#M plan leak

[kaitennant]

So here I am again with my joycrispy related tumblr post.

So remember the 2 questions, whether the flaming sword is

1) an independent entity that takes the form of a sword; or

2) Is given to one of the Cherubs who participated in guarding the gate to Eden or inside Eden.

So, of course, with the sentence

""So he drove out the man; and placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life."

--Genesis 3:24, KJV

Our answer lies in the sentence itself. The "and a flaming sword which turned every way", which means that the sword itself is independent and is not wielded by any of the Cherubs in that scene. It turned every way without any help from the Cherubims present.

And yes, joycrispy is yet again right about the flaming sword. It was never meant to protect the first woman in history but to protect the tree of life from anybody dead or alive. Creature or not, the sword will protect the tree from it.

[sibyl-of-space]

working around the holidays in retail: hell on earth

working around the holidays in social services: NUTS working around the holidays in admin/facilities at an office job: literally free money let's go

[rbfclassy]

MANHANDLE ME! — JJK MEN

SYNOPSIS...headcanons on how the jjk men manhandle you in bed

INFO...jjk men (toji, sukuna, gojo, geto, nanami) x fem!reader, true form!sukuna, dacryphilia, rough sex (no like actually), this is all consensual btw, no choso bc I cannot picture him for some reason lmao, manhandling, degrading, all of them are just super mean, name calling (whore, slut, bitch), dacryphilia, slapping, tit slapping, spanking, choking, overstim, cream pie, squirting, oral (f & m receiving), deep throating, anal, hair pulling, spit, everything is just very out of pocket, not proofread

OTHER...like and reblogs are appreciated

SUKUNA

we all know sukuna to be such a cold hearted individual and not to mention rough. He is a big, strong man that with easily carry you around and toss you around like nothing, so he’s, that translates to when he is pounding your cunt till you’re in tears. He has you on top of him, on hand around your throat, one groping your tits as they bounce in his face, and the other two guiding your hips up and down his thick length like you were some fleshlight. You literally have no control, never, he uses your cunt, your body like it’s his own. You’d lose count of how many times he’s came in you and how many times you came around him. It was always messy and you were always on the verge of passing out from overstimulation until you felt a harsh slap on your tits. He’d grip your throat tighter, taking some of cum that had spilled from your full pussy and rub it over your face and tits. “Is it too much for you, huh? Too fucking bad. I don’t want hear nothing come out of your mouth anymore except your cries.”

TOJI

another man who is super strong and a cocky son of a bitch. He will literally carry you while fucking you, leaving you absolutely helpless. He has you in a full nelson while standing, his cock pistons in out of you at a relentless pace while you have to sit there and take it cause he’s his hand locked in behind your head. Drool spills from the corner of your lips as incoherent babbles come from you. Your pussy is leaking, so sore and swollen from how hard he was thrusting into you. Your toes curl as another orgasm rips through your body. And since he loves carrying you while fucking, toji will also lift your body against the wall and put you on his shoulders to eat your pussy, holding you there while he sucks on your clit. It doesn’t matter how much you wiggle or beg him to slow down. “Fucking take it, bitch. Awe, are you cumming again? You like being fucked like a whore don’t you? Your pussy is clamping around me.”

GOJO

believe it or not, gojo is mean. He’ll push you on the bed and trap your body between his legs before spanking your ass over and over until it was sore. He grabs a fistful of your hair, taking joy in the look on your face before he drags you off the bed to the floor. You sit on your knees, anxiously looking up at his while he takes his hard cock out. He grips your jaw, slapping your face a few times to hear you whimper. Then he will shove his cock in your mouth and fuck your throat like no tomorrow. He grabs your hair, using it as leverage, ignoring the way tears poor down your cheeks and how much spit is dripping from your mouth. He takes his cock out to let you breathe, roughly pulling you closer to his dick to rub it all over your pretty face. He slaps your face a few times again, forcing his dick down your throat in the process, balls slapping against your chin. “Sluts like to get their throats used, baby. Isn’t that what you are, hm? Yeah…that’s what I fucking thought. Uh uh, don’t cry now.”

GETO

okay so geto is like a menace to society. He has your legs pinned back, his big hands fighting every chance you have to move out of his grip while he fucks your tight ass. Tears are streaming down your face while he pounds into you. You’ve squirted so many times, but geto wasn’t planning on stopping anytime soon. The bed beneath you was soaked with your juices and his sticky cum. You stared up at him with desperation, each thrust from him felt like the air was being taken out of your lungs. You clawed at his chest, biting hard on your bottom lip, the taste of iron on your tongue. One his hands reached up and grabbed a fistful of your hair, forcing you to look at the way his cock disappears in your hole. You watched, dumbfounded, completely lost in bliss that you didn’t even realize you squirted again. “Don’t act like you don’t love this, my cum in your ass. Look at the dumb look on your face, you want it so bad. Just keep watching me use your hole, slut.

NANAMI

this is mean is sweet, but don’t piss him off because he can’t get real serious. He’ll fuck you from behind, one leg propped up on the bed, hips slapping against yours. His hand is pressing down on your neck, holding you in place against the mattress. His heavy balls hit your puffy clit with each thrust and you’re drooling, groans escaping your throat, barely able to open your eyes. His dick feels so good sliding against your gummy walls, reaching your sweet spot. His other hand is swatting your ass, making it as sore at possible, gripping at the flesh, nails digging into your skin. He still has a firm grip on your neck when you cum around his dick for the third time. Eyes rolling to the back of your head as you grip onto the sheets, ass still high in the air. He pulls you up by your neck, gripping your jaw to look at him before his sticks two fingers inside your mouth, laying them flat on your tongue. He spits in your mouth, then on your face, mushing it against your lips and cheeks, pushing you back down on the bed again. “You must like pissing me off, right? Being a bitch, all so you can get fucked cause you’re a needy whore. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get what you’ve been wanting so, so bad, but you might not like the way I do it.”

repost from my old account

[fairy-angel222]

Dilf! Toji helping his college gf study.. with his cock

Leaning against his door frame as he pushes it open wider. A smirk on his face as you shyly squeeze in past his frame.

You’re holding tons of books in your hands, peering up at him through your lashes as you hand them over. “So.. where do we start?” It makes his cock strain when you tilt your head with your lip nudged between your teeth. Curious as to how he of all people could actually help you study.

“You’ll see, doll.”

He sits you down on his lap with a silent groan. Flipping through pages in front of you as he watched your eyes barely scan over the page.

You huffed, turning around with your arms over his shoulder and a pout. “Come onnn, this is so boring.”

“Study, now.” His voice held no trace of playfulness, the deep rumble making you sigh as you turned back around. “Fine.”

You were so restless, twisting and turning in his lap making his grip tighten on your hips. The man’s breath hitching as his cock hardens.

“You know what doll? Change of plans.” You find his fat cock buried inside you instead. Your thighs twitching as you held back the urge to move, to grind, anything. You were so full, and he was so deep. You needed it.

“Please can i move?” You whimpered, arousal leaking lewdly out his thigh at the feeling of him sat directly against your spot. “P-plea.. haah— please.”

Toji grinned, his breath against your ear as he chuckled meanly. “How about this? For every question you get right, one point gets added to me absolutely ruining that tight little pussy of yours.”

Another whimper, “A-and if i get it wrong?”

“Minus one point of course. Hmm.. and let’s just say when i do fuck you. You won’t be cumming for a while.”

Question after question. Wrong answer after wrong answer. You were probably in the negatives already.

“T-toji ple-ase,” you hiccuped, small drops of tears threatening to spill at simply your neediness. You were so desperate for him to fuck you. Your pussy aching each time he turned you down.

Toji watched as you frustratedly wiped away your tears, pulling the book to you for you to read. Actually read. He was impressed, all so you could get a little bit of cock.

You spend at least thirty minutes studying the pages. Confident when Toji started asking questions. And you had every right to be, answering questions correctly after correctly. Your sniffled voice now turned smug making Toji’s eyes widen. That was hot and he fucking loved you.

“Now. Please fuck me,” you breathe.

“As you wish, doll.” He has you flipped over in an instant. Skirt bunched at your hips as he begins fucking into you. Veiny cock dragging against your walls with each starting thrust.

“Ahh— faster.”

Toji swore he could cum right there, speeding up the pace of his hips until he was ramming into you. Your body being rocked roughly against the couch’s fabric as you moaned loudly. Lips parted in thankful cries each time his hips met yours meanly. “So good, so fucking good.” You mewled, stomach tightening as tears welled in your eyes. Good tears this time.

Your back arched, hands hooking around his torso when your body began to tremble. So close to falling apart. “Nngh— Toji, ‘m so close.” You were right there at the edge, letting out a short scream when he reached down to rub at your clit.

“Yeah? Gonna cum f’ me doll? That’s it.. look at that.” He grunted, watching your eyes roll back with the blissful chant of his name. “It’s too bad i said you wouldn’t cum.”

You whined loudly when he slipped out of you, your hips bucking up towards him as your orgasm died down, adjusting to the new found emptiness. “You’re so mean Toji.”

He swiped his finger along your puffy lips. “I know. Now let’s try this again shall we?”

[merakidoll]

this is apart of my pen pal!gojo series! warnings : nickname gogo used, riding, lactation, reader is pregnant, chubby, and a bimbo!

over the year that gojo was released from prison, your penpal quickly became your boyfriend, to now fiancé/ baby daddy! gojo was very quick with impregnating you loving how this sealed your fate to him, how now you had absolutely no excuse to be his. “go! let’s get ice cream!” you exclaimed pointing towards the small stand that had a young man standing there. he walked stiffly behind you, his much larger hand holding yours as he stood back holding your tote, and watching as you told the man exactly what you wanted.

gojo had found that with his obsession came lots of observing. he watched the man eye your large breast as he scoop the strawberry delight into the cone, his hand subconsciously pushing towards you more and wrapping around your belly. “so, what brings you here” gojo couldn’t hide the scoff that came from him, in his mind he was telling the man off, to which he knew you hated when he was rude to people.

you looked back at the large man with a pout, a soft ‘calm down i’m yours’, then turned back with a soft smile. “i wanted to see all the tables people had, we love small festivals!” you took your ice cream and handed him the bill expecting him to take it, but gojo knew he wasn’t - he knew he was gonna touch your hand, - caress your brown skin and tell you “it’s on the house gorgeous”.

now, gojo had many plans come that night. him pulling you away from the festival and to the car quickly driving home - to which he would be fuming. and the only thing that could ever calm him was you. “gogo, you’re all that m-matters to me” your pussy wrapped deliciously around him, your small bounces while he sucked on your leaking breast, crystal blue eyes shut and savoring all of your bodily flavor. he unlatched his salivating mouth and looked up at you with the sweetest eyes.

“only mine?” he bucked into your cunt, spreading your cheeks and bringing his mouth back to your brown nipple that to his eyes were screaming for attention. “o-only yours gojo, my sweet b-boyymm” at the sound of your words gojo’s angry vanished. the milk from your breast was already sizzling the fire within; but your words made him melt into a puddle. you bounceed on him, letting him hear all of your pretty sounds and the feeling of you pussy tighten around him as you came. “who’s pussy doll?” he slapped your ass, watching your pretty eyes roll to the back of your head. stimulation of him still moving as you orgasmed making you go wild.

“y-yours! y-yours gojo!” he smiled sisterly, bucking into you more, laying your head on his broad shoulder as he rubbed your back filling your pussy with his thick seamen. “mmh, and this dick is all yours baby.” he kissed your cheek becoming still and enjoying the closeness of cockwarming. he ignored the way your pussy dripped down onto him, the mix of you both combine. he enjoyed the soft snores you gave and deep sighs into the silence. all while his mind ran wild with thoughts. thoughts of when he put you into your sheared bed, after a nice bath how he’d be making a quick outing. to the man who deared try to flirt with you; especially in front of him.

[beautysamour]

sitting on miguel o’hara’ face ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

— a/n: i’m ovulating. so.

warnings ﾟ𐦍༘⋆: some vulgar language

“Just sit.”

Miguel loudly sighs as he tugs on your thighs for the nth time, his dick painfully straining against his pants as he watches your wet pussy leak right in front of his face. The cum from the last round dripping down the side of your right leg.

“Miguel,” you whine. Your thighs shake as you weakly try not to fall right onto his mouth.

He tugs again, “Cariño, are you trying to edge me?” He whines out.

You moan, the very thought of him cumming inside his pants just from eating you out causing all coherent thoughts in your brain to rot.

“Come on, mi vida.”

He tugs a little harder and it does the job. You let go of all the resistance in your body and fall straight down onto Miguel’ open, watery, mouth—and you swear you almost pass out at the sensation of his wet, thick, tongue immediately plunging itself deep into your pussy, the squelching noise you hear almost makes you want to cry from the embarrassment.

You close your thighs around Miguel’ head and push yourself down into his mouth, your breath hitching in your throat as the nub of your pussy brushes against his nose.

“Miguel—“ you choke, a moan immediately escaping you when he moves his entire head with a long stroke, his nose rubbing against your clit.

He hums and your hands fly up to the headboard of the bed, and you grip on for dear life.

“Miguel,” you say and it come out as a wispy breath, “Miguel—!”

You arch your back as his lips close around your clit. Your mouth hangs open forming an “o” shape and Miguel’ hands go from your thighs to your ass to keep you on his face and to push you down even more.

The twitching of your body only gets worse when he starts to move you, you’re practically grinding his entire face now.

“Mi—Miguel,” you stutter as his hands start to roam up and down your hips and lower back, “C—close—!”

His hums and mumbles something into your pussy—the vibrations send you to the very edge and you’re right there, ready to go over the edge, ready to suffocate him with the intensity of your orgasm if you haven’t already with your pussy—

But then it stops. His hands travel up to your hips stilling you completely and then he lifts.

If you were embarrassed by how wet you were, that is nothing compared to how embarrassed you are now.

Below you was actually the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen. Miguel, wet hair clinging on the sides of his face with your wetness spread all over his face, some even trailing down his neck as most of you was on his lips.

You couldn’t help yourself, you were way too close to the edge and he was way too beautiful for you to keep your composure, so all the prior wetness on his face was now mixed with your very new cum.

With half opened eyes, thanks to your cum, he smirks as he licks his lips.

Fuck, had he shown a fang you probably would’ve came again right then and there.

“S—sorry,” you say in between stutters. Having an orgasm while getting eaten out is one thing, but having one from just looking at him? The embarrassment was too much.

He lets out a deep, low chuckle before moving you away from his face. He fights back a moan as your wet pussy hits his chest.

“I’ll go get a towel for you,” Miguel grips your thighs before you can start moving, wetness leaks from your pussy.

“No need, mi amor,” he looks down at your pussy then back up at your eyes, his own still half lidded, “‘m not planning on wasting any of it.”

[fettuccin-e]

Honey-Sweet

Description: You're far too sweet for him. He's determined not to ruin you, despite the fact that he seems to ruin everything, and everything about you just seems to make his fantasies worse. But one night can change everything, apparently, when Miguel finally sees how completely not sweet you can be.

Tags: Miguel O'Hara x Reader, afab!fem!reader, hoooh boy a lotta smut okay, oral (m and f recieving), unprotected piv (pls oh pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids), riding, doggy, missionary, some fluff bc i'm not completely deranged, light degradation (w/c: 2.1K)

A/N: oh lord the Miguel brainrot is REAL folks okay this is fucking crazy. I WANT THIS MAN TO **** ** **** * ****** ******* okay he has me fuckin frothing at the DAMN MOUTH actin like a DAMN DOG okay so please enjoy a bit of a miguel smutfest

You’re too fucking sweet for him. That’s what he tells himself. Miguel O’Hara doesn’t do sweet.

You’re fucking sweet with the way you bring cookies in for the other Spiders that accompany you on missions. You’re sweet in how you brought in a ridiculous hand-made baby blanket for Mayday when Peter first brought her in, emblazoned with his Spider-Man logo to wrap her up tight in. You’d kissed the baby on the head, whispering tiny sweet nothings into her bright red hair, and Miguel had had to hide the emergence of his fangs at the sight of it.

You’re too sweet, too kind for him. You organize little movie nights at the office, you make him stay a little longer on missions so you can see the tourist spots from different universes. And the way you look at him, all wide-eyed and bright and smiling… it does things to him.

It makes him want to bring you flowers, kiss you on the cheek. It makes him want to plan fucking candle-lit dinners and bake cupcakes with you. All sweet, too sweet.

But, because he apparently can’t stop himself, you also want to make him do decidedly not sweet things. Like grab at your tits through your suit, pinching your nipples until your knees go weak and you whimper his name in your gorgeous little voice. Like force you down on your knees, fucking his cock into your hot mouth while tears leak down your cheeks. Like tying you up with his webs, eating your pretty cunt out while you struggle against them, whining that “it’s too much, too much Miguel.” Like fucking you deep, so fucking deep on his cock, making you squeeze around him while you scream for him, beg for him to fill you up with cum. He thinks about watching it leak out of your achy pussy, dripping down your thighs.

But you’re so goddamn sweet, too gorgeous and lovely, and he can’t ruin you, he can’t. 

So when you finally wear him down, finally get him to go to coffee with you, he tries to be just as sweet as you. You hold his fucking hand, you kiss him on the cheek. You smile into his mouth as his lips meet yours in front of your apartment door. Miguel swears that his heart will pop with how much it swells when you’re near him.

He brings you flowers, walks you to your door, brings you lunch while you’re filing post-mission paperwork. And God, it’s beautiful. It’s fantastic and bright and so wonderfully domestic that Miguel wonders if he’s died, gone to some heaven he doesn’t deserve. He’s determined to revel in the domesticity of this… thing he’s created with you, his disgusting fantasies be damned.

He doesn’t like to think about how he has to fuck his hand after he drops you off at your house, his lips still burning with the touch of your soft, soft kiss. He thinks about how your lips would look stretched around his dick.

He’s content. He’s happy. For the first time in so fucking long, he’s happy. And he’ll happily tug on his dick by himself for the rest of damn time if it means that he gets to revel in your soft, pretty, wonderful sweetness for a little bit longer. He will not ruin you.

But.

As he kisses you softly in front of your apartment, the both of you still suited up from your latest mission, you tug him closer. You pull him down into your hungry mouth, and you lick into him like you’re starving for it. He can’t help how he growls at the feeling of it, his big hands coming to clutch at your hips. God, you’re pretty, fucking addicting with the way your tongue tangles with his and how you whimper when his hands cup your ass, tugging you up just that extra inch.

“Take me to bed, Miguel,” you gasp between feverish kisses, and fuck, he’s gone.

He hauls you into his arms, and his knees almost go weak at the way you wrap your thighs tightly around his middle, the way you lick into his mouth all over again.

And Miguel has spent so much time in his head, thinking, no, knowing that you’re sweeter than goddamn pie. It’s in every fucking breath you take, every moment he spends with you. 

But that night, as he lays you onto the bed, gently, gently like you deserve, he learns that you’re not as sweet as he thinks you are.

Not at all.

Not with the way you roll him over with your strength, begging for him to disengage his suit, looking at him like you want to devour him as it dissolves around him, leaving him bare to your gaze. You graze a reverent hand up his chest as he heaves under you, whispering, “God, can’t believe I’ve waited this long to have you like this. You’re so pretty, Miguel.” 

Pretty. Pretty? He can’t be the pretty one, no, not when you’re unzipping your own suit, and he can see everything. Every inch of supple, soft skin. Your nipples, hard and peaked and begging for his touch. Your pretty, pretty pussy; he can see how you’re practically dripping, the wetness between your legs glistening in the soft lamplight.

And you’re not sweet, not sweet at all, when you nip and suck little marks down his chest and abs, grinning up at him like a damn siren when he gasps at your touch. Fuck, you’re the opposite of everything he thought when you take his cock into your mouth, bobbing deeper, deeper until you just can’t anymore, jacking the rest of his cock while you kiss and lick and suck at him.

You grab his hand with your free one, and pull it into your hair. You pull up from his cock, and Christ, there’s a line of your spit that connects you to his throbbing tip, and Miguel thinks that he might die. 

“Fuck my face, baby?” you rasp, and yes, that’s it, Miguel is going to fucking die here. But he can’t refuse you, with those gorgeous eyes gazing up at him, the tip of his cock on your tongue. 

It’s not sweet, not at all, when he forces your head down on his cock, pressing himself deep into your pretty little mouth. And you moan like you love it, just taking it as he thrusts roughly into your mouth. Your spit runs down his shaft, your little whimpers and the way you choke when the tip jams into the back of your throat all echoing in his ears. 

He can’t hear himself, but God, you can. You relish the way he growls every time he pushes you down deep, telling you that, “You’re such a good girl, hermosa. Mierda, mi nena perfecta.” Your pussy throbs.

He isn’t soft, isn’t gentle like he told himself to be when he pulls you off his cock. You gasp for air, and Miguel groans as he pulls you up by your hair, dragging your spit-slick lips to his mouth. He can taste himself on your lips, all sticky and hot and puffy. 

You whine against his mouth, murmuring little pleas of “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” into him, and his cock twitches, red and aching desperately for your touch. 

“Have to make sure you’re ready,” he mumbles, even though he aches, even though his claws threaten to show. 

“Nononono,” you whine, and then you sit back, hovering over his cock, fucking monstrous compared to the tiny opening of your dripping pussy, and press down.

Fuck, it’s like heaven inside you, all perfect and wet and hot, and you whine, muttering that, “It’s so fucking big, God, stretches me so perfect, so fucking perfect, so much bigger than I could have dreamed-“

“Nena,” he interrupts you with a hoarse groan of his own, “gotta stop, ‘s gonna, gonna hurt you, oh fuck-“ 

And you grin at him again, filthy and raunchy and not sweet at all, as you say “I fucking want it to hurt, Miguel. Wanna feel you in the morning, wanna feel you all the time.” And you press yourself the rest of the way down his thick cock, gasping for air, your hips twitching like they can’t decide whether to run away from the sensation or seek it. 

“Fuck, wanna feel you all the time,” you murmur and Miguel can’t decide whether you’re actually talking to him or not. “Want you to fuck me so hard I can’t breathe, fill me up so fucking perfect, God, oh my God, ‘m so fucking full,” you roll your hips forward in desperate little circles, a weak attempt at getting him deeper. An endless stream of “fuck me, fuck me, please please please,” starts to leave your lips again, and you sound so desperate, so needy, that Miguel can’t help but roll you over, pinning you underneath him, and fucking his cock so hard and so deep into you that you dig your fingers into his back and sob.

He does what you ask that night. He fucks you and fucks you and fucks you, until tears leak from your eyes and your bed is soaked with a mixture of yours and his cum. And God, you scream for him, begging him for more, deeper, harder.

The slick sounds of your bodies meeting over and over must be heard all over the building, but Miguel can’t bring himself to care, not when he’s able to fuck you like this, disgusting and filthy.

How could a sweet, lovely, soft thing like you love this so much?

From that night on, it seems that all bets are off. From that night on, it seems that you make it a mission to show him exactly how not sweet you are.

Fuck, there’s no sweetness to you when you hump your hips into his face the next morning, practically smothering him in your pussy as you squeal and tangle your fingers in his hair. He digs his fingers so hard into your thighs that he’s sure they’ll bruise, and licks up your juices. Your pussy is honey-sweet on his tongue.

You’re not soft when you ride him into the mattress, throwing yourself down onto his cock and moaning as you stretch yourself out. You drag your nails down his chest as you bounce desperately in his lap, and Miguel kind of hopes you draw blood.

There isn’t an ounce of innocence when you sink down on your knees under his desk when he’s in a goddamn meeting, pulling his cock out and sucking at him until his claws shoot out and leave splintering holes in his desk. He has to hide his fangs from the video camera when you choke. 

When he finally, finally cuts the meeting short, feeding the other Spider-Men some bullshit excuse about a new anomaly, he presses your head to the base of his cock and shoots his cum down your throat. He means it as a punishment, but when he pulls you off his cock, and sees you with your eyes all glassy and smiling lazily, he can’t help but bend you over the desk and finger fuck you until you cry and scream and beg for him to fuck you with his cock.

You are so far from sweet when he fucks you on the floor after a mission, tensions run too taut and adrenaline racing through your veins. You throw your ass back onto him with every thrust into your sloppy cunt, moaning as he growls, “Such a fucking slut, can’t get enough of this cock, huh? My sweet, sweet girl, what would the rest of the Spiders say if they knew what a fucking whore you are for me?” 

And when you choke on your spit around your screams, he leans down to whisper that, “I know, cariño, I know. I'm gonna take care of you,” before he shoves your face down into the carpet and mounts you, shoving his fat cock down into you again and again and again.

Miguel is positive that he’s died and gone to heaven.

It’s not to say that you’re not the same, sweet girl who brings cookies to the office and holds his hand. No, you’re the same, perfect, sweet girl, only that you let him thank you for the cookies by eating you out on the kitchen floor. You hold his hand while you jerk his cock and swallow his moans with your kiss.

You’re just the right kind of sweet for him.

[miupow]

★ ── LE SEXE, JE VEUX DIRE !

what happens when you give the hyung line an aphrodisiac 。 。 。?

꒰୨୧ ꒱ pairing。stray kids hyung line x fem!reader genre。 pure smut , pwp warnings。 aphrodisiacs , sex while intoxicated , breeding kink , primal play , vaginal fingering , oral (m. rec) , deepthroat , unprotected sex , creampies , masturbation (m. rec) , phone sex , diy porn , sex while filming

a/n ⸝⸝ requested skz version of my txt drabble! i’m lowkey not a big fan of this… but here it is anyway lol. [ 0. 7k words ] ⸝⸝ [ m. list ]

𝔅ANGCHAN

chris is completely sure the aphrodisiac candies you purchased wouldn't do a thing, just a silly marketing gimmick printed all over the foil packaging he turned over in his hands. but you had gotten them as a surprise, and the last thing he wants to do is hurt your feelings– so he casts aside his doubts and eats his share with a smile, ready to put on his best show of pretending to be affected. he wouldn't even be really acting, since you can get him going no matter what... yet to his complete shock reduced to a mess within minutes, panting and squirming above you, his hips canting up to press the swell of his clothed cock against the curve of your ass. his control slips when you grind back against him, pussy drunk and unable to think of anything other than fuck, claim, breed as he flips you over and mounts you like an animal. he’s definitely having you get more of these.

𝔐INHO

minho’s immediate response to you showing him the chocolates was to scold you for wasting money on worthless placebos. there was no way you believed that they would actually do anything, right? but he eats them with you anyway, because you’re very persuasive when you’re pouting. he’ll tell you they did nothing for him at all, as he’s knuckle deep in your pussy, your hot little mouth swallowing his cock to the hilt. he didn’t feel a thing, as he’s lining up his weeping tip to your entrance. he’s completely unaffected, watching with dark hazy eyes as his thick cum leaks out of your hole. those stupid chocolates had nothing to do with how he fucked you until the sun came up. and you let him believe it, because it gives you an excuse to try it again.

𝓒HANGBIN

changbin always finds some way to derail your plans… you had hidden some aphrodisiac chocolates your had bought in hopes of surprising him with them later, but you were never the best at hiding things— your boyfriend finds them within the first day. mistaking them for regular candy, he eats them without a thought; and hours later he calls you desperately from the studio, hiding in the bathroom with his pants around his knees as he fists his aching cock. the lewd wet sounds echo against the tile and harmonize with his pretty low moans, all filtering directly into the phone’s speaker and making your pussy throb. “i need you so bad,” he whimpers, his hand speeding up, “need your pussy so bad…” detailing in a needy groan every nasty little thing he planned to do to you once he got home, the growl in his voice enough to make your legs shake. you hated to ruin the mood, but you just had to know; “binnie, did you eat those chocolates in the pantry?” “um… maybe?”

𝓗YUNJIN

the candies were his idea, actually— he figured they were a perfect addition to the films he liked to make. you couldn’t even call them sex tapes, with how careful and artistic hyunjin was in filming them… but he loved to film often, and was always coming up with new ways to keep things new and exciting. sharing candies between kisses on camera, hands wandering as you lay tangled together on the hotel bed. the both of you growing hotter and needier as time went on, gentle caresses turning into rough manhandling, tugging at each other’s clothes til you were both bare in eachother’s arms. hyunjin looks straight into the camera with a smirk as he flips you over onto your hands and knees, your face buried in the pillow to muffle your scream when he slides his thick long cock into your wet pussy with one firm thrust. he reaches over to pick the camera up off of it’s tripod, angles it down so it gets a clear view of your asscheeks bouncing against his abs from the force of his thrusts, his big hand pressing down on your arched back as his cock splits your creamy cunt open. neither of you last as long as usual, deeply affected by the aphrodisiac and desperate for release— he makes sure to get the best possible angle of him pulling out and cumming on your ass, pearly white ropes of cum decorating your flushed skin like a painting. you’re his favorite work of art, and he just can’t get enough of showing it off.

[taegularities]

colour me in: palette | jjk (m)

Summary: Breezy mountaintops and turquoise oceans are even more enchanting with Jungkook by your side. Yet, throughout your vacation, you realise — even once you've left the lofty peaks and liberating waves behind, you'll still elevate each other to new heights every day.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; tiny hints of angst, crazy much fluff, smut ➳ warnings: okayyy. a shit ton of fluff. vacation with their friends!!!, kissing, singing, sexual tension, slippery soccer lolll, bit of acrophobia, someone flirts with oc, bit of jealousy, lots of taeun and yoonmin moments, new dynamics!!!, mountains and beaches, jimin/jk moments :'), deep talks, some insecurities, bunk beeeeds lol, mention of homophobia, small arguments, anger, talk about passing of time; explicit sexual content: hotel room sex :O, light spanking/ass stuff, kissing and making out, teasing, neck kisses!!, jk never gets enough, bit of manhandling, pussy slapping, big dick!jk, soft dom!jk, oc is soaked, they're both wearing their shirts/naked downstairs tho (impatience sigh), oral (f. & m. receiving), bit of mouthfucking, soft and rough sex, mention of sex toys, slapping with his dick ig, masturbation, spit, edging?, choking, he likes her bewbs and a$$, squirting, they ruin the hotel room bed lol, showering together; the ending 🥺 ➳ word count: 32.6k ➳ a/n: gosh, it's been mooonths. did y'all miss them as much as i did :') the distance really brought me closer to them. some more of my soul in this chapter <3 there'll be angst ahead, so enjoy this one thoroughly and with all your heart. thank you for all the support, too <3 i can't wait to hear what you guys think 🤍 ➳ listen to: can't help falling in love by haley reinhart (alt. version) | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

DAY 1

“Bunk beds… Fu. Cking. Bunk. Beds.”

Jimin scarcely seems impressed with the change in plans that the hostel is forcing your group into. You haven’t quite yet deciphered what’s going on; you’ve been waiting in the lobby with pursed lips and tired eyes, Jimin at the front desk, discussing details that he’s now groaning about.

“Wait… what?” Eun asks, eyes scanning the group members, all equally confused.

Jimin, as agitated as you haven’t seen him in a while, plumps into one of the lobby’s upholstered sofa chairs, massaging his forehead, seemingly preparing to narrate a tale without a happy ending. He sighs, raising his hand as if to teach calculation to a child, and starts explaining.

“We’d booked three rooms, right? But one of them has a leak.” Short pause; Taehyung clicks his tongue. “So now they offered to keep one with the queen size bed and then get another room with two bunk beds. We’d pay less. Or. We keep the other two rooms with the beds, and still pay for the bunk bed room since one couple will still need it.”

“Same price?” Yoongi inquires, aside from Jungkook, the calmest in the room.

“Oh my god,” Eun whispers, matching Jimin’s drama-loving freak, “this is… we’re being robbed.”

“So,” Yoongi tries again, a deep voice interrupting your best friends’ growing hysteria, “we just pay less and get the bunk bed room for four people, no?”

Eun and Jimin stare at the man as if he’s uttered sheer nonsense; Eun’s eyes squint, questioning how he’d dare separate her from her boyfriend. And Jimin, his expression equal to Eun’s, directs the disbelief between his eyebrows directly at his lover speaking.

But as the options start to waver, Eun sighs, leaning back in defeat as she mumbles, “I guess…”

“Yeah, and then, who’s getting the queen sized bed?” you ask carefully, likely initiating another feud; but what else can you do? You need to resolve the issue on hand and you’re dog tired; you need to nap for an hour at least. “How do we decide that?”

“That’s the question,” Jimin declares, rubbing his hands before he announces, “I think we’ll have to fight for it, folks.”

“…How?”

Multiple pairs of eyes drift to the ceiling in thought, attempting to come up with a fair idea or some game. But their schemes are probably too intricate, building scenarios that aren’t feasible in this very situation; you can already tell.

That is, until Taehyung speaks up, slapping his thigh as he finally answers, “We’ll just go the easiest way we know.”

The fact that Jungkook and Yoongi puff out a breath of air is understandable; as Kim Taehyung’s closest pals, they’re bound to know which thought lit up his brain. But by now, even you understand the man’s tactics well enough, and before you can verbalise them, Yoongi does.

“…Wait. You want to rock paper scissors this out?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“We just pull names? Or spin the wheel? There are plenty of sites on the Internet.”

“No,” Jimin again, “I don’t trust any of you to not manipulate this.”

Voices soon mingle, offended by Jimin’s distrust, retorts flying around such as, “Oh, thanks for this,” or “Why would we manipula—”

“Come on!” Jimin defends, cutting through the cacophony of arguments. “We’re all a bunch of newlyweds! Nobody wants to sleep without the other.”

Well… maybe he’s not wrong there. Over the last several weeks, you’ve grown accustomed to your boyfriend’s warmth next to you; under your head; beneath your palm. His breath against your cheeks and the chin in your mane.

Which is why you tilt your head in slight, approaching worry, leaning into Jungkook’s embrace, his arm over your shoulders. You look at him until he stares back, telling him as the others argue, “This is terrible. I just got used to sleeping with you and…”

But he shakes his head in reassurance, blinking slowly. Gently grabs your hand off his chest and intertwines your fingers, promising that, “It’s okay, babe. Whatever game they want to play, we’ve got this.”

If he says it, you must believe it. Losing would be counterproductive for this trip; you required this time-out with him for the sake of your sanity, considering the weight of the past months.

And thinking about it, you’ve gotten used to his presence too much to sleep without it. You reminisce about the nights he hit the gym late, barely finding time throughout the day as he worked on his exhibit pieces, permanent smudged hues colouring the sides of his hands.

And you, exhausted from work, grazed the other side of the bed with a half sleeping, half restless mind, waking up time and time again to find the mattress empty. Whenever he did come back, sliding into the sheets, you’d notice.

Notice everything.

How he’d kiss your forehead or your temple, whispering your name or a soft, “Hi, angel,” without really expecting a response back. He’d pull you half on top of his body, chest rising with your head atop as he sighed and then, eventually, drifted off.

You think that once or twice, you even heard him breathe a nearly inaudible confession, starting with your new favourite letter L.

But…

It seems that today, luck isn’t quite on your side; different from what he foretold, you haven’t got this. Because mere five minutes later, you’re staring into a group of shaking heads and devastated faces.

Jimin and Yoongi have lost already; and when it’s time to decide between the remaining of you four, it’s not you who breaks into cheerful laughter but the couple you’ve decided to regard with a pout for the rest of the trip.

Unnecessary to mention that Tae and Eun dash into their room once they’ve received the key, quick enough for their suitcases to collide with their soles as they roll behind them. The two remaining duos, among them a sighing Jungkook and a disappointed you, trudge to the bunk bed room without any rush.

Jimin and you sulk your way through the hallways, but Yoongi and Jungkook, you soon notice, remain familiarly posed. You don’t get it; aren’t they upset about the separation?

Your boyfriend at least is still sporting an encouraging smile when you open the door to the frustratingly compact room. The two pairs of bunk beds have a sufficient distance between them, but the beds themselves barely fit a person. You’ve been played so bad.

“And what if we do take the second double room and let fate decide between us?” Jimin suddenly suggests, and you nearly buckle, ready to get into position and lift your fist for another game.

But Yoongi pushes between the two of you, clicking his tongue, “Nah. It’s just two nights, we’ll be moving on after that anyway. Besides,” he sets his suitcase against the left bunk bed, claiming it, and ruffles through his long, dark hair, “we can’t leave the last couple all alone here.”

You smirk in mock, tilting your head, “Ha-ha. You’re way too sure of victory. You wanna try right now, Min—”

“Come on,” Jungkook tries, two heavy hands settling on your shoulders before he moves them down and rubs your shoulders in affection, “solidarity, baby. It’ll be fun.” He moves in, close to your face, kisses your cheek and then whispers into your ear, “We’ll have our room at the beach. And then a whole week just for us, remember?”

Oh, as if you could forget.

Jungkook’s hometown will be the third and last stop of your vacation, a wedding and a childhood bedroom awaiting you. You can’t predict what those days in the countryside will bring, but you refuse to think about them; not because you’re reluctant to go, but because you want the place to surprise you.

Nevermind that the thoughts still seep through all the time; the pure elation.

Your face warms at the thought; you’ve communicated it a million times and will say it a billion times more — you don’t think you’ve ever been this pumped in your life.

No — do not think about it. Let it come to you… carpe diem and all that.

You jump back into the moment, right into the banter, placing your suitcase on the floor and opening it to rummage for today’s outfit. As you shamelessly lay open your entire wardrobe, including some of your best lingerie, you tease, “Okay. I’ll save up my energy. More tonight, boys.”

Jimin blows a raspberry at you; Yoongi waves you off with a grin; and Jungkook barely reacts to you. You assume he’s tired from all the driving, requiring rest more than you, eyes half-lidded.

But if you were in his head, you’d know that he’s long dissociated from the conversation, blending out words, movements, reactions; rather, he merely observes your smile. The playful crease between your eyebrows. The curve of your lips as you speak.

Blinking slowly; lucky for the force of nature wafting into his life like a brisk autumn wind.

Lucky, knowing that somebody could actually care so much.

The pullover doesn’t feel as soft and smooth between your fingertips as it looked from afar. You don’t think you’ll take it. But the beige cardigan felt like a shawl made of accumulated feathers against your body; and Jungkook approved of it, too.

You’re liking the village; maybe it’s the overall dreamy and magical vibe it emanates. It’s redolent of cosy nights spent in front of a fireplace, a hot tea cup warming your palms as you study the view out of a small window, the far-reaching blankets of snow.

And the scent of wooden houses and cinnamon travels through this place — you can’t describe it, but you urge to take all the earthy colours with you.

The pink dress, however, hugging your body like second skin, is bright, the opposite of the cardigan you’ve already settled on buying. It’s a fall dress, comfortable and adaptable to any situation.

You turn in front of the mirror, inspecting your ass, your curves, checking the length and the material for possible flaws. And once you’ve convinced yourself, you push the curtain aside, seeking a second opinion from the man patiently sitting in front of the changing room.

Upon seeing you, his eyes brighten the way they did the last couple of times. Even when he didn’t quite like the item you chose, he seemed happy to just see you. But this time, his pupils flit from button to top, the sparkle in them already obvious as he says, “Damn.”

“I take it you like it as much as I do.”

“Do one of your three sixty spins.”

He loves those. Enjoys it when you present yourself with that treacly smile of yours, arms angled and slightly in the air. And when you come to a stand again, the dress still sways, your eyes questioning, sweet, pure. Jungkook finds joy in this; he could look at you doing this all day.

You keep asking, “Are you bored? Wanna go somewhere else?”

And he always responds, “No. Show me another one of the dresses.”

But no matter how boundless his enthusiasm, he can’t control his occasionally occurring ticks — you know they’re a sign of a nervous mind, watching his fidgety self card through his hair or move his leg or cross and uncross his arms.

So you ask, “You okay?”

“Hm? Yeah. Yeah, I think I’m just tired,” he explains, “driving all day made me drowsy.”

Well, okay, that could be a reason. He does get restless when he craves his bed. Kudos to him for still enduring your slow ass at shopping. You hum before you remind him, “I told you to let me drive.”

“Yes, but…. I like driving,” he shrugs his shoulders, pouting a little, “and you were having fun.”

Honestly—

Fun is a way to call it. You pluck at the hem of the fall dress, recalling the morning with a fond but slightly guilty smile.

“Okay. Lean back now.”

The road was challenging, Jungkook’s voice too quiet to prevail over the music, and you too reckless. Despite the chaos, his grin was telling — though the crinkles and dimples disappeared when half your body turned towards the backseat; right when the car approached a sharp curve.

A harsh hand pushed your beaming self back into your seat, and he spat a single warning, “Angel!”

You’d separated the large group — Jimin was driving the other car, alternating with Taehyung. The journey wasn’t awfully long, but you still went the fair route and split your circle in three versus three, Yoongi residing in the back of your car.

Your car because you’d be driving on to the wedding anyway, and Yoongi would then proceed the vacation in Taehyung’s vehicle. But while your excitement for Jungkook’s hometown didn’t dim a single bit, you were a little sad that you’d be leaving earlier, not getting more time with Yoongi.

Because he vibed. With the right people, you heard, and now witnessed, he vibed.

He sang along with the music in confidence, flashing gummy smirks, DJ-ing with you. Sharing the same taste in music as you, the moments were never dull, 80s classics chiming before modern hip hop took their place. Yoongi likes J. Cole particularly.

The two of you were exhausting, but you did pamper the driver enough to not let your annoying self become too obvious. As in, feeding Jungkook snacks whenever you could, indulging in his favourite music when your tracks ended, offering to drive.

Jungkook remained in a good mood most of the way, but nearing the end, he got edgy, tired, even disregarding Yoongi’s sarcastic suggestion to drive wordlessly.

It took you a moment to understand — Yoongi isn’t a bad driver at all, as you’ve been told by himself, but he’s still not fully healed yet. None of you would make him and he wouldn’t risk it.

Mad respect to Jungkook for suffering through your shenanigans and then still being your anchor as the trouble about the rooms began at the hostel.

You’re a handful — but he has confessed a hundred times before that he’d rather have that than an empty palm.

“No wonder you’re tired,” you tell him, flattening the already crinkle-free dress before you add, “Poor Jimin and Yoongi. Were separated in the cars and now in the hostel, too.”

“I mean,” Jungkook starts, “they both seemed to have a good time on the way, though. Other than that, have they even made stuff official yet?”

Good question. Barely occurred to you yet. You think back to the last couple of weeks, to each of the weekend meetings that you’d summon everybody to in order to discuss the trip. Nothing was said then. Nothing has been said since this morning, either.

So you say, “Kind of by just being with each other the way they are, right? To be honest, I didn’t even think about it. For me, it was already official… didn’t think it’d need an announcement.”

“Maybe you’re right? It’s as much of a secret as we are.”

You break into a grin. “Right?” And then, you straighten your stance, once more turning to show off your ass, too, just for good measure. “What do you think?”

“Oh, you should buy it.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, it’d be good to look at and then fun to rip off.”

You roll your eyes so hard, they nearly disappear from his sight; partly to hide the effect his words practise on you — face hot, chest tight, legs crossed to ease the physical feeling that emerges.

And then, partly to remind him of where he’s sitting right now — not far from an elderly lady who’s currently side-eying you. Weird; just a minute ago she was smiling at you. Ah, decency.

“Ugh, can you only think about that?” you joke, right before wiggling a finger. “This one’s expensive. You’re not ripping off shit.”

“Hey, don’t scold me. You’re just as bad!”

“I’m not! In case you don’t remember, I totally resisted when you offered to come into the changing room with me.”

“Ah, ahhh,” he teases, cocking an eyebrow, “in case you don’t remember, only very reluctantly.” You can’t suppress the laugh, and he joins, familiar creases around his stellar eyes. “But seriously, you look gorgeous.”

“Right! I’ll wear it to your next exhibition, okay? Or the party you’ll definitely host once you’ve established yourself as the nation’s biggest artist.”

And that’s when he finally gets up, groaning a tiny bit before he slaps your ass and rubs it, delighted at your yelp. Challenges you, “Decide whether you want to be cute or sexy. I can’t handle both.”

“But you do every day,” you say, sulking. But your expression returns to normal when he pinches your butt, and you click your tongue, “Okay, okay. We’ll see what you can handle once we get to our next destination.”

Where you’ll finally have your own bedrooms. Your peace. Your mattress to be demolished.

Excited doesn’t do this feeling justice.

Jungkook must be thinking something similar; at least that’s what you ascertain from the way he tongues his inner cheek, shaking his head. You don’t provoke him further — only blow a kiss before you saunter back into the changing room.

You purchase the dress, stepping into the fall air, and move your head left and right in search of the rest of you. You ask, “Have you seen the others? I think we lost them at the souvenir shop, but they might be nearby.”

“Yeah, they went into another souvenir sho— wait, that’s Eun, isn’t it?”

You squint into the distance.

God, this place is like a Christmas market straight from 90s movies. Traditional and homely, domestic and gentle. Oozes some type of warmth that defeats the slightly chill breeze by miles.

And you’re so loving the shops. They’re small, their owners as hospitable as you haven’t met in ages. They talk to you, treat you like one of their own, never attempting awkward conversation and always providing their honest opinion. The lady you just bought the dress from even told you to visit again.

Shit, and the stalls! They’re popular spots; the backbone of the tourism in this area. Sell all kinds of snacks — candied fruits, hot drinks, gingerbread. October hasn’t ended yet, but you crave your golden Christmas lights.

Somewhere not too far, you finally recognise Eun and Yoongi, too, standing at the punch stall, ordering. Thinking about it, it’s been a while since you ate or drank — and just imagining the fruity flavour, you can’t help but suggest, “Ohhh, I should get some, too. Wanna come?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer right away. Your suspicion from before somewhat returns; his thoughts don’t seem to align with yours right now. In fact, you guess them far away, pondering about anything but punch.

You’re moved to ask again, but before you can utter a word, he answers, “Hmm, no, I think I’ll get a coffee a bit later. I’ll go find Jimin and Taehyung in the meantime, though? You go get your punch.”

You blink at him, not sure if you should try again. But when you can’t find a reason for any deviation in mood, you give him the free space he might need, telling him, “Okay. You know where to find us if you need to.”

“Got it,” he says, leaning in to kiss your forehead, and then walks away when you do.

Just once more, you turn, gaping over your shoulder in confusion; but he seems okay. Occupied by the view, craning his neck to look at the mountain nearby, at the very peak you’ll reach tomorrow.

So you turn away, only for him to regard you a moment later.

Jungkook watches as you reach your friend, Eun’s arm cheerfully wrapping around your shoulders, welcoming you in. You give the stall owner a knockout smile, and once distracted enough, Jungkook directly charges for the shop the two of you walked past earlier.

It’s still mostly empty when he reaches it. One young man, much like him, is standing inside, discussing an object lying on the pult between him and the seller. Jungkook glances through the store window, spying the object of his desire, and then walks in.

Enduringly, he waits for the other man to finish. Seems he is a customer, too, buying his grandmother a gift for her birthday. And it looks like he’s more or less firm on his decision, because not even two minutes later, he has thanked the woman behind the counter and left.

Jungkook, equally determined, points to the purchase he’d like to make, making small-talk with the woman now and then before she disappears in a small room at the back and packs the object.

And Jungkook waits… waits calmly until a voice breathes a, “What you doing?” into his ears, scaring him to death. The woman leans back, peeking, alarmed as she asks in an accent, “Everything good?”

Jungkook waves her concerns off. Lets her work. Turns to Jimin as he says, “Goddamn, dude. Don’t do that.”

“You look like you saw a ghost. Are you hiding something?” he asks, right before the lady walks out and presents the pretty packaging and small bag to Jungkook. “Oh! Is this for me?”

Jungkook pays with a scoff, carefully placing it in his bag and then laughs, “C’mon.” And once the rucksack is back on his shoulders, he bids his goodbyes to the seller, leading Jimin outside and whispering as if you could hear, “Alright. It’s for her. I’ll give it to her at the wedding.”

“Damn, a little present for the date at a wedding? You’re down bad.”

“How did you guess that?” Jimin chuckles, patting Jungkook’s back as the younger one smirtles. Soon telling Jimin, “Not a word to her, though. Or anyone. Okay?”

“My lips are sealed.”

That’s it. At least for a while. Both pairs of hands pushing into their jeans’ pockets at once, they trek side by side in silence, head moving left, right, up and down. It’s awkward until it isn’t — until Jimin collects some courage and then spits, “Listen.”

Another pause. Just for a moment. Enough for Jungkook’s tremendous eyes to look up, a finger scratching his temple as he hears Jimin articulate words he never expected, “I know I said my piece that night already, but…” A grimace, kissing his lips, then, “I’m really sorry for doubting you so much at first. I should’ve given you a chance much sooner.”

Well, fuck. 

For weeks and months, Jimin refused to trust him with a steadfast resolution. Didn’t waver even when you attempted to convince him otherwise. There was a prickly dislike in the man’s eyes that irked Jungkook, and frankly, saddened him a little.

But the night you drunk-called him, begging to come back, minutes before he chauffeured all of you home, something shifted. Jimin’s stance towards Jungkook had seemed to change, at least. Actually a grateful occurrence to think back to, considering how much Jungkook fucked up at that time…

“But you have given me a chance now,” Jungkook defends, Jimin nodding, “and I appreciate that just as much.”

“You remember what I said to you back then?”

Of course… he might remember each detail of that night forever.

“Of course,” Jungkook echoes, “you said you were growing fond of me. Trusted me.”

“And I meant it.”

“She said you said it because you knew she was fond of me.”

Jimin chuckles, the sound high-pitched and pleasant, melodic. “Well, I guess that’s true to some extent. But it’s definitely not just that.” He reviews his thoughts; then, “It’s more so the fact that you came back.”

That he came back.

Jimin doesn’t mention that he came back because you called. Because somewhere within, he must know as well as the man beside him that Jungkook was going to come back anyway.

Nobody here doubts his feelings for you. And in some way, this is a reassurance of trust he didn’t think he needed.

“And in hindsight,” Jimin speaks on, “while I disagree with what you did before that,” a sting in Jungkook’s beating heart, “I think your reasons were selfless. Lack of communication here and there, but… you want her happy, right?”

There’s no debate about this.

“So much,” Jungkook immediately agrees, “it just doesn’t make sense, you know? That someone like her should be sad.”

“I agree. And you came back, that’s what it is. You’re here. I think I was fond of you because you gave her a sense of… safety.” He shrugs his shoulders, hands still buried in his pockets. Gives a glance to the variety of passersby. “Making her feel protected and like she was worth something when others didn’t. And in turn, you gave her something to fight for, too.”

Something to fight for… someone to fight for.

How hard is it to wrap your head around the fact that somebody thinks you worthy enough to combat the world for?

Jungkook’s heart stirs. A sudden affection for your friend awakens. No. His friend, too.

“You’re just half as bad, huh?” he says, urging another laugh out of Jimin.

“No, you.” More snicker. “But seriously. Since we were teenagers and she was first confronted with… all the issues around her, she’s repeated to me everybody has demons to fight. A couple weeks ago she said it again… added that you do, too. No details, no worries!”

He raises his hand in defence, and Jungkook shakes his concerns off, mumbling that it’s okay, that it’s true.

So Jimin continues, “But just… whenever you might feel like you’re not doing enough — because let’s be real, we all do sometimes — remember that you make at least one person happy.”

Crazy. This is crazy. An alternate reality, for sure.

“I never expected to hear this from you, but… I really am thankful, Jimin.”

Jimin nods before he stops, as if remembering something. “And if it helps. I’m really glad you joined us here. I mean you know Tae and Yoongi better, but Eun loves you.”

Jungkook titters, shy as Jimin nudges his arm, but silencing when he looks ahead, not early enough to stop Jimin’s addition, “And by the way, she’ll love that. Will feel like the bride, probably—”

Jungkook grits his teeth at the very last word, as if staggered by another ghost appearing in front. Jimin’s eyes follow Jungkook’s, eyes widening a couple inches as he realises his mistake; met with your bright gaze as you near the men with Eun and question, “What are you guys talking about?”

You’re so cheerful and curious, impossible to resist. Jimin’s lie nearly doesn’t come out, but when it does, it happens smoothly enough, “He was just gushing about your dress. Told me how he already knows you’ll be the talk of the night.”

“Come onnnn,” you urge, your smile falling, replaced by a scowl, “this is so weak. I know you, Park. That’s not what you were talking about.”

“It is!” Jungkook chimes in as shamelessly as he can. Guilt floods him — but there are certain sacrifices that are necessary for love, aren’t there? “I told you many times how hot you look in it. I did, you can’t contradict that.”

Jungkook’s acting might be getting better, but you still squint your eyes, still pulling a face. But it seems they are conspiring against you; Jungkook clearly sees you give up. Understand that you won’t get anything out of them.

Besides, you love surprises. You won’t ruin it for yourself.

So you wave the white flag, only saying, “I don’t really believe you, but okay,” before turning, gripping Jungkook’s hand and adding, “Listen. You don’t get to drink a good punch every day. Screw the coffee, try it for me. Yoongi is still there.”

And as the two of you walk away, Jimin follows, ignoring Eun’s curious look. Focuses on how Jungkook turns to him just a little, smiling in mischief but also in something like…

Friendship.

Jungkook has been babbling his mouth dry. You know of his temporary hyperfixations; alternating between cooking twice a day, karaoke-ing his way through a lazy weekend or playing Overwatch for four hours straight and of course, you.

Tonight, it’s gimbap.

You’ve heard a ton about it today; from his favourite kind to how it’s made to failures in his past as he first attempted them. Anecdotes and urges.

When you went to the restaurant earlier, he inhaled a gigantic portion of jjajangmyeon, followed by kimchi-bokkeumbap that he partly shared with your still hungry self. His idea was to order some gimbap as another course, but his grunts and groans revealed that he was done for the night.

Or so you thought.

Because hours and a trip to the old town and its popular fountain later, he’s still craving them, restless on the hostel lobby couch as he says, “Do they have room service or something? Do they sell gimbap?”

His attention is directed towards Jimin, the main organiser of your trip; everybody’s been posing questions today as if he’s studied the town and journey to the tiniest detail. Jimin rubs a palm over his tired eyes, sighing before he speaks.

“No, this isn’t a very luxurious place anyway,” he explains, “and besides. You’re making me hungry, too.”

Jungkook leans into him as he asks, “Aren’t you quite close with the receptionist?” Pause. “Do you think they’d let us take a couple things from the kitchen and make it ourselves?”

“Wow, you really are craving it,” Taehyung mocks, but Jungkook skillfully ignores him.

“Jungkook, this is a lot of special treatment to ask for,” Jimin then claims, waiting for a response, but nothing comes back.

You lean forwards when your friend shakes his head, trying to understand what’s going on. And when you find Jungkook’s big, twinkling eyes staring longingly, you know he’s gotten to Jimin, too. Because the latter sighs again, adding, “If you charm them, maybe.”

“Come on. I know how to charm people,” he says, regarding you with a wink, a flick of your chin and a click of his tongue, all at once. You whisper a playfully indignant Damn, watching him get to a stand.

He’s brave, you must say; for an initial and past introvert, good food certainly makes him courageous. Jimin first gestures towards the reception, mumbling a, “Go ahead,” but barely a second later, he’s on his feet with a deep exhale, hearing Jungkook say, “Decided to help me?”

“Only because I’m hungry, too. Can make them together.”

Whatever scenario you just witnessed, it could’ve been one from a sitcom. Those little filler scenes, there for comic relief. But what strikes you the most of all is the dynamic you just watched emerge.

You’re surprised to the core; these two, doing something together? Peacefully? Voluntarily?

As your eyes bolt from the duo to the hanging guitar at the wall and then to your friends, you let out a tiny laugh, delivering a short head tilt before you deduce, “That’s new.”

It’s quite a show, the one you observe from here. Your friends are already too groggy to converse, instead indulging in the scene: Jungkook and Jimin as they converse with the receptionist, leaning in, telling the young man about their day.

Then, the quiet plea, as sweetly uttered as possible; you know these two. You know they’re pulling out the biggest, brownest eyes the world shall ever see, the mellowest voices outing their plea — and to your utter surprise, the receptionist gives in.

Leads them to another room, probably the breakfast hall, and around five minutes later, they reemerge.

Your group giggles when they come out with a wink, Jungkook forming a tiny ‘Oh’ with his mouth, as if to whistle without ever doing it. They don’t come back to you yet; settle on another table at the back instead, hands full of ingredients. There’s more room there for sure.

They spread the stuff across the table, rolling up their sleeves. You can’t really hear their conversation from here, but Jungkook says something and Jimin smirks back with a slight shake of his shoulders. Then, they start, but not before choosing a playlist to play quietly as they attempt the gimbap journey.

You can’t believe it. What an odd sight — but good for them.

“That’s rare indeed,” Eun lets slip before she turns back to you and the group, falling back into the couch.

You nod, looking through the round. Different from the two across the room, the atmosphere here is dead. So you wait; wait for an opportunity until Yoongi, opposite from you, gives you one. His eyes roam the room, soon stopping at the guitar from before. He regards it entirely, like a piece in a museum.

You ask, “Hey. Do you play?”

“Hm?” Yoongi looks back at you, puppy eyes in full effect, and then switches between you and the instrument. “Ah. Yeah, I play sometimes.”

“He plays all the time,” Taehyung corrects.

Yoongi raises a hand in something like defence, humble as ever as he says, “I’ve been learning. But I think I have gotten better, though there’s still a long way to go.”

“Any song you enjoy playing the most?” you ask, leaning in.

“Ohh, you’ll like this.” His eyes are widening, waking, sobering up. As you see new stars being born in his dark eyes, you know you’ve introduced the right topic. “You like oldies, don’t you?”

“I do, actually! How do you know?”

Taehyung chimes in, “Jungkook told us. Like literal months ago.”

Perhaps it’s the new sentiments you’re still accommodating yourself to, but you feel the heat filling up your entire chest, moving up to your cheeks and providing warmth in the eye of this autumn.

You peek at your boyfriend and your friend, catching them falling into a goofy cooking session. Jimin grabs the dark soy sauce bottle, attempting to pour the liquid on his plate with the most dramatic expression you have ever witnessed, only to realise a moment later that he hasn’t even opened it yet.

Both of them break into an embarrassed and amused chuckle, Jimin shaking his head, and before you can melt into the leather couch, you look away with a smile.

“Wait,” you say, “in which context? I’m nosy, and now I want to know.”

“He said Yoongi would like you because your favourite song is… what was it again?”

Taehyung directs his gaze imploringly to Yoongi, but it’s Eun who answers fondly, “It’s Can’t Take My Eyes off You. Ever since… always.”

You cock an eyebrow at Yoongi, teasing, “So is it true? Do you like me then?”

“I adore you.”

Your face heats up more. “You didn’t tell me what you like playing the most.”

“I would say I enjoy…”

“Or wait. Don’t tell me. What if you played it?”

“Now hold on—”

Energised, you take a stand, throwing a look at the receptionist who locks eyes with you at just the right moment. You point to the guitar, and he lifts his hand to gesture, “Go ahead, please.”

You take the guitar off its hook, grazing over the smooth, wooden surface and skimming the strings for a tiny moment. Relishing the familiar feeling. And then, encouragingly, you hand it to the man of the hour, telling him, “I know you want to.”

Yoongi is uncaring and unapologetically him, but he’s just as shy when met with attention. Yet, you know him enough to understand he often does whatever somebody asks of him, so you’re barely surprised when he flashes a thin-lipped smile and agrees, “Yeah. Alright.”

He situates the guitar on his lap carefully, treating it like a newborn as he mutters at the same time, “What should I play? Maybe this?”

His fingers strum a few chords that you don’t recognise, tough ceasing when he starts working on tuning the guitar. It takes a moment; a time you spend in silence, watching Taehyung for a second as he props up his head, eyelids half closed.

You shrug your shoulders, telling Yoongi, “Whatever crosses your mind first.”

He doesn’t answer, handling the instrument. He’s focused, his lips slightly apart, his expression impossibly composed. He murmurs another, “This should do,” and when he plays just the first three chords, you already know what he’s chosen.

Sounds like an acoustic version of the song. Like it could be played at a wedding, plucking the strings in the background as the bride marches to her groom, fitting the theme of the song.

“Which one’s this?” Eun asks, leaning into Taehyung who’s barely alive at this point. The music probably doesn’t help.

But apart from him, most of the heads turn, even if just very few present. There’s a quiet couple near Jimin and Jungkook’s table, smiling at the pleasant intrusion. The receptionist puts his lower arms onto the counter, listening in.

And then, eyes still fixated on the fingers skillfully mastering each note, you clarify, “Dance Me to the End of Love. Leonard Cohen originally, but this seems like a very… calm version of it.”

Yoongi nods a little, never stopping the music, but adds, “The Civil Wars. Covered it.”

“Right.”

The ambiance changes immediately. You wish you could lower the lights, embrace all that you hear, save it in your eardrums like a memory stick could. From afar, you notice luminous eyes directed at you, blinking slowly, hands still working, but giving you some momentary attention.

Is Jungkook thinking the same as you? If he stood now, gently pulling you into the middle of the room, would you care who watches as you dance? Could this be the magical moment that soon awaits you in a very near future? Swaying at the wedding…

You break the longing gaze when Jimin nudges Jungkook’s elbow, chin nodding towards your group as if the latter isn’t already watching. It seems they have advanced, nearly done with their endeavours. Not too long until they can join you again.

Another minute passes until Yoongi proceeds to the bridge and the peak of the song, and then another until he’s reached the end. Calm, soft thrums. Fading slowly, snapping you out of something you didn’t know just yet.

Heavy affection crowds your chest, lifting all sorrows off your heart. You’re filled with fondness. Empty of pain. Weighing everything and nothing.

Yoongi looks up at you with another awkward smile, still humble, his lips a straight line. The few people in the room applaud quietly, and as he puts the guitar down, you ask, “And how did that feel?”

“Surprisingly…” Yoongi angles his head, and then changes the movement into a nod. “Comforting.”

“Isn’t that special? Feeling something through the very music you put your soul into?”

It’s how you feel when you write. Probably how Jungkook feels when he draws. To possess something, be it creative or not, that floods you with joy like this is priceless. You think back to when you wrote your first poem. Or when you crafted your very first short story.

The memories are blurred, but you remember the feeling. Putting the dot at the end of the very last sentence. And then, you remember more than just this.

Remember when your father taught you how to play the piano, too, and remember when he—

“You play?” Yoongi suddenly asks, and you look up in surprise.

Oh. What? Your eyes widen, eyebrows lifting, mouth wanting to ask what he said, even though you know exactly which question he posed. But you soon break into a satisfied grin.

“How do you know?” you wonder.

“You talk like you do.”

“I didn’t want to give any spoilers,” Eun confesses from the side, comfortably closing into Taehyung, “so I didn’t say anything. But I’ve heard her play.”

“Ah,” you voice, “not often. Was I any good?”

“As much as I remember.”

Your eyes wander back to Yoongi, the man already working on handing you the guitar over the table between the two of you. You puff out a breath, nearly declining, but then recall that he did this for you, too.

So you grab it for the moment, explaining, “I… I play a little. Dad taught me the guitar and a bit of the piano when I was younger.” You mimic Yoongi’s gestures from before, making yourself comfortable with the bottom of the guitar on top of one leg. “Always enjoyed the guitar more, though. Felt productive, feeling the cornea on my fingertips.”

“Damn…” Taehyung makes, and you smile at him, nodding as if to say, “You’re alive, too!”

“Then you should definitely play something,” Eun says.

“You’re all okay with that?”

“Please,” Yoongi confirms, gesturing for you to start, “you don’t need our permission at all.”

So you nod. Getting used to the steely feeling, preparing mentally as you don’t need to tune the guitar anymore. You start the song in mind, an equally important oldie as Yoongi’s piece; and then you go another brave step further as you start humming.

You wish Taehyung, Jungkook or Jimin could do that for you. They’re better singers. You’re alright, certainly not a pro, singing your words rather quietly when you do start. But it provides you with deep relaxation, and you inwardly hope your voice does the same for the others.

“Wise men say, only fools rush in…”

You don’t know why you chose this song. You don’t know why you didn’t settle with your usual choice. Something about the moment and the starry night urged you to pick out this very melody, holding onto the charm and spark tingling in the air.

Yoongi, an introvert among so many extroverts in your circle, is the one who chimes in soon, singing the chorus and then moving to the third verse. You entrust him with the latter, giving you time to open your eyes that you didn’t realise were shut.

You see the two boys at the end of the room finally emerge, slowly treading towards you with full plates. They plump onto the free seats right under the wall where the guitar previously hung, placing the gimbap in the middle of the table.

Taehyung helps himself to one portion, Eun soon following, but Jungkook…

Jungkook seems to have forgotten about it. He walked to you from one spot to where you sit, but as he looks at you now, you wonder how he moved at all. So mesmerised, like a flawless statue, bambi eyes filled with a tenderness you thought only exists on TV.

If you could guess, you’d say he’s looking at you like… like he’d die for you.

Love. Yearning. Affection uncurbed.

He cradles his cheek, putting his elbow on the arm of the couch, lost as if he’s dreaming. He could fully throw you out of balance just now. If you hadn’t played this song with your father a dozen times, committing each movement to memory, you probably would’ve long failed.

You shut your eyes for a moment enough to catch yourself, hearing Yoongi finish another chorus when you suddenly hear another switch in voices. Jungkook, singing the outro, so effortlessly and tenderly; the tone so angelic without even trying.

You could fall asleep. You could fall deeper.

You never knew you could.

Jungkook is the living proof that, despite not being the biggest sap to walk the Earth, you’ve grown fond of his little gestures. You didn’t think you could feel so shy over the way he kisses the air in your direction, expression so hazy.

A couple months ago, you would’ve never expected not to roll your eyes over his little, gentle antics.

But you’re not. Instead, you’re trying not to let show how much he affects you, nodding towards the applause before you ask, “So I take it, it was good?”

“Good?!” Eun blurts in disbelief, leaving it at that with a shake of her head.

“You keep surprising me, angel,” Jungkook admits, “I don’t know what to do with this anymore.”

“With what?”

He’s close enough for his mouth to kiss your cheek, an eyebrow lifting in tease as he puts a hand on his heart. This time, you do roll your eyes, albeit still going in when he gives your lips the tiniest peck.

Your heart is still in the process of accelerating when he asks, “You chose the right song, didn’t you?”

Yeah. A little dose of Elvis’s Can’t Help Falling in Love fits the situation quite well, doesn’t it?

You merely answer with a flattered smile, nearly going in for another, longer kiss; another touch in your own little bubble, suspending time and the world. But your manners demand differently, so you resist, leaning back.

Only taking his hand until the group comes alive a little more, feasting on the midnight snack that the men handled pretty well. The group changes up with time, seats abandoned and taken, switched with another, the guitar cautiously passed on to Yoongi again.

And then they sing some more. You listen, head on Jungkook’s shoulder, dozing in and out of sleep, in and out of his embrace.

Taehyung is soon encouraged to sing a couple, gorgeous snippets of Fly Me to the Moon, a signature song for him and his baritone voice, as Yoongi and Jungkook assure you. You don’t know when this became a session of nostalgic karaoke, remembering a time you never experienced.

It’s how you pictured these nights to end. Nearly falling into a slumber before the day concludes.

Surrounded by a warmth incomparable to a bonfire; one you’ve been yearning for your entire life.

The end of the night begins with an argument.

Yoongi and Jimin are busy preparing themselves for bed, surprisingly cool-headed after the tumult this morning. They don’t struggle with choosing their comfort in the room, while you pull at Jungkook’s leg as it dangles off the upper bed.

“I’m going to come up,” you warn, trying to tickle the bottom of his foot before he crosses his legs, smirking down at you. “And I will be so annoying.”

“Is that news?” he wonders, and you open your mouth wide in surprise, hearing a chuckle from the couple behind you.

“Babe. I called shots on the upper bunk.”

“You did not.”

“It’s a lot more fun up there. And I thought you’d like sleeping down there.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows kiss, his expression questioning as he asks, “What made you think that?”

Well, now that you think of it, your presumptions were flawed. You assumed he wasn’t too picky, always a deep and peaceful sleeper at home. Defeated, you shrug your shoulders, telling him, “You had a mattress on the floor when you moved into the apartment.”

“That’s… an impeccable argument. I can’t even respond to it.”

The sarcasm drips out of his voice like a damaged tap, and once he shifts to the wall, pressing his back against it, you understand your half childlike, half playful pleading won’t work. So you only tilt your head, squinting his eyes at him, and then drop onto the bed below him.

“Don’t you fart, though,” you tell him, registering a goofy laugh with a fond smile. It’s okay. Maybe tomorrow. Either way, it’s worse than not having him beside you at all.

Yoongi switches off the light, ready to sleep as he falls into his bed with a groan. It was a long day and you walked miles, so you understand his fatigue. You expect for them to snore within a moment, but to your astonishment, Jimin starts a conversation not a minute later.

“We were lucky with the weather. I bet it’s raining back at home.”

Oh… have you finally grown into the type of adults who smalltalk about the sun and the clouds? The precipitation and humidity?

Jungkook answers, “Closer to the equator. The weather is best over here in the fall.”

Then, Yoongi, “Hopefully it’s as nice at the beach, too.”

“It better be,” Jimin chimes in, “I’ve been looking forward to our game for ages. I’ll play in the rain if need be.”

“Oh god, can you imagine?” you add, switching to your left side, hands under your temple. You’ve been thinking about the game just as much — chaos with a big fat portion of craze. “We wouldn’t even be able to get up if it rained.”

“We’d get nowhere,” Jungkook confirms, and you imagine him nodding towards the ceiling, arms under his head.

“That’s what. Doesn’t it sound fun? Wouldn’t matter anyway… the rain would at least kill my competitive side, you know?” Jimin jests, and you already send a prayer above. Not for rain, but for bright sunshine; you cannot miss the ruthless, cut-throat battle that will emerge.

And as if you predicted it, knowing very well who strives for a win and who doesn’t, Jungkook challenges, “Your competitive side means nothing if you’re gonna lose anyway.”

“Dude. Be careful. There’ll be nothing but regret if we end up being on the same team,” Jimin says.

“True, true,” you hear Jungkook respond, just as Yoongi lets out an amused snicker, aligning with your muttered, “Now, that, I wanna see.”

The banter and chatter proceeds for another couple minutes, up to the point where Yoongi needs to shush the quartet. Your laughter ebbs down after his reprimands, morphing into content and tired sighs.

And once the conversation has more or less died, you wonder, “Do we need to sleep? We could just stay awake and talk all night.”

But your suggestion proves redundant — because barely two minutes later, your breathing evens out, calm as you finally drift away. Not a single word anymore. Jungkook rolls over his bed, casting a brief look at you, not quite seeing your face in the dark, but understanding that you’ve fallen asleep.

You can’t stay silent for this long; and you’re not moving. Jungkook clicks his tongue, fond but a tease as he jokes, “I drove all day and still she falls asleep first.”

Yoongi and Jimin’s laughs are cautiously quiet, exhausted, soon giving way to deep breaths like yours until they’ve fallen asleep, too.

Weirdly, it takes some time until Jungkook can join your land of dreams. There’s a strange yearning in his chest that he’s well used to by now; it thoroughly sucks to not have you by his side. And… is this too much?

The affection poured into and onto you, is he doing too much? Feeling too much? Why are his fingers itching and his chest not warm enough, despite the pleasant weather?

You’ve really done a number on him.

The minutes prove long, soon stretching to what he perceives as hours. Jungkook doesn’t know how much time has passed and he refuses to fish out his phone again; the light of the device will only postpone sleep, and he cannot use that for the trip tomorrow.

“Man…” Jungkook quietly complains, letting his left arm swing between the bed rails.

Sleep isn’t an entity to grace him just yet anyway; because as around an hour passes, he hears a sound from below. Sheets shifting, a light groan from you. You sigh audibly, soon going silent, and when he thinks you’re off again, he hears a couple seconds later—

“Kook?”

No, he must be insane. It must be insane how his heart stirs at your tiny, wispy voice. You wash over him like… relief.

“Baby,” he calls out in a whisper, once more moving to look at you — or the darkness below. “You’re awake?”

“Can’t sleep properly. I really hate sleeping in other beds…”

“Right? Me too.” He reaches out for you, hoping you’ll notice the movement, and when your soft fingers get ahold of two of his digits, he breathes out in gratification. “And… I miss you here.”

You hum, rubbing your thumb over his palm, mumbling, “Isn’t it ridiculous? How we can’t go a night like this.”

“Hmm…”

“I miss you, too.”

Patience is a virtue he hasn’t learned yet when it comes to you.

He could wait hours for a hall in the museum to fill. For a visitor to comment on his pieces. He could sit in a room with his father, attempting a conversation; could attempt his whole life to sway your mother’s thoughts. All possible.

But you… distanced from your touch and your lips, not feeling your breath as he does every night is…

Pretty damn shit.

“Wait,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers out of your grip. He hears you mutter a small, “Huh?” as he moves, careful to not hurt himself in the dark.

For the smallest moments, he uses the light of his display to navigate through the limited space, never daring to turn on the flashlight to not wake the entire room. And once he’s touching the ground, agile as a cat, you understand what he’s trying to do.

Quietly, but inefficiently, you protest with just half a heart when he climbs into your bed, telling you to scoot. You say, “Uhm, I… Baby, I don’t know if it’s a good idea—”

But you don’t seem to have much of a say in this matter — because you’re soon outnumbered by Jungkook and his obsession with you, shifting on the bed until you’re nearly pressed against the wall.

He wraps an arm around your waist before the tight space can suffocate you, soon leaning back a little — close to rolling off the mattress? — and pulling you close. The embrace catches your breath more than the cramped area, but it stops your complaints, too.

Winding a little more, you soon find yourself breathing against his chest, a heartbeat right underneath. Your arm reflexively sneaks around him, hugging him close before he laughs and teases, “You were saying?”

“I… I was saying you feel so warm.”

“Mmmh,” he hums, towing you in impossibly close, planting a kiss on your head before resting his cheek against it, “you are, too.”

“Do I feel better than your bed up there?”

“A lot better.” His palm flattens over your back; the scent of his shampoo, his fabric softener and him dizzies you. “Makes me feel a bit less sorry about keeping you awake.”

“Don’t worry,” you sigh into his soft cotton shirt, feeling the lines of his pecs against your lips, “Am exhausted. I’ll fall asleep fast. Especially like this…”

“Oh… glad to be of service then.”

You nod, rubbing his shirt between your fingertips as he moves his hand up and down your lower back, just a little. He yawns against your hair; you know the telltale signs of a drifting mind.

The two of you have gotten used to this. It’s said that pressing something comforting against your chest, such as a pillow or stuffed toy, works wonders on an insomniac mind. You guess that’s what you are for each other.

Even when you’re not home. Even when the space barely suffices for one body.

Which, as you brood over his sudden presence next to you, reminds you—

“You wanted the upper bunk bed,” you tell him. Nothing more; he understands without you needing to elaborate.

He chuckles as quietly as possible to not wake your friends, his hand slipping under your shirt and feather lightly pinching your sides. Not enough to hurt, but enough to tickle you. You nearly yelp, muffling it against his clothes in time.

“Shut up,” he says, thumb running over where he nipped you. “Okay. Do you know why I wanted you to sleep down here?”

You smile. You’re not stupid. As your vision became blurry, your mind shutting just a while ago, the realisation dawned upon you as the seemingly last thought of the night.

“I think I do…” you admit. “I think I figured it out.”

Because.

Because you’ve fallen out of bed one too many times. Because of some days, when you weren’t nestled in his arms as you are now, not caged in solidly, overworked and stressed. Or when you let go of each other in the middle of the night.

And that’s when you rattled down the bed. Just once or twice!

You never got injured or anything, getting away with perhaps a tiny bruise. What was worse was the fond laughter you tolerated when you told him about it, or when he was there and realised. Worried sick, inspecting your body, but still shaking his head in amusement.

Chuckling as he pushed back your hair, but relieved when he found nothing out of the ordinary.

“I’m not gonna risk your clumsy ass to fall off a bunk bed,” he says.

“There’s a raili—”

“Still. One never knows with you. In any case… you’re not getting hurt on vacation, okay?”

You could coo right here, right now. Whisper his name a million times in disbelief and absolute gratitude, melt into him, dampen his shirt. Jungkook is a thoughtful being, alright, but it’s insane that with you, he thinks half a dozen steps ahead.

Mind empty of a response as worthy as his, you settle on a joke, “Is that right? We’ll see about that once we play the game.”

You finish your sentence dramatically, and he answers with a breathy, “Yeah, yeah,” as he kisses your temple. Careful to keep his back off the ladder leading up to his bed, you keep him in your hug, soon detecting in a whisper, “I really mean so much to you.”

“Mhm… So very much.”

It’s too dark to see his expressions clearly; you see him move, see the white of his eyes a little. But even without it, you know he’s blended out the world when you look up at him. You know he’s staring back quietly.

You know what he’s feeling as the tip of his nose touches yours, the bangs of his growing hair grazing your forehead. And when the finger under your shirt draws circles on your skin, touching you so gently, you feel your heart in your throat, hear it in your ears.

Pumping, pumping hard when you see the silhouette’s mouth part before it arrives at yours. Kisses you tenderly. Doesn’t rush or force his tongue in, just lazily moving. 

He cradles your face a moment later, raising your head some more, tilting it as much as possible. The kiss is more like a sequence of innocent pecks, but maybe that’s why the moment feels so intimate.

Because there’s no impatience. No other sentiment but adoration.

As he moves back again, he doesn’t talk right away. Takes a deep breath. Then—

He brushes your tresses aside, away from your temple as his thumb rubs against it gently. His lips hover close to yours, and much like the ever-blooming tiger lily on his golden skin conveys, he whispers, “Love me?”

Your heart.

This treacherous thing — cries and flutters, punctured and whole at once. You’re constantly breathless and speechless, so you wonder how he manages to say, “Please love me, too.”

Doesn’t he know how easy that is? Doesn’t he know who he truly is, what his stardust of a soul is made of? That he was born to be loved. That he’s not responsible for those who do not, rather a ray of serene moonlight who doesn’t need to show anyone that he’s just that.

“No need to beg,” you tell him, “you’ll never need to beg.”

Another beat of silence. He’s smiling, you know. Keeping his heart at bay as much as you are guarding yours. Does he think the same way about you as you do about him?

Of course. Probably. In some sense, you were in the same sinking boat, surrounded by an overwhelming, troubled ocean of doubt; waves of self-hatred drowning you. You know exactly what it’s like to get used to being unloved by everyone; and then to learn to be loved again.

You clear your throat, feeling his body relax; your head returns to his chest, and you say, “You know. It might be a bit uncomfortable, but we could make it work. It’s not that tight—”

“In theory. But we wouldn’t sleep well, right?” he ponders.

Wrong. You soon prove him wrong, unpredictable as you are half of the time when you’re not being familiar to him like the back of his hand.

Because your words soon become slurred, silent not much after, your breathing calm and warm against his chest. Your tiny fist still holds onto his shirt, the blanket alternatively slipping either off him or you.

So he waits until your grip around him loosens. Then, presses a light kiss to your lips, carefully moving away and out of your bed. Ignoring how you hold onto him until the last moment, scared you might awaken again; murmuring in your sleep as you tend to do.

He gently rubs your fist until you uncurl your fingers around his shirt; if he doesn’t do this, he’ll stay here all night. Instead, he furrows his eyebrows in chagrin and yearning; and when your hands move back under your head, he finally bids the first day goodbye and climbs back up.

Eventually descending into dreams of you, too.

DAY 2

The air is much colder up here than you thought.

You can’t recall ever having been on a mountain before; considering your country’s geography, a very ordinary thing that you never really got to experience. Your parents were fans of beaches all over the nation and the globe; didn’t enjoy heights, but depths.

You knew that early on.

Satisfied, however, you hide your mouth in your jacket. You’re glad Eun talked you into packing a thicker jacket and gloves, giving half a dozen logical arguments like the amazing lawyer that she could be. It was fun, packing suitcases together via video calls.

But the wind still hits your ears harshly, and you curse as you get off the cable railway, “Damn it.”

Jimin rubs your arms from behind, the ecstasy clear as day as he cheers, “Come on, no pauses now! We finally made it.”

That you did. No turning back. You’ve wanted this for so long. So you follow the others, walking beside Eun. Her legs are slightly longer than yours, and her steps wider. She proceeds a little faster, so you soon hook your arm with hers, urging yourself to catch up.

You’re relieved when you reach a small platform overlooking not much but the mountain lift and all the stops till the ground. Down below, you recognise the entrance you bought your tickets at. 

Sometimes, along the descent of the mountain, you spot people hiking. They don’t take the lift; they trek up and down, with these cool hiking sticks of theirs.

Jungkook and Taehyung didn’t come with you. Or rather, they’ll arrive a bit after you. Namjoon rang up Jungkook just before you got ready to leave, asking for his apprentice’s time. Something about the gallery and the exhibit.

Yet, extremely sorry, Namjoon told him he could call back later, but Jungkook insisted on listening to what his mentor had to say, presuming it was urgent enough for an interruption in his vacation. And Taehyung stayed with him — partly to not leave him alone, and partly because he’s always dreamed of making an acquaintance with an art connoisseur like Namjoon.

Taehyung apparently has a big thing for art. The only reason Jungkook let him stay at all.

Because when you suggested the same, he rejected your idea without flinching once, prompting you to enjoy these valuable days instead of hanging around at the quiet hostel with him. It took some persuasion and a tender, “Angel, as much as I want you here, I won’t be able to talk to you anyway. I’ll be there in no time.”

So here you are now, content when cold but pleasant air caresses your face. You take in the high trees and the picturesque mountain range; somewhere in the far back, at the horizon, there’s another higher, snow-capped mountain.

And you look for a while, arms wrapped around your knees. Eun remains in a similar position, enjoying the moment; Yoongi and Jimin decide to bask in their joy by capturing the experience in snapped pictures.

Ten minutes later, your group decides to walk on, tramping up a short distance to a bridge Yoongi mentioned earlier. And you guess that’s where your serenity ends.

Because the bridge isn’t as short as you thought. Moves a little, mostly solid, but… holy shit, were you this high up all the time? They say don’t look down in moments like these, but you can’t help, and God, there’s an immeasurable distance between you and the ground and—

It’s not immeasurable. No, you’re an idiot. But you still can’t help it; stare down, gulp.

You reach to the railing with a careful hand. Why do they… how do they…

The others are doing it so easily. The other tourists. And Jimin; moving over it effortlessly, swaying a bit, but airing a sweet laugh. And then even Eun and Yoongi, initially struggling, make their way over, slower than Jimin but courageous nevertheless.

Okay… okay.

You push your phone extra deep into your bag, blinking before you take a deep breathe, repeating a mantra three or four times before you—

Scream.

The surprise of a new voice directly behind you is unwelcome, absolute horror in a moment like this. You flinch hard, reacting, barely hearing the “See?” over the wind before you slap the sudden hands off your shoulders. Your knees are shaking and you’re uncertain who the fingers belong to, but you’re still ready to fight.

The voice isn’t; the startled gasp reveals as much.

You turn, only to find your boyfriend’s eyes ripped open, lips parted. He puffs out a breath, equally frightened at your reaction before his expression turns apologetic. Baffled. Both at once as he exclaims, “Sorry! Sorry, baby.”

“Kook! Timing,” you blurt, scowling in distress, yet immediately holding onto his waist once you’ve grasped the reality enough.

“Angel…” he starts, looking into the hell below. “Are you scared of heights?”

No time to be sarcastic; you don’t have the breath to. So you admit, “A little.”

“I didn’t know,” he breathes, another apology in his words. He kisses your hair to soothe your worries; in some way, it works, even if not enough right now. “I’m sorry. Do you want to go or just stay here? We can stay here.”

His gaze is worried now, and he nods to reassure you, holding onto you. Behind him, Taehyung emerges, comprehending the situation and studying your countenances within the next three seconds until he asks, “All good?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook promises, “you can go ahead if you want.”

“Mmmh,” Taehyung hums; doesn’t sound too sure about leaving the two of you here. “You need a hand? I can go ahead, Jungkook follows.”

Uhh…

“Is that a good idea?” you mumble.

“It could be.”

Could be? And if it isn’t?

Then again. You’re here for a reason. You’d be disappointed with yourself if you just stood here, ruining the chance not only for yourself, but Jungkook, too. You look at him, and he shrugs his shoulders, signalling that it’s up to you.

So you decide, “No, I’ll go. I came here for this, and I don’t know when the next opportunity will arise. Fears exist to be conquered!”

“Hear, hear!” Taehyung cheers, just as Jungkook praises, “See? That’s my girl!”

It helps you, their way to motivate. Cautiously, you place a hand in each of their palms, moving one step after another. They’re determined to take care of you, constantly checking if you’re okay. And it works at first. But.

The bridge seems endless, and the fright yearns to return to you bit by bit. Halfway through, your surroundings look scary enough to put you off balance; you hate that you’re not holding onto anything solid, basically standing freely.

If one falls, all of you do — which, in truth, is sheer impossible. The railing is high enough. But your brain isn’t quite computing properly right now. You let go of Taehyung’s hand, grabbing the railing, but still clutching Jungkook’s grip.

“Go ahead,” your shaky voice commands; and Taehyung nods this time, no other choice left. “It’s okay.”

“I’m right here if you need me,” he vows before walking on.

Jungkook puts an arm around your waist, a human safety rope. His voice is so insanely steady as he spurs you on, “Imagine it’s the amusement park, yeah? Wanna guess the remaining steps? I think it’s… uh… thirty more till the end.”

You exhale, then inhale. Look in front of you instead of down, blinking rapidly before you let out a trembling laugh and counter, “Are you kidding… Looks like a hundred.”

He chuckles with you as you suck in another breath, straightening your back, fixing your gaze on a big rock on the other side. Thinking about how such a vast number of people take these steps every day offers you some courage. Leaves you brave.

So this must be safe, right? Logically seen. You gulp, and then, with your full chest, estimate, “Forty-five! I say forty-five steps.”

And then, you count together. You’re amused when Jungkook curses as you reach twenty without the end anyhow approaching. And just when you take your thirtieth step, he shakes his head in defeat, telling you, “Should know better than to compete with a munchkin.”

You guffaw awkwardly, howling over the wind, “This is actually fun,” not noticing that he’s barely holding you anymore when you jump over to the mainland again.

“What a journey, huh?” Jungkook praises, patting your back. “I’m proud of you. It’ll only get easier from here.”

And it does. As you move on, you soon reach another platform, spiral stairs leading up to the top. It looks a little like the remainder of an old stone tower, half broken, not too high. The stairs were clearly broken; lighter, fresher patches indicate that they were evened out.

Okay, you can do this much, at least.

In fact, you’re the first to climb up, Jungkook treading on your heels, fingers still entwined with yours. And up there, your mouth drops — the view stuns you, frozen in place. The wind blows more fiercely here, but the moment is worth the strong, cold pull of the gust.

Jimin, having reached much before you, must have seen you, because you hear him say, “I know, right?”

Everyone is scattered up here, leaning against the stone wall protecting you from falling. Other tourists are eternalising the moments in pictures, through talking and kissing. Tae and Eun are pointing into the distance, Jimin and Yoongi going around, laughing.

Holy shit. The euphoria filling each one of you is inevitable. Poignant somehow.

You’re above the foggy clouds.

In the far-flung distance, you see the turquoise ocean, merely a day away from wading through its waves; levitating on the sparkling water; thinking back to now and how numerous the miles between are.

And the forests — they’re thick, vast. You wonder what animals inhabit them. Bears? Wolves? Birds you’ve never seen before? Deers and does that have the same eyes as him?

Even the mountain range looks like the sea from here. Is this odd to say? Like high waves, green and dark blue and white and cloudy. So many valleys and so many peaks. Some of them hidden behind the clouds like before.

The birds are flying so close to your heads. And the sun isn’t at its highest point anymore either. You see the horizon coloured in a yellow-ish, orange-ish hue, indicating the nearing sunset.

This was your goal anyway. You wanted to come here late because of these very colours, occupying yourselves with other sights in the morning and the early afternoon. Because you wanted to see what nature bestows upon you.

The mountain will soon be closed for tourists, and in less than an hour, you’ll be heading back down. But you don’t feel any hurry. Nothing matters.

“This…” you finally whisper as you catch yourself, “makes me wanna cry.”

You put your hands on the chest-high stone wall. Jungkook’s arms make themselves home around your body, pulling you in, pushing him close, telling you, “Then cry. Isn’t that what catharsis is about?”

“It’s just so pretty.”

“It is.”

“Like… is this really our world, Jungkook?” You shake your head against him, ruining your hair as his chin moves against your scalp. “The same we saw a few days ago. Those cars and the pressure and the rushing people. All the stress we endure. Or even, our cosy apartment.”

You fill your lungs with the crisp air, more thankful for it than ever. “There’s so much more.”

“There is, right? A lot more,” he confirms.

“Look at this,” you say, chin gesturing towards no particular spot ahead, “wherever there aren’t people to fuck things up, there’s peace like this.” You sniffle; whether due to the temperature or sentiments, you can’t say. “What if we became nomads?”

His laugh is as sudden as your statement, differing so vastly from the rest of the poetry you spat.

He concludes, “I think you’ll really like it back home.” You’re confused until you understand he means his hometown; to that, you nod enthusiastically. “There are so many wonders out there like this one. I want to show you the prettiest places and the prettiest things.”

“…Do you already have something in mind?”

“Of course I do,” he responds matter-of-factly, tapping his finger against your stomach. “I just won’t tell you yet.”

“Ha. I wouldn’t want you to.”

You swallow when he moves in, kissing your cheek, his breath pleasantly warm against your ear. You wait for a second, indulge in the feeling, permitting yourself to believe you’ve transcended this realm and entered another.

But as you hear everyone else’s voices again, laughing and joking and teasing, you remember you’re still very much here, on the same Earth you know. With your everyday thoughts and lives. Which reminds you…

You turn to the side to look at him, his face in immediate proximity to yours. You ask, “What did Namjoon want?”

“Oh, just needed to discuss a couple things. Exhibition.”

“Sounded super urgent, though.”

“I mean, it kinda was,” he answers, catching the strands of hair that the breeze blows into your face, tucking them back, “he needed a status update. We also spoke about the style the gallery collector likes and—”

“Wait. You’re still sticking to your own style, though, right?”

His heart thumps, violently enough to nearly drop out of his chest. When trailblazing artists, already enjoying a remarkable reputation, preach about the relevance of support, this is what they must mean.

Behind someone who does something significant for the world in any way, there’s somebody soothingly rubbing their backs in bad times. Embracing them in success. Pushing them forward, lending them bravery.

You.

You’re who they must be talking about. Unshakably by his side.

“Of course, angel,” he says, “I think having your signature style is always the most important aspect.”

“Good. You’re the coolest, Kook. Just so you know.” His smile is telling, rendering the humble click of his tongue that follows ineffective. He holds you tight, lips close to your temple as you say, “I still don’t know what you’re painting.”

“I will never show you my paintings until an exhibit rolls around. Mostly because you’re my muse. My girl.”

He must think that this doesn’t wreck you inside out. Puts you back together, pieces of puzzles reunited that you didn’t know were lost. You feel something new all the time; is this possible? Surely, there can’t be this many emotions anyway, right?

If you didn’t feel it with your own heart, you wouldn’t believe it…

“But…” you begin, “you’ll let me see those that I don’t inspire, right?”

“Of course. Always.”

Breathing comes easy to you up here. So you do it again. And again. Taking in the oxygen, so entirely different from the one in the city; and soon, you mutter, more to yourself than to anyone else, “This really is pretty.”

He doesn’t answer. There’s no answer to this. Whatever his mind is conjuring and his heart trying to convey doesn’t just have to do with the nature stretching in front of you. Of course it’s gorgeous. Of course, your world’s unique.

Of course, it’s home, and home feels warm, pleasant, familiar.

There’s no doubt that the sight and the moment evoke something rare in him. But he’s seen these things before; when he was younger, he was used to this. What he’s never been used to is people like you.

Those who match nature's fierce, distinctive personality. Those who grow carefully and selflessly; like the trees offering shelter to birds. Or the bees serving as pollinators to provide nourishment for so many creatures out there.

Jungkook doesn’t answer right away because the right response doesn’t come to him immediately. But when he does, he collects his breath, and then voices—

“I love you, angel.”

Your heart skips one or two or three beats. You look at him again.

“People climb mountains, watch the world from above, need to see forests to figure out how good life can be. And that it can be worth living,” he says, his voice velvety soft. “But I feel that way with you every day, you know? I do… I do love you so much.”

You want to say something. You want to pour your heart out. Keep staring at his gentle eyes, serving all confessions at once. But interruptions are expected; so you’re briefly displeased but not surprised when you’re pulled out of your daydream.

Taehyung is gathering the crew behind you, asking for a group picture. You’re soon caught in a short, harmless commotion until everyone has collected at a spot, and you stand in position, yet not before gracing Jungkook one more look.

Mouthing something.

And he sees. In this split moment, he sees and smiles.

If he could be honest… whatever, those mountains. Whatever, them and the adrenaline that comes with them. All the natural phenomena. You’re enough, too — a force of nature, too.

He doesn’t need any mountain peaks when you bring a new high every day.

The lift is crowded as you make your way down again. They stuffed it to the brim, much until a stranger urged staff to stop pushing people in. You’re moved to one end of the cabin while you watch Eun and Jungkook forced into the opposite corner.

Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung will step into the next, and you’ll wait at the exit.

Since it takes barely five minutes to reach the bottom, you don’t fight for a spot next to Jungkook and Eun. Instead, you look down into the depths, waiting until the vehicle finally finishes its dive.

The chatter in the booth is peaceful, but plenty enough for you to blend out any words the other two utter to each other. In that sense, you don’t hear it when Eun says, “You’re both glued to each other, huh?”

Jungkook’s wide, wondering eyes ogle into hers, surprised as he asks, “Is that… bad? Too much?”

“Well, definitely much,” Eun laughs, “but very sweet, too. By all means, don’t change.”

“Ah. Ahhh, that answers one of my questions at least.”

Eun looks at him in curiosity, though entertained and maybe even a little baffled that she’s ever been the object of his attention in any way. So she voices, “Oh? Which one’s that?”

“Just confirms that I have your blessings.”

Eun catches his admission as a popular line from a million movies before, immediately puffing out a laugh. She didn’t anticipate this, out of all things; blinking, somewhat flattered even.

“My blessings?” she repeats. Her smile, combined with the appearing crease between her eyebrows, dips her expression in something that reveals, “Are you joking?”

Which is presumably why Jungkook’s thought shrinks the very next moment, pupils shaking just a little as he mutters, “Well… yeah?”

“Okay. And what if I didn’t give them to you?”

She raises her chin as if in arrogance, but the immediate giggle reveals the playful joke. She shakes her head again, patting his bicep, smitten when his speechless self voices, “Uhm…”

“I’m just messing with you,” she clarifies, watching one corner of his lips rise. “But also, why is it needed, you know? Would you leave her if I didn’t bless you two? Or stop loving her?”

Jungkook’s surprised about the L-drop; of all people, Eun must have known from the very beginning that he loved you. There’s no bewilderment in her voice; she emits the word casually.

He blinks, albeit discarding all preceding hesitation immediately as he admits, “No.”

“Exactly,” Eun agrees, wiggling a finger with a wise, subtle nod on the side, “you don’t need my blessings. If you’re sure about her, you don’t need anyone’s. I’ll trust the process.”

That’s it.

No ominous warnings, no playful best-friend-threats. She trusts in his certainty as much as he does; and where would the two of you be, what would all of this be if he didn’t? No. Not a trace of doubt.

Not if every smile matching yours expresses a silent I adore you. Or if every exhale against your shoulder reveals a promising I want you.

Not if everything he’s still about to do breathes a whisper of a soft I’ve been thinking of you all this time.

“But,” Eun continues; Jungkook’s ears perk up, “if you need to know. I do adore you two together. I know I tease you and stuff, but I’ve never seen a cuter couple.”

“Ah. Even cuter than you and Tae?”

“Much. We’re not the sappy kind. Or well, he is, but… you’re straight up sugar. Makes me sick.”

Jungkook laughs, spying over his shoulder, seeing a glimpse of you as you look out of the window in wonder. “Well, she makes up most of that sweetness.”

“Maybe. God,” Eun exclaims as if agitated, and when he looks at her again, her teeth are gritted, eyes squinting hard before she opens them again. Adding, “Sometimes I wanna grab her face and squish her.”

“The most precious, right?”

“Isn’t she?”

Somebody to kill for. Somebody with a face that doesn’t fit tears. The world did you wrong, but you exist to be happy. You’re deserving of it; you could be the most enthusiastic soul if the universe allowed you.

No, fuck it. Fuck the universe.

He’s here, right? He can do it, too. Guard you from harm; keep your smile plastered there.

And as if reading his mind, Eun continues, “I’ve always hated seeing her sad. She deserves the world, and shit always hit the fan when she was so close to finding the joy I always wanted her to have. Does this sound dumb?”

No, it doesn’t. In fact, Eun’s very truth pricks his heart like a fine needle. Because in a sense, he was also once a reason for stripping you off that happiness; but he’s made up for it. He so deeply hopes he made up for it.

“It sounds just right,” he says.

“I don’t know if you already know, but you won’t meet anyone purer. Not saying this as her best friend… it’s true.” She shrugs a shoulder, as if to dismiss the corny statements; she truly isn’t a mawkish one. “So it’s a big deal to say I want you close to her.”

Her eyes shift away from him and straight to you; there’s a gap between all the people, allowing a glance at you. And when Jungkook follows Eun’s gaze, you seem to feel it somehow, his eyes like Cupid’s arrows in your back until you meet their attention.

Your lips promptly form the most saccharine smile, an unsure hand lifting; somebody next to you immerses themselves in the brief interaction, looking to and fro between Jungkook and you.

And Jungkook waves back, watching your chest rise and fall in satisfaction rooted in nothing but the untroubled moment. Right there, you hold not one but two hearts hidden. His bleeding organ thumps, but it’s as if he hears it from where you stand.

Slowly, stare dropping to his feet, he nods, love clumping up his throat, a barrier for the words wanting to escape. Instead, he basks in the things Eun said, repeating them over and over in his head until he merely susurrates—

“Thank you, Eun.”

“Here you are.”

Jungkook is soft-spoken, his voice mellow; a textbook definition of a lullaby. Which is possibly why you’re so surprised when it breaks the fall air so loudly, echoing through the empty space.

You flinch before you reflexively turn, watching his body tower on the other side. The lights of the swimming pool illuminate his face, and even from here, you recognise the bright, gorgeous, twinkling eyes immediately. They’re not hidden behind his bangs this time; his damp hair is pushed back.

Maybe you could focus on that unusual sight of his forehead if there wasn’t the entire rest of him. Hands in the pockets of the open bathrobe he’s sporting, mere boxers hiding his most important parts, but the rest of him naked. Tits out, abs sharp.

You flash him a smile from where you’re floating, pushing yourself off the edge and swimming towards him. You see his reflection in the water, blurry, moving, somewhat funny. As you near him, he drops to his knees, crouching for a second before dipping his legs into the pool. Sitting down, remaining there, waiting for you.

Getting ahold of his calf, you pull yourself in for the last few feet. He reaches out without hesitation as your shoulders collide with his legs underwater; gentle fingers tuck your soaked hair behind your ears.

“I was looking for you,” he says.

“Oh, I just got here a couple minutes ago. Making the best out of the remaining time.”

“Yeah. I just showered for a few minutes, too.” He pauses. Looks around the vacant pool save from the two of you, humming before he asks, “Hey, do you need a moment to yourself?”

Your eyes widen as you look up, his expression suddenly cautious, as if he’s intruding your personal space. Curiously, you merely voice, “What?”

“Just. I know there’s been a lot of interaction these days, so I get it if you need a break.” His finger moves to his temple, drawing circles in the air. “My battery almost ran out, too.”

Oh. Oh…

If there was a way to hide your flattered smile, you still wouldn’t. God, if he knew how rare of a person he is. How uniquely humane. If he knew that not everybody’s ready to offer space despite knowing that somebody requires it at times.

You know enough people who put the blame on themselves; deem themselves victims. If you can’t be there for them, it’s something they have done wrong. Not the fact that you need peace, a moment to yourself.

Jungkook knows. Jungkook understands.

Has seen you run out of energy and crave a quiet evening. But you immediately shake your head, touched, “Oh, no. I actually knew you’d find me here. Hoped for it.”

“Is that right?” he says, relieved, grazing your cheek as you put your chin onto his leg. Muscly, thick thighs, yet like a pillow.

You nod. Look up to him properly, a little distracted, very mesmerised. It’s outrageously insane, how he’s perched there like he’s allowed to. As if it doesn’t clearly state in your book that it’s illegal to look this way, that it should be retaliated somehow.

“It’s been a while since we were alone,” you tell him, “feels like we didn’t have many moments to ourselves.”

“Then, this is convenient, isn’t it? An empty pool in the evening. Very cliché.”

You laugh a little, tilting your head and ignoring the goosebumps that arise when he touches the sweet spot behind your ear. Hands exploring. You respond, “Others are probably too tired to be here. Or too cold. We’re the only crazy ones here.”

“It’s warm enough, though,” he argues, sniffling, as if to contradict his point — there’s something funny about it. “I bet it’s wet and grey back home.” A click of his tongue, watching you nod in agreement; after a beat of silence, he wonders, “Are you looking forward to tomorrow?”

Exhilaration inundates your chest without a warning, as is common with this very conversation topic. You can barely fathom that you talked about this for weeks straight, and now you have only a few hours left until the awaited day finally breaks in.

Jungkook must be seeing the change in your pupils, because he smiles when you do, nodding with an open mouth as you cheer jubilantly, “A lot! It’ll be a long day, we’ll be exhausted, but… got a feeling it’ll be worth it all.”

“Yeah, but like. I think we can rest a lot after that, though,” he explains, flashing a wink to your astonishment. “My childhood bedroom is cosy.”

“I’d hope so. We won’t be leaving it.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes in jest before he agrees, “Of course not. Duh. Except for the wedding.”

“Except for the wedding… sure,” you repeat, as if reluctantly.

As you put both your arms on top of his thighs, Jungkook uses the moment to let his stare dawdle; right there where yours lingered two minutes ago. His head moves slowly, taking in the wide, endless view behind you.

The sky above and the stars attached to it. The tiny mountains far away and the forests next to them. The world looks as wide as it truly is, stunningly bedazzling; infinite from where he sits here with your touch so close.

There’s a sense of disbelief in the fact that, despite the crazy vastness of the world, it’s you who found your way to him, inches away. If luck exists, this must be it, right?

But he doesn’t say any of it — don’t you already know? What if he lovebombs too much, frightens you away. So instead, his fingers shift to your face, much cooler to the touch than before, and he queries, “Aren’t you cold?”

You shake your head, however, stating, “Not yet. Or… maybe a little. You can help me warm up?”

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow in disbelief; something about the way he looks down at you with such power lets something in you loose that floods your entire body. You wouldn’t mind if he…

“Isn’t this another cliché?” he asks.

“How so?”

“You’ll make me jump in, huh? Or no, wait. You’re a brat,” he establishes as if remembering just now, rethinking his choice of words. “No… you’ll pull me in.”

“What? I won’t.”

“How do I know that, though?”

“I mean, technically, you don’t, and yes, I realise that doesn’t help,” you blabber, tone shifting when he shakes his head with a laugh, “but, you did just shower. I wouldn’t want you to waste more time showering afterwards.”

He looks sceptical to no end; squinting his eyes, biting his lower lip, furrowing his eyebrows — the whole package. Leaning in, he lets you know, “I don’t trust you this once, but…”

And that’s where his sentence ends. The words unspoken are replaced by another movement closing the gap between the two of you. He grabs your chin, moving your head up, bending his back enough to draw closer to your lips.

The phantom touch and his warm breath cause a strange, crackling sound somewhere in your brain — a bulb going out, your mind breaking. Shutting down. But your body lights up as he cradles your face, every single inch of your skin craving his all.

The knowledge about his affection and that he yearns for you like no other man on Earth blurs your reality, as if you don’t belong into a utopian world like this. As if you’re from another corner of the multiverse, incredibly lucky by accident.

Weird, weird how all of these thoughts trigger disbelief and thorough rapture in you, but how empty-headed you are at the same. Almost enough to fully lose yourself until—

The man leans back, intentionally teasing you, just a little but enough for you to fall out of your immersion. You chase his lips for a second, long enough to make him laugh. But as you find your composure, looking at the shit-eating grin, you land a decision.

“Unfair,” you say, pouting, predicting for him to coo, which occurs just a moment later.

You remain at your spot, not a lot of options either way as he still holds your face. Then wait. See him get a hold of himself before he mutters, “My pretty angel. Pouty little sweetheart of mine, hm?” twice, then thrice and then closes in again.

Thumbs skim the apples of your cheek, nose rubbing against yours, his own scrunched. He looks so happy with himself, but so charmed by you, too, squishing your face as if handling cuteness-aggression.

Calls you plenty of pet names as he kisses your nose, your cheek, your earlobe and then moves in for an actual kiss.

Only this time, no matter how much you yearn for his lips, rosy and wet and sweet and tender — you can’t let him beat you. So you prepare for the retaliation you considered before, and just as new goosebumps arise on your arms, wanting the kiss, you suppress the desire and—

“Fu—”

The curse falls out of him suddenly, just a second after he closes his eyes and you use the moment of weakness to put your hands at the back of his neck. Pulling him in without a warning, watching him lose balance and splash into the pool.

He struggles a little underwater before he breaks the surface; hands reach for you with an intent to revenge, but you dodge him. He gasps, shaking his head, going through the trouble of wiping the water off his eyes before opening them.

You swim away a little, carefully, just to be sure; watching him cough a bit before he laughs. He can’t help but scoff, more curses falling out of him, but never towards you. Only a reprimanding, “Angel, you’re— you brat." Another cough. "You’re too much.”

And as his eyes finally land on you, he immediately charges for you, jaw clenched, teeth gritted, but pure amusement gracing his features. You try to get away, but he’s faster. Moves in the water as he strips himself off the bathrobe.

The image makes you choke.

How ethereal yet sinful of a moment. Tempting as he pulls it off his strong shoulders, revealing the bulging bicep, throwing the bathrobe to the side with an absolute indescribable, fiery aura.

Teeth pull at his lower lip before they instantly release it. Then the tongue, running over glistening lips, eyes hooded, the bathrobe sitting where he did without him even regarding it. Like a villain who sets a house on fire and then walks away without looking, badass to the core.

Fuck, he’s broad. And fuck, he’s coming right for you.

You try to flee, hysterically laughing, probably too loud; but he’s a fast swimmer, arms soon around your waist, wrapping around you, tugging you in. He whispers into your ear, “Talking about clichés, baby, huh?”

As he holds you there, you swallow some water, spitting it out right away before you answer, “Well… there’s a reason why they’re clichés.”

“Not wanting to waste my time showering, my ass.”

“You’re saying it sounds like a bad idea?” you whisper, breathless as he kisses your shoulder, his soft voice muttering a little, “What?” before you clarify, “Showering with me?”

“Nah. Stop planting this thought in my head,” he says, lips continuing at your neck, kissing it gently first before he morphs the touch into a wet, open-mouthed kiss.

You try to stay afloat, but god, you’ll drown if he keeps that up. But then he adds, much to your already existing misery, “Stop or I swear, we won’t even make it to the damn shower. Understood?”

“Beast—”

“You say as if you don’t know me already. Don’t you know?” he asks, pausing, kiss moving to your jaw. “That I get like this with you?”

“I… I do, so well. Not even this is surprising to me.”

You press yourself into him harder, feeling the bulge hardening below, right against your thigh. Your hand drops from his shoulder to his slim waist, further down until it gives his hard-on the slightest of touches. He groans; gives you a head tilt as a warning.

Then kisses your cheek. The corner of your lips; tickles you, pinches your waist. You engulf him a bit more, trying not to pull the two of you underwater, swimming and floating. It’s hard, though, and harder even when he tickles you again.

He must understand, because as you push him away, swimming away a couple feet, he doesn’t tow you back in. Lets you go as your vision blurs, the movements of your arms hectic enough to push more water into your eyes.

You dip below the surface for a second, regaining control, and when you’re up again, you hear his voice farther away, urging, “Come on.”

And once you see him again clearly, he’s already wading to the edge where you stood when he scared you. Right where the view to the town is the best, the pool and roof separated from the depths by a high glass wall.

You follow slowly, stroking for a moment — but it doesn’t take you long to pause again halfway through. Gliding, you watch his arms coming up and settling on the edge, muscular and mountainous like the range far away. Hair wet, water drops drip onto his already doused back.

And in front of him, a lake you couldn’t see from the other side of the pool.

Then, the mountains, like the one you went on. A village and fields and up above, a painting of stars. Millions and millions of them. Sparkling, alive, dead, moving, closer, farther… burning and bright. Reflecting in the lake, along with the moon.

His head moves to the side, probably looking for you; but you don’t move yet, just admiring the side profile for a little longer. Gorgeous, lips formed as if drawn, a clean-cut, razor sharp jaw. Golden back, broad.

As he peeks over his shoulder again, doe eyes searching for you, you finally swim towards him the moment he pleads, “Come, baby.”

And you do. Put your hands on his shoulders again, kissing his back, his neck, his shoulder blade before you settle right next to him. Imitating his position.

He says, “One could almost forget that we’re leaving in two hours. Ahh, I want to stay here.”

Right. Your group decided to check out in the late evening tonight — an exception at this hostel — to make the most of the day on the mountain and at dinner. But in a while, you’ll set out for your new destination. The beach calls for you.

You’ll check in late at night over there, and then remain at the new hotel — no hostel this time — until the day after tomorrow.

“Yeah. Just a bit more,” you say, sighing before you let him know, “By the way… I do feel a lot warmer now.”

“Good,” he says, although you don’t miss the beguiled smile he flashes as he looks away, “anything for you to not get sick.” He nudges your elbow with his. “Not before the big day.”

No, not the big day. If anything, you’re even more overjoyed over it than tomorrow. And nervous — oh, so nervous. You don’t think you’ll feel any different until the day rolls around.

What will happen at the wedding? What’s the atmosphere like in a smaller gathering? What does the magic of such a place elicit? It must be so different from any event in the city.

Could it make you fall in love with him with further desperate urgency? Seeing him standing there, admiring you in your dress, thoughts whirling as the couple of the night promises each other eternity. Does the romantic serenity of a wedding make hearts of those in love burst more?

No. You don’t think it’ll make you fall for him harder — because you don’t need a wedding for that.

A moment like this suffices.

Yet. As you stare ahead, fixing your eyes on the clouds, you remember something. Curious as you think back to the first day and ask, “Hey. What did Jimin mean when he said I should be excited for the wedding? What does he know?”

Jungkook sighs, shaking his head at your friend’s slip-up. He smirks, and then says, “Well, you’ll see at the wedding, right?”

“…Jungkook,” you challenge, and he looks at you so innocently, hiding whatever secret he shares with Jimin. But you don’t fall for it, ideas already brewing in your mind; one blurted as you ask, “Did you get me something?”

But he’s unfazed — a good actor. “Wait up,” he says, “if you’ve got any theories, keep them to yourself, though! You’re too smart for me.”

“C’mon, as if.” You wait. Wait a bit more, pupils shaking, just slightly distracted when he frees your cheek off your hair again, giving you a chaste peck. “Wait. Oh.”

He chuckles, a little lost in you as he copies, “Oh?”

“Jeon Jungkook… are you proposing?”

And that’s when he breaks into a laugh. A loud one, Jungkook-esque, sweet and genuine, with his eyes nearly closed, mouth open wide. So, so enchanting as he says, “I did not expect that. But sure, that’s what it is.”

“Well, that cancels it out.”

“Oh, baby…” He pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, moving your head to look at him, kisses you again, just for a fleeting second. “You’re so cute. So, so cute. I love your cute ass so much.”

Butterflies, butterflies, butterflies.

They never cease. You don’t think you’ll ever get over this word. You don’t think there’s a way to get used to Jeon Jungkook confessing his love — his love — for you.

Ugh, he drives you mad. Into absolute insanity.

Sucks you out of breath, your heart palpitations reasoned in him. Your body craves him; not cold anymore at all. Tingling and wanting.

Starved for him, you look into his dark eyes, intrigued by the wet bangs, and with all the patience you can muster, you finally whisper, “Let’s go and hurry to that damn hotel. Hm?”

DAY 3

You love packing your bags, but you hate reorganising them. Like, stuffing back dirty clothes because there’s nowhere else for them to go, changing your initial order. 

You won’t empty your suitcase for that one remaining day anymore; you’ll only be here for another night anyway.

But you want to separate the worn stuff from the clean one. Thankfully, your suitcase is spacious enough; after all, there’s no chance in hell you’re having your soon-to-be-messy swimsuit reside right next to your resplendent dress.

Yawning as you rummage through your things, you shoot a fleeting glance at the ticking clock at the wall. It’s only 8 o’clock in the morning. Breakfast has already started, but you and the others longed to sleep in, agreeing on a 9 AM meal.

But for some reason, the two of you already awoke about half an hour ago; nevermind that today’s schedule doesn’t begin before noon.

For some time, you merely lay on your sides of the bed, enjoying each other’s company, brief kisses here, modest touches there — until you decided to make yourselves useful. Still tired, yet unable to fall back into sleep, being productive was all you could do.

Albeit, you’re distracted. Your mind keeps drifting, your heart still pounding thinking about the shower last night, taken right as you checked in and found your room. Not as tired from the busy day and the two-hours-drive to the hotel anymore when he touched you.

You still feel the ghost touch of his palm around your neck; glistening lips exploring your cheek and your jaw.

And… there are bruises on your leg somewhere, reminiscent of when he dragged you into bed, keeping your thighs apart with a grip passionately aggressive. Loving yet brutal. Uttering admissions that still coat your flesh with goosebumps.

Shit, are you grateful for the proper room. All to yourselves at last.

You cover your naked thigh. The oversized shirt barely hides his effect on you, but he seems rather distracted anyway. Of course he is — whenever he spies the baby pink dress, like now, he becomes one hell of a goner.

He fishes it out by ruining some of your tidiness, the folded top and two shorts falling out as he pulls the dress from underneath them. You complain, “Hey!”

But he’s still examining the gown, shaking his head once again as he did the last few days whenever he caught a glimpse of it. You still remember his reaction when you first brought it home, presenting it to him but not yet putting it on.

You assured him you looked hot in it beyond hell, but that he’d have to wait to actually see you wrapped in it.

His eyes were still wide, alright. Mouth drooling. And you understand — when you first laid eyes on it, you knew it was made to be yours: soft, pastel pink hue. Dreamy and ethereal. Shit, you can’t wait to wear it.

Apparently, he can’t either.

Because he declares, “You’re gonna be so fucking pretty in this.”

“You told me.”

“And I’ll keep doing so. My god, I’ll need to keep an eye on you all night!”

You laugh. “Ah? Why?”

He shrugs a shoulder, explaining matter-of-factly, “Some of my friends there are still single. Gotta shield you from their shit. I mean, they loyally respect me, but then again… it’s you.”

“Oh, oh,” you voice, tutting, “and the girls? Are some of them single, too?”

“Well, I guess so, but—”

“Nothing but. I’ve seen you in a suit before, mister. What if some of them are girls from your high school? What if they had a crush on you? Fuck it, they all probably did,” you ramble, and he listens, lips twitching; he forces the laugh back. “No, you’re sticking by my side that night, Jeon.”

You raise a finger, wiggling it like a warning, blabbing the most ridiculous, “No running away with other chicks.”

“As if, you idiot,” he jests, “even if I got shitfaced as heck and you carried me home and I didn’t realise it was you? And you pretended to be somebody else — I’d still tell you that I need to go fetch my girlfriend.”

You cover your mouth as laughter fills the air; you’re sure your eyes are sparkling at the fantasy, and your voice changes, euphoric to an unknown extent as you say, “Oh my god. I so want to witness that one day. I’m gonna try to get there.”

“I believe you. What else will you be wearing? This? Wait,” he asks, picking out a silk and lace lingerie from the side; baby pink. But you snatch it out of his hands as he adds, “Is this part of your attire?”

“Well, now you ruined a perfect surprise.”

“What! I don’t think I did, though? Wait for my reaction. It won’t be any less than you expect.”

You smack your lips in faux disappointment, but in truth, you get it very well. Seeing him always feels new to you, too.

You brush your hand across the fluffy carpet as he eyes the dress once more, waiting until he’s folded it neatly again, putting it into your suitcase. Then, he leans against the bed, observing as you get back to work.

Your lips open, pouting a bit. You give the sweetest, most genuine reactions; how you form an Oh with your mouth when you like something you brought. Or how disgusted you look when you’re reminded of your two-days-old clothes again.

You mutter, “Gonna have to ask your mom if she’s okay with me using your washing machine.”

“She will be, for sure.”

“I’ll even hang them to dry myself.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm! Shit, Jungkook. I’m so excited!” you exclaim, fingers moving fast over your stuff, and he keeps watching. “I wanna tattle about you with your mom! And I can’t wait to meet Ria, either. She sounds so cool and—” You peer up at him, and when you catch him smiling, you wonder, “What?”

“Nothing, just…”

He shrugs another shoulder, already moving to close your suitcase. You watch with an innocent curiosity in your eyes, hands on your knees as he pushes it away. He reaches for your wrists to pull you closer until you’re between his legs, your own crossed, obliging wordlessly.

Then, he speaks again, “Can you kiss me? Really wanna kiss you.”

He always wants to kiss you. And staring at these rosy, pretty lips of his, arched so prettily, you don’t think you fare any better.

So you’re walking on air when his hands settle on your waist to tickle you, forcing you to relocate them down to your hips. You ask, “Do you ever get enough?”

“Hmm… Do I look like I do?"

“I mean. Do you really just want to kiss me, baby?” you inquire, but he’s already onto pecking your lips, pulling at them. You place your arms around his neck. “Your eyes look just like they did yesterday.”

“Ah, really?” A featherlight kiss on your neck. “So I won’t have my wish granted?”

“You… You’re stupid,” is all you say before you prove him wrong — diving in, locking your lips, moving them slowly against his, in unison.

You tilt your head immediately. Kiss him deeper, seeking his hair. His hands wander to your back, and you arch it when he hauls you closer. Your tongues come into motion at the very same time, a touch intense enough for him to breathe a sigh that you feel, that you hear.

And before you know it, you’re moving further; straddling him. He pushes your shirt up, only to the small of your back; the other hand moves down to your ass, nothing on you but your underwear. And considering it’s a string, not even that matters.

He has free reign to your rear, squeezing and slapping lightly. At which you lean back, breathless, giggling a little as you watch him move back in — trying to catch another kiss, eyes drooping and lips parted.

But when he realises you’re pausing, not granting him what he needs, he looks up into your eyes. You say, “Thought so. That’s,” you touch his hand over your ass, “what your eyes said. Even after you wrecked me just last night, huh?”

“Sorry,” he mutters with a grin — but his expression soon changes. Back once more against the bed, he promises, “I… if you don’t want to, we don’t have to though. I’m okay with just organising our stuff or chilling.”

Oh, the way he touches your heart…

You blink, affection in your pupils reflecting in his. You coo, and then call, “Oh, baby…”

“No, seriously. Whatever you’re comfortable with, my love.”

“I’m… I’m comfortable with you, you know? If I ever feel like not doing something or disagreeing with you… I’ll be honest with you.”

He silences for a moment. Keeps gaping at you. Then, “Do you feel like you can?”

But no matter how deep his insecurities are, your answer is immediate, “Always.” Swift pause. “Kook, I— I know you still fear I could distance myself from you. I see it, but… I won’t. As long as you’re willing to stay, I will, too.”

“I will. I promise. And I’ll never ever do anything to hurt you again. Not on purpose… okay?”

Hmm… you wish these moments were rare. It does happen ever so often that he seeks reassurance and vows; your companionship, regardless of what lies in your pasts. To know you’re here despite all the despites.

But if you need to, you’ll keep dispeling his fears all your life.

So you say, “I know. I know.” Brushing through his hair. “And I want this.”

“It won’t hurt? We just did last night—”

“If it does, we can stop. I always want you. Besides…” You circle over his lap, your hips a tease. You feel the bulge stir. “I can’t blueball you.”

Jungkook smirks in the way only he’s able to, clutching your butt again, and you catch your lower lip with your teeth. He states, “Brat, acting like it’d be the first time.”

“You’re just… so hard already. Can’t do this to you. Or me. Not today.”

“Babe… you being so sweet makes it worse. And this isn’t even its final state, you know?”

“Of course I know.”

Oh, of course you do. Whenever you think it can’t get crazier, he negates your beliefs. Well equipped as he is, your man, the thought suddenly makes you want to unwrap him again, like a gift crafted just for you.

He’s in a black tank top; tattoos reach up to his shoulder, muscles flexing as he holds you. You touch them, sneaking further to his wrist, and then take the plunge and lead his forefinger into your mouth. Then, you suck.

Upon which his eyes immediately shut. He draws a deep, shaky breath, barely exhaling much of it when you twirl your tongue around the tip of his finger. Absent-minded yet fully aware, he shakes his head, taking a moment to compute before he pulls his digit out again.

His cock twitches beneath you, much as a last warning.

And a second later, out of the blue, there’s a hand on the nape of your neck while the other shifts to your buttbone, pushing you to the ground with his body in tow. You fall flat on your back, his face right above you. Lips crash against yours again, strong hands pinning your arms down.

“You’re so brave,” he deduces, “like you forgot yesterday.”

“I could never. Maybe… maybe I’m just trying to repeat it.”

“Oh… smart, smart. If that’s your wish.”

Cocky, how he tilts his head and winks. How he pushes your thong aside without a warning, already damp, freeing your pussy before his touch collides with it. Fondling with it; making you release a pleased sigh. Gaze still set on you firmly, fingers running up and down. To the clit.

You’re already out of your good mind; but you attempt a fair approach; a mutual effort in which you try your best to push his shorts down. He’s not wearing anything underneath… you know because he threw them on last night after the chaos that ensued, wanting to rush to you. To sleep in peace.

And he’s well aware of it, because as it slides down to his knees, he dares a step further. Fists his cock and replaces his fingers when he drags the tip up and down your heat. You sigh again before it contorts into a moan, gripping him, pleading, “Kiss me again?”

“Not yet. I wanna see you wind.”

“Why…? You’re so mean—”

“Just now. Come on. Look at me.”

You do. You’re met with a hungry beast who’s yearning for you, simultaneously so soft — easing you into this, not dipping his fingers in just yet. Discovering how you feel; how soaked you get; how far he can already proceed.

He might be craving you, but he’s not stupid; he’s cautious. Gauging your reaction.

This man… this man…

“Want me to push it in?” Jungkook then questions, making your eyes rip open; you didn’t expect the inquiry this soon, but you’re not opposed to it at all.

You nod, eyebrows furrowed. Your voice is feeble when you agree, “Please.”

“Please, yeah?” he repeats, just the head prodding your entrance — but then, he chuckles. “Baby. Take care of yourself when I can’t. I can’t fucking think, you know? But even I know you’re not ready yet.”

“I…”

“Just a bit more, okay?” He slaps your pussy; you wince. “Wanna get up and undress?”

“No,” you instantly blurt, “want you like this. Right now. I don’t care about the shirt.”

“Right… so that’s how it is.”

He leaves the two of you just the way you are, except kicking off the bothersome shorts. Pushes your shirt up to your tits, too, stopping right underneath the mounds, still covering them. He leaves it there, dizzy about how your nipples perk against the white shirt, just above the Kakashi Hatake print.

Huh.

“Is this my shirt, by the way? You stole it, didn’t you?” he gathers.

You pretend, playing the innocent lamb, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I can’t believe you. Stealing my clothes… and my perfumes,” he recollects, his voice going up and down. He’s referring to the time you used his cologne just to keep his scent close; once. He was very amused by it. “What’s next? My heart?”

Only that you already exchanged both of yours. He knows, because he can’t really feel his own heart beat, but yours. After all, your chest houses his thumps, not his.

But he still clicks his tongue; kisses down your body, caressing your sides, and then shoves your panties aside. He spits on your pussy so indecently, in a manner so filthy that it affects your entire body.

The sharp tip of his tongue is the first to taste you. The first to intrude. Lightly and softly, he attempts a touch, anticipating a reaction that he barely needs to wait longer for than a nano-second. Because your body blooms immediately, your pussy constricting.

There’s never a single reason for him to react with surprise; if anybody in this world understands your body as well as you, it’s him. He knows you to the tiniest detail; so why the astonished, “Oh? Oh, oh…”

Then again, maybe that’s all that’s necessary to set the mood further; he doesn’t elaborate on it, nor does he ask any questions. Instead, he French kisses your cunt with the techniques he’s mastered to the core. With each time you spend with him like this, he gets better.

Because he knows when to draw back, when to return. When to kiss you again, when to pull at the nether lips. Or when to nibble just lightly, when to use his tongue. It’s obvious in the twitches of your legs, and how he needs to keep them in place each time — hence, the bruises.

Your head lifts when he angles your right leg on the side, enabling better access to where he wants to drown. And when he comes back, he seems starved; maybe he needs that promised breakfast soon to come. Or maybe not; maybe he’ll feast on you enough.

Because he’s thorough; does enough work on you to divulge, “Maybe I was wrong and you are ready after all.”

“…M-maybe.”

“Wish we’d brought the sex toys. Man, I want to…” He touches your clit, painting patterns, a steady and diligent artist’s hand; and you can’t help but imagine it’s the vibrator he often handles. “Wouldn’t that be good?”

“Don’t… do this to me.”

A smug chuckle. “Sorry, bae.”

Ever since he gave you the damn toys months ago, he’s teased you about them constantly. And ever since you started inhabiting the same walls as him, he’s prompted orgasm after orgasm. God, the last few weeks alone, he’d revel in your whines.

Overstimulating, keeping you awake on weekends, battering your cunt and your nub. Nerves on fire. Tears of pleasure and sobs of exhilaration.

“Jungkook…” you start. He hums, but your brain blanks; you think about whatever you were going to say until you remember and jabber, “We’d never get t-to breakfast then.”

“So? I’d still be having mine.”

Thought so.

“But…” you argue, no clue why at all. “They’d be waiting.”

“I think they’re just as bad as we are. C’mon.”

You laugh before you mewl; insane when he buries himself in your sex, tongue in a whirl, plump lips operating so agonisingly skilled. He heaves your legs onto his shoulders; everything feels wet and warm and dirty.

Nerves burning again; your entire neural system is alight like a torch, buzzing like electricity.

And you want to close your legs but you can’t.

The motion only covers his ears, much to his disdain as he says, “Stop… I can’t hear you like this,” before dragging his tongue down again. Pushing your body up, he grips your ass, pulling the cheeks apart before he licks over the string just for a moment. Then suggests, “What if we added something to our collection one day? Hmm?”

His thumb toys right over your clenching hole; you grasp for a breath, airheaded as you admit, “I… don’t know yet.”

“Fine. There’s time.”

There is, but you want it to pass faster. Want him over you, around you. And maybe he can read your thoughts after all, because a second later, he’s uprighting himself; once again slapping his dick against your drenched mess. Hiding it between your folds as he rubs it up and down.

Then moves it side to side rapidly, helping himself, pumping until he’s grown impossibly solid. On his knees, he shifts on the mattress until he’s kneeling right over your face, and you raise your head, mouth ready and open without a single command necessary.

He’s chuffed about your keenness; breathes out a laugh as he drags his cock between your lips and onto your tongue. You’re rigorous, his good girl, sucking right away.

Fuck, he savours the moment much like you are; watching the saliva drip down your cheek obscenely. It covers his dick, much of it enveloped by your mouth; the picture of you barely being able to take half of him in this position yet trying sends him into pure madness.

And when your tongue teases his slit and the head, he thinks he’s dying and being reborn.

“I’m dying and being reborn, babe. What the fuck,” he repeats, immediately regretting it when he realises he spoke it out loud; because you’re right beneath him, eyes foggy but the sudden giggle entirely contrary.

“Glad to hear.”

Jungkook uses the separation from your lips to back away already; any longer and he’ll have to help you rinse out your eyes. He leans down again, kissing you, hips aligning with yours as he prepares for the next step.

He’s gentle as he places your hands on his shoulders, and you already understand why. Already make yourself comfortable, getting into position as if for war, already realising that you need him to kiss you or your scream will shatter the building—

“Careful now,” he still warns, right before he reads your wish off your eyes and dives back in for more making out. You nod; you know. Your neighbours don’t need to—

Fuck.

Fuck, how big he feels when he digs in, not even fully inside yet.

Isn’t it just a bit more than the head so far? You bite your lip when you hear yourself whine, suppressing it, eyes watery. Your mouth transforms into a thin line, but Jungkook opens it with his finger; telling you, “I don’t care who hears.”

Okay. Okay. Then… you’ll stop holding back, right? You moan and call his name, hearing in his tender sounds and overjoyed, endlessly breathy and quiet laugh that he’s loving it. He asks, “Can I go farther in?”

“Thought you’d never ask…” Yet, it doesn’t happen. He refuses for some reason; which is why you work towards him instead, your hips upthrusting. Pushing at his ass, knowing how much he’s enjoying your helplessness. You say, “You are mean.”

“Mhm… especially to you, right?”

“Especially to me,” you laugh. “You say you love me and then edge me? Prove it, won’t you?”

“Ohhhh no.” He drags out the syllable, a sudden change in his tone, as if you’ve purposely teased him to a challenge. A you did not just say that kind of vibe. “You will not doubt that I love you. Fuck no.”

He buries his face in your clothed tits, kisses the spot between them; one hand envelops your left side before he lets go and gets serious. Kicks his shorts away and then— bottoms out. His balls clash against your ass, your eyes rolling back. His words ring in your ears.

And then, he’s already dragging himself out before plunging back in. Hard. Remains like this. Then out again; all the way in again, harder. Repeating it with a hand on your neck; but the moment, much to your irritation, doesn’t prolong at all.

Jungkook must have been quick to make a decision to torment you today when you first kissed him ten minutes ago. Because he fully draws back, leaving you empty, a hand on the back of your head as he mutters his thoughts to you, “Am craving this mouth… Get up.”

You, like his personal doll with a sudden lack of feminism in your body, get on your knees without hesitation. Your hands remain between your legs, as if waiting for him to put a leash on you; rubbing yourself against the soft carpet until he stops your antics and grips your cheeks.

He urges you to open up, pressing in, and when you do, he doesn’t wait to shove his cock in again. This time, he helps you out: goes back and forth, fucking your wet tongue, and then moving his length until the tip prods your inner cheek. He angles it like a fishing hook, bringing it out of your mouth and then back in again.

And you’re careful to suck diligently. You taste yourself, fighting for breaths. Look up at him, take him like your last meal on Earth; touch his balls as he relishes in your gaze. When your hand encases his dick, that’s when he stops moving, glancing up to the ceiling as if praying.

You slow down; wait as he catches his breath, and then ask, “What do you want me to do?”

You’re not always this forlorn. Sometimes you take matters into your own hands, no questions or permission necessary. You often knock him back onto the mattress, straddling him, riding him into the sunset.

But you want to submit today; that’s the mood you perceived. That’s what his eyes reveal and what your body itches for. Something he wants, too: to destroy you, to fuck you senseless.

And he notices the shift. “My god, would you look at that,” he drags, hardly believing that you’re looking at him like this. “Bed. Lean over it.”

You listen; of course you do. Your knees press into the carpet, upper body flat on the bed. Ass out, arms on the mattress. 

He touches you gently; first your back, then your hair, and then your arms. Finds the right position, and then rams himself into you. You barely expect it — the intrusion is sudden, happens in one fell swoop.

His legs cage in yours, and he soon pushes yours together, dying for further friction and for you to feel it more intensely. Your eyes flutter shut, and your previously lifted head falls, your cheek against the sheets.

You move with them as he thrusts into you, and you hold onto the fabric to remain in place. Perhaps he sees your efforts, because he’s soon determined to help — or to rile you up further, you can’t say. He catches your arm, just one, pinning it to your back.

A heavy hand falls onto the soft flesh of your ass once. And then, he raises your upper body until it’s glued to his chest. An arm wraps around your tits, two fingers pinching your nipple as he drills into you from behind.

As you yelp and heave breaths, you hear him say, “You wanna know, huh?”

“I…”

You’re not sure what he’s talking about, but you allow him to air his rage. He leans in, kisses your neck, wants to know, “What’s that like? You okay, baby?”

“I’m okay… I’m so okay—”

“And so pretty like this. You’re always… so pretty. I’m so fucking lucky.”

“I want to see you.”

“How did I…”

“Kook—”

“I know. I know you want to,” he says, but he takes another minute to fuck you hard, fast, revved up, and you don’t complain. Not even when two of his fingers slap your cunt, multiple times, rapidly until he repeats, “I know. Would you turn around for me? Sit here?”

How couldn’t you if he asks so nicely, right?

Your legs are shaky and trembling as you take a seat on the edge of the bed, much as he commanded. It’s high enough for him to fuck you standing here; but he doesn’t go in right away as you thought. Instead, he kneels in front of you, forehead to forehead, sentimental all of a sudden.

Did you wanting to actually see him change something? Did it remind him once again that you’re not just what you used to be? A way of passing time, a company to quench each other’s thirst?

Then again, you know Jungkook. He never forgets. Never forgets what you are to him.

Repeats each time just as he is now, “How did I end up with you?” Every time. Tells you every time that he cannot fathom his luck, that you’re more than he’ll ever deserve. He adds, “You want me to prove it to you?”

Oh…

That’s what he—

This time, the kiss is short-lived, albeit urgent. His hand cradles your face when he moves up and slides back home. He fucks you softer first, not as beastly as before. But you guess the distance is as irksome to him as to you, because he soon bends down.

Puts his hands on your ass and shifts your body on the mattress until you’re on your back, laying in front of him. Just the same position as before on the ground, but cosier; it’s easier to hover above you now, scanning your face like you’re the only star in the vast, expanding universe.

The only source of light in this darkened room.

“Hey,” he calls, even though you’re already looking at him.

He grazes your temple, tender as a flower petal. His eyes are a melting, dark brown, almost black; you think you see yourself in the reflection, even though it’s impossible in a setting like this — maybe that’s what he means when he says you reside in him.

Your existence in his chest, your eyes in his.

“I love you,” he then proclaims, “and I’ll show you all the fucking time if you need me to.”

“I… I want you to…”

“Good. Good, baby. You know I’ll do anything, right? Not just this and not just now. I’ll do anything for you.”

You half-smile as he says it, as much as possible between your moans; you don’t know what else to do, because nothing else suffices. Not an I would, too and not an I know.

So you say nothing; only raise your eyebrows and widen your eyes, showcasing every shred of affection you harbour. You keep looking at him until the thrusts force your eyes shut again. And this time, you don’t need long to fall into a series of gasps and outright craze.

You understand you’re close when he pleads, “Can you touch yourself? Please?”

And it helps — considering that you’re already riled up like not once in the past days, the next minutes pass fast, and the end is immediate. The familiar stars soon block your vision, your body quivering; you barely realise what happens and when it happens.

Nothing, but bliss bliss bliss…

Until you very clearly feel the liquid underneath your ass, the sheets soaked, all of it wet. You hear Jungkook laugh, absolutely satisfied. Your eyes rip open and you ask, “What happened?”

But the question is redundant — because as your mind clears, you gather what it could be.

You ruined the sheets. You’ll have to come up with a good ass excuse and ask the receptionist for a new blanket for your room. Fuck. A hell of a guest you are.

“You squirted all over my dick,” Jungkook still clarifies.

“I’m sorry…”

“What? No. It looks… it feels so…”

He doesn’t need to finish his sentence; it seems that the thought alone hardens his cock and balls impossibly. Enough for him to follow your example, letting go. He shakes his head, silences, and then moves in to kiss you hard; to fuck you harder.

He shoves you into the mattress repeatedly, navigating in and out of you so easily that you think he might slip out. But he doesn’t; instead, he spills. Spills hotly, abundantly. You know the bed is soiled forever.

Somehow, you’re even sorry for anyone who might book this room next; but somehow, as guilty as you might feel about it, you feel better for yourself. Then again — it’s fine, right? You’re probably not the first to make a mess of a room like this.

Making out with you one last time, Jungkook remains like thi, not wanting to move as his dick still pulsates and twitches, softening just slowly. Doesn’t want the liquid to leak if he moves out. Maybe thinking the same about the room as you.

His next question, however, is an entirely different one, “Do you believe me now?”

You titter. Even now, even after witnessing each of your reactions, your boyfriend won’t let the thought go. Set on what he feels for you, he’ll probably prove it to you an entire lifetime long.

You promise, “I always will. From anyone in this world, I’ll believe it the most from you.”

“My baby,” he coos. Waits. Then sighs before he says, “Okay, enough of that distraction. We have breakfast to catch. I bet you, five more minutes and they’ll knock.”

“Oh… uh-oh. Quick shower and then hurry?”

“…Great idea.”

Only, the shower isn’t as quick as you anticipated — the two of you are silly, reforming your shampoo hair, giggling until the knocks occur and you bolt to the breakfast hall. The others are already eating; by the looks of it, they’ve just started, though.

Yoongi is the first to speak after you’ve exchanged your polite Good mornings. In fact, he scolds rather gently, “You guys are late. We need to be at the beach by noon, don’t forget.”

“Yeah, we just…” You shrug. “We were organising our suitcases.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook nonchalantly confirms. “Forgot the time.”

Your excuses are so casual, so careful, your eyes busy as they watch your hands smear butter and jam on your toast. Only, you’re not as casual. Your friends fall silent. Their stares alternate between Jungkook and you as the two of you pass a knife or comment on the food.

No word until you hear Jimin gasp and look up at him. His expression seems amused, and you know he’s about to say something bold before he actually does—

“Oh, you fucked… You had the time to?!”

THE CHAPTER ISN'T OVER YET!! PLS READ 👇🏼

1k block limit, beloved. you can read the remaining 10k of the chapter in this reblog!! the reblog begins with a new scene <3

[ohimsummer]

QUIET IN THE LIBRARY !

— minors dni, bully! stsg x reader, dubcon, exhibitionism, óral [ m. receiving ], cóckwarming, facefúcking, pet names (princess, sweetheart, pet)

geto’s cock rests warm and heavy on your tongue, sprinkling the salty taste of precum onto your tastebuds. he shifts again in his seat, tilting his hips to shove his length a little further down your throat again, knowing it’s going to make you choke—and it does. the tip pushes further towards the back of your throat, nearly forcing a gag to spring free, but you just manage to swallow it down. his other hand rubs a gentle thumb over your cheek—a wordless ‘good pet’ for remaining so quiet.

though you’re not exactly sucking him off, geto is perfectly content sitting with you like this, in the heated embrace of your mouth. he finds it a little comfy, to be honest. the library is chilly, and he prefers the warmth inside you over anything his clothes could provide. not to mention, he’s just getting your mouth ready, so there is an actual purpose to you being down there.

that reason would be entirely unknown to you, however. in your mind, this is just the average day of suguru geto being an asshole, cornering you and stuffing you beneath the most secluded desk and basically forcing you into things you didn’t plan on doing. if you were somewhere else, in any other setting, you would have told him to get fucked and leave you alone because he has no right to be making demands like this. but you’re in public, and a library, of all places. there’s too many people around, and it’s too quiet. someone like geto has surefire ways to have you raising your voice in less than a minute, and you do not need the entire building to know he’s trying to have you cockwarm him under the table. it’s easier to just deal with it; comply and hope he doesn’t plan on using you for too long.

so, yes, you are doing this “willingly”, in the loosest of terms. and it pisses you off that while you’re down here on bruised knees and getting fucking carpet burn, geto is leaned back as casually as he can, still reading through the pages of a book as your jaw grows sore. he’s been still besides the few purposeful thrusts of his hips to get you to choke—asshole.

something catches his attention, and suddenly geto is slipping himself from your lips, tucking his length into his pants. you’re confused, but before you can maneuver yourself out of the cramped underside of the desk, there is someone else sliding into the chair—someone worse.

“heya, princess!”, gojo whispers a little too loudly, with beads of sweat rolling down his face. “comfy down there?”

both your mouth and brows droop down into a scowl, the pair of men plainly amused at your cute, little expression.

“open up, sweetheart,” gojo commands. he’s quick to undo his belt and pants, tugging his cock free from its confines. it’s stiff and throbbing already, leaking absurd amounts of pre down the length to drip onto his hand, where gojo gives himself slow, teasing pumps.

he doesn’t give you time to prepare before he’s shoving his tip past your lips, rubbing himself over the wet insides of your mouth.

“you ran through campus with a boner?”, geto snickers over his head, watchful eyes glancing between gojo’s manhandling of you and the vacant library to keep a lookout.

his snowy-haired other half is loud, making things way more obvious than geto did. not that he isn’t aware, no, gojo simply doesn’t give a fuck. he’s good at a lot of things, but practicing restraint is not one of them, and he damn sure isn’t about to start now. especially not with you.

gojo darts a pink tongue out to wet his lips, messily clearing away locks of your hair to get a nice view of your pretty face as he thrusts sloppily into your mouth. “i c—couldn’t, fu—ck, help it. did you expect me to— to take my time after you sent me that?”

his best friend only gives a low, delighted chuckle in reply. you catch geto’s gaze as he gives you a long stare, and then palms over the bulge in his pants.

“fuck, suguru got you all nice and loose for me.”, gojo pants, licking away a dewdrop of drool at the corner of his lips. he lets out a low groan, and you see geto’s head snap up to give someone a very menacing glare. “look at him makin’ this nice and easy for us. thank him after i’m through, yeah?”

you don’t respond, can’t respond when gojo’s tip incessantly prods at the back of your throat. gags and chokes are ripped from your throat, muffled and low but surely noticeable by anyone nearby. you expect to be caught and kicked out any minute now, forced to do the walk of shame with these two dumbasses.

gojo slams you down on his cock, and he holds you there. your chest stutters, body heaves as you struggle for any breath of air through the fabric of his shirt pressed against your nose, or the white hairs at his base tickling your face.

just as quickly, he’s pulling you away, and you barely breathe in a single gasp before gojo is shooting ropes of cum to paint your face. you squeeze an eye shut as he almost spurts into your eye, him giggling childishly as he thumbs it away and pokes the same finger into your mouth for you to suck clean.

gojo tosses his head back to catch his own breath. he shoves his cock back into his boxers, straightening out his clothes before rubbing his hands through your ruffled hair.

“ ‘kay, let’s go.”, he says proudly, grabbing you by the upper arm to pull you to your feet. “ up, now, we’re going to your dorm.”

you’re puzzled. apparently, they’re not done with you. “…why?”

“you still gotta thank suguru properly. duh.”

📚: @anthoosies @teddybeartoji @deepenthevoid @bubblez-blop @luvvmae @risuola @bunnymacaron @sbgg @paradiseoflosers @rosso-seta @hehehehesthings @starlightanyaaa @higurumapet @astral-hydromancy @lcvelina @lynettess @savethegoddamnturtles @apatauaia @sataraxia @starsharkz @h-4-bib @idkluvv @b-b-b-my-b-f-f @sugu-love @xinfvl @mikeysflag @krraayy @ichikanu @marichat0n @gyaruismind @sugojosgf @xocherishxo @sukunastarr-69 @glmpsfs @anxie-tiddies @euphoriagrae @astrasworldsblog @lovesickliyue @mrs-nicoleee @mxsocool

[moechies]

toji’s puppy 🐾

toji’s puppy who has a bad habit of biting :(

and he knows that as your owner, it’s his responsibility to train his sweet puppy to be good, but he can’t resist when she acts like she’s done nothing bad, big weary eyes looking up at him portraying such innocence.

you’ve decided that begging for forgiveness was the way to go with him, and that’s what you find yourself doing each and every time.

so you settle down, the warmth of your mouth wrapping itself around his heavy cockhead; sloppily sucking and blowing bubbles onto his fiery tip, mewling out inaudible apologies.

and he falls for it every time.

｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

“m.. showwie..”

“f-fuckin’ minx.. shit.”

you stare up at him from below with glossy eyes, small hands pawing at the remaining length you had been unable to fit into the small of your mouth. the corners of your mouth burn from the stretch, but all is ignored to attune to your owner .

he looks as if he’d been punched in the gut, short beads of sweat that form on his forehead. one hand grips onto the flesh of the couch, other tangled in loose strands of your hair.

your mouth is sloppy, drooling spit that dirties and leaks all over his cockhead and onto your own hand. he scowls at the mess, but does nothing to prevent it; why would he? you occasionally pull yourself off of his length, pressing wet kisses and small kitten licks to his slit, watching it pulse with need.

“d-do you forgive me ?”

he scoffs, your audacity, he thinks. of course he does. how could he not, with your sweet demeanor and perfect pup-like eyes; anyone would forgive such a behaved puppy. but toji had no plans to let you know that.

“make me cum pup, ‘nd we’ll see.”

[foolsunz]

𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥…

— nct dream as different kink based scenarios.

content warnings: smut, unprotected sex + more. this is pure self indulgent filth. word count: 2,6K.

౨₊ৎ Mark

fingering, BEGGING (</3) and edging.

you let a whimper and a soft ‘please’ escape you, wanting to come so bad already, but unfortunately for you, your boyfriend, mark, has other plans.

leaning down, he places a soft peck on your stomach before placing several open mouthed, hungry kisses on your inner thighs, so close to where you want him.

“tsk, i thought i taught you better than that, princess,” mark quips, the condescending tone sending waves of heat up your spine.

he gathers the cum leaking from your cunt and pushes it back inside, causing a loud moan to escape your parted lips.

mark watches as your hips buck and squirm from every breath on his lips on your glistening cunt. getting lost in your eyes, he finally seals his lips over your clit again and begins sucking, softly.

“y/n, you have to use your words…”

you feel your lower lip trembling, and your eyes already having tears welling in them. “please, baby—” you beg shamelessly, breathless moans escaping you and filling mark’s ears, making his cock twitch.

he flicks his tongue from side to side so your only reply will be another moan, another plead.

“p-please.”

“please what?” he smiles devilishly, draping your legs over his shoulders as he inserts a second finger in your dripping hole. he circles his tongue around your throbbing, swollen clit, working his two fingers into your tight hole. “words, sweetheart. tell me what you want.”

your pleading and screams get louder as mark’s fingers move faster, his thumb working your clit in circles. He pushes another finger in, finding your sweet spot as your thighs begin to shake. “please…make me come— please, markie.”

you let your head flop back on the bed; just panting and moaning as he presses three fingers inside you.

“mhm, you look so pretty like this,” he smiles, gazing up at you, “sucking all three of my fingers in. fuck, i bet you want my cock. bet you want me to fuck your throat raw until you can’t speak for a day, hm?”

“yes! fuck, mark, please—‘m gonna cum,” you moan.

each thrust of his fingers causes you to lose track of time and space and you can’t help but feel the tears pooling in your eyes.

mark waits until you’re on the cusp of your orgasm to stop his ministrations, and take his fingers out in one swift movement.

“no no no no, why— fuck, why did you stop?” you cry, your body arching off the bed as much as you can to try and get any touch from him.

you whimper when he gently pushes you back down.

tears stream down your cheeks, a pathetic pout etched on your face, and mark can’t help but smile as he kisses the expression off.

“please,” you’re saying, over and over again in a small, desperate tone.

“please, baby— please, please, please,” you beg a few more times, but in that defeated, small voice that means you know for a fact you won’t get what you want.

knowing if you beg enough, then maybe, just maybe, he’ll give you what you want.

but you better pray for it.

౨₊ৎ Renjun

spitting, praise kink, body worship and pet names !!!!

“shit, princess,” renjun starts, sucking harshly on your clit with his skilled tongue, “look at the mess you made.”

you groan, wanting to retort, but you’re lost for words. renjun doesn’t say anything, he merely gazes up at you, a mixture of your arousal and his spit glistening on his chin and dripping down his defined jaw.

“you’re fucking dripping,” he smirks mischievously at you, “i can’t wait to watch you fall apart, pretty.”

you babble incoherently, turning into a crying mess as he sucks on your clit like a lollipop, until you begin to shake, quivering uncontrollably as you mewl his name like a mantra.

“shh, shh. you’re doing so good, baby girl, you look so pretty. just keep going like this, okay angel?” he whispers breathily. “can you do that for me?”

crying out at the praise, you can’t help but nod hesitantly, causing him to smile as he begins tonguing your aching hole while his two fingers work on your clit, rubbing vigorously.

finally you hear him continue to praise you, whispering sweet nothings against your clit as he finger fucks you; and your senses can’t help but get overwhelmed.

there’s too much going on, and all you can - and will focus on, is renjun, renjun, renjun.

“fuck, junnie—” you whine pathetically, clenching around his long fingers and making him groan against your cunt.

just before you can come, renjun kisses up your body, making you whimper as you quiver around his hot breath against your lips.

“say ahh, baby girl,” he smiles, gripping your cheeks and slapping them, demanding you to: “open your mouth.”

you let a gasp escape you as you part your lips, letting him spit in your mouth before firmly grabbing your jaw and following up with a question of, “who do you belong to, huh?”

“you!”

“mhm ‘s that right?” he smirks, mocking you as he smears the spit all over your lips and face. “yeah? that’s a good fucking slut.”

his fingers thrust faster inside your hole and his thumb continues to rub your clit, determined to make you come and make you see stars.

you cry out in pleasure, and when you orgasm for the fourth time, renjun comes, untouched, his cock pulsing against your thigh as he writhes in pleasure; the feeling of you cumming enough to make him come undone, his cum staining his boxers.

౨₊ৎ Jeno

face fucking, degradation & corruption/innocence kink. 😵‍💫

“more jen,” you beg pathetically as you look up at jeno with the prettiest doe eyes.

you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out flat and inviting more of him in as he slowly slides his cock inside your small, soft mouth.

but it isn’t enough for you. “please, ngh i want— i need more.”

it’s like a switch is flipped, your usually sweet and careful boyfriend who always treats you like you’re made of glass, finally snapping and becoming rough with you; animalistic moans escaping him as he begins fucking your face.

“greedy fucking slut,” he snarls, tangling his fingers in your hair as he thrusts his cock down your throat. “you want more, huh? i’ll fucking give it to you.”

he moves his hand from your jaw to the back of your head, holding you steady as you keep bobbing your head and swallowing around his length.

“take it, slut,” he growls, thrusting harder and almost forgetting it’s your mouth he’s fucking, and not a toy. “shit… baby, that feels so good.”

you gag around him, drooling all over yourself as mascara cascades down your cheeks and your perfectly applied red lipstick a mess, all smudged from having your plush lips wrapped around your boyfriend’s dick.

you feel your throat beginning to burn and you can barely see his face due to the tears welling in your eyes, but you still want more. you want to please him, and take him - all of him; wanting him to move faster, deeper, until you’re a trembling mess and can’t breathe.

jeno hisses before yanking your hair harshly and thrusting back into your mouth, “you’re such a dirty little whore… fuck— you love choking around my cock, don’t you, slut?”

humming in agreement around him, he lets a loud whimper escape him as he bites his bottom lip.

he can’t help but wipe away your tears as he fucks your tight throat and pretty face into a drooling, needy mess. your boyfriend moans loudly, tangling his fingers into your hair before increasing his pace.

“oh yeah?” he growls, pushing your head down to make sure you choke around him and taste every inch of him. “let’s see how much you can take before you start crying like a little girl and beg for air.”

౨₊ৎ Haechan

dacryphilia, squirting (!!!!!) and pet names 😫😫

“please fuck— yes, hyuck, nggh don’t stop,” you mewl, barely able to make out coherent sentences as you babble nonsense with the need to cum.

you know at this point, your brain is purely focused on haechan’s mouth on you; the way he grinds against the mattress to relieve himself as he pleasures you with his mouth and fingers, the sweet sounds escaping the both of you…

you know you aren’t going to last long.

haechan gazes up at you through hooded eyes, you can feel him smirk against your cunt as he devours you, listening to your pleas.

he’s more than practiced at making you fall apart and making you cry and scream his name, which is why he has a new mission to be fulfilled: to make you squirt.

and, since he knows your body better than you do, he knows the only way to make that happen, is to edge you first.

so that is what he decides to do.

his wet lips closes around your throbbing clit, sucking harshly as his eyes focuses on the expressions you are making, taking in each of them in and memorising what makes you feel good.

and without a warning, he inserts two of his fingers inside of you, curling them and hitting the spot you love oh so much.

you can’t help but scream his name and arch your back for more.

“that’s the spot, huh pretty?” he smirks, moaning as he feels your walls clench around his digits. “shit, you like it when i touch this spot, don’t you?”

you bite your lips, tears streaming down your cheeks as you desperately hump haechan’s fingers, his wet tongue, and his pretty face; searching for release.

with every breath you take, soft whimpers and ‘oh my god’s’ leave your lips.

“you gonna come for me, princess?”

you nod vigorously, lust practically plastered in your eyes as his fingers and tongue begins to match the pace of your rocking hips.

“h—hyuck…” you whimper as you twitch, moaning as he leaves bite marks alongside the many other bruises that litter your body from his mouth. “god, i’m gonna—fuck!”

you sob when you feel his breath against your core, “let it go, baby,” he growls as he sucks and licks your clit with a moderate amount of pressure. “cum for me.”

he smirks when he sees tears sliding down your cheeks, “you’re so so so beautiful when you cry for me, angel…”

“so fucking pretty,” he moans, the thrusts of his fingers getting rougher and rougher every time you let out a sound.

“fuck— baby girl, i wanna see you shower the fucking sheets… wanna watch you cry, hear you scream. let it all out, baby, soak my fucking hand.”

“no, wait—” you start, but it’s too late.

you feel the sudden sound of fluids gushing down the side of your knees, soaking your inner thighs as tears of humiliation burn down your cheeks.

you feel embarrassed, mortified in fact but, hyuck merely makes a seal with his lips and sucks your clit so hard that it’s enough to clutter your vision as you gush around his fingers and mouth.

“shit— that’s it, squirt for me. fuck, just like that, that’s my girl.”

౨₊ৎ Jaemin

overstimulation, face sitting & auralism <3333

“fuck— i need to taste you now,” he groans, his lips immediately finding your tits, pulling down the cups of your bra to get better access to your nipples. he latches on to your nipple, sucking firmly while kneading the other in circular motions. “c’mere baby, sit on my face.”

he wastes no time in finding your swollen clit with his tongue, wrapping his arms around your thighs and burying his face deeper into your wet pussy.

as he sucks on your clit, he looks up at you; his eyes focusing on you and your facial expressions.

he loves the small gasps and moans you let out, but he wants you to scream for him.

“are you holding back?” he asks, his tongue swirling around your clit faster, his moans causing vibrations that had you whimpering his name.

“don’t. i wanna hear your pretty little moans.” he adds, urging you to scream for him.

you feel yourself getting closer to your release as he speeds up his ministrations, and when you finally come with a scream of his name and a yank of his hair, he laps up your spill of juices dutifully, cleaning up every last drop as you come down from your high.

“oh? you thought i was done?” he poses, “no no, baby, you can take one more for me, right?”

౨₊ৎ Chenle

exhibitionism & dumbification 🥵

“chenle,” you plead, your voice thick with tears as you try your best to stop yourself from rolling your hips against his, “there’s people nearby— oh my god, we’ll get caught.”

“fuck them,” he groans into your ear before looking up at you, his deep voice and gaze sending shivers down your spine. “let them walk in, I don’t give a shit.”

you feel your thighs begin to quiver and shake as he continues having his way with you, fucking and using you like a rag doll, and just when you feel your legs almost give out from under you, chenle grabs your hips and wraps them around his waist as he keeps fucking you.

for a quick second, you’re grateful, but that’s until you realise this new angle has his dick drilling even further into your cunt.

“oh my god,” you cry out, “we can’t— chenle… you’re crazy.”

he just smiles at you, looking into your eyes; knowing they’re saying a differing story. thrusting his hips in deeper, he hisses as your hot walls squeeze around him, groaning loudly before he begins rubbing your clit in fast circles.

“tell me to stop,” he purrs seductively, kissing at your jaw before trailing kisses along your neck, “fuck— say you don’t want this as much as i do, and i’ll stop.”

the way your eyes roll into the back of your head has the blood rushing right to chenle’s cock. you both know for a fact you won’t tell him to stop, and when he begins thrusting faster, setting a relentless and merciless pace, you can’t help but give in and moan his name like a prayer as you fall apart.

“that’s my fucking girl,” he smirks proudly, picking up his pace, letting his movements do the talking for him. “shit, that’s it, baby… scream my name, let them hear you.”

౨₊ৎ Jisung

breeding and dacryphilia <3

“you wanna cum?” he questions, placing your legs over his shoulders as his pace quickens, a choked moan falling from your lips at the feeling.

you nod vigorously, your voice already slipping into a little whimper as you squeeze your eyes.

“fuck, baby… ‘m gonna fill you up good,” he purrs, thrusting forward, loosening his grip on your waist until his cock is fully sheathed inside your gspot.

“that’s the spot, right baby?” he growls animalistically, teasing you with a few shallow, yet powerful and merciless thrusts, as you wrap your legs around his waist, trying to feel more of him inside you.

“oh my god, jisung— fuck, right there,” you moan, feeling his groans echoing throughout your body, as he leans forward, placing his hands on either side of your head and leaning down to kiss you deeply, hungrily; biting your bottom lip and making you gasp. “please, i want you to come inside of me.”

“yeah, babe?”

jisung smiles devilishly, quickening to a brutal pace as he trails a hand down to massage your throbbing clit.

“want me to fill you up with my cum over and over again? get you pregnant?” he whispers, loving the way your entire body shakes and reacts to the thought of him knocking you up.

© foolsunz 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost, translate, modify, or take credit for any of my works.

[2kiran]

BOYYYYY THE MILKMAN SMUT WAS SO GOOD. care for another one? i NEED to fuck the real francis mosses now…i’m imagining the doppelgänger being jealous asf of him too ouuujhhhh

FRANCIS MOSSES 交易 ── `` DARK CONTENT﹕nonconsensual voyeurism. top amab reader. doppelgänger francis is watching, real one doesn’t know it. dry humping. clothed sex. different timeline from prev fic. ✶ IN WHICH francis wants to be more than just a neighbor.

for who to blame, you don’t permit yourself to think. francis, the lovely neighbor, is propped on your lap. poor man was flustered, sweat gathering on his skin like a coat. gullible; and so unaware. entirely dumb of the fact that his doppelgänger was gazing upon the scene through the crack of your bedroom door. you could almost imagine the creature’s expression, twisted in envy.

your palms cupping his hips, which are erratically pressing themselves against you. chasing after the friction he craved during the in-between’s of his working hours, pent up frustrations translating into insatiable sexual desire.

“gosh, ‘m sorry... hnngh, needed to feel you against me.” his teeth grit with a whine, tucking his head to your shoulder. effectively obscuring his ever burning pit of shame which laid heavily in his gut.

supposedly, you were to help him of deliveries as a noble—not only a doorman but as well a—citizen. however, you were not put in a situation to complain whilst he clutched onto you as he switched to tantalizing grinds. “couldn’t wait anymore, hm?”

words a tease, he could feel himself losing track of the rhythm. sloppy and unexperienced; though not enough to be labeled as someone so pure from filth. “please,” the doppelgänger’s eyebrows wrinkled with disgust at the actual francis’ plea.

“please, i, mm,” and the milkman is at a loss for words.

the creature, despite his apparent hatred, palmed his cock within the confines of his pants. fuck, his tip was leaking with pre-cum that without a doubt painted his length in a creamy tone.

he was ablaze with jealousy while you got your dick wet with the one whose identity he attempted to steal. “say it.” the commanding quality of your voice left no room for objections that even he felt the obligation to speak his thoughts.

“can- can i take off your pants? i want you inside me..” what a darling francis mosses was.

a humming released from your sealed lips; he waits. “not completely,” he’s confused until you pull the zipper, freeing your cock from the side and his shyness returns. “better?”

francis nods, cheeks warmed at the scenery. the doppelgänger despised that. “i’m ready, did it myself this morning.” he sheepishly mumbles, releasing himself of his lower garments. “did you plan this?”

it’s taken as an accusation. “no!” could’ve been an exclaim if he wasn’t so breathless in effort of aligning his hole to your tip, “but i’ve... imagined it, you know. keep myself awake to— oh fuck.”

an inch, then a second, and now you’re void of a clue. rewarding yourself with the relief of triumph of the theory that he would feel a lot better than the copy; he is.

if you were to say that aloud, you’re sure the targeted one would be angry enough to keep you from finding your release.

francis’ thighs lay atop of yours, warming your cock with his sensitive walls. he tries to lift himself up, only to realize he was incapable. energy spent due to the earlier attempts. you are met with a whimper, a look in his eye, and the trembling of his lips.

the other tenants are certain to file a complaint.

masterlist﹒divider﹒artist kaworinx

[rafesslxt]

𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬 | 𝐦. 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞

nsfw | mattheo riddle | requested by 6 readers

aesthetic: 🫦💋⛓️🗣️ ⎥masterlist⎥words: 1,6k

「 ✦ you have a little fun with tied up mattheo ✦ 」

warnings: smut, sub!mattheo, whimpering, use of vibrator and cockring, tied up, moaning, dirty talk, overstimulation, teasing, edging, begging, p in v unprotected, cum,blowjob, handjob

prompts used: A2; "ooh fuck – it's s-so sensitive" A4; "Please, I've been so good! I didn't even touch myself!" A14; "you keep your hands where they are or I'll tie you up."

note: english is not my first language, If u don't like submissive men; don't read

"You keep your hands where they are or I'll tie you up." my voice rang through the room while I sat down on my boyfriends thighs.

"Please, I've been so good! I didn't even touch myself!" he argues back, his bottom lip tugged between his teeth. We didn't do this very often since Mattheo was more of a dominant person but here and there when he felt like it, he would let me control the situation. And oh boy would he be a submissive little thing.

"Hmm you know what? I feel like still doing it." I answered with a mischievous smile on my face as I grabbed one of my ties that laid on the nightstand and wrapped it around his wrists and his headboard.

He groaned in frustration and earned himself a raised eyebrow from me, which shut him up real quick. " 'm sorry.." I nodded in approval and let go of the tie when I was ready putting it around him.

His shirt and pants were already gone through our previous make out session so I had it easy with undressing him. I looked down from his face to his boxer shorts that had a visible and hard bulge in them.

I teased him with my fingertips, slowly running them over his tent. " y/n please, don't tease me.." I chuckled and smirked at him. "Where's the fun in that?"

I leaned down and kissed him through his underwear where a little wet spot started to form, probably from his arousal. Mattheo lifted his hips and grinned his bulge against my face which caused a deep moan to leave his mouth.

I kissed my teeth, shaking my head. "If you wanna cum tonight I would advise you to be a good boy and don't move." A frustrated sigh left his lips and he looked down at me with his lips parted and his pupils blown.

My hands pushed his boxers down so his cock slapped against his stomach and as I already guessed, the tip was covered in pre-cum. I wrapped my hand around him and slowly moved it up and down, rubbing my thumb over his tip every time my hand moved upwards.

"Baby, don't want your hand right now.. need the toy.." he whined when I moved my hand up and down on his shaft just how he usually likes it. I raised my eyebrows at him and shook my head. "That's a little ungrateful, don't you think Matty?" My voice sounded sweet and nothing like I already planned in my head to show him who's in charge.

"I'm s-sorry please, just need more." I leaned over to the nightstand again where his toys were. I grabbed a cockring and a little vibrator. I noticed his eyes widening at the cockring, his mind already guessing that it meant no coming for him. I turned the vibrator on, at first on the lowest setting before I held it against his leaking tip.

"Oh-" a whimper left his lips and he closed his eyes to completely concentrate on the newest feeling. "Feels good, baby?" I asked him innocently, my voice sweet like sugar again. "Shit yes, feels so good – merlin!"

A little smirk formed back onto my lips when my thumb pressed the little plus symbol on the settings, putting the toy on the highest setting. The buzzing was loud like the whimpers and moans that left Mattheo's mouth now.

"Ooh fuck – it's s-so sensitive!" he whined. "Already?" I said in a mockery tone, enjoying the view in front of me. His hips started to buck up against the toy, his eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth wide open, jaw unlocked.

My other hand grabbed the cockring and put it on. "It's too much baby- shit.." he whimpered. "If you wanna stop say your word." Before we first tried switching the roles of being submissive, we each chose a word If we really wanted to stop. His was snake and mine was peach.

He shook his head, his cheeks heating up. "N-no.." "Then stop whining and take it." "I'm close, so fucking close! Please take the ring off, y/n, please." he started begging, knowing If it was on he wouldn't be able to cum. I grabbed his balls and started massaging them while the vibrator still buzzed against his now red and leaking tip. His hips started to buckle uncontrollably, making it harder for me to hold the toy against his tip.

Right when he first started twitching, I pulled the toy and my hand away, leaving him unsatisfied. "F-fuck! noo.. no no no no, please y/n! Fuck I need to cum so fucking bad."

A evil little laugh left my lips when I watched how desperate he lifted his hips in hope of some friction. "Hmm please, need to be inside you.." "What? I thought you wanted your toy huh?" I teased him, leaning down to start kissing his throat.

"No, no I swear I'm sorry. I just need you, please let me be inside you baby." he sobbed, tears forming in his eyes as he looked up at me. A sigh left my lips when I pushed my underwear to the side and hovered over his cock. He looked down between us with hope and desperation in his eyes.

"You want me to ride you, baby?" I asked him teasingly, slowly rubbing his tip between my wet folds, making him lose his mind. "Yes, so badly!" I lowered myself down onto him until the tip was inside of me. A low groan was heard from him, his eyes rolling back.

Then, with one movement, I let myself fall down on him until he was inside of me with not an inch left. "Oh – shit!" he tried to free himself with tugging on the tie around his wrists but it was useless.

A little laugh left my mouth when I saw him struggling. "Fuck this isn't funny y/n!" Mattheo hisses at me after i laughed a little over his whimpers. "Yeah you‘re right, it‘s hot." I say grinning, moving my hips painfully slow up and down.

"I swear I - I can‘t take it anymore baby, please." he whined and buckled his hips up but I lifted mine a little too. He whimpers again at the loss of contact. "We already talked about this Matty. If you‘re a good boy and lay still you can cum."

He groans and bites his bottom lip, pressing his hips down into the mattress to stay still. "That‘s right.." I whispered into his ear, kissing behind it which made him shiver. "You feel great baby.. doing good for me mh?" I moan as I start to move my hips again and felt him deep inside me.

He pressed his full lips together into a thin line and only nodded for an answer. I smiled when I saw how he tried to stay still and be a good boy for me. His cheeks were completely flushed, sweat was forming on his forehead and his eyes were heavy, almost too heavy. His breathing was fast and his skin felt hot against my own.

I moved my own hand down towards my clit and moved my fingers over it just like he would normally do. "Oh yeah baby, touch yourself, fuck that's so hot." he breathed out heavily, not taking his eyes off of my fingers. I clenched around him hearing his voice like that. He groaned when I tightened around him.

I felt my stomach tightening, sensing I was close. I moved my hips faster in the same rhythm like my fingers until I moaned Mattheo's name to send even more shivers down his spine. "Fuck Mattheo.. I'm so close, I'm gonna come around you."

A whine was heard from him but I blended everything around me out when my orgasm finally hit me. My mouth was wide open and my hips moved in a fast rhythm against him, no hearing a word from him.

When I slowly calmed down again I opened my eyes, my hips still moving. "Please let me come I- I can't take it anymore I'm gonna fucking explode I swear!" A loud, broken sob echoed through the room when I lifted my hips up and his cock slapped against his stomach again.

I pulled the ring off him and laid in between his legs. "You sure you deserve to come?" I ask him with a soft voice, my hand wrapped around his base.

He nodded his head like he was possessed and bucked his hips up again. "I'm begging you princess, please let me come.." his voice sounded weak and frustrated so I decided to finally give him what he wanted.

So I wrapped my lips around his tip and carefully sucked around it. "Hmpf –" I smiled around him and looked up to see him with his eyes closed and his cheeks red like never before. "I'm so close.."

I took more of him into my mouth and bobbed my head up and down, moving my hand around his base too and my second hand on his balls again, driving him crazy. I head a mix of a broken sob and cry again before he twitched inside my mouth, his hips grinding up against my face and my mouth slowly filled with his cum.

The room was filled with his whines and whimpers, my lips sucking on his still sensitive tip. "Ohh fuck you're gonna be the death of me." he breathed out when I opened my mouth and showed him my empty mouth.

"Oh that wasn't it, Matty." I grinned wicked when I saw his wide eyes.

thank you for requesting and for anyone else thanls u for reading and supporting 🫶🏻

taglist: @justarandomcanadiantransdude @helendeath @thatonepansexual2000 @imabee-oralizard @supernaturaldawning @cardi-bre91 @gxdsfavgal @synicaljah @yourenogoodforme @sofa-couch26 @little-miss-naill @kolsangel @auxcordlawd @itsarajr @jolly4holly @hisparentsgallerryy @slytherinscreamqueen @mixvchelle @littlemadamred @ummmmmmm-username @jeannie-beannie @belle-blue @beautywine @sagetakami @simp-for-fantasy @whyamireadingthis @i-like-pandas5 @jordynhartley2001 @romantasyreader28 @giasus-@batsching @themissingweasley26 @thegirlwhosimpstoomuch @tiaajosephin @meneatervv

xoxo sarah <3

[luvwestwood]

❝ FROM ME, TO YOU ❞ - Satoru, Choso, Kento, Toji, Suguru, Sukuna

— (18+) HOW THE JJK MEN WOULD SPEND THEIR VALENTINE'S WITH YOU.

₊˚༊*·˚ warnings. nsfw(18+), (cw in order), food play, solo play, cheating/homewrecking, breeding, mildly dubious consent, multiple face slapping, rough sex, public play, discreet vibrator use, slight humiliation, public sex, oral sex(m/f rec), sex-tape making, anal, spanking, ass eating

₊˚༊*·˚ notes. valentines day gift from me 2 u lovelies!!! choso's one is so absurd. im sorry… not. hope u all enjoy, I had so much fun writing these... also the toji one had me creaming so it goes second. if any gifts were given by the men, i have kindly included specific links ^^

Choso Kamo - "Sweet Surprise"

Choso being the sweetest boyfriend ever, loves to surprise you with a 'sweet' treat on Valentine's day. Taking his time to produce what he calls a 'signature' of his; homemade cinnamon rolls glazed in icing - his secret recipe that always has you wanting more.

"Baby, come here will you?" Choso calls from the kitchen, the comforting smell of cinnamon lingering around the entire home. "I've made your favorite!" He adds on, waltzing around the place with a pink frilly apron; portioning out the first piece for you. The apron was a funny gift you gave him for Christmas last year, since he loved cooking so much.

Stepping into the kitchen, you squeeze your eyes shut; taking in the comforting aroma. "Oh wow, it smells divine in here." Eyes opening again, you walk over to Choso, linking onto his forearm. His forehead all sweaty, your heart aches- it was probably from working so hard to make you these rolls for Valentine's day.

"Take a seat- you get first bite," he beams a smile down at you, planting a tender kiss on your forehead. Peeling away from your grasp for a moment, he surges over to your typical seat, pulling the chair out like a gentleman.

You laugh as you sit down, Choso scooting the dished cinnamon roll closer to you. Your mouth watered— freshly baked, the cinnamon sugar perfectly melted, and the icing.. your favorite part.

Taking a huge bite, the glaze manages to stick to the tip of your nose; Choso cheesing across from you as he watches your every move. "..You like it?" something he loves to ask, as if your answer wouldn't be the same like every other time.

"Of course I do, Choso- you know that I'm never, ever going to say no." Using your finger to swipe the icing off your nose, you bring it to your mouth; completely devouring any bit of the sweetness you can get. "Mmph- baby, this is too good, did you do something different today?"

..He did, in fact, do something different. Wanting to make the rolls extra special just for you, Choso glazed them with his own icing.

— Earlier on, observing you were occupied enough to not notice; Choso stuffed the oven mitt into his mouth, hand softly jerking himself off over the tray of cinnamon rolls.

"..Ngh.. She's gonna love these," Choso grunts, his cheeks flushed with crimson, hand leisurely moving up and down his length. He wanted to ice these with love. Quietly whimpering into the mitt, his hand reaches up to the cabinet knobs for support, his body technically leaning against the counter. Eyes shut, still incessantly jerking off his cock, Choso was planning to milk himself dry.

The pace of his movements fluctuates, at the same time he tries to get off to the image of you eating the finished product; a thought that has his cock throbbing, leaking. Breathing gradually becoming more labored, he whines, trying to urge himself to cum - at least get that one bit out of him.

"F-fuck.." Choso curses through gritted teeth, canines desperately digging deeper into the fabric of the oven mitts. His balls relentlessly tighten as ropes of white spurts out from his tip, prettily decorating over the surface of the cinnamon rolls.

Brows furrowing invertedly, his mouth gapes; dropping the mitt completely. Unsatisfied, he analyzes them for a bit; until coming to the decision that it wasn't enough. "..Need.. more.."

He frantically scans around the kitchen, his eye landing on a fresh orange. Choso reaches for it from the fruit-basket, grabbing a knife nearby to slice it in half. Crafting a makeshift flesh-light, he praises himself at the innovative idea.

Choso's two fingers dig inside of the flesh, forcing open a fuckable hole. He lewdly licks off the acidic juice to refrain from doing any extra cleaning. Sliding his throbbing cock inside, a long sigh escapes his lips as the cool pulp wraps around his length. He begins to rut into the fruit; both thighs thudding against the counter.

"Ah.. ah... ngh-" Multiple feral groans come out in short, sharp pants; Buckets of sweat trickling down his skin, he imagines himself fucking into you; picturing the fruit as your tight hole, that only he gets to use.

"Gotta cum.. again.." Choso whimpers, watching his tip coming in and out from the other side of the fruit. "..Need.. to make her.. happy.." choking out between thrusts, he grips onto the orange tighter, the zesty flesh enclosing around him. It felt good, but it wasn't you. Though it had to do.

His cock glistens in the juice; length all wet and slippery— Choso tugs on the hem of his tank top bringing it between his teeth again, using it as something he could suppress his moans with.

Feeling himself reaching his high for the second time, a quiet symphony of whines and heavy breathing escaping through the fabric; Choso was just vocal, he can't help it. Biting down on his wrinkled hem had only resulted in it being stained with saliva.

Not a single mewl comes out of his throat. Choso helplessly grips onto the counters; pulling the orange off in an instance, throwing it to the side; his cock twitching around as even more spurts of thick cum leaks out of his tip. Sensibly, he finally uses a free hand to try and guides his cock so that it wouldn't go out of control.

Letting out a long breath, finally pleased; he peers down at the cinnamon rolls with pride. Lightly tapping his overworked cock against the flat of his hand, any remaining beads of his juices land inside of the tray.

"Ah.. H-Happy Valentine's baby..." Choso's voice shakily whispers; his entire body jittering from the final orgasm. Squeezing on his cock as he gives it one last stroke, he proudly sneers; pulling his pants back up.

Toji Fushiguro - "Home-wrecker"

[WARNING: cheating, sex with ex. you have been warned. This HAS been edited b/c a reader felt that it was giving r word, but that wasn't my intention; I deeply apologise for that! I got too carried away writing. If you would like to read the original, view the reblogs with your own discretion!]

Your fiancé was bound to come home at any moment. For Valentines, you planned to surprise him by waiting in bed dressed in a newly bought lingerie set.

Dolled yourself up, spritzed on a hypnotizing fragrance; you glanced at the clock, ten minutes until he pulls up in the driveway. Tonight, you looked irresistible.

Taking a shot of tequila that was set on your vanity, you shimmied off your satin robe, only to be left in the lacy red garments that complimented your body. Quickly, you slid on some matching stockings; attaching the top band to your garters.

The shot not helping at all, your heart still hysterically thumped against your chest as you laid yourself down on the bed; propping your head up with your fist.

Upon hearing the front door shut from downstairs, you breathed deeply; noticing that he was home a few minutes earlier, not that it meant anything.

"I'm in our room babe!" you called out, biting down on your bottom lip as you smiled, excitement now taking over your system at last.

You could hear the creaking of the floorboards as he climbed up the stairs; in which you anticipated the look on his face as soon as he sees you.

The walking stops, your bedroom door opening. Putting on your best, seductive face; had instantly turned into pure mortification— your ex, Toji, standing in the door frame instead.

"W-what the are you doing here?!" tugging at the bedsheets, you shield yourself with the blanket. "Get the fuck out, or I'm calling the cops!"

His eyes pan around the room; the framed photo of you and your fiancé grabbing his attention. "Didn't have time to get you flowers though, apologies."

"You're gonna be in deep shit if he finds out you were here," you say, scooting yourself further back on the bed until your spine touched the headboard. "..Where is he anyway?"

Toji tuts, your words not affecting him in any way whatsoever. Furious, he cannot imagine your stupid fiancé having you all to himself tonight. "That doesn't matter, I had him sorted." he walks to your nightstand, facing the framed picture of you and your fiancé down onto the wooden surface. "Like he cares about you anyways. Saw him downtown with another chick the other day."

"I don't believe you. Out of all people, you think I would anyways?" you spat out, his face blank, and emotionless— "You've- you've changed, that's what. That's the reason I left you, FYI."

"Who got you this? Him?" he toys with your bra straps, gently tugging it down; the thin, red material hanging off your shoulder.

You ignore his question, "We can't-," saying in a short breath, he stops. "..You had a year to solve this. All of it." Tears welling up in your eyes, his gaze softens— the voice inside of his head mentally cursing at himself for losing you. "..I'm literally getting married next summer.."

His fingertips reach under your chin, "..Then let me make it up to you," Toji studies your features, his heart aching. "..I'll give you what I failed to- back when we were dating." Voice laced with authenticity, his lips hovering over your skin. "..Please?"

Your hands move forward, tugging at his soft, raven strands. You had to think about it, but fuck, was it the liquor?"..Fine- You have one chance. One." your words end in a whine, Toji eager as you gave him the green light— pulling the waistband of his pants down. His cock springs free; so heavy and girthy. One chance, he had to make the most of it.

"I missed you so much," he whispered, placing a pattern of love bites all of your skin like a canvas, "..This pussy, and you- all of you." and a suck and tug at your clit, "I was stupid for letting go of us." Toji places a peck on your inner thigh, dangerously close to your pooling cunt. "So stupid."

Your lips quivers at his words, would all of this really be worth the consequence? You knew better, why didn't you kick him out? Hell, call the police? Right, you'd eventually come looking for him, but he somehow managed to do it all before you.

Stripping off his black tee, Toji mills it somewhere across the room; arousal between your legs at his defined physique. Gasping as he effortlessly dragged you off the bed, the two of you stand up, your legs encompassed around his slim torso. You finally loosen yourself to him, intertwining your tongues at your own will.

You could feel the tip of his cock graze against your folds, Toji trying to sink you down onto his length. After a few seconds of being a tease, he slides into you, both groaning at the sensation of your walls wrapped closing him for the first time in what feels like ages.

Toji murmured into your neck, walking the two of you over to your vanity mirror; his cock lodged inside of your hole. Not only did he get bigger in relation to muscle, but his dick size too. "Seems like the fiancé wasn't fucking you right."

He glances over to the reflection of you cradled around his body like a sloth, and shortly after, he begins to rut his hips up into you. Your tits bounce as he does, Toji growling as he continuously snapped into your hole; balls hitting against your skin.

His hands roam around the surface of your ass; Toji drilling into you, after not having your pussy for so long. He wasn't going to let this opportunity go to waste— he was going to prove himself right. The sex just felt ten times better tonight, possibly due to how scandalous the circumstances were.

"Fuck," he mumbled, your forehead falling heavy onto his muscular shoulder. You bit onto his skin, moaning endlessly at Toji rearranging your guts. He didn't allow this though, the man firmly striked his palm against your ass from below, causing you to withdraw your head back off his shoulder.

Filthy sounds of sex echoed throughout the room, Toji using you like a ragdoll, he devilishly grunts. Unsatisfied, he lays you against the vanity top— his cock not sliding out of you, and he remains between your legs.

Placing one hand on your hip, the other resting on the mirror's frame; Toji bucks himself mercilessly into you, the vanity rocking against the wall. "..Pussy too good," his head falls back, enthralled, moving back down to watch as his hand eagerly grabs onto your boob— a few products falling off the vanity from how hard he was fucking you.

"T-Toji.." you choke out, head about to burst from the pressure building up inside of you, Toji fucking into your gummy walls; my, did he fuck you good. Always. You could feel him filling every inch of you, the veins on his cock kissing against your insides.

Toji lays a hand on your cheek, swiping a thumb across your face. "You can take it," he cooed, "I know you can-" At this point, he has turned feral, but refused to hurt you. Minute orbs of sweat drenching his forehead, his hair becoming spiky at its ends.

You chant his name repeatedly, clawing at his back; leaving marks of crimson just like your torn garments. Toji's bends down closer; index and thumb lightly gripping onto your jaw. "Look at me, come on- I wanna see your pretty face,"

No intention to stop, Toji reaches for your hand; yanking the engagement ring off your finger, throwing it across the room. "I'll get you a better one, y'don't need that anymore."

His forehead intimately rests against yours, "We'll go- somewhere far," voice cracking, he holds onto you tightly; keeping you close to him. "How about we start fresh, hmm?" Toji's movements slow, and passionate; "Answer me baby- I wanna hear it from you,"

"Yes, yes- fuck- I'll do it," your eyes flickering, struggling to stay open. "Just- I'm.. I'm gonna cum,"

"Give it to me", he moaned out, voice trembling. "..Let it all out-" Toji's words like a spell, you shuddered around his length, your plush walls convulsing uncontrollably. He grunts in response, at the same time he hurriedly pulls out, ropes of white decorating your lower abdomen.

"…God damn," he sighs, your eyes shutting— Toji toys with his cock, slapping the tip against your clit. He smiles, planting a tender peck on your lips; giving your tits a slap. Massaging the plump on your thigh, he attempts to soothe your nerves; until something that he says takes you by surprise.

"..Oh yeah, your ex-fiancé is in the basement. How 'bout round two in front of him all tied up?"

Satoru Gojo - "A Heart(-throbbing) Night Out"

Two years ago, what you would have assumed an innocent, couples picnic in a floral field— ended up with him pounding you as the bees watched; still, you can recall the countless insect bites that appeared all over your legs.

Last year, you both went to Greece; Satoru treating you to a lush hotel that included a private pool looking over the coast. A pool, where he ate your ass out while you took in the beautiful scenery of Santorini.

And.. this year, it was something— different. The plan your boyfriend had laid out for this exact Valentine's was, you having a remote controlled vibrator inserted inside of you as the two of you go out for an intimate dinner date.

It took you a lot of convincing, but Satoru swore not to turn it on at the most inconvenient of times. Though he had a thing for public humiliation, so you didn't quite trust his words.

"This, it's- I love it, Satoru. Thank you." The two of you laced your hands together, yourself in awe with the venue he had chosen for tonight. Satoru flew you guys out to New York for Valentine's- in which he chose a rooftop restaurant, serving the finest food out there. Knowing this place was hard to book in with, you could only appreciate it even more.

Satoru kisses your fingers in the palm of his hand so lovingly, "I'm glad baby." Grinning, your eyes travel around his body, taking in the outfit you had bought, and picked for him tonight. That was the one thing he let you do for him. Satoru paid for your nails this week, hair and clothes; hell, even for today. You were like his doll.

"You look so beautiful, you know that?" Voice low, though you can hear him apart from the murmurs around you. Red tints your cheeks, Satoru flashing his pearly whites at your reaction.

"Oh stop it, Satoru.." You swat his hand away, relaxing against the back of your seat. He lets out a laugh, loving how flustered you tend to get at times. Due to his gushy behavior, you had completely forgotten about the bullet vibrator that was stuck inside of you right now.

"..Here's to us," Satoru holds out his glass of Pinot noir, looking at you from across the table so lovingly. Holding out your own in return, he smiles, as they both harmoniously clink together.

"To us," you responded. Retracting your hand, you take a sip; the tannic aftertaste lingering down your throat. Satoru slices the steak in front of him. You prod at your pasta with a fork, twirling it around. Before you could speak further, he shoves a bite-sized piece of steak into your mouth, saying 'ahh,' prior.

Having to chew out of your own will, you gnaw at the meat endlessly, Satoru taking glances at you from time to time.

"What's wrong?" he continued, "Something wrong with your food baby?" Satoru set his cutlery down, leaning in closer over the table.

"..Huh? Nothing is wrong?" Confused, you furrow your brows; when out of the blue, a buzzing sensation emits from between your legs. Your boyfriend watches as your mouth slightly gapes open, legs crossing over one another. A prideful grin plasters onto his face, as he watched you act all disheveled right in front of him.

Eyes widening, Satoru's eyes glint with faux concern. "No- no, let me call over the waiter. Hold on," Having the desire to toy with you even more, he raises a hand, hollering for some assistance.

Pleading quietly across the table, he ignores you; "S-Satoru, I'm fine-just please, turn it off.." You feel him increase the vibration level, the same waiter approaching you from before. Whimpering, you claw at the edge of your seat, Satoru watching you with the corner of his eye.

"..Is everything okay here?" The waiter checks on you both, meanwhile, you were using up most of your strength to suppress any sort of noise; thighs uncontrollably resorting to stamping together.

Satoru smiles, making up a white lie on the spot. "My girlfriend loves the wine you recommended to us, don't you baby?"

Trying your best to suppress a moan, you refrain from jittering in your seat; finding it difficult to string together some words. "Y-yeah.. it's amazing.." A mewl slipping past your lips, you quickly cover up your noises by pretending to clear your throat.

"We'd love to bring the whole bottle out," Satoru furthers your suffering, in which you were begging for the waiter to finally go away. Approving of his request, they head back to the kitchens; finally leaving you two alone.

As soon as they had left, you moan into your napkin; Satoru subtly chuckling at your behavior. "Can't take it?" He mockingly coos, watching as one hand of yours grips the corners of the table. "Don't you make a mess, you wouldn't want that, right?"

Hysterically shaking your head side to side, you pinch the top of your nose bridge with your thumb and pointer finger; mind completely clouding. "Fuck- turn it off, I beg you-.."

Satoru's hand slides across the table cloth, intertwining with yours. He caresses the flat of your hand tenderly, feeling how your grip tightens as he fluctuates the intensity of the vibrations. "..Can't even keep quiet," he adds on, "..'ts got my cock so hard," Satoru thankfully whispers the end of his sentence, the waiter hurriedly coming back with the full bottle of wine.

They both nod at each other, followed by Satoru pouring more wine in your glass. Your forehead rests against your knuckles as you continue to poke at the food; your boyfriend suddenly getting up from his chair. Your head began to spin, you were no longer in a state to interact with others anymore.

Instantly hauling your eyelids up, you panic, in fear of what he would do next. "..S-Satoru, what are you doing?.." You loudly sigh, heels tapping against the ground as he puts the vibrator at it's max; the coil in your abdomen threatening to snap. The wine, the stimulation the toy gives you and Satoru himself was really messing with your insides.

He walks over to your beside, kneeling shortly after, at this point you felt like you were going to faint. Satoru, from his pocket, draws out a tiny box wrapped in the familiar Tiffany & Co mint blue.

Your heart rapidly pounds against your chest; overwhelmed by what possibly could be your impending orgasm, and the stunt Satoru was pulling off right now.

"A-are you crazy?!" you peered down at him with genuine disorientation, chest heaving frantically. Everybody around not helping, they turn to watch the sentimental moment before them.

The pace at which your foot taps gradually gets faster and faster, Satoru beaming his pearly whites as he flicked the box open. A ring sparkles from the cushion, and tears begin to stain your cheeks. Being that it was a good opportunity to let it all out, everyone would have assumed you were overwhelmed by his proposal, and not the vibrator lodged inside of you.

Satoru lays his palm upon your bare leg, massaging it carefully; only adding onto your arousal— his demeanor making you feel as if he was telling you to let it all out, in both ways.

"My beautiful girl, I want to spend the rest of my life with you," he takes into account the priceless expression on your face, "You make me feel like the happiest man in the world."

Fanning your face with your fingertips, hot tears stream down your face nonstop. It took a lot in you to not moan out loud for everyone to hear, Satoru truly trying his best not to let out a laugh; "..Will you marry me?"

The constant vibrations going at high speeds inside of you urge that same coil to finally snap. His hand massages your calf gently, and you groan, slamming your fist down onto the table.

"F-Fuck! yes!" Unexpectedly, you curse at the intense high washing over you, Satoru leaning in for a passionate kiss. Relieved as his lips latched onto yours, you whimper; a sense of relief coming upon you as he does so. The applause and cheer of the audience all around allowing you to make as much noise as you want.

Your face hot, Satoru pulls away, wetness from your climax pooling in your underwear; your now, fiancé sliding the ring on your finger. The vibrations come to a halt, and you grab onto the back of your seat in relief— Satoru cunningly grins for only you to see.

"..Think I'll have my dessert at home."

Kento Nanami - "All (Tie)d Up"

Valentine's day with Kento was intimate this year. Tonight, you've prepared his favorite home-cooked meal; steak and mushrooms. The steak, medium rare and the mushrooms, preferably sauteed.

You thought it was perfect, Kento actually had gone on a mission today, so as soon as he came home; you'd be waiting for him— wearing the dress you wore on your first date, and mellow Elta James on the record player in the living room.

As a gift, you've gotten him a brand new tie. Kento loved his ties, all which were bought by you— from simplistic, to funky; yet the one you got for him today was an intricately embroidered tie in taupe, with your initial threaded on inbetween the designs.

You smiled at the box before ribboning it back up, anticipating for the moment Kento arrives home; which would be any second now. And correct, the twist of a knob sounds from the front door; with you hurriedly prancing around the kitchen table to piece together the finishing touches.

"Darling?" Kento slid his shoes off, neatly stowing them away in the cloak room. "I'm home," his hair no longer gelled back, instead some loose strands fall onto his forehead. He smiles as soon as he heard the record player faintly on in the living room.

The smell of his favorite dinner met with his nostrils, Kento following the aroma, being led into the kitchen. His eyes glimmered with content as he saw you waiting in front of the candle lit dinner, glasses of wine ready to go; and you, you looked breathtaking.

"..Beautiful, what's this?" he cheesily grinned, looking around the kitchen; watching as you approached him with a smile on your face.

"Kento, didn't you forget? It's Valentine's Day! You've been so busy that yo-" cut off abruptly with him leaning down to give you a peck on your lips, he pulled away, hushing you.

"Of course I didn't forget," Kento pulled a bouquet with your favorite flowers from behind his back, the man laughing as you rolled your eyes at him. He pulled you into a hug as soon as you took the bouquet from him, Kento leaving yet another kiss, this time, on your cheek.

The two of you walked over to the table, Kento swiftly placing his briefcase on the kitchen island. He still rushed over before you could sit down, pulling the chair out for you.

Both finally take their seats, Kento melting at the amazing food you've taken the time to prepare tonight. He glanced at you for approval before digging in, and you nod.

Pouring wine into his glass first, you do yours second. Unable to help yourself, lovingly watching his every move instead of eating your own dinner. "How's the food, is it alright?"

"It's perfect," Kento takes your hand into his, tenderly kissing on your fingers, indulging in your scent. "I'm truly lucky to have a woman like you."

The atmosphere goes quiet for a short duration, only the sound of the record player echoing throughout the home. "..I have a surprise," you both say in unison; breaking out into laughter after.

"You go first," you say, Kento disagreeing. "No, ladies first." The two of you playfully squabble before Kento gives in, walking over to his briefcase on the counter to pull out a navy, leather box, before making his way back to you.

He sits down, placing it on the table for you to open. Your eyes flicker, seeing Graff all over the ribbon. "Go on, have a look," Kento encourages you to see for yourself, his stomach fluttering.

You look at him hesitantly before opening the box, your hand covering your mouth as you gasp, a diamond necklace glimmering with the candlelight.

"Kento.." your body sank down into the seat, the man anticipating for your final reaction.

"Is it the right one? I recall you pointing at that in the magazine the other week." Your heart melted, at Kento's ability to remember the littlest things about his loved ones.

You pulled him into a hug, his large arms closing around you, engulfing your body completely. "..Thank you, I love it so much.." His amber, woody scent pleasant to your nose.

His hand caressed the back of your hair in the midst of the embrace, Kento mumbling into the crook of your neck. "You deserve it, you really do."

Pulling away, Kento reaches for the necklace, the two of you smiling as you both stood up. You faced your back towards him, bunching up your hair as he wrapped his arms around your frame, clasping the necklace behind your neck.

"..Perfect," he whispers, Kento places his hands on your waist, peppering kisses on your bare shoulder.

You giggle, turning back to face him, "Okay, don't forget I have a gift for you too!" He peels his hands off your hips to roam on your back, watching as you reached for your own square box on the side of the table.

Handing the box over to him, he takes it into his possession. Tugging at the ribbon, he takes it apart; the box opening to a bespoke tie. His index finger traces over your initial, a genuine grin appearing on his face.

“I love it so much,” his hand wraps around your body, bringing you in for another hug. Kento pulls the tie out of its box, familiarly wrapping the garment around his hand.

Lost in the moment, Kento leans in for another kiss as a thank you, but this time; it’s more passionate.

Your tongues intertwine with each other, teasingly fighting for one’s dominance, his tie wrapped hand guiding you to sit atop the table. You whine into the kiss; sexual tension lingering through the air.

Kento mindfully moves the food and candles away from your surroundings, not wanting to put the two of you at risk.

Gasping, his lips latch onto your neck, leaving sweet, meaningful kisses all over your body. You were like a reward. Your fingers tangle his golden hair, slowly travelling down his broad chest, stopping at the buckle of his belt.

He groans, hearing the sound of metal undo, watching as your hands bypass the hem of his boxers, Kento doing his gifted tie around your neck.

He ravels the fabric around his palm again, the tie on your neck tightening, but only slightly choking you.

Hopping off the dinner table, you kneel, your eyes setting onto his above. The tie on your neck tightens as soon as you pull his thick cock free, which ended up heavily resting on the flat of your cheek.

He grunts, heart doing backflips as he watched you smother his warm length all over your face; Kento impatiently slapping his tip against your lips.

Breath hitching as soon as he pushes all inches slowly into your mouth; his head falling back at your wet, hot chamber enclosing around his cock.

“..Fuck..” he whispered, pushing further down your throat; balls throbbing at the gagging noises continuously slipping past your lips.

“Good girl.. take all of it.” He praises, tears welling up in your eyes from how Kento was stuffing your mouth completely, to the point you could barely breathe.

His hips cheekily began to rock back and forth, cock fucking into your throat; the gagging noises amplifying. Your hands reached to the back of his slacks for support, your eyes squeezing shut.

Kento’s hands let go of the tie, instead he grabs your face; pushing your head down onto his cock; relentlessly fucking into your mouth.

“Ah..” he let out a laboured sigh, buckets of spit dribbling down your chin and onto your dress; Kento swiping over your cheekbones as he uses your throat like a fuck toy. “Such a good doll for me, aren’t you?”

You hum in approval around his cock, eyes rolling from arousal. The vibrations of your throat heighten his stimulation, Kento pulling on the tie to remove you off his slob covered length.

Coughing, Kento wipes the tears off your cheeks with his thumbs as he brought your chin up, telling you to open wide; dropping a fat orb of spit into it.

Not ordering you to swallow, he instead pushes his cock back into your mouth— Kento whimpering as the rutting of his hips become staggered.

“Gonna need you to swallow all my cum,” he chokes out, “Think you could do that for me?”

Nodding eagerly, Kento smiles at your reaction. The 10k necklace sparkling on your collarbone with pride.

His thrusts transition into slow, considerate movements; large hands holding tightly onto either sides of your head. Kento groans, bottoming his cock into your throat; his pelvis just touching the tip of your nose.

Your eyes enlarge, and shut as soon as you feel his warm ropes reach down the back of your throat, Kento sighing in satisfaction. Ever so slowly pulling his cock out of your throat, a long, string of spit forms between you two, Kento gently caressing the back of your head.

Slapping the tip against your lips, he lets out any remaining beads of cum; Kento gently brings you off the ground, taking you in for one last, filthy kiss.

Unsatisfied with how he left you, Kento, without hesitation, pushes your back down onto the dining table, your two legs resting on each side of his torso.

You giggle, Kento bunching up your dress at your hips, tutting as he saw you weren’t wearing any underwear. “You naughty girl..” He sucks some air through his teeth, giving your pussy a slap with the leaking tip of his cock.

“I’m gonna put it in now. That okay?” He makes sure, a chuckle slipping past his lips as you chug down your glass of wine, Kento reaching for his to do the same.

He loosens the already tie on his neck, hands on your thighs to sink you onto his cock; Kento’s signature Tag Heuer strapped onto his wrist. The watch stays on.

Quietly grunting, he slowly moves in and out of you; his fists resorts to pressing down on either sides of your waist.

“Faster Ken-, please..” you manage to whisper, Kento leaning in closer against your body.

His hips piston into you at an unreal pace, the dining table’s legs screeching against the floors; the table itself beginning to move across the room.

“Fuck- fuck, fuck..” Kento curses under his breath, his hands shakily holding onto your waist— whimpers coming from him as you convulsed around his cock.

The cutlery on the table begins to scoot to the edge from his brutal thrusts, your tits threatening to bounce out of the neckline of your dress; Kento doing you a favour by taking them out himself.

“Look at me princess,” he cooed, grabbing your cheek; tenderly swiping his thumb across your cheekbone. “Come on, look at me, you’re taking my cock so well.”

You whine, grabbing at his tie to pull him closer, aching to have his lips back onto yours for the millionth time. He groans in the midst of the make out session, you were practically moulding into each other.

His forehead rests against yours, Kento looking into your eyes as he fucked into you, passionately. “Tell me baby, t-tell me you want my cum- I’ll give it to you,”

Kento’s voice cracking, warm tears begin to stain your cheeks, ruining your makeup; his hands fast enough to wipe them away.

“P-please, Ken- I need..” you say, unable to finish the rest of your sentence; your cock fucked mind having difficulty to string some words together.

Keen to get the words out of you, he pushed you to your limits. “What is it- come on- use your words..” He drastically slows down his movements, in order for you to sound some words properly.

“..I need your cum inside of me..” you squeal the last of your half-said sentence, Kento planting a kiss on the top of your head before standing back up between your legs.

“I’m gonna cum,” Kento bites down on his lips, his grip on your thighs intensifying; fingertips digging into your skin.

He uncontrollably whines, bottoming into your hole as he loses his own mind; cock twitching like mad as he pumped his seed into your womb.

You both attempt to regulate your breathing, the sound of the record player still on up to this very moment. His cock slides out of your hole, Kento peering down at his load dripping out of your pussy, making a mess below.

“We better finish this food…” he says, Kento helping you get back on your feet. As if you two would be able to carry on with dinner like normal anyways.

Suguru Geto - "Picnic Dick"

For Valentine's this year, both you, and Suguru planned on having a car boot picnic. The weather was absolutely perfect, and you two visited at sunset. In addition, your one contribution was making the charcuterie board; which you truly loved to do.

After having a light bite, you both agreed to play around in the water; the tides still calm at this hour.

"The water is cold, Suguru!" you squeal, your boyfriend splashing droplets at you, causing you to squirm around. He laughs, in return you splash back; Suguru charging towards you.

"Don't come close to me!" You scream, feet wading in the water with all your strength. Speeding up, you were close enough to the shore— until a pair of soaking forearms wrap around your waist; taking you off your feet, heading for the sands.

"You're not going anywhere," Suguru teases, his grip tight around your stomach. You playfully jitter in his hold, the two of you falling back down on the picnic towel; breaking out into genuine laughter.

He remains hovering on top of you, your back resting against the soft material of the towel— Suguru tucking strands of hair away from your face to get a better look at you. "Fuck, you're beautiful," he whispers, in return you attempt to cover your face with your hands; flustered.

Suguru grabs your wrist to get them out of the way, leaning in for a tender kiss. What was a soft peck, turns into a longer, hungrier kiss. You, still being in his embrace, Suguru stills his knee intimately between your legs— a noise coming from your throat as he swiped his tongue on your lips.

"Mmph," you moaned, pulling away for a short duration, "There's people all around us,"

Suguru's lips leave yours, latching onto your jaw instead, leaving a trail of loving kisses behind. "Wrong, there's no one here at all," you feel him smirk against your neck, his hands roaming and massaging at your waist.

Ticklish, you giddily laugh, "Okay, but what if someone comes in the next five minutes?" Your hands rake through his strands the more he went lower down your body with the kisses, Suguru guiding one of your legs over his shoulder as he came to a halt between your legs.

"Then I'll be done with you in four," Suguru grabs your thigh, massaging it gently; placing a warm kiss directly on your soft skin. His head goes underneath your mini-skirt, as you hysterically look around the environment for any people. Fortunately, nobody was here.

You feel his finger tug at the hem of your thong, attempting to pull it to one side. But he doesn't, and instead licks over the fabric, your voice trembling as you sigh out his name. He continues to lap at the material; humming in response to you calling for him.

The sound of the waves crashing against each other put you in a state of euphoria, Suguru finally pulling your panties to one side; kitty licking at your clit.

Back arching against the blanket, you were breathless; Suguru gently fucking the tip of his tongue into you. Hands leaving his strands, you fondle with your breasts, your boyfriend groaning against your folds as he ate you out. From time to time, he'd stick a digit in, curling his fingers up inside of your plush walls.

Your head heavily falls to the side; a few people in the distance catching your eye. You frantically tap on Suguru's head over the fabric of your skirt, he remains occupied against your folds.

"Sug- Suguru, there's people coming. Get up baby," you prop yourself up on your elbows, your boyfriend firmly gripping onto the soft of your thighs; not allowing you to get up.

"Don't mind them," he responds, unbothered, busy alternating between sucking and fucking a finger or two into you.

You whine, back falling onto the towel for a second time; your legs clamping around Suguru's head. Returning to fucking his tongue into you, he lazily rubs circles on your sensitive bud with a thumb. Looking to your side once more, you see the people gradually getting closer; and it seems like they have no clue yet.

"Let it all out on my face," you hear him plead from under your skirt; your mouth forming an o, brows furrowing as the thumb on your clit was replaced by his tongue. He sucks, eyes closed as he eagerly waits for you to decorate his face with your juices.

Until, Suguru arises from your skirt; folding you into a mating press position, your entire pussy on show as he continues to lap at your throbbing cunt.

"W-what are you doing?!" you cry out, chest heaving as your legs shudder, Suguru relentlessly curling his digits up into you; pleasantly enjoying your warm juices covering his chin.

He groans against your folds; shirt collar soaked with you. Retracting his head from between your legs, he gently places your feet off his shoulder; the two of you looking in the same direction.

The people who were gradually coming closer, have turn around and ran away.

"So I was working like a sex machine for nothing? Just for them to turn around?" he sighs, licking around his mouth to clean anything left behind.

You haul your head up, rolling your eyes; Suguru still anchored between your legs. "Better safe than so-" You suddenly shriek, Suguru flipping you over on your stomach— rising your skirt up and giving your ass a spank.

He yanks your thong down, grabbing you by the waist— Suguru keenly pulls his cock out of his pants, his hand pressing down on the flat of your back.

"You couldn't wait until we got home?" you teased, your mischievous behavior set straight by the time Suguru slid himself in.

Hands grabbing at the sand, his hips rock into you at a brutal pace; your ass ripping against his pelvis. Suguru was practically fucking you into the ground; your body wanting to give up at times, but he decides to place his hand below your abdomen, pressing down and supporting you at the same time.

"Oh f-fuck," you whimpered, overstimulated by the additional pleasure his cock was giving you. Suguru places hands on either side of your waist, technically fucking you back onto his girthy cock. He was pussy whipped.

"You feel how deep I am?" he grunts, your eyes rolling to the back of your head; your chin falling flat onto the towel.

A spank lands on the surface of your ass; Suguru pulling you against his chest by the scalp. "Answer me," he whispers into your ear, the sound of skin slapping blending in with the sounds of the beach.

"T-too deep," you choke out, Suguru leaning more backwards; his cock fucking up into you now. His hands roam all over your chest, squeezing away at your tits as he postponed into your overstimulated hole.

You reach behind to lock your arm around his nape, Suguru placing kisses on your jaw, his movements becoming slow, but still rough.

"I'm gonna cum again.." breathless, your words come out in a mutter; Suguru's method of fucking turning into more relaxed, passionate love making.

He purrs into your ear, hands reaching down to trace shapes on your clit yet again. "You need to cum?" his tone warm, and gentle; "..do it baby, come on,"

Your head falls back onto his shoulder, dazed; no longer taking into account the environment around you. Exhausted, you shudder for the second time; Suguru enticingly mumbling sweet nothings into your ear.

"That's it.." he pants heavily against your skin, "..Let it all out for me," followed by his seed filling you up entirely; your boyfriend whimpers at his own overwhelming orgasm.

Suguru keeps you in his embrace, cock still lodged into your hole. Placing a few more kisses down your back, his hands snake down your sides; length slipping out of your used hole.

You look behind you, eyes widening as you saw the tides getting closer; soaking almost the corner of the towel.

"..Suguru, we need to go!" you clamour, swiftly grabbing your thong off the ground, Suguru yelling as he reached for your picnic gear, and shoes.

Sukuna Ryomen - "Take a photo so it lasts"

It had finally come, the day your boyfriend had eagerly been waiting for.

Why? After long, restless days of Sukuna begging to make a sex tape, the two of you had agreed to exclusively do it on Valentine's Day. And you promised. It was a mutual disclosure, that the tape would only be for your own eyes to see.

Without even realising, February 14th had finally come upon you, Sukuna even providing a fresh, new lingerie set; on him. You both had even rented out a luxury hotel, just to be extra.

"You ready to come out?" Sukuna yells from the bedroom, meanwhile you were adding a few finishing touches to your look in the bathroom. His hands were fiddling away with the camera, making sure it was good to go.

You step out of the bathroom, his camera immediately panning to you; a free hand palming himself through his boxers. Giving the camera a twirl, his cock leaks at the sight of you in the sheer babydoll dress he bought; no bra, no panties. Just your nipples peeking through the material.

A low, throaty groan comes from his throat; watching as you came closer to the edge of the bed. "Crawl to me baby," he orders, in which you obey, Sukuna smiling behind the camera as you slowly, made your way closer to him.

Stopping at his feet, you kneel, fondling with your breasts through the sheer material; Sukuna patting at his lap for you to take a seat.

You do as he says, your bare pussy rubbing against his rock hard bulge, causing moving your hips slowly. Sukuna focuses the lens on your upper half, his fingers tugging at the neckline of your dress; tits spilling out immediately.

"Fuck, those tits," Sukuna curses, turning the camera around as he latches his mouth onto your nipple; tongue swirling around the bud. You moan, raking your hands through his coral ends; hips moving faster against him.

Sucking until they go numb, his warm mouth leaves your chest; Sukuna postioning the camera on the nightstand next to the bed. He eagerly diverts his attention back to you, lips needily locking onto each other; his large hands squeezing at the plump of your ass.

Giving it a light spank, you squeal, playing with the hem of his briefs; yearning for his cock to come out. His hand grips onto your wrist, stopping your actions. "Don't rush," he whispered, holding onto your waist to flip you around; completely bending you over.

The camera perfectly captures your bare pussy on display— Sukuna spreading your two cheeks; his tongue gliding through your folds, up to your asshole.

You shriek, breaking out into a moan, the feeling of his hot tongue against your ass tickling you. "S-Sukuna!" you whine at the foreign feeling, his hand drawing back and striking your left cheek; a red imprint stays behind.

He flips you around effortlessly again, Sukuna grabbing the camera off the nightstand; holding it in one hand as he watched you eagerly yank down his briefs.

"Look at this slut," he focuses the camera on your face, your hands reaching immediately for his cock. His degrading words amplifying the arousal between your legs.

Taking his length into your hands, you lick at his tip gently, eyes peering into the camera. One hand incessantly travels up and down his shaft, your mouth stuffed with his big cock.

Spit bubbles form at his tip, the rest dribbling down towards his balls. "Shit.." he moaned, his free hand clawing at your scalp, hips bucking into your mouth like a cock sleeve, your head bobbing up and down.

Tears blur your vision, needing a bit of air you squeeze your eyes shut, sucking an outrageous amount of air through your nose. He firmly pulls you off his cock, his length twitching at your helpless gasping; Sukuna giving your cheek a slap.

"Look at the camera baby," he grabs you by the hair again, properly placing your face in the frame. "Show the camera how cock drunk you are, and I didn't even put it in yet."

A sinister smile spreads across his face, Sukuna letting go of you completely as he falls back against the pillows, head resting on the headboard. "Come on," he jerks his red, aching cock, menacingly slow. "Since you want it so bad, come sit on it," Sukuna sways his cock side to side with his fingers, camera glued on you as you scrambled onto his lap.

He places the camera back on the nightstand, watching as you use your hands attempt to line his cock up with your needy hole. Pussy hovering over his tip, Sukuna impatiently sinks you down on him completely, wails escaping your mouth from how girthy he was.

Your hands claw at his bare chest, laying just atop his inked markings. "Move those hips baby," he purred, grunts laced with gratification as you began to bounce on his cock.

"Just like that," he hissed, reaching to play with your breasts; your hand resting on his thigh behind you as he stuffed you full of his cock.

Every inch of him you managed to take. "You can do better than that," he teased, taking in how breathless you immediately have gotten in just such a short duration.

"Tired already?" Sukuna points out, his tone mocking and offensive. He grabs the camera off the nightstand, bringing it behind your back, getting a better focus on his cock pushing in and out of you.

The soles of his feet place firmly on the mattress, Sukuna resorting to fucking his cock mercilessly into you at his own will. Your voice shaking from his brutal pace, his tip bullying your cervix.

"S-sukuna, p-please," you whimper, holding onto his shoulders for dear life, eyes rolling to the back of your head; fapping noises coming from below.

“Please what?” Unsatisfied, he bucks deeply into you once, before transitioning you into a mean mating press, Sukuna placing the camera behind him to get a good shot of his cock drilling into you. “Don’t you tap out,”

He pistons his girth into your squelching, tight hole at an inhumane pace, your cries echoing throughout the hotel room. "Take this fucking cock baby, fuck- you feel so good 'round me."

His heavy balls endlessly slap against your asshole, manicured nails scraping against the skin of his back; leaving trails of crimson behind.

Sukuna growls at the feeling of you clenching around him, the bed creaking like crazy as you took him whole. His hands took a hold of your ankles as he pulled away from you, his cock entirely slipping out of your throbbing hole, and this time, he puts it into your ass.

You cry out loud; loud enough for the entire hotel floor to hear, "Ngh-, too big," your hand immediately slapping over your mouth to suppress any other noise. Sukuna found it difficult to thrust into your tight ass, his movements becoming slow, but deep.

Hips rolling into you passionately, he takes the camera behind him, gesturing you to hold it yourself. “Here, take this,”

With shaky hands, you reach for the camera, doing your best to focus on him fucking into you; from your view. His thumb grazes over your bundle of nerves, legs now on either of his toned shoulders. Sukuna kisses on your calf, before dropping an orb of spit onto his length, allowing it to be more easier for him to fuck into your asshole.

Pace momentarily speeding up, your body begins to jolt back and forth against the sheets; finding it difficult to keep holding the camera, beads of sweat dripping down his pecs, abs flexing with each thrust he forces into you.

The lens takes in how his cock disappears in and out of you, yourself faintly moaning at the sight. His hard cock stretching your asshole out, he sighs, increasing the speed of his movements again. Sukuna steals the camera from your possession, doing a close up on your two holes, one being fully stuffed with his cock.

His length glistening from the natural lubricant in your ass, he purrs out a grunt, "Where'd you want me to cum baby?" entranced by your holes sucking him in, he still was able to process your slurred words from below.

"A-anywhere.. your cock- it feels so good," you babble, your forearm covering your eyes as you began to sob; Sukuna quick enough to peel your hands away from your face.

He sucks some air through his teeth, swiftly pulling his cock out from your ass, letting his hot load out just over your folds; gliding his tip up and down to distribute the white evenly, using his cum as a lubricant to tease his cock back into your ass. “Stretched this cock whores holes out completely,” he shared with the camera footage, “Only I could do all that.”

Your feet gently kicks at his chest, doing him no harm— Sukuna’s cock resting heavily over your bare pussy, before he pans the camera at your blushing face for the last time.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24. all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not re-post on a third party platform without my permission!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts! it means the world to me, happy valentine's!🎀🩷

[luvwestwood masterlist]

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

✨Desperation✨

I’M NOT DONE YET >:)

Maybe I should go on vacation more often, gets the creative juices flowing, I hope y’all like a little bit of sub!Lucifer 😏

(No set up to this one either, this is just gonna be smut right out of the gate lmaooooo)

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Summary: A more than willing Lucifer is ready to submit to your every whim…

Warnings: 18+, smut, sub!lucifer, light dom!reader, teasing, pet names, orgasm denial, edging, hand job, oral (m & f receiving), p in v

You weren’t sure how you ended up in this situation. Well…that’s not entirely true. But you never thought that you would ever be in the situation you found yourself in. Not that you were upset at all by it. Lucifer, the almighty ruler of Hell itself, was bound and blindfolded in your bed wearing nothing more than his briefs. His hands were restrained to the bed post with tightly knotted rope while a silk ribbon obstructed his vision, leaving him absolutely helpless. Of course, you both knew he could more than easily break free from his bondage, but he wasn’t going to. He trusted you with his entire being, his devotion to you was undying. He was now yours to tease, to use, and to break. The thought excited both of you. You had already stripped naked, wasting no time as you closed in on your prey.

“Are you ready, Luci?” you asked, inching yourself closer to the foot of the bed.

“Yes, darling,” he answered sweetly, “do with me what you please.”

“Good boy,” you hummed. You heard a light moan escape his lips from just your words. He loved nothing more than receiving praise from you. You began by resting your hands on his ankles, ever so slowly moving them up to his calves, and stopping to massage the inside of his thighs. It was already apparent that he was having a difficult time sitting still, he was very sensitive after all. Your touch was intoxicating, he could never be satisfied. And the blindfold certainly amplified the experience. You finally moved your hands up his briefs and onto his hips, where he finally bucked up from your touch.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you chastised, “don’t move, baby. Be good for me.”

“Y-yes, love,” he murmured.

“Already so needy, aren’t we?,” you teased, noticing the very obvious wet spot on his shorts. “We’ve barely started.” You palmed his erection, eliciting a yelp from Lucifer. You began to slowly stroke him through his clothing, you felt his cock twitch at your gentle touch.

“Pl-Please, I-mmhn, please m-more,” he babbled. The sounds of his begging were pure ecstasy. What a feeling to have power over the most powerful being in the realm. You chuckled, reaching for the hem of his briefs, finally releasing his hardened cock. His tip leaked precum onto his stomach, Lucifer whimpered softly.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” you coerced, “tell me what you want.”

You heard an audible gulp from Lucifer. Even with the blindfold, you could tell that his cheeks had flushed a bright red. “T-Touch me, pl-please…need to f-feel you,” he choked out.

You smiled as you reached out to grab the base of his cock, forcing another moan out of Lucifer. You started to stroke his shaft up and down at an agonizingly slow pace, precum leaking onto your hand. It felt like he could burst at any second, but you planned on making this last as long as possible. You could already feel yourself getting wet from the sight of him writhing under your touch. Lucifer’s breathing became heavy as though he couldn’t get enough oxygen in his lungs. Unfortunately, he bucked up his hips to your touch again. You let go of him completely, Lucifer nearly sobbed at the loss of contact.

“What did I say, Luci?,” you scolded.

“Imsorryimsorry!!,” Lucifer cried, “Please! Please, I’ll be good. Please don’t stop…”

“You need to learn some patience, baby,” you retorted, kneeling down and taking a long lick from the base of his shaft to the head. Lucifer’s moans had turned into breathy gasps for air. Without warning, you plunged your mouth down on his cock.

“FFFUUUUCCCKKKK!,” Lucifer yelled as you continued to bob your head up and down on his length. He was well endowed, so you were careful not to take too much of him all at once. Your hot mouth engulfed half of him while your hand stroked the rest, perfectly in sync. You circled your tongue around his tip, loving the taste of his precum. The only sounds from Lucifer were screams of pleasure as you overstimulated him with your mouth.

“Talk to me, sweetie,” you said sternly, “how does this make you feel?”

“S-so good, love,” he panted, “ffffuuucckk, I’m so c-close, soooo close…”

“Mmm, what a good boy you are, Luci,” you smiled. You moved your hand and mouth away from his cock in an instant, leaving it to lay on his stomach once again. Lucifer’s breath hitched as he whined inconsolably, completely devastated by the loss of any friction. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

You crawled up onto the bed and hovered over Lucifer. You could see the beads of sweat glistening on his forehead, his breath was warm on your face. You leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. He tried to deepen your kiss but you pulled away just out of reach.

“Don’t be greedy now, darling,” you murmured into his ear, sending shivers throughout his whole body. You kissed the edge of his mouth, then his cheek, then moved down and stopped at his throat. As you started to nip and suck at his sensitive skin, you could feel his rapid pulse while you marked him. You looked up to admire your work, a beautiful purple bruise that he can show off to the rest of Hell. “I want you to show me how desperate you are for me. Can you do that, love?,” you cooed.

“Y-yes,” Lucifer whimpered, “yes, anything!”

You hummed in approval. You continued to crawl on top of him until your pussy was place right above his face. Despite being blindfolded, Lucifer knew exactly what was happening. It took every fiber of his being to keep himself restrained because he would devour you in an instant. He whimpered beneath you waiting for your command.

“Eat up, pretty boy,” you chuckled, lowering yourself closer to his more than willing mouth. You felt his tongue hit your slick folds immediately, causing you to gasp. He easily found your clit and focused all of his attention on it. You tried your best not to move too much and risk removing his blindfold, but it was easier said than done. You couldn’t help but grind against him as he lapped up your dripping cunt. You held on to the headboard in front of you, trying and failing to keep your composure. You felt the knot inside your stomach tighten more and more with each flick of his tongue. You had to pull away now before he could finish you off. In one swift motion, you pulled yourself off of Lucifer’s face and moved to sit on his chest, letting yourself catch your breath.

“NO!,” Lucifer cried, “you’re so cruel…”

“Now, now, is that anyway to speak to me?”, you teased. Before he could respond, you slid yourself down further and began to grind your cunt on his throbbing erection. Lucifer’s strangled moans filled the empty room, you could listen to him like that forever.

“Tell me what you want, Lucifer,” you barked, refusing to slow your hips as you rocked back and forth on his cock.

“F-Fuck…fuck me…p-please,” he moaned. You moved your hips faster, causing Lucifer to scream. Tears started to leak through the blindfold and fall down his face.

“I know you can do better than that, pretty boy,” you laughed coldly. “I’ll ask again, what do you want?”

“FUCK ME, P-PLEASE FUCK ME, RIDE MY COCK, PLEASE LOVE, I-I NEED TO BE IN YOU NOW, PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEFUCKMENOW!,” Lucifer cried out in agony.

“That’s what I hoped you’d say, my sweet boy” you praised. His words went straight to your aching cunt, you couldn’t wait any longer. You lined up his cock with your entrance and sank down on him, sheathing him inside of you completely. You both moaned in tandem at the sensation. Before long, you started bouncing on his cock at a steady pace at first. But only moments passed before your hips started to shift rapidly, chasing the orgasm you denied Lucifer earlier.

“Wanna-wanna see you,” Lucifer pleaded weakly, “please, p-please let me see you, love…” He sounded so broken and sweet, you couldn’t say no to him. He did so well for you, after all. You took pity on him and removed the blindfold from his face. You looked into his eyes, they were puffy from the tears he’d shed earlier. But they seemed to glow brighter once he saw you, completely drunk on his cock. “So beautiful…”, he whispered.

“Luci…,” you moaned, “feels so good, shhhiiiitt…”

“Love, s-so close, I-I can’t…,” Lucifer choked out, screwing his eyes shut. He couldn’t breathe properly anymore, he just wanted to feel you come undone.

“Look at me,” you commanded, “look at m-me when you cum. Be…Be a good boy and cum for me!” Lucifer opened his eyes, his face had turned beet red from your praise.

“I-I’m gonna…fuckfuckFUCKIMCUMMING,” he screamed, thrusting up into you only a few more times before his orgasm hit him hard, spilling his cum into your waiting pussy. Just a second later the tight knot in your stomach unraveled and you felt the waves of pleasure throughout your body, your newly painted white walls clenching around Lucifer’s cock.

Your body gave out and you collapsed on top of him, gasping for air. Lucifer snapped his fingers and the rope that had restrained him was gone. He helped you off him and laid you next to him, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. He kissed the top of your head and pushed the hair away from your face.

“That…that was so good, my angel,” Lucifer smiled. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

You laughed lightly, looking up from his chest. “Yes, I enjoyed that a lot, Lucifer, thank you. I…I wasn’t too harsh, was I? I might have teased you too much, I-” You were cut off by Lucifer’s lips, now completely forgetting what you were going to say.

“You were perfect, darling,” he reassured you. “I loved it! And I love you. We’ll certainly be doing that again.” You smiled and nuzzled into his chest.

“I put you through a lot tonight,” you said, “let me run you a bath. And then we can cuddle afterwards. Sound good?”

“Only if you join me, my dear,” Lucifer bargained. You could only smile and nod, how could you say no?

~~~~

Happy Valentine’s Day ya filthy animals!! 💖💖💖