#jean with dogs make me so fucking soft

[sixeyesonathiel]

your very hungry vampire boyfriend, satoru gojo, convinces you to sit on his face while you're on your period, and proceeds to devour you like he’s been fasting for three centuries.

pt. 1 | masterlist.

satoru doesn’t think there’s a word in any human or vampire language that fully captures how deranged he is about you.

but if he had to choose one, right now, it would be: ravenous.

and sure, that might sound dramatic, but he’s currently on his back with you straddling his face like you’re royalty and he’s the sacrificial altar. your thighs cage him in, cunt pressed to his mouth, blood warm and slick on his tongue—and he’s losing every last fragment of self-respect he ever pretended to have.

he’s moaning. moaning. like a starved dog at a banquet. like you’re the last supper and he’s both the betrayer and the believer. his lashes flutter with every tremble of your thighs, every twitch of your hips. he’s got one hand anchored on the underside of your thigh, fingers dimpling the skin, while the other lazily strokes up the curve of your spine, like you’re a pet he’s praising for sitting so pretty.

except you’re sitting on his face. bleeding. whining. trying to keep from screaming while he suckles on your clit like it’s a lifeline. like if he lets go, he’ll die. honestly, he might.

his tongue flicks out, long and broad, dragging slow through your folds, and when your blood coats his tastebuds, it hits him like a truck. thick, warm, a little metallic, and so fucking you. it’s not just blood. it’s your blood. and that makes it different. makes it sacred.

he lets out a shaky exhale against your slit, nose bumping your clit, and smiles when he feels your hips jolt. your nails are buried in his snowy hair, knuckles tight, breath hitching on every exhale. he glances up through heavy lashes, catches the flicker of your expression—brows furrowed, lips parted, eyes fluttering like they’re rolling back—and nearly busts on the spot.

“god, you’re such a fucking mess,” he mumbles into you, tongue dragging through blood and slick and every bit of you he can get. his voice is muffled, slurred, and deeply, unashamedly feral.

“y-you’re the one doing this,” you whimper, head tilted back, hair cascading down your spine, your voice thin and trembling. “don’t talk when you’re literally—ah—doing that.”

he chuckles, eyes glinting with something sharp and sinful. “so you want me to focus? on eating you out? like a good boy?”

your thighs twitch. “i didn’t say that—!”

“you didn’t have to,” he purrs.

his jaw is soaked. his cheeks shine. blood smears down his chin, staining the hollow of his throat, painting his lips like he’s wearing you. and he is. all over him.

when you shift, lifting your hips just slightly—he growls, low and needy, grabbing your ass and forcing you back down with a delicious, wet squelch.

“don’t move,” he pants. “be good. sit still. let me drink.”

you freeze above him, but your thighs are quaking, and you mutter something that might’ve been a curse or a prayer, or both. your eyes flutter open, and when you glance down and see him—face wrecked, lips swollen, pupils blown—you shudder.

“i hate how much i like this,” you whisper, voice shaky and paper-thin.

he laughs into your pussy. a soft, wicked laugh that vibrates against your clit and makes your whole body seize. “baby, you’re dripping on my tongue like you’ve been waiting your whole life for this.”

tongue flat now, he just lets you rut against him, lets you take what you need, while he drags a blood-slick hand up to cup your tit under your shirt, thumbing your nipple like a goddamn pervert.

he’s all but rutting into nothing under you, hips bucking upward, cock twitching pathetically in his jeans, tight and untouched. his forehead is damp with sweat, his chest heaving, and he’s drooling—drooling—from how hard he’s going at you.

and then his lips wrap around your clit, and he kisses it like it’s holy. gentle, reverent, obscene. his fangs graze it, teasing, just a whisper of danger—and when you jolt, gasping, a noise slips from him that’s closer to a purr than anything human.

“fuck, fuck,” you gasp. your voice breaks on the second one. “i can’t—i’m—satoru—”

he latches back on like a fucking leech and suckles until you scream.

and then you’re coming. thighs locked, back arched, body trembling as you cry out, fingers clutching his head like you might yank it clean off. and satoru? he’s grinning. face drenched, nose bloody, jaw aching—and he’s fucking beaming.

“that’s it,” he breathes when you finally sag forward, limp and twitching. he cradles you with one arm, other hand rubbing slow circles into your back. “my sweet little bloodbag.”

you mumble something incoherent into his collarbone. probably an insult. maybe a marriage proposal. he can’t tell. doesn’t care.

his face is an absolute disaster—chin shiny, neck streaked red, the lower half of his face so ruined he looks like he just walked off a battlefield—but he’s never felt better.

his dick’s still straining in his jeans. his mouth tastes like heaven. and you, soft and heavy on top of him, still twitching from aftershocks, feel like home.

“same time next month?” you mutter, half asleep, breath ghosting over his skin.

“mmh,” he hums, smile lazy against your temple. and then he shifts beneath you with a grimace, hips bucking up. “actually… you got, like… ten minutes to help me with this boner or i’m gonna go insane.”

when you lift your head and glance down at his tented jeans, lips twitching, eyes still half-lidded with exhaustion and the dazed pleasure of orgasm, he sees the flicker of something mischievous and shy twist behind your lashes.

“…fine,” you whisper.

he smirks, flushed and victorious.

“god, i love my life.”

[cowgirlvi]

mdni. ass tribbing. sub-bottom loser vi. fem-top reader. one night stand. riding vi’s ass prone bone.

vi masterlist

word count: 1.2k

loser!vi doesn’t get much pussy (surprise, surprise), so she’s not entirely aware of the procedures that lead up to sex, and she’s especially caught off guard when you roughly shove her onto your bed, yanking her pants down her legs in one swift motion. stuck on her stomach, her underwear follows in suit, and she’s suddenly laying there with her pale ass out, while you grope the round, muscular globes with painful squeezes. you’re rough and unrelenting, like a woman possessed, leaving red imprints on her skin.

flustered and out of her depth, vi asks, ”ohh, um—should i turn over?” she sounds so dumb and unsure; cutely innocent.

”just stay still for me, sweetheart,” you say, and vi obliges like an obedient dog.

you hum, satisfied, playing with her ass like a stress ball, shoving her ass cheeks together and then spreading them apart so you can admire both her tiny holes. vi stiffens and tries to hide, one hand weakly shielding her backside—and it’s a useless attempt at maintaining what little modesty she has left, because you can still see her large, engorged clit peaking out from her pussy lips.

she should relax, just sit tight and let you take the lead, because this is what she wanted out of her friday night—for a pretty girl to play with her. vi wasn’t subtle about it either; leaning against the bar an hour ago, round ass perked in the air and straining against her black jeans, looking like a teasing whore yet being surprisingly naive.

fuck, you knew straight away that you needed to rub your pussy against her ass.

you press sweet kisses to vi’s shoulder blades, down her back, over her ass, biting and sucking marks onto each individual cheek—and it makes vi’s pussy wetter, makes something ache and throb deep within her core—but that’s about as much patience as you can muster. you’ve waited long enough, forced to make boring small talk with vi at the bar, as if you both didn’t know you were gonna take her home and use her.

you gather saliva in your mouth before letting it dribble onto vi’s backside. with slow, deliberate circles, you rub your spit into her skin. her ass is impossibly soft—plush, warm and pliant beneath your fingers—and you know she’ll make a good fuckdoll.

“fuck, look at you, babe,” you say, and vi involuntarily whimpers—a sound so small, yet undeniably raw. she’s never been treated like this before, as if she’s a delicate little thing, some sort of all-consuming beaut. but she likes it—likes the way it makes her head feel cloudy, how her ears fill with static.

you press your bare, drenched cunt to vi’s right ass cheek—skin to skin, heat to heat—and it’s all happening so fucking fast, the way you start humping against her in long, firm strokes; how your swollen clit is pressed snug against the round muscle. and, embarrassingly enough, vi’s asscheek is glossy with your spit and arousal, making you suddenly aware of just how soaked your pussy has been all this time.

vi gasps at the sensation of your wet cunt—almost feeling scandalized at the realization that this is really happening. and, admittedly, she wishes you had a mirror in here, that way she could watch the way you’re humping your pussy against her ass, using her like she doesn’t matter, as if she’s only an object to you—which is degrading and humiliating, but a sick part of herself likes it.

you’re puffing hot breaths of air against her neck, moaning all sweetly and soft, and the juxtaposition is funny, because at the same time you’re clawing your nails into vi’s shoulders, holding her still so you can fuck your pussy against her just right.

your thrusts speed up expeditiously, pressing your breasts to her back. your movements become more purposeful, more controlled, but your hips stutter when you feel vi perking her ass up—trying to press against further you, to be closer to you, offering herself up for the taking without even realizing she’s doing it. it’s almost endearing, how desperate she is for you, despite the fact that her own cunt isn’t getting any relief this way.

vi’s trembling beneath you, white knuckles gripping the sheets, and you brush your lips against the shell of her ear, murmuring, “such a good girl. letting me use you like this.”

“nghh—uh-huh, y-yes��mmm,” vi tries to speak in agreement, but embarrassingly enough, all she can do is moan.

glancing down the strong line of the back, past her intricate tattoos, you can see the way her obscene bubble butt is jiggling each time you rut against her. fuck. it makes heat bloom in your stomach, it makes you hump against her with more ferocity. and vi’s gasping beneath you, trying to suppress the tiny, desperate sounds that slip past past her lips, but you can hear them anyway, can feel them vibrating through her body.

”ahhh, mmm, uhhh—“ vi’s whimpering, gurgling around the spit pooling in her mouth, while she tries to hump her own pussy against your bedsheets. she’s crying as she does, because with this angle she’s hardly getting any relief. all she can do is lay there, pitifully on her stomach, while you use her ass to get off.

“poor—haah—poor thing,” you coo satirically. you’re stuttering over your words, falling deeper into a fuckdrunk haze, moaning more unabashedly. “you wanna, mmph, feel good too, don’t you?”

you grit your teeth, rutting against her plush rear like a stray bitch in heat. it feels so good, so intense. you’re completely disoriented and dizzy, head swimming with it—and by god, you might actually be creaming against vi’s fat, round ass—which is sexy and humiliating all at once.

“god, you’re such a sweetheart. just take it… let me, ahh, use you. then i’ll take care of your pretty pussy,” you rasp, voice thick, almost slurred.

you’re so close, you’ve never come this quickly before and your vision is going blurry, eyes crossing. in the next moment, your eyes flutter shut, pleasure mounting, a wave cresting so fast you can barely brace for it. it’s too fast, too intensely powerful.

and somehow, vi can tell you’re about to orgasm, as if you have a telepathic connection, because she tenses her ass and rolls her hips back against you—just enough to push you over that final hurdle. 

you choke on your breath, pelvis stammering against vi’s butt, and then—fuck—you’re coming, slick and messy, leaking like a sieve against her skin. you’re moaning shamelessly, hissing through clenched teeth, but you’re too far gone to care how wrecked you sound, too lost in the intoxicating heat of it all.

vi shudders at the obscene wetness coating her skin, squeezing her thighs together, and you can feel the way she’s trying to hump her cunt against the bed with newfound desperation. she’s been such a good girl this entire time, so you know you should stop, should give her what she needs, but the aftershocks keep rolling through you, and you can’t—not yet.

your movements slow, but you keep rocking against her, dragging your oversensitive, swollen clit along the curve of her ass, riding out every last tremor. vi whines quietly, shifting beneath you, until the last few graces of your orgasm die out, and you’re collapsing against her back like a felled tree, heavy and unmovable, surrendering to the weight of your orgasm.

taglist: @marvelwomenarehot0 @marieeeluvsyou @mxchi-mxxn @el-amor-que-tu-quieres @jinxvex @teddybearbutch28 @nahcala @ellieslob @ruelezz @rhian88 @lotuxzzeri @usuck @thatgrlnany @urjnxedd @prettyprincess19 @vixxxxxxxen @jinxedbambi @dreamyraincloud @just4jinx @caninecutiez @shlutmeow @frillynpinkprincess @sapphvi @fawncritter @billiegabbysyd @f3ralpuppyg1rl @grlfraudsqz

(3/22/25)

[stellarsturniolos]

━━ ⟢‘PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT’ ╰  C.S.

・ ˖  ✦ ⋄ . in which.. chris lets bsf!reader practice giving head on him.

warnings: smut, cursing, blowjob, i think that's everything.

A/N: reblogs and likes are appreciated! i do NOT give consent for my work to be copied or uploaded to any other platform. thank you. this is my first time attempting to write smut in years so pls be kind to me lmfao.

it's late at night. you and chris are sitting on your balcony, looking up at the blanket of stars that seem to stretch out to infinity. the occasional barking of dogs somewhere in the distance was the only noise that broke into the silence of the evening.

chris is your best friend. has been since you were a little kid. he's the person you feel the most at ease. you don't need to hold a conversation with him to have a good time – just being with him is enough for you.

"tell me something i don't know about you." he suddenly mumbles.

"what?" you snort softly. "you already know everything about me."

"oh, c'mon." he nudges your foot with his own. "there's gotta be something."

you avert your gaze as you feel heat rising into your cheeks. "... okay. i've never given a blowjob before."

his eyes widen as he gawks at you. "no way. really?"

you feel your lips twitch into a small smile at his surprise. "yes, really. and, i mean, it's not like i don't want to. trust me, i do. i'm just worried that i'll be really bad at it."

he blinked slowly, taking in your words. "you just need to practice."

you brows raise. "yeah? i've tried. on fruit, on my fucking dildo. but those things aren't the same as a real person. they can't give feedback."

his entire body grew unnaturally still, and you could almost see the thoughts spinning around in his head. "you could.. practice.. on me?" he says slowly. "i'm a real person. i can give feedback."

you feel your face grow even warmer. "i.. i, um.." you stutter. "i guess that's true."

"should we.. go inside?" he asks hesitantly.

you almost can't believe this is happening. that this is a real conversation that you're having with your best friend. you want to pinch yourself. "yeah.. yeah, let's go inside."

and before you can blink, he's standing up and grabbing your hand, tugging you inside your empty apartment and toward your bedroom.

you're suddenly very thankful that your roommate decided to spend the weekend with her boyfriend.

you pause in the doorway to your room and watch as chris pulls his hoodie off, revealing the soft t-shirt underneath. he plops down on your bed as he's done many times before. but never for something like this. he glances over at you with a faint smile. "you don't have to be so nervous, y'know? it's just me."

you nod as you step closer, sitting down on the bed near his thighs. "are you sure this is okay?"

"i wouldn't have offered if it wasn't okay." he reaches for your hand and places your palm over the now very obvious bulge in his jeans. "you feel that? feel how much i want this?"

"shit, chris." your fingers move to his zipper and belt buckle. you work quickly, tugging his jeans and boxers down his legs. you unexpectedly feel desperate for it. you want to see him, taste him, make him feel good.

your eyes widen as you see his dick for the first time, resting heavily against his stomach. it's huge. bigger than you ever imagined. much larger than your stupid fucking dildo.

you reach out with one hand and brush your fingers lightly over his shaft. you giggle softly as it twitches under your soft touch.

you scoot closer, until you're sitting in between his legs. you bend your head forward, flattening your tongue against the sensitive tip.

"fuuuuck." chris breathes out, his hips stuttering involuntarily.

you open your mouth and slowly suck him in. you want to savor the moment. you want to enjoy every second of this.

you lower yourself down as far as you can without gagging and wrap your fingers around the rest of his cock. your tongue brushes against his slit, tasting the precum that's steadily leaking out of him.

you look up and see chris looking down at you, his jaw slack and pupils dilated with desire. you've never seen him look like this, but you fucking love it.

you bob your head at a steady pace, fisting the part of his shaft that your mouth can't quite reach. you're a slobbering mess, but you don't give a damn. the slurping sounds of you pleasuring him only make you feel more aroused yourself.

you feel chris' hands in your hair, gripping and tugging. "mm, fuuuuck – so fuckin' good."

that's all the encouragement you need. you bob your head faster, your own moans muffled by the cock in your throat.

you watch his face the entire time. you love to see his pretty flushed cheeks. and the whimpers? fuck, you wish you could record them for later.

his hips lift off the bed, thrusting more of his dick down your throat. your cheeks go hollow as you suck as much of him in as you can.

"shit – mm, god – 'm gonna cum soon."

you dig your blunt fingernails into his thighs and bob your head a little faster. that's all it takes. his lower stomach tenses and his body stills as you feel warm spurts of cum hit the roof of your mouth and back of your throat.

you swallow every drop, not even minding the salty and bitter taste coating your tongue. you slowly pull off and press a soft kiss to his tip. you crawl up the bed and lay down next to chris, watching as he comes down from his high.

"was that okay?" you ask, trying to distract yourself from the wetness and need pulsing between your own thighs.

"jesus fuck." he laughs, still trying to catch his breath. "more than okay. that was.. so fucking good."

"but.. next time.. i wanna taste you."

[writesvani]

down low | 05

SUMMARY: There's no love, there are no fights with Jungkook—just a twisted addiction that keeps you crawling back. You tell yourselves it’s not toxic. After all, you never argue, never get jealous. Just fuck, lie, and slip back into the arms of the people who will never know.

It’s not love.

But it sure as hell isn’t nothing.

friends with benefits au, situationship au

TRIGGER WARNINGS: SIGHS... angst, smut, toxic relationship dynamics, explicit sexual content, fingering, making out, rough sex, degrading language, emotional manipulation, jealousy, cheating, emotionally distant parents, family issues, intense arguments, verbal fighting, guilt, shame, humiliation, physical fighting (boxing!!), mentions and descriptions of bruises, blood and injuries (boxing), humiliation

comment here for the Down Low taglist;

SERIES M.LIST;

— previous chapter // next chapter (pending...)

wc: 5,7k // date: 24th of July 2025

CHAPTER FIVE — No Warning; happy reading my gummies...

AN (important, please read): down low 5 is finally out. yeah, yeah, i know. i ghosted you. i left you starving. dehydrated. emotionally unwell. but guess what? i’m back and i brought the chaos with me. thank you for being disgustingly patient while i took 84 years to drop this chapter. love u for that.

now. fair warning: this chapter doesn’t just escalate — it violently skyrockets. we go from 0 to what the fuck is going on in under 0.3 seconds. no brakes, no safety belt. just vibes, filth, angst, and emotional whiplash.

this chapter? she’s important. she’s plot-core. she’s character-arc-central. she’s lowkey the real beginning of down low. fun fact: this was actually the first chapter i ever started writing for the fic (yes. i am chaotic), but i only now dug her up, stitched her together like frankenstein, and unleashed her on you. because i’m evil. and because i wanted you to stew in the earlier character dynamics before i ruined your lives.

also yes, cliffhanger alert. i’m not even sorry. we all love a little mystery. pain builds character. <3

last thing: thank you for the insane love and support on this fic so far. you guys are actually unwell and i adore you for it. note goal for this chapter is 800 because i believe in us. i believe in your horny little fingers. let’s GO.

THIS IS A REPOST! because guess what? i posted this chapter last night like a FOOL… without hashtags. just raw dogging the algorithm. bare. exposed. no protection. anyway here it is again, now with hashtags so tumblr doesn’t pretend it doesn’t exist. pls pretend to be surprised when you read it

The dim light cloaks the restaurant in a rich, velvety shadow, the burgundy walls pressing in close like a heavy curtain. Across the table, your parents sit straight-backed, their eyes briefly flicking toward Taehyung with quiet approval.

Next to you, Taehyung leans in with effortless grace. His hair is slicked back with absolute precision, each strand perfectly in place, revealing the sharp line of his jaw and dark eyes that catch the candlelight like polished onyx. His black suit is tailored to perfection—crisp lines, smooth fabric, the kind of expensive fit that looks like it was made just for him.

Every motion he makes is deliberate and controlled—the soft tap of his fingers on the table, the slow tilt of his head, the way his shoes rest clean and unscuffed beneath him. The faint scent of his cologne mingles subtly with the warm air, adding to the carefully crafted image of flawlessness.

The quiet murmur of strangers and clinking glasses fades into the background as you sit beside him, caught in the pull of his polished presence—like a perfectly carved statue brought to life.

You like that about Taehyung. With your parents, he’s the flawless gentleman—perfect clothes, polished manners, and most importantly, the kind of pedigree they respect. But when he’s with you, all that falls away. He’s the funny, easygoing Taehyung—the one in dark jeans and a simple black shirt, flashing that boxy smile, cracking dumb jokes just to make you laugh.

Taehyung knows how to switch effortlessly between those worlds, and that adaptability makes him almost impossible to resist. He’s comfortable in every room, every role—effortlessly charming, impossibly steady. But still, beneath the laughter and the tailored suits, there’s something missing. Something unspoken that makes your chest tighten whenever you look at him.

It’s not that he isn’t enough. It’s that he’s too safe. Too perfect. Like a beautifully wrapped gift you’re afraid to open because what’s inside might not match the outside. And maybe, just maybe, you crave the maddness—the mess, the rough edges, the danger you can’t quite tame.

Maybe it’s the echo of that bathroom you need — how the walls were too thin, and the music too loud to drown out your gasps. Maybe it’s the way the cold tile bit into your spine while Jungkook’s hands gripped your hips like he was claiming you. No pretense. No performance. Just breath and heat and teeth.

Maybe you crave the way he touched you like he wasn’t supposed to. Like you were his, even if just for ten minutes behind a locked door and a fogged-up mirror. Jimin’s party still rings in your ears even a week later — the bassline thudding in your chest as you bit your lip hard enough to bleed, praying no one recognized your shoes beneath the stall.

He never looked at you like you were delicate.

He didn’t ask.

He just took.

And maybe that’s the part that lingers.

Because Taehyung doesn’t touch you like that. He holds your waist like it’s glass. He undresses you like he’s been told to.

Polite.

Practiced.

Predictable.

And lately, not at all.

So now, as you sit at a dinner table surrounded by expectations and crystal glasses and the weight of your parents’ dreams, your mind betrays you. Your body remembers.

Remembers the way Jungkook groaned your name like it hurt to hold it in.

Remembers the ache, the stretch, the mess.

It’s not love.

Maybe it’s not even desire.

Maybe it’s just the silence he left you in.

The kind that echoes louder than music.

Louder than guilt.

Louder than the polite laugh you give Taehyung as he tells your father a story.

Because Jungkook didn’t even text.

Didn’t say thank you, or sorry, or see you around.

He just left you—wrecked and ruined—still trying to catch your breath as the bathroom door swung shut behind him.

And still…

Your thighs clench when you think about him.

Even now.

Especially now.

Because the worst part?

You're not even sure if it's the high you're chasing.

Or if you just want him to do it again.

“Taehyung, you’re such a darling for offering to pay for the trip,” your mother says, smiling like she’s already picturing the family Christmas card on a white-sand beach. Her eyes scan over him — the tailored blazer, the neatly styled hair, the Rolex glinting on his wrist. He’s every bit the son-in-law they prayed for.

Taehyung laughs, warm and easy, slipping his hand over yours under the table like it’s second nature. Like he rehearsed this too. “Nonsense, Mrs. It’s the first time we’re traveling together,” he says, glancing at you with soft, affectionate eyes. “I want to make it special.”

“Oh, Tae,” your father chuckles. “You're spoiling her.”

“She deserves it,” Taehyung says without missing a beat. His thumb brushes against the back of your hand — too light, too gentle. You wish you could feel it.

You smile, but it’s hollow. You can’t remember the last time you felt spoiled.

Or special.

Or even like yourself.

“So Maldives?” your mother asks, eyes darting between you and Taehyung, searching for that picture-perfect couple moment she can retell to her friends. “Y/N, do you agree?”

You blink, caught. “Sorry, what?”

Taehyung lets out a soft laugh. “She’s been studying too hard lately. Her brain’s still in lecture halls.”

“More like she’s daydreaming,” your father jokes.

If only they knew. About the party. The bathroom. The fucking silence afterward. About how sometimes, when Taehyung kisses you, all you taste is someone else’s mouth. Someone who didn’t ask for permission. Someone who ruined you without trying.

You force a smile. “Yeah. Maldives sounds perfect.”

Taehyung leans in, voice low, for your ears only. “We’ll get a villa. One with a private pool.”

His hand squeezes yours, and your mother swoons like he just proposed.

But all you can think of is how Jungkook didn’t need a villa. Just a locked door, a dark corner, and the way your thighs trembled when he said your name like a secret.

When Taehyung drops you off, it’s like exhaling for the first time in hours — like a weight you didn’t realize you were carrying finally tumbles off your chest. The silence of your apartment greets you like an old friend, and for once, you don’t have to smile. You don’t have to sit pretty, play perfect, laugh at jokes you didn’t hear because your head’s been somewhere else.

You’re home. Alone.

And all you want to do is scream. Or cry. Or call Jungkook and ask what the fuck his silence is supposed to mean.

Not that you’d actually do it. No, instead, you’ll just sit here, seething with the frustration of being ignored by someone who never even promised you anything. You'll stew in it while Taehyung — golden, sweet — plans your three-week getaway to the Maldives.

Three weeks.

Three fucking weeks without Jungkook.

Without the rough hands that never ask.

The sharp mouth that never apologizes.

The dark eyes that make you feel dirty and alive.

You should be excited. Beaches, cocktails, matching swimsuits and Instagram photos. But instead, your first thought is: how the hell will you survive three weeks without getting fucked by the man who won’t even text you back?

You curl up on the sofa, knees drawn to your chest, thumb lazily scrolling through TikTok like muscle memory. The screen’s glow kisses your face in the dim living room light, and your palms are annoyingly sweaty — clammy against your phone, like your body knows something your brain hasn't caught up to yet.

You take a sip of tea. It’s lukewarm now, but it glides down your throat and settles heavily in your stomach. A sigh escapes your lips as you rub at your temples, overwhelmed by the cluster of videos your friends sent while you were busy pretending you’re fine.

Lara’s name sits near the top of your inbox, the number next to her chat unreadably high. If you don’t respond — again — she’s going to go on another rant about how you "never watch the videos she sends," like that’s some kind of friendship betrayal.

So, out of guilt or boredom — maybe both — you click the chat open.

It’s the usual stuff: memes you’d usually laugh at, a few chaotic Italian brain rot clips, a "get ready with me" where the girl does her makeup like she’s on trial, and one of those influencer exposé voiceovers Lara lives for.

You’re about to half-heartedly reply with a crying emoji when your thumb pauses.

There’s a new video. One she normally wouldn’t send.

The preview is dark, grainy.

And right bellow it is her text: “girl, look at this.”

Your stomach drops.

Your pulse flickers.

And your thumb hovers for a second too long before you tap the screen and press play.

It's a grainy, handheld footage of a boxing match. The caption reads “this man fought like he had revenge in his bones” and there’s a messy zoom on the fighter’s face.

Your breath catches.

It’s him.

The camera pans wildly, barely keeping up with the rapid movements. Jungkook’s in the ring, sweat-drenched, jaw bruised, hair matted to his forehead. He looks mean — not just focused, mean. Like he’s punishing someone. Or maybe himself.

He gets hit. Hard. A hook to the ribs, then a clean uppercut that snaps his head back. The crowd roars.

He stumbles.

You flinch.

The TikTok cuts to another angle — someone screaming in the background — and you catch a close-up of Jungkook’s mouth, split at the corner. Blood. He spits it out with a smirk, eyes dark and burning.

Another hit. He staggers.

The person filming gasps, “oh my god, he’s gonna lose.”

But then — something shifts.

His body resets. Feet find the rhythm again. One breath. Two. Then he lunges forward, like something snapped inside him, and starts swinging like he’s got nothing left to lose. Like the fight means more than pride. Like he needs to win to stay alive.

The final few seconds are a blur of movement, fists flying — and then the opponent’s on the ground.

The ref’s hand shoots up. The bell rings.

He won.

The video ends on a frame of Jungkook standing over the other guy, chest heaving, blood on his knuckles and mouth, and this sick, victorious smile twisting his face.

The TikTok ends.

And your stomach is twisting in the same shape his smile made.

You stare at your phone for a few seconds, frozen. The TikTok loops in your hands — the footage of him in the ring, hunched, bloodied, stumbling as fists rain down on him. Your brows furrow as you watch again. And again. You swallow thickly.

It’s weird… seeing him like that. Vulnerable. Slower than usual. Less cocky. Less him.

You shouldn’t care. He’s not your boyfriend. Hell, he’s not even really your friend. He’s just— an escape. A brief release from everything that weighs you down. The pressure. Your parents’ expectations. The suffocating need to always be perfect. Jungkook is the antithesis of all that— chaotic, impulsive, easy. He’s not supposed to matter.

And yet… seeing him like that, chest heaving, bloodied and almost breaking—only to push through and win in the end—

It makes your stomach twist.

It makes you feel something.

Worried. And you hate yourself for it.

You hate the part of you that wanted to reach through the screen and pull him out. The part that wonders if he’s okay. The part that remembers the bruise on his collarbone from last time and imagines it now doubled, spreading down his ribs.

You hate yourself even more when you find your feet moving on their own, slipping into your shoes, pulling on your coat, like you’re not even in control of your own body anymore.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

He could be with Eunji. Or his friends. Or God knows who. You haven’t heard from him since the night you fucked at Jimin’s house, for fucks sake, and that silence should’ve meant something. Maybe he’s done with you. Maybe it’s over.

And still, here you are.

Rushing.

Running.

Telling yourself it’s just sex. Just curiosity. Just—who’s gonna fuck you like that if he ends up in a hospital bed? Taehyung? Please. He doesn’t even pull your hair right.

It’s not that deep.

You repeat it again, like a chant, as you duck into the backseat of a cab.

It’s not that deep.

You don’t care.

You’re just going to check if the man who ruined you with his mouth and silence is still breathing.

That’s all.

Right?

The cab ride feels longer than usual. Every red light drags. Every turn makes your knee bounce harder. You check your phone four times, rereading the DM even though there’s nothing new. He hasn’t posted anything since. No messages. No stories. No stupid thirst traps of him half-sweaty after practice.

Nothing.

You hate that it bothers you.

You hate that your heart picks up the second the building comes into view. You hate that you even know his building. That you have the goddamn keycode memorized.

You don’t hesitate when you punch it in. The door buzzes and opens like it’s been waiting for you.

Like you belong here.

You don’t.

The hallway is quiet. You walk quickly, like you’re scared someone might see you. Like guilt could be caught on surveillance cameras.

When you knock, there’s no answer.

Your heart drops.

You try again, a little firmer this time. Then you press your ear to the door, hating how desperate it feels. How pathetic. But then—faintly—you hear something.

Shuffling.

A thud.

And then the lock clicks.

The door opens just a crack, and there he is.

Shirtless, bruised, towel wrapped around his waist. Hair wet. Eyes sleepy and bloodshot. He blinks at you like he can’t tell if you’re real or not.

“What the fuck,” he rasps.

You swallow. “Are you okay?”

He stares at you for a long moment, then pushes the door open wider. “You came all the way here to ask that?”

You ignore the jab. Your eyes flick down his torso, to the bruise blooming across his ribs. Purple, angry. “You didn’t answer my texts.”

“You sent, like, two.”

“It’s been a week, Jungkook.”

“So?”

So?

You could scream.

You walk past him without waiting for an invitation. The apartment smells like sweat and him. A protein bar wrapper’s on the floor. A bloody towel hangs over the back of a chair.

He shuts the door and leans against it, watching you.

You don’t know what to say. You don’t know why you’re here. Why you care. Why your throat’s so tight, like the silence between you is physically pressing on it.

He walks past you, limping slightly.

You notice.

You hate that you notice.

“So you just ghost people now?” you ask, voice sharp to hide how raw it feels.

He shrugs, grabbing a bottle of water from the kitchen. “Didn’t think you’d care.”

“I don’t.”

“Cool.”

You hate him.

You hate him for being calm while you’re spiraling. You hate that he looks at you like he already knows everything you’re thinking.

And you hate that he’s right.

“I just saw the video,” you mutter.

“Yeah. It went viral.”

“You got your ass handed to you.”

He snorts. “Still won.”

You shake your head, pacing. “You’re so fucking—reckless.”

He raises an eyebrow. “That why you’re here? To scold me?”

You meet his gaze.

“No,” you say firmly, arms crossed so tightly it feels like you’re holding yourself together. “As I said, I’m here because you weren’t replying to my texts.”

Jungkook scoffs under his breath, slumping back onto the couch like he owns the damn room. He winces, just barely, as he shifts his weight — his thigh, maybe his ribs — something’s clearly sore. You notice. And you hate that you do.

“Wow,” he says, voice coated in sarcasm, “didn’t know I was legally required to answer you.”

You narrow your eyes, walking past his coffee table like you hate it and stand infront of him. “You’re not. Still weird though. Ghosting me for a week when we literally had your mouth on me a few days ago.”

His lips twitch at that, not quite a smile, more of a smirk that’s soaked in ego and something darker. “Oh, so you miss me now?”

You scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“You showed up at my door.”

“You could’ve been dead!”

He leans forward then, elbows on his knees, the cocky glint in his eyes dimming just enough for something more real to creep in. “But you didn’t think to just call and ask if I was alive?”

“Oh, right, sorry,” you shoot back, tilting your head mockingly, “I forgot you don’t only answer calls from Eunji.”

He flinches, just barely. A hit. You pretend not to notice — he pretends it didn’t happen.

“She’s not the one banging someone behind her boyfriend’s back,” he mutters.

“And you’re not the one crawling into my bed, instead of hers, whenever you lose a fight? Please.” You laugh, humorless. “Don’t act like you’re some moral compass now.”

His jaw tightens. Yours does too. For a moment, neither of you speak — the air between you thick with resentment and tension and something hot, something burning just beneath your skin.

He shifts again. The sound of fabric moving against his bruised body is quiet, but you hear it. You imagine the ache, the bruises, the adrenaline still echoing in his muscles. You shouldn’t care. You shouldn't care.

But his towel rides up slightly as he leans back. There’s a flash of skin, a swollen mark on his ribcage — purple and angry and so goddamn real. And your breath hitches.

He notices.

“What?” he asks, his voice lower now.

“Nothing,” you snap, eyes dragging away from his body. “Just didn’t expect to find you alive and still a dick.”

His laugh is short, bitter. “You didn’t have to come.”

“I didn’t,” you say. “But I did. So what does that say?”

He holds your gaze, and for a second, it feels like something might crack. You’re not sure if it’s his resolve or your self-control.

You cross your arms, blocking the TV. “I said something.”

Jungkook doesn’t even look up. “Unfortunately.”

“Funny,” you snap. “I don’t remember you having this much attitude when you were getting your face smashed in.”

He finally glances at you — smug. “You mean when I won?”

“Oh please,” you scoff. “Barely. You limped back here like someone’s grandpa.”

“And yet,” he leans back, arms spreading across the couch lazily, “I’m the one who walked away standing.”

“That guy was, like, half your size.”

He shrugs. “He fell hard enough.”

You roll your eyes so hard they nearly leave your skull. “You’re actually insufferable.”

“You’ve said that before.”

“And it keeps being true.”

“You’re still here, though,” he says, tilting his head. “Kinda makes me think you like it.”

Your jaw clenches. “I came to make sure you weren’t dead, not to flirt.”

“Who said this is flirting?”

“You, apparently.”

He stands now — slow and deliberate — and closes the space between you in just a few strides. You hate how your breath catches. Hate it.

“I think you’re projecting again,” he says, low, that stupid smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

You glare up at him. “You think everything’s about you.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No,” you hiss. “You’re not that special.”

His eyes drop to your lips for one second too long.

“Sure I’m not.”

Your body tenses. Your brain screams. But you stay frozen.

“You’re such a—”

“Say it,” he taunts. “C’mon. Let it out.”

You push him.

It’s not hard — just enough to make him take a step back. His grin widens.

“Touchy.”

“Fuck you,” you snap.

He raises an eyebrow. “You offering?”

You gasp like you might explode. “You’re so—”

“What? Hot? Annoying? Right?”

“Unbearable.”

“But you still came back.”

You inhale sharply, chest rising and falling too fast. “Only because—”

“Say it,” he mocks. “Say you wanted to see me.”

“I wanted to make sure you weren’t out there bleeding to death in some alley, dumbass. Don’t flatter yourself.”

A pause.

A beat.

Then he steps forward again. Close. Closer.

“You’re really bad at lying,” he murmurs.

Your stomach flips. You hate that it flips.

You refuse to move.

“I’m really good at hating you,” you whisper.

His eyes flick down again. “Show me, then.”

And that is where it ends — because if anyone leans in first, it sure as hell won’t be you.

And of course, it’s never you. You’re stronger than that. It’s always him.

Jungkook leans in slow, breath hot against your skin before his lips ghost over yours—soft, teasing, nothing like the brutal, desperate kisses you’re used to. This kiss is a trap, slow and deliberate, coaxing you to drop every shield you’ve built up. Your body melts before your mind can even catch up.

Your hands slam up against his face, gripping his jaw like it’s the only thing holding you together. His skin is slick with sweat, warm and real beneath your trembling fingers.

Then his teeth snag your lower lip, biting just hard enough to claim it, to make you whimper into the kiss. His eyes snap open—dark, raw, and charged—piercing straight through you.

“See,” he growls against your mouth, voice thick and low, “at the end of the day, you always come for me.”

You try to push away with your words, breath shaky. “No, I don’t.”

But your hands are tangled in his damp hair, pulling him closer, and his hands shove your hips, pressing you so tight you can feel every inch of him.

Your fingers slide down, ghosting over the thin fabric of his towel—the only thing left between you and skin so hot it burns your fingertips.

You smirk, voice dripping with challenge. “Mighty Jeon Jungkook gets hard just from a kiss? You’re such a fucking pussy.”

A savage grin twists his lips. “Baby, I’ve been hard since you walked through that door. Hell, you don’t even have to touch me, and I’m already drowning in you.”

His hand snakes under your shirt, fingers curling against your bare skin, and you shudder as the heat from his touch spreads.

“Fuck,” he rasps, voice thick with need, “you’re mine tonight. No pretending.”

You bite your lip, heat blooming low in your belly. “Then show me.”

Suddenly, his mouth is everywhere — dragging hot, open-mouthed kisses down the sharp line of your jaw, across the flush of your cheek, to the soft, exposed column of your throat. He devours you like he’s starving and you’re the only thing he’s ever craved. Jeon Jungkook swallows you whole with the kind of desperation that feels dangerous.

His hands are greedy on your body, flying to grip the swell of your ass, squeezing hard enough to bruise through your jeans. He doesn't give a shit that the fabric’s in the way — he palms you like he owns every inch underneath it. His lips never stop moving, never stop tasting, even as he’s backing you up, slow and relentless, guiding you deeper into his apartment until the backs of your knees hit—

A bed?

You freeze for a second. His bed. He never takes you here. Never fucks you in this room, like it's sacred — or forbidden. Living room, bathroom, kitchen counter — fine. But not here.

It doesn’t matter.

Not when he’s kissing you like this. Not when your nails are clawing down his chest, scraping over every ridge of muscle until they reach the edge of that towel hanging so loosely on his hips it’s a miracle it stayed up this long.

You tug it off with no hesitation.

It hits the floor with a muted thump, and suddenly he’s naked in front of you. All bronzed skin and bruises from that fight, muscles taut and flexing as he stares you down. He’s breathing hard. His cock is already thick, flushed, leaking.

He’s so fucking yours in this moment it makes your knees weak.

His tongue plunges into your mouth again, deeper this time, messier, more possessive. You moan into him, fists curling into his shoulders like you might fall through the floor if you let go.

“Look at you,” he growls, dragging your shirt over your head without even asking, tossing it somewhere behind him. “All mouth ‘til I get my hands on you.”

You glare, but it’s pathetic. Breathless. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Yeah?” he breathes, voice thick with heat. “Still wanna fight me, baby? Or do you just wanna get fucked stupid?”

Your only answer is a whimper when his fingers brush your nipple through your bra. Just the slightest graze — and still, your head tips back, lips parting as you gasp like he’s already inside you.

He chuckles darkly.

“Thought so.”

His hands slide into your hair, grip tightening until he has you gasping again, pulling your head back just enough to give him more skin to work with. His teeth drag over the delicate line of your neck, your collarbone, down to the curve of your breast. He doesn’t bite. Not yet. Just lets his canines scrape along your skin, hard enough to make you squirm.

“Still pretending you hate me?” he murmurs against your chest. “Even now?”

You want to scream. You want to slap him. You want him to never fucking stop.

And he knows it.

Jungkook throws you onto the bed like he’s starved and you’re the only thing that can feed him. His body cages yours instantly, breath hot and heavy, eyes dark with something primal. He doesn’t waste a second—shoves your bra up with one rough motion, not even bothering to take it off. His hand is already on your chest, fingers claiming your nipples like he owns them, pinching and rolling them with wicked purpose.

You cry out, arching into him, the heat between your legs pulsing, desperate.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters under his breath, voice low, rough, feral. “You get off on this, don’t you?” He leans down, lips brushing your neck, tongue teasing your skin before he nips it just hard enough to make you gasp. “You like being used. My little toy. All soft and perfect and dripping for me.”

You whimper, thighs already trembling, your whole body betraying just how much you love it.

He sits back just enough to yank your jeans down, shoving them past your hips with one hand, his movements ungraceful and frantic—like every second you’re not bare beneath him is agony. The denim catches on your thighs before he rips it down, tossing it somewhere behind him. He doesn’t stop to admire. His attention goes straight to the slick spot soaking through your panties.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, eyes locked on the ruined fabric. “So fucking wet, and I haven’t even touched you properly.” His thumb presses against your clit over the damp cotton, slow and deliberate. You jerk, breath hitching, and he grins like a wolf. “You want to cum like this? Just from me rubbing you through your panties like a needy little slut?”

“Maybe,” you whisper, teasing, but your hips already chase the pressure, traitorous and desperate.

“You don’t even know what you’re asking for,” he growls, and his voice is silk wrapped around violence—low, intimate, dangerous. “I’ll make you scream so loud the neighbors learn our names.”

His fingers move in slow, punishing circles, pressing into your clit through the soaked material, the rhythm maddening. “Look at you. Writhing. So fucking pretty when you fall apart. And all for me.”

You moan into his mouth as he kisses you again, tongue licking into you like he’s trying to devour you, like he’s starved for every inch of you—like his kiss is just the prelude to what he really wants to do. His other hand cradles the back of your neck, possessive, grounding, while he ruins you from below with practiced hands.

It’s overwhelming—his scent, his voice, his touch. You feel everything, too much, the edge getting closer, burning brighter—

Until the shrill buzz of a phone slices through it.

You try to ignore it. You kiss him harder, grind down on his hand like maybe if you keep moving, keep moaning, it’ll go away.

But it rings again. And again. Relentless.

Jungkook curses under his breath, jaw clenched as he pulls back just slightly. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” His fingers retreat slowly from your body, and you whine at the loss, your skin already missing him.

He reaches for the phone like it personally insulted him, eyes still on you, dark and hungry. “Who the fuck keeps calling?” he mutters, voice thick with the threat of what he’ll do once he’s done answering. And judging by the way he looks at you, he’s nowhere near done.

But then… his eyes flick to the phone screen, and something shifts. Subtle. Sharp. Like the air between you two drops ten degrees.

He stills.

His body’s weight is still above yours, the heat of him still so there—but the movement has vanished. His gaze is pinned to the caller ID like it holds a loaded gun.

And suddenly, you’re not the only thing unraveling.

You furrow your brows, breath still heaving, skin flushed, your bra askew and nipples tingling from his touch. “What is it?” you whisper, confused, eyes darting between his face and the glowing screen.

“I gotta take this,” he mutters—voice low, but tight. Off. His body peels off of yours like the last five minutes didn’t just happen, like he hadn’t had his fingers buried between your thighs, like he hadn’t called you his slut while coaxing you toward oblivion.

You sit up slowly, your chest still rising and falling, the taste of him still on your tongue.

He pauses at the doorway, throws you a glance over his shoulder, finger to his lips like you’re some dirty secret to keep quiet.

And then he disappears.

You’re left there. Half-naked. Half-wrecked. Fully confused.

Is it Eunji? No… no, it can’t be. If it were her, he’d either ignore the call like always… or hell, maybe even answer it while still making you cum with his fingers shoved inside you. He’s done it before.

But this—this is different.

You strain to hear. Try to eavesdrop. But all you catch is a faint, clipped, “What?” and the sound of pacing, the steady thud of his feet against hardwood.

Your pulse pounds in your ears. Your thighs are still sticky. Your heart, a little heavier.

You wait.

And wait.

And wait.

It goes on for minutes. Muffled cursing, the sound of frantic pacing, the creak of the floorboards under his bare feet. You can feel the tension flooding the apartment, thick and electric, wrapping around your chest like a fucking noose. But you still have no idea what’s going on.

Then he appears in the doorway — chest heaving, jaw tight, still naked, still glistening from what he did to you moments ago. “You have to leave,” he says. His voice isn’t soft. It’s carved from stone.

“What?” You blink. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You gotta go. Now.” He’s already moving, fast and frantic, picking your shirt off the floor and tossing it onto the bed like it’s on fire. Your jeans follow. He’s at his closet next, dragging out clothes like he wants to erase everything. Like you were never here.

“Are you serious right now?” you hiss, yanking your top over your head. “You had your fingers on my pussy like ten minutes ago, Jungkook.”

He stops for a second. Just one. His eyes are closed, brows drawn tight like he’s bracing for a hit. And something in your chest twists violently.

Because suddenly it feels like you lost something. And you don’t even know what it was.

“Put your fucking clothes on and get out,” he snaps. He’s shoving his legs into his sweatpants like he’s punishing himself. “Don’t call me. Don’t text. Don’t come back here again. Ever.”

You freeze. And then everything inside you erupts. “Fuck you,” you spit. “I don’t ever want to see your face again, you fucking asshole.”

“Perfect,” he sneers, marching after you. “That’s the best thing you’ve ever said.”

You spin on your heel, half-dressed, heart slamming against your ribs. “I wish you all the worst. Literally.”

“Thanks,” he says coldly, watching you like a ghost.

And then you walk out. Or stumble. You can’t even feel your legs. Behind you, the door slams shut without a second of hesitation.

So you run. Down the hall, down the stairs, across the damn street. You don’t care if people stare, if your hair’s a mess, if your shirt’s on backwards. You don’t care if your eyes are glassy, if your lip’s trembling, if the shame is written all over your face like graffiti he carved into you.

You’re humiliated.

Disgusted.

Disposed of without a reason.

It’s like a phone call flipped a switch in him. Like you were never real to begin with. Like everything that happened just minutes ago—your name falling off his lips like prayer, the way he touched you like he owned you—was a hallucination. Something you made up. Some dream you’re now being violently shaken awake from.

You don’t even want to know why. You tell yourself you don’t. Knowing would mean there was something to hold on to. Some string to pull. And you’re done pulling.

You walk like you’re being chased by the ghost of what could’ve been. Like every step away from his apartment is a knife dragging through your chest.

And when you make it to the end of the block—finally, finally—you stop. Your breath catches. Not because you’re tired, not because you’re cold.

But because it hits you.

He didn’t just kick you out of his place.

He kicked you out of his life.

And you—god, you almost...

You stare at the pavement, swallowing the scream that’s stuck in your throat. And then, fists clenched, you whisper it under your breath like a curse and a prayer all at once:

“I swear to fucking god—I am never, ever talking to him again.”

And this time, you fucking mean it.

taglist pt. 2: @mochi13 @wobblewobble822 @jkvamp @sunnikthv @whoa-jo @kimyishin @asyr97 @pjmname @shesscorpio7 @daarla07 @jeontids @bellefaerie @kissyfacekoo @lily-lilacsky @bammbi-jeon127 @httpjeonlicious @belleilichil @minghaosimp @marrtyaa @livluvsjungkook @leahsummms @septemberskies @yok00k @ioanatodorova @rokshi @b2407 @boommoom @kookienooki @indyuhhhhhh @avawants2havefun @bhonbhon @taekritimin123 @ana-marais98 @deeznutkooks @oraiseok @thenamesathy @superchamchi88 @lenamercedesworld @candygalx @notsevenwithyou @heesuvk @ggukieshoe @ahgasegotarmy116 @jeonsinsatiablekitten @saki-gojo @piratekingateez2001 @0-0rot @bangatanily

[shotmrmiller]

Simon doesn't care how he comes. He doesn't care if it's your smaller hand wrapped around his fattened cock, tugging it with a gentle twist, smearing the bead of arousal that's welled up from his slit with your thumb. Doesn't care that he usually fucks his fist roughly after a hard day's work with blood still crusted on his fingernails, hard enough to ache. The way you sit beside him, the soft swell of your breasts pressed against the corded muscle of his arm, murmuring words of praise that have his cheeks alight with a rosy glow—

He doesn't care if you use your mouth (you asked, ofc) your mouth is warm around him, the gummy inside of your cheeks slippery— the constricting back of your throat even more so. He sits still, like a good boy, not bucking his hips up, not pushing your head down to take as much of him as you can.

Doesn't care if you make him fuck your thighs— intercrural, you'd called it. How could he when your soft thighs are so smooth and pliable, enveloping his leaky cock with their warmth? Certainly doesn't mind when he glides his head along your slick folds, occasionally catching your swollen clit, hearing your little sharp intakes of breath.

Simon doesn't care where he comes, either. If it's a hand job, he spurts hot, viscous pleasure onto his pudgy stomach, coating the dark trail of hair below his navel and making a mess of your hand. (If you lick his come off your fingers, he's asking you to grow old with him asap)

If it's a blow job, he'll give you a heads-up with a rumbled, "'m, close, so close—" and that's your cue to either pull away, let him paint your cheeks with his spend, or swallow every single drop. (Or let it drip onto his jeans, none of it matters just don't stop)

He'll slicken your inner thighs with his sticky cum, scoop up some of it with his callused fingers, and slather it over your puffy pussy, using it as lube to rub you to completion.

So, when you casually ask him how he feels about a breeding kink as if you were commenting on the weather, his heart threatens to burst out of his chest. Are you asking him for a kid?

But you don't notice how his pupils dilate a fraction or how the skin around his eyes tightens, the corners forming small creases as you continue. "Because I'd been thinking," a small pause, "to spice things up a little—" before he even gets a word in, you raise your hands up in a calming gesture. "Not like there's anything wrong with what we're doing now."

There's a subtle shake to your hands and the grooves of your palms catch the light. Sweaty. You're nervous. This isn't just about him filling you with his cum. He's already done that before— pressed his tip right into your swollen entrance mere moments before finishing. he lets you gather your thoughts, unsnag the words caught in your throat.

And when you finally steel your nerves and say what you want to say (garble, more like) the shrill ringing in his ears is deafening. "You wan' me to wear a rubber 'nd let you take it off." Had he misheard?

The way your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, gaze lowered to the ground, your fingers twisting and turning, uncertain. So he hadn't. Well. How could he say no? Granted, he doesn't understand it, but for his girl? Anything.

He comes to understand it the very first time it happens.

Rolling on the rubber hadn't been different. nor the way he gently stretched you with one finger, two. The spit he'd used as lube to cause you as little discomfort as possible mingling with your own slick, dripping down his rugged knuckles. He takes his time as always, slipping between your spread thighs, watching your face twist, kiss-swollen lips part as he sinks into your heat. He goes slow, hearing you hiss between your teeth, your blunt nails sinking into his chest. He'll have red, angry welts later alongside his dog tags. Claimed by both duty and his little love. "Marked like property," he'd joked once.

You hadn't found it so funny. (Johnny got it though.)

Even with the very small difference in sensation, you're still the best thing he's ever felt. You take him like you're meant for him and maybe you are, but he smothers that train of thought quickly with a heavy hand lest he finish when the fun's just begun.

He feels you shift, even with his body weight that presses down on you with the gravity of a boulder, and he sinks to the root— like a pebble falling into still waters. Your nails tear skin, draw blood. The biting sting of it sends a shiver that sweeps over his goosepimpled skin, arousal tangling in his spine. He bucks his hips in reflex, hard enough to jolt you upward. The discomfort on your face quickly melts away, the sweetened burn of his thick cock prying your tender walls apart finally bleeding into white-hot pleasure.

Simon thrusts again, this time deliberately. Again. And again. He keeps them shallow, dragging the ribbed edges of the condom along your sensitive nerves, gently trying to coax a lazy orgasm out of you— the ones that always leave you syrupy and warm.

He focuses on you. Swirls your peaked nipples with his thumb, nestles his face in the crook of your neck, warm breath fanning over your heated skin. Simon licks a hot stripe over your fluttering pulse, presses a chaste kiss on it, nips your sensitive skin with a little too much pressure when you squeeze down around him—

Cheeky minx.

He snaps his hips, hard enough to rattle your spine, hard enough to hear the way the oxygen is ripped from your lungs. Simon keeps at it, resolute in getting you to the edge, dragging you with him, taking you over.

And then he hears you slur out a couple of words through your gasps. "C'ndom," you mewl, "the condom, off."

Right. He peels himself off of you. He'd almost forgotten —

You're impatient, pushing him away with your bare feet on his chest until he pulls out with a pop, trembling fingers reaching his twitching cock. The rubber comes off after a moment and while he's distracted by the creamy slick coating it, you're already putting him back in you, and your cunt feels sublime.

Divinity. He feels intoxicated.

The pleasure he felt before feels muted now, in comparison. Dull, almost. You feel hot, almost burning— swallowing him up, wet, so wet. The way your walls flutter around him jumbles his thoughts, tangles his tongue. He grinds down onto you with grit teeth, nostrils flared as he tries to keep the searing coil in his gut from unspooling, but he fears it's a losing battle. Beads of sweat roll down the side of his face as he fucks into your tight cunt with a hunger that borders on desperation.

He can see, and hear, that it's different for you too. Your keens and mewls are loud, nails scoring trails of red down his back. Simon leans back a bit, enough to let you watch his cock split you open, strings of sticky arousal connecting between you two. When he changes angle, aiming for your (and his) favorite spot with precision, the squeal you let out stiffens his spine.

Simon needs to hear it again. He grabs you by the cheeks, forcing you to look at him with those pretty, glassy eyes that glimmer with tears. Saliva pools in his mouth at the thought of tasting salt. "Like tha'?" The delicate strands of your eyelashes are clumped together with overwhelming sensation.

When you don't answer, he gives your hood a gentle tap, striking right above your clit. "I asked you a question." He grunts when your pussy almost strangles his cock at his gravelly tone. Simon will remember that for later.

"Yes," you breathe. "Yes, god, just like that." As a reward, he uses his thumb to draw tight little circles over your pearl, fucking you with his full weight behind every thrust. The blissful expression on your features, spit glistening in the corner of your lips, your hand flat, fingers spread wide over your lower belly as if to feel him from the outside— it's enough to almost toss him over that crumbling edge.

But he takes more. Selfish, greedy. Takes what's his with fervor; wholly, unapologetically. "This," he pushes until he can go no more, his tip meeting a firm resistance, "is better than everythin' I've ever had." Maybe it's a stupid thing to say, right here when he's rearranging your guts around to make room for his fat cock, but he's drunk off of you.

There's no thinking clearly with the slick noises echoing in the stuffy room. There's no seeing clearly when his world has narrowed to a single point of contact.

You're squeezing around him like a vise, tight enough that his nerve endings prick with pain. But he keeps going. He takes, he gives, he yearns to watch you unfurl at the edges forever, on his fingertips, on his tongue, his cock but you—

You are both his ecstasy and ruin. He can see it in the way the corners of your pretty mouth curl upward, teasing, eyes glinting with mischief, with the same kind of trouble that ensnared him into your orbit that one lousy night.

"Come in me."

Bloody fucking trouble.

(He wants all of it. The you who'll complain about the hard surface of the kitchen table he'll bend you over. The purple marks he'll pepper on your neck, your collarbone. The you that fights tooth and nail over him eating beans on toast.)

He watches you with half-lidded eyes as his fingers and his cock toss you overboard into the tumultuous sea of euphoria and then— when you're a drooling, limp mess— only then, does he finally surrender, balls drawn up painfully tight,

and fills you to the brim, until there's no more room left in your swollen, greedy pussy. Until it spills from your hole in thick rivulets, until there's no more of him left to give.

(He doesn't do rings. It'll get the both of you killed should he ever get caught. Maybe a tattoo for him and a band for you? Gotta text Price in the morning.) <- oh what barebacking does to a simple man such as he.

this was supposed to have been a 600 word drabble hello. he's clingy and squishy and so sickeningly in his emotions.

[bapelana]

nerd!armin trying to study while you rock your hips back ‘n forth on his lap is like trying to play pool with a rope… <3

17- dni. long stry short ur dry humping & making out with armin ‘n he just nuts in his pants lolll

he was supposed to be studying.

you told him he could focus. told him you’d be good. just sit on his lap and scroll through your phone, mind your business. no distractions.

but your shorts were too small.

and your thighs were too warm.

and your body was too fucking soft.

he’s not even pretending to study anymore. textbook open, highlighter dry, brain absolutely fried. armin’s arms are wrapped tight around your waist, hugging you like a lifeline, forehead tucked under your chin like he needs your warmth just to survive.

his brain has left the chat since you’ve placed yourself right on his lap. right over his pulsing dick.

and when you shift your hips—just a little, just enough to tease—he lets out the softest, most pathetic moan you’ve ever heard in your life.

“baby…”

you giggle, low and syrupy. “what?”

“please don’t do that. i can’t—fuck, i can’t take it.”

he sounds like he’s about to cry. all breathy and high and whiny. and you’re not even doing anything yet. you’re just sitting pretty, thighs spread over his lap, titties spilling out your tank top while his glasses fog up against your skin.

you look down at him. “you’re so cute when you’re desperate.”

his hands slide down to your plush hips and squeezes it, making you gasp. “m’not desperate,” he mumbles, eyes fluttering closed. “just… distracted. you’re distracting.”

“i’m not even moving.”

“you’re breathing.” he practically whimpers. “your thighs are so warm. your face is so—so beautiful. and—and you’re sitting right on my—”

you grind as a response to him.

slow. deep. and he gasps.

his hips jerk up so fast it almost knocks the air out of you. his breath hitches in his throat, arms trembling around your waist.

“fuck, i—don’t do that. p-please.”

“why not?” you whisper, nosing at his cheek, trailing your lips to his ear. “are you gonna cum in your pants, ‘minnie?”

he whines. literally whines.

“not if you keep teasing me—i-i mean it, i’m close already, i can’t—”

you cut him off as your lips finds his.

hard. sloppy. tongue-first.

the kind of kiss that’s all lips and spit and teeth, hot and messy and loud. your hand slips into his hair, pulling just enough to make him moan into your mouth. and he kisses you back like he’s dying, like he needs you, like he’s addicted to every inch of you. like he’s drowning and you’re oxygen.

his hands clutch your thighs—like full-on grabbing fistfuls, trembling and tight. he spreads them a little wider, just enough to rut up into you again.

and armin’s so loud. moaning into your mouth. gasping.

mumbling things like “you feel so good” and “so fuckin’ warm” and “i love you i love you i love you” in between wet, open-mouthed kisses.

you try to tease—pull back and look at him—but he chases your mouth like a dog. like he needs it. he grabs your hips, rolls you down against him with the dirtiest little cry in his throat.

his eyes are all glassy. cheeks red. glasses crooked. there’s spit on his lips and his neck and your chin, and your tank top’s practically useless now. tits spilling over, thighs sticking to his jeans, panties soaked through.

and he’s still going.

rocking into you like he can’t stop. like he won’t.

“shit—shitshitshit—baby—oh my god, please, i’m—”

and you can feel it. the twitch.

the way his body tenses. the way his jaw clenches. his brows furrow and his head lulls back, mouth still on yours. the way his whole chest jerks once, twice—

and then he just breaks.

he cums in his jeans. loudly. messily. pathetically.

he’s moaning your name, clinging to your waist and ass, pressing kisses to your collarbone like it’ll ground him.

his hips keep moving, slow now, desperate for every last drop of friction. and when you stroke the back of his neck, soft and slow, he actually whimpers.

“you okay, baby?” you whisper, smiling against his temple.

he nods. but he’s shaking.

“i—i love you,” he mumbles again, completely dazed, “i love you so bad it’s—it’s fucking stupid.”

why r my pants down ??? 😂😭🤣 pt.2 soon because i think armin deserves to beat down some doonies. yup yup yup

[yuujispinkhair]

Had this silly little thirsty thing in my head for weeks and I have enough courage to say it skdh

Letting Yuji thighfuck you as his reward

Making Sukuna thighfuck you as his punishment

Idk- I feel like Yuji would love it.. cause he's so sweet and thinks you're cute all over *kicking my feet*

And- now idk how you'd make Kuna submit like that- although, that subby college kuna is on the mind yk hehe

anyway- that is all, ily and I'm loving the Hockey AU so far mwah 💗💕

AAAH RISA I LOVE THIS 🥵🥵 Thank you so much for sharing this with me!! 💗

Yuuji x Reader, Sukuna x Reader. 700 words. 18+. Smut. Thighfucking (Reader is sitting on a kitchen counter with her legs crossed). Praise kink, cum-eating in Yuuji's case. Degradation kink, overstimulation, squirting/piss in Sukuna's case. All characters are of age. Minors don't interact. Divider @/benkeibear

Yuuji is happy about anything you give him. He is so in love with you and your body it drives him crazy to push his leaking cock between your beautiful thighs. He walked into the kitchen, seeing you sitting on the counter in that short skirt, and he was instantly rock-hard. He laughed sheepishly and apologized for his dick, but you smiled at him and put a hand on the large tent in his grey sweatpants.

"It's ok Yuuji. I like how much you want me. Come here, baby."

The moment Yuuji realized what you had in mind, he was already pushing his sweats down eagerly, lips opening in a loud moan. It felt dirty, and that excited him.

Yuuji is always a nasty one. Cute but nasty and very horny. So he is all too happy and grateful that you let him rub his horny cock against your soft skin. It looks so hot how his swollen, wet mushroom head peeks out between your plush thighs, drooling pre-cum all over himself and smearing it between your sexy thighs when he fucks them. Things become more slippery with each horny thrust, and it makes Yuuji moan shamelessly.

You tell him to look at you, and when he does, you pet his hair and coo at him,

"You are so sweet, Yuuji. Such a good boy. I love you so much, baby."

And Yuuji nuts so hard 💗 His large hands dig into your thighs, his moans all high-pitched and cute, while his pretty cock throbs and shoots Yuuji's thick warm cum down your thighs.

You don't even have to tell him afterward that he should lick you clean. That sweet boy is already on his knees, caressing your calves with his large warm hands while he eagerly licks his cum off your thighs while moaning against your skin how much he loves you.

Sukuna (I also imagine fucktoy Sukuna from "Bad Boy - Good Toy" here) grits his teeth to hold back his moans and glares angrily at you while he ruts desperately against you. Angry at himself for being such a needy mess for you, who needs to touch you so bad that he is even ok with this!

He thought you would let him fuck you tonight, but you just grinned at him and laughed mockingly, telling him that bad boys don't deserve your pussy. "Next time, you better behave nicer throughout the day. You are such a brat, Kuna. I really have to put you in your place."

He hates how fucking hard he got when you talked to him like that and when you sat on the kitchen counter and pointed to your legs with that cruel smile on your pretty face.

"If you are so needy, you can put your pretty dick here, baby."

He hates that he didn't even hesitate but pulled his cock out immediately, slapped it against your thigh, and then pushed it between your crossed legs with an angry and horny hiss falling from his lips.

And now Sukuna is standing here in the kitchen with his jeans and boxer briefs pooling around his ankles, fucking your thighs like some dog in heat. Fast and desperate. Groaning anytime his throbbing cock glides through the tight warm gap between your thighs.

He feels his head spin as you milk drop after drop of pre-cum out of his aching cock, while taunting him about how excited he is. But fuck, it feels good, and the way you smile at him makes him feel so strange.

"Aww look at you, Kuna. You are so pathetic. You gonna hump yourself against me until you make a mess all over me? So cute. My little horny slut."

It's too much. Sukuna growls a needy-sounding "Shut up, brat!" even as he feels his muscles contract, unable to hold back the intense orgasm that makes his whole muscular body shake as he cums all over your legs and the kitchen floor like some little excited loser, shooting his milky seed everywhere.

You don't let him go, only press your thighs together tighter and squeeze his orgasming cock, forcing Sukuna to give you every last drop of cum he has in him. He is whining by the end, so over-stimulated that tears gather in his eyes, and he even squirts a little, hearing you laugh when the sticky mix of his warm piss and cum trickle out of his angry, swollen cockhead.

😵😵💗💗

Both of them drive me INSANE!! Yuuji is such a cutie, and I want to praise him all day!! And Kuna is my favorite little brat who brings out my sadistic side. I am so in love with both of them!!

Thank you so much for sending me this sexy idea!! 💗

I hope you enjoyed your little fun time with our boys ;) Who is your fave?

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗

And if anyone wants to read more about this subby version of Sukuna, you can find two sexy stories about fucktoy Sukuna here: Bad Boy - Good Toy

[luvyeni]

[ req? yes / no ]

𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗡𝗘 ─── anton can’t stand seeing you dancing with sohee … even though he’s not yours

( 対 ) lee chanyoung + fem. reader wc. 0.7k genre smut · contains! possessive anton ( yum 😋) , pussy slapping , unprotected sex mature content. / back to library

the pit in the boys stomach felt misplace; he shouldn’t be angry. you aren’t his — he made that clear in the beginning , it was just sex. both of you using each other to get off , leaving before the morning light shed through the blinds.

you weren’t his , so why was he seething with anger watching you and sohee interact with each other. maybe because you were laughing and smiling with the boy — something you barely ever did with him , most of the time your hands were tangled up in his hair and those perfect lips you were using to smile at another man were normally pressed against his neck , or wrapped around his cock. “fuck.” he hissed , bitterly but also because he could feel himself getting hard just by the mere thought of your mouth of him.

he gripped the cup tightly watching sohee's hands slide down to your lower back; pulling you close as you danced , his hands were so close to your ass. anton had enough , getting up from his seat , making his way over to you just before the other boys hand could touch what was his — you were his. “anton.” you finally noticed the boy. “i didn’t even know — let’s go.” he yanked you away without another word. “anton what the hell!” you yelled.

he dragged you all the way to his room , slamming the door behind him. “what is your problem , we were just dancing.” he scoffed. “dancing , his hand was practically rubbing your ass.” your arms folded. “and why is that such a big deal?” you questioned. “you know why,” he said in a low tone. “why anton , why can’t i dance with him? we aren’t together , you can’t just tell me who i can and can’t —”

he had you pressed against the bed , leg holding your thighs spread apart. “because you’re fucking mine thats why.” his big hand holding both your wrist above your head. “and i don't appreciate him touching what’s fucking mine.” he growled , normally he was soft in bed , not submissive but he let you take control most times , letting you ride him , this time he was gonna take charge , show you who you belong to.

“can’t believe you let him touch you.” he was basically ripping your clothes off. “were you planning on letting him fuck you to?” he growled , and maybe you had a death wish. “maybe i was? so what.” you had that smug look on your face , his hand come up to your neck , squeezing a bit. the feeling between your legs becoming almost unbearable , you began to move around. “fuck look at you , basically humping my leg like a dog in heat.” he cursed , cupping your clothed cunt. “you’re dripping , is this for me or him.”

he didn’t get an answer , so he slapped your cunt , you screamed. “who is this for?” he gritted through his teeth. “you!” you scream. “it’s for you.” he quickly unbuckled his jeans , pulling out his big heavy cock. “should make you -fuck- fucking choke on my dick , but the way your pussy is soaking my sheets.” he slid right in , giving you no time to adjust. “fuck i can’t wait.” pulling out , slamming back into you. “anton shit!” you screamed out in pleasure.

he usual soft and deep strokes turning into deep harsh thrust , he was fucking you like he had something to prove. “he can’t fuck you like this.” he grunted , the stretch from his cock was dizzying. “nobody can , your pussy knows who she belongs to.” his cock was kissing at your cervix. “me , tell me.” he moaned out a string of curse words. “tell me who you belong to.”

“you fuck , i belong to you!” he really did know you body like the back of your hand. “you’re about to cum.” he smirked. “you gonna make a mess for me , cream my fucking cock.” he gave your clit a light pinch making you jolt. “cum for me.” he held your shaking legs open as you came. “that’s it -fuck- i’m gonna cum , you gonna take it for me , take my cum like a good cum slut.” he panted above you , his thick length twitching inside you. “fuck” he cursed , cumming. “anton.” he pressed his lips against yours. “don’t let anyone else ever touch you like that again.” he whispered.

“you’re mine.”

©️LUVYENI

[morganlism]

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ let it roll, baby, roll. | trailer park!ellie williams headcannons.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎ ︎ ︎she’s got a knife in her boot, a blunt behind her ear, and your thighs memorized like scripture. ︎ ︎ ︎| ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ellie williams. ૮ – ﻌ–ა

warnings: 18+ content, cnc, strap-on use, dom!ellie and sub!reader, oral sex (giving and receiving), overstimulation, kink, praise kink, breeding kink, semi-public sex, recording (audio/video, consensual), orgasm denial, dirty talk.

heath's note: lol I uploaded this last night and when I woke up I saw that my post violated the app policies :( honestly I felt sad momentarily, I guess someone reported my post, but I don't want to draw conclusions without knowing the problem, I hope you like it just like the first post. Btw, if this au was someone else’s idea, please let me know so I can give it the proper credits.

trailer park!ellie who lives in a shitty, rust-bitten trailer on the edge of a dried-up boston, where the air smells like motor oil and cigarette smoke, but you? you're her favorite little secret, no one in the park knows about the way she keeps you up 'til 3am, legs shaking and mouth stuffed full of her fingers.

trailer park!ellie's cock? big, rude, and permanent. She wears it under basketball shorts, gray boxers, or sometimes just free under low-hung jeans, it’s veiny and mean, and she loves to grind it against your cunt when you’re too tired to fuck properly, lazy, humping little motions, "C’mon, baby. Let me in. Just a lil".

trailer park!ellie loves sex in the beat-up truck out front. The backseat smells like weed and old leather, she’ll flip you onto your stomach, window cracked, and fuck you slow while her hand presses your cheek to the fogged-up glass. Her voice right in your ear, gravel-thick: "Anyone walks by right now, they're gonna know who this pussy belongs to".

trailer park!ellie who will show up to your shift at the gas station in a muscle tee, neck covered in bite marks you gave her the night before, asking for "one blunt wrap and a taste of that attitude", she’ll drag you to the back and eat you out next to the mop bucket if you let her.

trailer park!ellie who spits in your mouth like it's a blessing, especially when you get mouthy. One hand on your throat, her other working her cock into you — slow and filthy — and when your eyes roll back, she leans in: "Open up", and you always do.

trailer park!ellie who's into freeballing at home. Dirty tank top, legs spread wide on the busted couch, cock poking up heavy and leaking. She’ll jerk it slow, eyes on you in her lap, muttering, "You gonna suck it, or just stare all day, baby?"

trailer park!ellie who smells like gasoline, weed, and heat, makes you dizzy. Makes your thighs rub together, she knows it, too. "Fuckin’ slut for my sweat, huh?" as she presses her armpit to your face and makes you beg.

trailer park!ellie who quickies behind the trailer. Bent over the plastic patio chair while the neighbor’s dog barks, no panties, Ellie’s cock already lined up, her palm muffling your moans "Gotta be quick, baby. Be good for me".

trailer park!ellie who records you, just audio. Crackling tape-recordings of you moaning, choking, crying out her name — she jerks off to them when she’s alone, or makes you listen to it on her shitty speaker while she fucks you again.

trailer park!ellie who calls you her "good girl" and her "nasty lil slut" in the same breath. She’ll fuck you until you’re drooling, and then hold your face after like you're something soft, "y'feel safe with me, huh? Even when I ruin you".

trailer park!ellie who's addicted to the way you cry when she ignores your clit. She'll fuck you slow and deep, rock her hips in a rhythm that barely gets you close. Your nails dig into her arms, whimpering for more. Ellie just grins, "not yet. I like you like this — all pathetic".

trailer park!ellie who's still inside you, cock twitching, while you lie on her chest in the shitty twin bed she's had since she was fifteen. She lights a blunt, exhales slow into your mouth, and mutters, "you're mine, you know that, right?" And you nod, cum still leaking out of you.

trailer park!ellie who gets jealous. Real fucking jealous. One look from some guy at the gas station, and she's got you shoved against the wall five minutes later, legs spread, "you smile at him like that again and I'll fuck you so dumb you forget your name".

trailer park!ellie who owns a cheap camcorder. Sometimes she props it up on the microwave while she fucks you against the kitchen counter, she talks to the camera like it's some sick audience, "look at her — takin' it so good, she's fuckin' made for it".

trailer park!ellie who wears your perfume secretly, just on her wrist or under her neck. Says it reminds her of your thighs and sometimes she'll jerk off with it sprayed on her hoodie, tongue biting her lip, muttering your name like prayer.

trailer park!ellie who doesn’t let you cum until you're crying, not out of cruelty, out of obsession. Ellie wants to see you wrecked, broken, absolutely fucking ruined — so when you finally cum, it's a sobbing, leg-shaking mess and she fucks you through it like she owns your soul.

trailer park!ellie who will fuck you while you're on the phone. Doesn’t matter who it is, she'll go slow, deep, and quiet at first — until your voice starts shaking, until the person on the other end says, "are you okay?" and you gasp out a lie while Ellie licks the sweat off your spine.

trailer park!ellie who's into filming your voice. Not just your moans — but the little stuff, your sleepy giggles, your whines, the way you say "Ellie, please" like it's a sin, she just loops it while she fingers herself in the bathtub, she came in your panties once just from that.

trailer park!ellie who loves to finger you while you're half-asleep, lazy touches, knuckles deep, lips at your neck, "go back to sleep, baby, just makin' sure your cunt remembers who it belongs to".

trailer park!ellie who calls it "feeding her ego", which means sitting on her face until she can't breathe and you're begging her to let up, she just wraps her arms around your thighs like a lifeline and mutters, "nah, you're not goin' anywhere. I'm fuckin’ starvin'".

+

trailer park heatwave:

it’s 103 degrees inside that tin can of a trailer, the AC’s busted, the fan’s making noise but not doing shit, you're half-naked in just your panties and Ellie's worn-out sublime tank, sweating through the fabric, thighs sticking to the vinyl couch.

ellie's sitting across from you, legs open, blunt in one hand, the other palming her strap under her shorts, she hasn’t touched you in hours — just watches, eyes lazy, mouth parted, cock hard and twitching where it presses against the waistband, and you beg, twice, she ignores it, she’s waiting for you to snap.

and when you do? She makes you crawl across that sticky-ass floor, sweat dripping down your back, while she spreads her legs wider, "you want it so bad? Come earn it".

you suck her off like you’ll die without it, gagging in the heat, eyes rolling, while Ellie hums all sweet and smug, pretty little bitch can't even think straight, bet your brain's fried, all that sunshine cooked it right outta you".

she fucks your throat until tears mix with sweat, then bends you over and fucks you right there on the floor — no lube, no warning, just raw and mean, moaning into the wood. "Told you not to whine, baby. Now you're just gonna take it".

possessive ellie after a fight:

you stormed out earlier. Some dumb fight about weed, or bills, or the way she let that girl at the bar touch her arm. You didn't even say goodbye — just slammed the door and vanished for hours, ellie sat on the steps of the trailer, chain-smoking, jaw tight, fuming, when you come back, she doesn’t say a word.

just pulls you inside, slams the door, and grabs your jaw hard, "you think you can leave me like that? Walk out dressed like a fuckin' slut, leavin' every guy in town wonderin’ if they can get a taste?"

her voice is low, dangerous, you try to argue — but she's already pulling down your shorts. No prep, no softness, just Ellie spitting on her cock and ramming in, possessive, brutal, her hand's on the back of your neck, pushing you down onto the mattress like she's staking her claim.

she fucks you until your voice breaks, until the fight is long gone and your thighs are shaking, and even then, she doesn't stop. Just leans in close and whispers, "you’re mine, you don't run from me, you belong to me, say it".

and you do, over and over until it sounds like worship.

© 2025 all rights reserved — morganlism. do not modify, repost, plagiarize, or claim my work as your own without permission.

[hannieween]

ladies' night | wicked games series | k.mg

Kim Mingyu came into your life at a time when you needed a friend the most. And that he was: a friend that you could confide in and laugh together, share your secrets with and perhaps, share a burden that was too similar to his.

☆ pairings: kim mingyu x female reader ☆ genre: angst, smut [18+] ☆ aus: bartender mingyu, friends to rebound fucking, fwb to lovers (attempt at a slow burn) ☆ word count: 16k

› read more

›🎧: rebound – woodz | mood – dpr ian | healing killing – tabber | whiskey – jay b | i can't read your mind – meloh | restless – bibi | pretty girl – highvyn, estée | night – keshi | get up – new jeans | cigarette – onoffon, tablo, miso | feeling lucky – bibi | underwater – red velvet | sabotage – hyejin | drown – baekhyun

› warnings under the cut

☆ warnings: alcohol consumption, smut with plot, sub mingyu, soft dom reader, pussy drunk mingyu, manhandling, mingyu is low key a simp, reader is so down bad for him it is embarrassing, reader is on birth control, both mingyu and reader are lowkey toxic, size kink, big dick mingyu, use of sex toys, squirting, masturbation, foul language, dirty talking, lots of making out, reader has a bit of difficulty reaching her high, a bit of dry humping, oral sex (f. receiving), body worshipping, cowgirl, edging, unprotected p in v sex, creampies, aftercare. pet names: baby, shorty, pretty, (hers)

☆ acknowledgements: first things first! big thanks to @nonuify who suggested the title for the series! thanks to @onlymingyus who suggested a cute pet name for reader (that is, sugar which will come in the future), @miniseokminnies, @bitchlessdino and @wonustars for helping brainstorming for ideas hehe ty ty 🩵

also thanks to vee and @wooahaeproductions who helped me proofread this 🩵

☆ author's note: helloooooo! welcome to the hannieverse! where every single fic i've written is connected somehow! this series is closely connected to heartbreaker. though i don't think it is necessary to read that one in order to read this one here, but if you haven't read that one yet, be my guest hehe

☆ author's note 2: we have another reader self-insert!! i wish i could start self-inserting the things that are actually nice about my life... and not angst, bad sleeping habits and heartbreak (┬┬﹏┬┬) anyway, i hope you all enjoy this one

☆ disclaimer: minors DO NOT INTERACT. this post is intended for 18+ readers. please have your age stated in your description and try not to look like a bot please or i will block you.

ladies' night

Lately, work had become your second home.

Not by choice, no. It was a thing that you forced into your life to keep yourself busy. Running a business was not easy, but you had reached a point in your life where you no longer needed to work 16 hours a day. Now, you felt like you needed to be working all day long. Or else, you would go insane.

Routine. You swore by it. Wake up, get ready, go to work, traffic, clock off, more traffic, come back home, sleep, repeat.

You could make time for yourself. But there was nothing else to dedicate your time to.

Coming back to a half-packed apartment was quite discouraging. Boxes piled up. The furniture you worked so hard to buy, gone, sold. You did not even bother to turn on the light, you had memorized your way through the maze of cardboard boxes.

Maybe I should get a dog.

The keys hanging from your fingers jingled as you reached your bedroom, tossing them on the nightstand to begin undressing yourself and getting ready to sleep.

There was a row of neatly folded clothes occupying one side of the bed, clothes that were ready to be packed away. Or donated. Whatever you wanted to do the following day.

You finished peeling off the last piece of clothing from your body, neatly disposing of it in the hamper, and dragged yourself to do your nightly skincare routine.

The biggest, and probably recurring challenge you had to get through was going to sleep. You faced your bed, half covered by small towers of folded clothes making you feel a deafening agony that you could not get rid of.

You set your phone on the side table before commanding yourself to sit on the bed, your back to the piles of clothes. You had to purposefully ignore your phone before going to bed if you wanted to get an interrupted sleep.

Lying on your pillow, you stared at the ceiling, your arms sticking to your torso, fingers curled on the bedcovers. The part you dreaded the most.

You closed your eyes, avoiding every thought completely. It was a difficult feat, it was impossible.

Slowly, and tentatively, you slid a hand beneath the bed sheets, reaching out to your side, feeling the weight of the piles of clothes pressing down on your arm. The side of the bed would remain empty, and you never dared to sleep on that side.

The side where your former partner used to sleep.

A part of you itched to grab your phone. What was the point, you concluded, retreating your hand and sticking it to your body again. There was no point in trying to reimagine a life in which you had not asked your ex to leave. There was no point in wanting someone that left you feeling so empty.

Maybe I should sell the bed too.

You stared at the ceiling once again, your gaze outlining the four margins of the bedroom. Whenever the night got bad, you would do this, over and over, until everything faded to black Until you fell asleep.

You woke up before your alarm went off.

It took you some moments to realize that you did not have to go to work that day. A heavy reluctance fell upon you, making it harder to drag yourself out of the bed you were planning to sell the night before.

You brushed the thought off. Okay.

You were okay. You were going to be even better.

The morning was bleak, the pale light making you squint your eyes as soon as you drew the blinds up. But you started working at once. The first task was putting the clothes in boxes, emptying space on the bed.

You wasted no time, removing the covers and the bed sheets without much thought. You did not want to think that even though you washed the pillowcases, you could still smell your ex's cologne in them. You did not want to think back to the time you bought the bed sheets with him when you moved in together.

It was too late.

Crushed, you closed the moving boxes, moving them into neat piles. The silence was nearly deafening.

You sat on the bed and waited.

The doorbell rang. People came in and stuffed a van full of all of the boxes and the bed. When it was time to go, you took one look at the place you swore you would live with the love of your life for a long while and closed the door behind you.

Three months later.

Your old routine started to tear you down. A silent killer, slowly destroying bits and pieces of your already fragile state. You were too slow or too ignorant to see it, but in protecting your precious routine, you were destroying yourself.

First, it was your sleep. Then, it was your closest friendships. Then, you could no longer pay attention at work. You were tired, and alone.

Enough is enough, you told yourself sternly.

You decided to do new things. Explore a bit more, distract yourself, pamper yourself. Watch a new show someone recommended to you ages ago, or actually read one of the books you bought and forgot.

Living in a new part of town should not be this challenging.

You knew every single corner of the neighborhood, yet you knew no one. And living in a city so vast and so populated demanded you to do activities in the company of someone.

Part of running your own business meant that you could manage your own time. That you did, shaving some hours off of your heavy and self-inflicted work schedule and taking some time for yourself.

The first thing you did was go shopping since it could be one activity you could do by yourself. And it was distracting. You went back home, and read that book.

Maybe I could put on this show while I unpack.

Some things were still kept in boxes from when you moved into the new apartment. Mainly those with stuff you did not require immediately. Clutter. Mostly bought by you to make your other apartment feel more lived in.

Time went by and you finished watching that show. You finished reading through the pile of books you got ages ago. You bought new clothes, and got rid of those that once occupied your ex's side of the bed.

You were slowly becoming someone else.

Waking up to a new reality happens in an instant. In the middle of the day. In the middle of traffic. It is realizing that in the past you is no longer present, and you need to become someone else to fit into that reality.

At least, that was how it felt.

The red light turned green, and you pushed yourself through the traffic slowly. Maybe I should sell the car. You turned left, driving past the badly lit gym that stood on the corner, its uninviting neon purple and red lights outside.

Abruptly, you pulled up. Grabbing your purse, getting out of your car and meekly pushed open the door to the place. The myriads of different noises startled you at first. The very loud speakers mounted on every corner, the clanking of the heavy weights hitting the floor, planks hitting each other, and the occasional loud grunting of men.

The person wearing the staff uniform greeted you. The young man, though seemingly your age, looked at you up and down with bright doe eyes.

“Hi,” he nodded politely, showing you a smile adorned by a couple of ring piercings. “Welcome! How can I help you?”

The question seemed to drive a dry joke in your mind, but you paid no attention to it. “I want to register.”

His expression broke in a downturned smile, almost as if this were a quick reflex of his. You realized then, you were being quite dry.

“Please,” you added two seconds later.

“Sure,” he smiled, recovering from the awkward exchange without issue. “Follow me.”

The gym was packed, it got hotter the more you entered the place. The guy wearing the staff uniform appeared to be quite the popular person around, waving at gym goers left and right with great attitude.

You thought of mentioning it but, you just kept walking behind him to an office room secluded in one of the corners. He turned on the light and went around the small desk, sitting down on the battered office chair with a heavy sigh.

“Okay, first things first,” he turned on the chair to one side, showing you with his hand to a table pushed to the corner of the office, an old coffee maker huffed as it finished brewing. “Coffee?”

You looked at the coffee machine, and then to him. An eyebrow lifted.

“It's Thursday,” he shrugged. “We serve coffee every Thursday.”

You huffed, a small smile appearing on your face. “And on Fridays?”

“Ah! Do not get ahead of yourself. Maybe we can find that out tomorrow, miss...?” he pushed his eyebrows up, pulled one pen from the pencil case, and clicked it on, ready to fill out a form.

You fought the urge to laugh in his face, the awkwardness from the whole situation making your tummy feel uneasy.

You sat down on the chair, robbing the pen from his tattooed fingers. His doe eyes snapped open in surprise when you pulled the form from under his hand and started filling it out.

“Tell me prices,” you muttered, eyes focused on filling out the form, so you did not get the chance to see him smile when he let out a small breath.

“Well, that didn't go to plan,” he whispered to himself, seemingly.

Cute.

“Has it ever?”

You darted a look at him through your lashes. The guy had his eyes slightly widened, probably not expecting you to strike up a conversation of this type.

“Uh, well, yeah, but,” he stammered, like a deer in the headlights. “Only when I don’t mean it to,” he smiled sheepishly, bringing a hand to scratch the back of his neck.

“Well, then, I suppose that you can give me your name so I can give you mine,” you offered, though amicably. You finished writing on the form, putting the pen down.

“Jungkook,” he nodded his head politely. “Jeon Jungkook, miss.”

You smiled at him and told him your name, pushing the form to him on the desk.

Jungkook read the details you penned on the form intently, his lips softly mouthing each word, and then he turned to the old computer sitting on one side of the desk. But then, he shook his head swiftly. “Shit, yeah. Right,” he hissed. “Prices,” he turned to you.

“You know what,” you blurted, heartbeat racing when you pulled out your card from your purse. “Just sign me up.”

“Okay,” he nodded once again, his smile growing into a more content one, leaving the shyness behind. “Welcome to Casa Pump House,” he announced proudly.

His whole face had lit up, even his eyes seemed to glimmer under the pale overhead lights. The pause that followed told you that he was expecting you to match his energy, to smile, to say something.

A stiff smile stretched the features of your face, you nodded back at him. “Thank you,” you said. However, what he did not know was that the last thing you wanted to get out of your registration to the gym was working out.

You just needed another distraction.

The man stood up at the same time you did. “Let me show you around,” he said, demeanor completely changed. He seemed nervous now.

“Oh, is it okay if we leave that for tomorrow?” you asked, suddenly feeling out of place in your work clothes.

His mouth hung open for a brief moment. “Sure,” he replied. “Of course. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” you echoed, walking out of his office promptly. “Thank you, Jeon!”

You rushed through the rows of all types of machines. The noise from the heavyweights clashing together, the loud music coming from the overhead speakers, and the noises coming from men, exhaling, grunting, and such had you taking a deep breath when you came out of the place.

The night was cold, slightly damp from the mid-summer breeze. It was a stark difference from the humidity inside Casa Pump House.

You snorted. I should learn to ignore my impulsive thoughts.

You found your car, unlocking the doors. But a flashing thought overwhelmed you even more: having to sit through yet another thirty minutes of traffic, alone with your thoughts.

Turning your back from your car, you locked the doors once again, walking down the street. It could be a Thursday night when your usual would be heading home and sleeping. But the city was very much coming alive with nightlife activities.

People were walking close together, laughing, chatting, or looking at their phones. All of them had somewhere to go, somewhere they were being waited for.

Two girls holding hands walked past you, they were giggling, talking about some innocuous thing, but it caught your attention, they were pretty and looked happy.

They stopped in front of an establishment that was clearly a bar. Namely The Spot, in big neon red letters and pushed inside the place, which was booming with loud music, and the buzzing from the people crowding the place.

Once again, you sighed.

Impulsivities.

You were not exactly a drinker. But as soon as you crossed the door, you realized that the place was the answer to your every prayer. Well, no. Not quite. But close.

The place was dark, only lit by neon signs and low-hanging lamps. A cacophony of various things filled your ears: the sound of music, paired with the chattering of the crowd, the billiards in the distance clashing with everything too.

The good part was that no one paid attention to you. You quietly and inconspicuously slid on one of the high-top chairs at the lacquered bar, being approached by a girl a second later to take your order.

“Can I have a coke, please?” raising your voice over the loud speakers made your heartbeat race. You rarely ever did such a thing lately, it felt weird to do something like that again.

The girl nodded and in seconds, she slid the can of coke and a glass with ice in it in front of you.

You were glad that you were not met with concern when you ordered a coke at a bar. But then you realized that no one cared.

The place was packed with mostly women, you realized as you familiarized yourself with its adorned walls and black and white checkered floors. The bar top held a chalkboard that explained it in neat handwriting: ladies' night, buy one get one free.

“Does it apply for non-alcoholic drinks too?” you asked the girl tending the bar.

She shook her head no. “But this one is on me,” she winked at you in a friendly way, when you sent her a questioning look, she just shrugged: “You look like you need it.”

Then the girl turned and continued working, tending to other orders in the bar quite skillfully. You wondered if you announced your sadness just by walking into the place, and people noticed. Or was it that being alone in a ladies' night instantly meant that you were going through a rough time?

You need new friends.

When you broke up with your ex, you hid from the world that revolved around you as a couple. The friends you shared, the places you used to go with him, the activities you liked doing with him… It all got shoved into a drawer at the back of your mind.

So now, you felt like coming back to life. Essentially, you were finding yourself after the pain of a heartbreak. The reason behind all your most recent life's decisions.

You would never go to bars alone, for instance.

Not that you did not enjoy a drink. You did. Though during the time with your ex-partner, it was a true rarity for you to go out and drink.

So being in a bar, on a Thursday was something you had not done in years.

It was quite overwhelming. The buzzing noise, the loud music, the clanking of glass and billiards, the booming laughter and chattering...

The mood was low, dimly lit in red neon lights, the noise seemed to die down upon laying eyes on the tall man going behind the bar, passing in front of you and blocking the sight of the huge neon red sign that read, HEARTBREAKER. The contrasting light against his tall frame made him alluring, you could not help but stare.

However, your trance was cut short. He might have sensed your eyes glued to him because his zeroed on your face, unsuspecting at first. You realized instead, you know this man, the thought fell heavily in your mind, settling in the pit of your tummy.

The dark eyes glinted with recognition, the corner of his lips rising to uncover the predominant fangs as he smiled politely at you.

Kim Mingyu took one step towards the spot you were sitting in, the smile fading at once as you jumped from your stool, swiftly slipping through the door and out of the bar altogether.

Once out, you released a puffy breath. Did you just run away from Kim Mingyu?

“But did he recognize you?” your best friend from college, Mona, asked. She toyed with the tail of a cherry, dragging it on the foamy surface of her pina colada.

“I don’t know,” you squished your cheek on your palm as you propped your elbow on the table. “I didn’t stick around to find out. I don’t think he did, though.”

“Are you sure about that?” she mused.

“I’ve changed a lot, Mona,” you explained, though pointlessly since your best friend already knew what you meant. “I’m not the same kid I was when I was seventeen.”

“True. So why did you run?” she asked, blowing a puffy air up her fringe to keep it off her long eyelashes.

“It was some sort of impulse,” you tried to explain but the truth was, you did not even know the answer to that question. Hence why you resorted to call in for a meeting with the person that knew you the most.

Though it was not a meeting. You had already set a date for you to meet with your best friend long before you found out that Kim Mingyu worked at the bar around the corner of your apartment.

It had been long since you saw your best friend, partly because you kept coming up with excuses to not meet with her.

“I think,” he started, now popping the cherry in her mouth. “That you have been so buried in your own shit that you’ve started to forget how to socialize.”

You coughed up a chuckle. “Right,” you said dismissively. “And what is your recommendation, doc?”

“You should return to the bar,” she shrugged. “You have been hiding for too long. It’s time you go out more, meet new people.”

Her dark eyes bore into your face. You could feel your own pulse in your tummy. “I know,” you confessed with a strangled tone. “I’ve gotten better. I no longer think about him, you know?”

This was the reason why you had been dodging your best friend’s calls. Or cancelling plans at the last minute. This conversation was one you had been putting off for far to long but could no longer keep inside you.

“Good,” she sighed with relief, her heart-shaped face lit up with a kindness that warmed you up. “And how do you feel?”

“I feel… I used to feel angry. At him. For failing his promise to me,” you pursed your lips, swallowing hard as your voice dropped. “But now I just feel like I’m letting it go. I think that things had to happen like that for a reason.”

“He did you a kindness,” she nodded with a wise expression on her face.

You huffed. Kindness is not the word you would use. In fact, you could not come up with words to use to describe what he did to you.

“Seriously,” she insisted, straightening on her seat. “Imagine you got married! Then you would have been a loser’s wife!”

That elicited a genuine chuckle out of you. “True.”

“Not only that, but you would’ve also gotten divorced. Or who knows. But he spared you the pity of being married to him, divorcing him, or having children with his sorry ass.”

You pondered over her words for a second. Mona was there for you when you broke up with your ex. She was the first person to know the news, dropped everything to be at your doorstep within the hour of that happening.

You were grateful for Mona in more ways than one. She gave you space to grieve when you needed it. You did not even have to say it.

“So, are you going back to that bar some time soon?” she pried, leaving the tail of the cherry on her napkin, a knot neatly tied in the middle.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “I chickened out. I think he did see me, and I don’t want to leave that impression.”

“Do you need back up?” she threw you a cheeky look.

Oh, she knows.

“No, I think I got it,” you reassured. “I’ll just pop in, say hi and that’s it.”

Sundays were the worst for you.

The bustling noise from the bar drowned out the heavy thumping of your heart. Keeping your head down, your eyes darted forth and then down to the glass you kept twirling with your fingers on top of the lacquered, pristine bar top.

Kim Mingyu was busy that night. Prancing side to side behind the bar, a white dishcloth resting on his shoulder. He went to pick up a new order, yanking it from the small printer and pretending to read it.

His chocolate brown eyes lifted, locking on you. With a nervous jolt in your chest, you looked at your hands again, grabbing your phone to hopefully distract yourself from the awkward but swift exchange.

“I know you.”

You drew in a breath, jolting so hard that somehow your hands pushed your drink, making some of it spill on the polished surface. “God,” you exhaled in both embarrassment and surprise.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Kim Mingyu blurted, grabbing the cloth from this shoulder and pressing it on the spilled drink. “Shit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you like that.”

“No, it’s okay,” you blurted, equally nervous as him. “You caught me off guard.”

“You know what they say,” he said, pressing his lips into a smile and discarding the cloth elsewhere, setting the palms of his hands on the edge of the bar top. “People with naughty thoughts in their heads get scared easily.”

“Nobody says that,” you raised your eyes from his hands to meet his face, his smile had grown, showing now the beautiful fangs that crowned it.

“I'm pretty sure I’ve heard it before somewhere,” he tilted his head to one side.

“Or maybe you just made it up,” you arched one eyebrow.

“Maybe,” he conceded, biting his lower lip to try and hide his shy smile.

A wave of warm embarrassment washed over your face, but you found yourself smiling at the man. “It’s been a long time.”

“So you do remember me.”

“Of course I do,” you replied with a meek smile burning your cheeks.

“Then why didn't you just say hi?” he replied with some faux indignation, pursing his lips into a pout. “I thought you hadn’t recognized me and that’s why you freaked out and left.”

“You didn't say hi either,” you shrugged, shaking your head lightly when you realized it was a bad excuse. “And it hasn’t been that many years, Mingyu,” you giggled. “Of course I remember you.”

The low chuckle that came from him ignited many memories from the past. “Really? Haven’t I changed? Not even a little?”

You rolled your eyes. The very last memories you had from Kim Mingyu were when you were still in high school. Even after many years, he kept the kind smile and bright eyes, the dark long hair. The only different thing about him was that he looked huge now.

He crossed his arms, waiting patiently for your answer. It was funny to you that even when his biceps bulged beneath his black t-shirt impressively, the starry eyes brought that boyish charm he has always had.

“Nope,” you said, shaking your head slowly. “Still the same.”

“But you have changed,” he remarked, nodding his head once. You blinked at him dumbly, so he just added: “Your hair is longer. Braces are gone.”

You let out a chuckle, enjoying how the features of his face went lax at the sound of your laughter, much as if he were holding in a breath until the moment that he made you laugh.

“Spot on,” you mumbled awkwardly, grabbing your empty glass.

It was totally the opposite, though. You feel like you had lost half of your younger self when you entered your twenties. The baby fat from your face was long gone, your skin was leagues better after the brutal hormonal changes. And your body of course was not the same… there were some improvements.

“Sorry, let me refill that for you,” he quickly got to work, pulling out a new glass, filling it back up, and with one move, he slipped it into your hand. “One whisky sour.”

“Thanks,” you pressed your lips in a shy smile.

You watched as he parted his lips, pausing for a second before speaking out, until another voice, a powerful one, boomed from across the bar.

“Kim Mingyu! Get to work!”

He straightened up as if mentally being whipped by the firmness of the command. The man who called was leaning back against a pool table, arms crossed on his chest. But instead of wearing a frown on his face, there was a broad smile in it.

“Ah! Shit, I’m sorry,” he replied in a nervous stammer, wincing when the man handling the bar alongside him slapped him on one shoulder.

“Focus, Min,” the guy who slapped him playfully smiled in a mischievous way, directing a swift glance at you and pursed his lips to keep himself from smiling any wider.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he repeated, shooting an annoyed look at the guy and rolled his eyes at him. “I thought you had it for a minute.”

“Yeah, I did,” he shrugged. “But you don’t get paid to flirt. Plus, boss is watching,” the man pressed his lips into a sly smile.

“I’m not flirting–hyung,” Mingyu widened his eyes, gritting: “She is a friend.”

“Hi,” you raised one hand at the pair of bartenders, waving at them. “I’m a friend.”

“Oops, I’m sorry,” the tall man adjusted the watch sitting on his wrist before waving back at you. “Jeon Wonwoo. Also a friend.”

“Flatmate,” Mingyu gibed with faux dismissal.

 “So I’m not your friend anymore?” Wonwoo clicked his tongue, raising his eyebrows. “Good luck with flirting again on the clock without having boss complaining.”

“I wasn’t flirting!” Mingyu whined, grabbing the upcoming order expelled by the little printer behind him.

“Since I’ve been downgraded to just being a flatmate, I’m going to take a break,” he announced with an overly dramatic tone of indignation.

Mingyu’s jaw dropped in a sign of it being unjust. “Hyung!”

“I trust you can handle the bar on your own?” Wonwoo said, undoing the knot tying his waist apron that was previously wrapping him from the waist and left through the back door.

“Tsk,” Mingyu huffed, but then, despite his situation, he smiled widely. “I’m sorry about that,” he offered you a kind look. “He’s just teasing me. Please don’t mind him.”

“It seems like all of your co-workers like teasing you,” you pointed meekly, darting a look towards the other two people standing over the end of the bar.

Mingyu shot a look back, finding the girl that had welcomed you some nights ago, standing beside a tall man of pale blond hair. Both exchanged a smile, looking giddy.

“Tsk, aah,” Mingyu shook his head, and the couple laughed. “Don’t mind them,” he pleaded, resuming to focus back on his work, though part of you assumed that he was too embarrassed to face you.

So, you watched as he busied himself taking orders, handing them out to the pretty girl tending the tables. You continued sipping on your drink, distractedly looking at your phone and sending him glances, noticing that he too was looking at you. Every now and then, he would just shake his head at her in disapproval, which she ignored with a wide smile on her face.

Whenever he tried to stop in front of you to chat, he would be quickly swept away by a new order, or someone would call his name, and he would excuse himself with a quiet apology and a shy smile.

Later, the man that introduced himself to you as Jeon Wonwoo returned to the bar, slapping Mingyu on the shoulder to draw his attention. They exchanged some words, Mingyu looked aback for a second and the other pouted, mouthing: “I don’t know,” and shrugging with ease.

“Hey,” Mingyu came to you after thanking his friend. “Wanna get out of here?”

“Eh?” you tilted your head to one side, the question making your stomach drop.

“So we can catch up,” Mingyu let out a sweet giggle, realizing how his question sounded. “I’m getting kicked out for the night.”

Your eyes widened in bewilderment. “Oh, Mingyu, I’m sorry, that is not what–,”

“Relax,” he sighed. “My flatmate is covering me. He owed me one.”

“Oh,” you blurted. In that case…

“It’s been a while.”

Mingyu hummed thoughtfully, casting a look at the night sky. “Uh, eleven–ten, ten years?” he calculated.

You were exiting the bar, walking down the side of the street after you told him you were just gearing up to head home already, and he kindly offered to walk you home. “Yep. Ten years.”

“Wow,” he sighed. “We’re getting old.”

You braced yourself for one of those talks. As you entered the second half of your twenties, things got a little awkward for you. Once you would think they were stuff of fiction, something you would only see in romantic comedies or in tv shows: characters see the people surrounding their lives getting married, going on dates, honeymoons, having children while they remain a perpetual loner.

Now, you could not relate to that more.

But Mingyu was a person who did not care for those things. Even when you were both seventeen. He did not care for material things, or superficial things.

“Yeah. A little.”

You drew in a breath through your nose. The night was cold, and you could tell in the summer’s breeze that it would rain later. 

“I saw that you went in that fancy college,” he mentioned and then laughed. “And then you disappeared off the face of the earth.”

“Yeaaah,” you mumbled awkwardly. “I sort off eliminated all of my social media,” you frowned, remembering the reason why you had done that.

“I get it, it’s exhausting,” he shrugged.

“Did you go into that fancy college?” you returned, remembering Mingyu in those days in which he used to talk about the future, whenever you went out with your friend group. You remembered thinking that he had a bright future ahead of him whenever he would talk about studying mechanical engineering.

“Nah,” he clicked his tongue. “I quit those plans once I started working and making money. So, I’m not a mechanical engineer,” he let out a lazy giggle.

“Mmn,” you nodded. “Yeah, that happens. I’m not a graphic designer.”

“Why?” he frowned. “That’s all you talked about with your friends!”

You looked at him, perplexed to know that Kim Mingyu ever paid attention to you. Within your friend group, you were the least he had in common with. So even when you crossed paths, you never talked to each other aside from small friendly stuff.

“I started working as a translator… Started making money,” you sent him a knowing look.

“Yeah, I get it,” he chuckled. “But do you enjoy it at least?”

“Of course,” you smiled, though you could not ignore the way that your heartbeat faltered. “I work independently, though I do rent an office not far from here actually…” you said, pointing to the street where you were about to turn.

“Nice! I live in the area too, so maybe we’ll run into each other one day,” he mentioned.

“It’s nice to know I have a friendly neighbor,” you smiled. “I just moved here.”

“Oh, then let me show you around some day!” his eyes lit up. “There are a ton of places you probably don’t know of, like the bakery on the next alley, or the coffee shop right next to it, they serve really good breakfasts.”

“That would be nice,” you grinned.

Mingyu showed you a toothy grin, pausing in his step so you could catch up to him since he moved faster than you.

“Hey, about what happened back at the bar,” he motioned a finger to the bar. “I’m sorry about that. My friends can be a bit of dickheads.”

“No, it’s alright, I get it,” you shrugged. “A bit of in-work bantering can lighten up the shift sometimes,” you put simply.

“That and the fact that they have been teasing me for a while now. They try hard to distract me,” he rolled his eyes. But realizing how he came off, he added. “I had a nasty breakup not too long ago. It’s like they think I’m going to break soon. It’s annoying.”

“Can I ask how it happened?” you wondered, feeling your heartbeat falter when you finish uttering the words to a question that perhaps, might be too daring.

Kim Mingyu dug his hands in the pockets of his black denim jeans, sucking in a breath between his teeth. He pushed his shoulders up, that was when you noticed that the chill in the summer air was finally starting the get to him.

“She got into a new job,” he started, his eyes set far ahead on the way in front of you. “At the beginning, I thought that she was just happy from getting her big job. But then, she started saying things.”

As you walked beside him, you tried to keep your eyes trained on the tall man, but then he blinked rapidly, dropping his puppy eyes to his feet.

“She'd say things about my job,” he swallowed hard, and you could almost feel the pain he felt upon remembering. “I thought nothing of it at first, thought she was encouraging me to get a job with higher pay but...”

You nodded, and he sent you a glance in understanding. He did not need to say more about it, and he probably did not want to repeat the hurtful comments.

“And then,” he continued, and his tone dropped: “She started talking about her boss.”

He shook his head silently and exhaled through his nose, lifting his gaze up to the night sky.

“Time passed and the comments got meaner, she started ghosting me and I thought of breaking things off,” he swallowed hard once again, as if trying to mask his pain with it. “I got a call one day from a friend, telling me they saw her entering a restaurant with another man,” you saw him turn his hands into fists inside his pockets. “I guess she forgot that I had the day off that day, so she never thought I'd be waiting for her outside her apartment.”

“Did she...” you blurted out, your heart palpitating in your ears. You braced yourself to hear it, because you knew from before that his pain and yours were too alike.

“Yeah,” he croaked, blinking for a long second. “For weeks.”

“God, I’m so sorry,” you covered your mouth with one hand. “I'm sorry, Mingyu.”

“I'm alright,” he shrugged once more, nodding as if to himself. “I think I'm grateful for her mean attitude towards me because in a way she softened the blow, but it still hurts.”

“I know,” you conceded. “It isn’t easy.”

However, you were raging inside. Some nights, the worst ones, you wonder what you did wrong to deserve everything that your ex did to you. The broken promises, the lies, the ghosting, your trust being brutally shattered.

“The worst thing is the shame,” he sent a glance at you, dragging his foot on the concrete to kick one rock that stood in the way of the park.

You nodded in silence.

“I never told my friends,” he confessed, his eyes were outlining the tree branches. “When it happened, I just told them that she was the one who broke up with me... I've never told them the truth.”

“You are not obligated to,” you muttered, a cold shudder added to your already chilled body making you pause.

“I just couldn't do it,” he muttered. “And the reason isn’t to protect her image, though at the beginning I thought it was… I just don’t want to the pity.”

You crossed your arms close to your chest. “And how are you now?”

“I’m okay,” he said with a reassuring tone. “I like to think that I’ve let it go already.”

Something made your tummy twist. You were familiar with the feeling, but decided not to mention it, since you felt that your past with your ex was no longer relevant.

“I’m sorry,” Mingyu said.

You frowned at him. “What for?”

“For dumping all of this on you, I shouldn’t have done that.”

You realized that as you walked down the park, that you had remained quiet, and perhaps Mingyu mistook your silence for something other than you just pondering about how familiar his situation was to yours.

“Oh, please no, don’t worry, Mingyu,” you showed him a kind smile.

“I don’t want to bother you with that. I just…” he scratched his neck absentmindedly. “I had never talked about this with anyone, and the words just flew out of my mind, you know?”

You nodded; you knew that all too well. “It’s okay, Gyu,” you insisted. “I’m not bothered. I don’t think it’s wrong to talk about that. After all, it is part of you, and I asked because I was curious.”

Mingyu looked at you for a long second. “I appreciate that,” he kissed his own lower lip, nodding in gratitude. “Thanks for hearing me out.”

“Hey, it’s nothing. You’re walking me home, so consider us even,” you pointed.

“You owe me nothing for that,” he pouted slightly, pausing his step in the middle of the basketball court you both were crossing to get to the other side of the neighborhood.

“I’m just saying,” you shrugged. “Since you were kind to me, I guess what I can do is listen to your woes,” you added playfully.

“My woes,” he grinned, clicking his tongue. “Really? You’re a tease,” he insisted, his eyes spotting something on the far corner of the court.

He sprinted towards the forgotten ball, grabbing it with one hand and started to bounce it as he walked back to you.

“Remember when we used to do this?” he asked, standing outside the box and turned to look at you, raising his arms with the ball ready on one hand.

Your tummy fluttered at his words. “Course I do, Gyu. It wasn’t that long ago,” you pointed.

He referred to the times when you used to go out in your friend group, you would go to stroll and have picnic nights with booze right next to the river, and then you would go to the park to watch the boys play basketball.

“I feel like seventeen happened forever ago,” he sighed, confidently throwing the ball which dodged the hoop quite miserably.

You snorted.

Mingyu shot a sullen look at you. “D’you think you can do better than me?” he challenged, but a shy smile drew on his face.

“Oh, most definitely,” you chuckled, but caught the ball with your hands when he passed it to you.

“Right, show me,” he nodded to the hoop.

You grinned, getting ready to shoot your shot. “What do I get if it goes in?”

Mingyu blinked. “You get,” he paused to think. “A round of applause.”

“What?” you gasped.

“A chocolate bar,” he giggled but when you did not reply, he said: “And if you don’t, you’ll get a forehead flick.”

“What, why?” you asked with a faux scandalized tone. “You didn’t get a forehead flick, why should I?”

The giggled that bubbled in his mouth was high and cute at the same time. “Those are the rules.”

“Your rules suck,” you huffed, and finally threw the ball.

It of course, did not go even near the hoop. Mingyu laughed the second that the trajectory of the ball dived before it even went close to the hoop, the sound was so contagious you found yourself resisting to laugh.

“Rules are rules,” he said, locking his middle finger with the pad of his thumb, forming a circle with his joined fingers.

“No, wait—Mingyu!” you squealed then the tip of his middle finger clashed with your forehead, flicking you swiftly. Pain flashed across your skin, but it quickly dissipated, leaving a tingle behind.

“Those were the rules, you agreed!” he giggled again, dodging your hand as you tried to push his shoulders.

“Then you should get one too,” you struggled to keep up with him, every single one of the fists you threw at him dodged quite effortlessly.

“The rules were settled after I threw,” he let out a small squeal when one of your fists nearly collided with his shoulder, but he was still quicker than you.

“Come here you-,” you gasped, your body was neatly trapped in his arms.

Your gaze shot up to find his, overwhelmed by the very pressure of his skin against yours.

“Stay put,” he panted. The tips of his ears were painted red, his eyes had lit up. The smile he wore on his face was just as overwhelming as feeling his big arms surrounding you.

But you sneaked a hand between your bodies, flicking off his forehead with a triumphant smile. “Dummy,” you whispered, a giggle bubbling in your chest. Joy bloomed inside you, warming up your face.

He lifted a hand to rub his forehead, letting you go. “Ack, but you played dirty!” he complained, holding the pads of his fingers to his forehead.

“No, I didn’t, you did,” you remarked, looking at him as he gave you a lazy smile.

“So that’s how it’s going to be,” he kissed his teeth. “I’ll get my revenge on you.”

“Oooh, I’m so scared,” you lifted your hands, flickering them in a scared motion. 

The sky rumbled above you. Mingyu looked up and you followed. “We should get going,” he said.

As you left the park, you made your way along the sidewalk where your building was located. Then a hand came to your waist, gently prompting you to walk along the side of the buildings instead of along the edge of the sidewalk.

The touch was minimal, fleeting. But your mouth went dry, searching his face for any sign that he knew what he had done to you with such an insignificant gesture.

Your heart stammered against your chest, quite uncontrollably, it made it hard for you to breathe properly. You raised your head when you got to your building. “We’re here,” you stepped in the first step of the stairs that led to the door of the building, pausing to look back at his face. “Thank you, Min.”

The smile that drew on his face knocked the air out of your lungs. “You are welcomed,” he said, emphasizing each word adorably.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you,” you muttered awkwardly, hating that he had flustered you with so little and had no idea about it.

“Oh, yes,” he swiftly fished his phone from the pocket of his jeans. “We should exchange numbers, in case there is anything you need.”

You sighed shortly through your nose, a thing he did not notice. “Sure,” you said, pulling out your phone and gave him your number.

“I’m mostly busy at the bar but, maybe we could go out for coffee, so we can catch up properly?” he asked.

That gave you a reason to pause. You were certain that he was not asking you for a date, but why had you become so nervous at the thought of going out with Kim Mingyu?

“Of course, I’d love that,” you grinned. “Goodnight.”

And then you ran into your building. Running away from Mingyu for a second time.

You struggled to get sleep that night.

Staring at the ceiling, you grew more and more restless, and even more aware of the thing that lied beneath your bed, inside one of the drawers of the bed frame.

A long, whiny sigh of resignation spilled from you before you could get a hold of your actions. You rolled to the edge of the bed, flinging an arm over the mattress, and yanking the drawer open. Another sigh as your fingers reached for the pink satin bag and bottle of lube.

Tossing the covers off your already hot and pulsating body, fingers trembling slightly as you pulled the vibrator out of the satin pink bag you kept it in since you bought it. There had been only a couple of times that you had actually touched the pretty toy with your hands. The toy was pink, the material was soft, thick, and just about enough inches long to satisfy you. Or so you hoped.

Unsure as to how to go about this, you thought of removing just the lower part of your sleeping clothes, including your panties. Breathing hard, and feeling hot in the face and neck, you lied on your pillows, staring at the ceiling.

Your heart was banging fast against your ribcage, as if it wanted to get out. You liked your lips, before grabbing the bottle of lube you had tossed beside you and pumped the cold, thick lube on your fingers, gently applying it between your pussy lips.

You sucked in a breath through your teeth upon the chilly contact against your warmth. But wasted no time, grabbing the pink rabbit dildo from your sheets and holding the button with your thumb.

It came to life with rapid vibrations, the buzzing sound made you jolt in your bed again. But mustering some courage, you brought the tip in, pushing it inside your entrance gently at first. The fast mechanic motions of the vibrator made it hard to concentrate, or to even get pleasure out of it.

Your eyes outlined the edges of the ceiling, anxiously pushing a few more inches inside your needy walls. The thickness of the dildo made your mouth part, releasing a tiny moan of both pain and from feeling your pussy stretching and pulsating around it.

Slowly, you familiarized yourself with the feeling of it, and you grew to like it as the seconds went by and you found a mode that felt good. Your body responded naturally, coming alight with the mechanic patterns of the vibrator massaging your walls. You pushed it all the way inside you, to the part that met your clit.

A strangled moan came out of you, letting your body be submerged in a puddle of pleasure. You sank your head back onto your pillows and spread your legs more so that the dildo reached deeper inside your walls.

It was electrifying. You felt your muscles tighten, your legs burn and begin to tremble, you turned your head to muffle a moan in your pillow and closed your eyes.

Behind your eyelids, you saw him. You saw his tall frame, the beautiful way that he moved. You saw the outline of his lean torso, the t-shirt clinging onto his abdomen. The way he smiled when he noticed your eyes on him, winking at you knowingly.

The way that every nerve in your body sizzled when he laid his hand on your waist. The memory only contributed to the pleasure blooming inside your body, pushing you closer to the edge.

You slowly succumbed to waves of pleasure washing over you, you moaned and thrashed but made no attempt to pull out the vibrator continuing to pleasure you, taking you to the edge. Your orgasm became brutal, fast fiery waves consuming you, tearing through you.

It was hard to ignore the urge to remember his large hand on you, the way he lowered his gaze to meet yours, his seductive smile. You wanted his hands on you, all over you.

A series of airy moans resounded across the walls, you arched your back from the bed, legs shaking uncontrollably, the burning feeling spreading from your throbbing walls to every corner of your aching body.

You held in a breath, putting an end to your implacable moans. The intense feeling coursing through your body making it harder to stop, so when a warm and wet gush came out of you, your thumb pressed the off button, realizing that you had just wet the bed.

Breathless, and shaking, you sat up on the bed, looking at the wet spot in your bed sheets. It was the first time you squirted, the first time you even felt pleasure so abundantly like this. You pondered over how you had to resort to thinking about Mingyu to achieve your climax.

With a sigh, you gathered yourself, cleaning your bed, yourself, and your toys before throwing your ruined bed sheets in the washing machine. You placed new ones and tucked yourself back in and stared at the ceiling.

Though you were completely languid at the time, your vision faded to black, falling into a deep slumber but one thought remained.

I think I’ll accept that coffee.

Easier said than done.

As the following Monday rolled around, you fidgeted with the sleeves of your large hoodie as you approached the door of Casa Pump House. Nerves wrecked up in your system when you pushed the door open using your electronic key.

It had been some days since you saw Mingyu. Some nights since you dared to touch yourself thinking of him. And you were trying your best to keep him out of your mind. Utterly ashamed, you did not even want to think of what you had done.

Because you had enjoyed it.

In the back of your mind, a tiny voice begged for you to visit The Spot again. Whenever you went to the convenience store, a flashing thought warned you that you might run into him there. Or at the gym, even.

“Heyyyy,” Jungkook rasped, elongating the word. “You have been MIA.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled awkwardly. “Stomach flu.”

He made a face. “Ew. You’re good now?”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t ew me,” you gibed. “Yeah, I’m good.”

But Jungkook did not know the stomach flu had a name, and you have been doing everything to not cross paths with him. So why were you at the gym, knowing full well that you could potentially run into him around that time?

“You’re here early,” he pointed, leaning his head to one side.

“It’s noon already!” you quipped.

“That’s early for you,” he remarked. “You always come here when I’m leaving.”

“Well, I missed you so I thought I could come here earlier to see your face,” you returned.

“You know what, I’ll take that. I missed your silly face too,” he said, smirking triumphantly.

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes.

“Well,” he clasped his hands together, comically drawing in his eyebrows in a deep-set frown. “Let’s get to work, twinkie.”

“What did you just call me?” you demanded at him.

“Twinkie,” he shrugged, motioning a finger at your body. “You look squishy, like a cute twinkie.”

“Hey!” you frowned, pointing a finger at him impishly. “And you look like you were left alone with a sharpie started doodling on your skin.”

His mouth parted in a tiny o. “Touché.”

You giggled. “Okay, let’s get to work,” you rolled your eyes in resignation.

“Let’s start with some warmup,” he nodded to the elliptical machines behind you. “Ten minutes. And then you are going to do RDLs, okay?”

“Okaaaaay,” you mumbled, reluctantly taking your body to the elliptical machine.

You climbed the steps, pressing buttons to see what made the machine start. Once you found the button that made it work, you started moving. You dove into the pocket of your hoodie, looking for your earbuds and your phone to distract yourself from the monotony of the gym.

“Hands out of your pockets!” Jungkook yelped, a second later you saw the man rushing to your side. “You’re gonna get squished, twinkie.”

“Stop calling me that,” you giggled with embarrassment.

“I will when you get a nickname for me that suits me,” he negotiated.

“God, you’re terrible at flirting,” you pointed with a laugh.  

“I’m not flirting,” he chuckled, awkwardly moving away from you.

You let out a puffy breath, drawing out your earbuds out of your pocket.

“Mingyuuuu, it has been ages!” Jungkook chanted, his voice resounding across the lonely gym.

Your stomach twisted, an anxious rush of blood barrelling throughout your body. Your gaze snapped around the place, finding Jungkook pressing his phone to his ear. “This Friday? Uh, yeah, maybe I could. Let me check and I’ll let you know, okay? Okaaay.”

It could be anyone else, you reasoned, placing the earbuds inside your earholes with embarrassment controlling your body. However, it seemed all too likely that it was the same Kim Mingyu on the phone. After all, Jungkook and Mingyu seemed like the kind of goofballs that would get along.

 A probability that you did not want to find out yet.

As you continued your best to follow your routine, something had damaged it. And it was not that you were still ashamed of yourself. Or that you were still flustered about your last encounter with Mingyu.

The realization that you could feel something other than monotony. From the moment you broke things off with your ex, everything felt the same, tasteless, colorless. And you knew that you had put in the work to break out of that dullness in your life, you went out more, you were meeting new people.

But nothing compared to that night. And you found out that you wanted more.

However, it was not easy. You had drowned yourself in work in order to keep avoiding it. So there you were, trapped in your little office you rented for yourself, working yourself to exhaustion so that you could just get back home and sleep immediately.

You turned off the computer after reading the clock that it was three in the morning already. So you grabbed your phone, and your apartment keys and went out of the building.

Damn you, summer rains.

They always came when you least expect it, in the blink of an eye. The air felt so hot as you went out of your office that you could barely walk outside, but then the rain was pouring over you with no notice.

Walking down the sidewalk in working shoes was not the best idea. In fact, you were heavily contemplating removing them and just going back home barefoot.

You came to a reluctant halt in the middle of the deserted sidewalk, as heavy droplets of water fell on your face, on the back of your head as you stared at your shoes, getting wetter and wetter as you pondered over your dilemma.

“Lost something?”

Taking one big gulp of air, you shot a look across the sidewalk, only to find Kim Mingyu standing, wearing his usual attire for work. The features of his face looked relaxed despite the heaviness with which he approached you, carrying his fatigue in his limbs with each step.

His white T-shirt began to accumulate wet spots on his shoulders and chest. His cheeks were wet, as was his long messy hair.

You gaped at him in question. The dilemma occupying your brain dissipated into the void, quickly replaced by the shock of seeing him after days of keeping him at arm’s length without failure.

“Hi there,” he muttered once he stood one step before you.

“Hi,” you smiled, having to tilt your head to find his face.

“You’ve been gone,” he said with some air of urgency, much as if he did not want to lose you at some lazy excuse on your part. “I was starting to wonder that you didn’t want to hang out anymore.”

You hated his straightforwardness sometimes. “Sorry,” you scrunched up your nose in discomfort, receiving more fat droplets of water on your face. “I needed some me time.”

“Then you should’ve just said so, dummy,” he pointed, rolling his eyes at you as if his point were the most obvious thing in the world.

“I struggle to say things sometimes,” you retorted in a whiny tone. “Look, I’d love to continue this conversation but we’re literally just soaking in the middle of the street.”

Mingyu raised his eyebrows, as though he had not noticed the rain pouring down on both of you. “I’ll walk you home,” he motioned in the opposite direction from which he was previously coming.

And with that, he turned around and started to walk down the street.

You fell into step at his side, struggling to keep his steady pace. “Slow down,” you exhaled.

“Right,” he giggled sweetly. “Short legs.”

“Shut up,” you readjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder. “You just walk really fast.”

“Because I’m taller than you, my legs are longer,” he motioned to his legs, taking one big step that amounted to three of yours.

“Well, then walk slower, please,” you huffed with exhaustion already building up in your feet.

Mingyu noticed, still looking at your face as he walked. “Fine, sorry,” he conceded. “Are you just clocking off work?”

You nodded, noticing your ponytail heavier now that your hair was soaking. “I wanted to finish everything before the weekend.”

“It’s three in the morning,” he gasped in dramatic reprimand.

“Don’t give me that look,” you frowned, pointing a finger at him. “I could say the same to you! You also just clocked off.”

“But that is normal for my job! What you do is not something specifically for night hours,” he argued, matching your tone.

“What do you know about what I do?” you tried to argue but a smile fought to curve your lips. “I could hold office hours specifically from 11 pm to 3 am,” you giggled impishly.

“Ah, really you are…” he rolled his eyes but shook the thought from his head. “Could you finish?”

Droplets of water slid down the bridge of his nose, dropping from the tip and onto his cupid’s bow. You remembered the cute little beauty mark sitting on the tip of his nose. You wanted to kiss it.

It took you one second to understand what he was implying. “Oh, yes, I did,” you stammered, crossing your arms over your chest.

But Mingyu did not notice the meaning behind your gaze. “That’s good,” he nodded, pressing his lips together.

The short spasm returned in your chest, making you tear your eyes from his face and keep walking beside him, staring at the sidewalk.

“How was work tonight?” you returned the question, trying to get as much light conversation as you could without falling into the deep craving tugging in your insides.

“It was alright,” he shrugged. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“What would that look like?” you ventured.

“Ah, well, drunk people tend to be funny,” he showed you a toothy grin. “One guy celebrated his birthday at the bar one night, and after a few drinks he lost control, went insane,” he laughed in the memory of it. “He started thinking he was an idol, he requested a song and got on a top of the bar and started dancing.”

His laugh was contagious, you could not help but respond with a giggle of your own. “Oh, no, that sounds embarrassing. What did you do?”

“He lost his balance and fell to the floor,” his smile vanished, shuddering slightly. “He broke his nose, I had to call an ambulance,” he finished the story, scratching his nape absentmindedly.

“That’s not how I thought the story would end. Talk about a night to remember,” you huffed awkwardly.

“Well that is one story of many,” his eyes widened slightly.

“But you like it?” you raised your eyebrows. “D-do you like your job?”

“I do,” he reaffirmed with a nod.

The rain had completely succeeded at soaking your clothes, your button shirt felt cold against your skin, and your jeans were tight and damp, it was starting to get hard to move.

Whereas you felt like a wet ragged doll, Mingyu looked like a supermodel. His long dark hair was dripping wet onto his beautiful face. His white T-shirt was clinging to the muscles of his body, letting you view the well-defined lines of his abdomen.

“Were here already?” Mingyu asked when you came to a halt in front of your building.

“Yeah,” you said distractedly, sending him a look as you opened the door to the inside of the building, welcomed by the smell of humidity and dust. “Don’t just stand there.”

The man followed you inside without much insistence. You started machining in your brain your next movements while climbing the first flight of stairs to the door of your apartment, which you opened with a shaky hand.

You staggered awkwardly against the door frame, trying to keep your chin up to hold his gaze. One hand brushed the worn edges of the frame, resting on it as you caught your breath. Mingyu noticed your eyes this time around. And you almost did not want to realize that his eyes were on your body as well.

“Do you want to come in?” you asked meekly, darting a look at the dark interior of your apartment, aside from the little lamp you always left on when you went out. “I can make something to eat. And lend you a towel, fresh clothes, maybe.”

Much to your fortune, the man nodded with his head. “If you want,” he mumbled, so you slid back inside your apartment for him to follow inside. “Though I’d have to reject the clothes,” reluctantly, he strolled inside your haven, looking at the abandoned big frame and leaning against the hallway wall.

“Why?” you asked, still walking backward as he paced before you.

“Because they might not fit me,” he chuckled, his smile knocking the air out of your lungs.

“What do you know, I could have something that might,” you smirked, getting him a towel you had discarded earlier in the morning.

He gave you a light gesture of gratitude with his head, thanks, he mouthed before pressing the towel to his face.

“Do you…” you hesitated. “Can I offer you something?”

He sneaked a look at you with the towel pressed to the lower half of his face.

“Like water?” you suggested with a sheepish smile. “I have ramen–and rice in the fridge.”

He contemplated you as you swayed your body on the balls of your feet ever so gently. “You don’t need to do that,” he finally replied.

“It’s just food, Mingyu. You walked home with me,” you shrugged, motioning to the kitchen, your fingers grazing the rim of the dining table.

The man took one step towards you, making your step stutter. “I mean that,” he smiled. “You don’t have to repay nothing, shorty. That’s what friends are for.”

You stumbled against the edge of your dining table, a gasp leaving your lips that you quickly tried to replace with a muffled chuckle. “You know, I could say the same thing.” 

“How long are you going to keep this up?”

“What?” you breathed, completely perplexed by both the proximity and the question. “Ke-keep what up?”

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed,” he muttered gruffly, pushing you to lean back against the dining table without laying one finger on you. He was just so close to you that you had no room to breathe.

“Noticed what? Mingyu–,” you giggled in utter shyness when he knowingly smiled at you. The blood rushing to your face made your skin tingle, you bit your lower lip.

“Am I making you nervous?” his voice dropped, his dark eyes reading the features of your face with avid curiosity.

“Yes,” you admitted, leaning back with your hands gripping the wooden rim of the table as he towered over you. “I like you, Kim Mingyu.”

His triumphant smile crushed your heart with its beauty. Damn you, Kim Mingyu.

“I like you too,” he whispered, leaning closer, the smile fading softly as you stopped moving back.

“Mingyu,” you whispered, hating how much you were flustered at his confession, your voice waning.

Mingyu paused, but it was not out of hesitance, his gaze swimming on your features quickly softened once you dared to reach out to him. Using the proximity of your bodies, you found his face with your hands, realizing how warm his skin was.

“Yeah?” he whispered back, nodding slightly with his head. Mingyu wanted this too.

You are not sure what happened, if you moved first or he did. You closed your eyes, breath hitching as his lips touched yours, your skin coming to life with a fiery rush of blood. From pressing his lips against your own, he quickly moved to kiss you deeper, using one hand on your chin to tilt your face to him.

Your heart stammered in your chest, his hand returning to park in your waist. Friends don’t kiss, you wanted to tell him.

Who were you kidding, you had never wanted someone like you wanted Mingyu.

But this is wrong, you thought over and over again.

“Mingyu,” you breathed when his fingers on your chin tilted your head for him to kiss the underside of your jaw, slowly pressing his lips twice.

“Mn?” he hummed really close to your skin, so you felt his short sigh, his breath brushing your skin.

“We should stop,” you brought a hand to the middle of his chest, feeling his hard pecs beneath your palm.

“Why? Am I doing something wrong?” he asked, backing away from you so he could take a look at your face.

“No, not at all,” you said, short of breath, rigid in your muscles in a weak attempt to resist what you wanted to do.

“Okay, if you want to stop, then we stop,” he offered with a kind tone, slowly following your gaze as you palmed his chest over his t-shirt.

“I- I mean if we do this…” you stammered, feeling stupid. “I don’t want us to change.”

A toothy grin spread on his lips. “How would this change us?” he shot a look to your eyes then your lips.

“I don’t want to cross a line we can’t come back from,” you explained, still not letting go of him.

He stilled completely; you saw it in his eyes when he started to craft a plan. “You draw the line.”

“Mingyu…” you whispered, your lips pouting around the last sound of his name.

This was not the same as playing basketball in the middle of the night with him. This could potentially tilt your world upside down. He did not know yet the way he made you feel just by being around you.

“You can draw it here if you want,” he offered, his tone was nothing but kind.

A smile stretched your lips slowly. He made things harder for you like this. Letting you be the one to choose was dangerous, if not stupid. But he did not know.

“I don’t want you to look at me differently,” you quivered. It was still hard to breathe since he was still within arm’s reach. Your hand lingered still right on top of his heart.

“I won’t,” he whispered back, gesturing a no with his head slightly. “I promise.”

Mingyu did not know that you were all too familiar with the pain that he carried. Even if he were not hurting at that moment, you knew what he was going through.

Mingyu looked at you as if he had just dipped into the stream of your thoughts but were left unbeknownst to your actual insecurities. “You’re safe with me,” he mumbled, offering you the ghost of a smile.

You thought of all the nights you wished for something like this to happen. The moments you wished to get a touch, to feel what you felt the first time he placed his hands on you.

Mingyu grabbed you by the waist, easily lifting you off your feet and placing you on the small dining table. He did this carefully, but you could sense that he wanted you in a position where he could kiss your face freely. His hands held your face lightly, while he continued pressing kisses on your lips, your cheeks.

This time, as he dives back in your lips, his tongue brushes against yours, lightly at first but enough to elicit a throaty moan from you. The frenzy pulsing in your throat turns into a warmth, blooming from your neck to your face.

He realized you liked that, and tried it one more time, his tongue lingering on the tip of yours before he pulled back. “I should go now,” he whispered, the pad of his thumb caressing your chin gently. “Or I won’t be able to stop.”

You grabbed his wrist. “Wait,” you breathed. “Please don’t. Don’t go. I don’t want you to leave.”

Did you want him? Or did you just not want to spend the night alone, wondering about him?

Mingyu seemed to desist, much as if the rigidness that he used to command himself away from your body had dissolved once he heard your plea. You caught sight of his throat bobbing when he gulped hard, searching your features as if he would find what to say in them.

“Stay the night with me,” you blurted uncontrollably.

“Sure,” he replied, grabbing the edges of the dining table as though he were withholding the urge to touch you again.

“Do you want to, Mingyu?” you asked, reluctant about his general lack of resistance to your offer.

He smiled as he tilted his head to one side. “I would’ve said no if I didn’t want to,” he raised his eyebrows in question. “If I stay, I do want to know one thing. Are you sure about this?”

Before you uttered the same quippy response he gave you, the flashing thought of sabotaging yourself crossed your mind. He knew this. Mingyu knew that you had a tendency to be a people pleaser, of trying to make everyone happy.

“I am,” you reassured, and it was the final blow to what little self-control you had left. “I want you, Mingyu.”

The words caused an impact on him. He breathed in slowly, but his eyes widened ever so slightly, shooting up a glance to your features. His eyes lit up, his beautiful lips curving in a small, but shy smile.

Finally admitting that aloud, and to him also caused something within you. Your pulse quickened, followed by a heat rushing inside you, stretching so far that it reached the tips of your fingers, commanding them to his face.

The pads of your fingers touched the line of his jaw in a gentle caress, urging him back to your lips before you could say something even more damming to your soul. The stammering of your heart was distracting, telling you to let go of this man before he could hurt himself in the tumultuous and dark path that led to your heart.

But you could not. Take the risk, the words echoed in the back of your mind.

“Mingyu,” you blurted, parting from his lips. “Couch, sit.”

You heard an airy chuckle left him as he broke away from the kiss, walking back and blindly falling on the couch, not bothering to look around to make sure where he was heading. You jumped from the dining table, crossing the space to follow him.

His hands pulled you in, his grip on your waist coming back to command you to sit on top of him, which you did willingly, pressing one knee on the couch, then the other, framing Mingyu’s thighs.

Now that you were straddling, a tiny voice in the back of your mind wanted to pull the breaks, but your hands found his face again, your palms caressing his cheeks as you slid your fingers in his long dark hair, brushing it back before sinking your lips in his.

His hands roved your back, starting from your waist up, his fingers getting caught in your hair when he reached your shoulder blades, pressing on your skin over your dress shirt. Your hands went around the back of his head, sliding down to find his thick neck.

Your tongue rolled inside his mouth, swiping a line on his lower lip in the process. Your body came alight with a shudder when a raspy moan coiled around his throat, you felt it beneath your fingertips.

A soft wet sound bubbled between your lips and his when you stopped kissing him, pausing for air. You thought of what to say, resting your forehead on his.

“Do you want to keep going?” he asked.

Every inch of your skin tickled when you heard how gruff his voice had turned. You nodded with your head.

“Yes,” you replied. “You? What do you want, Mingyu?”

The inner corners of his eyebrows twitched ever so slightly, but you noticed it. The question caught him off guard as if that had not been a consideration before. It broke you.

“I don’t want to stop,” he said with a sigh. But realizing that he only half answered your question, he added: “I want you. I’ll go as far as you let me.”

The tiny voice grew more alarmed, but you ignored it besottedly running the pads of your fingers to brush back a rebellious strand of hair back from his face. Mingyu was beautiful, the most beautiful man you have ever seen. But the pull you felt for him went beyond the physical. You needed him.

“Take control, baby,” he whispered.

And you obliged. The strangled sound that bubbled inside you was almost foreign to you. You were on his lips again, kissing him hungrily like you had never kissed someone else before. His hands grabbed your hips, bringing you impossibly closer to his body, pushing your chest flush against his.

You palmed his chest, appreciating the warmth radiating from him with a low hum, which he reciprocated, his hands daring to move farther down your back, cupping your ass and pulling you down on him, pushing your crotch against his.

“Mingyu,” you whimpered in his mouth. You grounded your hips on him, replicating the motion by swaying your hips back and forth on him once, then twice.

“Fuck,” he blurted, then shut his eyes tightly. “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered, continuing to ground your hips on him, rubbing yourself on the hard bulge beneath his blue jeans. “Do you like this?”

“Yeah, yes, baby,” he rasped. “But I want you to feel good, shorty. C-can I move you to the bed?” he shuddered.

You stopped grinding on him. “Sure-,” you gasped. Before you could finish your sentence, Mingyu was rising to his feet, scooping you up with him.

He giggled softly when you squealed in surprise. “I got you,” he wrapped your body effortlessly, his arms carrying you safely.

Your arms went around his neck by instinct, but he crossed your tiny studio apartment faster than your brain could even process. As he laid you on the mattress, you noticed that he had made sure that only your legs were hanging on the edge of the bed.

Mingyu placed a hand on the mattress, right next to your shoulder, then the other. “Stop me if you don’t like anything at all,” he muttered, climbing on top of you, and lowering his hips to meet yours.

He was heavy—heavier than you had expected or imagined in your most delusional nights. And he was not even lowering his full weight on you.

You swallowed thickly. But recovered when your hands found the hem of his t-shirt. “I want to see you without this,” you toyed with the damp cotton fabric, sending him a look.

Mingyu smiled and pulled back on the mattress, standing on his knees before you. He crossed his arms, grabbing the hem of his t-shirt to pull it up his torso, and off his head, showing his skin unabashedly.

A shudder flashed down your spine. You wondered before what was beneath that t-shirt, but what little you dared to imagine did not compare to the actual beauty he was. Before you could even take the image before you, Mingyu was already leaning over your body, propping a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Fair is fair?” he asked meekly, a thumb brushing over one button of your dress shirt.

“Yeah,” you showed him a smile, realizing you were jittery.

You watched his hand trail down as he undid each button, your shirt parting and slowly revealing the white bra you wore. It was nothing too daring, but it fit you well, accentuating your breasts nicely.

You darted a look at his face. Mingyu finished undoing the buttons of your shirt, his gaze lost in you as he palmed your tummy with a gentle caress to uncover more of your skin to him.

“God, you’re so pretty,” he gasped, leaning to press a hard kiss on your lips, his hand cupping your cheek.

Too astounded to even bring yourself to reply, you whimpered into the kiss, his tongue outlining your lower lip, his hand on your waist inched to your chest, setting your skin on fire. He cupped one of your breasts, groaning in desperation before hiking up the cup of your bra, to touch you freely.

Your hands flew to undo his belt, hastily undoing the button and zipper of his jeans too. “Get up,” you gasped, his thumb swirling your nipple, getting it to pebble, a tingle spreading on your skin beneath his touch.

Mingyu obliged, knowing where you were going before you even made a move. His gaze followed you as you pushed his jeans down, getting rid of them. In two full motions, your dress shirt was discarded on the floor along with your bra before you returned your back to the mattress.

He looked at you like no one else had before. There you were, splayed on your bed beneath him, and he was just taking you in with his gaze, making your heart flutter wildly.

His fingers grazed the skin of your thigh, inching closer to the band of your panties. You trapped his index and middle finger in your hand, his gaze snapping to yours.

“Fair is fair,” you reminded him with a grin.

He stood before your bed wearing a pair of grey boxers only. Pushing the inside of his cheek with his tongue, he sighed shortly. “You played dirty,” he pointed, but he removed his hand from your grasp.

You sat up, stopping him when you shot him a look, wordlessly telling him you wanted to finish undressing him yourself. You enjoyed the look on his face, his features going soft when you ran a finger from his belly button to the band of his boxers.

You palmed the outline of his cock, darting a quick look at his face when you felt the wet patch of precum on the last piece of clothing he wore. When your fingers finally curled around the waistband of his boxers, you could not help but conceal your smile by biting your lower lip.

Mingyu was fully hard, and he was big. A shudder tore through you. He stepped out of his boxers, looking at the bewildered expression on your face as he stood wholly naked, and proudly so.

Before you could even utter a word, he motioned you to lie back once more. You smiled, helping him get rid of your wet and ruined panties, which he yanked down your legs, tossing them to the floor, littered with your and his clothes.

“Gyu,” you whimpered, his lips pressing a sweet kiss on your lower, moving to capture it in a deeper kiss.

“Need you,” he whispered against your skin, his breath hot and quivering slightly as his hands palmed your breasts, his thumbs brushing your perked nipples. “I need you, baby.”

Your hands roamed on his back, feeling the outlines of his hard muscles. “Take me,” you blurted. “I’m right here.”

He placed a kiss on the underside of your jaw, and you tilted your head back for him to kiss your throat. “I want to eat you out,” he husked against the plain of your chest, kissing the swell of your breasts, taking his time with each as you raked your fingers on his scalp. “Can I?”

“God, yes, Mingyu, please,” you gasped, his mouth wrapped around one of your nipples, making you stir your back on your mattress.

Mingyu hummed as he licked your tits, his tongue swirling around your areolas, kissing your nipples and suckling at them. His hands caressed the inner side of your thighs, spreading them open as his mouth trailed down your tummy, kissing your skin, making it prickle.

A moan coiled in your throat. You needed him now. “Hurry,” you blurted with a whine.

Mingyu obeyed wordlessly, getting down on his knees. Kissing your mound, his hands cupping your inner thighs focusing solely on your pussy before diving in, his tongue swiping a broad stroke on your pussy lips, licking you fully. The feeling overwhelmed you at once, and you knew you would not last long.

“God,” you gasped, as he licked your folds sending you a look from between your thighs. The view was so lewd, beating any experience you had ever had in the past in a matter of seconds.

Silence flooded the room, aside from the wet sounds of his mouth on your pussy, licking your folds, and your increased breathing. Your mouth had fallen open, and you forgot to breathe.

His hair tickled your skin, his warm hands holding you down as he licked, suckled, and nipped at your pussy, as though he were getting familiar with it, as though he just wanted to taste if first before moving his tongue to your clit.

And when he did, you knew there was no going back.

A breathy moan escaped, and you drew in a breath again. “Mingyu…” you called after his tongue swirled around your swollen clit. “Do that again,” you asked, your tone whiny and pathetic.

He did not skip a second before doing a figure-eight motion with the tip of his tongue, and again. And again. You wondered if you would come before he grew tired, but then you realized that he was not stopping, nor faltering.

You propped half of your body on the mattress, letting your eyelids fall shut for a brief moment, focusing on his tongue teasing your clit relentlessly. You caressed his long dark hair, drawing his puppy eyes to yours. “I’m almost there,” you choked out, your limbs tensing in response.

“God, Gyu,” you tilted your head back, a tiny giggle escaping you. “You’re so good at this,” you whispered aloofly.

Your fingers curled in his hair, feeling like you were falling, sinking into a puddle of pleasure. Arousal and drool dripped on the covers of the bed as the tension in your body brimmed you to the point you were shaking.

“Min-mingyu,” you choked out, so close to the edge you could barely hold out. “I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m co-,” your orgasm rippled through you, body going limp with sweet pleasure, shaking, and whimpering pathetically.

He placed one final open kiss on your clit before rising from the floor, a satisfied look on his face. “Shorty?” he mumbled.

“I’m good,” you gasped dazedly.

“Want more?” he asked, climbing back on top of you.

“I need you,” you cupped his neck, pulling him into a fervent kiss. You tasted yourself in his mouth, his chin wet with your arousal, making your walls throb around nothing. “I need you now.”

That brought a wolfish grin from him. “How do you want me, baby?”

“Lie down,” you breathed, finding his hard chest with your hands.

You knew it was incredibly hard to push his body, but somehow you did. Pushing his broad shoulders as you managed to get on top of him again, but this time, as you were both utterly naked in your bed, it felt completely different.

“Oh god,” he blurted, his hands gripping your hips instantly as you lowered your ass to sit on him.

“You were amazing,” you husked, placing a chaste kiss on his lips that resounded with a lewd smacking noise.

His fingers dug into the skin of your hips in reaction to your praise, groaning as he captured your lips with his own again.

“Do you have a condom?” you asked, your tone weakened by the pleasure and the urge of feeling him.

He blinked for one long second. “No,” he rasped. “Do you?”

You shook your head. “I could suck you off,” you mumbled meekly, your gaze shifting between his eyes and lips. “But I’m on birth control.”

“I’m clean,” he mumbled. Your heart deflated just a little.

“I want you, Min,” you whispered, brushing his lower lip with the pad of your thumb.

A silent groan escaped him. “Please,” he replied in kind. “I want to feel you, baby. Now.”

The sound of his words emboldened you. You sat back on his thick thighs, once you straddled him you realized how big Kim Mingyu actually was. You raked the skin of his torso with the tips of your fingers, making him suck in a breath and shut his eyes close.

“Don’t tease me, please,” he choked out, kneading the flesh of your thighs. “Play later, baby.”

The whiny tone of his plea did not go unnoticed by you, but you kept caressing his skin, exploring it under the pads of your fingers until you reached his pelvis. Mingyu was well groomed, you found out when you grazed the short hairs with your index finger.

“Please,” he breathed, a hand shooting to circle your ankle.

“Alright,” you giggled.

You grabbed his hard cock with one hand, swallowing hard when you felt his soft skin, the thin vein trailing on the underside of his thick shaft. It was heavy and warm as you pumped him, spreading the precum leaking from its reddened tip.

Lifting your hips, your gaze locked on his, he trapped his lower lip behind his teeth, you guided his cockhead to your folds, a moan bubbling in your chest when his hands gripped you tighter. Mingyu sucked in a breath, swallowing a deep moan as you sank down on him.

“God,” you sighed, tears brimming in your eyes at the euphoric sensation of his cock stretching your walls deliciously.

But none of you broke eye contact, much as if neither wanted to miss the reactions you got from feeling each other.

“Fuck,” he whined once you bottomed out on him with a moan from your part. He closed his eyes, shuddering hard underneath you, his hands lingered on your hips, kneading your thighs as if that helped him cling to sanity.

“Okay?” you whispered.

“God, you…” he sighed, licking his lips. “You feel like heaven, baby.”

You smiled at him. “How long have you gone without getting fucked?” the question flew out of your mouth before you could even stop yourself.

“A while,” he admitted with a raspy tone.

You gave him a smile, before you anchored your hands on his chest, pulling your hips up, and then pressed them back onto his, feeling every naked inch of him. Your mouth fell open. “You’re so big,” you gasped.  

“Am I hurting you?” he whispered.

You shook your head, though the stretch had stopped hurting, you were enjoying it. You tucked your feet beneath you, propping them on his thighs to help yourself angle your hips on top of him. “Okay?” you asked again, riding him slowly.

“Perfect,” he replied, lifting his hands to cup your tits while his eyes explored every curve of your body.

You moaned, his fingers toyed with your pebbled nipples, making your hips buckle. “God, Mingyu…” you sighed, picking up the pace on top of him, enjoying the glazed look on his face.

“Fuck,” he gritted, pushing his head back on your fluffy pillows. “I’m gonna come. Baby, I’m g-gonna come.”

By pure instinct, you lifted your hips from his completely, making him sigh heavily but did not complain. You laughed impishly at the frown setting on his face.

“Please! Please, don’t stop, baby,” he whined, his hands clutching your waist. “I can keep going… just let me come, please. I need it.”

Oh, you could become addicted to this. You quickly realized.

You conceded without more begging from his part, sinking down on his cock again. Mingyu let out a long, whiny moan, shuddering when you started bouncing on him again. You leaned forward, managing to trap his lips with your own in a heated kiss. He hummed in your mouth, his hands roaming on your back. 

“Fuck, baby,” he gasped. “I swear, you feel like nothing else baby.”

You moaned, feeling your eyebrows pinch involuntarily. “You’re close, Min?” you asked, your tone going sweet and velvety for some reason.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Don’t edge me again, please.”

“Okay,” you giggled. “Wanna come inside me, Min?” you brushed his long dark hair back.

You caught sight of awe shooting on the features of his face. “Ye-yeah,” he breathed. “Please, please I’m so close, baby…”

You left a small peck on his lower lip, bouncing on him gently. “Come inside me, Mingyu,” you whispered.

“Oh god,” he gasped, grabbing your hips, helping you ground on him at the speed he needed to find his release, which came quickly, making him squeeze his eyes shut for a second before finding your eyes. “Baby, I’m coming, fuck, fuuuuuck…”

His mouth parted, a sharp intake of breath resounding across the walls right before a raspy moan came out of his pretty lips. The sight was so alluring that you feared the image would never leave your mind, you knew it would haunt you every night.

His grip became limp, and you stopped swaying your hips on him, kissing his lips as he came down from his high.

“Don’t stop,” he breathed, finding your thigh with one hand, then the other, caressing your ass before he motioned you to continue moving on him.

“Mingyu-,”

“I told you, shorty,” he said, showing you a lazy grin. “I can keep going.”

An ecstatic feeling rushed through you.

“It’s okay, Mingyu,” you said. “I’m good.”

“I want you to come,” he muttered, his voice thickened and gruff by arousal. “Do you want me to help you come, baby?”

“I- yes,” you sighed. “God, yes, Mingyu.”

Mingyu nodded, grabbing your hips as he shifted on the bed, planting the soles of his feet on the mattress to lift his hips, fucking into you, his cock reached deeper inside your walls, and deeper. A whiny cry escaped your mouth, your hands flying to grab onto his shoulders.

“Mingyu!”

Then he started plowing into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin becoming louder, impossible for the whole neighborhood to ignore. The headboard banged against the wall, mattress creaking with each of Mingyu’s hard thrusts.

He gritted his teeth, his eyes lost on the features of your face as you wailed, and cried out on top of him, nearing your sweet release.

“Fuck, fuck, Mingyu, I’m coming, I’m coming,” you cried out, a low whiny moan escaping you as you reached your second orgasm. This one was fiery, consuming you fast and mercilessly. Mingyu grunted, and you knew just by the fucked out look on his face that he was coming with you but kept fucking into you through your high, dumping his second load inside you.

You were panting, shaking, languid with pleasure as he lowered his hips back on your bed again, reaching out for you by putting a hand on the back of your head, prompting you to lie on his chest.

“You’re okay?” he asked with a sigh.

“Yeah, yes,” you breathed raggedly. “Perfect. You?”

Mingyu chuckled, wrapping his heavy arms around you in a warm embrace. “Perfect.”

You closed your eyes, ignoring the alarming voices in your head.

There was a thing you were certain of: you were playing with fire. But you wanted him, even if that also meant that you wanted to make him forget his broken heart. You wanted to ease his pain.

“We need to clean up,” you said, lifting your head from his chest.

Mingyu smiled, brushing your hair, tucking it behind your ear with his fingers. “Can’t we stay like this for a minute?” he said with a lazy drawl.

“Okay,” you whispered, leaning down on his chest again.

You listened to his heartbeat, caressing his chest with one hand. You smiled.

“What?” he asked, hearing your tiny giggle.

“Will you accept that ramen now?” you asked.

Mingyu chuckled, his eyes lighting up. “Yeah, I think I will.”

The following Sunday rolled around and you did not go to the bar this time, feeling like it was a little too soon to see Mingyu again after the night he spent at your place. And thankfully, you did not feel hollow for once, even as you sat quietly in your apartment.

That was until the loud buzzing of your phone broke the perpetual stillness of the living room.

[8:40 PM] min: Are you free tomorrow? [8:40 PM] min: Can I come over to yours? [8:40 PM] min: I can't stop thinking about you.

That drew a big smile out of you. You replied in an instant, letting him know that he could come to yours, sealing the deal with Mingyu, whom you never thought would make you feel something real again.

☆ author's note: hi there! (⁠•⁠ө⁠•⁠)⁠♡

don't hate shorty for her actions, she had to take risks lol. she is a hot ass mess but give my girl a chance, she'll get better (✿◠‿◠) this fic is lowkey inspired by the song two weeks by fka twigs and my personal life experience

the journey of this fic is. . . kind of long. i started drafting this fic back in december 2023. i originally intended it to be a one shot, only focusing on the rebound aspect. but for some reason i couldn't get myself to write it and then. . . my ex partner and i broke up after years of being together. i kind of understood why i couldn't write this fic. and so here it is.

not me oversharing on tumblrdotcom oh well you could practically see into my soul in all my fics, c'est la vie haha

also my general taglist is a mess so,

IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED FOR THIS SERIES, PLEASE COMMENT ON THIS CHAPTER, PUT IT ON YOUR REBLOG TAGS OR SEND ME AN ASK PLEEEEASE PRETTY PLS OR, JOIN MY TAGLIST

anyways,

toodles

☆ READ PART II! ☆ | JOIN MY TAGLIST | BUY ME COFFEE? ♡

© TO HANNIEWEEN I DO NOT ALLOW TRANSLATIONS, CONTINUATIONS, REIMAGINATIONS OF MY WORKS OR THEIR REPOSTING ON OTHER WEBSITES.

[pizzaapeteer]

Summer Afternoon

a/n: nsfw 18+, public fingerfucking, I kind of daydreamed about this and then just spat these 1k words out asap ​👀🤍

Vibrant grass tickles your hands as you dig your fingers through it, feeling the nature surrounding you. Your head rests on Mattheo's chest, moving in a lull with every breath as you lay on top of him. Legs sprawled lazily straddling his hips while he rubs a tender hand up your back, caressing the softness of your skin under your school blouse, light feathery touches that send shivers down to your core.

It's always hard to tell if he's doing it on purpose, but it seems to be a common theme with him, as when your back arches, pressing your front more into him, he shifts his hips in a way to reciprocate your movements. His hand slides further down, dipping under the waistband of your skirt, fingers skimming the grasp of your ass that sits swelled against your lacy panties.

He waits, remaining innocent for the moment till he moves his other hand to tilt your head, bringing you in for a passionate kiss. As your lips move together in what seems a sweet gesture is when his fingers dig, grabbing a fistful of your ass and pushing you down on his hardening groin.

It all happens so fast, his lips don't leave yours, his tongue delving further in, making the kiss deeper, eating up every moan that tumbles out of you. His hands thread grasping at your hair, holding you still and hushing your protest at the intimate display of affection. His hips grind, rubbing, pressing his cock sitting tight in his jeans up against the centre of your cunt.

He groans wanting, needing more, and he pulls your hair back, leaning forwards to attack your neck with kisses, a starved man quenching for thirst on this hot day. His lips press kiss after kiss, aggressively sucking and biting, dragging his teeth over your skin like a dog to a bone. He licks over his marks, soothing the broken skin that begins to stain with dark purple hickies, relishing in each whimper.

His hands curve over your ass and around your thighs till they greet your desperate cunt, constraining against the soaking barricading material. “So fucking wet already..so desperate you don’t even care we’re in public, do you?”

Your hips jut seek the friction and filling you badly crave, burying yourself in the crook of his neck whimpering. “Please, Matty-“

He coos mockingly, “yeah you want me to finger fuck you out in the open? That greedy cunt needs to sit on something, doesn’t it?”

His fingers drag teasingly, rubbing up the middle of your cunt over your damp panties, a softness that has your thighs twitching. He smirks, pressing another hungry kiss to your neck, a hand still caressing your hair, making him look like a tentative boyfriend comforting his sleepy girlfriend.

He slips his fingers under the fabric nipping at your ear, he exhales a shaky groan at the wetness that greets him. His fingers press up, delving into the warmth and he tightens his hold on your head, keeping your face smashed in his shoulder, quietening your sultry moans. No matter how many times he does this, his heart races in excitement and desire at how your sweet pussy clenches, squeezes down like a filthy slut on whatever enters it.

“That’s a good girl, now don’t move those fucking hips.” He thrusts his finger repeatedly, the small stretch still making you lose your mind, the heated concept of being fingered publicly, but still subtly hidden from anyone’s wondering eyes. One is not enough, you're craving more, desperate to be filled, stuffed and you ignore him grinding your hips.

He bites the shell of your ear, causing a squeal out of you. It’s a clear warning as he tries to remain inconspicuous, not wanting the fun to be over. “Keep that up and I’ll have your cumming so hard you'll get everyone's attention. you'd like that huh? want them to see how pathetically you're grinding on me, how fucking desperate you are?"

With burning cheeks, you feel thankful you remain tucked in the nook of his neck as his threat pulls a needy whine and you instantly still your hips despite how achy you are. Though Mattheo always one to be a cheeky shit, adds another finger and rubs your clit, testing your limits. He loves the way you're keeping your head down, and only he can hear the frantic, lewd moans spilling directly into his ear.

You’re too perfect, the way he’s caressing your back with a hold that stables you and your hips from moving. He can feel how restless you're becoming, his fingers getting soaked in a sloppy mess, hungrily thrusting in and out of your tight pussy. “You’re close, aren’t you baby?” He whispers so sweetly to you, but these a taunt underlying and it makes you squeeze his digits harder. He chuckles breathlessly, “oh you want it so bad don’t you, yeah gonna cum all over my fingers like the filthy girl you are.”

His fingers decrease their speed on your needy clit when you don’t answer and you lift your head. The sight is heavenly, big weepy blown eyes gaze at him with scrunched brows and parted lips that breathe hot sinful air inhaling straight onto his lips. He groans, biting his lips, “F-fuck you’re such a mess. A beautiful mess.”

The flushness of your cheeks and pleading look makes him want to give you everything you need. The desire within himself growing and his cock twitches achingly, and his determination to bring you every ounce of pleasure grows. He cups the back of your head capturing your lips in another steamy kiss, increasing the pace of his fingers, he rubs maddening circles on your clit.

You moan, tears threatening to fall as you kiss him lustfully, feeling your hips buck your orgasm rising rapidly. Breathless broken whimpers become muffled against his swollen lips as you tip over the edge, and you cum with two deathly grips, one on his arm and the other that rip the grass from its roots.

Mattheo's lips soften, continuing to take your breath away in his ability to switch from feral to sweet. His hold on your hair relaxes, soothingly patting you as if to praise a dog, his good girl. He removed his fingers, pulling them back out into the open. He pulls back to let you breathe, and he groans satisfyingly, replaces the taste of your lips with something sweeter. 

⤷ navigation. ⤷ masterlist. ⤷ mattheo masterlist. ⤷ divider. All work is my own and is not to be copied, claimed or stolen. ©️pizzaapeteer 2024.

[paarksunghoon]

Sunghoon trying to stay sane and respectful but your love for mini skirts and barely there tops are testing his patience day by day. He's not a horn dog but God when you press against him, so soft, so pretty and oh so naive..do you not notice your entire cleavage hanging out for his eyes to drink in, or the skirt riding up your luscious thighs as you rant about your day?

as someone who wears mini skirts all the time…nbgngngn. i’m also pretty high but reading this really put a number on me so sorry for typos lol

***

Sunghoon is a skirt chaser.

He’s always loved seeing girls wearing them since it made their legs look longer. It didn’t matter much to him—short girls or tall girls—he loved seeing ass peeking out from under the skirt and how they’d always tug at the hem to pull it down. Sunghoon doesn’t date much either (although that definitely wasn’t because nobody wanted him like that either; he wasn’t looking for that type of commitment).

He loved the kind of skirts that paired well for going out. Sure, the solid color staples pieces were cute. But the way silk touches the skin and how hips sway in these fabrics was enough to make his mouth salivate.

When you started wearing them, Sunghoon became perplexed.

You, his best friend since twelve, seemed to have ditched jeans and long dresses for short skirts and baby tees. In the past few months, he’s seen you switch up your wardrobe to the point where he was sure you had more than enough mini skirts to last you a lifetime. They came in all colors and styles, one for every color underneath the rainbow and then some. His friends all noticed this too, eyes following your ass every time you walked in front of them. That made him mad.

The thing is, you have an amazing ass and your tits always sit so pretty. He tries not to stare and gawk at you every time you wear these kinds of clothes. You keep it fairly tame when you’re in broad daylight and push the boundaries on a night out. You don’t seem to care that his friends stare at you every time you try to cover yourself up from a gust of wind or when you bend down. Sunghoon has probably seen your panties too many times.

He really doesn’t understand why all of these feelings are bubbling up. He’s seen you in bikinis and didn’t react like this. Sunghoon is confused but that doesn’t stop his dick from getting hard every time he pictures your outfits when he’s in the safety of his bedroom.

His favorite way to get off is by pushing his back against the bed frame and spreading his legs, holding his fist in a circle and he pumps himself up and down. Sunghoon pictures you riding him in one of your infamous mini skirts, looking up at the ceiling and imagining what you’d look like on top of him. He thinks about how he’d look down and the dirty affair would be covered by the fabric, as if thinking about fucking your best friend wasn’t weird.

Sunghoon is pulled back to reality when you squeeze his bicep in lieu of a greeting.

“Do you have our tickets?”

He nearly jumps out of his skin. “Jesus, Y/N. You need to warn a guy before you creep up on them.”

“All I did was touch your arm!” His cheeks feel hot as you laugh. “Were you in deep thought, or something?”

His eyes flicker to the shortest skirt he’s ever seen you wear but scoffs, playing it off. “Nah. You’re as quiet as a mouse.”

“Well this mouse wants to go inside.”

You don’t wait for him to answer you. Sunghoon feels you tug him by the hand towards the security line in front of the concert venue. You’ve been a bit more physical with him lately, tugging on his arm and sifting your fingers through his hair whenever he’d lay his head on top of yours. He only ever means to for a brief second in the way friends do, but he hesitates to pull away once you tug at his roots.

The artist is a band you two discovered a few years back and he was in charge of buying the concert tickets for the both of you. Sunghoon sees the fruit of his labor pay off when you’re both standing inside after you both pass through security. The venue is crowded and small, but you’re sure everybody is too high out of their minds to notice people bumping into them anyway.

As the two of you walk closer towards the middle, it starts to get tighter. Sunghoon moves you in front of him and puts his hands on your waist to guide you and doesn’t mind that your arms are resting on top of his.

You don’t move away from him once you’ve joined others either. He noticed that you’re a bit shorter than everyone else around you. “Do you want to get on my shoulders during your favorite songs?”

“No, that’s okay. I want to dance.”

He looks down at your skirt. “Mhm, let me know if you change your mind.

The two of you wait until the show begins and you’re talking to him about how excited you are for tonight but all he can think about is how he could cop a feel if he really wanted to. The skirt you’re wearing provides him easy access to touch you but he refuses to act on his urges, often flexing his fingers to calm himself down.

Halfway through the show and everyone is having a great time. You’ve danced for an hour straight and feel your legs wobbling after jumping and screaming the lyrics to Sunghoon. He’s a bit taken aback when you rest your back against his chest but tries not to think too much into it.

But you stay like that for a while and he can feel the fabric of your skirt. He toys with it absentmindedly as he nods his head to the melody until he feels your legs tensing against him. When he looks down, your thighs are squished together.

Fuck. He wonders if you’re horny.

Sunghoon hooks his chin over your shoulder and peeks down below to where his hands graze the hem of your mini skirts. When you don’t motion for him to move away, he grunts when his hands start to disappear and moans directly in your ear when his fingers touch your panties. It’s only then does he realize how wet you are.

His other arm is secured over your waist and you grip onto him at the sudden contact across your blooming core. He swipes his index and middle fingers back and forth to gauge just how wet you’ve become, smearing it all over your panties. It brings a gasp out of you and he pushes his lap against your ass.

It’s too much and he’s too hard. Neither of you are paying much attention to the show anymore, too wrapped up in your own little world to focus on anything else. Sunghoon nearly moans out loud when he realizes you’re allowing him to hump you from behind.

“Are you trying to ruin this friendship?”

Sunghoon feels you nod against him and the two of you head out of the venue and into his car. He tries to keep it in his pants on the ten minute drive back to his apartment. You don’t fuss when Sunghoon shoves his hand between your legs and keeps rubbing over your pussy as he drives, one hand on the wheel while he plays with you. Your best friend bites his lip and tenses when arousal gushes out of you.

“Recline and open your legs wider, baby.” You do as he says and he pats your clit twice. “Good girl, listening to me like that.” He switches his ministrations and brings his thumb to rub over your clit in back and forth motions. “Need to make sure you stay wet.”

And stay wet you do. You’re wet all the way home where he locks the two of you in his place until he’s dropping to his knees and pushing your chest against the wall. Sunghoon puts his face between your legs and licks up the arousal clinging to your panties while spreading your cheeks apart with his big hands, squeezing when you yelp.

He pulls the pathetic fabric aside and sticks his tongue into you, prying yourself open for his viewing. His warmth breath fans over your core and it has you pushing back against his face until his tongue licks you up in repeated motions.

Sunghoon doesn’t really care that he’s too horny for foreplay and neither do you, apparently, because when you hear sunghoon unzip his pants and take them off, you’re taking your panties off and taking your shoes off too. He grabs himself and aligns his tip with your hole before pushing all of himself inside.

You’re so wet. It’s so hot. He fucks you like he’s got enough stamina to last a lifetime and your tits bounce against the walls at the pace he’s set. He pulls back far enough that he nearly slips out every time but without fail, Sunghoon will make sure his dick stays wet the entire time you’re with him.

He pulls you back onto the couch with his cock still lodged inside of you, manhandling your body until he’s got you on his lap and your feet are placed by his knees. Sunghoon pushes his hips upwards and fucks you like this, balls slapping your clit with every thrust. He moans when you moan, the emptiness of his apartment filled up by erotic noises that only spur on his orgasm.

Your release triggers his. When he feels your cum seeping down onto the base, Sunghoon shoots his thick ropes into you but doesn’t stop thrusting. Albeit lazier and more random, he keeps his frantic pace and lets you dig your fingers into him while you wonder how your best friend made you cum so fast.

“Fuck!” you moan when Sunghoon pulls out just to push himself back in once he’s made your body lay in front of him.

“You’re so fucking sexy in these things.” He acknowledges the skirt by flipping the fabric with his fingers. Sunghoon doesn’t give you enough time to reply but you’re too busy moaning to care about the consequences anyway. “Wear them more often and I’ll fuck you like this every time.”

Since when is your best friend so good at dirty talk?!

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! xx

[robo-writing]

Logan happy trail. Logan happy trail. Logan happy trail—

You’d never stoop so low as to say you have a favorite part of Logan—he’s your boyfriend after all, you love him for all his faults and features. There isn’t a single thing you could ever definitively point out and say “that’s my favorite.”

However, if you had to choose—

“Christ doll, you’re lookin’ at me like a starving dog,” he says with a smug. “What’s got you so worked up?”

You’ve been waiting for him to come back from training all day, sitting on the couch practically counting the seconds. The training session he just came from must have been intense; shirt off, his entire torso glistening with sweat—his happy trail on full display.

You don’t even pretend to be ashamed, blatantly staring at the lovely trail of hair that starts from his belly and moves further down to where the rest is covered by a pair of low-hanging jeans. You’re forcefully pulled from your ogling, hand at your chin, removing your attention from his beautiful patch of hair to his face.

“Y’know, it’s rude to stare,” He whispers. His eyes hold only bad intentions, and you’re happy to oblige, leaning into his touch.

“Kinda wanna do more than just stare,” you whisper back.

His thumb reaches to stroke your cheek. You enjoy the soft touch, hands wandering closer to his torso to stroke the hair that’s been tempting you since he walked through the door, until he catches them in his own with a shake of his head.

“Baby, you know that’s bad manners,” He lets your face go and hooks his thumbs below his belt line, pulling his jeans down even further, exposing the veins that start to run from his v-line.

“If you want to touch, ask nicely.”

The words leave your lips embarrassingly fast. “Can I touch you? Please?”

Your thighs are rubbing together, hands at your side obediently. When he nods his head you reach forward, sliding your hands across his hot skin, nails scratching lightly with each pass, the softest groans escaping Logan with each touch.

“Good girl,” he praises. “Take what you want.”

Spurred on by his words you pull his pants down, boxers strained by the visible outline of his cock. Feeling mischievous, you place a kiss through the fabric, smile widening as you feel it twitch between your plump lips. He hisses in response, fingers curling around your hair.

“Don’t be a tease, or else I’ll leave you here all by yourself,” he says, tugging your head slightly. “We got a deal?”

You couldn’t say no if you tried, so pent up just the sound of his voice gets you riled up. “Promise, just lemme have a taste, I’ll behave.”

He mumbles something under his breath, tugging himself free. Pretty and pink, his cock in full view, still every bit as beautiful no matter how many times you see it. Your tongue peaks out from your lips, tracing every vein with excitement, a smile on your face as he strokes your hair.

“Just needed a taste, is that it?” He groans, rubbing his shiny tip against your lips. “Just needed your boyfriend’s fat cock in your mouth, didn’t you?”

You moan in response, opening your mouth as he feeds you what you’ve been waiting for. Slowly, gently, your tongue massaging the salty skin, inch by inch. Your hand reaches up to scratch at his happy trail and you can feel his cock twitch in response, a gruff laugh vibrating from his chest.

“Oh fuck me, you’re evil,” he sighs. You give him another scratch in response, enjoying the pre-cum that coats your tongue after.

The size of him never fails to make you work for it, heavy against your tongue as your spit runs down your chin. The sounds you make are lewd, sloppy—his fingers push your head further, forcing you to make more. One hand reaches to fondle his balls, the other still resting against his pubes. The feeling leaves Logan breathless, involuntarily thrusting against the wet heat of your mouth.

There’s only a single thread of self-control stopping him from grabbing your head with both hands and fucking your mouth, and you needed it cut yesterday. You force his hands into your hair, stare up at him with your best bedroom eyes, then lap at his balls.

His reaction is heavenly—eyes rolled back, hips stuttering, stomach sucked in as he calls your name.

“Darlin’ you’re gonna kill me,” he huffs, taking your head in his heads. Your lips return to the head of his cock, suckling at his sensitive tip when his fingers tighten in your hair.

You see his eyes darken, your only warning coming in the form of a command. “Keep your mouth open for me doll.”

Your pussy throbs, tongue unraveled as every inch of him slips past your lips and into your throat. Your eyes roll at the feeling, nose touching that oh-so-divine hair that got you here in the first place.

“Gonna fuck your mouth,” he grunts, “Ready for me?”

You moan your approval around his thick length, then gag as he makes good on his word. Every thrust has your hands bracing against his thick thighs, forced to do everything in your power not to choke. Your eyes water, nose full of his musky scent, drool pooling down your chest so much that it leaves a stain against your shirt.

Your brain is filled with nothing but Logan—his taste, his smell, the sound of his moans—it sends your body into overdrive, grinding against the fabric of the couch as he continues to use you for his own pleasure. You’re almost certain you’re leaving a stain against the pillows.

“Real desperate for it huh?” He hisses, using your mouth as a toy. “Gonna cum just like this ain’t you?”

Your lust-addled brain can’t even begin to form a response, but Logan smiles at your fucked-out expression anyway. He doesn’t need you to confirm what he already knows.

When he comes it’s with a shout, leaving you choking against his cock as you struggle to swallow it all. What you can’t runs from the sides of your mouth, his dick coated in a mix of saliva and seed. You greedily gulp down air, a cock-drunk smile plastered against your features as you kiss at his softening cock, then bury your face and nuzzle again his happy trail, tasting the sweat that lingers. The sticky feeling between your legs makes you think at some point you came, pussy still throbbing with that familiar aftershock.

You look like hell, but damn it if you aren’t satisfied—hair a mess, spit and cum staining your skin, tears running down your cheeks—Logan thinks you’re beautiful like this.

“I know vacuums that got less suction than you, fucking hell,” Logan says, still out of breath from what was most certainly a mind-blowing orgasm. He leans down to kiss at your cum-stained lips, messy and unoriented. “Hope you’re ready for me to return the favor princess, because we ain’t finished.”

[atefingers]

professor ! abby x reader

cw not proofread. professor x student (obviously) subtop!reader, power bottom abby, i guess??? she’s so sexy i need to fuck her ough. strap referred to as cock :P abby calls reader pup like once Sorry im mentally ill and have a problem Ok

"hey.. focus."

abby's voice cuts through your hazy thoughts, her large hand engulfing your thigh, grip tight. she scoffs as you jot some random numbers down, shaking her head.

"what happened to my star student, huh?" she pouts, tilting your head towards her. "you're usually on top of it."

you shake your head, brows knitting together.

"i.. i don't know." a simple mumble leaving your lips, too entranced by her hand on your thigh to say anything coherent. "can i have a break?"

abby simply laughs, shaking her head. "fine, but i need you to do somethin' for me." she pats your thigh, small smirk on her lips. she presses a series of small kisses along the side of your neck, adjusting your position in her lap.

"yeah. whatever you want, professor." you say softly, gaze meeting hers, head tilting to allow her more access.

she grins at that, patting your thigh again. "up." abby rasps, moving to lead you back into her bedroom. you know where this is going.

you sit on the edge of her neatly made bed, hands folded in your lap. you always were polite when it came to abby, watching as she grabbed a shoebox from her closet.

"you know what i want, yeah? gonna be good for me?" abby asks, leaning down to kiss your cheek. it's almost sweet, really. you're nearly so caught up in how soft her lips are against your cheek that you're barely noticing her shoving the box into your hands. "c'mon."

you nod, gaze meeting hers. "alright, alright.." you get up, disappearing into her en-suite bathroom to shimmy out of your jeans and take the obnoxiously pink strap out of abby's shoebox, fastening above your boxers.

meanwhile, abby's shimmying herself out of her slacks and unbuttoning her shirt, leaving it on and open, ultimately slutting herself out for you in a way she knows is irresistible. she sits against her pillows, legs crossed and shirt open, awaiting your arrival in the most impatient way possible.

as you emerge a heat spikes in your stomach almost immediately, gaze landing on abby's nearly bare form on the bed. "fuckin' finally." she grumbles, beckoning you closer.

abby laughs as you crawl over to her on the bed, tugging you down for a sloppy kiss.

"gonna earn that break, huh?" she nearly purrs, grinning at your eager nod, her fingers tangling in the back of your head. "well? go on."

you scramble to tug her lacy panties off, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as her wet heat gets exposed to you, hands finding home on her strong thighs. you know your routine, bending down to try and nestle yourself between her thighs, ready and eager until abby pushes you away.

"not tonight. you've not earned your reward, pup." she tsks, grinning when you whine.

abby takes her sweet time getting on her hands and knees, discarding her unbuttoned shirt, hips swaying as she gets herself in full downward dog position, spread open and dripping.

"jesus." you shuffle behind her, spreading her fully open with your thumbs, teeth sinking your bottom lip. "you're dripping."

abby huffs, glancing back over her shoulder to look at her. "hurry up." she barks, her brows furrowed in a pout. "takin' too long."

without a wordy, ou slowly bottom out inside of her, hands finding her hips, head thrown back as if the dildo is physically attached to your body. you start with slow, long strokes, grip so tight on abby's hips you're sure it's bruising.

"faster." she instructs. "you wanna make me feel good, don't you?"

you do exactly as she says, thrusting with more fervor, the sound of her ass and your thighs meeting filling the room, along with your combined moans.

abby glances over her shoulder, unable to keep herself from laughing at the look of pure desperation on your face, shaking her head.

"jesus, you're pathetic." she mumbles. "if you cum before i do i'm flunking you, y'know that right?"

a soft whine escapes your lips, nodding softly. “y-yeah.. i get it, professor." you moan, shifting a little bit, trying to adjust yourself so that the strap isn't directly over your buzzing clit.

abby slams her hips back against yours, a throaty moan leaving her lips. "yeah.. good job, baby.." her voice is low and seductive, pretty blue eyes hidden by her eyelids as she continues to move against you, growing more and more desperate.

she moans as you thrust deeper, taken aback by the sudden switch in your movements, hands clawing at the sheets. "fuck, fuck."

it gets harder to move, abby's walls are clenching down on your cock, she's close and so are you. "don't stop, please." she whines, and when she looks so perfect sprawled out beneath you, how can you deny her what she wants.

your thrusts grow more and more desperate, legs shaking as you try and withhold your own orgasm, desperate to make her cum first. luckily she does, a loud moan slipping from her lips as her orgasm washes over her, slumping onto the bed.

following shortly after, you bottom out inside of her, a whine ripping from your throat, grip on her hips never wavering. "fuck." you fall forward, chest pressed to her back, nosing into neck with a sigh.

abby glances over her shoulder, small smile on her lips. "y'did good." she whispers, still coming down from her high. "take the strap off 'n hold me, yeah?"

she sounds almost needy, you don't waste time, kicking the strap off and sliding into bed alongside her, arm wrapping around her shoulders, smiling as she snuggles up to your chest.

"guess you're not failin' after all, huh?"

[starboye]

Kinktober Day 1

starring: john price x male reader

request: Older!Captain Price fucking femboy!younger!male reader

warnings: smut, cursing, femboy!reader, kinda age play, praise, pet names, unprotected sex, somewhat blowjob, perv!141 team, mentions of masturbation, daddy kink, creampie

how did the team ever get so lucky with a young bun like you, so helpful and cheerful around the base as the assistant to price, always helping the team out even when they tell you no because they don't want you overexerting or even worse hurting yourself so no matter how much you say you could help they make sure you're out of the way when they work on the cars around the base or something else.

hell, sometimes they use you as eye candy while they work, glancing over at your beautiful ass self dawned in some tight shorts with a little skirt around it because price said you couldn't wear that short of a skirt with nothing underneath it around the base so you just settled with putting some shorts under it with a tight button up shirt that had a couple buttons popped open to help with the hot weather.

and each time you caught them looking they would quickly act like they were talking among each other but just to give them what they want a little bit you would pretend to drop some papers then bend over to pick them up, giving the boys a clear view of you pretty ass, letting their thoughts run wild as they thought of the many ways the would use you if given the chance, to the dismay of price who was watching from a nearby window.

so he calls you into his office, you walking down the hallway nervously before stepping into his office, the air was tense as he sat in his chair, arms folded across his big chest "you wanted to see me sir" you were nervous as hell and it showed on your nervous stance "c'mere love" he said patting his leg and you slowly made your way to him before lightly sitting down on him, his hand caressing your lower back.

"y'know i can't have you runnin' around here lookin' like that and distractin' all the guys from their work right" he asked, his eyes glued to your face as you tried to find anything else to look at "yes sir" you stammered "just think of what some old dog like them or me happens when we see you lookin' like a beaut'" his hands now trailing up and down your spine making you shudder to his rough yet soft touch.

"im sorry mr.price" you were getting hornier by the seconds with his longing touches and soft words you just didn't want to embarrass yourself in front of him "no need to be sorry, just where this stuff f'us okay, me and the team and no one else" he wasn't being coy anymore he wanted you and you caught onto that quickly so what would be the harm in acting in your slutty way "so just you and the team, all my ass for you guys" you ask tuning at him fully and straddling his lap, his hands finding and holding your waist.

"ah ah i didn't say the team could have this ass now did i, this ass is just f'me but i'll let the guys fuck you with their eyes" he assured beginning to kiss your neck and feel you ass, your arms draped over his shoulder as you began grinding on him speedily "now how about i get a taste of this jaw dropping ass i've seen so much" he said pulling your shorts off but leaving the skirt for the pretty look of it.

you slowly pull down his jeans down to see the outline of his hard on, palming him through briefs making him rock hard while you both made out "m'gonna need that hole now lovie" he panted slapping your ass and kneading it intently so you did as he said and pulled his briefs down to let his girthy cock fling out, as you spit into your hand and began working on lubing up his dick price took off your shirt and littered your chest in little bites and hickeys, further adding to his boner.

he lifted you up and angled you over his cock before plopping you down, drawing a loud moan from you that price swallowed with a deep kiss "stay quiet now, wouldn't want the others to hear would ya" price urged pulling back to lean into the chair and watch this cute sight "yes sir" and with that you were off, hopping up and down on his dick like a desperate puppy, needy for every inch of your boss and price? well price was just happy he could get some action after so long i mean he could only go on so long with jerking off to some porn.

and with a pretty young thing like you, he was happy as hell to be fucking you, groaning lowly with each plap from your ass against his lap "a young thing like you with an old dog like me, almost like a match doomed to meet" price smirked throwing his hands behind your head and making you do all the work in pleasuring his cock and you were to out of it to even reply, your tongue lolling out with drool dripping from the corner of your mouth "ha m'dick so good can't even reply" price snickered, enjoying the sight of your little skirt flying up and down.

the real reason he didn't want you wearing just a skirt is because he was nervous the others would be so desperate to fuck you that they'd do anything to get in your bed (and hole) so he told you to cover up more, you were now leaning into him, arms wrapped around his necked as you fucked yourself on him like your life depended on it but no worries price loved the sight of your ass bouncing against him and you moaning in his ear like a whore.

"you want daddys cum" price asks now controlling your ass, his hands tightly holding your cheeks in his hand and lowering you up and down on his cock "mhm i want it so bad" you whined, price couldn't believe that with a few words he'd have you begging for his cum and he was so happy that he finally got to fuck you after so long of only imagining it, mentally bragging about how he got to fuck you before the rest of the boys.

"right there sir please keep going right there" prices' cock was hitting every one of your sensitive spots bringing you right to the edge of cumming with price who was loving every second of this so much that he blew his load without even thinking, filling you up with his warm cum making you cum on the spot, littering his shirt with your cum "oh no pup you ruined my shirt" price said looking all pouty but he was joking but you took it seriously.

"im so so sorry sir i'll clean it up" you quickly said getting to your knees and licking the cum from his shirt, every drop of it and making it all clean again, you down below him between his thighs was making him think some thoughts, mainly ones that were questioning how much of his cock could he fit down your tight throat, he started thinking even nastier perverted thoughts when you started cleaning his cock.

tongue swirling around his dick to lick up all the cum and saliva that you made, and damn i must say you were looking insatiable, hole still dripping with warm cum and looking fucked out but still wanting to do good boy for your boss "this is definitely adding to your performance evaluation" price joked as he put his dick back in his pants and helped you clean up with some napkins he had lying around and put your stuff back on, leaving some lingering touches on your ass before kissing you and watching you walk out the door.

you saw the boys running back to their rooms with their pants shimmied down their thighs, knowing they listened to the whole ordeal and jerked off to it, nice to know you basically had them wrapped around your well manicured finger.

taglist:@mailmango@spermeboy@ghostking4m@gayaristocrat@addictedtomalepits@staarb0y@crispysoup318@its-ares@gargoylesworld09@kadenvatsune@fuckshft

[kieranduffysgirl]

Something, Something: home comforts

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x f!reader ˚ ۪ ୨୧⊹.

Simon Riley has never understood the phrase ‘Home Comforts’ before, until he met you.

A sweet and bubbly recruit, always smiling and being kind despite being one of the most hardworking soldiers in the task force. A constant comfort to most people, sharing affection and little tokens from home. Simon always brushed it off and ignored you, until you were stationed on a mission together.

You were staying in a tent in the middle of now where, yet you bought your favourite tea bags, had a photo of your family in your pocket and secretly wore a pair of fluffy socks. He thought it was silly, but deep down he wished that he understood.

Over time, he began to notice the same behaviors of yours around the base. Bringing small tokens or items of comfort, finding love and nostalgia in little bits and pieces.

˚ ۪ ୨୧⊹.

Cut to a few months later, when the pair of you were sharing a hotel room for Price’s birthday weekend, he noticed it more. Gaz and Johnny had claimed a room, leaving you and Simon together, you didn't mind but he seemed hesitant.

You just smiled and unpacked your small suitcase for the weekend, pulling out a dressing gown to wear and your own fluffy socks. You curled up under the covers and reached for the blanket you bought with you and smiled up at Simon.

“Stop looking like that, I love my home comforts…” You murmured softly as he stood awkwardly in the corner of the room, empting the few items in his backpack.

Suit for the event. Pyjamas. Toothbrush. Jeans. Tshirt. Underwear. Socks. Shoes. Deodorant.

Nothing else.

He ignored you and shifted into the bathroom to change into his pyjamas. A pair of navy pyjamas bottoms and a matching button up shirt. It was similar to your own pink, silk button up set that smelled of your candles in your bedroom, your washing detergent and your favourite perfume. Reminders of home.

He walked back in and grabbed a pillow, and laid himself on the floor next to you. No blanket, no chatting, not cuddling, no laughing.

He just laid down on the floor like a dog.

“Si?” You murmured softly as you leant over the edge of the bed to look at him. Propped up on your elbow with an out of character frown on your face.

He just grunted and didn't move.

You leant down and gently ran your fingers over his clothed arm, over his covered tattoos and scars.

“Si…why are you on the floor?” you asked quietly before adding, “Do you want me to see if I can book another room so you can have the bed?”

“No…just go to sleep,” He grumbled, you huffed and draped your blanket over him as you shifted to the edge of the bed and gently rubbed his arm. He didn't pull away but he pushed the blanket away and huffed.

“Fuck off,” He muttered before sitting up to shove the blanket on your lap, scowling through his mask.

You scowled, a change from your usual softness, and pulled your blanket around you. “What's got your knickers in a twist, Simon Riley?” you questioned harshly, but no where near any way that could hurt his feelings.

He just sighed and gestured to you, tucked up in bed in your pretty pajamas, hair all soft and silky, a sleep mask on your head, with your favourite stuffed animal beside you.

You raised an eyebrow and murmured, “Si…what's wrong?” seeing how his gaze softened when he watched you in bed, your own gaze becoming sympathetic.

“This home comforts bollocks you always go on about…I don't understand it.” He grumbled, still sat on the floor with the pillow next to him.

You leant forward gently and eased up his mask, “It's just little things that remind me of home…my little house, near the sea…with my Ma and Pa down the road…my Grandma in the village…all the little things that make me feel warm…”

He sat there, now without his mask, and tears brimming in his eyes. He gently reached for the blanket and thumbed at the soft, fluffy texture.

“Si…come and lay with me…” You murmured softly as you shifted over to welcome him, gently draping the duvet and soft blanket over him. With a soft smile you found a comfortable spot next to him and held your stuffed animal.

He just stared tearfully and whispered, “I want it…that bollocks…all the comfort shite…” His arm brushed against yours, causing tingles to run up and down his clothed biceps.

You nodded softly and gently shifted closer, “You can share mine…we'll find you some home comforts, love…” Your side was close against his now, making him feel warm and almost relaxed.

You tenderly guided one of his hands to your stuffed animal as you rested on him and started to quietly hum. A song from your childhood, another little home comfort.

He relished in the sound of your singing as he rested his head on yours and petted the stuffed animal as quiet, secret tears spilled down his scarred and burned cheeks. The tears pooled in your silky tresses, creating a tender bond between you both.

You woke up the next morning to him nosing at your cheek in his sleep, clutching you and your stuffed animal close to him as he snored softly and drooled through the gap in his top lip that he was so scared to show others, that you realised was one of the things that made him so beautiful.

It was in that moment that you realised that maybe you could become his home comfort.

taglist: @arthur-morgans-wife @superunkn0wn (sorry the taglist didn't save originally!!)