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valentinedrifter · 2 days ago

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Days with Yuri: Packages

male reader x Jo Yuri

~12k words

A/N: A friend said "yuri fic when" so, here you go I guess? Also a lot of yapping involved, so apologies for that.

Enjoy.

You should’ve expected this to happen.

Jjoyul: Sharing Live Location. HELP NOW ASAP PLS

You blink. You squint.

What the fuck?

You read it again.

What the fuck, that’s not her address.

You: whats going on

Jjoyul: I NEED HELP I SWEAR ILL O U 1

You: with what where are you even are you safe

You sit up from your bed, rubbing a hand on your face in annoyance. Out of all the days, it had to be the day you slept in late for her to fuck about and make you find out instead.

Jjoyul: SAFEST PLACE IN D WORLD RN WILL XPLAIN LATR CAN U PLS COME T_T

You were halfway into typing the word “no” and go back to cuddling your comforter and enjoying some more well deserved sleep until your phone buzzed two more times.

Jjoyul: Image attached. PLSSSSSSS

You groan. Half tempted to throw your phone on the nightstand and forget all about the messages. Half tempted to open the image and hope that you can have an idea on what’s actually going on.

You let the angel on your shoulder win this round and open your phone.

Yuri’s face takes up your screen, sitting down on a couch with an all-familiar pout on her lips, finger pressing her chin, wide innocent eyes, and an adorable little head tilt. You’re pretty sure you’ve seen this type of picture so many times that you feel like she’s recycling old pictures.

You wonder how this brat can be this cute yet so annoying at times because you’re falling for her endearingly irritating tactic of cuteness to get you to help her with whatever it is she needs help with. You were about to press the location text she sent to see where she actually is when she sent one last message.

Jjoyul: ILL EVEN COOK U LUNCH AND DINNER NEXT TIME

Now while free food is nice, Yuri’s cooking is something else. Not that you’d ever tell her that because, well, her ego would skyrocket, but she could cook an egg and you’d think a sous chef made it.

The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach and all that. Your sleep-deprived brain isn’t helping much in that regard to stop it. Besides, it’s free food on call.

What’s the worst that could happen?

You: fine, be there in 30

Jjoyul: U DA BESTTTTTTT IM AT 221 BTW TELL THE LADY THAT UR HERE 4 ME TYTYTY <3

And so began your quick shower, a salmon riceball for brunch, and you’re walking out the door heading to her location. Said place is an apartment complex that looks similar to yours—tall, muted colors, minimalistic design—and you start to wonder what she’s doing in a place so far away from where she lives.

She was surprisingly close to your place too—a good ten minute walk to wake the legs up—and you’re stepping into the lobby to be greeted by the receptionist.

You tell her that you’re here for a “Jo Yuri” and all she does is raise an eyebrow.

“No packages?” Her head tilts in confusion.

“...No?” You respond. “Am I supposed to have one?”

“Oh, no, no!” The lady chuckles. “She’s been getting a lot lately, I thought you would be dropping off some more.”

She points you to where you can get to 221, and after thanking her, your mind stops to think:

What the fuck is she doing here?

You take the stairs, faster that way since she’s just a floor up, and you’re standing in front of apartment 221.

You take a deep breath, curl your fingers, prep yourself to call the cops if you need to, and knock.

Tap-tap-tap.

Silence greets you. You wait. Then try again.

Tap-tap-tap.

Still, no answer. You air out a ‘huh’ and decide to just–

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-

“Just a second!” Yuri’s muffled voice comes out of the door, and you hear her padded footsteps rushing.

The lock clicks, the handle turns, and you’re greeted to the sight of a disheveled looking Yuri grinning up to you.

“Hey–” She huffs, grabbing your arm and tugging you inside. Her hand is warm against yours, but it was gone as quickly as it came. “You got here pretty fast.”

“It’s a few blocks away from mine.” You turn around to see her already closing the door before leaning back to it, arms behind her back to face you, giving you a chance to properly look at her.

Hair framing that lovable face, smile that radiates trouble, crescents that screams innocent excitement all wrapped in a baggy shirt hanging off one shoulder and some shorts that hides her figure.

Not that you’d know anything about it, you just…saw it a couple of times. Like when you two attended Minju’s wedding as friends.

Totally not as each other’s wedding date.

You definitely didn’t give her that wide-eyed stare when you picked her up. Or notice how beautiful she looked in the white dress which showed off a bit too much cleavage that definitely didn’t do things to both your heads. Or stand a little too close when one of the groomsmen complimented her on her looks.

And you really didn’t hold her hips when she dragged you to the dance floor because her favorite slow dance started playing. Didn’t like how your hands felt perfect on her. Didn’t feel your heart skip a beat when she gave you that smile when it ended.

You swear it wasn’t awkward the next few weeks after.

Nope. You’re absolutely sure that you and her were totally okay for that period of time.

You focus back on Yuri, who’s gotten close enough to lean into your personal space, face almost touching your chest, shirt swinging low enough for you to see a hint of her generous chest. You can even smell the jasmine radiating off her.

She’s too close.

You blink. She chuckles.

You take a step back. She straightens.

Speaking of personal spaces–“Where are we, exactly?”

“This, exactly, is–” She stretches it out, making drum roll gestures, dancing around you. “–drumroll please–”

She stops, expecting eyes and a beaming set of lips looking up to you.

She wags her eyebrows. You sigh.

“Seriously?” You ask. Her smile widens.

You roll your eyes. She grins.

You make drum roll sounds. She makes drum roll hands as she continues to step backward into the middle of the living room before stretching her arms wide and giving a tiny hop.

“Jo Yuri’s brand new, very own home!” She declares, posing like a little kid who won the lottery. “Ta–da!”

The place was semi-furnished, all the heavier things already out and ready to be used like the couch on one end and the flat screen mounted on the wall. But what’s really getting to you are the amount of boxes in the room.

All the colors you can think of, all the different sizes, labeled, unlabeled, packed, unpacked; They were everywhere, from the floor to the kitchen counter. You don’t even want to know what was inside. God forbid she hands you one of them and it just so happens to be her underwear.

She wouldn’t do that anyway. You trust her enough to know what’s inside all the boxes.

It’s still a mess overall though, and as you’re taking it in, you realize:

You’re here to help her unpack all her shit.

“Pretty nice ain’t it?” Everything about her screams pride of what she’s accomplished—she should be—like the hands on her hips and the way she says it.

“Don’t know about pretty, but it is nice.” You look behind her, eyeing the amount of boxes that were basically mocking you at this point. “How much shit do you even have? And when did you move in here?”

“This is like, eighty percent of it, give or take.” Jesus Christ. “I tried doing it on my own but there’s too many and I didn’t wanna bother the movers because they already helped with all the big appliances and I thought–”

Yuri’s making that thinking pose then a lightbulb gesture like she’s in a sitcom. “–Why do it alone when I can do it with my favorite person in the whole wide world!”

“I thought that was Yena?” You deadpan.

She opens her mouth to answer, then closes it. Her eyes look to the side. Her lips make a thinking face. She looks too damn adorable.

She opens her mouth to answer. “My second! Favorite person in the whole wide world!”

“That’s not how that works, Yuri.” Your head shakes. “Not at all.”

“It is to me.” She giggles, picking up one of the smaller boxes. “Besides, this is a lot more fun than getting this done all alone.”

“Don’t I have a say in this?” She pushes said box to your chest. “This is gonna take us all day.”

“You said yes the moment you agreed to my cooking.” She patters back to the couch, sitting on the small empty space it still has. “No take backs.”

Well, she’s got you there. Her cooking’s worth a day of unpacking all her stuff anywho.

“Can I renegotiate to have that lunch and dinner for two days?” You ask, cross legging down on the floor, opening up the box that contained kitchen utensils.

Fitting, considering the conversation.

“If we manage to get this done before–” She pauses, a box in her lap as she picks up a boxcutter. “Before dinner, I’ll make you food for the next week.”

“Say no more.” You let out a chuckle, the prospect of having Yuri cook for you till the next week already makes you salivate as you stand up to head into the kitchen.

As soon as you see the counter, you freeze.

The kitchen’s chock full of boxes.

Fuck.

—

They seemed never ending, but you two managed to settle into a rhythm. You handled everything that was for the kitchen and the living room, she took care of the bathroom and the bedroom.

She didn’t bother with the labels anymore, just ripped the box open and handed it to you if it was different things for her shelves. You open them with care and precision so as not to make an even bigger mess of the already boxed up fuckery mess that is her apartment.

You can hear her in the bedroom, the rustling of the boxes coming out of the doorway when you came back from putting some of the cartons away and into the front door, so you take the chance to pick out something easy to unpack since you’ve been given all the big ones—definitely didn’t feel like you were setup.

So you pick up one of the smallest boxes you could see, sit down on the couch and lay it down on your lap.

The box itself was small, jet-black and discreet, not unlike all the other bright and colorful ones that preceded it. It was tightly wrapped as well, red tape all over the carton in a criss-crossy pattern.

Nothing the cutter couldn’t handle.

You open it up, thinking that it was another-some-set of something that you feel like you can convince her to sell off because she seriously has too much stuff for one girl so you part the flaps and—

Dick.

Surprisingly detailed, with all the veins and contours and curls shaping it, the smooth head at the top staring back at you. Although the color ruined any form of realism, somewhere between vermillion or coquelicot or sienna—fucking red—that was practically screaming out what it is.

You blink. Two, three, four times.

You close the flaps. Your eyes follow, nose inhaling deep, mouth exhaling slowly, mind counting to ten.

And then you open it again.

Dicks.

Multiple, plural, a lot. Some were small, others looked like a lightstick—that’s a vibrator—and there was even something metallic tucked in the bottom, underneath all the bubble wrap.

You squint, hands frozen on the black carton, not trusting them to touch anything inside and holy shit is that a pair of handcuffs?

You don’t even want to know why she has so many because your mind is already being sidetracked to what she’s doing with them. How often she uses them, which one was her favorite—

“Hey, how’s it going with the rest?” Yuri calls out, casually walking back into the living room.

You’re stuck, heat creeping up your ears, brain short circuiting, doing its damnedest to hot wire it back into thinking, acting, anything as you’re left frozen in time staring into the deep abyss of the box.

“What’s up with you?” Her chin rests on your shoulder, a grin on her features, chest pushing against your back and the smell of citrus invading your nostrils.

It wasn’t until she saw what was in the box that made her lose all emotion, utter the Lord’s name in vain and straight up dive bomb into your arms.

“Gimme that!” She screams, her chest flattening against you sending even more thoughts into your head, her hands already snatching the hellish thing from your grasp, one hand closing the flaps and the other wrapping around the carton.

“You weren’t supposed to see that yet.” She mutters, holding it close to her chest, protecting it from you, or vice versa. It didn’t really matter to you.

What matters was whatever the hell ‘yet’ meant.

“Well, I mean, I can-uh-fuck-” You’re stumbling, sputtering. Because what the fuck do you even say when you find a box full of sextoys that weren’t yours? “I can forget this ever happened?”

“Can you?” She asks, glares really. Raised eyebrow, doubtful eyes, the complete package of disbelief written on her. “Can you really?”

No, you really couldn’t. But you don’t even get the chance to tell her before she stands up.

“Just–don’t bring it up.” She sighs, walking away from you and back into her bedroom.

And it wasn’t. Nobody brought it up for a while, the both of you focusing on unpacking, folding, cleaning. It was all you two did, not even bothering to make conversation. Not without bringing up the box again.

Until she started to do something extremely simple.

Be a mess.

And she’s dragging you into becoming one when she keeps brushing past you even if she didn’t have to. You could be sitting down on the couch and she’d walk past you to get the box that was right next to you instead of the ones that were stacked up right next to her bedroom door.

It wasn’t like there was a lack of them, if anything there were too many. And she kept doing it anyway.

Yuri didn’t even do anything that you’d consider odd or anything and she’s already distracting you. Every pass, brush of your hands, glances that were a bit too long.

You were trying to pretend that you didn’t notice anything and gaslit yourself into thinking it wasn’t intentional. To leave her to do whatever she wants because it is her house but this, this was like scratching an itch.

If an itch were to ask her why she had so many dildos, that is.

You were rinsing up a few of her mugs when she plops down the couch, halfway empty of the cartons that were seated a few hours ago.

It was a mistake glancing because–

“Why do I keep so much stuff.” She moans out, the first words uttered after the box. Her arms stretched upward, her shirt riding up just a bit to show that bellybutton of hers.

You tell yourself you weren’t staring. She’s just casually seducing you with an arm stretch and the temptation to ask her about the damn box grows higher.

“That sounds like a you problem than anything else.” You snap back down, focusing back on the cups. “Why’d you even bother moving out? I thought you shared the old place with Nako.”

“I did, I just…” Yuri goes silent for a moment, before she crosses her legs and gives you these adorable little puppy eyes that make you wanna squish her cheeks. “Promise you won’t tell her? Or anyone else?”

“You don’t need to tell me if it’s too personal, Yuls.” You shake the glass you’re holding. “We can always leave it at that.”

“It’s not really for me, it’s more for her than anything else.” She shakes her head, grabbing a nearby plushie of a bear she left on the couch because she needs one for ‘couch cuddles’. You remember getting that one for her birthday along with a new set of guitar strings.

And she wonders why she keeps so much extra shit like her toys—

“Just please promise me you won’t tell anyone?” She hugs said bear, keeping it close to her chest. “Pretty please?”

“Alright, alright, I promise.” You place the mug down on the dishwasher.

“Swear it.”

“I just said I promised.” You give her a look, as if she’s seriously asking you to double down on an agreement made just seconds ago.

“I need your utmost trust on this.” Yuri glares. It wasn’t scary at all, not with the bear looking at you with a permanent smile on its face. You wonder what that bear’s seen. Or felt.

“Wha-Fine.” You sigh, leaning back onto the counter. “I swear on my need for an eight-hour-sleep that I won’t tell anybody about what you will say.”

She narrows her eyes. “That’s not enough.”

“You know how much I need my eight hours.”

“Everyone needs eight hours, idiot.” She shakes her head, an arm gesturing upwards. She wasn’t exactly wrong. You just thought you needed it more than everyone else because you have the tendency to stay up a lot.

“On my rank in League.” You state. “Happy now?”

That seemed to do the trick when Yuri hums for a moment to think, then nods. She knows how much you play that game to a near unhealthy degree back then before you were convinced—forcefully, you may add—to take a step back from it. Looking back, you’re a bit thankful that happened.

Lord knows what you would be doing if you kept that up.

But it doesn’t mean you stopped though. Maybe a long break or two, but you always come back to playing it like a drug. You were simply volun-told how to take the proper dosages.

“Now, what’s the big deal about you moving out?” You move to sit on the couch, facing Yuri who’s now hiding her face behind the bear.

“Uhm,” She stalls. Eyes darting from you to the bear she’s holding, gripping it tighter. “So you know how Nako’s been seeing Hitomi for a while now?”

“Uh-huh.”

“They may or may not be doing things when theythinkI'msleepingnextdoor.” She rushes, cheeks reddening at the words that came out as she hides further into her bear.

Silence precipitates the room, giving you the chance to soak in whatever Yuri just said.

“Hold on.” You start, lips unconsciously curving upwards. “You moved out because you couldn’t stand them fucking?”

“It’s more than that!” She shouts, slapping you with the bear in such a weak manner it makes you laugh.

“They’ve been wanting to move in together so I thought I’d move out instead.” She explains, grabbing a small yellow box on the table. “They wouldn’t have to worry about looking for another place if I did.”

“Pretty selfless of you.” You comment, leaning back and watching her rip the carton apart. “What made you wanna do that?”

She bites her lip, hesitating, hands stopping from unfurling the bubble wrap covering something.

“Too much?” You ask again, knowing that this wasn’t about her roommate anymore.

“No, I’ve just…” She replies, before she turns to look at you. “I’ve been wanting to move out for a while now, you know? Nako’s been my roomie ever since uni, and before that I shared my room with my sister.”

“Ah. You have that dilemma.” You remember the decision to do it yourself. Your parents were fifty-fifty on it till you had to convince them it was better than hour long commutes to and from work.

“Yeah.” She nods, going back to focus on the wrap. “You must’ve went through that when you moved out.”

“I mean, sure.” Solo living had its perks. Made you appreciate doing chores yourself, you didn’t have to worry about anyone else’s dishes being left in the sink. You could walk around doing whatever with complete privacy, and no one would bat an eye for it.

“It gets lonely at times but you learn to do things for yourself every once in a while.” You add, leaning back to enjoy the soft cushion, watching her open up a box of books.

“And that’s why you got me, dummy.” She teases, picking up one of the books and giving it a once over. You can see a very familiar tie as the book cover and decide to keep that away for safekeeping.

Because a box full of sextoys isn’t enough for her, you guess.

“You do live pretty close by now.” You nod, standing up to pick up another blue container. “We can meet up more if you want.”

“You just like free food.” She bites, stacking up a few books of varying sizes.

“And you like my company.” You bite back, cutting the tape with the boxcutter, the ripping sound following each stroke. You won’t lie and say that you didn’t like the idea of seeing Yuri more often. Maybe even get a peak of what she’d be doing with one of those toys—

You immediately stop that line of thought and glance back at her after and notice one of the stacks she made was close to toppling. “Might want to put the biggest one on the bottom.”

“Shut up.” She looks down, biting her lip to stop the smiling forming on her face as she starts to fix up her makeshift jenga structure. “Anyway, it took me a while to find this apartment, and the movers were a pain in the ass to talk to.”

“What, they didn’t like that you had so much shit for a single person?” You grin, placing the cutter down. “You can always sell these things online.”

“What am I even gonna sell?” She mutters, arms up in the air as she stops re-arranging her novels on the table. She pauses, stares at the books, then looks up to you staring right back at her.

“Don’t say it.” She warns, shaking her head, eyes widening a tiny bit. “I swear to god, don’t you fucking say it.”

All you do is give her a smirk, extremely tempted to say exactly what you were both thinking. Her hands were already moving to hold onto a small novel, and while it may seem idiotic to tempt physical danger, it also sounds very fun to piss her off.

“The bo–” A thump resonates. A pained shout erupts. A groan follows.

“I told you not to say it.” She repeats, hands on her hips.

“Worth it though.” You grumble, hand rubbing your chest where the book hit you. “You’ll get money on the side anyway, what’s the big deal?”

“Getting to know what to sell is a big deal, duh.”

“You’re unpacking. This is like, the best time to.” You place her novel book on top of one of her stacks.

She slouches, looking like she’s considering the idea when she starts glancing around her towers of books and the rest of the taped up boxes. “Promise you’ll help?”

“If you tell me why you have a box full of sextoys, sure.” You smile, sitting down next to her. Externally, you looked cool as a cucumber. Internally, you were dying.

Why the fuck did that come out of your mouth, you wonder. You should’ve just agreed and be done with it but now the awkward silence was eating you alive.

“...Oh my god.” She groans, leaning back onto the couch. “I thought we already went past that!”

“Did we?” You shrug, taking another glance at her stack of books, pretending that you were completely okay with what you just blurted out. “I never agreed to that.”

“I hate you.” She smacks you with her plushie. “I seriously do.”

You laugh, flailing your arms to protect yourself from a bear. “No–you–don’t–”

She hits you a couple more times before she eventually stops—from exhaustion or from being lazy, you don’t know—and glares. Eyes narrowing, lips flattening, mind deliberating. All the while the bear is just staring at you.

The bear’s got a pretty cool hat you have to admit—

“Fine.” She states, lips slowly transforming into a grin. “If we still finish before dinner.”

“Yeah, I still get food though right–wait.” You stop, jaw dropping slowly. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.” She answers, crossing her arms around the bear. “I’ll even give you a live demo if you want.”

“I think I’m good with the story, thanks.” You chuckle bashfully, hands raising in surrender. Not that watching her fuck a dildo wasn’t hot as fuck, it’s simply very bad for your mental and physical health to be given a clear view to that show.

“You sure?” She draws the words out, smirking and teasing. She leans in, her hair falling, getting closer and closer till you can feel her breath on your face. “You don’t wanna see me suck on a strap like it’s your di–”

“Yes I’m fucking sure!” You answer—scream, really—as you stand up, away from any more of her teasing because your hands are starting to get that itch instead of your mouth. You scratch that itch by going back to the mundane job of grabbing boxes.

You don’t notice the grin on Yuri’s face become absolutely feral.

The next few hours were spent unpacking everything else that was still trapped in their boxes, and anything that she thought she could sell she’d leave in the living room. A bunch of books, extra cables, some plushies she has.

You’re sitting down on one of her chairs for a short break when you let your eyes wander the room. Aside from the large cartons that you both decided to leave for later, the place was halfway there to becoming a home.

It inevitably lands back towards her—it always does—where she’s pulling her shirt up to wipe the sweat off her brow. It also lets you have another peek at her waist, the same pair that you held with your own two hands on that wedding.

There’s always that lingering thought in your head on what her bare hips would feel like, caressing them, tracing every inch of skin with your fingers and wondering what her moans would sound like.

Your mind strays, imagining her face when you trail them upwards, moving closer and closer towards her chest, watching her features morph into something filthy. Begging for you to do more. Touch her, kiss her, tame her.

It’s a good thing they’re just thoughts and not actions cause you don’t know if you’d be able to stop yourself from doing all of that given the chance.

Her offer to give a live performance is enough to make your cock twitch. Add your thoughts into the mix and you’re becoming a horny teenager again.

You exhale through your nose, quietly, hiding it through a tilt of your cup and a sip of cold liquid.

“You never answered me earlier.” You let out, getting your mind out of the gutter for once.

It’s been happening too many times today.

“About what?” She peeks over the rim of her glass.

“About when you moved here.” You reiterate, elbows on your knees, placing the cup down on her coffee table. “What’s up with that?”

“Technically I started yesterday.” She scoffs. “But I had this place for a few weeks now when–”

She goes on about how she found out about the apartment through Yena and went with her mother to get an initial view. She got a deal to own it after a few years with a down payment and had the movers prep all her items throughout the weeks and have it all delivered in one go.

“I remember one of the assholes tried peeking down my top when they were moving the couch.” She gripes. “Wasn’t even trying to be subtle about it cause he kept sticking close, the creep.”

“...Do I need to talk to the guy?”

“Mom already handled it.” She answers, standing up to pick up a few leftover cartons, giving you a grin. “But I’ll keep the offer in mind in case I need to move again.”

“Open up one of the big ones while I put these away?” She says, already walking out to her front hall. You could’ve been seeing things but she might’ve been putting a bit more sway in her hips.

“Sure.” Your feet are already moving towards one of them. “Offers always up when you need it!”

And you’re back to the grind. Open, unpack, store.

Except she’s ramped everything up to eleven.

Intentionally bending over in front of you to show off her ass in those short shorts—you’re totally overthinking it when you thought you saw a small indent in her shorts—or giving you another look underneath her top; Her bra’s this dark blue that’s almost black—it’s a bra for fuck’s sake.

The small touches become more apparent. Less boxes, more space, no reason to take the long way and keep walking in front of you for a touch of your forearm instead of anywhere else.

And the looks she’s giving. The winks she’d send your way when she catches you glancing. The bite of her lip when she’s trying to force her way inside a box.

Now this isn’t just mere coincidence anymore.

It’s bothering you a lot; You feel like the air conditioner isn’t cold enough, you’ve been drinking a lot more water in between breaks alongside the snacks that Yuri’s kept feeding you with.

If this wasn’t paranoia, you don’t know what it is.

Then again, you agreed to this the moment she convinced you to help.

You walk back from her bathroom after placing down some medical supplies in one of the cabinets—You really need to have her sell some of her things—where you find her laying down on the floor, now clear of all the rainbow colored cartons save for one last box.

“Want some more water?” You ask, already heading to the kitchen, grabbing two glasses from her cupboard.

“Please.” She lazily throws an arm up towards you.

“Sit up.” You hold out her cup. “Or else I dunk you in it.”

You honestly could. Just shower her in water and soak that baggy shirt of hers, giving you an excuse to ogle her tits–

“Alright, alright.” She gets up to lean onto the sofa seats, grabbing the cup from your hands to take a sip. “Thanks.”

“It’s your house, I’m here to enjoy the free drink.” You sit down on a chair across from her.

“Always food with you.” She smiles underneath the cup. “Too bad you’re getting that story.”

“Speaking of which,” She continues, “Can you get the box from my bedroom? It should be by my desk.”

“Is it that box?” You put the cup down. “It’s that box isn’t it?”

“Are you actually scared of a box?” She giggles. “Yes, you dummy, it’s that box. Now go get it already. It’s important for the tea.”

“Do we really need it?”

“Of course we need it dummy.”

“Just–making sure.” You cough, clearing your throat before doing as she asks, nervous anticipation consuming your thoughts.

You shake your head. You really need to stop with these things.

She wouldn’t actually use them in front of you anyways.

So you distract yourself, focus on getting what you need, and get back to Yuri. It also gave you a chance to look around the place.

Her apartment started to look lived in, her shelves and cupboards full of items, the boxes all folded up and placed near her front door for recycling.

It looked a lot better than it was when you came in, that’s for sure.

You spot it immediately after coming inside her room. It was very her for the plushies to be used as a guitar stand alongside her many, many novels and right next to her keyboard standing near the desk.

Not even a day into living here and she’s already managed to make it into her own. Gotta give her props for that one.

Well, maybe not for some of her clothes still strewn about in her bed.

You can’t stare at it. You won’t. It’ll make you start thinking about what she’d look like in them. What she’d look like without them.

You booked it straight to the box—still black, still closed—your head staring at it, damn near putting holes in it as you walk out of the bedroom to avoid anything else except for the piece of carton in your hands.

Right into even more trouble.

The very first thing you noticed when you came back into her living room was her shorts on the floor.

The sounds registered after. The squelches, the moans, the gasps. All so low, so lewd, so incredibly fucking fucked hearing it all come from her.

You’re almost tempted to go back to her room and leave her be. Pretend you never saw anything, play the dummy that she always call you by.

But you look up, because what you’ve been imagining for so long is right in front of you and the devil in your shoulder is whispering all the dirty things that you’ve been wanting to do with Yuri. Do unto Yuri.

Everything.

And boy, was it a sight.

Yuri made herself comfortable on the couch, legs spread with a hand between her legs, blue-ish black panties that matched her bra pulled to the side with a small silvery object playing in her fingers rocking back and forth into her tight ass. Her other hand’s busy pinching a nipple, her shirt ridden up to her chest along with her bra.

She’s easing into the plug, teasing herself, the tip all wet and shiny from what you think is lube. You can see her tense up every time she pushes it in, mouth trying to bite a piece of her shirt to stifle her moans.

Didn’t really work, but the view.

Hips rocking with every thrust, the plug slowly disappearing into her, thighs shaking, muscles rippling. The hand on her tits hasn’t stopped pinching and squeezing. Everything about her looks so fuckable in all the ways you’ve thought extremely hard not to.

It almost made you drop the box, with the sound of saving it alerting Yuri to your presence.

“He-Hey.” She moans, pushing the entire thing deep, taking all of it into her ass before fixing up her panties. “You were taking too long.”

“I–” You start. Your mouth stays open for a good while, trying to think of something to say. You can’t.

Because you don’t exactly know what to say when someone’s fucking herself on a butt plug in front of you.

“You want-wanted to know about the toys right?” She says, letting the plug settle, hand pulling away from it to cup her tits. “C’mere and give me one.”

You follow, mouth still stuck in that perpetual curse of being unable to move as you sit down right next to her, box in hand.

The box moves from one pair to another. Yours to hers, where the flaps open once more to show her very bright collection of dildos, vibrators, and handcuffs.

Yuri’s planning something devious, or ambitious. Could be one, could be both. She hums, eyes looking through her box, tongue slipping out of her mouth to lick at her lips.

Definitely both.

“Pick a toy.” She asks you, face full of perverse mischief, hand roaming over her wares. “We can take turns choosing.”

You were completely still, stuck from earlier, mind processing; Embedding the image of Yuri playing with her ass into your head like a core memory of hers that you would never delete from your brain.

“Yuri–” You exhale, making her hum—purr, really, but who gives a shit at this point. “Are you seriously asking me to pick a fucking toy?”

“Duh. They’re all clean by the way, so touch all you want.” She answers, rolling her eyes, leaning back into the couch’s arm. Her shirt’s still ridden up, her breasts out in front of you, nipples hard from her earlier teasing. “Or do you want me to go first?”

She’s already reaching out to the black carton, decision made on what she’d be showing you—or using on herself—before you cut her off with yours.

“The dildo.” You say, one of your arms picking it up. It was the same one you first found when you opened it earlier. Red, large, and girthy, something that looked like it would fill her up all the way. “This one.”

You hand it over to her. It looked comically large in her hands, yet she’s all grins and giggles when she brings it closer to her mouth, tongue already lapping at the tip of it.

“Would you believe me when I say that this is the first one I bought?” She’s slobbering all over it, sucking on the first few inches of the toy, tongue flicking and licking to get it all wet and ready for her.

Her eyes are closing, moaning as she takes it deep, likely imagining that she’s throating a real cock. Yours is twitching at the thought of it being yours that she’s fucking her mouth with.

“This became one of my faves too.” She lets out, biting her lip as she lowers it down to her clothed pussy, rubbing it over herself. Her panties are stained from earlier, a wet darker patch of it in the middle. “Other than the vibrator, but I use both anyway–”

She cuts herself off with a strangled moan, her hips raising, arching as she presses the toy into that spot, rubbing it in, wetting it even more with the saliva that stuck to it.

Jesus Christ, is all you can manage to conjure up in your brain as you watch her edge herself with her favorite fucking strap. The thought of pulling her panties aside never seemed to cross her mind because she’s pushing it inside her to no avail.

“God, the things I did with this fucking thing–” She’s babbling, starting and stopping about how she’d always use it whenever, wherever, whoever.

“Fuck, I’d just use this to get off when I needed a good dicking–” It’s probably why she never goes out on dates even when everyone’s telling her to go on them. Who needs a boyfriend to satisfy her if she can do it herself anyway?

“Had to-god-to get the smaller ones cause I couldn’t walk in public with this.” That gets you thinking, pacing, recollecting every moment you’ve been with her if she had one stuffed inside of her pussy.

“Yena even borrowed one of them–” Now the vivid picture of Yuri and Yena sharing the red toy with each other, fucking each other with it, wondering how’d be on top, is painted inside of your mind. “And she still hasn’t given it back, the bitch–”

You might never look at Yena the same again with that.

All the while Yuri’s kept on going, hands never quite stopping with her metaphorical blue balling. Her underwear is completely soaked with her juices, even marking the couch with the damp spots underneath her.

“Fuck, Yuls–” Your cock’s been straining against your pants since she’s started, in dire need of relief from the confines of your clothes. One of your hands comes to undo the draws of your sweatpants to relieve the tension but you’d think the air can get you off at this point.

“Fuck me, huh?” Her tongue paints her lips before a question—a very dangerous one, you might add—comes out of her mouth. “Is that what you want?”

“God yes,” You confess, eyes roaming all over her. From her delectable thighs, her perky tits, her adorably sinful face; It’s all so ruinable. “Wanted you ever since–”

“The wedding?” She cuts you off.

“Even before that.”

“Tell me.”

So you do.

Tell her that it happened at that university reunion party you all attended. It was pretty memorable, considering that’s when Minju was officially announced ‘out of the market’.

Yuri was blonde then, wore this green dress that hugged her curves and showed her off in all the right places. That was the first time you ever saw her outside of baggy clothing or the tamer casual wear she has on.

It didn’t help that she stuck to you like glue for the majority of it all. You and her were making sure Yena didn’t do something stupid when she had a bit too much to drink.

You tell her how much you wanted to pull her into the bathroom and rail her against one of the stalls; You would hike her dress up and pull her underwear down and go to town on her pussy, not caring if anyone walked in and found out about it.

Watch her face morph into a state of euphoria as you give her a nice, thick load at the end of it. Steal her panties so she’s forced to go back out there glowing from the aftermath and dripping with your cum.

Her eyes are closed all throughout, hand lazily circling the dildo over her, clinging to every single word, and all the dirty things you wanted to do to her that day. It gets her even more riled up hearing you talk like that, judging from the way she’s pushing the toy harder through the cloth.

Then she grins, pulling at the fabric covering her cunt at the same time she pushes. Whether it’s to tease you or to pleasure herself, you can say both and you’d be rewarded, just like she’s doing to herself when she stops for a moment to hike up her legs and take off her panties.

It’s left dangling on one of her legs when she brings it back down and spreads them once more, wet pussy out in the open. You wet your own lips at the sight of it, wanting to put your cock in between her legs and feel how hot she would feel.

Even the butt plug is mocking you, the shine of it inside of her ass barely visible because of the grip that she has on it.

“You-you wanna know something funny?” Her eyes are locked into yours while her hands are back to playing with herself, grinding back on her toy. The lack of ruined underwear makes it even better for the both of you. “I had this plug on my ass that day. Fuck, I even had this on ever since we talked about moving in.”

You two were fucking hopeless.

She slides just the tip in, relieving all the built up tension she’s had for the past few whatever long time has passed and the moan she lets out sounded heavenly, the relief of everything crashing down on her.

“It was my first time too,” She continues, slouching down further into the couch to give you a better view of her ass, holes filled up with her toys. “Having it in me in public. I was so fucking horny that day that I probably would’ve let you fuck me in that bathroom–”

The red toy goes deeper inside of her, shutting herself up with her own actions. A whimper rings out, her thighs trembling with each thrust of the dildo into her drenched cunt.

“Wish th-this could be your cock–” She squeals, biting her lip to stop the perverse giggles that were trying to sing out of her. “You’d stretch me out so well–”

You couldn’t take it anymore. All the stories, the teasing, the view of Yuri fucking herself to the thought of you. You’re bursting at the seams, needing to chase your own pleasure this time.

So you stand up, a visible tent in your pants—she’s already eye-fucking it—and grab something different from her collection; A vibrator, all white with teal highlights because of course she has the classic one.

You turn it on, watch it whir for a moment before turning it off. You turn your head back towards her, still fixated on your pants, your cock, before you take a step. Her breath hitches.

Take another, and you stop to take your pants off. Quick, crass, it did the job to relieve your own stress as your length is freed from its confines. Yuri visibly shivers in excitement.

One more, and you’re cock-to-face with Yuri, her gaze finally looking up from one head to another.

“Holy shit.” It’s only two words, but those alone speak volumes. She reaches out, gripping you at the base, before she starts to lazily pump away at your shaft. “You’d ruin me for all my toys with this.”

“Would I?” You ask, moving to grope one of her tits. She felt so soft against your hand, so perfect. You needed to feel every inch of her, squeezing, pinching, tugging. Move from one breast to another, and you’re addicted. “All those toys, and I’d ruin you?”

“You fucking would.” She arches, hand between her legs moving faster, no rhyme or rhythm to it. Only a need to cum, and she didn’t care how she’d achieve that high. She pulls you closer, your cock resting on her face, the tip of her tongue having a small taste of you. “Because a real cock would feel so much more better.”

She starts kissing your cock, making out with the head, lips glued to you. Her tongue’s twirling and flicking and dousing you in her spit. She moans, the vibrations thrumming over you, making you clench your legs.

“Yuri, what the fuck–” You steady yourself by leaving her tits to grip her head, the other still holding onto her vibrator, waiting, begging to be used on her.

“This already beats out sucking on Glassy.” She even has a name for the damn thing, and it’s not even made of glass. “I can feel you throbbing.”

And you were, when she presses you back to her face. You are when she giggles, giving you pecks all over your length. And you still will be when she inevitably goes back to sucking your cock.

Her hands pump what she can’t put inside of her, wetting your shaft, surrounded by the hot feeling of her mouth that shakes you to your knees. She has the perfect grip on you, stroking you just fast enough to keep you aching for more.

You don’t know if she’s practiced on a dildo to suck somebody’s—your—dick. Not that it mattered if she did it for anyone else.

Because it’s Jo fucking Yuri that’s loving your cock right now, and that is a dream come true.

Her cheeks hollow, tightening her lips around you, just like yours hands are around her hair. It might’ve hurt her scalp. In reality it turned her on even more, bobbing her head quicker, taking more of you inside her mouth.

Then you remember: You’re holding onto one of her toys too.

A finger is pressed on a button, and it begins humming low, drowned out by her filthy fucking slurps. She’s too entranced with your cock to notice that you’ve brought it down to her chest, letting it massage one of her tits.

She hums, eyes closing, enjoying all the sensations she’s feeling. It’s all a fucking mess; From her sucking you off to fucking herself on Glassy. And she’s enjoying every single minute of it.

She mutters something; Too hard to understand with your cock in her mouth, too obsessed with your cock to let go of it. Girl can’t even bother to let her lips go off your head. So she speaks with her actions instead.

Her hand leaves the base of your shaft in favor of your forearm, resting there while you move the vibrator from one nub to another. Still set low, massaging her breasts slowly, pressing it into her.

Yuri even incentivizes it. She starts going at you faster, getting messier and messier with spit starting to drool down her chin. She keeps uttering indescribable things while she’s at it, and you can’t understand a single fucking thing.

“You know I can’t understand what you’re saying.” You pull at her hair, popping your cock out of her lips, now pouting at the loss of her new favorite toy.

“I was enjoying that.” She whines, trying to push herself back onto you, pulling your arm, anything to get you back. “You taste so good, I could just suck on you all day.”

“I’m not exactly part of your collection, Yuls.”

“Yeah you are.” She retorts, shaking her head at another attempt to escape your grasp. “I have Glassy, and you are Dummy.”

“Fucking–Seriously?” You’re in disbelief. Known each other for who knows how long and she suddenly treats you like an object. “I’m a toy to you now?”

“Of course not!” She grins, hand finally coming up from her legs with the sex toy. She’s waving it around, drenched in her juices, glistening in it. “I love each and every single one of them.”

The implications are damning, yet your lust-addled brain is too horny to comprehend that fact.

“So who’s this?” You ask, pressing the vibrator into her chest, watching her tits sink in. You so badly want to suck on them, make her cry out when you bite one of her nipples. But you save that for later.

Right now you have other priorities.

“Oh, Cherry?” She has a name for everything. “A friend got it for me when she went to Japan.”

The only one you knew that went to Japan recently was—

“You wouldn’t believe the stuff she has.” She grins, the hand on your arm pulling you downwards, to the dip of her breasts, to her midriff, and stopping just above her clit. “She’s crazier than me.”

“Having toys isn’t enough?” You push the vibrator, making sure to up the setting and make her thighs quiver. “Nothing’s crazier than that.”

“You-You’d be surprised.” She admits in the middle of her moans. “Cherry’s the real reason why I moved out.”

“Yeah?” You bring it lower, the head of it moving directly on top of her clit, and you repeat the same words she told you minutes prior.

“Tell me.”

So she does.

Tells you all about that time when she overheard Nako and Hitomi over the walls of her old bedroom. All the moans they were letting out. They were trying to hide it for Yuri too, when she says that they were a lot more muffled than usual.

She just got the toy you’re holding; ”All the way from Japan.” She comments, and was wanting—dying—to try it out.

“The hearing aid helped out a lot.”

She continues with how she used it in tandem with her other toys. Had it go in the same places you had it while she bounced on top of a dildo while she had another smaller one up her ass.

“I’ve always wanted to have this in my ass but it’s too fucking big–”

Her breathy moans sing out of her lips every few words, drawing her story out even more. Yet the pressure on her clit never really goes away, only being released for a short moment when she gets too lost in the pleasure to keep on talking.

She knows what you’re doing because she’s done the exact same thing to herself. All the words, the actions. It’s gotten to a point where the both of you are getting so close to losing all composure, yet you still want to carry on with this game.

So she carries on, giving you a play-by-play of what she did that night. It’s so detailed it makes your cock harder if that was even possible, made you leak pre-cum right there in front of her.

She’s eyeing it of course, has been since she’s started talking, still deprived of your cock in her mouth. She brings her hand back to your shaft, gripping you, jerking you slow. Another comes back to her pussy, her toy pushing back inside of her.

Her eyes meet yours, and the face she makes for you is extremely tempting; Tongue pushing into her cheek, eyebrows wagging, eyes full of perverse ideas.

A pull of her hair stops her, and with a whine or a whimper, she keeps on going.

She admits how she got a bit too noisy after a while, louder than the couple at the other side of her room. She didn’t stop even when they did, if anything it got her hornier at the thought that they knew about what she was doing.

All her thoughts about that night was how much she wanted to get in on the action between the two. Yuri’s heard them so many times and the one time they took her into consideration her libido was at an all time high.

“It wasn’t the first time, either.” Yuri giggles, confessing that she’s gotten off to the both of them so many times at this point. The realization that she got caught that night made her cum all over her bedsheets.

The morning after was awkward for the both of them, she says. How Nako had to sit her down and tell her to stop being so loud with what she was doing. But that only spurred Yuri on, knowing that Nako was listening in on her masturbating to said girl.

Her hands haven’t been idle; Stroking you faster, fucking herself deeper. Her clit’s being abused by the vibrator that you’ve constantly held there, and you can tell that she’s close to cumming her brains out.

She’s all twitchy, legs and arms and mouth just begging for you to turn it up to the max.

“You are just…” You pause, trying to find a single word in your limited dictionary of horny thoughts. A lot of words spring up to mind, but only one really fits the description of Jo Yuri in this very instance. “Such a slut.”

“Yeah?” She cackles, depraved, debauched, deafening. Her entire being is screaming it, and you are loving every second of it. “Cute innocent Yuri being such a closet perv, who would’ve known.”

“Be-Bet you didn’t think of that when you wanted to-to dick me down at that party.” She’s abandoned Glassy in favor of bracing herself to your arm, the shaking in her thighs intensifying as you turn the vibrator up a notch. “Like–Fuck, like you wanna do me right here on this couch.”

You want to confirm something. It’s been gnawing at you ever since she’s decided to ‘obtain’ you as part of her collection. And just as she was about to cum, you slow down.

“One more.” You press a button, and the humming dims.

“One-one what?” She can’t focus anymore, so you turn the toy down to low and watch her exhale in annoyance. “What the fu–I was so close!”

“One last toy you gotta tell me about.” You answer her, tugging her hair back and making her fall back down into the sofa. “Swear on my rank I’ll make you cum right after.”

She’s taking deep breaths, her entire body having these micro spasms, angry and disappointed at her orgasm being halted as well as urging her to finish the job herself. But she decides to indulge you.

“Fi-Fine.” She accepts, “Which toy?”

You reach down, yanking the toy out of her pussy, a guttural mewl spilling out of her followed by a yelp as you throw the vibrator away and pick her up by the waist. You take her place on the couch, ignoring the fact that there’s a giant damp spot where she sat—you’ll help her clean it up after—and manhandle her into your lap.

“This toy.” Your cock is pressed to her lips, dripping with need. You can feel the heat in her legs. “Tell me everything you want to do to me.”

Yuri takes a moment to regain her bearings. It doesn’t take long for those words to register in her head, and when it does, she looks you dead in the eye, and grins.

“Fucking perv.” She comments, grinding onto your lap, shirt up and thrown out of her frame somewhere into her apartment, her bra following soon after. You can feel the heat radiating off her legs and the cold plug in her ass. “Wanna hear me say how much I’ve wanted your dick?”

“I told you mine.” You slide a hand up to one of her tits. “Tell me yours.”

Her grin’s turned into this lewd smirk. Combine that with a bite of her lower lip, and you might as well forget about what you asked at this point.

“Remember that bachelorette party,” She’s edging herself with your cock now, toys all but forgotten. ”When you came to pick me up after we got in trouble with the club. That’s how long I’ve wanted you.”

She’s on a roll, going over all the times she’s gotten wet to the thought of you. The wedding, the after party, every night, to right fucking now. She hasn’t stopped rubbing her folds—like you haven’t been groping her tits—cock in between as she starts to lose herself one more time to the pleasure.

“Watching me fuck myself, having me suck your cock–” Her eyes are fluttering shut, the utter perversion of her words taking over the both of you, pouring gasoline into the already raging inferno of your libidos. “You could dick me down right fucking now and I’d thank you for it.”

Fuck it, you’ve heard, seen, and felt enough.

You grab her by the waist and lift her like she’s another damn box to unpack, and push into her in one smooth thrust. You’re both gasping at the sensation, her arms wrapping around your neck, yours around her hips.

“So much better than my toys.” She sighs out, finally getting what she wants. What you both want. “You’re fucking throbbing.”

“And you’re so fucking tight.” It’s unbelievable how true those words are, gripping you so snug every movement makes her squeeze you oh so harder. She’s had that dildo inside her for so long that it made fucking her all the more easier, and all the more better. You slither a hand down to have a feel of her ass, giving it a little pinch before you start to lift her up and down your length.

Her moans ring out in your ear alongside the kisses down your neck as you bounce her on your cock as if she’s your sex toy now. She’s not idle at all however, hands tugging your hair, her hips rolling in your palms, tits pressing up against your chest.

“S-Shit, you’re the best.” She gasps, needy pants airing out straight into your eardrums. “Don’t think I’ll ever go back to my toys after having this dick all to myself.”

“What makes you think I’m yours, Yuls–”

“Shut up, you fucking dummy.” She cuts you off, straightening up before bottoming herself down, taking your entire length. “Thought about this for weeks. Got myself off at the thought of riding you.”

“I know you’ve thought about it too.” You can barely understand a word, her pussy almost suffocating you. “Fucking told me all about it, you dummy. And now you’re mine.”

She starts doing the repetitively damning motion of lifting herself up and slamming herself down on your cock. She was slow, enjoying the way you fill her up, taking every single inch of you before she rides back up again.

Her hands are still on your shoulders, staring right into the face that’s enjoying every small bit of Yuri’s doing. Every hip roll, every squeeze, every bounce; It is everything and more that you’ve thought about with her, and you are craving to have more of it.

You snap your hips up just as she comes back down, giving her ass a squeeze. The gasp she lets out when you do add a slap to the same cheek is like getting hooked up on drugs.

“And what does that make you, huh–” You’re grabbing onto both ass cheeks, keeping her steady as you take back control, setting a rough pace that makes her leave scratch marks on your shoulders. You catch glimpses of the cool metal of her butt plug on your fingers, still fitted so snugly inside of her ass.

“Wh-What do you think?” She retorts amidst the cries of bliss that you’ve caused.

“Say it.” A hand creeps down to the metal, giving it a tug before placing it back in. The guttural moan that comes echoing into the room makes your cock throb harder inside her, as if it wasn’t already throbbing enough for her.

“N-No–” She’s lost all control of her body, surrendering it to the pleasure she’s feeling yet she’s still putting up a front to you. Pretending that she hasn’t when you both know she already has.

“Say it, you brat.” Another slap to her ass before the both of you pause.

Yuri stares. Gives you that look you’ve seen a million times by now. Her entire body’s sweating, hair matted to her face, even with the cool blow of the AC. The playful glint in her eyes that never seems to leave, and you can’t help but be lost in them for just a moment.

And utters two words. Two words that caused you to come right down to reality, and snap.

“Make me.”

Your grip moves to her waist, hard, enough to leave marks on them as you start to pound into her needy cunt, as if you want her to regret ever saying those words.

She won’t, and she never will. Doesn’t mean you won’t try.

“Oh my god–” Her hand braces itself onto her couch, absolutely ruined by what you two have done to it. “Give me more, fucking wreck me–”

You don’t stop. Make her perverse moans turn into desperate gasps in the air. Turn her body into mush in your hands as you do in fact, wreck her pussy for anything and anyone else.

Fuck her till she has tears in her eyes from how good she’s taking you. Until her toes go numb from all the curling. Until she can’t take it anymore. Until she begs.

“Say it.” It’s a mantra you’ve repeated all throughout. Everytime you fuck her so close to cumming before you stop, slow down, whatever it took to keep her from reaching that high.

And she’ll keep denying it. Keep saying all these different ways to tell you no and you’ll keep forcing it out of her. Keep fucking it out of her.

It’s a game. Some fucked up, depraved version of an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object. Neither of you want to lose, but the both of you oh so want to win.

So you start cheating.

Your mouth moves to her chest, taking in one of her nipples, twirling the nub over and under your tongue and giving it a messy suck. You can taste the sweat off of her, that surprised gasp ringing in your ear when you give her a bite.

“Yes, fuck–” She moans, hands wrapping around your neck, mixing through your hair as she leans further into your mouth, keeping you locked in her entire frame. You’re hammering into her harder, the couch protesting in silence at the stress it’s received today. “I’m so close, please, please–”

You murmur those two words, the repetition breaking her down, sending the vibrations straight into her chest with a swipe of your tongue over a bud before clamping back down to suck on her tit.

Your other hand isn’t idle, dipping down low between her legs, your hand getting a coating of her juices before you bring it back to her plug, using it against her. Pushing, pulling, teasing her tight, delectable ass.

You repeat those two words one last time, reveling in the fact that you’re ruining her for everything else, just like she said you would. Feel her legs start to tremble, waist start to shake, face start to get a rosy hue from all the teasing. All the fucking.

“Please, please keep going, I-I’ll say it, just–” She’s pleading, demanding, begging, for you to finish what you’ve started. “Just make me cum!”

“Swear it.” You’re making her work for it, pushing that plug all the way in to her ass, making her take every inch of the plug as you fuck her into her much needed orgasm.

You only need her to speak the words you’ve been wanting, no, needing to hear into existence, and you’ll give her what she wants. What her body is naturally telling her to do.

Yet she’s lost all manner of speaking, syllables coming out as broken moans because you’re not giving her a chance to rest. The heat of her pants brushes your face when she brings you up from her chest to meet her gaze. Yuri lets out this silly drunk chuckle, before her lips crash into yours.

It’s needy, it’s soft, it’s messy, it’s her. It’s a way of agreement, and you respond with fervor. Tongues meld, grips tighten around each other’s bodies, an urge to take everything this brat of a woman in your lap is giving you rising deep within your chest.

You accept it, all of it, and you return it in earnest by finally giving her what she wants.

You all but rip the buttplug out of her ass at the same time you bottom into her, and she’s reached that high she’s been denied for so long.

Yuri seizes up, abruptly pulling away from your lips as her jaw slackens, back arching as a silent scream is frozen on her features before she starts to shake, jerk, convulse everywhere. Her thighs, her chest, her pussy. She’s gushing, spilling herself all over your cock, the couch, the floor, and you’re left close to your own end.

Yet you pepper her neck with kisses, holding her as she trashes about on your lap. Give your entire focus on her, one of the most beautiful things you’ve seen, and the moans and whimpers that followed were so…fuck.

In that moment all you know is her, completely enraptured by the view of her being undone. Let her break, and watch her be remade. Her teary eyes return back to you, and she regains her bearings with a cup of your cheeks.

“Yeah,” She lets out a weak laugh, leaning in to press her forehead to yours. “Definitely the best.”

She leans in, pecking your lips. Then another, and another, until she’s showering you with them. She’s following it up with these giggles that sounded suspicious.

“Give you my spare key if you give me yours.” She whispers after leaving a kiss on your cheek. It’s a sign of an unspoken promise between you two. One you wholeheartedly agree to.

“If it’s an excuse to spend more time with you,” You reply, thumbs circling her hips. “Then it’s a deal.”

“Like you would say no after this.” Yuri laughs, before a flicker of realization crosses her face, followed by a short roll of her hip that makes your cock jump inside her. “You haven’t cum yet.”

“Close.” You groan, fingers tightening around her hips, head lolling to the sofa back. “Really close.”

“You gonna cum inside me?” You can see the perverted amusement twinkling in her eyes, lips turning into a smirk. “Make me swallow your thick cum? Maybe cum in my ass. You would, wouldn’t you, perv.”

“Christ, Yuri–”

“You’d cum on my face though, right?” She’s given you all these options but the brat’s already decided where you would cum. “Shut me up with that cock, make me choke on it, fuck my face till you burst–”

You’re not going to fall for it. Not gonna pull her off of you and get her down on her knees and cum all over her—the thought makes your cock twitch—when her pussy’s pulsing around your length, trying to milk you of your cum. You feel like you’d cum when you pull out anyway, and she would probably consider that a waste.

So you grab her hips and flip her on her back, pull her legs up to her chest, and give her another sloppy kiss. She moans into it, even as you shove your tongue down her throat just to get her to stop talking. You didn’t even realize that you'd placed your hand on her neck when you pull away.

“Just shut up and get fucked, Yuls.”

You give her throat a squeeze, firm enough to make her gasp, make her eyes blow out and this shit-eating grin forms as you slam into her, fast and rough, with no regard for her at all this time.

“That’s it.” She’s hooked her arms around her legs, keeping them upright for you, giving you all the leverage in the world to fuck her into the sofa. “Use me as your toy, make yourself cum. Fuck it all inside me, I’ll take it, I promise I’ll take all of it for you–”

“I said shut up.” You clamp down harder on her neck, feeling the vibrations of her gullet as she moans into every harsh thrust. Her walls are clenching around you, drowning you in her juices, making it so much easier to drive your hips down harder, urging you to flood her with your cum.

Yuri’s fucking you up with your eyes too. Her eyes are starting to roll back, jaw gaping in struggling sobs, perky tits swaying at every movement, a desire to slap the flesh stirring deep within you.

But you can’t. Not when you’re so close to filling her up with your cum. Your hips get punchier, unfocused. Keep hitting that spot that gets you dizzy from how tight and wet and amazing she feels, taking the hand out of her neck in favor of pressing down on her legs.

She’s almost folded in half, but she’s taking your cock so well, her wails burrowing the slaps of wet flesh against each other as she experiences another orgasm, and the last few thrusts makes your entire body tense up and you finally let go.

Every spurt felt larger than the last; Each rope of cum being unloaded deep inside her. The pleasure was immense, the feeling of filling her up seemed endless, giving her deep thrusts as if you wanted to fuck the cum deeper.

You don’t think you can ever go back to your hands after this.

You’ve collapsed on top of her, completely spent as you move your arms to rest on each side of her face, brushing a stray strand.

“So much…” She mutters, glassy eyes looking up at you, wrapping her arms around your nape. “It feels so good.”

Ditto, is all you can muster up, too tired to move a muscle. You can’t help but stare at her. The matted hair, the drool on her chin, the sweat of her skin, and she’s positively glowing after being wrecked.

She presses a kiss on your forehead, before dropping back down on the couch. “You’re helping me clean this up.”

“Anything for you, Yuls.” You blurt it out without thinking, and the giggle you hear makes you smile.

“Dummy.” She utters, giving you a small peck on the lips before pushing you up. “Come on, get up. I need to make dinner.”

“I thought I wouldn’t be getting free food anymore.” You chuckle, sliding yourself free from her. The both of you let out differing versions of disappointment in your mouths—hums, moans, whines, groans.

“I’m hungry.” Is all she needs to say. “But we both need a shower first.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“No.” She denies, pouts, thinks, then smiles. “Maybe after dinner.”

#jo yuri #jo yuri smut #yuri smut #kpop smut #izone smut

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the-shedevil-writes · 2 days ago

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A Night to Remember (Bob Floyd x Reader)

DESCRIPTION: When Phoenix sets Bob up on a blind date with one of her closest friends, he’s already nervous. So when he finds her to be the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, he’s convinced he’s out of his league. But as the night unfolds, he starts to realize they may work together better than he ever expected. WORD COUNT: 3.7k WARNINGS: Super fluffy. First date/Blind date! Reader is a big nerd- D&D and comics. Nervous Bob. Kissing. MY MASTERLIST - READ ON AO3!

Bob sat with his thigh anxiously bouncing in the booth at The Hard Deck. In a white polo tucked into a pair of black slacks, he held a small bouquet of daisies mixed with a few other light blue flowers. All at the advice of Phoenix, of course, who sat in front of him currently.

“You’re gonna be just fine.” She said, looking down at her phone to check. “I’m telling you, Bob. You’re gonna get along.”

When his pilot had come up to him, saying that she was setting him up, it was like she had experienced a stroke of genius and needed to experiment. She told him that she was setting him up with one of her close friends who had recently moved to San Diego. And that just made him all the more nervous. What if things didn’t work out, and now Phoenix felt awkward bringing her friend around? Or what if things didn’t work out, and now Phoenix felt weird around HIM?

Bob didn’t exactly have the most experience with dating. He took a girl to prom once and went on a date or two after enlisting, but nothing ever came out of it. Next thing he knew, he was 30 and he felt like he was falling behind all his friends who were either getting married or had at the very least a boatload of experience. This blind date felt like walking into a minefield.

“Do I look alright?” He asked with wide eyes

“You look like your usual dorky self.”

Then her phone chimed, and Bob’s head whipped over to it. Phoenix looked and nodded. “She’s here. I’m gonna walk her in then… It’s all up to you, bud.” She tapped the table excitedly as she got up.

“Don’t say that.” Bob groaned, nervous out of his goddamn mind.

As she left and walked out the front doors, he looked down at the flowers that he had gotten. According to Phoenix, she liked blues and pinks. But they didn’t have any pink flowers… He hoped they sufficed. He gently moved some of the flowers with bent stems and fixed the arrangement so nothing was falling out.

After a moment, he looked back up and saw Phoenix open the door for someone. Her. His jaw dropped slightly, and he suddenly understood why Phoenix refused to show pictures. If he had seen pictures, he would’ve believed it was some kind of prank. She was gorgeous. She wore a simple, white dress with a square neckline that fit snugly on her figure. Her hair was down, and it gently blew in the beach breeze, then settled as she walked inside. His eyes traveled down her legs to see the little red heels she wore.

Dear God, what was Phoenix thinking, setting her up with him? His entire face turned pink, and he had to force himself to manually breathe. He watched Phoenix point him out, and his date turned and smiled at him. Bob quickly scrambled to stand at her beautiful smile like he was called to attention. Should he walk to meet her? Should he wait by the table?

But she was already walking towards him.

“Bob?” Her sweet voice called out as she got close enough.

He nodded nervously. “Hi.” His own voice sounded like sandpaper in his head.

She smiled again. “I’m Y/n. Phoenix’s friend.” She looked him up and down with a small smirk, and it made his heart pound in his chest. Was that a good look? Or a bad look?

Bob put his hand out. His internal thoughts screamed at him that a handshake was entirely stupid, but she took it excitedly. Then he remembered what was in his other hand.

“These are for you.” He said with his typical crooked smile, and he held out the flowers.

She gasped and her face lit up like a Christmas tree. He silently prayed a thank you to Phoenix. Taking the flowers in her hands, they complemented her perfectly.

“Thank you so much. I’ve never gotten flowers on a first date. That’s so thoughtful.” She said

“Well, Phoenix helped me pick out which ones you might like.” He admitted. It felt like a dumb move to say that, but he kept to his guns. “Wanna- wanna sit down?”

She nodded and looked over at the booth before sitting down. Bob followed to sit across from her. Then he quickly realized-

“Wait! Uh- would you like a drink?” He asked

“Oh. A water would be nice.” She smiled

“Got it.” He nodded before awkwardly scooching back out of the booth.

When he made it to the bar, he was practically hyperventilating. There sat Phoenix, who watched him with a smug smirk. Bob got the attention of Penny first. He didn’t wanna make it seem like an excuse to talk to Phoenix. Maybe he was overthinking all of this.

“Hi. Can I get a water and a Diet Coke? Actually, make that a water and two Diet Cokes. Please.” Bob said. He figured he might as well get her something just in case.

Phoenix’s laugh finally brought his attention to her.

“You look like you’re gonna pass out, Floyd.”

His eyes widened at her. “What were you thinking? My first date in years, and you set me up with a girl I have no chance with?” He asked quietly through gritted teeth.

She rolled her eyes. “Just. Talk to her. You’ll see.”

Penny slid over the two Cokes and the water glass. He quickly scooped them up and walked back over to the table, looking back at Phoenix nervously.

Y/n looked up at him with eager eyes as he sat back down.

“You like Diet Coke?” She teased him about having two.

He chuckled nervously and slid into the booth again. “I do, but the other one’s for you in case you wanted something other than water.”

She smiled. “Thank you. You’re sweet.”

The words were so simple, yet his face turned a bright shade of pink.

She took a sip of her water, very obviously eyeing him up and down again with a small smile around her straw. After she swallowed, she started:

“So you’re Phoenix’s WSO?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I backseat for her. She’s great. Uh- she tells me that you’re her friend from school?”

“Mhm! We’ve been close friends since elementary school. All through high school, too. But then she enlisted, and I went to college. It’s been nice seeing her again.”

“What did you study?” He asked curiously. The small talk didn’t feel as painful as he had anticipated a blind date would be. She felt easy to talk to.

“Aeronautical Engineering.” She explained, “That’s why I moved here. Got a gig being a mechanic.”

Bob’s heart stopped slightly. She engineered planes- his first and greatest love. And that had to mean she was incredibly smart. Not that that surprised him. She held herself like she was.

“Wow. That’s- that’s awesome. We really owe you guys more appreciation. We get to fly cause you guys do all the math.” He said genuinely.

“I like you, Bob. You don’t gotta say all that.” She joked.

His face blushed harder, and his eyes widened. “No! No- I really mean it. It’s true. I couldn’t do what you do.”

She laughed at his nervousness and leaned forward to push his shoulder. “I’m just giving you a hard time.” She took another sip of her water and put her elbows on the table. “So, Bob, what do you like to do, other than boss Phoenix around?”

He looked down at his hands with a tight chuckle. He knew he should tell the truth. There would be no point in lying and acting like he was much cooler than he was. The conversation was going so well so far… but he felt like he could screw it up here. He didn’t hit the gym or go partying on the weekends. He spent most of his time alone.

“Well, uh- I come here every Friday with the squadron and that’s pretty fun.” He started to clarify that he wasn’t a complete loner, “I hike sometimes. But honestly, I play a lot of video games. Like… a lot of video games.”

It didn’t feel like a special answer. He didn’t feel interesting in any sense of the word. But he watched as her eyes brightened.

“What games?” She jumped to ask.

“Oh uh-” He couldn’t help his stammering, “I collect a lot of retro stuff. Mostly games for the Atari. Pac-Man, Galaga, that sorta thing. But I also play the usual Call of Duty, Battlefield, Counter Strike…” He felt like he was talking too much. Well, it was more than what he’d usually say on a Friday night with the squadron, at least.

“Oh goodness, I’m so bad at FPSs.” She giggled, shaking her head, “But that’s so cool that you collect all that!”

What. He swallowed and tilted his head, almost confused. She found that… cool?

She continued. “There was one summer where I spent every weekend trying to get myself on the scoreboard of the Frogger machine at the movie theater. Phoenix wanted to kill me.” She chuckled.

“Did you?”

“Third place. Still pisses me off that I couldn’t get higher.” She said lightheartedly.

“We’ll have to play it on mine sometime so you can beat my score.” The words had slipped out so easily. An implication that he wanted to see her again. He blinked, hoping it wasn’t too forward.

But instead of seeming weirded out, she nodded excitedly. “Yes! That’d be so fun.”

Bob smiled and let out a relieved sigh. This was going so much better than he assumed it would. By this point, he figured he’d screw it all up. He cleared his throat.

“What do you like to do besides fixing planes?”

She blushed and looked down at her drink. “It’s a bit embarrassing.”

“I just told you I spent my weekends playing Pac-Man.”

With a small laugh, she shrugged.

“Well, I’m a bit of a nerd. I collect comics and love superhero movies. I could talk your ear off about them. Also… god this is so dorky.” She started with a bashful smile, “I like playing D&D. So sometimes when there’s a campaign going on, I’ll spend my Saturday night doing that.”

“Like dungeons and dragons?” Bob asked

She nodded. “I know it’s totally nerdy, but it’s so much fun. Have you played?”

He blinked hard and shook his head with a smile. “No, but I’d like to.”

She just… completely and utterly out-nerded him. He looked over at Phoenix at the bar, who nodded at him like ‘I told you so’. This felt too perfect. Too good to be true.

Forty-five minutes later, they were both laughing in the booth. Bob didn’t want to say that he was surprised by how funny she was. But he didn’t expect to be laughing so hard that he had tears in his eyes. She was just so unapologetically herself, and that came with witty phrasing and side jokes that punched hard. After their laughter subsided, he looked at her, and it just slipped out:

“Do you wanna go for a walk?”

He didn’t want the date to end with just some colas at Hard Deck.

“I’d love to.” She smiled, “Haven’t gotten to see the beach much.”

He nodded and stood up from the table. After he gestured for her to go first, she walked toward the door. They both noticed the raised brow and glare that Phoenix sent their way.

“We’re going for a walk!” Y/n waved excitedly at her.

Phoenix smiled at that, seeming relieved that she wasn’t going home with him. Bob would never. He knew that taking a girl home on the first date was pretty normal these days, and he didn’t judge anybody who did. But his mother raised him to never do that. She’d probably kill him if he ever did. Knowing her, he didn’t want to test that.

“Have fun. I’m heading home.” Phoenix said as she signed her bar tab. “I’m trusting her with you, Floyd. If you do anything stupid, remember who’s controlling the jet you’re in tomorrow.”

Bob swallowed and nodded. He wouldn’t dare. But also the threat of Phoenix doing everything in her power to make him vomit in his lap was a genuine one.

“You got it.”

Then they walked out the door.

The night beach breeze hit, and her hair swayed softly. Lit by the warm lights pouring from inside the bar, she looked gorgeous in the night time. He wished that he could photograph her. The light hit her perfectly, and the shadows enhanced her features. His confidence felt strengthened from the success of the earlier conversation/

“You look really pretty tonight.” He choked out. “I-I should’ve said it earlier, but I was so nervous. Still so.”

She froze, looking up at him with an almost shocked expression.

“Thank you.” She said, and for the first time that night, she was the one blushing and not him. It felt good to make her suddenly shy. It reassured him that… maybe she could like him too.

Looking down at the ground, she suddenly reached out her hand. Bob looked at it and his head picked up with a small inhale. Quickly, he wiped his hands on his slacks, hoping they weren’t too sweaty. He walked forward and took her hand in his. His hand dwarfed hers just ever so slightly.

Fingers intertwined, they walked towards the beach. Suddenly, he was hyperaware of every function in his body. How sweaty his hands were. How his heart was thrumming in his chest. How his breath kept getting stuck in his lungs. And he was also very well aware of how her hand felt in his. There were small callouses that matched his- no doubt both from their lines of work.

When they reached the sand, he stepped forward in his dress shoes. But when Y/n stepped forward, her heels sank into the sand with a little ‘Oh!’ She wobbled unsteadily, and Bob quickly grabbed onto her waist to steady her. After she gained her balance again, she looked up at him. His arm was wrapped around her, and they both took in each other’s shocked faces. Until she started to laugh, and he joined softly with her.

“We can stick to the sidewalk.” He said, “I don’t wanna get your nice shoes all sandy.”

He gently moved them back to the sidewalk. She giggled and kicked her feet, letting sand pour out from her shoes.

“It’s a little too late for that.”

His eyes widened, looking down at her red heels that were now covered in an opaque sheen of dust. “I’m sorry-”

“No, no! It wasn’t your fault.” She laughed, “Come on, I’ve barely seen the beach yet.”

The starry night sky blanketed them as they started walking again, hand in hand. He tried to look around and not stare holes into her, but he also wanted little glimpses of her every now and then. The soothing rush of the ocean waves nearby hushed over them. The night was peaceful as they were the only two people on the beach. It felt like they could be the only two people in the world.

“Some weekends, the squadron all comes here, and we’ll spend the whole day just playing football.” Bob said softly, “Phoenix is really good.”

“That sounds so fun.” She said, “There aren’t exactly beaches back in Alabama. So it’s strange to be so close. Like on the drive to work, the ocean is just there.”

“It’s nice. It’s really nice.”

There was a gentle silence, and Bob wanted to keep talking, but then he couldn’t figure out how to continue the conversation. Luckily, the tension didn’t feel awkward. It just felt… different.

They walked near one of the small cliffs, and she looked to him with a thrilling look in her eyes. “Wanna go up?”

Bob nodded, “I think there are stairs. ”

Making their way around the other side, sure enough, there were wooden stairs embedded into the side of the small mountain. She climbed up first, and Bob drifted his eyes away to make sure he wasn’t looking up her dress.

Once they got to the top, the breeze was slightly stronger. And she turned back to face him as he made his way up, her hair blowing with a small smile. After a brief heart attack for Bob, she looked away and looked out to the ocean.

“It’s so pretty.”

He nodded and joined her at her side. “You should see it in the day. Or even better, in a jet. It’s great. You can see the whole stretch of beach, and the ocean goes so far back. It’s insane.”

She smiled. “Is it fun? Being able to fly?”

“Wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t.” He answered with his hands in his back pockets, taking in the view. “Though there’s the downsides. Like possibly dying.”

“You better not.” She lightly threatened with a raised brow. “I’d like another date.”

Bob’s head whipped over to look at her. Sure, he had mentioned playing Frogger earlier, but now she was initiating the idea of another date.

She giggled at his reaction and shook her head as she looked back out at the view.

“What? Are you surprised? Didn’t think this date was going badly… but if you think so-” She teased

“NO!” He practically leaped forward to hold her hand again. “No.”

She laughed and shoved his shoulder playfully again. “You’re cute.”

“I think this date is going great. Better than I thought. NOT THAT I THOUGHT IT WAS GONNA BE BAD JUST-” Bob stammered.

Her little teases had him completely flustered and off his game. And with her looking at him expectantly with a raised brow, he couldn’t help the nervous laughter that escaped him.

“I was scared that I was gonna mess everything up. If I’m not doing that right now.” He explained.

She took his hand and moved it to her waist, stepping closer.

“You’re doing just fine.” She reassured, looking up at him and putting her arms on his shoulders. “You should know that…” She leaned into his ear, “I was nervous, too.”

“No way.” He scoffed, naturally wrapping his arms around her waist now.

She nodded. “Uh huh! Phoenix showed me your photo, and I thought you were so cute.”

He looked away, unbelieving. A perfect girl like her being nervous around… Bob Floyd? That felt simply impossible. But when he turned back to face her, she was looking up at him in a way that was almost… antsy. She took a deep breath, and her eyes had an anxious glint in them.

Her hair blew in her face, but before she could fix it herself, Bob took his hand off her waist and gently brushed her hair behind her ear. Now he could properly see her pretty face, and he didn’t want to stop.

“Phoenix didn’t even show me a photo…” He admitted, “I think she thought that if I saw how… beautiful you are, I’d be too scared to do this.”

“Still scared?” She asked, coming a little closer.

He chuckled breathlessly, “Terrified.”

They both laughed, and it just happened naturally. Their faces leaned in closer to each other. She moved one of her hands from his neck to cup his cheek and pressed her lips to his. He sighed, completely relieved. It felt like if he didn’t keep himself in check, his legs would give out. He deeply inhaled her vanilla perfume, and she tasted like the Coca-Cola from earlier. The kiss deepened, and he pulled her as close as he could without completely squeezing her. When he felt her nails travel up the back of his head, he was done for.

She pulled back softly, and he looked down at her.

“Jesus Christ-” He murmured breathlessly.

Now that made her laugh. She leaned in again, and right before his lips, she said

“You’re telling me.”

They kissed again, and Bob wished he could do this forever.

They stayed out much later than they should’ve. Just walking, looking at the beach, talking, and of course, kissing each other every chance they got. A little past midnight, Bob walked her to her car. A small white sedan that was still parked at The Hard Deck.

“You okay to drive? It’s late.” He offered, standing by her door.

She nodded. “I’ll be okay. I know you gotta get up soon.”

There was a small silence, then she added.

“I’d love to do this again.” She said softly. A tilt of hope in her voice.

Bob smiled. “Me too… Phoenix gave me your number. We can schedule a day to play Frogger.” He had never found it so easy to talk to someone before.

“That’d be great. I’ll see you then.” She said.

He opened the driver's door for her, and that brought a smile to her face. She walked up to him and kissed his cheek before getting in.

Smack happy, he shut the door for her and waved her goodbye. As she drove off, he slowly trailed his way to his truck. He flipped the keys in his hand with a goofy smile on his face. It was like a high he’d never experienced before. The most beautiful, smart, and fun girl he’d ever met… wanted to do this again sometime.

He couldn’t help but punch the air with a dorky ‘Yes!’ once her car disappeared. He quickly grabbed his phone from his pocket to see a notification from Phoenix.

PHOENIX: So how’d it go?

Unlocking his truck, he texted back.

BOB: Holy. Shit. I owe you for life.

PHOENIX: I told you, dumbass.

Once he got in the truck and shut the door, he opened his phone again. He found the number that Phoenix had sent him earlier and sent a text.

BOB: This is Bob Floyd- Text me when you get home safe. Had a great time tonight.

He was practically vibrating in his seat as he turned his phone off and started to drive home. His thigh bounced in his seat again. But instead of anxiety, it was out of sheer adrenaline.

His phone burned in his pocket. But he’d later see the message

Y/N: Home safe. Thanks for the best date I’ve ever been on.

And he’d be too wired to go to sleep.

#top gun maverick #top gun maverick fic #top gun #lewis pullman #lewis pullman fic #bob floyd #robert floyd fic #robert floyd #bob floyd fic #bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd fanfic #top gun x reader #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you

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jkwrites-m · 2 days ago

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Daddy Kookie (2)

Pairing: idol!Jungkook x female reader

Genre: childhood lovers to exes to lovers, parents au, idol au, smut, angst, fluff

Word Count: 6.4k

Summary: After Jungkook dropped all contact, Y/N was left broken - and pregnant. Seven years later, fate brings them back together.

Warnings: MDNI, Explicit, 18+, smut, angst, abandonment, young (teenage) pregnancy, unintentional parental neglect, resentment, fighting, boundaries, guilt, burnout, anxiety, confessions, reunions, slapping, anger, heartbreak, cursing, struggle, explicit: PRAISING, kissing, missionary, tension, pillow talk, unprotected sex

A/N: here’s what was originally the ending of part one but for some reason i can’t post that many blocks 😒 so here’s the “part 2”.

MASTERPOST ♡ MASTERLIST

prev ♡ next

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I found Namjoon in the hotel gym that night.

He was alone, earbuds in, pacing the far side of the room with a water bottle tucked under one arm, muttering rehearsal notes to himself like he always did before a show. I stood in the doorway for a solid minute before I said anything.

He saw me in the mirror first.

Pulled out one earbud.

“You alright?” he asked.

“No.”

He nodded once and didn’t press me.

Just set down his bottle and motioned toward the bench press like, sit.

I sat.

And for a while, neither of us said a word.

“I met with her this morning,” I said finally, my voice rough from not speaking since the show.

Namjoon didn’t ask who.

He just waited.

“I asked for an hour. She gave me exactly that.”

I rubbed my hands together. My legs were bouncing, and I couldn’t stop.

“I thought I was ready to see her. But I wasn’t.”

Still, Namjoon said nothing.

“She has a daughter.”

His brows lifted just slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.

“She’s mine,” I added. “Her name is Eun Ae.”

That got him.

Namjoon blinked slowly and sat down on the bench across from me. “You’re a dad?”

I nodded. “I didn’t know. I- God, hyung, I blocked her. She tried to tell me and I just… I disappeared.”

He sighed but didn’t scold me.

I think that made it worse.

“She raised her alone,” I said. “Worked. Went to school. Everything. No help. And I was here, living my dream while she was raising my kid and barely surviving.”

“You didn’t know,” Namjoon said carefully.

“I should’ve.”

“That’s true.”

I buried my face in my hands. “She’s giving me one chance. Tomorrow. At the zoo. I get to meet her - meet my daughter - for the first time and I don’t even know how to breathe around the thought of it.”

He let me sit in the silence for a beat.

Then: “What are you most scared of?”

“That she’ll hate me.”

Namjoon’s gaze softened.

“That she’ll ask me where I’ve been,” I whispered, “and I won’t know how to answer.”

“You don’t have to have all the answers,” he said. “You just have to show up. That’s what matters now.”

“I want to be in her life,” I said. “I want to earn it. I want to be someone she can count on. Not someone she has to recover from.”

Namjoon nodded slowly. “That’s a good place to start.”

“And Y/N…” My voice cracked. “I still love her.”

“I know.”

“I don’t expect her to forgive me. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But I want her to see that I’m not the same kid who left.”

“You’re not,” he said.

I looked up at him. “What if I ruin it again?”

“Then you don’t,” Namjoon said. “You show up. You listen. You apologize. You be present. And if they don’t let you in, you keep showing up until they do- or until they tell you to stop. Either way, you stay honest.”

I nodded, swallowing hard.

“Thanks, hyung.”

He gave a tired smile. “Get some sleep. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

I didn’t sleep much.

But I dreamed of a little girl with my eyes.

And Y/N beside her.

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It was her idea to wear her tiger hoodie.

“Because we’re going to the zoo,” she said, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

I tied her shoelaces twice- her feet wouldn’t stop bouncing- then stood up and stared at her for a moment too long.

“Mama?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you nervous?”

A pause.

“No,” I said. “I’m just thinking.”

It wasn’t a lie. I was thinking. About everything.

About how I swore he’d never meet her. About how easily I’d broken that rule yesterday. About how I’d watched his hands tremble when I said the word daughter.

He didn’t cry, not fully.

But he looked like someone who had finally understood what it meant to break something that couldn’t be fixed.

I kept that image close as I buckled her into her booster seat and drove to the zoo.

He was already waiting by the entrance.

Sunglasses. Mask. Hoodie. Head tucked down.

It should’ve made him look anonymous.

It didn’t.

Even behind all that, he looked unmistakably like him.

And when Eun Ae saw him, she didn’t pause.

She ran.

Full-speed. Straight up to him like she’d known him her whole life.

“Hi!” she chirped. “I’m Eun Ae. Are you the friend Mama said we’re meeting?”

He knelt down slowly.

I watched his fingers shake as he pulled the mask down from his face.

“Yeah,” he said, voice cracking. “I’m… I’m Jungkook.”

“That’s a funny name,” she giggled. “Can I call you Mr. Kookie?”

He let out a short, stunned laugh.

“Sure,” he said, clearing his throat. “You can call me that.”

She grabbed his hand like it was nothing. Like it was normal.

Like this hadn’t been six years coming.

I followed a few steps behind them, unsure what to do with my arms, my heart, my breath.

They moved together easily.

Too easily.

He matched her pace. Let her pick which exhibits to visit. Lifted her onto his shoulders to see the giraffes. Bought her a pretzel and wiped the cheese off her face without hesitation. They laughed at the same things. Tilted their heads the same way when they were curious. Chewed the straw of their drinks when they were thinking.

They were mirrors.

And I was the frame- holding it all together, barely.

At the tiger enclosure, Eun Ae pressed her palms to the glass and gasped.

“They’re so cool!” she shouted. “I want one!”

“They’re a little big for a pet,” Jungkook said, crouching next to her.

“I’d teach it tricks.”

“I bet you would.”

There was a pause. Then she asked the question I’d been dreading.

“Did you know my mom when she was my age?”

Jungkook blinked.

I tensed.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I did.”

“Was she weird like me?”

“She was perfect,” he said. “Exactly like you.”

She grinned. “So… super weird?”

He laughed, and I heard something in it that sounded like mourning.

Later, while she climbed a small jungle gym near the café, I sat beside him on the bench.

He didn’t speak at first.

Just watched her, eyes full of things I didn’t want to name.

“She’s incredible,” he whispered.

“I know.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“You already said that.”

“I’ll say it again,” he said. “As many times as you need.”

We sat in silence for a long time.

Then I heard my voice say something I hadn’t planned.

“You’re good with her.”

He turned to me, surprised.

“She doesn’t know who you are,” I added. “But she likes you.”

“I’m glad.”

“She’s never had… that. A male figure. Anyone to play like that with.”

He looked away. “That’s my fault.”

I didn’t correct him.

He reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled something out.

A little stuffed tiger.

“I bought this on the way here,” he said, holding it up. “I didn’t know if I’d get to give it to her.”

She ran back to us just then, sweaty and smiling.

Jungkook knelt again and held out the tiger.

“For you.”

Her eyes lit up.

“Thanks, Mr. Kookie!”

She hugged him. No hesitation.

He closed his eyes like the moment hurt in a way he needed.

═══════

That night, after Eun Ae was tucked into bed, I sat on the couch with a blanket around my shoulders and my phone pressed to my ear.

The apartment was quiet.

Too quiet.

Like the kind of quiet that presses in on your skin and makes your thoughts louder than they should be.

“She hugged him,” I whispered.

My best friend on the other end of the line didn’t speak. She waited. She always did.

“She hugged him like she’d known him her whole life. Like he hadn’t missed anything. Like he hadn’t disappeared.”

I wiped under my eyes with the edge of my sleeve.

“And he was… good with her. Gentle. Patient. Funny. Like he’d been waiting his whole life to meet her. Like he already loved her.”

“You sound surprised,” my friend said.

“I am,” I confessed. “I don’t want to be. But I am.”

There was a pause.

“You still love him,” she said.

I closed my eyes.

“Don’t,” I said softly. “Please.”

“Y/N-”

“I can’t afford to love him,” I whispered. “Not again. Not after what he did.”

The words came out raw and wet and cracked.

“I spent years hating him,” I said. “Years trying to forget the way he looked at me, the way he kissed me, the way he made me believe in things that never came true. And today, I watched him hold our daughter’s hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, and I…This could’ve been real. This life. This moment. All of it. If he had just… stayed.”

I swallowed the sob that threatened.

“I didn’t feel anger. I didn’t feel hate. I felt… sad. And full. And furious. And terrified. All at once.”

“You’re allowed to feel all of that.”

“I know. But it doesn’t make it easier.”

She didn’t say anything for a while.

Then: “Do you think he still loves you?”

I laughed. Quiet and bitter. “He says he does.”

“And do you believe him?”

I looked out the window. The city lights blinked back like stars caught in a snow globe.

“I believe he thinks he does,” I said. “But I don’t know if he loves me- who I am now. Not the girl he left behind.”

“You don’t have to decide anything now.”

“I don’t want to decide anything,” I said. “I just want to breathe again.”

I hung up after that.

Tucked my phone under the blanket and rested my head on the arm of the couch. My eyes closed. My chest ached. I felt heavy and hollow and full of fire all at the same time.

And then I heard it.

A shuffle.

A creak of the hallway floorboard.

I turned.

Jungkook stood there, just outside the door frame, his hand against the wall like he needed it to hold himself up.

He hadn’t knocked.

He hadn’t said a word.

He just looked at me like he’d walked straight into the center of a storm he hadn’t seen coming.

“You heard all that,” I said, my voice flat.

He didn’t deny it.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said quietly. “I was bringing back the little drawing she made. She left it in my jacket pocket. I was going to knock. I just… heard you.”

I sat up slowly.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know.”

He didn’t budge.

“Y/N,” he said softly, voice shaking. “I love you. Not just the girl I left. Not some idea. You. Right now. All of it.”

And then he crossed the room.

Without another word, he bent down and kissed me.

Soft and sure and shaking all at once.

And for one second - just one - I kissed him back.

It was like breathing again for the first time in years. Like lightning. Like a heartbeat I didn’t know I missed.

But then I pulled back.

And I slapped him.

Hard.

He didn’t even flinch.

“You can’t just do that,” I said, my voice rising. “You don’t get to walk in here, say I love you, and kiss me like it erases what you did.”

“I know,” he said, eyes shining. “I know it doesn’t fix anything. I just needed you to know it’s real.”

A long silence stretched between us.

He finally set the folded piece of paper on the table.

It was a crayon drawing. Stick figures. A tiger. The word “KOOKIE” spelled backwards across the top.

“I’ll go,” he said, stepping back. “But… thank you. For today.”

He turned and walked out before I could say a word.

And I sat there, hands shaking, heart a mess, trying not to chase after him.

Because no matter how much I wanted to…

I didn’t know if I could survive loving him again.

═══════

I didn’t mean to kiss her.

I meant to leave.

I meant to say those words and walk away like a man who’d learned his lesson. Who knew better now.

But when I looked at her- sitting on that couch, eyes full of grief and strength- I forgot what I was supposed to do.

And when her lips touched mine back… for that brief, burning second, I thought maybe I wasn’t too late.

But then she slapped me.

And she was right to.

I walked out shortly after. The drawing Eun Ae made was still on the table. The door shut behind me like punctuation on a sentence I’d rewritten too many times in my head.

I didn’t go to my room.

I went to Namjoon’s.

He was still up, writing in a leather-bound notebook like always. When he opened the door and saw my face, he didn’t ask. Just moved aside to let me in.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my hands gripping the hem of my hoodie.

“She still hates me,” I said.

Namjoon didn’t reply. Just waited.

“I heard her talking to someone. On the phone. After the zoo.” I exhaled shakily. “She said it could’ve been real. The life. The moment. If I had just stayed.”

My voice cracked.

“She’s right,” I said. “It could’ve been. I destroyed everything.”

Namjoon sat in the chair across from me, elbows on his knees. “You didn’t destroy everything.”

“I kissed her,” I admitted.

That got a raised eyebrow.

“She kissed me back. For a second. Then she slapped me.”

Namjoon didn’t flinch. “You probably deserved it.”

“I definitely deserved it.”

I leaned forward, elbows on my thighs, head in my hands.

“She thinks I’m just showing up now because of Eun Ae. But it’s not that. I was going to try before I even knew. I swear. I just… I still love her. That never went away.”

“I know,” Namjoon said. “We all do.”

“She said she doesn’t know if I love who she is now. Not the girl I left behind.”

“Do you?”

“Yes,” I said immediately. “She’s stronger. Sharper. She’s everything I wish I’d grown up fast enough to deserve.”

Namjoon nodded slowly.

“Then show her,” he said. “Not with words. You’ve said enough. Do something.”

“Like what?”

“Think,” he said. “What did she love? What mattered to her?”

I blinked.

“Wildflowers,” I said. “She always picked the ugly ones growing out of sidewalk cracks. Said they were survivors.”

Namjoon smiled. “Then that’s where you start.”

I nodded, a lump forming in my throat.

“I’m going to show up,” I said. “Every day. Until she tells me not to. Or until she believes me.”

“Good,” Namjoon said. “And Jungkook?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not a piece of shit. You were a scared kid who made a selfish mistake. Now you’re a man who has to own it.”

I nodded again.

I wasn’t running anymore.

Tomorrow, I’d bring her flowers.

Not roses.

Not something expensive or flashy.

Just wildflowers.

The ones that survive.

═══════

He didn’t text the next morning.

Didn’t call.

Didn’t knock.

But when I opened the door to take out the trash, there was a bouquet of wildflowers on the step.

No note.

No explanation.

Just color.

Simple and honest.

I stared at them for a long time before I brought them inside.

I didn’t put them in a vase.

Not yet.

Eun Ae noticed them instantly.

“Oooh, are those for you?”

“Yeah,” I said, almost under my breath.

“From Mr. Kookie?”

I froze.

She giggled. “He smells like sunshine.”

I blinked. “What?”

“His hoodie. It smelled like sunshine. And gum.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

She took one of the smaller stems from the bouquet and tucked it behind my ear before skipping off to play.

═══════

The next day, he didn’t bring flowers.

He brought her a book.

One of those thick picture books with a glittery cover and a dragon on the front. She shrieked like she’d won the lottery. He handed it to her without a word and let her read to him, even though she kept skipping pages and making up half the story.

He didn’t flinch.

Didn’t correct her.

He just smiled like it was the best thing he’d ever heard.

I watched from the kitchen, trying not to feel anything.

Trying to stay steady.

Trying not to remember the way his hand had felt on my cheek when he kissed me.

And the sting of my own palm after.

═══════

The third day, he showed up with both- flowers for me, a new stuffed animal (a bunny this time) for her, and takeout from my favorite noodle place.

He didn’t ask to stay.

Just handed it over, bowed, and walked away.

I didn’t stop him.

But I didn’t close the door right away either.

═══════

The fourth day, he didn’t come.

And I hated how I noticed.

How the absence felt like a missing rhythm in my day. A skipped beat.

I told myself it was good. Smart. Necessary.

That space was healthy.

But then he texted.

Jungkook: Didn’t want to crowd you today. Just… wanted you to know I’m here.

I didn’t reply.

But I stared at that message for a long time.

═══════

The fifth day, he came by again. This time he asked if we wanted to go for ice cream.

Eun Ae screamed like he’d asked her to Disneyland.

I tried to say no.

I did.

But my mouth betrayed me.

“Okay,” I said. “Just an hour.”

He didn’t smile like he won.

He smiled like it hurt to be that grateful.

We walked to the corner shop with her bouncing between us. He let her pick his flavor. She made him get bubblegum. He pretended to like it. I knew he didn’t.

He caught me watching him.

And didn’t look away.

That night, after she was in bed, I sat on the same couch, stared at the same wall, and whispered into the dark:

“I don’t know if I’m ready.”

And I meant it.

I wasn’t ready.

Not yet.

But I also wasn’t closing the door anymore.

Not all the way.

═══════

I should’ve known it was too good to last.

The morning started perfect.

Too perfect.

Jungkook showed up with matching zoo t-shirts he found online. One for him, one for Eun Ae. Hers said “Mini Tiger.” His said “Big Tiger.”

She laughed for five straight minutes and made him wear it out in public.

I rolled my eyes and told him he was shameless.

He just grinned and handed me a coffee with two extra espresso shots- exactly the way I liked it.

“Trying to bribe me?” I asked.

“Maybe.”

I didn’t smile.

But my fingers brushed his on accident when I took the cup.

And I didn’t pull away.

We took Eun Ae to the botanical gardens. Let her feed koi fish and run across wooden bridges with her stuffed tiger tucked under one arm. Jungkook stayed close the entire time. Carrying her backpack, tying her shoe when it came undone, wiping ice cream off her face.

It almost looked like a family.

Almost.

We sat on the grass to rest before lunch, and she ran over to the koi pond like it was a different world.

“She’s so comfortable with you,” I said, trying not to let it sound like an accusation.

“I’m glad,” he said. “I want her to be.”

There was a quiet pause.

Then he looked at me and said something that should’ve been sweet.

But it wasn’t.

“She’s just like you, you know.”

I blinked.

“She’s strong and stubborn and always needs to be right. She even talks with her hands like you do- ”

“Don’t,” I said, sharper than I meant to.

He froze. “What?”

“Don’t compare us like that.”

“I wasn’t- I meant it as a good thing-”

“She’s not a mirror, Jungkook,” I snapped. “She’s a person. Her own person.”

“I know that,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean it like- ”

“You weren’t around. You don’t know what she’s like. You’ve seen her for what? A week? You don’t get to analyze her like you raised her.”

His mouth opened. Then closed.

And I saw something shift in his eyes.

Something small and hurt.

Then a tiny voice interrupted us.

“I’m sorry,” Eun Ae whispered.

We both turned.

She was standing by the fish pond again, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I didn’t mean to make you mad,” she sniffled. “I’ll be good.”

“No,” I said quickly, moving toward her. “Baby, no. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

She clung to me like her little heart might explode.

I scooped her up and pressed her to my chest.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, voice thick. “I’m not mad at you. I promise. You didn’t do anything.”

She looked over my shoulder at Jungkook. “Are you mad too?”

He shook his head, eyes glassy. “No, sweetheart. Never.”

“I just wanted to have a nice day,” she mumbled.

My throat tightened.

“I know,” I whispered.

We sat on the bench together for a long time after that.

No one said much.

═══════

Eun Ae fell asleep in the car on the way home, and Jungkook carried her inside like muscle memory. He tucked her into bed without needing directions, covered her with her favorite blanket, and kissed the crown of her head before stepping back like it hurt to walk away.

Neither of us said much after that.

He left for the venue early that night to prep for their final concert.

I stood in the hallway after he left, hand pressed against the door, heart aching like it was made of split seams and bad timing.

I didn’t cry.

But I wanted to.

Because I knew this was what I did.

Push away before I could be left again.

═══════

The stadium vibrated under my feet.

Screams rolled like thunder across the roof, and I could feel the beat of the music reverberating through the concrete backstage walls.

It was the final night of BTS’s residency.

Everything was fire.

Everything was electric.

Everything was right- except me.

I stood at the main comms table with a headset snug against my ears, spitting rapid-fire cues to the light techs, the camera ops, and the runners, my voice a metronome of control.

“Camera C, pan stage right. Cue smoke burst. Light rig alpha, wait two seconds on drop- no, two seconds, not four-”

My tone was clipped. My spine straight.

On the outside, I looked like I had it together.

But I could feel it.

The crack behind my ribs. The pulse behind my eyes. The way I flinched every time his voice cut through the speakers.

Every note he sang.

Every lyric he poured his soul into.

It hurt.

I told myself I didn’t care.

I told myself I was over it.

But every time the lights shifted and his silhouette appeared, I remembered the way he’d looked when he kissed me and the way he’d stayed when I slapped him.

I remembered how his voice broke when he said, “I love you. Right now. All of it.”

I remembered the way he meant it.

And I remembered how much that terrified me.

“Y/N?” someone called in my ear. “Spotlight three needs confirmation. We’re doing the slow solo bridge in thirty.”

I blinked, the fog in my head thick.

“Copy that,” I said quickly. “Cue in thirty. Confirm on bridge.”

I watched the monitors as he stepped up to the center of the stage.

Alone.

Golden lights haloed around him. Fans screamed his name from every direction.

And he sang.

Not just to them.

I knew that voice.

I knew when it was for the crowd…

…and when it was for me.

My hands curled into fists at my sides.

Stop it.

Don’t romanticize this.

Don’t soften.

But I did.

I always did.

Every time his voice cracked. Every time he hit a note like it cost him a piece of himself.

He looked straight into the lens during the final chorus- the one that streamed to every screen in the arena.

It was almost too direct.

Too intentional.

And in that moment, I knew.

He wasn’t singing to a sea of strangers.

He was singing to me.

The cue ended. The screen faded to black. Lights cut. Screams exploded.

My heart thudded harder than the bass.

I turned away from the monitor and pulled off my headset.

I needed air.

The crew backstage was already preparing for encore. The guys were offstage hydrating, catching their breath, prepping for the last two songs.

I slipped through a side door and stepped out into the shadowed corridor by the loading dock. It was cold. Quiet. The noise of the crowd muffled by thick walls.

I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes.

I didn’t want this to hurt.

But it did.

I didn’t want to care.

But I did.

And worst of all?

I didn’t want to want him.

But God, I did.

═══════

The cheers were still echoing in my bones.

My shirt clung to my back, soaked through with sweat. My hair was dripping. My lungs were still catching up.

But all I could think about was her.

I didn’t see her once during the show. Not backstage. Not in the wings. Not even in the flashes of tech crew darting through shadows.

But I felt her.

Like gravity.

Like silence.

Like a missing beat in the rhythm I couldn’t get right.

I sat alone in the dressing room while the rest of the guys laughed and recapped their favorite fan chants. Jimin had his feet on the table, Taehyung was dancing shirtless with a can of soda, and Jin was complaining about the confetti in his hair.

But I couldn’t join them.

I couldn’t even smile.

My hands trembled as I unlaced my boots. My knees bounced restlessly. My throat was dry, but I couldn’t drink anything.

Because all I could hear was her voice.

“You don’t know what she’s like.”

“You weren’t around.”

“You don’t get to analyze her like you raised her.”

She was right.

Every word.

I’d tried so hard to connect, I didn’t realize I was stepping on landmines she’d spent years trying to bury.

I messed it up.

Again.

“Yo,” Namjoon said, stepping into the room and tossing me a towel. “You good?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“You’re lying.”

I sighed. “I know.”

He sat down across from me, cracking open a bottle of water and sliding one my way.

“She didn’t talk to me tonight,” I said.

“You talk to her?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then maybe she’s waiting.”

“Or maybe she’s done.”

Namjoon didn’t say anything to that. He just leaned back and looked at me with those eyes that saw way too much.

“Do you regret it?” he asked.

I blinked. “Regret what?”

“Kissing her.”

I hesitated.

“No,” I said. “Not for a second.”

“She kissed you back.”

“Just for a second.”

“But she did,” he said. “And that means something.”

“Does it?”

He nodded. “It means she hasn’t closed the door. She’s just scared to open it.”

I stared at the floor.

“I don’t want to scare her,” I whispered. “I just want to show her that I’m not that kid anymore. That I’m not running. That I’m here. I’m here.”

Namjoon leaned forward. “Then tell her. Really tell her. Not to fix things. Not to beg. Just to say it. Say what you didn’t back then.”

I nodded slowly.

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” I said.

“Then tonight’s your last chance.”

“I don’t know if she’ll open the door.”

“Then knock anyway.”

I looked up.

“I’m scared,” I admitted. “If she sends me away, I don’t know if I’ll recover.”

“She won’t send you away,” he said. “Not if you’re honest. Not if you’re real.”

I took a deep breath.

I was real.

I was terrified.

But I was real.

═══════

I didn’t ask what he was doing here.

I didn’t ask why he looked like he hadn’t slept in days or why his fingers were twitching at his sides like they didn’t know how to be still.

I just watched as he stepped inside my apartment, slowly, like the floor might vanish beneath him and closed the door behind him with a soft click.

He stood there for a long time.

Like he couldn’t find the words.

Like if he said the wrong thing, I’d vanish.

I leaned against the wall and waited.

He finally looked up.

“I didn’t know how to leave this city without seeing you again.”

I didn’t reply.

“I’m not asking for anything,” he said. “Not your forgiveness. Not a second chance. Not some happy ending I don’t deserve. I just… I need you to know.”

His voice cracked.

“I need you to know that I never stopped loving you.”

My breath caught.

“I didn’t leave because I stopped. I left because I was scared. And young. And stupid. And then I was ashamed. So ashamed I couldn’t even look at myself. So I blocked you. I shut you out. Because every time I thought of you, I remembered what I threw away.”

My throat burned.

“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known,” he said. “And you raised our daughter without me. You built a life, a home, a future- and I wasn’t there. I missed her first words. Her first steps. Her birthdays. I missed everything.”

Tears welled in his eyes.

“I don’t deserve to be her dad. I don’t deserve to even stand in this hallway. But I’m here. And if there’s even the smallest piece of you that believes I could be more than what I was-”

He stopped.

Swallowed hard.

“-then I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it.”

The silence that followed felt like thunder.

And then I whispered, “You don’t get to walk back in and say the right thing and expect it to fix the past.”

“I know,” he said, hoarse.

“But…”

He looked up.

“But you said the right thing anyway.”

And then I stepped toward him.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t even breathe.

Until I reached for him.

And he broke.

His hands cupped my face like I was something fragile, like I was glass, like he wasn’t sure if I’d let him keep holding me.

And when he kissed me- this time- I didn’t slap him.

I kissed him back.

Hard. Messy. Real.

It wasn’t slow.

It wasn’t soft.

It was years of ache and regret and longing that had nowhere else to go.

His hoodie came off, tossed aside like it was nothing, and mine followed, sliding to the floor in a forgotten heap.

Hands found skin like they were remembering. His fingers traced the curve of my waist, the dip of my spine, like he was mapping me again, reclaiming territory he’d lost.

My back hit the hallway wall, the cold plaster a stark contrast to the heat of his body pressing against mine. He kissed down my neck, his breath hot and ragged, and whispered,

“I missed you so much. I missed this. I missed you.”

I moaned into his mouth, my hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. We stumbled toward the bedroom, shedding layers like they were shackles, breathless and desperate.

The bed creaked beneath us as he lowered me onto it, his weight hovering above me, his eyes searching mine like he needed permission.

“This okay?” he asked, barely above a whisper, his voice raw with need and uncertainty. I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest, but he needed more.

“Say it.”

“Yes,” I whispered.

He didn’t hesitate. His lips found mine again, hungry and demanding, but his hands were gentle, reverent, like he was worshipping me. He kissed his way down my body, pausing at my breasts, his tongue tracing the curve of my nipples, his lips murmuring praises against my skin.

“God, I missed these. So fucking beautiful.”

I arched into his touch, my breath hitching as his hands slid down my thighs, his fingers brushing the edge of my panties. He hooked them with a single finger, pulling them down slowly, his eyes never leaving mine.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Always were.”

He kissed his way back up, his lips brushing mine before trailing down my neck, his hands roaming over my body like he was memorizing every inch.

“I’ve thought about this every day,” he confessed, his breath hot against my ear. “Every. Fucking. Day.”

I reached for him, my hands tracing the lean muscles of his back, the ink of his tattoo sleeve, the piercings that glinted under the dim light. He was solid and real, and I couldn’t stop touching him, like I needed to prove he was here, that this was real.

He shifted above me, his eyes dark with need, and I felt him, hard and insistent against my thigh.

“I need you,” he growled, his voice rough, his hands gripping my hips. “Now.”

I nodded, my heart racing, my body aching for him. He didn’t waste another second. He entered me slowly, his eyes locked on mine, his breath catching as he filled me completely.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his forehead resting against mine. “You feel so good.”

He began to move, slow and deliberate, his hips rocking into mine, his hands gripping my thighs like he was anchoring himself to me.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice low and demanding, and I obeyed, my eyes meeting his, holding his gaze as he thrust deeper, harder.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his lips brushing mine with each movement. “So perfect.”

His words sent shivers down my spine, his praise fueling the fire burning between us. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer, meeting his thrusts with my own, our bodies moving in perfect sync.

“Jungkook,” I gasped, my nails digging into his back, my voice breaking as pleasure coiled tight in my core.

He growled, his pace quickening, his hands gripping my hips tighter, his control slipping. “Cum for me, baby. Let me feel it.”

His words were my undoing. My walls clenched around him, my body trembling as my orgasm crashed over me, waves of pleasure washing through me, my breath catching in a sharp cry. “Jungkook!”

He whispered into my neck, his lips brushing my skin, his voice hoarse and desperate. “I love you. I love you so much.”

His words were a balm, a salve to wounds I didn’t realize were still raw. I clung to him, my fingers digging into his back, my body still trembling as he followed me over the edge, his thrusts becoming frantic, his breath ragged against my skin.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice breaking as he came, his body shuddering above me, his release a sharp, primal sound.

He collapsed onto me, his weight heavy but comforting, his breath hot against my neck. For a moment, we just lay there, our hearts pounding in unison, our bodies still joined, the silence thick with unspoken emotions.

He brushed my hair back and kissed my forehead.

“I’m not going anywhere this time,” he said, voice trembling.

I didn’t answer.

But I didn’t ask him to leave either.

And that was enough.

For now.

═══════

I woke up to the sound of his breathing.

Slow. Steady.

It filled the room like the soft hum of a song I hadn’t heard in years.

For a moment, I didn’t open my eyes.

I just listened.

Soaked in the weight of him next to me. The warmth of his arm draped around my waist. The rise and fall of his chest behind my back. His hand, large and gentle, resting against my ribs like he was afraid I’d disappear if he let go.

The light was pale through the blinds. Morning had barely begun.

But the ache in my chest already knew it was time.

I turned over slowly.

He was already awake.

Watching me.

Not smiling. Not saying anything.

Just looking.

Like this was the first morning of his life that made sense.

I searched his face for hesitation.

There wasn’t any.

Just quiet awe.

And something softer than I knew what to do with.

“You didn’t sleep,” I whispered.

“Didn’t want to.”

I blinked. “Why not?”

He reached up and brushed a strand of hair from my cheek.

“Didn’t want to miss this.”

My throat tightened.

I looked away.

“You’re leaving today.”

It wasn’t a question.

He nodded. “My flight’s in four hours.”

I swallowed.

“Will you tell her?”

He nodded again. “I want to. When you’re ready.”

“I don’t know when that’ll be.”

“I’ll wait.”

I looked back at him.

He meant it.

“I don’t know what this is,” I said softly.

“Me neither,” he replied. “But I want to find out.”

Silence stretched between us like thread.

“Can I see you before I go?” he asked.

“You’re seeing me now.”

He smiled. Just barely. “After I pack. Before the airport.”

I didn’t say yes.

But I didn’t say no.

He leaned in and kissed me once- just once- like he didn’t want to ask for more than I could give.

Then he pulled back, exhaled, and whispered:

“I’m so in love with you.”

I didn’t say it back.

But I didn’t need to.

Because he pressed his forehead to mine, closed his eyes, and stayed there for a long time.

And when he finally pulled away, when he slipped out of bed and gathered his things, I watched him with something heavy and quiet in my chest.

Not fear.

Not anger.

Something like hope.

And when Eun Ae woke an hour later and asked where Mr. Kookie was, I smiled, just a little, and said:

“He’s not gone. Not really.”

Because for the first time in years…

I believed it.

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Post A/N: dont hate me 😭 there’s still so much to their story

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MASTERPOST ♡ MASTERLIST

♡ requests are welcome ♡ taglist ♡

These characters are fictional and do not represent any real-life individuals. Their likeness is used solely for visual inspiration and does not reflect the actual person or their story.

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Posted: 06/24/2025

Taglist: @mar-lo-pap @lovingkoalaface @whoa-jo @kiliskywalker666 @sucker4jeon @annpeachy-blog @kaiparkerwifes @nikkinikj @elithenium @asyr97 @heyinwluv85s @jjkluver7 @bammbi-jeon127 @kookoo-kachoo @angelsdecalcomania @kayswatanabe @granataepfelchen @kelsyx33 @tatamicc @blubird592 @llallaaa @chromietriestowrite @k1ll1ngcl0wns @jahnaviii @mfsitscho @traumaanatomy @mellyyyyyyx @yu-justme @bangtaniess @xmiaacxio @emmie2308 @magicalnachocreator @suker4angst @dragonflygurl4 @taetaecatboy @somehowukook @iiamnotsure @lavender2ari @busanbby-jjk @prilnextdoor23 @ecomidnight @cuntessaiii @jungshaking @nbjch05 @baechugff @jakiki94 @songbyeonkim

#jkwrites m #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook ff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #bts #bts ff #bts ffs #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook idol au #daddy kookie m

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aajjks · 3 days ago

Text

Truth and Kiss (m)

synopsis. Just playing truth and dare with your roommate, pretty innocent, right? NO.

warnings. 18+, kïssíng, hôrny bèhàvíóúr, cráck, prófáníty.

note. Hi guys, I wrote this because I was missing him so I hope you guys will enjoy this and you know what if this gets positive reactions? I might write a follow up to this and… smut hehe. Thank you please enjoy.

•••

It starts with a bottle of cheap wine and Jungkook’s dumb, smug face leaning across the table.

“Truth or dare?” he grins, eyes glassy from the alcohol, that stupid dimple popping like he knows he’s about to ruin your night in the best way.

You narrow your eyes. “Why do I feel like this is a trap?”

“It’s not!” he protests, way too quickly. “I’m just tryna have fun with my favorite girl.”

Your heart does a weird little skip. But no.

No.

Not falling for it.

You sigh. “Fine. Truth.”

He smirks, tapping his finger against his lip like he’s thinking hard. “Okay. When was the last time you thought about me… like that?”

You blink. “Like what?”

His grin widens. “Like, you know. In a way where you wanted to climb me like a tree.”

You throw your head back and groan. “Oh my goodness. Next.”

“Nope,” he says, leaning closer, eyes sparkling with mischief. “You gotta answer.”

“Never,” you lie through your teeth, but your ears are burning and you know he sees it.

He gasps dramatically. “Liar! Babe, you’re hurting my feelings.”

You snatch the bottle of wine and take a big gulp. “Dare.”

His face lights up like Christmas. “Kiss me.”

You stare at him.

GOODNESS.

“You’re so predictable.”

“Yeah, but you’re still thinking about it,” he says, leaning in just a little, breath warm, eyes dark.

You shove him back with a pillow. “Truth.”

He sits up, hair messy now, still grinning. “Alright. Truth… I’ve thought about you on my face at least—mmm—three times this week.”

You choke on air. “Jungkook!”

He shrugs. “You asked for truth.”

“You’re a menace.”

“And you love it.”

You roll your eyes but your lips twitch, fighting a smile. “Fine. Dare.”

He smirks. “Sit on my lap for the next round.”

“You’re insufferable.”

But you’re already moving because the wine’s hit and honestly? You don’t hate the idea.

You settle on his lap, and holy fuck, he’s warm. And solid. And he smells stupid good, like soap and boy and trouble.

His hands hover awkwardly, like he doesn’t know where to put them without risking death.

“Truth or dare, princess?”

You glance at him, smirk playing at your lips. “Truth.”

His voice dips low, filthy. “Do you want me?”

You freeze.

His eyes are locked on yours, no more jokes, no more smirks just raw, open crush, the kind he’s been trying to hide behind dumb dares and dirty jokes.

You gulp, mouth dry, pulse racing. And before your brain can stop your mouth—

“Dare.”

He laughs, loud and real, head falling back, dimples deep, eyes bright. “Coward.”

But he’s looking at you like you just made his whole night.

•••

You’re still on his lap.

And he’s still looking at you like you’ve hung the stars just for him, dumb grin plastered across his face, hair sticking up in every direction because of your earlier pillow attack.

“Alright, since you chickened out on truth,” he says, voice all low and warm now,

“you gotta take your dare seriously.”

You arch a brow. “You already dared me to sit on your lap.”

“Yeah,” he smirks, gaze dropping to your lips, “but you didn’t ask how long.”

You snort, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

But you don’t move.

And neither does he.

His hands finally settle on your hips, tentative at first, then a little firmer when you don’t slap him away.

His fingers flex like he’s trying to commit the moment to memory.

Like he can’t believe this is real.

You feel it too. the tension humming between you.

The warmth of him.

The way his heart is racing under your hands where they rest on his chest.

“Truth or dare, babe?” His voice is almost a whisper now, like he’s afraid of breaking the spell.

Your mouth is dry, heart pounding in your throat. “Truth.”

He grins like he just won the lottery. “Are you thinking about kissing me right now?”

Your brain shortcircuits.

You want to say no.

You really do.

But he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that exists. Like you hung the moon and the sun and all the stars.

Like he’s been waiting forever for you to just see him like this.

And fuck it.

You’re drunk enough. You’re bold enough.

“Maybe.”

His breath hitches. You can feel it under your palms. His grip on your hips tightens, like he’s trying not to lose it.

“Your turn,” he manages, voice rough now. “Truth or dare?”

You grin, wicked. “Dare.”

And oh, the look on his face. Like you just handed him the keys to the kingdom.

“Kiss me.”

It’s not a joke anymore. No smirk. No dimple. Just pure want, right there in his eyes.

You don’t overthink it. You don’t hesitate. You lean in, and your lips meet his— soft at first, testing the waters, but he’s not having it.

Nope.

Jungkook kisses like he’s been starving. Like he’s been waiting a lifetime.

Like he’s trying to pour every filthy thought, every hidden crush, every goddamn dream he’s ever had about you into this one kiss.

His hands slide up your back, pulling you closer, closer, until you can’t tell where you end and he begins.

His mouth is warm, insistent, teeth nipping just enough to make you gasp, and he groans— low and wrecked, like he’s been waiting forever for this exact sound from you.

When you finally break apart for air, you’re both breathing hard, foreheads pressed together.

“Well,” you manage, dazed, lips tingling. “That escalated.”

He grins, eyes still half-lidded, thumb brushing your cheek.

“Best. Dare. Ever.”

And the way he’s looking at you? You know he’s already plotting his next move.

“DONT GRIND!”

You’re still on his lap. His hands haven’t left your hips. His chest is rising and falling like he just ran a marathon which, honestly, might be true given how hard that kiss hit him.

“Okay okay.”

You blink, trying to gather your thoughts, but he’s still staring at you like you’re the eighth wonder of the world, lips swollen, hair a mess, cheeks flushed.

“Truth or dare?” you say, breathless, because you’re not about to let him win this game.

His grin turns downright dangerous. “Dare.”

You tilt your head, thinking, feeling bold as hell.

“I dare you to stop being a coward and tell me how long you’ve actually wanted to kiss me.”

He freezes.

Like full-on, glitching-in-real-time Jungkook.exe has stopped working.

“Fuck,” he mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face, ears burning bright red. “Since the week we moved in.”

Your stomach flips.

“The week?”

He groans, leaning his head back, looking at the ceiling like it can save him.

“You were wearing that dumb oversized hoodie, hair in a bun, yelling at the Wi-Fi. I don’t know, okay? My brain broke.”

You burst out laughing. “Seriously? That’s what did it?”

“I have no explanation for my dick,” he says dramatically, throwing his arms up.

“It has a mind of its own. It saw you and was like yup, that’s the one. End game. Pack it up.”

“Gotta respect your dick.”

You’re laughing so hard you almost fall off his lap, but his arms are around you now, holding you steady, his face buried in your shoulder, giggling too.

When you both finally calm down, you pull back to look at him.

“Truth or dare, Jungkook?”

He smirks, eyes dark, fingers drumming lightly on your waist. “Dare.”

You lean in, lips brushing his ear, voice low and dangerous. “I dare you to do that again.”

And before you can even blink, he’s got you pulled in, mouth crashing into yours like he’s been waiting for permission his whole life.

This time it’s hungrier, messier.

hands in your hair, tilting your head just right, lips parting yours like he owns them.

His tongue traces yours, slow at first, then deeper, like he wants to taste every part of you, like he wants to ruin you for anyone else.

You’re clinging to him now, fingers fisting his hoodie, heart racing so fast you’re dizzy.

When you break apart, gasping, his forehead rests against yours, both of you wrecked.

“This,” he says, voice rough, thumb stroking your cheek, “is the best fucking game I’ve ever played.”

You laugh, breathless. “And you’re still losing.”

He grins. “Oh, babe, trust me. I’m winning.”

You’re both breathless, hearts racing, tangled up on the couch like two idiots who should definitely stop while they’re ahead.

But of course, neither of you does.

Because Jungkook’s looking at you like you’ve just given him the keys to heaven.

His thumb is still tracing lazy circles on your waist.

His knee is bouncing slightly because this man?

This man is literally buzzing with energy, like he doesn’t know what to do with himself now that his wildest dream is happening in real time.

“Truth or dare?” he rasps, voice still wrecked from kissing you like he was trying to memorize every inch of your mouth.

You grin, feeling reckless. “Dare.”

His eyes flash. “I dare you to let me kiss you somewhere that’s not your mouth.”

Oh.

You know you should say no.

You should laugh it off, shove his dumb face away, remind him that this is just drunken game chaos and not Real Feelings.

But instead?

“Where?”

Jungkook’s lips part, and for a second he looks absolutely stunned that you didn’t shut him down.

His cheeks go pink, ears turning red, but that cocky smirk returns fast.

“Neck,” he breathes. “Right here.” His fingers brush the spot where your pulse is thudding like crazy.

You should stop him.

But when his mouth meets your skin, you forget how to think.

It’s slow at first, just a soft press of lips, then a warm drag, and then— oh God, the tiniest scrape of his teeth.

Your breath stutters, fingers tightening in his hoodie.

You feel him smile against your throat, feel his grip on your waist firm up like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“Jungkook—;” you gasp, but it comes out sounding way too much like a moan.

And that? That breaks him.

His head snaps up, eyes blown wide, looking at you like you just handed him the entire universe on a silver platter.

“Oh my God, you liked that.”

You glare, trying to regain some dignity. “No I didn’t.”

“Liar,” he grins, dimples out in full force, smug as hell. “You so did. I felt you shiver, don’t even try me.”

“Fuck.. my dick is like throbbing right now..”

You shove him lightly but you don’t move off his lap. Because god help you, this is fun.

Too fun.

“Truth or dare?” you challenge.

He leans in, grin turning filthy. “Dare.”

You smirk. “I dare you to shut up for two seconds before you embarrass yourself more.”

Jungkook gasps, hand to chest like you stabbed him again. “Babe. That’s cold.”

But he obeys. For about two seconds. Then—

“You know, I read somewhere that making out burns calories. We should, like, consider our health.”

You snort. “Oh my God. You’re impossible.”

“And hot,” he says, wiggling his brows. “Don’t forget hot.”

Your face hurts from grinning. You’re still pressed together, still tangled, still too far gone to untangle without admitting to what this is now.

And when his gaze drops to your lips again?

Yeah. This game is far from over.

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straykidsnerd255 · 2 days ago

Note

Omg hiii!!! I’m loving what Saja boys hcs and I loved the pop mart hc u wrote!! (*^▽^*)

What would the saja babes be with an alt/goth gn!s/o? Their demon performance literally sparked this request (0///0)

Oh stop, you are too kind. Thank you so much! And thank you for sending in this request! I hope that you enjoy<3 Had to listen to Your Idol on repeat and don’t regret it. They can have my soul. I’m sure if I wore the goth reader all that well but I hope it's still good!

Jinu:

Jinu is a sucker for your gothic style. Considering he is a demon, black and deep purple are his colors.

Seeing you wear those very same colors made both his human side and demon side preen with happiness

Jinu had appeared as his demon one night in your shared apartment and you saw him, in the middle of putting your make-up on.

You both had a seriously long talk that night

You didn’t understand why he would hide his demon side from you but the fear that filled him when he told you that he believed you would leave him made your heart break.

You took his hand in yours and pressed it to your chest, just over your heart.

“You are the only one that makes my heart race like I’m wearing pastel colors and flowers in my hair. Just like when you performed Soda Pop.” You giggled as the tips of his ears turned red.

When you and Jinu went on dates, he wore the pastel colors, you wore the black, a 180 to his demon persona.

You designed your nails after his actual claws and Jinu could feel his heart racing like he had been running a marathon.

Scratch his head when the both of you are lazing around. Specifically in his demon form because he will purr.

His demon will practically beg for back scratches when the two of you are lounging in the dorm room watching tv.

His demon form will clasp your hands together and hold them tightly when he feels overwhelmed.

You show off all your black clothing and make-up on different nights when he is feeling down, hoping that will cheer him up. (It does. He’s a sucker for you.)

Abby Saja:

He is all about the bright colors. He is constantly wearing the bright blues and greens and pinks while you wear only black. You did occasionally wear a dark red whether it be contacts or a belt to hold your pants up.

You fell for Abby Saja at a concert and when he saw you, he fell harder. Literally, he fell off the stage and landed at your feet, dust slowly settling as he rubbed his head and took your offered hand, worry in your eyes.

From that moment, he knew he needed you by his side. He asked the security to take you back to their waiting room so he could talk to you and possibly get your name.

Dating a demon for 3 years is still pretty new to you but you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Abby Saja always asks for head rubs when he comes back from a rather long concert or a long tour that has finally ended.

Even in his demon form, he is gentle when he holds you. He refuses to hurt the person that actually likes his demon and will ask him to show his demon randomly.

The moment he stepped into the apartment, he saw you sitting on the couch in one of his black t-shirts and black basketball shorts. His demon appeared and he dramatically fell onto your lap.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face in your stomach as he closed his eyes and breathed in your scent.

“Long day?” You asked, immediately removing the black hat and running your fingers through his hair, occasionally screeching at his scalp.

He shivered but nodded his head. “The longest day I have ever had. Please don’t make me go back and do it again.” He would whisper but you knew he loved it more than anything.

Mystery Saja:

He loves your goth style. He even asked you if you would be willing to dress him up the same way, his demon getting excited to try it out.

Mystery had been getting ready for a concert when he saw you putting the make-up on, your eyes trained on the lines you were making on your eyes.

He stopped, jaw dropped as he watched you.

“You should apply as our makeup artist. You are talented with that.” He said, walking into the bathroom and stood behind you, his hands on your shoulders as he watched you.

You giggled and finished the last of the make up before turning around and wrapping your arms around his waist and laying the side of your face against his stomach.

“Gotta make myself look good for my boyfriend's concert. Where would the fun be if I didn’t show up in the colors that matched your demon side?” You asked, watching as his human form slipped away and his demon form appeared.

You left an hour after he had left, knowing that was when you would be let into the stadium.

You watched him and his group with a soft smile, your heart pounding as he danced his heart out.

When he caught sight of you, you smiled and waved watching as his whole face lit up.

The second the concert was over, you made your way to their dressing room but before you could even open the door, Mystery opened the door and pulled you into his chest, nuzzling his face into your neck. “You were amazing, my love.” You whispered.

Romance Saja:

Even in his demon form, he refused to take your soul. The way you looked dressed in all black, chains falling around your hip and the black makeup around your eyes made him feel fuzzy.

Romance will flirt with you non stop when you are getting your clothes on and makeup on.

When they were on stage in their demon forms, Romance refused to use his voice to control you. He watched you from the stage as you jumped up and down, ignoring the other fans around you.

His chest swelled with pride as you danced along to the song.

When the two of you are out shopping for new clothes to add to your closest, he does his best to learn the gothic style and does his best when it comes to choosing something you want.

At one point, Romance asked if you would be willing to put the same eye makeup on him and you, in a giddy excitement, immediately sat him on the chair in the bathroom as you got to work.

When you two were getting ready for a date, Romance dressed in more lighter reds and pinks, pulling his hair back into a half bun to keep it out of his face while you pulled on a oversized black t-shirt, slipped into black cargo pants, clipping a few chains on the right side, and pulled on socks and combat boots.

Romance wrapped his arms around your neck as you applied the last of your makeup, his eyes shining when you turned to face him.

He will also sit and paint your nails black while he talks to you about his demon side, giving you all the details and such about it before pink smoke surrounds him and his demon is sitting in front of you.

You can only stare at him mesmerized as he finishes painting your nails. Yes you have seen the demon before but from a distance. Having him in his demon form in front of you makes your heart thud against your chest like it has never done before.

You are also taller than Romance, and built a little more than him so Romance has a thing for you standing behind him when fans are talking to him.

Romance, when he is tired and you don’t have your full outfit on, will lay on your chest and sleep.

Romance will actively show you off in his instagram posts, holding your hand or pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

Baby Saja:

Baby Saja will walk around you, studding the clothing that you decided to wear on your date.

His hands would graze the chain that sat on your hip, trace over the chain around your neck before taking you hand in his, looking up at you and smiling softly.

He will never admit it but the way you dress in all dark clothes makes him happy. His demon likes the darker colors. It's easier on his eyes.

When he performed Your Idol, he could see you copying all his moves, mouthing all his words all while staring directly at him.

You are slightly stronger than him when in human form so he will ask you for piggyback rides, mainly so he can nuzzle into your neck better.

When he comes home after having to act like a popstar, he just collapses into your chest, while you are laying on the couch, scrolling through your phone.

His demon appears as he rests his chin against your chest, silently begging for your attention.

When you finally look at him, he blushes and buries his face in your chest, making you chuckle and wrap your arms around him.

He will insist on doing your makeup when you don’t feel like doing it yourself, carefully do your hair in a half bun leaving half your shoulder length hair down so he can play with it.

Because of your gothic style, he will beg the rest of the group to let you be their manager, knowing that you have seen their demons and don’t care one bit.

Your black nails are just long enough that he will ask you to scratch at his head when he is extremely tired and will actually fall asleep against your chest when you do so.

#kpop demon hunters #Goth reader #alt reader #Saja Boys x reader #Jinu x Reader #Abby Saja x Reader #Mystery Saja x Reader #Romance Saja x Reader #Baby Saja x Reader

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ari-ana-bel-la · 1 day ago

Note

Hiii. I live your stories so much and I just wanted to say you are my favourite author on Tumblr. Could I maybe request Carlos 16 year old daughter celebrating her quinceañeras (it sometimes gets celebrated in Spain). And maybe she smokes a it of weed and Lando and Oscar try to help her hide it. Like in Superstore (that's a show on netflix).

Thank you so much. I love you and your stories.❤️❤️❤️

Quinceañera

The music was loud. The lights were soft. The pastel pink decorations, gold balloons, and flower garlands twinkled in the overhead chandeliers. In the center of the ballroom stood Yn Sainz — fifteen years old, radiant, and more than a little overwhelmed. Her baby pink gown shimmered as she turned slowly, cheeks rosy, eyes wide.

Carlos stood at the edge of the dance floor, jaw tight, hands clenched behind his back, tears welling in his eyes.

“She’s grown up,” he whispered to no one in particular.

“I know,” Rebecca said from beside him, dabbing her eyes with a tissue, but also sipping champagne like a woman who knew this night was going to turn sideways eventually.

“I still remember when she tried to eat a tire at the McLaren garage,” Carlos said, voice cracking.

“That was a Lego tire, Carlos,” Rebecca said gently. “And she was three.”

“She’s still my baby.”

From across the room, Uncle Lando and Uncle Oscar were arguing over who got to cut the cake. Not help cut the cake — cut it. With a sword. Which neither of them was supposed to be near.

“Why would you get to hold the sword?” Lando huffed.

“Because I’m trustworthy,” Oscar replied, holding it up like King Arthur.

“You once got locked inside a portable toilet for forty-five minutes.”

“That was sabotage.”

“By a child.”

“That child had a vendetta, Lando!”

“Okay, boys,” Rebecca interrupted as she passed them, grabbing the sword with ease. “If you want to cut anything, go dance.”

“Fine,” they both mumbled, watching the sword disappear like it had just been taken by a Hogwarts professor.

Meanwhile, Yn and her gaggle of best friends — Valeria, Sofía, and Luna — snuck away from the buffet. They all looked like angels. If angels wore rhinestones and whispered things like “Okay, if we just go around the fountain and past Tío Javi, we can light it there.”

The joint, a skinny thing passed from Valeria’s older brother, was unceremoniously lit behind a floral arch made of artificial roses and pure teenage rebellion.

“Oh my God,” Yn giggled after her first hit. “I think I saw the balloon arch blink.”

“You did not!” Luna wheezed, coughing dramatically into her elbow.

Sofía, the chaos gremlin of the group, took an especially long drag, holding it like she was training for the Olympics. “No, wait. She might be right. That arch is looking at me funny.”

The four of them were now officially high at the most extravagant quinceañera southern Spain had seen in recent memory.

Back inside, the music had shifted from soft salsa to full reggaetón. Carlos was visibly vibrating.

“Who let Bad Bunny on the playlist?” he demanded. “That’s too suggestive.”

“It’s her birthday, cariño,” Rebecca replied, calmly eating an empanada. “She’s not going to become a criminal because Daddy Yankee came on.”

Carlos’s expression said he wasn’t convinced.

Meanwhile, Yn re-entered the ballroom like she was walking on pillows made of glitter. She was high. Blissfully, surreally high. And doing her very best to look like a normal, not-at-all-buzzed young lady.

“Smile,” she whispered to herself. “Smile like you don’t hear colors.”

She made her way to the table where Lando and Oscar were now seated with a plate full of churros between them.

“Uncles!” she greeted, a little too enthusiastically.

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “Hey, sweetheart. You okay?”

“Of course! I’m totally... ceiling.”

“...Ceiling?” Lando repeated.

“I meant feeling!” Yn said quickly. “I’m feeling great! So much...pink! Did you know your faces are wiggling?”

Oscar blinked.

Lando dropped his churro.

“Oh no,” Lando whispered. “She’s on drugs. She’s high. She’s stoned at her quinceañera. WE’RE GOING TO JAIL!”

“Calm down!” Oscar hissed. “She’s not going to jail — we are if you keep shouting like that!”

Yn sat down slowly, her hands hovering above the chair like it might disappear. “Is this chair...conscious?”

Oscar leaned forward. “Yn. What did you do?”

“Nothing! Nothing bad! I’m just...you know...a little elevated.”

“ELEVATED?” Lando shrieked. “You’re fifteen!”

“I was peer pressured!” Yn said quickly. “Valeria’s brother gave us a joint. It smelled weird and then we laughed at a balloon for twenty minutes.”

“Oh God,” Lando muttered, staring at his own hands. “What if I accidentally inhale second-hand weed smoke? What if I fail a drug test at McLaren?”

“You haven’t been at McLaren in years, Lando.”

“I still want to pass things, Oscar!”

Oscar, ever the steady hand, turned to Yn. “Okay. You’re clearly high. How do you feel?”

“Like the churros are talking about me,” Yn replied solemnly.

“Okay. She’s not dangerous,” Oscar nodded. “Just deeply paranoid.”

Carlos, meanwhile, was hunting for his daughter with the same intensity he brought to qualifying laps. “Has anyone seen Yn?” he asked random guests. “She was supposed to be back for the father-daughter dance!”

“Maybe she went to the bathroom?” someone offered.

“I’m checking all the bathrooms.”

He stormed off.

Rebecca calmly ate another empanada.

Back at the table, Oscar was coaching Yn like she was about to take her driver’s test.

“Okay, listen. Blink slowly. Don’t talk about chairs having souls. And if your dad asks how you are, just say, ‘I’m happy and grateful.’ Got it?”

Yn nodded solemnly. “I am a rock. I am a professional. I am...toast.”

“Oh for the love of—” Lando stood up. “We have to hide her. We need a closet or a dark pantry. Something neutral.”

“We’re not locking her in a pantry, Lando! What is this, Breaking Bad: Quinceañera Edition?!”

“She needs water,” Oscar said, standing. “And bread. I read that carbs help.”

Lando looked horrified. “She’s in heels and a tulle dress. She can’t exactly go full carb coma in the middle of the ballroom!”

Just then, Carlos returned.

“There you are!” he said, eyes lighting up. “The dance is about to start. Yn, come on.”

Yn turned very, very slowly.

“Hi Papa,” she said, blinking one eye at a time like a confused owl. “You look very...horizontal.”

Carlos froze.

Oscar jumped in. “She’s just tired! Emotional day. Hormones. Gowns. You know girls!”

Carlos narrowed his eyes.

“She smells like burnt leaves,” he said.

“She fell into a bush,” Lando blurted.

“WHAT?!”

“Not a real bush,” Oscar corrected. “A metaphorical bush. The bush of...growing up.”

Rebecca, who had walked up silently behind them, took one look at her daughter and burst out laughing.

“Oh my god,” she said, grabbing Yn’s cheeks. “She’s baked.”

Carlos nearly fainted. “YOU WHAT?”

Yn’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry, Papá! I didn’t mean to, I just wanted to be cool and now I feel like I’m on a rollercoaster that smells like cinnamon!”

Lando was fanning himself with a plate. “This is a disaster. We’re going to be deported.”

“We live here, Lando,” Rebecca pointed out.

Carlos was pacing in a small circle, muttering in Spanish. “Mi hija...mi niña...marijuana?! On her quinceañera?!”

Oscar sat Yn down gently. “She’s not hurt. She’s just high. It’ll pass.”

Carlos rounded on her. “Who gave it to you?!”

Yn whimpered. “Valeria’s brother, but please don’t tell her parents! They’ll never let her hang out with me again and she helped me pick this dress!”

Carlos stared at the ceiling.

Rebecca sat beside Yn, patting her hand. “Sweetie, listen. We’re not mad.”

“We’re not?” Carlos demanded.

“We’re concerned. There’s a difference. You made a bad decision, but you’re not a bad person.”

“I smoked,” Yn whispered.

“I once accidentally shoplifted a roll of toilet paper when I was sixteen,” Rebecca replied. “We all do stupid stuff. The important thing is that we learn.”

“Thank you, Mamá,” Yn whispered, eyes brimming with tears.

Carlos sighed heavily, sitting on Yn’s other side.

“You scared me,” he said softly. “I just want you to be okay. No more joints.”

“Never again,” she said solemnly. “Everything smells like glitter and sadness.”

“That’s because you’re sitting next to Lando,” Oscar muttered.

“HEY!”

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you!

-♡○♡

Special love to my hermosa @kaworusgf

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prettygirl-gabi · 2 days ago

Text

Bragging Rights

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Fandom: WNBA-Dallas Wings/ Washington Mystics

Summary: Rivals on court, lovers off — only one gets bragging rights.

A/N: thank youu bby for the help….✨✨

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @cowboybueckers , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @elswhore , @italyyy , @lightsgore , @private-but-not-a-secret , @aubreygriffin , @issilovesherself , @graceeeeeesblog , @sayurireidotcom , @let-zizi-yap , @latenighttalkinqwp , @fairyblossomsav

“You nervous?” Paige whispered beside me, her pinky grazing mine under the hotel duvet.

It was past midnight and the city outside our shared room in D.C. hummed quietly. My phone sat face-down on the nightstand, untouched since dinner. We didn’t need distractions tonight — not with what tomorrow meant.

I turned my face toward hers, catching the way her eyelashes fluttered against her cheekbones. Even after three years together, and playing beside her for almost all of college, this girl still made my heart stutter.

“A little,” I admitted. “First game against you. First game where we’re on opposite sides of the court. It’s like… UConn civil war.”

She chuckled, soft and low. “Lover vs lover. Rookie vs rookie. Edwards vs Bueckers.” A pause. “You know the headlines tomorrow are gonna eat this up, right?”

“Oh, they already are,” I said, letting my head fall back into the pillow dramatically. “Aaliyah was cackling in our group chat about it this morning.”

Paige rolled over onto her side, propping her head on her hand. “You ready though?”

I turned to face her too. “You know I am. But it’s weird not being on your bench. Or hearing you call for me when I sub out. Or seeing you point and smirk at me when you hit a three.”

Her eyes softened. “I miss that too. A lot. I miss your hand in mine during the anthem. I miss walking back to the dorms with you after film. Miss you sitting on the counter stealing my hoodie when I’m cooking.”

“Good thing FaceTime exists.”

She leaned over and kissed my forehead. “Not the same as you in my arms.”

I grinned. “Cheesy.”

“You like it.”

I did.

The next morning was chaos.

The league announced we’d be doing a joint pregame presser. Apparently, they couldn’t resist the storyline — the three UConn girls now divided, all starting, and very much the center of attention.

Paige and Aziaha from the Wings.

Aaliyah and me for the Mystics.

The media room buzzed with energy when the four of us walked in, each of us sporting our team warmups and very different colored shoes.

Reporters lit up like Christmas.

“Okay, okay,” one of them started, laughing, “there are a lot of angles here, but I’ll just start with the basics: how does it feel going up against each other after years of being teammates, especially for Y/N and Paige?”

Paige grinned and nudged her mic. “We knew this day would come. Didn’t expect it to be so soon, though.”

I laughed. “Yeah. And definitely didn’t expect to be doing a joint press conference about it.”

Another reporter raised a hand. “Y/N, Paige — any bragging rights or bets on the line?”

Before either of us could answer, Aaliyah leaned into her mic, expression mock-serious.

“No PDA unless one of them drops 20,” she declared. “If neither does, no kiss at all. But if Y/N outscores Paige, she gets a courtside kiss on the cheek.”

Paige blinked. “Lili has spoken for the both of us, I guess…”

I nudged her leg beneath the table. “Better lace up, babe.”

She raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh, it’s like that?”

Aziaha leaned back with a grin. “This is gonna be good.”

As we filed toward the tunnels afterward, Aaliyah pulled Paige and me aside.

“No funny business,” she warned, mock stern. “No forehead kisses. No hand-holding. No whispers.”

Paige groaned. “Can we at least do our pregame handshake?”

Aaliyah narrowed her eyes, then sighed. “Fine. But you either do it now or wait ‘til tip-off. Cameras will eat it up.”

We exchanged a look.

“Tip-off,” we said in unison.

The gym buzzed at capacity. The crowd had energy that reminded me of Gampel on a championship night. All eyes were on us — not just because we were rookies, but because we were those rookies. Paige and me. The couple. The headline.

During warmups, I locked eyes with her across the court. She gave me a wink, then hit a smooth left-wing three. I narrowed my eyes and sank my own shot from the right.

We didn’t speak until we stepped up to center court.

“Now?” she whispered.

I nodded.

Our handshake was quick — the same one we used to do in college. Fist bump, snap, pinky lock, finger heart. The crowd lost it when we did it. So did Aaliyah, shouting from behind me: “I said no PDA!”

“Handshake doesn’t count!” I called back.

Then the ball went up, and it was game on.

The first half was intense.

We traded buckets, traded blocks.

I managed a couple nice drives and even caught a slick behind-the-back pass from Aaliyah that turned into a three.

Paige responded with a jumper and a couple jaw-dropping assists that made the crowd gasp.

“You guarding me now?” she teased during a switch.

“Always.”

Midway through the third, I got called on a reach-in — which sent Paige to the line.

She blew me a dramatic kiss before shooting.

“Ma’am,” I deadpanned, “that’s PDA.”

She smirked as she sank both free throws.

Late in the fourth, it got wild. Down by two, I hit a step-back three over Paige with 14 seconds left.

“You’re welcome for the highlight reel,” I muttered.

She didn’t say anything — Chris used his time out, that gave them possessions of the ball.

With 13.4 seconds in the game Aziaha inbounds it to Paige, and without too much thinking.

Or hesitation, she smirked at me and then hit a CLUTCH three in my face to tie it at 84.

And then—she leaned in as I was frozen with shock and gave me a quick peck on the lips.

“I want the bragging rights,” she whispered. “And I’m gonna get ’em.”

I come fully out my shocked daze and shoved her shoulder playfully. “Nah babe, that’s all me. I gotta humble you after your two-game streak.”

Overtime felt like a battle of wills.

The Wings were hitting everything early.

Paige fed Aziaha for a corner shot and scored on a pull-up, putting them ahead 88-84.

But then… we rallied.

Shakira hit a midrange. I drove, got fouled, hit both free throws. 88-88.

With 12 seconds left, I in-bounded, got the ball back, faked a give-and-go, and kicked it to Sonia in the corner.

Splash.

91-88.

Paige tried to tie it, but her three rimmed out.

Chaos.

Bodies on the floor.

Sonia came up with it and held tight as the buzzer sounded.

Game.

We won.

My final stat line: 21 points, 10 boards, 6 assists.

Hers: 20 points, 9 boards, 7 assists.

I found her midcourt in the mess of hugs and cheers and chaos. She smiled.

“You got me,” she said, proud and out of breath.

“I got you,” I said, cupping her jaw and kissing her — quick, but lingering just enough.

Aaliyah whooped from behind us. “Okay, okay! Y/N earned it!”

The crowd ate it up.

Cameras flashed.

The league’s official account had already tweeted something about UConn reunion turned rivalry and love and buckets in the District.

At the postgame presser, it was madness.

A reporter asked, “Y/N — how does it feel to outscore your girlfriend and win the game?”

I bit back a grin. “Feels like I dropped buckets and got the girl.”

Another reporter laughed. “You going to use that as your Instagram caption?”

Paige leaned into the mic. “She already told me she’s been saving it in drafts since the schedule dropped.”

They were right.

I posted it an hour later:

“Dropped buckets and got the girl 💋”

📸: Me hitting that three

📸: Paige kissing me midcourt

📸: Scoreboard

📸: Us postgame, her hand around my waist

📸: A kiss on the lips, blurry and backlit by stadium lights

The comments? Exploded.

@uconnwbb: We taught them well.

@wnba: Lover vs Lover. But always Team Love 💕

@aaliyah.edwards: Don’t say I never gave y’all anything 😭

@paigebueckers: I’m demanding a rematch. And I’m dropping 30 next time.

I commented back: “You can try, baby 😘”

And just like that, basketball Twitter had a new favorite couple rivalry.

And me?

I had the win, the bragging rights, and the girl.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!💚💙

-prettygirl-gabi✨️💗

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kxsagi · 3 days ago

Note

Hii can I request a reader that is always loud, laughing, joking (darkest and driest jokes) but actually serious and responsible in work, like she’s always being silly, but suddenly getting serious when it’s come to her assignment, feel free to do with any BLLK characters but can you include Karasu and Yukimiya?

Thank you so much ily 🥰🔥

“𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬, 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬”

a/n: OKAY THIS READER DESCRIPTION IS SPOT-ON ME, LIKE THIS IS LITERALLY ME

anon are you on my alt???

ft. karasu tabito, yukimiya kenyu, isagi yoichi, kaiser michael, mikage reo, itoshi rin, itoshi sae

karasu tabito

the first time he met you, he genuinely thought you were a walking meme compilation. you were doing a deadpan reenactment of your funeral, complete with “my last words will be ‘sybau’ while laying on the floor like you were auditioning for a broadway tragedy. karasu’s like “yo... what is wrong with her 💀” “nothing, what’s wrong with you for being alive during my performance?” his soul left his body. instant love.

but the day he saw you working for the first time? jaw-dropped. you were elbows-deep in paperwork, planner color-coded, firing off deadlines, and actually emailing people back like a normal adult? you even hit him with a “can’t talk right now. i’m working.” in the most monotone, CEO voice ever. karasu just blinked like, “… where did my unhinged girlfriend go???”

he finds the contrast sexy as hell. like yes, joke about your own funeral, but also please help him organize his taxes because he hasn’t done that in three years.

he will literally follow you around going, “say something messed up” like a fanboy just to hear you hit him with another “if i got run over, would you keep the pieces as a souvenir?”

sometimes he gets whiplash. you’ll be laughing at a meme, and then suddenly turn to him with “babe, did you turn in your PR proposal? the deadline’s 3PM JST.” and he’s like, “how did you– bro i forgot that even existed…”

yukimiya kenyu

he thought you were deranged at first. you met at a charity gala, and you made a joke about "selling your soul to capitalism, but at least doing it ethically.” he laughed, but cautiously. like you were a tiger in clown makeup. but then you were laughing so hard at your own joke, and the way you wheezed like an old radiator made him soft.

what really made him fall, though, was seeing how responsible you were behind all the dry jokes. you handled all the event logistics like it was second nature, emailing sponsors, correcting billing issues, and still cracking the occasional “if i die from stress, make sure my ghost finishes the job” in your corpse-dry voice. yukimiya was like, “wait… so she’s the brains and the chaos???”

he’s a bit of a perfectionist, so he really respects your ability to flip the switch. when he’s spiraling about a brand deal or a photoshoot, you’re the one who calmly reminds him that “you’ve already survived worse. remember when your hair got fried in that one ad? and you still slayed.”

he listens. because underneath the sarcasm and your “i hope the earth explodes” humor, you always get things done.

the two of you are basically opposites: he’s elegant, poised, and a little dramatic; you’re loud, meme-obsessed, and unfiltered until it matters. he thinks you’re the perfect balance of chaotic good and responsible queen. “i love that you’re insane, but i also love that you scare HR with how efficient you are.”

isagi yoichi

his first impression: “she’s hilarious, but needs to be monitored at all times.” you were making jokes about tax evasion and pretending to haunt people through google docs. “i wrote ‘i’m behind you’ in size 2 font at the bottom of every spreadsheet.” “WHY.”

but when the blue lock PR team asked someone to help manage the team’s community outreach campaign, you went full commander mode. suddenly spreadsheets, schedules, polite corporate emails, and you booked everyone’s appointments like a pro. isagi was SHOCKED. “wait, you’re actually a professional???” “i am literally linkedin-certified. don’t play with me.”

isagi now just lets you talk your insane talk as long as you walk the walk (which you always do). but he does sometimes worry when you casually say things like “if this deadline kills me, cremate my body and mix it into office coffee.” “love. are you okay?” “no, but i’m still doing my job better than everyone else.”

kaiser michael

at first, he thought you were annoying. too loud. too sarcastic. too many disturbing jokes. until one day he caught you managing your own press schedule, negotiating deals over the phone like a shark, and drafting a marketing deck for your brand in the same breath as “haha if i get hit by a bus at least make sure it’s a mercedes.”

kaiser’s respect for you skyrocketed. because that’s his energy – joking around, acting like he doesn’t care – but being a monster at your craft? that’s how you earn his interest. now he just follows you around like a smug little bodyguard. “you’re a menace. and you’d probably make a million dollars scamming me in a powerpoint.”

when you two work together on anything serious, it’s absolute power couple energy. he’ll be leaning against your desk like, “are you done being hot and responsible?” and you’ll deadpan, “no. but your face is delaying my work productivity.”

mikage reo

honestly? he was enchanted from day one. you were cracking jokes like “if i win the lottery, i’m investing it in haunted dolls,” while organizing a full event on your phone and replying to work emails with scary speed. reo watched with his jaw dropped like “are you even real???”

he’s used to people who joke around, but flake out. you are the rare breed that jokes harder and works harder. he finds your duality fascinating. you’ll clown someone to their face and then finish your budget projections by 3 AM. “how do you have so much chaotic energy and still have a retirement plan?”

reo is obsessed with your balance. he calls you “joker boss” because you’re both unhinged and terrifyingly capable. he’ll 100% show you off at events like, “yeah, she made our whole business plan… while doing a bit about eating drywall.”

itoshi rin

you physically hurt him. not because you hit him, but because the first time you met, you made a joke so vile and deadpan, he choked on air and stared at you like you were a walking red flag in human form. something like: “i hope the company burns down, but like... on a friday so we don’t have to work monday either.” “what the actual f–”

he genuinely thought you were an unserious clown. like the kind he’d never tolerate. until one day during a group project, everyone was slacking off and joking around… and suddenly, you flipped into hyper-efficient, eyes-glinting, do-it-or-die mode. you whipped out a laptop, started outlining deliverables, assigning tasks, and saying terrifying things like “i’ve already emailed the supervisor your excuses. now pick up the slack.” rin was stunned. aroused. slightly afraid.

now he just watches you in silence whenever you’re in your serious mode, trying so hard not to look impressed. but then you break the tension by going, “anyway. if i die tomorrow, bury me in a blazer and tell god i was productive.” and rin's brain just short circuits again. he thinks you're mentally unwell. he's also never been in love like this.

you actually motivate him. he’s already serious about his career, but you’re the only one who outworks him and makes him laugh like a man losing brain cells.

sometimes he hears you laughing at your own jokes at night and just sighs into the pillow like, “she’s so weird.” then goes back to cuddling you tighter because you’re his weird.

itoshi sae

sae heard your laugh before he ever saw you. loud. wild. from the gut. he turned around like “who let a maniac in here?” then you walked past him saying something like, “if i disappear, tell my manager i ascended. into the void.” he watched you leave and muttered, “what the fuck...”

but the next time he saw you, you were on a work call, serious voice on, notebook open, calling shots and speaking like the CEO of a fortune 500 company. and when the call ended? you dropped your pen, leaned back, and went: “anyway, if this job doesn’t kill me, i will.” sae almost choked on his drink.

this man is dry. so dry. but you? your humor is even drier, darker, and more sarcastic than his, and it physically pains him to laugh at your jokes. like the one time you said, “my toxic trait is being really responsible while secretly hoping society collapses.” “... that’s so stupid.” but then he’s laughing five hours later on the team bus because of what you said.

he secretly loves watching you flip from “chronically online chaos gremlin” to “scary competent adult.” he’ll watch from a corner, drink in hand, smirking while muttering, “they’re not ready for her. poor bastards.”

you stress him out when you’re too funny during serious moments though. “sae, if you die mid-game, can i have your bugatti?” “no, and i’m blocking you when i haunt you.”

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eliasoir · 2 days ago

Text

୭౿ AFTER HOURS ⠀── L. HEESEUNG !⠀

【 𝖨𝖭 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛 】 ⏖ 𝓈𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅. 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗈 . . .

⏜💬. 𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁 ﹙ 𝖬𝖣𝖭𝖨 𝟣𝟪+ ﹚ ⠀◞ ◟ 𝗰𝗼𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝗲𝗿!𝗵𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴 𝘅 𝓯!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 ! 𓂃 𝖻𝖾𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗲 ／ 𝗎𝗇𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗑 , 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗑 , 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 , 𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝒻. 𝗋𝖾𝖼 , 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒 , 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄 , 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 . 𝘄𝓬 𝟤.𝟣𝗄

★ 𝓑𝖫𝖮𝖶𝖠𝗞𝗶𝗦𝗦 !

the office was almost completely still, dead quiet after eight pm. the lights were dimmed, halls empty, the last of the cleaning staff gone a little bit ago.

but you’re still here trying to catch up on some of your paperwork. apparently, so is lee heeseung. and god, you’ve been trying to ignore him for weeks. he’s too smug, too good at his damn job, and worst of all, too attractive.

always has his sleeves rolled up by the end of the day, loosened tie, tousled hair that always looks like he just ran his hands through it after winning a case. in your books he was disgustingly perfect. and it didn’t help that he was always around. flirting with you in passing like it’s a reflex, always saying your name with a tone that is anything but casual or coworker-like. almost like he knows it does something to you. and it does. but you were a professional. composed. however, heeseung was a walking sin in a three-piece suit.

you’re halfway through drafting a motion that was supposed to be done a few days ago, when a soft sounds hits your door. “hey.” his voice is low, annoyingly smooth.

you glance up and he’s leaning against the doorframe, sleeves rolled up per usual, pretty silver watch glinting. he holds a file in one hand, other tucked in his pocket. his tie loose around his neck but this time with the top two buttons of his shirt undone.

“got those docs you needed,” he says, stepping in closer to your desk.

you swallow hard. “thanks.”

you stand, reaching for the file, only for him to hold onto it a second too long, fingers brushing yours as you tug it to you. the silence stretches thickly.

“got a lot left?” he asks, eyes flicking over you. his gaze is blatant, hungry. score ripping them off you and looking at your paper cluttered desk.

“not really,” you mutter, hugging the file to your chest. “was just about to—“

“head out?” he cuts in, brows twitching. “or come by my office?” his tone is easy, but his eyes say something else. something darker.

“your office?” you ask, voice a little too breathy.

he grins slow, like he’s been waiting for this moment. “yeah. i owe you for those merger notes, right?”

you try not to let your breathing catch and stay calm. his presence alone made your skin heat up. “you could’ve just emailed me.”

“sure,” he shrugs. “but then i wouldn’t get to see you like this.”

he steps closer, your back hits the desk with the step you take back.

“like what?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

he eyes your legs, your black skirt, your matching pantyhose, your high heels on your feet.

“like this,” he calmly says. “you in this skirt. those pretty heels. standing there looking at me like you’re either gonna make out with me or hit me.”

you should stop this, make him leave. you know you should. but then he lifts a slow hand and runs the pad of his thumb just beneath your lip, tilting your chin up slightly.

“come to my office,” he murmurs, gaze locked on your lips like he was already pressing his to them. “please.”

you don’t remember saying yes, but you let your hand slip in his as you walk with him.

the second the door clicks shut, he’s on you.

you drop the file down on his desk, back facing him and he takes that for advantage. he presses up behind you, hands not on you yet, just lets his breath ghost over your ear and neck. whatever it was about him, it snaps the thread you’ve both been trying to keep up for weeks. you spin to face him and then you’re kissing.

the kiss was never once anything but hunger. it was deep, hard, months of sexual tension fulminating in one filthy, unprofessional mess. now his hands were everywhere. sliding down your sides, gripping your ass, pressing you even closer to him. then he’s pushing you back onto the edge of his desk.

“shit,” he mutters, yanking at your blouse, eyes locking with yours. “you know how hot you are?”

“heeseung—“ you gasp as he grinds his hips into your slowly, the hard bulge of his cock through his slacks pressing between your thighs.

“been thinking about this since you started here,” he breathes heavily. “every time you walked in here with those cute little outfits. so slutty—shit.”

he grabs at your blouse, yanking it open hard enough that you thought it broke. the buttoned top freeing your boobs and the black lace covering them.

“fucking finally,” he mutters, his mouth crashing down to your chest, tongue licking a bold stripe over the swell of your breast before he’s tugging your bra down roughly. the quick movement making your tits spill out of the, and he wastes no time, sucking one of your nipples straight into his mouth.

you gasp, arching your body into him, hands flying to grab at his shoulders. he groans against you, sucking hard, tongue swirling as his hands come up to the other, squeezing, kneading, pinching it. anything he could to make you whimper. he switches to the other breast with just as much desperation.

“so fucking pretty,” he growls, lips glossy, breath hot. “been dying to get my mouth on you.”

you try to say something back, but he grinds into you again, right against the heat of your pussy through your thin clothing. it’s filthy. he’s filthy. perfect. he ruts into you slow, yet still rough, like he’s trying to feel you through your clothes. he’s still groping your tits, licking and sucking and moaning into your skin.

“feel that?” he mutters, grinding harder. “s’how hard i get for you.”

all you can do is moan softly in response. as if something clicked in him, his hands hike up your skirt just enough to get to your pantyhose better. he doesn’t wait another second, bunching them in his fists and rips them, causing the cool air to float to your aching core.

“oh my god,” you breathe.

“don’t worry. i’ll buy you another pair,” he says, eyes glued to the run in the nylon. “or twenty. fuck—spread your legs.”

you do, heels sliding apart on the polished wood as he sinks to his knees in front of you. and his own breath catches when he sees what’s underneath.

“fuck,” he murmurs, fingers brushing over the thin black string cutting across your hips. his eyes snap up to yours, full of heat and thick lust.

“a thong?” he smirks, almost laughing. “fucking hell. you knew i’d be here tonight, didn’t you?”

his hand grip around to your ass, thumb sliding along the curve of it. he pulls the elastic away from your skin, hard, letting it snap back against your skin with a loud pop. the act causing a small whimper from you.

“nasty girl,” he mutters, mouth trailing up your thigh. “walking around the office like you’re so fucking innocent…but wearing this under your skirt.”

your heart slams against your ribcage. and suddenly, as if it hit you all at once what you two were doing, you speak up.

“heeseung—what if someone—“ “they won’t.” his voice is wracked with need. “office is empty. just us.”

and then he buries his face between your thighs. you gasp, a choked moan leaving you as his tongue meets your pussy. his hand gripping your thigh tight as he held the fabric of your thong to the side.

he groans deep into you. “fuck—you’re soaked,” he mutters, stuffing his face closer to get to your bare cunt. “can’t believe i waited this long.”

you can’t think, let alone speak. his mouth is too good. lips and tongue working you open like he knows your body already, like he’s done it a hundred times and committed it to memory. he slides two fingers into you without a warning. you moan out, clutching at the edge of the desk, knuckles white.

he curls them with perfect precision, sucking on your clit, murmuring, “so fucking tight,” like he’s losing it already.

when he finally pulls back, lips shiny, he stands and kisses you like he can’t be away from you any longer. his lips and tongue mingle with yours, letting you taste yourself. his fingers still buried inside you, still pumping you slow.

“you taste so good,” he whispers, voice gone gravelly. “think about this every time you say my name. imagine what you would sound like…let me hear you.”

his fingers reach the perfect spot just as he speaks, curling inside you just right. “f-fuck, hee—“ your moan breaks out of you before you can stop it, high and trembling, hips grinding against his palm.

he moans lowly, taking his fingers from your cunt as you whine. he’s unbuttoning his shirt now, working his tie looser. he pulls at it, frustrated and needy, yanking it off and throwing it aside.

“turn around,” he says, low and firm. “bend over the desk.” your knees almost give out at the sole tone of his voice but you do as he says.

his hand splays on your back, pressing you down to the cool wood, the other hand pulling your hips back toward him. you hear the unbuckle of his belt. the tugging of his zipper, and the low, shaky breath he exhales when he finally takes in your form bent over for him.

“you’re perfect,” he mutters. “absolutely fucking perfect.” smoothing his hand over the curve of your bare ass, licking his lips.

he slowly drags the head of his cock through your folds, spreading you open. he teases you leisurely, collecting slick on the tip.

“beg,” he says.

“please,” you moan in a breathy voice. “heeseung—need you.”

knowing he could hardly wait any longer either, he decides that was enough for him and pushes in. the moan you let out is a broken one, echoing off the high ceilings of his clean office.

he bottoms out, hips pressing to yours as his breath stutters. “fuck. you feel—fucking amazing, baby.”

he barely waits another second before pulling almost all the way out of you before snapping his hip forward. the motion making you jolt a giant the desk, hands grasping tightly. he fucks into you like he’s wanted to for months. like it’s the only thing that’s ever made sense to do.

his thrusts are deep, and angled just right every time. he was relentless. one of his hands come around to rub your clit, fingers still wet from earlier. “you’re mine now,” he growls lowly into your ear, pounding into you harder. “understand?”

you nod frantically, crying out when he hits your sweet spot over and over.

“say it.”

“yours,” you sob. “i’m yours—ngh—heeseung, i’m—“

before you could register it, your orgasm hits you like a truck. you come around him hard, hole clenching tight, legs shaking. the heels you were wearing were the only things keeping your legs from giving out.

he curses under his breath, thrusts into you a few more times, then groans deep as ecstasy shoots through him in shockwaves, his hand gripping your waist grip almost bruising.

the air around you was thick and hot with sweat, sex, and silence, the office going still.

he leans over you, breath ragged, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“wanna do that again on the conference table next time,” he murmurs, grinning smugly against your skin.

you laugh weakly. “you’re unbelievable.”

he eases out, tugging your skirt back down. “and you’re irresistible. we should stay after hours more often.”

he eases back from you slowly, lips brushing your body again like he’s not ready to let go. you’re still pinned against the desk as you face him, blouse open, skirt wrinkled up, your pantyhose letting a cold patch of air float up to your cunt. he glances down, winces slightly, then meets your eyes with the ghost of a smirk.

“shit. i really did a number on those, huh?”

you blink at him, still breathless. “you ripped them. ruined them.”

“they were in my way,” he shrugs unapologetically. but then his face softens a little. “i’ll buy you more. promise.”

he steps back just a little, looking you up and down like he only just realized how wrecked you look. then he laughs, both admiring and amused.

“how the fuck are you gonna leave the building like this?”

you sigh, buttoning your shirt back up. “guess you’re walking me out.”

he grins, grabs his tie off the floor, and presses one last kiss to your lips. “c’mon,”

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disorganizedkitten · 1 day ago

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Oh also more on this but commenting legitimately gets fics back into the Active Wip Designation. Just so you know.

Every author works differently, of course, but I have around 200 works in progress and write mostly according to what sparks joy - you know what sparks the most joy? Nice comments.

I'll drop a few examples but comments like this genuinely do get me into the document to add another sentence, paragraph, chapter, etc

Say you like the fic and are interested in where it's going! Say you enjoyed XYZ! Ask a question about a mystery left in the chapter! What made you laugh? Drop some hearts! Say you reread a fic or you got it from a rec list and are deeply enjoying it! Say "thank you for posting, I'm looking forward to more!" I promise, that will be a thousand times better received than an "update pls" comment.

Just. Comment please, it makes the author happy, it helps you to gush over the writing and enjoy it on a deeper level, it shows - especially on multichapter works - that you're still reading, since you can only leave kudos once. And a lot of writers do adjust their upcoming chapters based on comments, especially big plot reveals. How else do we know if we've left enough clues?

do fic readers know that their comments actually influence the course of the story sometimes? i don't mean in a "you need to write it this way because i say so 😡" type of comment, i mean when people are asking questions or really engaging with the plot and the themes in the comments they sometimes bring up things that i didn't even think of, or dig into parts of the story that i've overlooked, or get really interested/fixated on something i was going to just kind of glance over--and it has me going 'oh wait that's actually really interesting, that's a good point' and fully adding or tweaking or changing things about the story going forward. i'm literally adding an entire additional chapter to something right now because someone's comment had me like "oh i didn't dig into that as much as i could have." you have impact!

#Comment please #It makes me open documents #Quickest way to get an update #Jaymeow speaks

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breakmeoff · 3 days ago

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Makin' Sweet Music

featuring: bang chan x fem!reader warnings: swearing, smut: oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v, breeding kink, usage of "daddy" and "babygirl". MDNI, 18+ only* word count: 2.7k synopsis: chan swears he's almost done, but he also said that over an hour ago. you get bored waiting for him on the couch and decide to encourage him to give up working for a little play time. note: this is part of the Larie's Libations 200 Followers Celebration. this was requested by my gorg anon reader 🪩, whose selection is listed below. thank you for reading! LARIE'S LIBATIONS - Dark Bourbon Sunrise [Bourbon] — Bang Chan [Sours] — Dealer's Choice (Music Studio) [Citrus Rind] — Kink (Breeding) Masterlist

Fully reclined on the plush couch just behind Chan, you burrowed into the oversized hoodie you’d stolen from him and were aimlessly scrolling through your socials. Eventually, you dramatically sighed, dropped your phone onto your chest and blew raspberries into the void above you. “Channie… are you almost done?”

With his eyes glued in on the monitor ahead of him, fingers manipulating the various buttons around him while adjusting the sound of a particular mix he was working on, he heard you behind him and just smirked. Your patience had never been a strong suit, but he loved you despite the shortcoming.

“Babygirl getting a little impatient?,” he mused, not turning around to face you.

“No…” you murmured quietly, trying not to acknowledge that you were being a brat. But, after a few seconds of silence, you pouted audibly. “Ok, fine, I’m bored! The others left hours ago and I know you are a musical genius but you don’t seem to have made any headway since.”

Spinning around in his chair to face you, he dropped his jaw and stared at you in faux aghast. “This coming from the woman who begged to come up and watch me work tonight!” Rolling closer to you from his chair, he leaned over you slightly with an impish grin. “Something about ‘Oh Channie… you’re so sexy when you’re in the studio,’” he said in a mockingly feminine voice.

Sitting up, you reached out to swat at him playfully. “I do not sound like that!”

Laughing, he reached forward at both of the long sleeves of his hoodie, your hands hidden somewhere beneath the fabric, and tugged you forward. Attempting to dig your heels into the ground below so he couldn’t pull you, you shrieked playfully and were no match for him when he was determined.

Once on your feet and standing above him, he wrapped his arms around your waist and tipped his head to look up at you, a devilish expression on his face. “Maybe I just need some better inspiration…”

“Oh?” You laughed dryly, looking down at him with a smirk.

Chan nodded his head, his eyes still affixed on your face. “Uh huh…,” his broad hands sliding from around your waist to rest lightly on your hips before tucking his fingers into the baggy hem of his hoodie, starting to slowly inch it up your body.

“I really don’t think you’re gonna find any inspiration in your hoodie, baby…” you teased, hands gently resting on his shoulders.

“Maybe not in it, but definitely under it…” he replied, pushing the oversized sweatshirt just over your chest, still wearing a tank top beneath it, and his large palms went to both of your breasts, groping them with gentle fingers as he still kept his eyes on your face.

Truth be told, you never really got anything out of him playing with your tits. It’s not like they hurt, no, but unlike some women they just didn’t do anything for you. So, you shook your head slowly, that same grin still on your lips as you looked between his hands and his eyes. “You do realize you get more out of the fun bags than I do, right?”

Groaning playfully, Chan leaned forward to rest his head on your sternum right between the valley of your breasts, hands still clutched onto them. “I know… and it’s so disappointing.” He barely leaned back, just enough to look from one breast to the other in close proximity. “They’re just so big and beautiful and perfect and…” he sighed wistfully, placing a kiss to each one of them respectively.

“Pathetic…” you laughed at his response, shaking your head teasingly before you placed both hands on his cheeks and tipped his head back again. “Good thing I like you this way.”

Chan parted his lips like he was going to protest your statement, but you cut him off, leaning down to kiss him softly. Affectionately taking your time, melting your lips against his full, plush tiers, you leaned your body further into his, his fingers falling back down to your hips.

Soon enough, the tip of your tongue traced his lips, coaxing them apart to explore his mouth further, humming appreciatively against him with your eyes closed. One of your hands fell from his face and began sliding down his shoulder, over the front of his chest, past his taut abdomen, and landed right on top of his semi-hard erection beneath his black sweatpants.

A low groan rumbled through his chest, lips parting in an exhale at the feeling of your hand now starting to rub over him, his fingertips digging a bit more into your hips.

The tip of your tongue flicked at his lower lip before lightly catching it between your teeth, giving it a gentle tug before you slowly sunk to your knees before him. “Think I may have figured out a way to cure my boredom…” Chan’s eyes opened, half-lidded, watching you reach for the waistband of his sweats. “Lift…”

“Fuck,” he mumbled, lifting his hips quickly at your command, and watched you tug down his pants and his boxerbriefs in one fell swoop, leaving them to rest on his thighs but effectively releasing his cock, swelling by the second.

Nudging his knees apart, you scooted closer between them and bent down to press a soft, chaste kiss to the flushed red tip of his head, already starting to leak for you. Chris’ eyes stayed on your face, one hand gripping onto the arm rest of the chair and the other moved to brush your hair behind your ears.

Moving down to the base of his dick, you licked a long, flat stripe up the underside of his shaft. The tip of your tongue first teased the sensitive area just below the head, eliciting a low moan from Chan, before licking your way back to the very top and lapping up his precum, swirling your tongue into this slit of his cock.

“Babygirl…” he sighed, fingers gripping a little more firmly into your hair as you opened your mouth, lips wrapping around him and then sliding all the way down til your mouth met his pelvis and the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. Both of your hands laid flat on his bare thighs, supporting yourself as you began a rhythm, bobbing your head up and down his veiny dick in just the way you knew he liked.

Chan’s thighs tensed under your hands, and he sucked in a breath between his teeth as he watched you masterfully take him into your mouth. Lifting his hand from the armrest of the chair to meet his other behind your head, he made a makeshift ponytail with his palms and held your head in just the right angle to make his eyes roll back. “Fuuuck, I’m not gonna last if you keep d-doin’ that…”

Lifting your head and letting go of his cock with a wet pop, he groaned and you giggled, licking at some of the drool around your lips. “That’s the point, want you to lose control for me Daddy.” Before he could reply, you dropped your lips back down his cock and hummed, the vibrations of your throat causing him to groan gutterally, hands holding your head in place as he twitched in your mouth. “Fuckfuckfuck… stand up,” he breathed, coaxing your head back and off of him once again.

Pulling your mouth off of him again, your lips flushed and red, you stared up at him, his hand still in your hair. “Get up, get up…” he hurried you, pulling you into a standing position.

“Now who’s getting impatient?” You teased, getting back up to your feet. Barely having time to catch your balance, Chris’ hands reached for your joggers and the waistband of your panties, tugging them both down frantically, letting you rest your weight onto his shoulders as he pulled them completely off of you, shoes and socks still on. With a light giggle, you watched him rip your clothes off and toss them to the side, “looks like that would be you… not even giving me a chance to take off my damn shoes…”

Chan looked back up to your face, his hands going to the armrest of his chair and flipped them up before he reached forward, grabbing your ass cheeks in both his hands and pulled you up against him. “C’mere and let me fuck that smartass attitude out of you.”

With a wicked grin of your own, teeth catching your lower lip between them you nodded as you moved to straddle his lap. “Anything Daddy wants…” With one hand on his shoulder, bracing yourself, you dropped your other hand to his cock and lined it up with your entrance before slowly lowering yourself down on top of him.

Once he was fully settled inside of you, you both sighed out at the feeling - him being consumed by your soft warmth, and you feeling the delicious stretch that only he could provide. Chris’ hands moved to the hem of your tank and the hoodie that was still on you, tugging them both off in one swift motion, dropping them onto the growing pile of clothes nearby.

Returning his big, veiny hands back to your ass cheeks, he gripped roughly, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he began rocking you against his lap. “Fuck Channie…” you murmured, eyebrows furrowing and mouth parting with the new sensations the grinding was providing.

“Shit, your pussy is so fucking perfect,” he mumbled, leaning forward enough to crash his lips against yours again. Tilting your head, you deepened the frantic kiss, a mess of lips, teeth, tongues and heated breath. “...fucking perfect,” he repeated against your lips, leaning back into the kiss.

You couldn’t help but whimper against his mouth, your feet now falling flat on the ground to give you some leverage to start bouncing up and down on top of him. Even with the help of his strong hands guiding your movements, the position was providing a challenge.

Grunting in frustration at not getting as deep as he wanted, Chris gripped your ass cheeks and pushed his muscular thighs into a standing position, you now wrapping your legs around his waist as he turned around and placed you on top of the sound board on his desk. You winced, one of the buttons digging into your backside uncomfortably.

Chan, noticing everything, pulled you closer to the edge of the desk and tucked his arms under your legs, providing him now an unobstructed view of your pink pussy and his thick cock sliding in and out of your slick. “Shit… you look so fucking pretty like this. Spread open for me, taking me like such a good girl,” he muttered, eyes raking up your body to your face.

Dropping one of your legs, he brought one of his hands to the side of your neck and brushed his thumb over your bottom lip as his hips began snapping against yours. “God, give it to me…” you whispered, the tip of your tongue going to lick against his thumb. With a deep growl, he slipped his thumb into your mouth and you instinctively began sucking on it lewdly as he fucked himself deep inside your cunt.

“So fucking good for me…” he mumbled, staring at your lips obsessively, his eyes hooded between the sensual image of you with his finger in your mouth and then back down to where your bodies met. “Gonna fuckin’ fill this beautiful pussy up… you want that, Babygirl? Daddy to stuff you full of his cock and his cum?”

“Yesss,” you muffled out, lips parting in a cry, the pace in which he was fucking you exquisite. As he slowed the roll of his hips, you could feel every inch and vein of his cock against your velvety walls, and then as he slammed himself back in as deep as he could go with a groan, your eyes fluttered shut and you tipped your head back, his wet thumb dragging down the column of your neck.

“Moan for me baby, let me hear how bad you want me to fill you up,” he whispered low, leaning over you as he rocked his hips into you.

“Mmmmnhhh, Daddy… fucking I want it, I want it all,” you cried, unable to do much other than just take every long thrust he was giving you, rocking you into the desk below.

Dropping his head with the feeling of your inner walls clenching around him, his hips began to falter. “Gonna fuckin’ paint you full of my cum, stuff you so full of me… gonna give you so fucking much it’ll be dripping out of you for days… fuck, gonna make you ache for days and never let you forget who…” he slammed his hips against you, hard…

“owns”, another deep thrust… “this”, teasingly pulling out… “pussy. he groaned through gritted teeth, slamming back into you again, leaving himself there buried inside you.

“You do…” you cried, the grip of his hand around your throat tightening possessively, a tear pricking at your eyeline. “You own it, Daddy… all yours…”

Chan’s hand from your hip snaked between your bodies, quickly finding your clit and began rubbing tight, perfectly tempoed circles on it, causing your legs to start shaking.

“Ohmygod, I’m gonna…” you moaned, your hands trying to find purchase of anything stable on the table below you.

“Cum all over my cock, Babygirl. Cum all over me and then I’m gonna make a fucking mess of your pretty cunt with my cum, stuff you full of me…” his words were filthy, and moaned against your neck as his fingers worked their magic on your clit.

With one more harsh thrust of his hips, your body tensed and you gasped, reaching for him in any way you could, trying to hold on to him as your orgasm waved through your body, starting from the top of your head and washed all the way through to the tip of your toes.

Chris dropped his hand from your throat, and pulled his arm protectively around you, not letting you falter as you shook beneath him. “I’ve got you Babygirl… cum all over me, I won’t let you go…” he cooed, eyes pinched shut as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm and tease your clit.

Finally, your muscles relaxed and you cried out a breath, moving one of your hands to stop his fingers at your clit. “S’too much… too much Daddy…”

Chan laughed and finally stopped teasing you, but dug both sets of his fingers bruisingly into your hips. “Hold on tight Babygirl… Daddy’s turn now,” he grunted out, fucking into you relentlessly as he chased his own release, a thin sheen of sweat covering him with his efforts. Two or three deep thrusts later, Chan stilled, buried to the hilt inside of you and he moaned sinfully, rolling his hips against you as he emptied every last drop of himself inside your fluttering walls.

A few moments later, both of you attempting to catch your breath, Chan leaned back from you just enough to look down at the creamy ring around his cock - the mixture of both of your releases creating a sticky mess between you. With a heavy sigh, Chan slowly pulled himself out, mesmerized by the amount of white cum that was coating his dick, and was starting to leak out of you.

“Can’t let any of that.. go to waste…” he mumbled, finally pulling himself out of your warmth before his fingers went to your entrance, pushing his seed back inside you.

With a wicked smirk, he began smearing any of the remaining cum all around your soaked and twitching pussy. “I’ll never get tired of seeing you covered in me…”

my tags: @angel-writes-here @idkimobsessed @queenofdumbfuckery @mfcherry @downingmorphine @pixie-felix @d3kstar @lveegsoi @ebnabi @nebugalaxy @babystay724 @mmarusa @imagine-all-the-imagines @erisuna @beabidoobee @hanniesbubuwife @bbykaixx @riri53 @jinniesgirl @alx-wyjsr @skzswife @hwangjoanna @stephanieeeyang @minnysproutgriffinteddy @jqtsblyth @magicshuhua @loveesiren @szonyix6277 @seungttttop @moontabi

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