangs up, and you’re a little stunned by the coldness of his voice. you know he hates his manager, but that much?

“not anymore, y/n.”

“i love you, dumbass”

he giggles, “i love you too, angel.”, he says in a sing-song voice while bopping your nose.

“angel? you’ve never… called me that before…”

he hums, giggling again and quickly kissing you on the cheek.

“new year, new name.”

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signed-loni · 11 months

Text

‼️MINORS DNI⚠️

Heeheehee

Regarding my post earlier..HERES THE FNAF SMUT

Things to know: HUMAN AU!!!!this is NSFW!!! Reader is submissive and a afab. There will b oral (reader receiving, Freddys part) creampie, (monty and freddy) roughness, degrading, blowjob,riding (montys part)(monty and freddy have a size kink. IM PUTTING MY FOOT DOWN-) WOW THATS A LOT..

ALSO!! These are gonna be they’re own stories. So no head canons. Also, WERE GETTING STRAIGHT TO THE POINT SO-

Nicknames: superstar, my love, slut, rockstar, whore, honey, baby, bitch

Freddy fazbear

You whined and moaned as the one and only freddy fazbear lapped endlessly at your folds. Hitting the best spots inside of you with his tongue, just to circle back to your clit. All the meanwhile pumping himself with his fist. You grabbed his hair and pushed down as you felt a coil in your stomach ready to burst any second, when he stopped.

You whined feeling the cold air from his room hit your cunt. “Freddyyyy!” Your whines were cut short when freddy locked his lips with yours, letting you taste yourself. Whilst making out with you, he ran his long shaft across your folds, making you moan and wriggle under him. He always felt so powerful when he was above you, you were so small compared to him, and he knew he could easily rip you in half with his cock. He never intends to though, unless you want him to of course.

He propped himself right outside your entrance, than looked up at you, eyes searching for consent before he went in. “Is this okay, superstar?” He asked “please..please freddy i need you in me.” With that, he slowly pushed in, careful not to hurt you. He heard your whines and mewls, already so fucked out for him and you’ve barely even started. He pushed in more, almost half way when tears threatened to spill. He stopped and said “are you okay, my love? We can stop at anytime if you wish” you moaned again, “its okay, freddy, please keep going” he pushed himself further in, and in a few seconds, he bottomed out, leaving you completely full, and a bulge in your stomach.

He stayed like that for a few minutes, letting you adjust to him, which was MUCH appreciated. Once he got the green light to move, he started his slow, steady thrusts. Making sure to not cause much pain. He heard you moans and whines and quickly locked lips with you again, moaning into the kiss himself, goddamn you were tight! He picked up the pace a bit, making you cry out with pleasure.

He was now slamming into you, thrusts sloppy and messy, wet kisses being placed everywhere. “Youre doing so well for me, superstar” Now, Freddy’s greedily chasing his own orgasm. The lewd sounds of your pussy squeezing him and his dick ramming into you were music to his ears. You felt the familiar coil building up in your stomach. Shouts of “gonnacumgonnacumgonnacum!!” Filled the room, and just like that, you came undone under him. Your walls squeezed and loosened around him, making him cry out. “Oh my gosh oh my gosh !” Following with milky white streams painting your walls.

Freddy and you slumped on his bed, him on top of you. He rubbed your stomach where the bulge was and kissed your neck, softly. “Are you okay superstar?” He asked, voice low and raspy, but filled with empathy. He removed his dick from inside you and watched the cum leak out, pushing it back in with his fingers. He stood up and went to the bathroom, running a hot bath for the two of you. He picked you up and put you on his lap, soothed by the water on his aching muscles. You sunk into him, fucked out. “I love you, superstar.” You turned around to face him, kissing his forehead. “I love you to, freddy”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Montgomery Gator

Monty gripped your hair as tight as he could, hearing your muffled sounds of you trying to take him in. “Thats my good slut, such a fucking whore for this cock, huh?” He moaned and growled, which made your core ache for some friction, rubbing your thighs together. Monty took a mental note for that, when you licked a long stripe up from under his shaft, right where that one specific vein was. He tried hard not to grab your head and just lose whatever restraint he had.

You were trying to keep a pace, not fast enough to hurt, but not slow enough to make monty fall asleep. That would be embarrassing…Anyhoo!

Monty was trying not to lose all self control, if he still had some, but the way you bobbed your head, clearly knowing he was holding back, even if it was slightly, he couldn’t help but grab your head and start violently fucking your mouth. Making you gag and moan on his long shaft only make him even more riled up.

You hallowed your cheeks while monty brutally fucked your mouth dry. Pulling your hair, growling so your other bandmates in the other room could definitely hear you. His bass and your drumsticks somewhere on the ground, your black and lavender band jacket somewhere tossed onto the floor also.

Monty thrusted one, two, three times, and completely released all of his seed into your mouth. Painting it a pretty white, leaving your core dripping and aching for something, anything.

Monty has fucking STAMINA. And what i mean is, he could last all night just doing this and fucking you without getting tired if he wanted to. He knew you ached for something, and what kind of boyfriend and coworker would he be if he left it to yourself to get that oh so-needed-friction?

Monty picked you up and placed you right onto his already hard cock, he wasn’t going to leave it entirely up to you to get the pleasure you wanted, but you were going to still have to work.

He sat you on his dick, and looked at you expectantly. “Whatcha waitin for rockstar? Get to ridin. I bet you want this cock in you, moaning like a bitch in heat while i fucked your face. Come on, i know ya want to.” And just like that, you started riding him. Definitely not sensual, though. You were shaking, trembling even for his dick. You got straight to work, making sure to pleasure not only yourself, but him to.

Your tits bouncing in his face, all the while your mumbling and moaning on his shaft, chasing your orgasm as the coil in your stomach tightened. Reaching your hand down to circle your clit. “Ah -fuck- look at you, trying so desperately to -mngh- get that oh so wanted orgasm of yours.” Monty leaned into your ear, voice low and raspy, he said “go ahead rockstar*pant* you earned it.” And with that, you rode him until all you could see was stars. “Fuck! Monty oh my god!!” “Shitshitshit, I’m gonna come” monty roared “come with me, baby. Come on i know you can do it, you’ve done it so many other times, i know how much you love this cock, so come with me”

Only a few more thrusts up from him and a few bounces from you, and you both came at the same time. You collapsed onto monty, breathing heavy and trembling. Monty picked you up, dick still inside you, and walked to get some tissues. Carefully, he set you back down on his bed, cleaning you and himself up with the tissues he brought back. Walking away for a second to bring you and him comfy clothes to sleep in. Putting them on himself and you. Putting you on his chest while he listened for you breathing, you listening for his to.

You looked up to monty, and lovingly sighed at him. “Thank you, monty. I love you” you said “I love you to, rockstar. And anytime, ya know i love yer pussy.” You tiredly chuckled and fell asleep on his chest, feeling happy and full.

#fnaf smut #fnaf security breach #fnaf #glamrock freddy #glamrock freddy x reader #glamrock freddy smut #mongomery gator #montgomery gator x reader #monty gator #montgomery gator smut #montgomery #montgmery gator x reader smut

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yourgentlegirlfriend · 1 year

Text

IM UNSHADOWBANNWD AH. I’ve been so excited to post this story it’s been in the works and it’s the THREE HUNDRED follower special first of all i do not deserve you guys at all thank you for all the support you show me i hope you enjoy this as much as i did hehe MUAH

DISCLAIMER: This is an 18+ blog! If you are underaged or don’t have an age indicator in your bio, please don’t interact!

afab reader x Pornstar! ID Leon

Warnings: Smut- just pure porn with a plot. PORNSTAR LUIS TOO HEHE.Slight (very) slight mentions of being obsessed/ watching reader, leon eats pussy (ofc he does) and fucks reader stupid.

Word count: 3,169

———-

knock knock

“What?”

Why did he sound so annoyed? Your fist stalled against the door as you paused your knocking.

“Um- Greg told me to introduce myself. Sorry if you’re busy.”

Just try and sound sweet, don’t be a pushover. You had barely just stepped onto the set, still in the clothes you wore to your psychology class. The room ran silent, your eyes reading over his name on his door continuously before it swung up, your hair moving from the gust of wind.

His arms were so toned, his hand gripping the handle of the door knob as he leaned against the door frame. Incredibly toned, his shirt off and his hair laying against his face so perfectly. His steely eyes scanned you up and down, a chuckle rumbling through his chest as he saw you holding your Psych 200 book.

“Leon.”

He mumbled as he watched you scan over his arms. He was cocky; you could tell. Before you could even introduce yourself, the door slammed in your face, your hands gripping your bag as you sighed to yourself, shaking your head in disbelief.

———

“She shot with Sera like a month ago. The video is still up on the front page too.”

Leon’s makeup artist spoke as she rubbed the beauty blender against his forehead. Leon stared at himself in the mirror; he felt terrible for slamming the door in your face. He really did. He has been in the industry for too long, and he has never had anyone come and formally introduce themselves before filming, so seeing you stand there not being able to say a complete sentence to his face just irritated him. He was also just surprised you didn’t know him; he owned this whole set, his manager is the one who makes his booking, or he definitely wouldn’t have picked you of all people.

———

After shooting with Luis, the two of you became very close friends; when you got to your small studio room, you threw your bag and book down, dialing his number on your phone as you pulled your laptop out, sitting on the desk.

“Hello?”

Luis' voice rang through your ear as you sighed in frustration, instantly communicating that something was wrong.

“He slammed a door in my face when I tried to say hi to him, Luis.. why does he have such a big ego? Sure is heavy for a man I've never even seen before.”

Your fingers typed his name into the search bar, clicking on the first link to come up as you listened to Luis ramble about how this is just how it’s going to be and how lucky you were to get him as your first shoot, your mouth ran dry seeing the cover photo of one of Leon’s hundreds of videos, his cock barely pushing into some girl, his hair covering his face so perfectly and his lips parted so slightly.

“Mama, what did I tell you? Do not google.”

Luis scolded as he listened to you close the laptop.

“I don’t know, Luis, maybe I should just leave- I have to go; makeup’s here.”

Hanging up on him because of the slight knock on the door. It must have been noticeable that you were in your head, the pretty makeup artist wiping at your cheeks with a light bronzer to grab your attention.

“You don’t need much makeup, and you’re naturally very beautiful.”

She smiles softly as she reaches for the mascara. You smile back at her as she tilts your head around.

“That’s very sweet of you, thank you.”

You laugh as she turns your chair around, smiling as she pushes your hair from your face.

“Gorgeous, they want you in this. Whatever you wear under is completely up to you.”

The beautiful woman rambled as she pulled the light blue sundress from the bag, handing it to you. No matter what they said to you, you couldn’t get out of your own head.

————

The wall had a weird pattern. It wasn’t like standard white paint but was super grainy, you sat further back, watching as the director checked all of his cameras, fixing the lights, and reading over signed paperwork. They never handed you a script, though, which left you lost. Luis’ crew had a script. It was easy to remember, but maybe only Leon had one. Right when you think about him, he comes walking in from the main door, a smug smile on his face as he grabs hands to shake. If he weren’t in the industry he would make a wonderful bodyguard with broad shoulders, strong arms, and confidence. He wore a black long-sleeve shirt accompanied by a pair of dark denim jeans. It sucked; he was such an asshole, he was handsome. It suddenly made you feel so self-conscious, remembering the cover photo you had seen on your laptop. You specifically specialized in actual content, genuine emotions, and honest reactions, and the people love it. You started on your own, only fans, to be specific, and it makes you laugh out of embarrassment when it’s brought up. Your eyes follow Leon as he grabs a cup of water, leaning on the table as he talks to the makeup artist, who, for some reason, points over to you. Your eyes drop to your lap, your legs crossed as you play with the soft material of the dress. Your heart began to race as you saw his shoes directly in front of you. His presence was so heavy. Your gaze shifted up to him, his hand touching the arm of your chair.

“Sorry for slamming the door on you, I’ve had a long week, and I forgot I was shooting today.”

Hearing him talk in a complete sentence now was weird, his voice rough yet deep. You nodded your head as you shrugged.

“I can’t blame you; I would slam the door on me too.”

You smile, but it quickly drops once you notice what he said; how could he forget he has a shot? He just called you easily forgettable. Leon’s eyes trailed down to your thighs, smiling to himself as your leg bounced up and down. The two of you stood in your silence before Greg walked over towards you two, grabbing your shoulders.

“Leon, Y/N, Y/N, Leon. I know this piece of work doesn’t introduce himself for shit.”

He laughed, pointing towards the bed in the middle of the room; Leon’s eyes squinted at the minor insult before both of your eyes shifted to the bed. He had explained some shitty plan that had the two of you bored. He sighed before he looked at Leon, touching his arm.

“Just do whatever you want. Why do you pay me?”

His foot turned to walk away from you two as Leon still stared at the bed in the middle of the room. He turned back to you, putting his hand out, your eyebrow-raising in confusion up at him.

“Leon Kennedy.”

Your hand pulled from your lap, shaking at his, both of your grip on each other strong as you nodded your head.

“Just call me Y/N.”

You spoke sheepishly before he helped you up from the chair. Was he going to listen to what the director said? This was an extensive movie set, the bedroom, and then the small room apart from the bedroom that seemed to resemble a hallway.

“I know we stepped off on the wrong foot, but can you trust me? Just for the next hour?”

Leon leaned down to your ear as the two of you walked towards the hallway set. You nodded your head as the lighting changed to a darker yellow.

Leon’s head turned towards the camera as he put his hand up

“No cuts.”

He yelled out as he turned back to you.

—————-

Felt awful slamming the door on her pretty face.

Leon’s grip on the door handle grew tighter by the second as you rambled on about trying to introduce yourself. The room shook as he slammed the door, a strained groan leaving his lips as he looked down at his sweatpants. You had knocked at a horrible time, Leon’s laptop on display with your video with Luis flashing on his screen. He was obsessed with you. Obsessed with how your lips parted before you moaned or how easily sensitive you were. You didn’t need to introduce yourself. He already knew. So when he called his agent asking him to call your agent to see if you were booking, he was more than excited when they said you were open. He pumped himself for almost an hour, soft moans leaving his lips as his eyes squeezed shut, trying to think about how it would feel to have you squeezing around his cock.

———

“Action!”

Greg screamed, your eyelids heavy as you looked up at Leon. It was crazy how fast you could switch moods like that. Leon's hands were immediately all over you, pressing you into the wall by your waist as he hungrily peppered kisses against your jaw. And suddenly everything felt so much hotter? His hands dragged down your skin, and his lips burned into the soft skin of your neck, a whine leaving your lips as one of Leon’s hungry hands brought your leg to his waist.

“There you go, honey, relax for me..”

He mumbled into your skin as his hands lifted you into his arms. You were surprised at his strength as he held you with one hand, his other pushing the door open. He made you feel so small, throwing you down onto the plush mattress, your chest rising and falling as he softly nipped at your collarbones. You weren’t this nervous with Luis, your hands shaking as you pushed some hair from Leon’s face as he kissed the small space between your chest, his hands carefully rubbing up your thighs, his fingers resting against your stomach as he pushed himself down the bed. He needed more. The way you shook under him only encouraged him, his head nuzzling so perfectly between your thighs, smirking up at you as your eyes fluttered away from you, avoiding his stare. The pressure in his pants grew more intense, listening to the hiss pull through your teeth as he held onto the fabric of the sundress, licking over your pretty black panties.

“Damn..”

He grumbled as he lifted your hips, pulling the panties off you, bundling them up in his hand, and pushing them into his pocket as he moved the dress's material again. Scooting in closer to you, laying your knees over his shoulders as he looked up at you through heavy eyelids, his tongue laying a long strip over your folds. You couldn’t help but squirm in his grasp, his hands flying to your waist as you let out that shaky whine again that drove him fucking crazy. You tasted so unbelievably good on his tongue, his eyes rolling back as he hungrily lapped at your folds, pulling you closer like somebody was trying to take you from him. You were so dazed, your back arching as the cameraman squatted beside you and Leon, trying to get the perfect angle. You didn’t even care about his presence, caught up in crying out Leon's name as he repeatedly lapped at your clit, a loud whimper leaving your lips as you sat up, tugging at his hair. Leon could stay between your legs all day, but he needed more. He pulled away from your still dripping core, his face glistening with your slick as he took advantage of you sitting up, pulling the dress over your head. He couldn’t help but groan, finally seeing you bare beneath him, his hands pushing down against your chest, your back laying flat against the mattress yet again as you stared up at him, watching with sparkling eyes as he pulled his shirt over his head. He was sculpted so beautifully.. and it hit you, this is why he’s so popular, he’s a walking god.

“Been waiting on this part all fucking day..”

Leon’s lips parted as he yanked his jeans down, along with his boxers. He let out a sigh of relief as his cock pressed against his upper stomach, his hand reaching down to pump himself as he kicked his jeans off. And suddenly you felt like that girl on the cover of the video you saw, Leon’s hair sprawling perfectly against his face as he leans his body down, tearing your thighs open as his thumb lazily rubs small circles against your clit, smirking as you jolt forward. He continued to pump himself as he reached over, grabbing at the baby pink silk pillow at the edge of the bed before he shoved it under your hips. What a gentleman… you thought to yourself before your thighs were pressing together at the feeling of his cock pressing into you. He was so thick, your walls having a hard time adjusting to even just the tip of him. Leon’s lips pressed together as he let out a quiet “fuck..” His hands holding your legs open as he put more pressure on your clit, your core growing soaked again assisting him in sliding so perfectly into you. If he weren’t getting paid for this, he would’ve just came then and there, watching your pretty face scrunch up in painful pleasure, your legs kicking in his grasp slightly, and your painfully tight walls squeezing him.

“Fuck.. relax, baby, let me in.”

Leon whispered to you as you nodded your head, allowing your hips to rest against the pillow as he cooed down at you, leaning down against your much smaller form and forcing your legs over his broad shoulder. His thumb is still rubbing at your clit to ease the pain of him stretching you out. Leon’s jaw tightens as he pulls his hips back, letting out a shaky breath as he slams back into you, smiling as the small “Mmph!-“ Left your throat involuntarily. So fucking precious. Your soft thighs brushed against his chest as he fucked into you, his body weight lifting off you as he grabbed your ankles, staring down at where he pushed into you. Even the director looked surprised as Leon let out a long moan. It rumbled through his chest as he continued to fuck into you, your hands grabbing at the bed sheets. Leon mumbled a few words to himself before he grabbed at your body, flipping you on to your side as he threw the pillow to to other side of the room. He crawled behind you, lifting your leg before he pushed into you again, causing you to let out a loud whine, your head leaning back into his shoulder as his thrusts somehow became deeper- more meaningful. Leon reached over, pushing some hair from your face as he looked down at you.

“Come on, sweetheart, open your eyes for me.”

His lips touch the shell of your ear as he whispers to you. You were in bliss; he rubbed against your walls so perfectly it felt like your skin was on fire. Your eyes fluttered open, looking at the camera hazily. Leon shook his head, grabbing your jaw and turning your head towards him.

“Don’t look at them.. look at me… it’s just you and me right now, baby, just you and me.”

He groaned down to you as a loud cry of pleasure left your lips in response, your orgasm crashing through you. His hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you in closer to him as his hips snapped into you faster.

“That's a good fucking girl- mm.. fuck keep squeezing around me like that, honey..”

Leon felt his hips stuttering as he looked down at you, fucked out in his arms. A shaky moan left his lips as his hips stopped, his cum spurting into you, causing loud cries to leave your lips. Leon laid out of breath before he pulled out of you, smirking as he tilted his head at the cameraman to bring him in closer as he spread your lips, his fingers spreading your folds as his cum dripped out of you, the biggest smirk on his face.

“Cut!”

Was all you heard as the bed dipped beside you, your body still trying to recover as you sat up, your hair messy and your mascara running down the side of your face as Leon laughed, looking over at you.

“You okay, sugar?”

He asked sweetly as he grabbed a water, opening it before handing it to you, pushing some hair from your face as you took a small sip.

“Yeah.. just was a lot.”

You nod as he watches you; he clears his throat, handing you the sundress from the ground as he stands, pulling his pants up.

“Listen. I know you don’t know me, but, are you busy tonight? Let me take you out for dinner.”

He wasn’t asking; it was more of him letting you know he was. Your arms go through the holes before you look at him, nodding your head.

———-

You were the current talk of the industry.

Everyone was so curious how you broke Leon, making him utterly different from any video he’s ever shot.

Your face scrunches as you look at yours and Leon’s page on the front cover of the site, that smirk on his face as he spreads apart your folds. Your knee is pressed to your chest as you scroll through the comments, flinching slightly as you feel pressure at the top of your head.

“Morning.”

Leon grumbles as he sips his coffee after kissing the top of your head. His eyes follow yours, seeing the “uploaded two months ago” in the corner as he whistled

“Gonna win awards for that one.”

He winks at you, your arm swinging at him before you shut the laptop on the table.

#leon kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #luis sera smut #yourgentlegf #leon infinite darkness

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vmpiires · 4 months

Text

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎

„𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓”

𝐂𝐖;; 18+ content, MDNI. afab!reader, obsessive!choso, masturbation, mentions of sex (?), praise kink (?), no uses of y/n. not proofread so i apologize in advance for any mistakes if they’re made.

: ̗̀➛ art creds by;; MAPPA. dividers are not mine, if you own these, you may claim them in comments.

: ̗̀➛ WORD COUNT;; 2.3OK

dark mode recommended

do not copy this plot. i’m perfectly fine with inspirations but give creds. if this plot his stolen in any way, the post will be taken down and you will be blocked.

𝐃𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ✉️🖇️;; being on c.ai just gave me this idea. ya probably missed my smut so im back at it. here’s choso for everybody that asked (more of him coming up!) hope ya enjoyyyyy reblog to support meeeee and if you want more :D and merry christmas eve!!

another note: i was listening to “in for it” by tory lanez when writing this…i think it’s perfect. i was also listening to “from the start” by laufey…that inspired the plot also. also the (?) means that i listed the warning just in case it happens and i may change my mind mid story so still be cautious! (putting that in for my future stories) (some aspects inspired by: @chososdiscordkitten)

choso was lying on his bed and he was holding his phone. he was now looking over at his text messages and he saw that his “friend” was now texting him. that “friend” was you. he sighed softly and he put his phone down and let his hand travel down to between his legs.

he was already rubbing himself lightly ans slowly. he started to breathe in and out slowly. his body would become hot as he was thinking of you and how he wanted to have you back in his presence.

you and choso were really close. you met through his kid brother, yuji. the younger assumed that choso should try to go out and find himself some acquaintances to keep him occupied. it was also the right thing to do, considering that curses weren’t really accepted by society and he was a hybrid.

you both hit it off pretty quickly. you thought he was funny because of his awkwardness and tendency to get flustered every time you compliment him. he doesn’t hear those very often.

he had been thinking about all the different things he could say to you and he was just staring at your message with his thoughts swirling in his head like a storm. he also began to think of the possibility of you breaking his heart and the fact that you were probably talking to some other guy. you probably liked him better. he began thinking of how he can stop it before it starts. so you never leave him.

his fingers started to stroke his erection in a consistent rhythm and he was letting his thoughts takeover. he was imagining you with him and imagining you in a vulnerable position, wanting him and needing him

his strokes became faster and his breathing became more erratic, his body was starting to tense up as he couldn’t help but imagine you in every position. he let his mind become intoxicated by his lust and this sensation of losing control.

he was nearing the point of no return, he was taking heavy breaths and his body was tensing and relaxing in a consistent rhythm. he started to speak aloud and he would moan softly and he whispered your name under his breath, hoping no one can hear him.

he could feel himself getting close and his breathing was becoming faster and his voice now sounded like a growl as he let your name slip through his lips repeatedly. his breath was now hot and his body was tensing up and his fingers and fists were now clenching tightly as the sensation grew inside of him.

right before he could finish, he heard a knock on his door. choso sucked his teeth and covered himself with his blanket, slightly frustrated that he couldn’t completely satisfy himself without being interrupted. he would quickly try to slow his breathing before answering the door.

the door opens and yuji is standing there with an eager smile, “hey, did you wanna come to the mall with me and my friends later? i know it’s hot as hell out since it’s summer but we shouldn’t be inside all day.”

choso couldn’t see himself but he knew he was flustered and his chest was still moving up and down a bit quickly. it made yuji slightly suspicious.

“you sound outta breath, are you okay?”

“no—i mean, yes, i’m fine.” choso swallowed, running a hand through his hair. at this moment, choso didn’t have his hair up in his twintails like he normally did…part of that reason was because you mentioned that you liked him with his hair down and that he should wear that style a bit more often. it was also because he takes the rubber bands out of his hair after being out all day and wearing them as bracelets until the next time he had to leave the house.

“right,” yuji chuckled, “i’ll let you know when later if i’m still going.” the pink haired boy began to walk out of choso’s room but he quickly stopped him before the door closed.

“yeah?”

“is…you know who…gonna be there?” choso asked. the question alone made yuji smirk and lean against the doorframe in a goofy manner. it wouldn’t be a surprise if he picked this kind of stuff up from gojo.

“oh, yeah. she’ll be there.” yuji smiled. that’s when choso felt like he had to actually look like something today. he wanted to impress you. he wanted you to compliment him again. he wanted you to praise him. to give him the satisfaction that he had been craving from you for so long.

when yuji left the room, choso looked at his phone, reading the time. it was still a bit early in the morning. ‘9:15 AM’ the clock read. he’d glance down a the wallpaper on his phone, which was you and yuji smiling while eating some ice cream.

‘she’s so pretty…’ he thought. it felt like you were looking directly at him, the longer he stared at the photo, clearly hypnotized by your eyes and your smile. he needed you more than ever and he was gonna make it happen sooner or later.

choso got up and made his way to the bathroom to shower and clean the pre cum off of him. after he was done with his hygiene, he’d put his hair up in his usual twintails then he would put on something simple. a tan oversized sweater with a pair of joggers. he was a simple man and going out in a huge white robe and a gi wasn’t very ideal for the heat that was surging through the city.

a sweater and some joggers weren’t very ideal for this weather either but choso seemed to be fitting in very well…humans did the same thing. some of them.

when it was time to head out with yuji to go to the mall, choso was fully prepared to see you. the male would spray a few squirts of cologne on himself, fix his hair, and he even held out on putting on that eyeshadow that made him look like he didn’t get any ounce of sleep at all.

choso remembered you talking about spider lilies on your story. they came in beautiful colors that looked like they came from a fantasy world and you were in love with them. they were extremely rare and they had a deep meaning behind them.

though, he was aware that they were extremely rare, he was able to get his hands on them after searching around for a while. he found white and red spider lilies. he thought they were a pretty mix of colors. he was even lucky to get one that was white and faded into the usual deep red color like a gradient.

“who are those for?” yuji teased as he peered over at the four spider lilies that choso was carrying with him. the older male’s cheeks flushed a red color, hesitant on answering the question. he couldn’t lie to his brother so he decided to tell the partial truth.

“they’re a home decoration. they aren’t particularly for anyone. they’re for whoever wants them.” the male answered. yuji lifted an eyebrow. he thought it was a bit odd to buy flowers and carry them around until someone asked for them…but choso was still learning so yuji couldn’t blame him for being backwards.

when the two arrived at the mall, choso could see you sitting with nobara and megumi. megumi was spacing out, wandering around the area in circles while you and kugisaki were bumbling about what stores you were going to.

your head suddenly looks up, noticing choso and yuji standing a good distance away, pretty close to the entrance. when you put on a friendly smile and waved in their direction, he was pretty sure you were waving at him.

yuji and choso advance towards you and your other two friends and begin your plans for the day. plans like relaxing at the park or getting some sushi and udon came up. megumi remarking that yuji might stick one or sukuna’s fingers in his meal and call it a secret recipe.

while everyone talked, you noticed that choso was disassociated as usual, holding onto the spider lilies that he bought for you and zoning out.

“hey, how’d you get these?” you asked. choso’s heart skipped a beat when he felt your hand lightly brush against his when you attempted to touch the spider lilies. “they’re so rare.” you added.

“oh—uh…yeah.” choso mumbled. there was a silence. you knew choso was a quiet guy, so you didn’t force him to speak any more than he already had. you reach up and touch the flowers and your smile grows a bit.

“can i?” you begin. choso doesn’t hesitate to hand you the trio of lilies. you weren’t really expecting him to give you all of them since you only wanted to hold one of them. your eyes light up at the rare white one that faded into red. it caught your eye quicker than the regular red and white ones that were in that set of spider lilies.

choso fixed his lips to say something but yuji had come over to the two, “hey, you guys ready?”

of course, you were over the moon because you couldn’t wait to go shopping and go to your favorite places with nobara. you nod and trotted off, already knowing where you were going for your first store.

‘she didn’t give the flowers back…’ choso was in awe when you walked away, holding your favorite species of flowers in your hands. he felt the heat rising in his cheeks again. he’d take the time to take a mental image of you before smiling to himself.

it might’ve been the one in few times he’s actually smiled.

choso would follow yuji and megumi around, hoping that he’d end up running into you again while they circled around the building. instead of looking at things to buy, his thoughts were entirely filled with you.

he fantasized about what you say to him when it was time to confess. how it would feel to kiss you just one time. to sit in a park by all the cherry blossom trees and just have a long conversation about whatever came to mind.

he loved you but you weren’t seeing that. it was frustrating him. then it hit him…you probably did like someone else that wasn’t him. the thought made his chest hurt but he pushed those feelings down because he didn’t want to have a mental breakdown in public. not again.

when the five of you went out to get food after enjoying some time at the mall, choso made sure to sit beside you at the table but also near yuji so nothing was made terribly obvious. he listened to you ramble on about the stuff you bought from the mall. new clothes, a set of undergarments with a robe, and a vase for the spider lilies that you ended up getting from choso.

each time your hand accidentally brushed up against his hand or his arm, he couldn’t help but blush. he’d shove food into his mouth to force himself from smiling when you spoke to him.

this was regular to him. he was more than confident that you were in love with him when you flashed a warm smile at him and asked him for his input on each topic that bounced around the table.

his heart raced each time he fixed his lips to speak, mortified that he’d embarrass himself in front of you but he spoke smoothly and clearer than ever in his low adverb voice. currently, the conversation was on how yuji believed that choso was a terrible teacher. a moment that sent choso into an embarrassed spiral the first time it happened.

“i don’t think you’re a bad teacher,” you assure him, “there’s just things you need to learn and there’s …a million things yuji needs to learn. you both need each other’s support.”

your words meant everything to him and it also gave him a new form of confidence. it wasn’t that he really lacked confidence. he was just too stuck up in his own world to care about anything else.

at the end of your night, unknowingly making choso crave you even more as he continues life with his unrequited love, choso walks with you to the bus stop.

“oh, i meant to say thanks for the flowers. i think it’s a coincidence that you bought them, considering they’re rare…and they’re my favorite.” you say.

“oh…i didn’t know that.” choso replied. he felt terrible for lying. he knew a lot about you. he knew what kind of music you liked, what your favorite movies and shows were. everything. but he didn’t want you to run off because of his tendency to be honest and he might end up saying the wrong thing.

“do you…have instagram?” choso suddenly asks you as he noticed the bus approaching. you don’t think anything of it and you give him your username while he gives you his. he wanted to smile when he felt your phone in his hands but he managed to keep his disassociated expression.

when the bus arrived, the vehicle hissed as its doors opened up so you can board. you looked back at choso and waved goodbye to him and gave him a quick hug before you got onto the bus.

you quickly waved to him again the moment the you sat down on the bus and choso would wave back and there a a subtle smile on his face. once the bus pulled off, his smile faded and he took a breath.

‘next time…i’ll take more direct actions…’

𝐄𝐍𝐃.

⋆｡࿇ ·࣭࣪̇˖ 𖦹°༅༚

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todomochi-uwu · 24 days

Text

favourite crime. (1/2) J.Y & B.C

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x reader / Bang Chan x reader

Genre: Angst, smut

Know that I loved you so bad I let you treat me like that I was your willing accomplice, honey

Did it I proofread it? Kinda.

Did I just spent the last four hours working on it? Yes.

Am I just gonna post it and hope for the best? Also yes.

If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee ☕

You fell exhausted into the bed, your chest heaving, legs numb and lips swollen. He falls right next to you, in the same state. Both staring at the ceiling, trying to regain composure. You think of your next words very carefully, how do you approach him without sounding needy? How do you ask him without actually asking? Yunho’s thinking about how he has to get up early in the morning for work, and that he must leave in the next five minutes. The thought of staying over not even crossing his mind, even though work is closer to your place than his.

And while you keep trying to think of a way to get what you want, he gets up, goes to the bathroom, and comes back, just to start putting his clothes back on.

“It’s late, Yun. You should stay over.” You’ve used that one before, and it didn’t work. But you couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“All my stuff is back at my place, and I need it for tomorrow.” He ties his shoes and looks around for his wallet and jewellery. He doesn’t spare you a glance.

“Can’t you just grab it quick in the morning?”

“That doesn’t make sense, Y/n.” He pats his pockets making sure he’s got everything. “Hey, have you seen my hoodie? I can’t find it anywhere.”

“Uh no, I don’t know where it ended up.” It’s not like it’s hidden right under your pillow. That would be crazy. “I’ll look for it, you can come get it tomorrow, or I can bring it to you while you are at work, it’s no…” He cut you off immediately.

“There’s no need for that, don’t worry about it. I’ll take it next time I come by. See you Thursday, gorgeous.” And with that, he leaves.

And so, the story goes. Every single time. Yunho comes over, horny, desperate and right to the point. Never steering away from his goal. Sex with him is mind-blowing, you won’t even lie, he knows what he’s doing and he’s managed to learn every single thing that makes your toes curl. He knows every inch of your body like a map, inside and outside. The things his mouth does should be illegal, the way his fingers curl just the right way while his lips suck on your clit, maintaining a rhythm that has you seeing stars in seconds. His cock is huge and gorgeous, making it hit all the right spots, while he whispers the most sinful things in your ear.

Looking at you taking my cock, aren’t you such a good slut?

Every single time you beg him to let you suck him off. Doesn’t matter if your jaw ends up aching the next morning, or if your tongue goes numb. The image alone of Yunho losing himself in the pleasure you bring makes you cum untouched. The way small whimpers escape his mouth as he starts growing closer, his hips thrusting into your wet cavern desperate for release, his head thrown back, eyes narrow and open wide mouth, his fist tightly wrapped in your head. It was all too good.

Fuck, baby. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Please don’t stop. Oh. Yes, just like that, sweetheart.

Yunho knows everything there is to know about making you cum. But nothing about not making you cry. The way he doesn’t say anything once everything ends, not even asking if you are okay, his eyes never reach you, making you feel invisible. Leaving you feeling like a toy, his fuck toy, that he can just use and toss aside every time he feels like it. And while you died a little every single time, you couldn’t let go of him. Know that you loved him so bad, you let him treat you like that.

____________________________________________

Work, stress and a broken heart are never a good mix. You sat in front of the screen, staring at the blank page for a good number of minutes. Your body is there but your head is in a completely different place.

“I don’t there’s any more nails left to bite,” Hongjoong said as he sat next to you, putting a cup and a muffin in front of your face. “Eat this instead of trying to munch off your fingers.”

You looked at them, small bits of skin, nails, chipped nail polish and blood covered the tips, and the pain was slowly making itself present. You cursed under your breath before taking a sip of the beverage, gagging the second it touched your tongue.

“Ugh, I hate tea. I hate chamomile.” You took another sip, “I hate Mondays.”

“You are always in a bad mood, but what’s gotten into you today?” He said taking a sip of his drink, looking through some of his notes.

“I got no sleep. I’m on my period. I’m on a fucking block and this is due by Wednesday.” I’m heartbroken.

He hummed, “Is that all?”

“Isn’t it enough?”

“Y/n, babe, since I’ve known you, you’ve never gotten a full night's sleep, so that’s not it. I understand about your period and you always, always manage to pull through a block, at least good enough for a deadline. You and I both know what this is about.”

“I already told you…”

“Bullshit. Why do you keep lying to yourself? Why do you keep lying to me?” He crossed his arms, his tone becoming accusatory. “What I don’t get is why you keep defending him. No matter how much he crosses the line you keep crossing your heart for him[MC1] .”

“He’s not doing anything, I’m the one who fucked up by falling for him.”

“He doesn’t even give you the bare respect you deserve, Y/n. He treats you like a sex doll; he doesn’t acknowledge you in public; he acts like he doesn’t know you. He knows about your feelings and he could give less of a fuck about them”

“It’s casual sex, Joongie.”

“I’ve had casual sex, and it has never even crossed my mind to treat someone the way he treats you.” He sighs frustrated, “And what bothers me the most is the fact you are willing to stand all it to get a bit of him. He doesn’t want you; he only wants your body.”

Tears threaten to spill out. It’s nothing you haven’t heard before. From him, from Mingi, hell even from yourself. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to push him away. To let go. “Don’t you think I know that? I’m aware of it. But what do you want me to say? I’m a fucking idiot for loving him, but I can’t help it.” You covered your mouth, trying to keep the sobs inside.

“Love, please, I’m begging you I can’t bear to see you like this anymore. I hate what he’s done to you, he took away your shine, your spark. Please, promise you will end this. I can’t stand to see you like this anymore, if not for you, for me, please.”

____________________________________________

You had made a promise. You would try to move on, finally kicking Yunho out of your life. Yeah, you had first slipped a bit but you were now on the right track.

The first Thursday you had been so dispersed you completely forgot to cancel your (dick) appointment with him. So, when he showed up on your doorstep and immediately threw you onto the couch and ate you out, there was nothing much you could do, so you let yourself enjoy it, one last time you said to yourself.

Oh my god Yun, I'm gonna cum, please!

Don't you dare, I'm not done with you.

Watching him leave was just as bad as the last time. It made you cry all night long, your heart empty and your stomach in a swirl. That was the night you decided you never wanted to feel like that again.

The second time, you'll admit, it was because you were horny and in withdrawal. It was a few weeks after, you had been cancelling your appointments claiming you were too busy, and while it wasn't necessarily a lie, you were also avoiding him. But you just needed a bit of him to help you get by, a small dosage and you would be able to quit.

You had found yourself head pushed against the sheets, waist up and knees wide open while he pistols his hips against your, now, reddish ass. You were drooling, eyes at the back of your head, and mouth screaming his name over and over again.

You missed me, you whore? Oh, I bet you did. I'm the only one who can give you what you need, this pussy is mine and don't you dare forget about it.

You watched him leave and didn't say anything. Staring at your phone, of course, pretending to be busy on it, but it had at least made you appear uninterested.

The third and last time it had been him texting you that he was right in front of your building. On a Wednesday. What the hell was he doing there on a Wednesday?

"I'm sorry, I thought I'd drop by, we haven't seen each other in a couple of weeks and I thought I would at least try." He said.

You looked at him as if he had grown a second head. No clue on who was the man standing in front of you. Yunho had never "dropped by", your meetings planned, and established beforehand, like a doctor's appointment. He was equally as confused as you, not knowing what got into him; blaming it on the stress and the lack of sex.

You had ended up riding him on the sofa, both of you cumming unusually fast, but near as satisfying.

Oh, it felt so good Yun. We hadn't seen each other in a couple of weeks, remember?

And just like that, it was done. You had gotten up, ready to take a shower and go to sleep. Asking him to lock the door on his way out. Yunho couldn't help but feel sick, you hadn't even spared him a glance.

____________________________________________

In the middle of your mess of a life, a new project had been assigned to you at work. It was bigger than anything you had done before, and so demanding that the workload had to be shared between three people. Hongjoong, you and…

“Guys, this is Bang Chan. He will be working with you for the next few weeks, he’s going to be supporting you during this project, so make sure to relay on him.”

Your eyes crossed and he gave you a small smile. He was cute, you won’t try and deny it. But you didn’t have time for that, you have to focus on working on yourself and on the project. Right?

While at first the load of work had been a blessing in disguise, keeping you away from Yunho and off of thinking of him, it had quickly turned into a nightmare in the last few weeks. Change after change after change. At some point it even had you doubting yourself, but Chan was always there to reassure you.

Early mornings turned into late nights. Hongjoong, Chan and you took turns to sleep on the uncomfortable, black leather couch at the back of the studio.

It was 4 a.m. on a Thursday. Hongjoong had lost the battle about an hour ago, softly snoring in the background, with drool running down his cheek. Chan had taken a photo for "future purposes" as he stated.

At this point, you couldn't even focus on the things happening on the screen, but you also couldn't sleep, too anxious to find any peace.

"I don't think we are going to get anything else done today," Chan said throwing his arms back and stretching his muscles. And yeah, you couldn't help but stare.

"I know. But god knows I won't be getting any sleep until we finish this"

"I'm the same."

A comfortable silence covered the room, only the soft sounds of Chan clicking the mouse and the quiet snores of Joong could be heard. And just as you started to disassociate.

"What's your favourite midnight snack?"

"Mm? Oh, I don't know."

"Mine's instant ramen. And I would kill for a bowl right now." He said getting up, "My treat, you in?" He offered his hand to help you get up.

Without any thought, you took it.

And so, the rest of the night went. Between energy drinks, trash food and friendly (and bit flirty) banter.

"I cannot fathom the idea of someone not liking coffee."

"It tastes like shit." No hesitance.

"No, it doesn't! It's literally what keeps me going without it I would just be a zombie all day."

"Tea does the same thing, it doesn't taste like dirt, and it's better for you."

"The thought of having a cup of green tea first thing in the morning makes me want to gag."

"Don't knock till you try it." He finished the last of his noodles, speaking with his mouth full, "And it doesn't even have to be green tea, there are lots of types of teas, like..."

Your phone started ringing, interrupting his rant. He took it and looked at the screen, "Bad idea, don't you dare answer is calling you?"

He called you. Which is something he never does. Too personal. Yet here he was, at the other side of the line. Waiting for you to answer, but you couldn't let yourself do it, you couldn't let yourself fall for him all over again. Stunned on what to do, you let it go to voicemail. Watching it ring one, two, three times before your screen turned black. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. Now an awkward silence.

"So... I'm guessing a ghost of the past has just tried to summon itself back into your life?" He said trying to break the tension[MC2] .

"Yeah, it's umm... It's complicated."

"I've got time and I've been told am an excellent listener." His eyes carry a kind of compassion you had never experienced, no pity, no sense of charity.

"Well..."

____________________________________________

"Oh wow, he isn't just a bad idea, Y/n. No, he's way past that."

"I know." A sad giggle. "He's not always an asshole, he's just not interested in me in any other way that's not sexual. That's why I'm trying to move on."

"That's good, that's good." A thought crossed his mind, "he can't be that good in bed."

You choked on your spit, not expecting the conversation to go in that direction.

"I'm just saying, maybe you just idealize him because you hadn't had decent sex before him."

"Even if the burdens me to admit it, he's really good."

"I don't believe you."

"Believe me, that's what makes me hate him even more."

"I'm sure there are guys out there go can fuck you equally or even better, and not break your heart."

"Oh, yeah. Where?" You laughed, lifting your head to look at him. But the view in front of you made your heart stop.

He was looking right into your eyes. His back relaxed against the back of the chair, his legs opened wide and his arms resting on top of his thighs. He tilted his head and gave you a small smirk.

The guy was right in front of you.

You were just too dumb to notice.

"Oh."

____________________________________________

Contrary to you, Yunho couldn't go back to his duties. Staring confused at the screen of his phone, why didn't you answer? Were you okay? Could you just be busy? Too busy for him? Busy doing what? Busy doing who?

His pulse sped up at that thought, could there be someone else? No. Could it? No. But why does it matter? Is not like he wants you like that.

Right?

____________________________________________

Thursday rolled around and the project was finally done, delivered and paid for. And you couldn't help but be in ecstasy.

"I thought that shit would never end!" You said finally leaving the building you had been trapped in for all those weeks.

Chan only giggled while looking at you.

"I can't wait to get home and spend the next days completely buried in my bed," Hongjoong said.

"No! Let's go out and celebrate, we deserve it!" You tried convincing him.

"Aren't you tired? My back is killing me, Y/n." He gave you a side hug, "I'm sorry, not today, but I promise we'll go out soon."

"But Joongie." You whined.

"I'm sorry, but you go out and have fun with Chan, okay?" He placed a small kiss on top of your head, "Chan, please take care of her okay? I trust you."

"Don't worry, I've got her."

And got you he did. Got you so drunk you could barely walk back to your apartment. So, he had to carry you on his back.

"Goddamit, when did you take all those shots? I only saw you order two rounds, Y/n."

"The guy at the bar thought I was cute, so gave me a couple extra." You drunkenly giggled, holding your clumsy against his back. "Why aren't you drunk, Channie? We went out to have fun and you are acting all bossy."

"Someone had to be responsible, baby and I knew it wasn't going to be you. Besides, I don't love the taste of alcohol."

"You don't like coffee, you don't like alcohol, what do you like Chan?"

"I can think of one thing." He mumbled under his breath.

Making your way inside the building wasn't easy because of the amount the stairs and the lack of an elevator, but he managed. He had helped you with your keys, and changed you into your pajamas, with his eyes closed which made it a thousand times harder. Just as he was about to leave, you pulled him in.

"Stay over, it's late Channie." You hugged his arm, pushing your breasts against his skin. He was so into you that it got him slightly flustered.

"It's barely 11 p.m., Y/n."

"Please, just stay Chan." You looked right into his eyes, you could feel the alcohol dissipating, sobering up. You needed him, right there, right now. Your hand pulled him in.

"I don't know if it's a good idea, love." He whispered as your faces got closer.

"Please, Channie." You whispered against his lips.

The kiss was soft and timid, him still hesitant but slowly letting himself into it. Your hands made their way from his arms to his shoulders and found their home right into the back of his neck. It made him shiver, and he became a little braver, grabbing your waist. You let your tongue into his mouth, becoming addicted to his taste and the way his lips feel. You separated for just a second, the annoying need of air getting in the way, and as you were to continue. A bang on the door pulled you out of the moment.

"What the..."

Bang. Bang. Bang.

"It's so late, who..."

Bang. Bang. Bang.

"Y/n? Please open the door. Please, we need to talk. Please, I know you are there."

Yunho. A very drunk Yunho.

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