#ALSO HIS CURLS PLS

[frnkiebby]

always love a good drowned sewer rat frnk~🎃

[naggingatlas]

watched my friend kass play pressure on stream today n doodled sebastian n then she colored him :) super nostalgic shit. add this one to my collection of butch women on t btw

[strangerhands]

he is too beautiful...

[scruus]

canon sylus proving he likes being treated roughly again IM SWEATINGGNFG the new free card is so so insane to me I need to be sedated

“Prove to me that you can be a stronger” and suddenly I am thrice my size with big dragon wings and a tail that is almost his entire height. LIKE MY MANS STOP PROVOKING ME!! THIS WONT END WELL🙏🙏😭😭😭

He is so much into body worship and marking too like good lord. He’ll be bored if you are sweet and merciful to him. Naw. Make him kneel as he looks up at you with a dazed lust and pull his hair back, roughly, exposing that damned adam’s apple. Bite him, choke him and slap him around. Push him to such limits it makes him realise that the only one who could satiate his insatiable lust is you.

You who loves him in all forms. You who can bring him down to his knees and also make him float in a happy bubble.

You are his. His lover. Goddess. Princess. Everything.

[ironunderstands]

Rules for how my Omegaverse works for the Aventio au because I don’t like how others write it (so my picky ass will resolve it myself)

Some mentions of SA because unfortunately it comes with the trope

-Beta’s are basically just normal humans, far less attuned to things than alphas/omegas, but they can be turned into alphas/omegas through difficult/unnatural means, although not by other alphas/omegas without consent, have a similar mechanic to what omegas have (you shall see). Blade is an omega bc of whatever the hell happened to him but originally he was a beta 

-omegas still have heats- but the desire to submit to alphas is able to be controlled even inside of heats, although it’s very difficult of course, it just requires mental fortitude. It’s even easier for pathstriders 

-omegas have a lot of trouble getting pregnant before getting mated, but after it’s fair easier, especially if you’re the mate of an omega, while it’s virtually impossible for non-mates

-omegas can refuse mating bites, and if they do, the offending alpha will die (they can naturally poison their own blood, which is toxic to anyone but the omega themselves, unique to each omega), however this organ can be removed surgically and in some cultures they do (it’s framed as a bad, archaic practice). Nevertheless, this is often why people wait to be married before going through with a mating bite, bc being killed by refusal is only prosecutable by law after marriage in most places 

-alphas can use their scent/pheromones/whatever to influence others, especially omegas, but it’s frowned upon and not entirely effective because with enough willpower anyone can resist. However it works against more weak willed individuals, and even subtly against people who aren’t even part of the omegaverse at all (you will see in the next point)

-since hsr has so many different species of person, many are just normal people outside of the omegaverse entirely, like characters from Belabog/Xianzhou don’t have any of that stuff 

-Ratio, Aventurine, Black Swan, Acheron, Blade,  the Trailblazers, March 7th, Sunday, Robin, Boothill, the people from their respective planets (just Halovians for Penacony) and the Amphoreus characters do though 

-Aventurine + the rest of the Avgin + Sigonians are unique bc their pheromones can even affect people with no distinctions at all, it’s part of their bad reputation/stereotypes in the galaxy, really it’s not as strong as their enemies make it out to be, and most would never abuse it unless in desperate situations 

-also comes with a thing I’ve seen in other fanfics that’s called alpha voice I think? It’s unique to him + other alpha Sigonians + strong pathstriders + emanator alphas where they can basically command other people, but again it’s rarely used especially by him because Aventurine isn’t a piece of shit 

-the IPC was aware of this which is why they made it so the people they sent to enslave the Sigonians a) had no distinctions b) turned off their synthesia beacons c) wore filtration masks

-the reason I’m adding this is because Aventurine is going to use it on Ratio for reasons we will both find out (because I haven’t thought of why yet, I just like the ideas) but won’t involve non-con at all I promise 

-currently I’m thinking Aventurine gets mad/upset/worried/whatever and uses the alpha voice unconsciously to basically tell Ratio off, resulting in him submitting which will be a whole mess 

-at this point ppl w these traits are common enough that those without have learned to synthesize things to use with/against them, like replicating alpha pheromones or something, which can cause problems and has led to strict regulations of them by the IPC

-suppressants still exist, and because I like this trope (well more like it’s useful), they don’t permanently harm alphas/omega’s by using them, but they slowly make their users feel worse and worse, and can be fatal with over use, they also make any ensuing heat/rut stronger after being off them, this is the only time it becomes practically impossible for alphas/omegas to circumnavigate their instincts, and can lead to problems 

-Therefore it’s rarely recommended for people to be on them forever, and if individuals really hate their instincts they can get surgery to remove their mating gland (back of the neck, I didn’t specify before but that’s where others put it, not gonna fix what isn’t broken) to suppress the effects of being an alpha/omega, although it can’t remove them completely. This also tends to make people infertile, which is why the procedure is often frowned upon/undesirable, bc as annoying as heats/ruts can be, most still want kids 

-Everyone regardless of sex is a hermaphrodite and presenting is what changes their anatomy, how? It kinda just gets absorbed into the body the day of presentation. Which is a) funny b) means nobody has to deal with stray organs everywhere c) it’s a cop out hahahaha also betas retain both 

- Black Swan is an alpha and so is Acheron (mmm alpha x alpha) I’ll figure out how that works later lmao

-Boothill, Blade, Caelus, Ratio, Topaz and Sunday are omegas (as they should be)

-March is a beta, Stelle is a beta, Robin and Aventurine are also alphas

-not sure if I wanna make Stelle and Caelus coexist in this or not 

-Can you tell I don't like the rapey elements of the genre and I hate when ppl write omegas like they are weak and can’t resist at all. I get it’s fun for horny stuff but honestly it just annoys and disgusts me more than anything. If that’s your cup of tea then go ahead, but I am not a fan of it at all unfortunately 

-Nesting has always been an interesting concept for me. I think I’ll keep the elements of it that involve omegas surrounding themselves w the scents of their desired alphas, and just precious belongings in general 

-I’ll make an alpha version of this where the scent of their desired omega can calm them down and provide them comfort during ruts

-similar for omegas where the pain (but not the horniness) of heats goes away if near desired alpha

-by “desired ___” I mean crush/mate if you don’t fuck with someone (in a metaphorical sense although literally this can also be true) they cannot help you 

-foxians aren’t part of the omegaverse but they have heightened senses so they can tell when someone’s going through heats/ruts/stuff which is why a lot of doctors specializing in this stuff are foxians 

-people present at 18-20 

-none of that kits/pups/litter shit sorry not my thing at all, also I feel like it dehumanizes the potential children like dude those are human beings not dogs 

-Way less of the strict gender rules, no omegas can’t do this alphas should go that kinda stuff, I don’t want omega’s to be seen as significantly weaker than alphas/they should mostly balance each other out. However as stated prior alphas can absolutely influence people, especially omegas which can result in very interesting problems, however they do have means of fighting back (the poison + personal willpower)

-However the willpower required to resist is a lot/its very hard in general. Most people in universe do not blame omegas for giving into their instincts, although there are plenty of victim blamers, just like in reality unfortunately 

-mpreg

[destructo-range]

helen design ref sheet!!!

anyway this is long overdue. have some helens 🫵

in order:

Image 1: Helen Richardson during the events outlined in MAG 47, before meeting Michael and entering the hallways (with blazer then without)

Image 2: Helen Richardson during the events outlined in MAG 47, about midway through her journey through the hallways then when she gets spat back out

Image 3: (ignore why it's not chronological, I can't change it for some reason) the Distortion post MAG 101. On the left the appearance she takes on most of the time, on the right the one she takes on during MAG 187: Checking Out.

Image 4: (again, ignore why it's not chronological, I'll try to fix it) Helen Richardson giving her statement at the Magnus Institute during MAG 47 (with blazer then without)

anyway please do read the annotations I put a ton of thought into this /nf they're transcribed in the alt text if you prefer that

HELEN 🌀🌀🌀🚪🚪🚪

[girl-bateman]

Ok.. are you just supposed to ignore it when someone is clearly the product of an extramarital affair or am I allowed to speak up... ?

[obsessedobsesser]

I honestly think we need David Tennant to be in more roles where he has curly hair

[armchairaleck]

Alright, I am going totally out into the wilderness, away from anything the Dragon Prince fandom wants to read, to write some totally self-indulgent Viren/Corvus post s5 enemies to lovers.. ticking all my boxes but no one else's.. it’s pretty much consuming all my writing hours because I know it will be blown to smithereens by season 6… and I don't have much to say about it here because I also know it's utterly ridiculous.

ANYWAY sometimes I need a break from two guys discussing the nature of fate and existence around a camp fire (yep, fun times when I go all in on the indulgence..) so I’ve also started to write bits of King Atticus is an utter bastard AU (haven’t really thought of a proper name for this yet…)

Here’s a snippet cut below. I don’t even know if it will make it into the main plot, it's really just a little study of Atticus and Kpp'Ar plotting somewhat dubious stuff for Duren...

“Mmm” Atticus lifted the goblet of red wine to his lips and smiled. “Here’s to new ventures.”

Kpp’Ar did not drink straight away, he swirled the wine a little and let its scent settle in his nose first. The wine would undoubtedly be some of the best the five kingdoms had produced. He might as well savour it.

The first sip didn’t disappoint, rich and heavy on the tongue, mountain wine, grown in the foothills of Del Bar, he could almost taste the sweetness of the first winter frost that they’d allowed to settle on the grapes before harvesting. An excellent vintage, he let it roll slowly around his tongue and watched the king.

Atticus sat regarding him, eyes narrowed. It was often the king’s policy to sit until a silence grew so uncomfortable that it was impossible not to break it, and Kpp’Ar decided to oblige him before it reached that point.

“You seem to have already decided on the mage you want as my successor.”

Atticus leant back in his chair and rotated his goblet slowly between his fingers so that the candlelight glinted off the gold.

“Well, he has certain admirable qualities the others don’t possess. Very dedicated to the kingdom, and my son Harrow seems fond of him, they’re fond of each other, no? You can’t pay gold for that sort of loyalty.” He laughed, and Kpp’Ar felt his usual slight revulsion at the cold, metallic ring of it. “You’ll have time to indulge your other pastimes, research, those puzzles that you like. You can let someone younger do the more mundane magic and worry about politics.”

Kpp’Ar shrugged, it wouldn’t do to let the king see his true emotions, he was like a snake that way, he would swallow them now and digest them slowly later, add it to the list of all the other information he kept locked away inside his head.

This latest move, his retirement, was simply the king rearranging his chess pieces on a board. Kpp’Ar knew he had outstayed his usefulness, there was no point in arguing his case.

“It would be nice to have the time to explore other avenues certainly.” He smiled back at the king.

“Precisely, council meetings were never really your scene, and Viren has a strong sense of… justice.”

“Indeed.”

Kpp’Ar gazed down at his glass, he didn’t particularly want to look at the king, to see the knowing look on his face, the unspoken things that lay beneath his words. There were many things he found it prudent to keep to himself, but he could never be completely certain that Atticus hadn’t already sniffed them out somehow.

“You’ve invested a lot of time in Viren, it must make you proud to see how far he’s come.”

Kpp’Ar took another sip of the wine. There it was, the little flash of the blade. The way Atticus would hold it in his hand and let you see for just a moment before striking.

“Of course.” He let his finger trace the patterns etched around the goblet, finest Neolandian gold of course, and he feigned absolute indifference. Even if Atticus had an inkling of just what Viren meant to him, of the odd complexities that their relationship contained, he was not about to expose that in front of him. “I suppose I’ve grown… fond of the boy.” He wasn’t a boy now of course, he was a man grown and yet sometimes there were moments when Kpp’Ar could still see the burning drive of Viren’s younger self, awkward and eager and full of passionate intensity.

“Yes, you always seemed unusually invested in that one.” Atticus gave him a slow smile, like a wolf it was, all barred teeth. “Don’t worry, he’ll do well, achieve far more than most men of his station. Do you know, I’m even considering giving him a title? Lord Viren, I expect that would sit well with him. You were never much moved by titles were you Kpp’Ar? But then, you came from money, what does a little word mean then?”

Atticus knocked his signet ring against the rim of the goblet in his hand and the sound reverberated in the silence.

“For what would you give him a title?” Kpp’Ar kept his voice merely curious but he knew there would be a cost involved commensurate with the reward. Common boys like Viren did not simply become lords in Katolis.

“For services… rendered. I mean, that’s the usual reason for giving out titles, no?”

Kpp’Ar stilled his features and took another sip of the wine. There were very few angles to playing Atticus, once he had made up his mind about something there was very little dissuading him. Kpp’Ar knew he himself was an aberration, tolerated only for his unmatched skills in dark magic. Of everyone at the court he alone said no to Atticus, everyone else bent the knee, and so here he was, nothing but a piece in a game that could be quietly removed now. There was a new piece to take his place, one that he himself had trained and honed to perfection to suit the king’s needs. In a way he’d always been playing Atticus’s hand, had moved his own pieces exactly where the king had wanted them.

“What service will you be asking of him? It would be better for me to know, in case I need to advise him.”

Atticus placed the goblet back on the table.

“Yes, of course, you might be right. The ambassador from Duren… she’s been getting a little… insistent lately, harvest failures, a blight that’s been spreading year by year. Of course Duren don’t keep a high mage, strictly speaking there are no mages at all in Duren, they see themselves as… above that sort of thing. Enlightened, talk is Del Bar are thinking of curbs at least. Imagine that, soon all the kingdoms might start considering dark magic unacceptable, you know how they love to frown on anything they don’t understand.”

“I’ve heard some rumours.”

Kpp’Ar did not keep in particularly close contact with any dark mages other than those he has trained himself, and yet this news had already travelled to him from a disgruntled trader in Del Bar. It’s true that Duren by advantage of their geographical location have not had to resort to dark magic in quite the same way the other kingdoms have. Most practitioners there are simple healers who keep to the shadows and are recommended only by word of mouth. There are no great mages, no one of the calibre that Kpp’Ar would consider worthy of the title.

“Quite, and yet now that their harvests can’t feed the population, to whom do they turn?”

“To you I suppose.”

“To me.” Atticus’s voice cut like cold steel. “Suddenly their moral high ground is not so lofty after all, suddenly our aid is acceptable. I intend to let them see what a few more years of blight does. Let them come to the pentarchy when their backs are really against the wall. Then we can negotiate.”

Kpp’Ar nodded, Atticus had always been politically ruthless, it had left Katolis almost as powerful as the other four kingdoms put together. The Katolian army is a well-oiled machine, it greatly exceeded the needs of a few border skirmishes that erupted from time to time with Xadia. He ruled with an iron fist, and yet he was one of those rare leaders who can also put on a show of relating to the common man. Kpp’Ar had always been impressed watching him in action, from the humblest peasant to the richest lord he ingratiated himself effortlessly, like some street hawker peddling false cures.

He himself had always struggled to bond with anyone, he had very few friends, and yet for some reason over the years he has known him Viren alone had become something else to him. Something he chose never to quite quantify with words because it was fraught with hidden danger. They have blurred the edges of their relationship in so many different ways now and it was increasingly apparent that these feelings he had have allowed him to be played. He can see no way for Viren to avoid the web that Atticus has spun.

“So you want Viren to put her off?”

“No. I want new ambassador, someone a little more amenable, or better still, no ambassador from Duren. She simply has to meet with an accident, it would be unfortunate, but… well these things happen.” Atticus spread his hands and shrugged.

“What will you tell Viren?”

“Just that, nothing more, he’s a bright enough lad, ambitious, he’ll figure it out.”

“I don’t think you know him that well, he won’t kill someone, not even for a title.”

“Well, the title is only an incentive, a man like Viren has plenty to lose though doesn’t he? That beautiful wife, the son he seems so fond of, a baby daughter too.”

There is a dark look on Atticus’s face now and it is that moment that Kpp’Ar can see how easily he’d been played, how utterly out manoeuvred he had been, and that he is now expendable, he too could meet with an accident if the king willed it. He took another sip of his wine, swallowed it impassively as his mind worked around the problem.

Atticus thought that he knew him, thought he knew every person and all their weaknesses, but he isn’t infallible, he’d always been greedy for magic, for the power that it gave him but also for the knowledge of it too.

“I have a solution that might work, something I’ve been wanting to test for you actually, something I believe you’ll like.”

“Oh yes?” Atticus looked at him, face impassive, but he can see the glint of hunger in his eyes. Kpp’Ar knows something about human weakness too.

“Old magic, elven, I picked them up in Xadia, I had to pay a considerable price.”

Kpp’Ar reached into his cloak and dropped a soft fabric bag on the table, Atticus reached for it, undid the string. He is a man who had always been inordinately interested in dark magic and all its trappings. A small pile of coins dropped onto the table and the king stacked them, one on top of the other, before picking up the top one and spinning it slowly between his fingers.

“What are these?”

“Prisons, very old I believe, they trap the soul, hold it in an different plane. Far more elegant than murder.”

"Hold it how?"

"Trap the soul, transmigrate the body. No trace."

“Alright, so the ambassador is gone, we say she’s been taken by Moonshadow elves. Create a little division with Xadia. Duren could send a hundred spies to scour our kingdom and they won’t find a trace?"

"Correct."

Unlikely another ambassador will be keen to come after that.”

“I'm sure you have ways of getting your wish, Sire.”

Atticus flipped the coin and caught it easily, regarded his own reflection in the polished gold.

“Heavier than a normal coin.”

“Yes.”

“What magic?”

“Star they told me when I bought it, but that’s only because it increases the price considerably. I should say moon, perhaps some corruption of the moon primal. Hard to be sure without more research.”

“Interesting. Fine that plan is acceptable, can you reverse it?”

“Theoretically, I haven’t quite worked that part out yet, there are very few records of this sort of thing. Perhaps if Viren and I could use the castle library I might find something there.”

“As you wish.”

The king placed the coin back in the sack, pushed the others back in carefully and tied the string.

“I think perhaps I’ll let Viren have a few more months under you, so he can get used to the new role, he can attend the council meetings, but I’ll still consult you on the magical side of things. How does that sound?”

“Very good your majesty.”

Kpp’Ar bowed his head so Atticus couldn’t see his expression.

“Oh, and Kpp’Ar, send Viren to me later will you? There are a few things I wish to discuss with him.”

———

What are the complexities of Kpp’Ar and Viren’s relationship?

Viren and Kpp’Ar are carrying on a clandestine affair behind Lissa’s back… I mean maybe.. when I get into the planning of this AU Viren has a lot of affairs, clandestine and otherwise..

[minchananigans]

I desperately need hairstylist to keep the hair straightner away from chan's hair 😭😭

not only are they frying it up all over again but they also aren't using this hair lenght to its full curly potential 😭

[eembezzle]

fucked up and wrong that they gave him abs in the actual game. like let the man be soft and squishy it is how he was meant to be.

SOFT GALE ??11!!! SOFT GALE !!! SOFT !!!! GALE !!!! !!!

ill take any excuse to draw this bean <33 here is ur soft gale, anon <333

[navydoves]

Mermaid!Rafayel and his strange habits while in heat.

❥ He has a lot of cycles… all of which you have to suffer through.

✎ᝰ a/n. alright, rafayel is our starter for this sister series! i hope people enjoy this series as much as they did the “affectionate habits” one. if you want to be tagged in the next updates for this series, pls lmk i will be happy to. the other lis are:

- bunny xavier, cat zayne, dragon sylus, and cyborg/puppy caleb (i have to choose for caleb)

enjoy!

affectionate habits ver.

࣪𖤐

❥ he hisses! no more chirps or chitters, rafayel cannot stop hissing at everything around him. it’s not even just other men or women, it’s also like… coral reefs and amoebas. the hissing is rather loud and a bit scary, but he never does it to you. no, rafayel’s hisses are a way to ward off others in order to protect you. even if those “others” are passing crabs.

the first time rafayel started doing this you thought he was mad at you and this was his way of expressing it. you would recoil at the sound and then try and comfort him so you could figure out what you did wrong. but as soon as rafayel notices you’re upset, he immediately brings you into an embrace and reassures you that it’s not you. it’s the seaweed next to you, babe.

although when it comes to actual people, rafayel will get even louder in his hisses. he genuinely hates the idea of others being with you when he needs the most attention now. he thinks everyone’s out to get a piece of you and his anger only tells you he would never hesitate to hurt or kill those who get too close.

❥ he pins you constantly. it’s no secret rafayel is concerningly strong, but his muscle mass and strength become more prominent during his heat. by no joke, he will pin you with an index finger and leave you helpless writhing. but that’s precisely why he likes doing it. he really enjoys seeing you submissive and struggling underneath him, even if he’s not gonna do anything.

but most of the time… he is gonna do something. the whole point of his pinning is so he can keep you still as he going ramming into you from every position. his thrusts are deep and strong, so you need to be kept still or else you’re gonna go flying out the sea. he’s rough when he’s in heat and he’s practically training you to take his force because… well who else is gonna help him? only you can, no matter how much smaller and weaker you are.

❥ he speaks in lemurian. about half of the time rafayel spends in his heat he spends speaking to you in tongues. his heat is so instinctual that he can’t help be speak his native tongue even if you can’t understand him. he’s pawing at you, growling and begging right up in your ear until the entire tone of his voice changes. suddenly you’re hearing words you can’t make out in low pitches that make you shudder.

knowing he needs you is hot enough. but not knowing what he’s gonna do to you is even hotter. all the dirty talk he’s probably saying in your ear as he bend you over a rock and presses his 12 foot form against you gets you going. overtime you’ve learned a few words here and there… kind of. you know the words he says when he’s satisfied and or about to come, but you don’t actually know what they mean. you know the words he uses when he’s threatens you (not actually, just sexually) to come help him.

he’ll switch back and forth between his two languages unconsciously, especially in the heat of the moment. but if you’re being honest… you kinda want him to swoon you in lemurian all the time.

❥ he cries a lot. i think it’s well known that rafayel can have major mood swings sometimes, and his heat makes this a lot worse. while he is rough and claiming a good decent amount of the time, he’s also super emotional when you’re not around. he’ll curl into seaweed beds or alcoves to sob and whimper because he doesn’t have his darling with him. he’ll especially throw a fit if his heat becomes painful and there’s no outlet for him to use.

it’s a very sad sight to see. pearls come floating out of his eyes because he feels so lonely. his biology is telling him to give his body to his beloved, but if she’s not here or can’t, then it physically pains him. he’s physically bonded with you and can’t even think about using anything or anyone else to help him with his heat. the best he can do is stimulate his two cocks in private to best simulate what you might feel like, but it’s never ever enough.

❥ his cocks are always out. usually there’s a slit on the forefront of his tail where they retract and hide away until necessary but during his heat… well they’re just kinda always there. and it’s not because rafayel can’t put them away, it’s just that he doesn’t want to. at first you though maybe it was just a biology thing. cocks always out? right makes sense, he needs them constantly. but you learned from him that no… he just likes having them out with you around.

it’s for convenience sake. any sudden surge of horny he gets, no time is wasted getting those things out. he’ll immediately have you on your back with his floater friends ready to penetrate. they’re never soft either… they’re always just kinda hard and slick. while the sight is maybe a little bit amusing, it’s also impractical. you can’t sleep next to him without having to make room for his long schlongs. you can’t graze against them accidentally unless you want to be spurted with strange lemurian liquid. you can’t look at them for too long without rafayel getting incredibly horny and wanting to fuck you.

at some point you asked him why he doesn’t just put them away until they’re needed, but he insists on having you admire impressive his assets.

❥ he’s really obsessed with baby-talk. give him the benefit of the doubt, he’s in heat. while regular, normal rafayel isn’t too keen on the idea of babies, lemurian, in heat rafayel loves them. he massages your tummy and imagines his little seedlings in there. he doesn’t let himself come anywhere else but inside you in hopes of getting you pregnant. he’s constantly playing with your breasts in hopes that you’ll magically start milking.

the biology won’t allow it and rafayel knows that, but his brain is too muddled with ideas of you becoming a mother to his children. while he is no doubt aggressive in his heat, the heat itself is a biological purpose used for only mating. and lemurians mate for life. there’s no one else. so be honored <3

࣪𖤐

[sleepdeprivedfrfr]

obsessedbf!toji who loves when it’s cold outside because he knows you won’t try and push him away for being too clingy because he’s so so so sooo warm.

obsessedbf!toji who loves when you curl up to him or wrap yourself around him at night in the middle of your sleep, he thinks it’s so adorable.

obsessedbf!toji who doesn’t go to bed until you do, even if it means he’ll wake up grumpy the next morning for work.

obsessedbf!toji who complains to you one night about your sleeping schedule, “Why the fuck are you still up?”

“I’m watching asmr.”

“Turn that shit off and c’mere.”

“Shh this is a good part.”

He snatched your phone out of your hands and turned it off, “Toji what the fu-”

“Pay attention to me ma, not the fucking phone.” He whispered in a gruff sleepy voice as he pulled you to his chest and engulfing you completely. You huffed into his chest. "Stop acting like you don't love this," Toji grumbled lowly, you could hear the smirk in his words.

"Your tits are suffocating me Toji. No complaints though."

"Fucking freak."

He couldn't help but smile though after hearing your sweet little giggles.

obsessedbf!toji who picks up extra missions just so that he can spoil you, he literally refuses to let you work and truly believes that he should be the sole provider while you don't lift a finger. Also having you care for him when he comes home exhausted is a plus :3

obsessedbf!toji who lets you do skincare on him when he comes back home, he claims he hates it but he loves how relaxing it is and how much attention you put on him while doing it.

obsessedbf!toji who constantly teases you for watching asmr but slowly starts getting into it once you do it to him.

You were propped up against the pillows on the bed, while Toji walked out of the bathroom. He was moody from being at work all day, only to come home to you already showered, leaving him to have to shower alone. "C'mere baby," you patted your lap signaling for your big grumpy boyfriend to lay in it.

He let out a soft grunt and quickly placed himself into your embrace, his head on your lower stomach and hands resting on your hips while his body between your legs. You began tracing patterns up and down his back with your nails, and up and down his large biceps.

"Fuck that feels good ma." he whispered, causing you to let out a soft giggle.

"You still mad at me you big baby?" Your hands moved up to his scalp.

"Tch, whatever. Jus' keep doin’ what yer doin'." Was all he said while his thumbs lightly brushed back and fourth over your hips. His breathing began to slow and he let out soft snores.

obsessedbf!toji who surprising plans really romantic dates for you two, but as soon as you walk out of the bedroom all dressed up his hands are all over you, making you guys late to whatever reservation he booked.

"Babe we're gonna be late."

"Fuck you look so good mama, I can't help it." He says between kisses. Safe to say y'all were definitely going to be late again, that is if you even left the house.

another toji drabble/oneshot bc y'all loved the last one sm, might do an nsfw ver soon so yuh. Also thank you guys so much for 500 followers, I know im behind on a lot of stories rn so js bear with me pls 😭

also I’m so tired of seeing people canon toji as a bad husband/bf bc like y r we acting like he didn’t take his wife’s name?!? Like sure he may be broke in the show but that’s js bc his ass was gambling all his money away, anyways hope u enjoyed ;3

Likes, comments, and rebloggs appreciated!!

divider creds: @cafekitsune

[dreamersparacosm]

jeon jungkook - handle with care

warnings ; oral (f recieving), he hits it from the back, hair pulling, blue collar dick🚨🚨

prompt ; in which your landlord sends an electrician to fix your power, and you end up learning firsthand the magic of blue collar dick.

note ; if you are reading this.. this is a queue’d post while im in MEXICO!!!!! you horny little sluts really thought i would leave you alone for 5 days.. i would never. i figured — hey if i can’t post part 5 of tpod i can at least give a life lesson on blue collar dick, right? backstory here is that the other day my best friend and i had a conversation about our sexy ass landlord and that got me thinking… jungkook..? blue collar..? big dick..? so anyways this is the product of that convo! (and also a standalone one shot bc yall be loving these!)

Later, when someone asks you to recap this story, you’ll say that in your defense, you weren’t expecting the electrician to look like he walked straight off some cringy Pornhub set. You’ll say you just wanted your electricity fixed, not to be spiritually humbled by a man who smells like sawdust and pine.

Your apartment is the kind of place that builds character. And by character, you mean mild trauma.

The kitchen light flickers like it’s been possessed since the day you moved in. The ceiling creaks when your upstairs neighbor sneezes. Your shower only has two settings (arctic and molten lava). There’s a weird stain on the ceiling you’ve been ignoring for three months. And today, of all days, the universe decided to cut the last thread holding your sanity together: the power.

No lights. No working outlets. No WiFi. Which means you’re sitting on your couch, in a hoodie and shorts, trying to hotspot your laptop with 3% battery left while rage-texting your landlord like you’re filing an official grievance with Satan himself.

You immediately text your landlord, fully expecting a five-day delay and a $30 deduction off your next rent.

You: hi. respectfully. what the FUCK is happening?

You: i work from home. i pay rent. i have needs. pls fix ASAP.

He replies five minutes later like he’s doing you a personal favor.

Landlord: sending my guy over. 15 mins.

Your landlord is somehow both your greatest nemesis and your weirdest emotional support system. He’ll ignore three maintenance requests, ghost you for a week, then show up unannounced with a half-eaten bag of Hot Cheetos. You’ve threatened to sue him in writing and sent him a happy birthday meme in the same month. And you’re already halfway into a mental spiral about “his guy” being a 60-year-old with pants that don’t stay up and opinions about the current political climate when there’s a knock at your door.

You swing the door open, fully expecting to see a crusty old man with a clipboard and a wheeze, and instead, you see… (and you’ll remember this moment until the day you die.)

Lip ring. Tattoo sleeve. Tool belt slung low over cargo pants. A black tee stretched across broad shoulders. Jesus Christ, the hair. Dark, slightly shaggy, pushed back on top but long in the back, curling at the nape of his neck in a way that should not be allowed near unsupervised women.

“Hey’,” he says, like this isn’t a pivotal moment in your sexual awakening. “I’m here about the outage?”

You blink at him. You are officially unfit for conversation.

This man has a mullet. A tattooed, lip-ringed, mullet-wearing man is standing in your hallway holding a voltage tester like its foreplay.

Suddenly, your pajama shorts feel too short for this moment. You fumble with the doorknob, “Uh. Yeah. Come in. It’s, uh.. yeah.”

Brilliant. Shakespeare could never.

He steps inside, and holy shit, he’s even taller than you thought. The kind of tall that makes your ceilings feel shorter. The kind of tall where you have to crane your neck just slightly to look up at him, which is offensive because you’re not exactly short yourself. He smells like a mix of sawdust, a hint of pine, laundry detergent, and a 2002 Nissan Altima. It’s oddly specific.

He glances around like he’s surveying a battlefield. “Power cut out completely?”

You nod, shuffling behind him as he moves farther into your apartment with the kind of confidence like he’s somehow been to your home before. His boots thud across your hardwood floor, scuffed and loud. The tool belt clinks. His shirt rides up when he stretches his arm to check something near the ceiling and there’s a flash of golden skin and low-slung cargo pants and—

You’re not doing well.

He pops open the panel in the ceiling like it’s nothing. “Y’all been having issues with this before? Flickering? Dead outlets?”

“Sometimes the kitchen light hums like it’s possessed,” you say, which you regret immediately. “I mean, not literally possessed. Not like.. haunted. Just… you know. Buzzing.”

He chuckles. It’s a low, gravelly sound that sinks its teeth into your spine and doesn’t let go.

“Probably a loose connection in the junction box. Nothing too crazy,” he says, grabbing something from his belt that you will now dream about tonight. “You work from home?”

You nod again, helpless. “Yeah. Marketing.”

He glances back at you. “Tough with no WiFi.”

You turn around under the guise of “letting him work” but really just to text your roommate, Sana, with trembling fingers.

You: help. our power went out and the electrician we got sent is so hot

You: he has a MULLET. a mullet, sana. he said “junction box” and i almost moaned

You hear him grunt softly as he stretches to reach something and you nearly drop your phone.

Sana: SEND A PIC RN

You sneak a glance back — he’s perched on your step stool, arms flexing as he reaches into the ceiling. His hair is curling perfectly at the back of his neck, a little messy from the heat.

You don’t send a pic. You can’t. It feels criminal. You feel like you’re watching live porn with consequences.

Then he speaks again, casually. “You smell something burning last night? Or anything weird before it cut out?”

You nearly say “just my ovaries,” but God reaches down and slaps your mouth shut.

Instead, you clear your throat. “Nope. No sparks, no smell. It just… died this morning.”

He nods, focused. “Might be a fuse then. I’ll check the basement in a sec.”

He drops down from the stool with a casual thud and wipes his hands on that rag in his back pocket. That ass, that rag. This is no longer an apartment. It’s a crime scene.

You glance up just in time to see him walking toward your front door, lifting the back of his shirt to wipe his forehead. You black out for a second.

You: he just wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his shirt. i saw ab muscle. like cut definition. i think it smiled at me.

Sana: you need jail or a CONDOM stat. get his number???

You’re halfway through typing “I don’t even know his name yet” when the front door opens behind you, and you almost launch your phone across the room like it’s a grenade.

He steps back into your apartment with that casual, unbothered energy he’s so good at carrying. Hair slightly damp at the edges now, cheeks pink from the walk up your stairs, tool belt still jingling.

“Basement breaker’s fine,” he says, brushing his palm down the front of his shirt. “Might be a wiring issue. Gonna check one more thing.”

You blink. Nod. Attempt human speech. Fail. “Cool. Yeah. Check… stuff.”

Christ. You sound like you learned English from Duolingo five minutes ago.

He smiles then, actually smiles. Full teeth, little bunny front ones peeking out. His lip ring glints as he does it, and your brain goes completely static for a second.

“Want some water?” you blurt, and immediately hate yourself. “Or iced tea? Or, whatever I have in the fridge that isn’t expired?”

He huffs out a little laugh, shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good. But thanks, sweetheart.”

You freeze like you’ve been slapped by a porn star. He walks past you again like nothing happened, reaching for something in his tool bag, completely unaware that your soul just evacuated your body.

You unlock your phone immediately, fingers trembling, and text in all caps.

You: HE CALLED ME SWEETHEART.

You: arrest him. make him marry me. i don’t care just make it LEGAL

You barely get the message out when he turns slightly and casually, and says, “So… you live here with your boyfriend, or…?”

You blink hard.

The question hangs there, just slightly too relaxed. Like it’s not loaded with potential. Like it’s not every Wattpad plotline you’ve ever read come to life in front of your half-broken Ikea bookshelf.

Your brain short-circuits harder than your kitchen socket. Is he flirting? Was that… are you being flirted with? It’s been a minute. Like, a long minute since you’ve had someone show genuine interest in you. You can’t tell anymore. He could be asking because he needs to know whose ass he’s about to get chewed out by if he knocks something over, or because he’s just curious.

You manage to croak out, “Just my roommate. Sana.”

He nods and doesn’t press. He lets out a low, distracted, “Hm,” like that’s useful information. Like it slots into place somewhere in his head and he’s okay with it.

You, meanwhile, are mentally drafting a will because you’re not sure your heart’s going to survive the rest of this visit.

He leans over your couch armrest to reach the outlet near the floor. His cargo pants pull slightly tighter around his thighs and you look away so fast you give yourself whiplash. You try to look normal, like a woman who isn’t catastrophically horny over someone adjusting your voltage.

You: HE ASKED IF I HAD A BOYFRIEND

Sana: I AM SCREAMING. I’M IN LINE AT TRADER JOE’S. OFFER TO MAKE HIM LEMONADE OR SIT ON HIS FACE IDK CHOOSE FAST

He stands back up, wiping his palms on that stupid fucking rag again, and glances over his shoulder. “Shouldn’t take much longer,” he quips with that lazy, dangerous smile.

You nod, eyes wide, pretending you’re normal. “Cool. Thanks. No rush or anything. It’s not like I need power to… survive.”

He quirks a brow at that, like he finds you kind of funny, or kind of tragic.

You sit on the couch, phone hidden in your lap like it’s a shameful secret. He crouches near another outlet, testing something with one of those little gadgets that beeps and blinks.

“So, marketing,” he says over his shoulder. “Like… ads?”

You blink. “Uh. Yeah. I work for a beauty brand. Mostly social media, some campaign strategy. Lots of pretending I know what I’m doing and hoping the algorithm doesn’t hate me that day.”

He chuckles. That low, amused sound that makes your toes curl. “That why you’re so good at talking?”

You freeze. “What?”

He glances back, smile creeping in slow and lazy. There’s an unfortunate amount of sarcasm behind his tone. “You seem to stumble a bit over words.”

You blink again, officially out of working brain cells. “Sorry. I—I can stop. I don’t mean to be annoying, I just—”

“I didn’t say it was annoying.” He doesn’t look at you when he says it. He crouches lower again, tapping something against the outlet. But you hear it anyway and feel it, low in your stomach like a dropped elevator.

Your phone buzzes in your lap, blessedly interrupting the moment before you combust.

Sana: girl. do i need to walk around the block or are you gonna fuck him. be honest.

You bite your lip so hard you nearly draw blood. He straightens up, wiping his palms again. “So do you like it? The job?”

“Oh. Um. Yeah. It’s… stressful. But fun, sometimes. I guess,” You scratch the back of your neck.

“You good at it?” He grunts out, looking for something in his toolbox.

Your mind blanks. “What?”

He turns to look at you full-on now, arms crossed, shirt clinging to the curve of his shoulders. “Marketing. All that stuff. You good at it?”

You let out a nervous little laugh. “I mean, I hope so. I’ve been doing it for a few years now, and nobody’s fired me yet.”

“That’s not what I asked.” His tone isn’t aggressive. It’s low and relaxed. But something about the way he says it makes your pulse skip.

“I… I think I am,” you say, slower this time.

He nods once as if that answer pleases him. “You seem like you’d be.”

You’re gonna die. You’re going to actually die. This man is being nice to you, and it feels like your body isn’t prepared for that level of stimulus.

You glance at your phone again.

Sana: WHY ARE YOU TAKING THIS LONG TO RESPOND??? IS HIS DICK OUT. BLINK TWICE

You look back up and he’s leaning against the doorframe that divides your kitchen and living room now, arms still crossed, lip ring catching the light. “So your roommate…?”

You nod, trying not to choke. “Yeah. Her name’s Sana. We’ve lived together since college.”

“She at work?” You swear he looks at your legs in your shorts, but could also be wishful thinking.

“Not right now. She works night shifts at the hospital 15 minutes away from here.,” You twiddle your thumbs in your lap.

He hums, still watching you. “So you’re here all alone today.”

It’s not a question. It shouldn’t be hot. It’s just a sentence. But, the way he says it? The tone? The slight lilt at the end, like it means more than it says?

You let out a strangled sound that you hope reads as a laugh. “Yeah. Just me. Alone. In this… apartment. Where you are. Currently.”

He tilts his head, smiling again. “You’re kind of funny for someone with no electricity.”

You hesitate. Then, blurting before you can stop yourself, “And you’re kind of cocky for someone who still hasn’t turned my lights on yet.”

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk slowly appearing. “Hm?”

You shake your head way too fast. “I mean—just—like, you’ve been here for a bit now and you’re fixing my power and it is taking quite long, but I promise I’m not mad about it.. I’m sorry.”

He lets out a real laugh this time. Full, low, and stupidly hot. He pushes off the wall and walks back toward the kitchen like he didn’t just wreck your central nervous system.

You take another breath and text Sana.

You: he’s flirting. he’s literally flirting. i want to crawl inside the oven

Sana: girl. jump on the counter and say “while you’re fixing things, i’m also broken.”

Almost like he was trying to prove a point to you, the lights come back on with a quiet click, a whirr of electricity humming back to life through your walls, and you swear the sound might as well be a death knell.

He steps back from the panel in your hallway, tapping the side of it with a knuckle like he just fixed your entire infrastructure. “There we go,” he says, “Should be good now. Might’ve just been a loose connection behind the breaker, it’s common in these old buildings.”

You nod slowly, like you understood a single word of that. All you really heard was competency and your brain whispered: breedable.

“That’s… great,” you reply, way too softly. “Thanks.”

He wipes his hands again on that same rag and starts packing up his tools, metal clicking together as he slips things back into place. His forearm flexes with every movement, tattoos shifting across his skin like they’re in on the joke.

“Need help with anything else?” he asks casually, not looking at you as he zips up the tool bag. His voice dips slightly.

Your heart stutters. You should say actually, yeah, my back is acting up and I think the solution involves that couch and maybe you using me like a handrail. But instead you go, “Nope. That’s all.”

Your phone vibrates against your thigh, dragging you back to earth.

Sana: have you ever heard of blue collar dick??? this is ur chance

You squint at that text, thumbs pausing mid-reply.

Blue collar dick.

The phrase unlocks something buried deep in your brain. A memory. A TikTok you watched half-asleep one night at 1:37AM, under the glow of your LED lights, while eating dry cereal out of a mug. The girl had looked straight into the camera, wide-eyed and deadly serious, and whispered: “Blue collar dick is not just a concept. It’s a lifestyle. It’s the kind of unholy grip someone develops on you after a man with calloused hands and a union paycheck fixes your sink and rearranges your soul in the same afternoon.”

You’d laughed. Scoffed, even. How dramatic.

He zips up the last pouch on his tool bag and stands tall, glancing toward the door like he might head that way but he doesn’t. He stays.

He rolls his shoulder a little, absently adjusting the strap, and you watch his fingers drag across the curve of his neck.

“You think everything working alright?” he asks, voice low and unhurried like he’s trying to fill the silence. Like he knows you’re still stuck in some sort of horny trance and he’s being generous enough to let you catch up.

“Yeah,” you say, breathier than intended. “Power’s on. Looks like the WiFi is back. I can check if my laptop came back to life.”

You gesture toward your computer like it matters. Like any of that is worth focusing on when he is standing six feet from you.

He hums, looking around your living room where you��re still on your couch. “Place is cute.”

You blink. “Oh. Uh. Thanks. It’s… falling apart slowly, but charming.”

He doesn’t really acknowledge that. “Anything else broken in here?” he asks, stepping away from the wall a little. “Leaky faucet? Shaky table leg? My dad taught me how to fix a ton of stuff, I’m pretty handy with anything. You want me to check something else?”

Your mouth opens and closes. Your brain struggles to find the words, and the words you want to say are not coming out easily, so you just respond with, “No. I mean… no, I think we’re good. You fixed the lights.”

His eyes flicker and stay on you just a second too long. Then he shifts slightly, sets the tool box down again with a thud, and stretches his arms overhead like he’s got nowhere to be. Shirt rides up just enough for you to see the line of his waistband and the shadow of toned skin beneath it, and you almost bite your tongue off.

“You sure?” he asks again, tone casual, almost amused now. “You looked kinda… bummed when the lights came back on.”

Your head jerks up. “What? No. I wasn’t.. I mean, not bummed. Just surprised. Happy. Grateful. Electrified, if you will.”

Electrified. You’re going to throw yourself off the balcony.

He laughs again, and you swear it vibrates in your chest. “I could hang out a sec,” he offers, and it’s not subtle anymore. “Just make sure everything stays stable. Sometimes the lights will turn back off randomly.”

Everything’s stable, you repeat in your brain like an idiot. I am not.

He’s leaning one shoulder against the wall now, lazy and relaxed, eyes still on you like he’s just waiting to see what you’ll say next.

Before your brain can stop your mouth from doing anything reckless, you blurt out, “Have you eaten?”

His brows lift. “What?”

You clear your throat. “Lunch. Have you had any?”

He tilts his head, eyes flickering down to your mouth for one half-second too long. “Not yet,” he says, “Didn’t get the chance.”

You nod like this is normal. Like offering food to electricians with tool belts and stupidly sexy mullets is part of your daily routine. “I can make you something if you want.”

His mouth curves, slow and teasing. “Yeah? You feed all the guys your landlord sends over?”

You roll your eyes so hard they nearly eject from your skull. “Only the ones who save me from having to live in darkness.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Then yeah. I’m kinda hungry.”

He walks over to where you’re sitting, drops his bag beside the couch, stretches with a casual groan that shoots straight between your thighs, and flops onto your couch like he’s done it a hundred times. Like your couch is a perfectly acceptable throne for his man-spreading, bicep-showcasing, very-much-staying presence.

You twiddle your fingers, “If i make you food, it’s only right if I get your name.”

Smooth. Real fucking smooth.

“Jungkook,” He looks over to you, trying to bite back a grin. “And yours is [Y/N], right? Saw it on the assignment sheet.”

“Yup. Cool,” You gulp down some saliva that was lodged in your throat.

You march to the kitchen like a woman on a mission, flinging the fridge open with the determination of someone prepping for an exorcism. It’s not that you want to impress him. It’s just that… okay. No. You do want to impress him. You want to serve this man a sandwich so good he files a formal complaint against your thighs for being too far from his face.

You find good bread. Not the sad white slices. You find turkey. Cheese. Lettuce that isn’t slimy. A tomato you aggressively pat dry with a paper towel like a psychotic housewife. You toast the bread and add a little mustard. You even cut the sandwich diagonally, because if you’re going to be delusional, you’re going to be domestically deranged about it.

Your phone buzzes for the billionth time.

Sana: DID YOU FUCK HIM YET

You ignore her. You grab a little paper plate with a cup of water and a napkin and present this meal like you are some Michelin chef. You walk it out carefully, feeling like you should have a white linen apron and one of those vintage Coke ads playing behind you.

“Damn,” he says when you hand it to him, voice warm with surprise. “You really went all out.”

You shrug, trying to act chill. “Just a sandwich.”

He takes a bite and groans.“No, this is next level. Wife-tier sandwich.”

Your face goes hot. You sit down beside him on the couch, one cushion away, legs crossed, heart racing. You grab your phone and finally reply to Sana before she drives to the apartment and physically removes you.

You: sana i need you to take a lap. actually take a five-mile lap. this house needs to be mine for two hours minimum.

Sana: i will literally be gone until sunset

You set your phone down and glance at him again. He’s halfway through the sandwich already, clearly enjoying the hell out of it, crumbs on his fingers, lip ring glinting as he chews.

“So,” you say casually, “how’d you get into electrical work?”

He swallows, wipes his mouth, and shrugs. “Started out helping my uncle with his crew back home. Learned enough on the job that I stuck with it. Took the exam, got certified, picked up my own clients.”

“That’s hot,” you say before thinking.

He pauses, blinks, then smirks again. “Yeah?”

You want to shrivel into the cushions. “I mean, just like the hands-on thing. Fixing stuff. Being good with your hands.”

He glances at you, faintly amused. “It’s a bold choice… Flirting with the guy who knows your wires inside out better than you ever could.”

You’ve made your decision. You’ve committed to the bit. You’re going to have him. You don’t care how. You don’t care if it’s a terrible idea. You’re already halfway there, and if blue collar dick is a myth, you’d like to be the one to confirm or deny it firsthand. You smile, tilting your head. “I like living on the edge.”

He finishes the sandwich and sets the plate on your coffee table with a little sigh. “Damn. Guess I should’ve been in this line of work sooner.”

You let out a soft laugh, glancing at him through your lashes like you’re not actively in the process of losing your mind.

He shifts slightly on the couch, one arm thrown casually along the back cushion, knee brushing yours now, and your whole body tightens at the contact. You look down at his hand, rough, calloused, fingers spread just enough to imagine what they’d feel like anywhere else.

Focus. Focus.

“So,” you start, aiming for casual but landing somewhere around unhinged, “do you, like… do this for a lot of people?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Fix electricity?”

You laugh too fast. “No! Well, yeah. I mean. Yes. But like… do you do this for one person a lot? Regularly? Like… someone special. Like a client. A consistent client.”

He’s still watching you, brows slightly raised, clearly trying to follow your logic. “Huh?”

You look down, embarrassed. Shit. Too subtle. You double back. “Sorry, I meant… like… is there someone who, you know, gets their power fixed all the time? Like a… girlfriend?”

Oh my god. Girlfriend. You say it like you’ve never spoken English before, like the concept of casual inquiry never existed.

His lips tugging up like he knows exactly what you’re asking. “Nah,” he replies. “No girlfriend.”

He reaches for the glass of water you’d set on the coffee table earlier, and you watch his throat work as he takes a slow gulp. His lip ring catches the light again, and your brain completely flatlines.

No girlfriend.

No girlfriend. That’s… fine. That’s great. That’s also dangerous.

Your heart is pounding so loud in your ears you barely register that he hasn’t looked away. When he sets the glass down again, his eyes don’t drift back to his phone or the room or the vague distance.

They stay locked on you.

You shift slightly, suddenly hyperaware of how close you’re sitting. His fingers are still relaxed against the couch cushion, a breath away from the curve of your shoulder.

“Should I expect a full background check with your next outage?”he says, voice low now.

You’re officially in the danger zone now with no intentions of stopping. “Already ran yours. Five star reviews all around. “

He chuckles, quietly. “I’m honored.”

Your breath catches. It’s a small sound. Barely audible. But his gaze dips lower at the sound of it, flickering between your mouth and your throat. He doesn’t hide it anymore. There’s no playfulness left.

“Stop staring” you mutter, trying to keep your voice even.

He lifts a brow. “I’m not.”

“Are you… thinking about kissing me?” This is worse than that one time in 10th grade when you got put in a closet with your crush and you practically slammed him against the door begging him to kiss you.

However, Jungkook doesn’t smile or smile. His gaze lingers on your lips still like he’s counting the seconds. “Would that be a problem?”

Your stomach drops. The air between you turns solid. “No,” you say softly. “It’d be the opposite of a problem.”

He doesn’t move right away, or lunge and lean in. He lets the silence fill with heat, with potential, like he wants you to feel the choice stretch out and make sure you want it just as much as he does. (Is he insane? Of course you do)

You want him to kiss you so bad it’s physically painful. Every nerve in your body is waiting for it, screaming for it, for the weight of his hand on your jaw, the feel of his lip ring pressing into yours.

You inch just slightly closer and your knee brushes against his fully now. Your face is tilted up toward his without even thinking.

“Are you gonna?” you whisper, voice barely there.

His eyes flicker again and then he smiles. “Thought you’d never ask.”

He leans in, not in some clumsy rush. He drags it out just long enough for you to feel your whole body tense with anticipation. His hand finds your jaw first, thumb brushing your cheek, fingers curling gently under your chin.

And then his mouth is on yours.

He kisses you like it’s his job, like he’s done this a thousand times but still finds something new in the shape of your lips. His mouth moves with intention, none of that awkward fumbling, none of the soft, shy hesitation. It’s confident. His lip ring drags against your lower lip and you actually whimper, because of course he knows how to use it.

He groans low in his throat when your fingers knot in the front of his shirt, tugging him closer. One hand slips around the back of your neck, the other finding your waist, pulling you across the couch and into him like he can’t stand even a breath of space between you.

He tastes like faint mint and the sandwich you made him. Your legs shift, tangling with his. His hand is already on your thigh, rough palm skimming under the hem of your shorts, gripping hard enough to make your breath stutter into his mouth.

You gasp when he bites down lightly, but enough to make you feel it. He soothes it with a kiss immediately after, dragging his mouth down your jaw, and murmurs into your skin, “You’re a good kisser.”

You could die. You could die right now and it would be worth it.

You tilt your head back to give him more access, voice breathless. “Yeah? You’re not so bad yourself.”

That earns you another groan, this one deeper, more possessive. His hand slides up your side, under your hoodie, fingers grazing bare skin and making your back arch instinctively.

He kisses you again, messier now and wetter. Tongues tangling, teeth clashing. His fingers sink into your thigh, pull you closer until you’re practically straddling him on the couch and you feel him, hard beneath his cargo pants, pressed against your hip like a threat.

“You sure you don’t need anything else fixed?” he murmurs against your mouth.

And all you can do is nod, eyes heavy, hands trembling against his chest as you whisper: “Hmm. I think my body is out of order. Needs fixing.”

Big hands grip your thighs, and with one swift, greedy motion, he’s pushing you back into the couch cushions. You land with a quiet gasp, hair fanned out, lips swollen, hoodie riding up over your stomach.

He’s hovering, body caged above yours, weight pressed into one arm braced beside your head, the other skimming up your waist and dragging your hoodie even higher. His silver chain dangles loose from his neck and every time he leans down to kiss you again, it smacks against your throat, cold and heavy, sending a shiver straight through you.

He groans when you arch up into him, letting your hips roll slightly, needy and desperate, and he feels it, feels how bad you want him and how worked up you are.

His bicep flexes beside your head, holding himself up so he doesn’t crush you but you kind of wish he would. You let your hand drift up, fingertips grazing the muscle slowly, shamelessly.

Holy fuck, he’s strong.

Strong in the way that makes your thighs press together, that makes you want to find out what else those arms can hold you down against. You squeeze just a little, test the resistance, and he grins against your lips.

“That’s what you’re thinkin’ about?” he murmurs, dragging his mouth to your neck now, teeth grazing your jaw. “My arms?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your brain is literally melting.

He licks a stripe up the side of your throat and bites, just enough to make you whimper, and the damn chain swings again, cold against the same spot.

“You like that?” he asks, “Hmm?”

You nod frantically, whining. You’re gone.

His hand slides down to grip your thigh again, hiking it up around his waist, and the angle has you gasping. His hips dip into yours just enough to make it obvious: he’s hard, and he’s not even trying to hide it now.

“You gonna let me take care of you?” he mutters, biting your earlobe. “Since you fed me and everything. Feels only fair.”

You nod again, breathless. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he says, lips brushing yours. “Been thinkin’ about kissing you since the second you opened that door.”

His hands are already slipping under the hem of your hoodie, thumbs dragging across the skin of your waist as he mutters, low and sinful, “Lift your hips for me.”

You do instantly and he slides your shorts down so slowly it feels like punishment. They snag slightly at your thighs before he gets them off, flinging them somewhere over the armrest, and then he just stares. Lets his eyes drag from your knees to the place between your thighs like he’s about to pray and commit a felony in the same breath.

You’re not even fully naked, but you already feel exposed. Every part of you twitching with anticipation because the way this man looks at you? It’s like he already knows what you taste like.

He lowers himself, right between your knees and spreads your legs open with two hands and drags your body closer to him.

“You’re already shaking,” he whispers, lips brushing along the inside of your thigh. “What’s got you so worked up, sweetheart?”

You want to answer. You try to answer. But then he presses a kiss right above your knee, then lower and lower. It’s like he’s savoring every inch of you, kissing a trail up your thigh like you’re dessert and he’s been starving all day.

When he finally gets to your underwear, he lets out a low hum.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, thumb dragging along the edge. “You’re soaked.”

You choke on your own spit. He hooks his fingers under the waistband, and looks up at you, eyes dark. You’re propped up on your elbows, watching him like you’re in a live-action fantasy, because that’s exactly what it feels like.

“Gonna take these off now,” he says, almost too gently.

You nod like a bobblehead. “Please.”

He tugs them down painfully slow, and when they slip off your legs and drop to the floor, he doesn’t even hesitate. He just dives in.

Tongue flat, broad, ruthless against you, dragging through your folds. You jolt, hips bucking off the couch, and his hands immediately slide up to pin you down, fingers bruising your thighs as he holds you in place.

He moans into you, tongue curling, lips wrapping around your clit with slow, maddening pressure. The suction makes you cry out, hand flying to grab at his hair, soft, messy strands you curl your fingers into.

“Fuck, J-Jungkook,” you gasp. His grip tightens on your thighs in response. He flattens his tongue again, licking long and slow, nose nudging against your clit just enough to make your legs shake. Then he shifts, tilts his head just slightly, and flicks the tip of his tongue in tight, fast circles.

You swear you see God.

He doesn’t stop, and it’s obscene how good it is. You can hear it. Mapping out every flick, every swirl, every suck that makes your thighs twitch and your head fall back in helpless, high-pitched whines.

He’s so good at it, it’s almost infuriating. Like he’s been training for this specific moment, like he knew your body before you ever laid eyes on his goddamn toolbelt.

“Shit,” you whimper, your fingers gripping the edge of the couch like you’ll fall off the earth if he keeps going.

He pulls back barely, enough to murmur against your soaked skin, “What’s that, sweetheart?”

You look down at him, wide-eyed and desperate, and the sight makes your stomach flip.

His eyes are dark, heavy-lidded, locked on yours with zero shame. His lips are wet, his lip ring gleaming, his chain dragging down your thigh. His hands are still gripping your legs tight. “You’re already shaking,” he taunts, “You gonna fall apart before I even get my fingers in?”

You let out a sound you don’t recognize. Your hips buck without permission, trying to chase more friction, more pressure, anything, and he laughs.

“Thought you were gonna take it,” he mutters, kissing your inner thigh again, right where it’s already slick. “Thought you were tough.”

“Jungkook,” Your voice breaks.

“Yeah, baby?” he smiles, “Want more?”

You nod frantically. “Please. Please, please.”

“Mmhmm.” He drags his tongue back up, slow and torturous. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want—” you gasp as he suckles your clit again, just hard enough to make your legs spasm. “I want your fingers please. I can’t—”

“You can,” he says, way too calm. “You’re gonna. Not done with you yet.”

He slides one hand down between your thighs, dragging his fingers through your slick folds, slow and unhurried. You feel the first press of his fingertip at your entrance and it’s over.

When he finally pushes in just one thick finger, your mouth drops open in a silent gasp. It feels so good, too good.

“You’re so tight, baby,” he notes more to himself than to you. “Fuck. Gripping already.”

He curls his finger and you practically wail. You slap a hand over your mouth but he sees it, and then lowers his mouth back down to your clit like he’s starving for it.

His tongue and his finger move in tandem. Circles and pressure and heat all at once, building you up, pushing you higher, dragging desperate sounds out of you that you’ve never made before.

“Jungkook, fuck, please,” you sob, grabbing at his hair. “Please, I need—”

“You need what?” he murmurs against you, adding a second finger slowly, the stretch perfect, his mouth never leaving your clit.

“I need, need to cum, please—”

“Nah,” he says, eyes flicking up to meet yours as his fingers start to fuck into you even deeper, “Not yet.”

You’re near tears at this point.

He flattens his tongue and moans into you, and your hips jerk off the couch. Your hands are clutching at him now, your stomach tightening, thighs trembling around his head as he talks you through it.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he exhales, eyes locked on your face. “All needy and loud. Fuck, baby. I could eat you all day.”

You’re so close it hurts. He can feel it, the way your walls clench around his fingers, sucking him in.

“That’s it,” he coaxes, voice hoarse against you. “Come on, pretty girl. Cum for me.”

And you do, embarrassingly hard. It crashes over you like a power surge, hot and fast and blinding. Your hips jerk, your mouth drops open in a silent cry, and you’re cumming so hard you forget your own name.

He doesn’t stop until you’re twitching, until your legs are shaking uncontrollably and you’re pushing at his shoulder with a broken gasp.

Still, he doesn’t let up. His tongue is relentless, fingers even more ruthless. You’re sweating, teary-eyed and so close you’re practically vibrating, when you finally snap.

“Jungkook,” you moan, throat raw. “I need you to fuck me. Please. I can’t—“

That gets him to cease. He pulls back, mouth soaked, lip ring gleaming. His hand lingers between your thighs for a second longer before he pushes himself up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, panting.

You reach up, fingers clutching the front of his shirt, dragging him down so you can kiss him. You taste yourself on his tongue, and it just makes it worse, makes you needier.

He stands up, stripping down as fast as humanly possible. The black tee comes off first, revealing a chest that’s all muscle, abs that flex when he tosses the shirt aside. Then the cargo pants get shoved down, and…

Holy fucking shit.

It swings free and heavy into his palm, and you gasp.

That’s what they meant by blue collar dick. Thick, veiny, the prettiest goddamn cock you’ve ever seen. Long, curved just right, flushed and leaking at the tip as he wraps his hand around the base and starts stroking himself, slow and lazy.

He tilts his head back with a low groan, lashes fluttering, chain swinging over his chest and you just stare.

You’ve seen good dick before. You’ve had great dick, even. This is different. This is the kind of dick that installs central air and breaks bed frames. The kind that fucks through creaky floorboards, says “good girl” like a prophet, and pays in cash everywhere.

“Yeah?” he rasps, still jerking himself slowly, eyes dark as he looks down at you. “You want it, baby?”

You nod like your life depends on it. “Please. Need it so bad.”

He doesn’t waste another second. “Turn over,” he says, voice commanding. “Face down, ass up. I want that spine arched.”

You scramble to obey, flipping onto your stomach, shoving your hoodie up out of the way. You bury your face in the couch cushion, arms stretched forward, hips high in the air and the sound Jungkook makes behind you is inhuman.

“Fucking hell,” he licks his lips, hands gripping your hips, thumbs spreading you open. “Look at you.”

You feel him line up behind you, thick head sliding through your slick folds, teasing but not pushing in yet, and your whole body twitches.

“You’re perfect like this,” he says, one hand sliding up your back, pressing between your shoulder blades until your arch deepens. “Back all pretty, ass in the air, soaked for me. Fuck, baby.”

He leans forward, voice rasping hot in your ear. “You gonna take it for me like this, yeah? Gonna let me fuck you nice and deep?”

You moan out, whimpering into the pillow. “Yes. Yes, please.”

“Atta girl.”

He pushes in slow, allowing you to feel every inch. You feel the thick, burning stretch of him as he sinks in deeper, splitting you open around his cock. Your breath catches on a whimper, eyes rolling back as he fills you.

“Fuuuuck,” you choke out, voice strangled. “You’re so big.”

Behind you, Jungkook lets out a guttural groan.

“Yeah?” he rasps, still sliding in, forcing your walls to open around him. “That too much for you, baby?”

You shake your head, barely able to breathe, cheek pressed into the cushion. “No, no, it’s so good, just, fuck—”

He bottoms out, hips flush against your ass, and you swear you see stars. You’re so full it’s almost unbearable, like he’s in your stomach, You’ve never felt anything like it; your walls clenching, dripping, pulsing and he’s barely even moved yet.

He pulls out halfway and slams back in, then does it again… and again… and again.

His pace is brutal, deep, pounding thrusts that send shockwaves through your spine and bounce off the walls. Skin slapping, the obscene wet squelch of your cunt sucking him in over and over, the couch creaking beneath you. You’re a full mess under him, and he’s moaning now too.

“Fuck,”Jungkook growls behind you, breath ragged. “You hear that? You hear how wet you are for me?”

You do. The sound of your pussy squelching around his cock is loud, echoing with every thrust as your juices coat his length and drip down your thighs onto the couch cushions below.

“Fucking soaked,” he growls again, hips snapping into you.

His hand finds your hair, grabbing a fistful at the base of your neck and pulling. Your head lifts from the pillow you grabbed from nearby in a panic, back arched to its limit, body bent like a bowstring as he fucks into you harder now that he has you right where he wants you.

“Taking it so good, baby,” he pants, yanking your head back just enough to make you moan. He keeps pounding into you, dragging that cock so deep it feels like he’s carving himself into your soul, keeping your head held high by your hair, whispering filth that makes your legs shake.

“You wanna cum, don’t you?” he growls, tone thick and mean. “Wanna fall apart right here on my cock?”

You’re shaking too hard to answer, all that’s coming out are some babbles you nor him have any energy to interpret. Somehow, your brain flashes back to that fucking TikTok. That girl that described “blue collar dick” like it was some natural disaster.

Now you’re living it.

You’re bent over on your own couch, spine arched, tears in your eyes, unable to even think as Jungkook wrecks you with his cock and whispers filthy praise in your ear like it’s his job. This is blue collar dick. This is the goddamn thesis statement of that TikTok. You’re going to send that girl flowers.

“Please,” you cry, “Please, Jungkook.”

“Yeah?” he pants, breath hot against your neck as his fingers reach down and work your clit cruelly enough to keep you from tipping over. “That desperate for it, sweetheart?”

You nod, choking out sobs, your body twitching around him, clenching hard enough that he starts to fall apart.

“Fuck,” he groans, cock twitching inside you. “You’re so tight. Keep squeezing me like that and I’m gonna cum before you do.”

You moan loud into the pillow, your whole body wrecked and burning, still locked in this purgatory he’s created, his cock fucking you deep and hard, his fingers rolling over your clit with precision, holding you right there.

“Say it,” he growls, “Tell me how bad you need it.”

“I need it, please, I need it so bad. I can’t, I’m so close, please let me cum.” Your self -control has exited the apartment.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he grits out behind you, “Fuck, baby, feel how tight you are? How bad your pussy wants to cum for me?”

You can’t answer. You’re drooling into the pillow, gasping, your body jerking with every thrust like you’re being electrocuted.

“Let go,” he groans, voice shaking. “You’re gonna cum for me now, yeah? Go on, baby. Fucking cum.”

The second his thumb presses tightly just right against your clit, you shatter. It hits you like a wave. Your body locks up, thighs clenching, back arching so hard it lifts your hips even higher as your orgasm rips through you, hot and overwhelming. You scream as your pussy clenches around his cock, pulsing and gushing as you cum so hard your vision goes white.

Your arms give out completely. You collapse forward onto the couch with a breathless sob, ass still arched up as your cunt throbs around him, wetness dripping down your thighs in sticky trails. Your face is buried in the cushion, your legs are trembling.

“Oh my fuck,” Jungkook groans, “Just like that. You feel that, baby? Feel how good it is when you cum on me?”

He curses, pulls out fast and you let out a weak little cry at the loss, at the ache he leaves behind.

But then he’s jerking himself over you, his hand wrapped tight around his cock, wrist snapping fast, hips stuttering as he pants over you, chasing his own high.

His head tilts back, bottom lip tucked under his top teeth. A deep, broken moan is ripped straight from his chest as his hips twitch forward and he spills across the curve of your ass in thick, hot ropes. His chain swings with the motion, clinking gently as he fucks his fist through it, painting your skin in messy, perfect streaks.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” he groans, his eyes squeezed shut. “You’re… fuck, baby. You’re unreal.”

You’re too far gone to speak.

You stay face-down on the couch for a full minute post-impact, naked and glazed like a donut.

Jungkook exhales somewhere behind you, like he too is processing the life-altering events that just occurred in your living room. You hear his body move as he leans back, chest rising and falling, the distinct sound of a man who just came so hard he forgot his social security number.

There’s cum on your ass. Your hair’s stuck to your cheek. The throw pillow has a bite mark in it. You are not well.

You finally lift your head a fraction of an inch. “I think I just met God.”

Jungkook lets out a soft, post-nut laugh. “Yeah?” he rasps. “Tell him I said hi.”

You look over at him from where you’re sprawled out on the couch, now on your stomach. “…So do I owe you money, or…?”

He snorts. “For what?”

“For fixing my power?” You say it like it’s obvious.. which it should be.

Jungkook leans over and smacks your ass, casual, affectionate. “Nah. This one’s on the house.”

Eventually, he helps you sit up, grabbing the nearest clean towel in your bathroom like this is all completely normal. You look at each other and you don’t know whether to laugh or cry or call your landlord and thank him for being so aggressively useless.

You’ll deal with that later.

Right now, you accept the towel, take a shaky breath. You blink at him, dazed, legs still jelly. “So if I break something else… just a hypothetical, should I call you..?”

He smirks, tugs his pants back up without bothering to button them, and says, “Depends. If you break something else, I expect a personal invitation. No middleman this time.”

masterlist + request

[lotusapple-xia]

Cuddle Me!

✰ summary: Sylus cranks the cold air conditioner after a petty argument, so you cuddle him ✰ pairing: Sylus x reader ✰ content: fluff, established relationship, you being petty and Sylus is needy but doesn't want to admit it ✰ w/c: 772 ✰ notes: Had this random idea so i had to write it! this was written super quick so forgive me if its not as good. pls ignore that you could've gotten a blanket/jacket 😭. also Sylus debut on my blog yippeee <3

🪷Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

The chilly air raises goosebumps along your arms as you shiver where you sit in Sylus’s living room. Moonlight filters in through the silk curtains, and the sound of soft classical music playing on the vinyl speaker is the only sound in the room. Both you and Sylus are quiet, neither of you making a sound as your pettiness refuses to speak to him after the argument. You’re keeping to yourself with a book you promised yourself to finish reading while Sylus is cleaning a gun from his personal collection.

You don’t even know what the argument was about, just something silly that transpired into his smug attitude egging you on. Rationally, you know that he wasn’t mean or rude to you—Sylus would rather fall face first off his penthouse before being intentionally mean to you—you can't help but give him the silent treatment.

The chill of the living room gets colder and colder. You’re in a pair of red, satin pyjamas, one of the many that Sylus has bought you, and it’s not doing anything to protect you against the frustrating cold. You could’ve sworn that it would’ve been warmer, considering the heater was just on moments ago.

You stride over to the thermostat to crank up the heat. To your surprise, the screen displays an overwhelming blue, explaining the sudden coldness. You slide the dial high, until it turns a bright red and head back to lie down on the couch with your book.

After a few minutes, the cold seeps in again. You try your best to ignore it, curling up into a ball and tucking your legs under yourself. You don’t want to get up again. The leather couch is not helping your case. In fact, it’s actively making it worse.

“Cold Kitten?” Sylus’s smug voice calls out from the other side of the room. He seems completely fine. Content even. Watching you freeze to death as you’re curled up like a literal kitten. You huff and purposely ignore eye contact. Sylus seems ever more amused watching you try to conserve your heat in the bitter temperature.

Eventually, you can't take it anymore, so you stand up begrudgingly once again to head to the thermostat. It’s set to a cool blue yet again.

“Sylus, for all your boasting about your amazing house in the N109 zone, your heating system sucks.”

“Why don’t we use our body heat to warm us up Sweetie, hm?”

“Did you do this on purpose?” You phrase it like a question, but you know that Sylus is the one behind this. The dark red tendrils of his evol hover behind the thermostat like thieves hiding from police. You try to fiddle with the settings of the thermostat, but it remains frozen at the cold temperature.

You huff again and resign yourself to sitting on the cold couch in misery. Several minutes pass as the cold air runs over your skin, wrapping around your limbs until they stiffen. Your teeth slightly chatter and your hands shake until the book you were intent on reading is neglected.

You look up at Sylus. He’s wearing his signature slacks paired with a dark sweater. His legs are spread enticingly as he continues to polish the gun in his hand. You know for sure that his body heat will be more than enough to warm you up. He’s basically a heater personified. Whenever you both cuddled to sleep, it was common for you to wake up overheated.

You sigh. You can't believe you’re about to give in. But it’ll be worth it in the end, despite the teasing you know you’ll have to deal with. You stand up and stalk towards him.

“Sylus.”

“Yes Sweetie?”

You don’t answer as you sink down onto his lap like you own it, which you do, Sylus can attest to that. You wrap your limbs around him and bury your head into his comfy chest. His calming, natural scent and overwhelming warmth instantly cocoon you. Sylus wraps his muscled arms around your body, further warming you up. He presses a loving kiss to the top of your head as he blissfully cuddles you.

“You purposefully made it cold didn’t you?” You look up at him, chin digging to his chest.

“I did Kitten, but you weren’t talking to me no matter what I did. I had to do something.” Sylus crowed.

“Just say you’re needy next time,” you hide your smile in his neck, tightening your grasp around him. Previous pettiness floating away now that you and Sylus aren’t at odds anymore.

“I will always need you Sweetie, no matter what.”

[chamisulgrape]

give me tough love 𖤐 [s.jy]

Jake's always liked pretty things, and you're the prettiest he's ever seen. Another thing about Jake? He always gets what he wants.

pairing → jake x afab reader word count → 12.9k tags → omegaverse/abo dynamics, alpha x alpha, one-sided enemies to lovers (?), jock!jake, cheerleader!reader, jake is highkey a huge virgin & loser in this, jealousy and possessiveness, weed and smoking smut tags → pwp, unprotected p in v sex, lots of power play/switching dynamics, mild dubious consent, overstimulation, degradation & dirty talk, lots of spit and drool (they're nasty for each other), virginity kink/inexperienced kink, service top!jake, breeding kink, oral sex (f receiving), tl;dr just lots of nasty smut warnings → alpha x alpha dynamics if u r not into that! also as always, not proofread a/n  → monster of a fic is finally done! pls reblog or leave me asks/comments if u enjoyed hehe that would make me very happy :3

♪ give me tough love, leave me with nothing when i come down my kinda love, push me and choke me 'til i pass out

minors dni.

One thing to know about Jake: he’s possessive.

It’s not one of his best traits, but it’s something he can’t help. It’s in his blood—his DNA and chemistry. He doesn’t believe in what’s mine is yours or what’s yours is mine, to him it’s bullshit. He’s an alpha, at the very top of the food chain. So why should he share something that’s his? There’s no such thing as ours in Jake’s book, and he’d spill blood before he lets someone have something that’s his.

Maybe he has a problem, but he never admits it until you. Rather, it never became a problem until he met you. 

It’s unavoidable, you’re unavoidable. You, a cheerleader in his year; nice ass, long legs, pretty face. How could he have helped himself? 

Jake’s always liked pretty things, and you’re the prettiest he’s ever seen. 

Jake was doomed from the start.

“Dibs.”

Sunghoon turns to Jake in surprise, mouth parted and sweat sheening on his forehead, sparkling under the sun. “What?”

“I said dibs,” Jake repeats, looking across the field to where the cheerleaders are practicing with the rest of the team. He wipes his forehead with the bottom of his jersey and points with his free hand, “That one, I call dibs.”

“You can’t just call dibs on someone like they’re an obje—” Sunghoon squints, following his finger. “Dude, _____? No fucking way. She doesn’t even know who you are.”

Jake scoffs, tossing a football right into Sunghoon’s chest. “Yeah, not yet.”

Sunghoon winces, “You’re fucking weird. Have you heard what people say about her? She’s supposedly really bitchy. And she’s an alpha. It’s never going to work.” 

Sunghoon hisses the word alpha out like it’d keep Jake from doing something rash. Jake sees it as a challenge.

“Doesn’t look like it.”

“Yeah, well you’re too blind to be staring at anything other than her ass.” Sunghoon tosses the ball back to him before calling in the rest of their team. “So, no. You can’t call dibs on her.”

Another thing about Jake: he gets what he wants. Not because he needs it and never because he deserves it, but simply because he wants it—and god, does Jake want. He craves you more than anything he’s ever wanted, desperately now just because Sunghoon says he can’t have you.

So Jake doesn’t listen to Sunghoon, his mind already far past made up. He decides at that very moment: you are going to be his. 

Jake has a small problem: you hate him.

Saying you hate him is an understatement. 

He doesn’t know what it is, it could be the fact that he’s been shamelessly hitting on you for weeks, but he isn’t too sure.

Okay, he isn’t exactly hitting on you, but he thinks he’s made it very clear what his intentions are. Very.

“Jake Sim.” You spit, glossy lips curling into a frown, your signature pretty pout on display. 

“Were you waiting for me?” Jake smirks, kicking the locker room door closed behind him as he walks out and swinging his duffle bag over his shoulder.

“Why are you telling people that we’re fucking?” You cut to the chase, crossing your arms and glowering at him. Jake thinks you’re cute, and god, this only makes him want you more.

You’re a few feet too far from him, which Jake fixes easily. He closes the distance between you both, leaning against the side of the wall and grinning at you with a smug smirk, one that he knows gets under your skin.

“What can I say? Futuristic thinking. Manifesting.”

Jake watches as you furrow your brows, your pretty pout deepening further as Jake places a hand on your waist. “Well, you need to stop.”

“Stop what? No use when they’re all thinking it already.”

You huff, frustrated. “Stop going around and telling people we’re fucking when we’re not!”

“Why not?” Jake questions, just to push your buttons further.

“Because we’re not!” You snap. “Jake. I’m an alpha, you’re an alpha. What’s not clicking?”

Jake hums, tilting his head. “Do you have a mate?”

“No—”

“Aw, really?”

“No!”

Jake squeezes your waist once, twice, before sliding his hand further, resting his palm against your lower back. Leaning down a centimeter, he pulls you closer, until your hips are pulled flush against each other. “Then what’s the problem?”

When you sigh, he can practically taste the mint gum off of your breath. you maintain eye contact, squinting and leaning in further to prove your point. You press a finger against Jake’s chest, “You. God, you’re such a fucking sleaze.”

Jake places a hand over his chest, right where your finger just was, feigning hurt. “Sleaze? Angel, that’s so mean.”

“I’m not an angel, Jake. I’m an alpha. Leave me the fuck alone, Jake.” You say, before turning on your heels and stalking off. Jake watches you go like a predator stalking his prey, his eyes trained on your ass.

Jake feels a hand on his shoulder, and he turns to meet Sunghoon’s questioning gaze.

Jake shoots him a shit eating grin, shrugging his shoulders. “She wants me so bad.”

Sunghoon shakes his head in disbelief before squeezing Jake’s shoulder pityingly, hand falling to his side after. “Of course she does. Come on, lover boy.”

Jake prides himself in being patient—patience is a virtue, or something like that—so he’s not surprised when things change the night of the party.

Sunghoon’s omega is hosting a party for her cheer team (something about celebrating a win they had at a competition, but Jake is really only there for free alcohol) and if Sunghoon is invited, Jake is too. Best friend perks. 

“You guys are late.” She says, greeting Sunghoon with a kiss when he opens the door for them.

“Sorry baby, blame Jake.” Sunghoon slings an arm around his omega’s shoulders, her arm coming around to hold his waist like it belongs there. 

“You guys are sickening. Absolutely fucking sickening.” Jake gags exaggeratedly, pushing past the pair and making a beeline for wherever the alcohol is.

He makes it past the crowd of sweaty bodies, pushing his way through to find the kitchen. Jake finds it easily, knowing Sunghoon’s omega’s place like the back of his hand. The kitchen is packed with people pouring cups of something from a bowl, and others hanging around the clutter of bottles on the table. 

Jake follows suit, filling his own red cup with some kind of red punch, when someone shoves him to the side, hard enough to have punch spilling from his cup and onto the countertop. He’s about to turn and say something when he sees a familiar varsity jacket.

“Get out of my way.”

Jake scoffs, worrying the inside of his cheek as he watches you fill up his cup. “Seems like you’re the one following me around. Careful, people might get the wrong idea and think that you’re the one who wants to fuck me instead.”

You pause, huffing before tossing the ladle back into the bowl. You turn to him fully, taking Jake’s cup right out of his hand and pouring the remnants into your own. “Get your head out of your ass, Jake. I’m just filling up my cup, you just happened to be here.”

“Yeah, filling up your cup with mine. It’s like you want me, or something.” Jake smirks when you roll your eyes.

You glower at him. “Shut up.”

“You’re so cute when you try to play hard to get.” 

You down your drink in one go, shoving it against Jake’s chest after crushing your cup in your hand. “Eat my ass.”

“Gladly!” Jake yells over the music as you leave the kitchen. He laughs, amusement filling his chest. Jake licks his lips, pushing himself off of the counter to follow you out of the kitchen.

Jake bumps into Sunghoon and his omega as he’s about to leave. He grimaces at the sight of Sunghoon already sporting a few small hickeys on his shoulders. “You guys are sickening, did I tell you that? Because you guys are disgusting.”

She flips him off. “Shut up, ass eater.”

“You heard that? So you agree that it was an invitation, right?” Jake’s lips curl downwards at the sight of Sunghoon hanging off of her, arms wrapped around his omega’s neck. Gross. “I’d be mad about the fact that you guys keep forgetting that some people are single here, but I don’t think I’ll be single for much longer.

“Leave my cheerleaders alone, Jake.” She retorts, rolling her eyes.

Jake waggles his eyebrows playfully. “Not my fault that your cheerleader is hot.”

Sunghoon interrupts them then, “nice talk, but we have places to be. Bye, don’t come find us,” before shuffling aside and leading them both into the kitchen.

Jake scoffs to himself, mumbling something about how gross they are before remembering why he left the kitchen in the first place. He searches the crowd for his target, squinting when the flashing LED lights burn his eyes. His eyes roam the room, scanning over people dancing, hanging around in corners, making out on couches, before he finally sees you. 

The sight makes his blood boil. There you are, sitting pretty in some douchebag’s lap. Jake laughs under his breath, tonguing at his cheek, seeing red at the way the guy seems so enamored with you. He probably thinks he’s the shit with a pretty cheerleader in his lap. Jake wonders if the guy is an alpha too.

Jake is about to say fuck it and go get you back himself, when someone elbows his side. 

“Wanna smoke?” He turns to find Riki, who’s dangling a bag of pre-rolled joints in his hand. 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

A few minutes later, Jake and Riki are seated on a couch just a few feet away from where you are.

Riki takes a drag of the joint before passing it to him. Jake takes a hit, eyes still trained on where you’re fucking laughing against the guy’s chest. He clenches his jaw, running his tongue along his teeth before exhaling. Jake can be funny, too.

“You good?” Riki asks, raising his brows at him. Jake is losing control of his scent now that he has alcohol and weed in his system, and he can’t bring himself to reel it in when you’re still in the guy’s lap.

Jake rubs a hand across his face, then takes another hit before shoving the joint into Riki’s hands. When the guy places his hand on your waist, just shy of creeping into the waistband of your pretty little skirt, he sees red. “Yeah, just—be right back.”

Jake can’t stop himself from walking right up to you. You notice him right away, Jake’s scent enveloping you as soon as he’s a few steps away. He towers over you, smiling sweetly. “Baby, who’s this?”

The guy looks between the two of them, quickly shuffling to the side and tossing you off his lap. “Shit—Sorry man, I didn’t know she was claimed.”

Jake smirks, filled to the brim with satisfaction and pride. Jake swears the guy’s tail would be between his legs if he had one. He looks down at you, who’s glaring at him with a curled lip, and he remembers why he’s mad in the first place. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” You say, then standing to be toe to toe with Jake. They’re a ticking time bomb by now, both so close to exploding, and Jake feels as though the time is up. Jake is done with the games, he just wants.

“You. You’re my fucking problem.” Jake growls, taking a hold of your hand and leading them away from the living room.

To his surprise, you don't resist like he thought you would. “Jake—”

You let him lead them into an unoccupied bathroom, only narrowing your eyes at the way Jake locks it behind them. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Jake crowds him against the door. Your head knocks back at the sudden movement, eliciting a hiss out of you. The music is muffled from inside the bathroom, and he’s sure that you can hear the way he’s breathing heavily. He lets out a ragged breath before taking your jaw between his fingers with more force than necessary.

He can feel your pulse thumping against his fingers, matching the bass reverberating through the bathroom. He tilts your face up, his grip bruising. “What are you playing at?”

It doesn’t surprise Jake that you are allowing this, even though he’s an alpha. Jake knows that you also enjoy the game they play, he knows that you like the push and pull. Something tells Jake that you like being treated like this, if the sudden spike of arousal of your scent is anything to go by. 

“What do you mean?”

You have the nerve to look innocent with your cheeks squished between Jake’s thumb and forefingers, like Jake can’t smell you at all, like your scent isn’t flooding the bathroom along with Jake’s. 

“I mean,” Jake stops himself when your scent gets too heavy, making his head spin and his dick throb. He inhales sharply, bringing your face closer. “What do you think you’re doing? Sitting on that guy’s fucking lap?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You say, grinning, trailing off into a wince when Jake squeezes just a tad tighter. 

“You know what I’m talking about. You wanted me to see? Is that it?” He releases your jaw, only to grip your hips instead. “You knew I’d be there, you’re doing this on purpose.”

The arousal in your scent when Jake’s fingers dig into his flesh only gets heedier, and Jake’s mouth waters when he’s hit with the smell of grass and mint and tea and the air charged with your pheromones and—holy fucking god, Jake wants to devour you whole, every last bit of you.

You only swallow, eyes flicking down to Jake’s lips. Your breath is sweet, still smelling like the mint gum you chew every day, when you speak. “You’re fucking insufferable.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Is all Jake says before he closes the distance between you two.

It’s at this moment that Jake’s brain short circuits, reminding him that he’s never done this before—this being anything remotely sexual, aside from short makeouts with randoms he’s never cared for. You can most likely tell by the way their teeth clash together messily, but when Jake bites at your lip, you only whimpers in response.

It makes Jake want to laugh. You, who used to tell Jake that because they’re both alphas they can’t be involved, is now speechless, at Jake’s mercy.

For what he lacks, he makes up with enthusiasm. You gasp against his lips and he takes his chance to slip his tongue inside, licking over teeth and gums before pushing against your tongue. You don't let up easily, still fighting for dominance. Jake trails his palms down to your ass, squeezing the soft flesh there, and you break the kiss to gasp for air. 

Jake nips at your jaw, and his chest rumbles with satisfaction when your head lolls to the side, practically submitting for him like he wanted. He trails kisses down from your lips to your neck, tongue coming out to lick at your throat and leave marks against the skin there. When he reaches your scent gland, you gasp, hips bucking against Jake’s when Jake grazes his teeth over it, licking tenderly. 

“You’re so—fucking annoying,” you breathe out, words getting cut off when Jake bites down at your throat. He sucks a spot right above your scent gland, biting with the intent to hurt. Jake relishes in the way you whine, and it only spurs him on further.

By the time he leans back, your neck is already sporting fresh bruises and adorning marks that Jake can’t believe he left himself—that he can’t believe you let him leave. The mere sight fills him to the brim with pride.

“What the fuck are you looking at?”

“For someone who was just panting like a dog, you have a lot to say.” Jake bites back, using the hand he has on your ass to pull your hips closer against you. 

You have the audacity to glare at him with glazed eyes and spit-slick lips, and you look so wrecked that Jake wants to retort more, to push your buttons further, but he knows that this is already enough—as an alpha, you’ve already allowed him to do so much. You’ve already given him more than enough. 

“You’re an asshole.” You pout.

Jake just scoffs, shutting you up with another kiss. He licks along your lips, biting down when you don't willingly submit to the tongue prodding at your mouth. Your chest rumbles with a growl at the feeling, and Jake grins against your lips at the metallic taste of him breaking skin. He sucks your lip apologetically, sucking the flesh into his mouth to soothe it.

He gasps against your lips when he feels your hand come down in between them. Your hands trail lower before meeting his bulge, and Jake realizes that he’s embarrassingly hard. You hum, and Jake knows that your alpha is satisfied. You squeeze him over his pants once, before dropping to your knees.

Jake’s brain lags. “Wait—”

You look up at him through your wet lashes, and the sight is already enough to have him nearly close to coming in his pants. “‘Wait’? You brought me in here, and now you’re telling me to wait?”

“No, I—”

“What? You’re acting like you’ve never gotten head before.” He sees the moment it dawns on you, who scoffs. “No fucking way.” Jake swallows, words lost and his mind clouded and fuzzy. You laugh, throwing your head back. “You’re not a virgin, are you?”

He bites his lip, not knowing what to say back for once. “That’s—”

Your lips quirk up at the corners. “You’re all talk and no fucking bite.” You unzip Jake’s jeans in a flash. “Who would’ve thought, Jake Sim is a virgin.”

Jake opens his mouth to rebuttal, his alpha and ego taking hits at your words, but once you tug his pants down low enough to see Jake’s cock straining against his boxers, he can’t find it in himself to say a word. 

“God, you’re a fucking loser.” You shake your head, and Jake can tell you’re enjoying the role reversal, finally having the upperhand over him.

He sees the prideful look on your face when your words draw a faint whimper out of him, and he feels momentarily embarrassed, cheeks hot with mortification. He’s supposed to be an alpha, but here he is, putty in the hands of another alpha. Jake hates the fact that he likes it.

“You were going around telling people we’re fucking when you haven’t even fucked anyone.” You grin, palming at Jake’s bulge. “Such a disappointment of an alpha, hm?”

Jake groans lowly, and shame fills his chest as he bucks against your hips, seeking your touch out. “Shut up.”

You let out a laugh, squeezing the head of his cock. “You’re so wet already, practically soaking, just like an omega.”

Jake huffs. He reaches out to grab a fistful of your hair, pulling another hiss out of you. “You gonna suck me off or what? You’re the one who���s all talk and no bite.”

“Am I?” You tilt your head. “You think you’ll even last a few seconds?” 

Jake opens his mouth to retort, to say anything in rebuttal, but he’s silenced at the sight of you getting up. You pull him close with a finger tucked into the waistband of his boxers, leaning in to bite at his ear. You tug them against the door, Jake stopping himself from hitting into it face-first with a palm against the wood. 

He gets no warning when you slip a hand into his boxers, gripping him loosely and tugging his cock a few times. The slide is dry, making Jake hiss out a curse as you squeeze him at the head again. He sighs in relief when you pull his cock out, the cold air enveloping him. 

“Such a shame, you have a dick like this and you don’t even know how to use it,” you stroke him slowly, almost as if you’re bored. “Pathetic, really.”

“Get on with it already.”

Jake chokes on a whine when you suddenly grip him tightly. “Don’t talk to me like that. You were telling everyone that we’re fucking, so if you wanna get your dick wet then shut the fuck up.”

He pants, nodding his head. You grin, picking up the pace again. “You’re pathetic.” You kiss Jake’s cheek, thumb applying pressure to the head of his cock, digging into the slit.

Jake nods again, whimpering out a please. “You’re so pretty like this, Jakey. When you’re not being a fucking bitch.” Your lips are warm against his ear. “But maybe if you last long enough, I’ll even let you fuck me.”

It’s embarrassing, really. The way your words make his stomach churn with arousal and his hips stutter, causing him to fuck into your fist. It’s even more embarrassing that you calling him a bitch and the image of him even being able to get close to your ass has him coming within seconds. His cum coats your hand as he spills into your fist.

Mortification fills him to the brim, his face and cheeks getting warm. The shame is hot, and he burns when you laugh at him.

“Seriously? I barely even touched you, how are you going to ever fuck me like this? I don’t fuck people that can’t even last a fucking minute.” You release the hold you have on Jake’s cock, pushing Jake off of you. “And I don’t fuck virgins.”

Jake closes his eyes, inhaling shakily as he falls back a step. Hot tears run down his cheek, and he can’t bring himself to open them to meet your gaze. “I—I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? And now you’re crying. Jake,” he opens his eyes at this, looking at you through blurry vision. “God, you’re a mess.”

You step around him and close the lid of the toilet down, the slam resounding throughout the bathroom. You settle on the seat, squirming until you’re comfortable. Jake doesn’t know what to do anymore, too embarrassed to even speak. His breath catches in his throat when you tugs your skirt down mid-thigh, rubbing yourself over your panties. 

You beckon him over with a hand. “Jake, come here.”

Jake inhales shakily, trudging over slowly until his shoes knock into your sneakers. You tut at him. “Now sit.” Jake drops to his knees immediately, and you hum in satisfaction. “Good boy, now watch me.”

You spread your legs, and Jake chokes, mouth suddenly too dry. He can’t seem to look away from your face, feeling mesmerized at the way your lids are hooded with arousal, your gaze burning. You tilt your head, smiling at him innocently. 

“Don’t look at me, I told you to watch, didn’t I?”

Jake nods obediently, and you grin. He watches as you rub yourself over the fabric of your soaked panties. Jake gapes, mouth dropping open at the wet patch at the front.

“What? You’ve never seen panties before? Sorry—forgot, you’re a virgin,” you jut your chin, beckoning him even closer. “C’mere, help me take this off.”

He obeys, reaching out to place his fingers over the fabric. With shaky hands, he helps you tug your skirt and panties off. He pulls your sneakers off one by one, placing them next to his knees. He places your clothes on the counter next to him, then places his hands on your hips, when you slap him away. 

“I didn’t say you could touch, did I?” Jake shakes his head, mumbling out a weak no. “Good. You’re going to be a good boy for me, right?”

Jake nods at this, folding his hands on his lap. You lean your back against the toilet, cum coated hand coming down to caress your now bare cunt. You spread your legs further, and Jake almost comes a second time when he realizes that you’re touching yourself with his cum.

“Jakey, come closer,” you gasp, biting your lip as you rub yourself slowly. “Feels so good—you wanna touch, don’t you?”

Jake nods, entranced, too distracted watching in awe as your hole, wet and slick, clenches around nothing.  You bring your sticky, shiny fingers in front of Jake’s face, holding them in front of Jake’s mouth. “Suck.”

He does as told, taking your fingers into his mouth and sucking eagerly. The taste is unlike anything he’s ever tasted, way better than his own come, and he finds himself wanting more.

Jake moans around your digits, licking in between your fingers. He barely notices when you start fingering yourself with your unoccupied hand, faster now to the sight of your fingers deep in Jake’s mouth. 

“You’re so good, Jake. You listen to well, just like a fucking dog.” You trail off with a whine, and Jake looks down to see you adding a second finger inside of you.

He’s entranced at the wet sounds of you fingering yourself, the noises echoing off the walls. “Too bad you can’t fuck me, would feel so good to have you inside of me.”

Jake’s gaze is focused on your pussy, and he can’t find it in himself to look away. “Maybe I should go back outside, find that guy and use him instead, hm? He’d probably know how to use it better than you can.”

“No!” Jake objects, coming out muffled around your fingers. He pulls off with a lewd pop, “I can—I can show you. I can be good for you.” You hum, eyes closing and voice breaking off into a moan. “Yeah?”

He nods, “I can be good for you, please. Let me be good for you.”  He hears your breath pick up, the squelching sounds getting louder as you move your hand quicker. “God—Jake, I’m close, so close.”

Jake’s mouth waters, and he can’t stop himself from getting up onto his knees to press their lips together. You gasp in surprise, granting Jake entry into your mouth. He breaks off the kiss to pant against your ear. 

In the heat of the moment, Jake places his hand on top of yours, his palm against the back of your hand and moving in time with yours. 

You shake, gasping, and Jake feels it when you cum, your body convulsing and shaking against him. “Fuck—shit, Jake!”

When you come down from your high, you pull Jake into another kiss. Your lips move languidly against each other, spit making the slide wet and slippery. Jake takes it all, swallowing down the small mewls and whimpers you let out.

When they pull away, Jake can feel himself dripping with more precome at the sight of a line of spit hanging from between their lips. You bring your hand up to your mouth, sucking your fingers clean and Jake swears he could’ve come again right then and there.

You pull out your fingers with a lewd sound before getting up from the toilet. You put your skirt back on, fixing your appearance in the mirror. He watches as you grab your discarded panties, shoving them into Jake’s back pocket.

You lean in, pressing your lips to Jake’s softly. “Keep them,” You turn to leave, hand on the doorknob before looking back over your shoulder. “And put your fucking dick back in your pants.” Jake looks down, cheeks aflame when he realizes that his dick is still out in the open. When he looks up, you are nowhere in sight.

He stands there in shock, groaning. They’re back to square one. 

If he goes to lock the door and rubs another quick one out while holding your panties against his nose, it’s nobody’s business but his.

When you corner him outside of the locker room two weeks later, Jake feels a little bit surprised. 

Jake flinches in surprise, “_____.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “_____?”

“Is that not your name?” Jake asks, just to be an asshole. 

He smiles when you scoff. “My name? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What do you mean?” Jake says, furrowing his brows in confusion. 

“What do you mean, what do I mean? You know what I mean, don’t play dumb,” you spit, crossing your arms. Jake can’t help the way his eyes drop to your chest. “Cheerleaders are your type now, huh? You think you can just go around making fuck me eyes at all the cheerleaders now?”

Jake cocks his head in confusion, before it dawns on him. “You’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.” You argue back. 

“You’re jealous I haven’t been giving you any attention, is that it?” He tongues his cheek. “Never pegged you as the jealous type, angel.”

You purse your lips at the nickname. “I’m not jealous. You’re just being a fucking asshole and you know it.”

Jake raises a brow, stepping closer into your space, right until your toes touch. He leans down, towering over you. “Me? An asshole? Angel, I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“You!” You inhale, looking around to see if anyone was there to witness your outburst before lowering your voice. “You know what I’m talking about. Why the fuck are you hanging around them?”

“Hanging around who?” Jake pushes, a grin spreading across his face when he sees your cheeks get pink. 

He sees you look past him, hiding in Jake’s chest when a few students walk by. “Fuck—come here.”

Jake lets you grab his hand and drag him away from the locker room, following behind you with a whipped, dopey smile on his face. They pass by Sunghoon, who’s on his way back to the locker room.

Sunghoon points at them with a shocked look, “What’s—”

“Hi Sunghoon—” you tug on his hand, making him almost trip over his own feet. “—bye Sunghoon!”

He gets dragged all the way to the parking lot in front of the field, not stopping until he’s in front of a black car. You turn on your heels, dropping Jake’s hand. “Get in the car.”

You scoff when he reaches for the passenger door’s handle. “No, you fucking idiot. In the back.” 

Jake raises his hands in surrender, getting into the backseat. He’s a foot into the car when he realizes he doesn’t have his things. “Wait—I don’t have my shit.”

He gets shoved into the car, hands coming out to catch himself as you push him in roughly. “Can you just shut the fuck up and listen? You’re so annoying.”

“You tell me that everyday, angel,” Jake says, situating himself until he’s comfortable. “This is kinda—”

You groan, getting into the car and closing the door behind you. You lock the doors, tossing your keys somewhere and climbing into Jake’s lap to straddle him. “Do you ever shut up?”

Jake’s hands come to rest on your hips on their own accord. “What are you—” he stops himself when you squirm, grinding down into his lap subtly.

“You’re such a fucking dog,” you start, hands scrambling to take off Jake’s varsity jacket. He complies, leaning forward so you can tug each of the sleeves off. “You know what I’m hearing now?”

He hums, a little confused and a little turned on. Once you’re satisfied at the sight of Jake in just his white shirt, your hands creep lower until they situate themselves under his shirt and on his chest. “It’s funny, this girl is saying you guys fucked.”

“What?” Jake questions with a quirk of his head. 

“Don’t what me. You know who I’m fucking talking about,” your manicured nails scratch at his skin, probably leaving angry red marks. “She’s saying you guys fucked the night of the party.”

Jake hisses when your nails dig into his skin, “but I was with you at the party.”

You scoff, taking your hands out from under his shirt and resting them on his nape. “Exactly, so tell me why she’s saying you guys fucked.”

“Hey,” he groans when you lean in to nip at his jaw, placing sloppy kisses down his neck. “Angel, how am I supposed to know?

Jake tilts his head back to rest against the headrest, letting you continue your ministrations. He bites his lip, a moan almost finding its way out of his mouth when you bite at a spot on his neck, sucking on the skin there. 

You pause in your ministrations, “gonna mark you, have you walk around with my bruises on your neck so people know you’re owned.” 

“Hey—baby, that’s great, but—” Jake’s voice breaks when you nibble harder, hand coming up to his hair to tug at the strands. “We’re at school. In the parking lot.”

You don't let up, kissing along his jaw until you find his lips. You kiss him once, twice before you place your hand over one of Jake’s wrists to detach it from your hip, trailing lower until his fingers meet the soft fabric of your uniform. “But Jakey, feel.”

Jake’s lips part in a silent gasp when you use his fingers to rub between your legs, and he exhales shakily once he feels that you're soaked. He’s losing his self control slowly, and when you rut down against his hand and whine against his lips, he throws all caution out the window.

He lets you grind against his hand for a bit before he cups you over your panties, fingers applying the slightest pressure. You gasp, leaning further against Jake’s chest when he captures your lips with his own, swallowing down all of your noises. 

Jake rubs over your panties, the small whines and whimpers spurring him on further. He toys with the hem of the fabric, “Can—can I?”

You nod, cutting him off with another kiss. Jake slides your panties to the side, finally feeling how wet you really are. “Fuck—angel, you’re fucking dripping.”

“For you, all for you.” You say, panting against his mouth. Your hips buck when Jake trails his fingers through your slit, coating the digits with your slick. Jake groans at the stickiness, and he can’t stop himself from slipping a finger inside. 

“Ah—Jakey,” Jake twitches in his pants at the sound of your voice. He’s been hard since you first sat in his lap, and he’s this close to coming untouched. “You can—you can add another.”

“Fuck—yeah, okay.” Jake rasps out, complying right away. He slips his middle finger beside his ring finger, relishing in the warmth and softness of your warm walls. 

Jake’s brain short circuits and he panics internally because he doesn’t know what to fucking do. He didn’t think he’d get this far. You seem to take notice, because you start grinding down on his fingers yourself. “You don’t have to do anything just—ah, keep your fingers there.”

He obeys, hand staying still while he’s buried knuckles deep, two fingers in your cunt. You take it all, riding his fingers enthusiastically. Wetness drips down to his wrist, and his hips buck against you when you let out a throaty moan. 

“Fuck, you sound so good.” Jake groans, leaning forward to lick the sweat off of your neck. 

You huff at this, your hand gripping tighter from where it’s resting in Jake’s hair. “Shut—shut the fuck up.”

Jake moves his hand again, meeting your every move. He starts to get the hang of it, learning what makes you moan and what makes you whimper. When he curls his fingers, pressing his palm against your clit as he grinds down, you keen.

“Fuck, Jake,” you throws your head back, the sound of your moans filling up the car. “Right there—oh!”

You shudder, clenching around his fingers. Jake can’t stop looking at you, admiring the way your hair falls and the way you looks so pretty like this. “Yeah? There?”

He does it again, curling his fingers and keeping the same tempo as your grinding. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

Jake smiles at the way it brings a whine out of you. He gets brave, slipping his index finger inside next to his others, scissoring them the slightest bit. “Yeah? You like that? So pretty, my pretty fucking angel.”

“Mine, you’re mine,” you cry, head lolling forward to rest on the headrest next to Jake’s ears. You mewl, clenching sporadically around his fingers. “Tell me—say it, you’re mine.”

“Yours. I’m all yours,” Jake says, repeating it again and again. “I’m yours, only yours.”

“Fuck—” you trail off with a moan, reaching below them to tug at Jake’s shorts. “Off, off.”

Jake nods eagerly, using his free hand to shrug his shorts down enough for his cock to come out. “Yeah? Fuck, okay baby.”

Your breath hitches at the sight of Jake’s length before you’re licking your lips and pulling Jake’s hand out from your legs. You reach down to stroke him, humming appreciatively at the way he’s so responsive, cock already hard and leaking in precome onto your hand.

“Jakey, you’re so big, you’d fuck me so good, I’d feel it for weeks,” you close yours eyes at the thought, breath coming out shakily. “Too bad you’re a virgin.”

Jake makes a sound of distress, closing his eyes and whining at the feeling of you stroking him slowly. “Jake, Jakey. Look at me.”

He thinks distantly, whenever you tell him to look at him, it never ends well. He opens his eyes, meeting your mischief filled ones. Jake chokes on a gasp when he feels something wet rubbing against him, looking down to see you rubbing your dripping pussy right against his cock.

“You’re gonna be a good boy, right?” You say, voice coming out restrained. 

He nods, he’d do anything he’s told at this point. You run your hand through Jake’s hair appreciatively before tugging, baring his neck back. “You’re gonna come like this. You can do that, can’t you?”

“Yeah,” he clears his throat. “Uh-huh.”

You smirk, leaning in again to peck him on the lips twice. “You can’t come until I do first. If you last long enough, I might even let you fuck me next time.”

The pure thought of being able to fuck you almost makes him blow his load right there. Jake holds himself back with the little restraint he has left. He nods, promising that he’ll do good.

You reach below them again, grabbing ahold of Jake’s dick and pushing aside your panties to rub your wet cunt against his cock. Jake throws his head back, whining at the feeling. It’s warm and wet and better than his own right hand, and he has to tell himself to not come on the spot.

Jake, if you come right now I’m gonna fucking kill you. God. Do not fucking come.

He can feel himself throbbing when you grind against his cock, spreading your slick all over the length. Jake can’t stop his hips from snapping up, meeting you in your every movement.

Jake uses the hold he has on your waist to guide you back and forth, grinding up as you grind down. He moans at the feeling of you slicking up his cock, and he wonders distantly if this is what it’s going to feel like to be inside of you. His dick twitches in interest at the thought.

“I was so, so fucking mad when I heard that bitch talking about you,” you breath out. “And then I see you fucking hanging around her and, fuck, wanted to fuck you so bad.”

Jake preens, the thought of you being jealous fills his alpha to the brim with pride. “Yeah? Would let you, I bet you want that. Let her see us fucking in front of her. You grinding against my cock like a fucking slut.”

He feels your hips stutter. “You’re mine. She had the fucking audacity to ask me about you. Asking me why people were saying we’re fucking.”

Jake groans at this, his grip on your waist is bruising. He looks down between them, watching as you move your hips against him. Your skirt is covering what he wants to see, and he lifts the hem with a hand. He salivates at the sight of his shiny, wet cock sliding and disappearing between your legs. 

“What’d you say? Hm? Tell me.”

Your hips speed up, your face scrunching up when Jake’s dick rubs you just right. “I told her—I said it was true. That we were fucking, and that you—”

“That I what?” Jake presses, using his grip on your hips to hold you down, grinding up against your pussy. 

He removes a hand from your waist to reach between them, thumb coming down to rub between your legs. You grab his hand shakily, guiding him to your clit. Jake sucks in a breath at the way he can practically feel your hole fluttering against his cock when he rubs your clit experimentally.

“That I what?” Jake repeats.

“That I was your first,” you gasp, shaking in his hold. “That I took your virginity. Let you come inside me and that you were mine.”

Jake moans lowly, shoving his face into your shoulder. “Yeah? You want that? Bet you’d like that, knowing you’re my first. First hole I used—the only hole I’ll use.”

This pulls a shrill cry out of you, who nods eagerly. “You’re—you’re mine, only mine. Gonna let you fill me up like I said, marking me as yours.”

“Yeah, baby? I’m yours, my first is yours. All yours. Fuck.” Jake practically growls out, the thought of you taking his virginity is already too much for him, and before he knows it, he’s cumming against your cunt.

You moan at the feeling, voice rising in octaves as you feel Jake’s cum, warm and hot, shooting up against you. “Oh—fucking shit, Jake—”

You reach down between them, taking Jake’s cock into your hand and positioning it right against your hole. You run the tip of his cock over your hole a few times, spreading the cum there before pushing the head inside. “Fuck, Jake, come inside me—”

Jake bites down on your shoulder, the thought of his cum filling you up pulls a moan out of him, the sound muffled. His body shakes, hip bucking when he feels the tip of his head enter your pussy. “Fuck, fuckfuck.”

When he comes down from his high, head fuzzy and heart beating erratically, you’re breathing heavily. He winces when you grip his hair, tilting his head back with more force than necessary. “You didn’t fucking listen to me. You came first.”

“I’m—I’m sorry.” Jake gets out, still panting from his climax.

“Fucking pathetic, your dick is good for nothing. Can’t even get me off when I ask you to. Really, what are you even good for?” You spit at him, the words making his cheeks heat with embarrassment. 

Jake begs and pleas, “No, I—I can be good.” 

“No, you can’t,” you dig your nails into his scalp, smirking when Jake’s face scrunches up. “You’re not stopping until I come, alright?”

He nods at this, complying with your every word. It clicks in his brain then: he’s wrapped around your finger, and you don't intend on ever letting him go.

Things haven’t changed since the time you cornered him outside the locker room. Well, they haven’t changed much.

You still roll your eyes when you see him, always throwing some shady insults at him that Jake takes with pride, and he still chases you like a loyal dog.

“Why do you keep trying? She literally hates your guts,” Sunghoon says during practice one day. “Isn’t it tiring?”

Jake shrugs, tossing the ball to a random teammate. “I think I’m making progress.”

Sunghoon raises a brow. “Dude, just give up. You’re not gonna crack her anytime soon. How do you know she’s even into alphas?”

If only he knew, Jake thinks. “If your omega hated your guts, would you give up?”

“No, that’s my mate,” Sunghoon replies, easily. “Do you know how long I courted her for until she finally accepted me? Jake. I chased after her since I was a junior. In high school.”

Jake sends him a deadpan look. “Exactly.” He says flatly.

Sunghoon only shakes his head at him. “You’re down bad. So bad.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says passively, waving him off. Jake’s eyes are trained on where you’re stretching a few feet away from them on the field. 

It’s routine now, the way you catch his gaze, smirking as you stretch your legs. Jake watches as you bend down to touch your toes, tilting your head in the way of the locker room before standing up and heading there first.

“Duty calls.” Is all Jake says before taking off, ignoring Sunghoon’s sounds of protest.

“Practice isn’t even over yet!”

Jake jogs over to the locker room, knocking a few times before the door opens and he’s getting dragged in roughly. 

The door closes behind him and he faintly registers the lock clicking shut. Before he can get a word out, there’s a pair of lips attached to his neck.

“Angel, I’m sweaty, and we’re gonna smell like each other.”

You pout against his neck, hand trailing down to cup at his dick over his shorts. You squeeze him once, before rubbing your palm against him. “But I want you so bad, and everyone thinks we’re fucking anyway. Jake…”

Jake can feel his restraint slipping. “Fuck, you’re so…”

“Been watching you all practice, you’re so fucking hot. Couldn’t even focus today, all I can think about is sucking you off.” You say, slipping your hand into Jake’s shorts.

Jake takes a glance at the clock above the lockers, silently appreciative that he has roughly half an hour before anybody would be coming in to use the lockers. When he looks back at you, you’re already looking at him with lust filled eyes and blown pupils.

You blink at him, a lazy smile on your lips as you stroke Jake to full hardness. “Please? Come on, alpha.”

And who is Jake to ever deny you?

“Fuck, fine. C’mere.” Jake replies, pulling you until you’re between a row of lockers. He pushes you by the shoulders, back, back until your knees hit a bench.

Like this, towering over you, he can’t help but feel big—big at the way you appear so small beneath him, nothing like the alpha you’re supposed to be. Jake snorts fondly at the way you look up at him with the biggest puppy eyes.

“You’re cute.”

You instantly frown, lips pulling downwards. “You’re gross. I didn’t bring you here to be sappy. I’d be way cuter with my face covered in your cum.”

You tug at Jake’s shorts, frowning deeper when you realize Jake isn’t budging. “What are you still standing there for? Drop your fucking pants.”

Jake rolls his eyes, grabbing your hair with a fist. He yanks you forward, your chin now digging into his stomach. “You want it so bad? Beg.”

Jake preens internally when your mouth drops open in shock.

“Beg? You want me to fucking beg? In case you forgot, you’re not the one in charge here.” 

“In charge? If you want to suck me off so bad, then beg, angel,” Jake says, yawning. “I have practice to finish, so if you’re not going to, I’m leaving.”

“You’re—” You open your mouth before closing it shut again. 

“Or, how about we try something different this time?” Jake cuts you off, releasing his grip on your hair to get on his knees himself. Even on his knees, you’re eye to eye.

He leans closer, nosing at your cheek and inhaling deeply. “Let’s see how long you can last,” Jake glances at the clock again. “If you hold out, I’ll let you suck me off. Deal?”

“Who’s teaching you these things? Fucker.” You scoff, craning your neck to look at the clock behind them.

“You did.” Jake smiles, and you shake your head, mumbling little shit.

Your facade cracks easily. “Shut up.” You say, smiling so small that Jake would’ve missed it if he wasn’t already staring at your lips.

“So, deal?” He meets you halfway, kissing you softly before pulling away, not missing the way you chase after his lips.

You huff, pulling him back in by his jersey. “Deal.”

And just like the first and second and tenth time, you fall right back into each other.

One thing about you is that you get jealous.

At first, Jake is too caught up in his own jealousy to even entertain the thought of you being jealous.

Their relationship, if you could call it that, is remotely private. Although everyone used to think they’re fucking, they now either think that they hate each other, or are in some sort of platonic fuck-buddies arrangement because people catch them smelling of each other’s scents so often. You’ve both kept it under wraps for months, and you prefer to keep it that way. So when you start acting differently in public, Jake notices.

It starts like this: Having the same group of friends meant that they see each other all the time, being forced to hangout and be in the same vicinity of each other almost every day. So when the casual touches started, needless to say, their friends, and many others, were confused.

First, it was you wrapping an arm around his waist whenever you’re walking together. 

After that, it was you throwing your legs over Jake’s lap at the bleachers.

Another time, when you showed up to practice in his varsity jacket.

Then out of nowhere, you start taking it further.

You start getting handsy in public; at practice, outside of the locker rooms, at parties. Not that Jake minds, he’s just curious to know what caused this. He isn’t complaining, not when you look like that and when you let Jake walk around with his hand stuffed into your back pocket like he owns you—which if you ask him, he does.

But it all hits him when they’re at another party.

When Sunghoon told him his omega is throwing yet another party, Jake automatically agrees, because wherever Sunghoon goes, he goes. And wherever Sunghoon's omega is, you are. You get the idea.

He goes with the intent of seeing you, and free weed, but mainly for you.

So when they get to the familiar house, Jake is on a mission to find you. He leaves Sunghoon and his omega to go around and find you, stopping by the kitchen to grab a cup of spiked punch for him and one for you.

He’s about to head upstairs when, just like last time, Riki stops him.

“Weed?”

Jake makes a mental note to text you and ask him where he is, before nodding. “Lead the way.”

Like the last time, they’re seated on the same couch, smoking Riki’s weed again. Except, you’re nowhere in sight.

Riki leans his head back, exhaling a thin cloud before handing the roll to Jake. “Did you figure things out last time?”

“Yeah,” Jake takes a hit, holding it in for a few seconds before exhaling. “But I can’t find her.”

“Who, ____?” Jake nods in affirmative.

“You sure she’s even here? I haven’t seen her since I got here. Want me to ask my girl?” Riki asks, already reaching for his phone.

“Nah, it’s cool. Pretty sure she’ll show up soon.” Jake shakes his head, waving the joint around before Riki plucks it from his fingers.

Riki shrugs, “If you say so.”

It’s quiet, but comfortable. That’s something Jake likes about Riki: the fact that he never feels the need to fill the space with meaningless small talk. They sit side by side, smoking in silence until someone walks up to them.

It’s a girl, another cheerleader on Sunghoon's omega’s team by the look of the uniform. She holds a cigarette out, asking them for a lighter.  Riki motions to his pocket, mumbling something to Jake. He gets the hint and digs into Riki’s pocket, flicking the lighter open for the stranger. She bends over, closer to the flame to light the end of the stick.

“Thanks, you’re Jake right? Sunghoon's omega’s boyfriend’s friend?” She asks, already making herself comfortable on the handle of the couch.

Jake hums, head tilted back and eyes heavy. “Yeah, best friend.” The girl nods in greeting. “I’m Yun.”

“Riki,” Riki cuts in, snatching his lighter back before shoving it into his pocket. He stands up, shoving his small bag of weed into his hoodie. “My girl is looking for me, see you later Jake.”

Jake nods in goodbye, watching as Riki makes it across the room to the end of the stairs to meet his omega. The sight of Riki’s stupidly bright smile and her fond grin makes his stomach churn. He misses you.

He pulls out his phone, remembering to shoot a text to you.

jakey: where r u jakey: miss u jakey: lonely :(

Jake frowns when you don't reply, and he’s starting to regret smoking because he forgot how clingy it makes him. He huffs, pocketing his phone. He is not going to pout at a party. The girl clears her throat, reminding him that she’s still there. Jake glances up at her.

“Can I have one of your cups?” Yun asks, motioning to the two cups on the table in front of her that say Jake in sharpie.

Jake frowns, shaking his head. “No.”

The girl looks momentarily taken aback, before she recovers, tilting her head. “Why do you have two?”

“Because one is for ____.” He shoots back defensively, leaning forward to place the cups closer to him.

“____? Oh. The one on the team?” She looks up in thought. “She’s pretty cute.”

“Yeah, she is.”

Yun hums. “I think she has a boyfriend or something though.”

“Really?” Jake questions, partially out of curiosity, and mostly because he’s the only boy there could be.

“She comes to practice with hickeys sometimes. And people say they see her and some football player messing around all the time, plus she always smells like another alpha.” Her lips curl down at the corners.

Jake raises a brow in amusement and he has to hold back his laugh. “Really?”

Yun nods enthusiastically, looking around before leaning closer. “Can I have a cup now? I don’t think she’s even here.”

Jake closes his eyes, irritation bubbling under his skin. He forces down a growl, “No, I told you already. It’s for—”

“Me, Yun. It’s for me.”

Jake has never looked up so fast in his life.

“____!” Jake is so happy he could cry.

Your eyes soften at this, and before you know it, Jake is pulling you down right next to him, grabbing one of your legs to throw it over his own. 

“I texted you and you didn’t reply.” Jake says, rubbing his forehead against your cheek.

You rub his nape with a hand, letting Jake rub and scent all over you as he pleases. Jake leans back at the sight of a familiar jacket. “Hey, this is mine.”

You laugh, making yourself comfortable and resting your other leg next to the one already over Jake’s thighs. Jake wraps an arm around your waist, and he can’t help but feel content because: one, he’s warm, and two, he really missed you so bad.

He voices it out loud, “Missed you.”

“Of course you did. God, you’re so clingy when you’re high.” You joke, but you rub your knuckles under Jake’s chin as a way of saying it back.

“Oh, I saved a cup for you. It might be warm now though, it was sitting for a while.” Jake reaches for it, and registers that the random girl isn’t with them anymore.

“It’s okay, Jakey. You can get me another one, yeah?” You reply, and Jake nods, standing up right away, keeping an arm around your shoulders. “God—baby, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Do you know how long I waited for you? Me and Riki smoked like, three prerolls. I counted.”

“Okay, dumbass. You can count. Now come get me a drink.” You start walking, and Jake follows, as always.

He says at your side, with his arm now around your waist. When they make it to the kitchen, Jake almost throws up at the sight of Sunghoon and his omega making out against a counter.

Jake groans exaggeratedly, tightening his hold on you. “Dude! There’s people here!”

Sunghoon's omega flips him off, only stopping to look over Sunghoon’s shoulder once she sees who Jake is with. She whispers something in Sunghoon’s ear, who turns to side-eye Jake.

“Why are they looking at me like that?” Jake says under his breath, against your ear.

You tilt your head back to look at him. “I don’t know. Maybe because you look dumb.” Jake sulks at this. “Why are you so mean?”

He only receives a pat on the cheek. “Get me a drink, please.” Is all you say before slipping out from under his arm to go meet Sunghoon's omega.”

Jake mumbles to himself about how he’s unappreciated and nobody cares about him, not even Sunghoon.

“Sunghoon what?” 

Jake jolts. “What?”

Sunghoon squints at him. “Are you high?”

“No.” Jake replies, smoothly, too focused on pouring you a drink.

“Uh-huh. What’s up with you and ____?” Sunghoon asks, taking a cup for himself.

“What do you mean?” Jake says, turning to lean back against the counter, eyes drawn to you instantly.

Sunghoon follows his line of sight. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.” 

“Hey. You made an oath, remember? No lying to your best friend.” Sunghoon nudges him with his elbow.

Jake groans, “You only bring that up when you want something.”

“So?” Sunghoon says, expectantly.

“I told you, nothing’s going on,” he replies. Jake’s chest burns with fondness when he sees you laughing, eyes crinkling at the edges and your pretty teeth on display. “It’s nothing.”

“Yeah, okay. Tell that to the mirror. And your stupid lovesick scent says everything, dumbass. You stink.” Jake can practically hear the sarcasm in Sunghoon’s tone, and he doesn’t have to look to know that he’s rolling his eyes.

“Whatever.” Jake trails off when you meet his gaze, sending him a small smile. He almost thinks it’s cute until he sees Sunghoon's omega, who’s glaring at him, practically cursing him with her eyes. 

“Sunghoon. He’s doing it again.”

“Huh?” Sunghoon pauses for a second before throwing his head back and laughing. “Oh. Babe! I told you, you could totally beat him in a fight.”

Jake shouts in protest, only quieting down when you sidle up next to him. His voice gets caught in his throat, enamored by the way you look so, so pretty. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” You lean against his chest, standing between his legs. 

Damn it, he thinks to himself, he’s so fond. “Wanna get out of here?”

Your nose scrunches up at this. “Greasy. The worst line ever,” You detach yourself from Jake. “I need to go to the bathroom first, come with me?”

Jake nods wordlessly, suppressing a smile when you grab his hand and slings it over your shoulders, latching onto his side. Jake likes this, like, really likes this. 

“Reel it in, Jake. Your alpha is showing.” You shake your head, and Jake forgets that you can smell how pleased he is through his scent.

You lead them to the bathroom at the bottom of the stairs, telling him to wait for you. Jake nods, leaning against the wall while he waits obediently. You laugh, mumbling something about how he’s like a big puppy, and he can’t even find it in himself to argue back when you’re right.

He’s on his phone, tapping through people’s Instagram stories when he gets tapped on the shoulder.

“Hey! Jake, right?” 

Jake turns to see Yun, standing a head shorter than him. Jake suppresses a tired groan, because he doesn’t want to be bothered right now, just wanting to get you and go home. “Yeah.” Jake replies, looking back down at his phone.

He can see her shifting awkwardly on her feet. “Are you waiting for the bathroom?”

Jake glances at her before looking at the door. “No, I’m waiting for ____.” “Oh,” she murmurs. “Are you guys a thing?”

“What? We’re—”

She cuts him off with a hand. “No! I didn’t mean it like that—I’m not against alphas dating alphas or anything, fuck society, but I was just curious.”

Jake nods. “Ah. But no, we’re not.”

“Is it like an open relationship thing then?”

“Dude, you’re—” Jake stops himself, trying to withhold himself from bursting on this girl, who hasn’t done anything to warrant it. “No, it’s not.”

“I mean, it’s cool if it is! I was just wondering if you were single.” She gives him a smile, and Jake narrows his eyes. “Is that too forward? It’s cool if you guys are in an open relationship, I’m not opposed to sharing.”

Jake can’t stop the annoyed sigh he lets out. “You talk way too fucking much.”

She frowns. “You don’t have to be rude.”

“Honestly, you’re overstepping right now,” Jake says, hand dragging down his face. “You’re killing my mood.”

“You’re being an asshole.” She spits out, crossing her arms.

Jake snorts, finding the whole situation amusing and exhausting. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

He silently sends a thanks to you when the bathroom door opens. Jake is quick to turn around and hold onto you, pulling you out of the bathroom in a rush. “Thank fuck, I was about to lose my shit.”

“What’s wrong?” You make a confused noise.

“Are you guys together or not?” Yun says, bringing the attention back to her.

Jake rolls his eyes, letting out a frustrated groan. “Please.”

“He’s not gonna fuck you.” Jake watches as you narrow your eyes at her, your scent spiking.

Jake bites his lip to hold back a laugh. “It’s not like you guys are together. Don’t you think that he’d wanna try dating an omega, rather than an alpha?”

“It’s not like he’d wanna fuck you either way,” you say, arm wrapping around Jake’s waist protectively. “Did you need something else? Because I have no problem with you watching us fuck if that’s what you’re really curious about.”

Yun’s face twists in disgust. “You guys are gross. And your boyfriend is an asshole anyways.” “I know.” You reply, and you both watch her turn on her heels and walk away.

When Yun is out of their line of sight, Jake sighs, turning in your hold and hugging you against his chest. Jake’s chest puffs up with pride and his heart swells. “My knight in shining armor. You’re so cute, did I tell you that already?”

You roll your eyes but your face is fond, letting Jake press his face against your neck. You place a kiss on Jake’s neck in return. “Let’s just get out of here, I wanna fuck.”

Jake fakes a pout. “All you want me for is my body.”

“She’s right. You’re an asshole. Hurry up before the offer expires.” You kiss him quickly, before slipping out of his grip and running into the crowd.

Jake’s heart starts to race at the challenge. If you want him to chase you, he will. 

He counts a few seconds in his head before following after you, searching for a jacket with Jake Sim emblazoned on the back.

Jake slips out the door, finding you a few feet ahead of him. It’s already night, and goosebumps rise on his arms from the cold as he runs towards you, catching you in his arms. 

“Wanna fuck in the car?” “No.”

Like always, Jake gets what he wants.

Five minutes later, just as he planned, they’re seated in the back of your car.

The windows are fogged, and he feels thankful that your windows are conveniently tinted—although he wouldn’t mind fucking in the back even if they weren’t.

“Fuck, Jake,” you breathe heavily against him, and Jake has to hold your hips in place to keep you from bucking up against his mouth and hitting him in the nose. “Jakey, fuck, yes.”

If there’s one thing that Jake likes doing, it’s eating you out. 

Even since the first time you taught him, he still finds himself addicted to it. Maybe it’s the fact that you make the prettiest sounds when he does, but honestly, he just likes to make you feel good. Jake thinks he could eat you out for hours.

He’s ripped out of his thoughts when you place a hand into his hair, using the grip to hold him there so you can grind your hips against Jake’s tongue. 

“Hngh, Jake—fuck!” you cry when Jake hums against you, licking along your folds before sucking your clit softly. He uses the hands he has around your thighs to pull you even closer.

Jake relishes in the moans you let out, pulling back the slightest bit to lick circles against your clit. He looks up to drink in the sight of you with your head thrown back, eyes rolled to the back of your head. 

You shake in his hold, and Jake can practically feel the way you’re clenching around nothing. He moans, licking along your slit again before thrusting his tongue inside your hole.

“Oh,” it elicits a whimper out of you, one that breaks off into a long drawn out moan. “Jakey, do—do it again.”

He obeys, fucking his tongue inside of your hole a couple more times before coming back up to suck at your clit. The sounds they’re making are dirty, and Jake closes his eyes at the sound of the wet slurping noises filling up the car. 

You grind up against his mouth. “Fuck, fuck your tongue feels so good. Ah!”

Jake lifts his head, licking his lips before kissing your inner thigh. “You gotta be quiet, people are gonna hear you.”

It’s impossible. Especially because the music coming from the house is too loud and nobody would be able to hear them unless they come to the car, but he likes to entertain the thought anyways, and he knows it gets you off too. 

He smirks against your thigh when it brings a soft, breathy moan out of you. “Yeah? You’d probably like that, huh? You want them to hear you, want them to hear you whine like a fucking bitch with your alpha’s tongue inside of you.”

“Jake, Jakey, please,” your face contorts in frustration when Jake holds your hips down. “Keep going.”

“Say it. Tell me how much you want them to hear you,” Jake replies, moving a hand down to play with your clit. He rubs slowly, just to be a little shit. “Tell me, angel. C’mon.”

You shake your head, “I just—fuck, please.”

“You know what to say.” His breath ghosts over your pussy. 

“Want—want everyone to hear me, want them to hear how good you fuck me,” you pant, head thrown back against the window. “Fuck, want everyone to know how much of a slut I am for you, alpha.”

Jake delivers a harsh suck to your clit, fingers entering your hole at the same time. You sound absolutely wrecked, voice cracking every time you moan. “Gonna stretch you out, open you up so good. Get you ready for my cock.”

You nod erratically, “yeah, yeah. Stretch me open—shit!” Jake curls his fingers, scissoring them and pumping them inside of your hole. The noises are loud, wet squelching mixing with moans and bouncing off the inner walls of the car. 

“Jake, want you now. Can’t wait anymore. Wanna cum on your cock, please.” You get out between cries. 

“Shit, yeah? Fuck, c’mere,” the position is awkward, but he leans back onto his knees to bring their lips together. You pant into the kiss, hips bucking up against Jake’s thigh. “Turn around.”

It’s hard to make it work in the small vicinity of the car, but with Jake’s back pressed to his chest and you on your knees on the seats, you make it work.

He runs his hands along your body, squeezing appreciatively when you shiver. You whine, pushing back against his dick. “Jake, fuck me already, want you now.”

“I don’t have a condom,” he says, looking around the car.

You huff, “I don’t fucking care. We’re both clean and if you don’t fuck me now I’ll kick you out of the car.”

“Impatient.” Jake kisses your shoulder before pulling himself out of his pants. He strokes himself a few times before grabbing his cock to slap it against your cunt. He slides the length between your folds, coating himself in slick to get himself wet. Jake runs the head of his cock against your hole before entering the tip in slowly.

“Fuck,” he groans out when you clench around him. “How are you so fucking tight.”

You both moan simultaneously when Jake finally bottoms out, hips flush against your ass. “Fuck. Gonna fuck you until you’re fucking loose. Gonna have you on my cock all the time.”

You pant, “Like you don’t—fucking do already.”

Jake pulls out to thrust back in harshly, shoving his face into your neck and groaning at the feeling of you so wet and tight around him. “You’re so pretty baby, such a pretty fucking cocksleeve.”

“Shit, Jake!” Jake’s thrusts are fast, unrelenting. The only thought on his mind is to make you come, to make you come first.

The sounds of his hips and balls slapping against you has him groaning, biting into your shoulder. “Wanna fill you up, fill you up with my cum. Gonna knock you up, fuck.”

Jake can feel his dick throbbing inside of you, and his hips stutter at the thought of getting you pregnant. “Gonna—gonna get you pregnant, let everyone know you’re mine. That I’m the only one getting you fuck you like this.”

He pulls your hips flush against him as he thrusts in rapidly, throwing his head back at the feeling of you clenching around him again. “You like that? Wanna walk around full of my cum, knocked up like a dumb whore.”

Your body trembles beneath him as you whimper out pleas. “Yes, yes, fuck, wanna—want it so bad.”

Jake wraps his arms around your waist, hand finding purchase on the smooth expanse of your tummy. “Baby, can you feel that?”

You hold yourself up with one hand, the other feeling around to find Jake’s where it is on your belly. Jake places his hand over yours, pushing down on your tummy. “You’re so fucking tiny, I can feel my cock rubbing up right against your fucking stomach.”

This pulls a throaty moan out of you. Jake’s thrusts don’t let up, and he pulls out until the tip of his cock is against your hole before slamming inside in one go. 

“Baby, talk to me,” Jake says, his breath hot against your ear. He knows how you get, too fucked dumb to even speak. “Hm?”

Your mouth drops open, and Jake takes this chance to slip his fingers in your mouth. It’s wet, and he can feel the drool pooled up and dribbling down the side of your chin. 

He stills, cock still buried to the hilt. “I told you to do something.”

“Mmph!” It comes out muffled around his fingers. Just to be a little shit, he pushes down on your tongue, chuckling lowly when you gag.

“I’m not gonna move until you do what I asked.” Jake keeps his fingers in your mouth, repeating himself.

You shake your head, mewling when drool escapes from the corners of your mouth. “I—hmph.”

Jake presses down on your tongue again before thrusting his fingers deeper, barely hitting the back of your throat. “God, you’re fucking drooling everywhere like a whore.”

He takes mercy on you, finally pulling his fingers out of your mouth with little resistance. You gasp, head lolling and forehead coming into contact with the window. 

Your voice comes out broken, “Jake, fuck, please—need to come so bad, want your cock so bad, please, I’ll be so good.”

Jake decides to be nice, pulling out before thrusting inside roughly. He trails his spit slicked fingers down your jaw to circle around your nipple, smearing the spit there. You jolt, hips bucking back against Jake’s cock.

“You always get so dumb when you have a cock inside you, huh? That’s all it takes for you to shut up?” Jake pinches your nipple. “You’re so fucking easy.”

You clench sporadically around his dick, telltale signs that you’re getting close. Jake brings his hand lower to rub at your clit rapidly, hips never slowing. 

Jake growls against your neck, “Such a dumb bitch. You’re a dumb puppy. Right? Getting fucked by another alpha like a stupid omega.” 

You scream at this, voice high pitched when you cum around Jake’s cock. Jake groans at the feeling of your walls tightening around him, rolling his eyes when he feels wetness seeping down his balls and to his thighs. 

Jake doesn’t let up, fucking you through your climax. “Fuck, you fucking squirted? You really are a dumb fucking bitch.”

He hears you sob, and it only spurs him on further. Jake fucks into you at an animalistic pace, stomach tightening at the whines and whimpers you’re letting out. 

“Jakey, Jake, can’t—it’s too much, ah!” You cry, cheek pressing up against the window. 

Jake growls against your neck, ���fucking take it.” 

His hips stutter when you choke on a sob, the band in his stomach finally snapping. He buries himself to the hilt, making sure to coat every inch of your insides with his cum. 

Your hole flutters around him, tightening and clenching at the feeling of Jake’s cum, warm and hot, filling you up to the brim. 

Jake manhandles them back against the seats, making sure to keep his cum plugged into you. He leans back, you now in his lap, back against his chest. At this angle, he feels even deeper, and he can’t stop himself from thrusting up into your heat once more.

You protest, scrambling until your hands are holding onto the back of the driver’s seat. “I’m, I’m too sensitive.” 

He spreads your legs, hand coming down between them to rub at your swollen, abused clit. Jake suppresses a smirk when you flinch, tightening around him in surprise. 

“Jake, I can’t—it’s too much, please,” you beg, squirming in Jake’s lap.

“Your alpha is still hard, baby. Be good for me, you’re gonna cum again, okay? I know you can.” Jake kisses your shoulder, nosing along your nape. 

You shake your head, panting heavily. “I can’t, Jake, please.”

Jake tuts, hand still rubbing circles against your clit. He brings his other hand to play with your nipples, knowing where you’re the most sensitive like the back of his hand.

“C’mon, I know you can. You wanna be good for me, yeah?” He places a wet kiss onto your neck when you nod. “Be a good omega and cum again, wanna feel you cum around my cock again.”

You gulp, exhaling through your nose. Your whole body shakes and quivers in Jake’s hold. Jake talks you through it, whispering about how good you are and how obedient you are. 

He brings the hand that was playing with your nipple up to wrap around your throat, applying the slightest pressure there. Jake thrusts his hips up at the same time as he squeezes your throat — and that’s all it takes to push you over the edge again.

You curl up, too fucked out to do anything other than cum and sob silently. Jake feels it when you cum, your walls tightening around his cock. He squeezes again before releasing his hold around your neck to turn your head and capture your lips in a kiss.

The angle makes it hard for them to kiss, but you take it all, opening your mouth obediently and letting Jake explore every inch of your mouth with his tongue. They kiss lazily for a few more minutes before you pull away with a wince.

“My seats are gonna be so gross,” you say, leaning your head back to rest against Jake’s.

He wraps his arms around your waist. “Who’s fault is that?” 

“Yours. You’re the one who always wants to fuck in the fucking car. In my car!” You shoot back. You make a sound of protest when Jake goes to pull out. “Don’t! It’s gonna make a bigger mess.”

“Liar, you just like the fact that my cum is inside of you right now.” Jake teases. 

You groan, “Shut up, no I don’t.” They both know it’s a lie.

“Kinky,” he strokes your stomach with a thumb. “Hey.”

You hum, still leaning against his chest. “Are we… Are we gonna keep acting like this?”

“Like what?” You question.

“Like we hate each other.” Jake replies. 

It’s silent for a few minutes before you speak again, “is that what you want?”

“Is that what you want?” Jake repeats. 

You swallow, the sound making an audible click inside the quiet car. “Let’s talk about this when you’re not literally balls deep inside of me.”

Jake makes a sound of agreement, but he can’t help the uneasy feeling that fills his chest. He listens, trusting that they’ll cross that bridge when they get there, because if there’s anything about Jake, it’s that he always wins and he always gets what he wants. 

And what Jake wants? It’s always been you.

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