#absolutely loving every part of yourself

[asgardian--angels]

....idk in a fandom this gigantic how are people already coalescing onto a handful of popular headcanons and scenarios that just become the baseline now, when the source material gives us literally limitless possibilities to work with

[maegalkarven]

I think Karlach witnessing Levi almost murdering Gortash and being distressed over it is the final push for Gortash to sell her to Zariel.

Bc Gortash was looking into the ways to realise all his insane plans, and now things are finally starting to fall into the full picture. He had ideas, he had plans, but now? Now, with a beautiful monster what Levi Ravengard turned out to be, he has the means.

Meanwhile Karlach keeps fussing over him, insisting Levi is dangerous, too dangerous, what he almost killed Gortash, and it's annoying. She gets into his way, she becomes more trouble than not. So he sells her and proceeds with his plan to seduce Ravengard's oldest.

Enver can do plenty of things with the knowledge what Levi is a Bhaalspawn. He can blackmail Ravengard, for starters. Threaten to unleash this knowledge into the masses.

Or he can do it smart; play the trustworthy card and swear to keep this secret, promise to honor Levi's privacy and at the same time double his efforts.

And it works marvels; unburdened by the secrecy, Levi actually flourishes under his attention. Gortash sees how scared of the urges everyone around Levi is and how...ashamed they are too, like it's some dirty secret showed under the rug. And he sees Levi himself sees how other treat his "sickness" and what a toll it leaves on him.

So he works on the angle "I like you not because the urges, but with them, because of them, because they're the part of you".

And its so new to Levi, who is used to feeling ashamed, having his father and Florrick being disappointed at him with every death he causes while also not being able to not kill (I'm a firm believer Durge, being pure Bhaal's creation, needs to kill to survive, not just wants/is driven to do that).

Levi is used to people loving him despite the urges, so then someone likes him with them, accepts all of him, every part of his undoubtedly awful self, it's the most freeing thing in the world.

He can breathe, for the first time in his life he can actually breathe. He is honest with Gortash in the way he has never been honest with anyone, not even Jaheira. He tells the man all of his fears and, unlike his family, Gortash acknowledges what his nature indeed is a problem what needs to be dealt with, and it will keep being one for as long as Bhaal exists. Breaking yourself into pieces by trying to change your nature will do no good, but does Levi know what will? Dealing with Bhaal once and for all. Even gods can be defeated.

After that Gortash has Levi in his pocket. Because he saw him when everyone else only agreed to see parts of him and denied the ugly parts. Gortash saw the monster Levi felt to be and called him beautiful.

[sixeyesonathiel]

satoru is absolutely the type to get horny during aftercare.

like, violently.

and he knows how much he just wrecked you. how he folded you into the mattress like he owned it, like he had a point to prove and your body was the only canvas that mattered. the room still hums with heat, shadows curling along the soft sheen of sweat on your skin. your chest heaves as you try to remember how to breathe, legs limp and slightly parted, the plush of your lower lip caught between your teeth as your lashes flutter with exhaustion. your fingers twitch, still faintly curled into the sheets, and your skin is glowing—flushed and warm, painted in shades of him.

and satoru—your menace of a husband, long limbs sprawled like he belongs there, sprawled across your body—has the nerve to look sweet. his lashes fan out over flushed cheeks, the silver-white strands of his hair plastered messily to his temple, glinting faintly in the ambient lamplight. those eyes, sharp and crystal-cut, bright as glacier melt under sunlight, roam your body with open worship. he’s crouched between your thighs now, running a warm cloth over your skin in gentle, loving strokes, trailing kisses like apologies along the inside of your thigh, your hipbone, your knee.

“my pretty girl did so good,” he murmurs, voice thick with affection and that undercurrent of reverence that always makes your chest ache.

he hums while he works. fucking hums. like this isn’t the fifth time he’s split you open tonight.

his neck glistens with sweat, the slope of it flushed, veins subtly visible beneath the surface. the scent of his cologne—the one you picked, subtle and fresh with a little citrus and something smoky—still clings to him beneath the musk of skin and sex and something uniquely his. and that alone would be enough to leave you dizzy. but then—then—you feel it.

his cock, twitching against your thigh. heavy, hot, no longer just interested—eager. you don’t even need to look to know his brows are twitching in that self-satisfied way, that his mouth is curved up in a smile just shy of smug.

“…satoru.”

he blinks at you. innocent. as if he isn’t rock hard again less than ten minutes after he nearly made you sob. he presses a kiss just above your mound, lips dragging slowly.

“yeah?”

his hands are slow as they slide over your hips. one squeezes, grounding. the other strokes the soft inside of your thigh, thumbs sweeping in soothing circles that border on teasing. you see the way his eyes flick up—watching for every twitch in your face, every breath you forget to take, the way your jaw tenses then slackens when he brushes over a particularly sensitive spot.

“you feeling okay, sweetheart?” he asks, almost too gently.

you squint at him. that tone always spells trouble.

he tucks the sheets around you like he’s being helpful. like he’s not also letting his fingers slip under your waistband. “nothing else you need?”

your jaw drops slightly. then you squeak when his mouth descends to your breast, tongue dragging over your nipple with slow, devoted strokes, the kind that make your spine arch despite yourself, your hand flying up to thread through his messy hair.

“satoru,” you say, warning sharp—but shaky.

“‘m trying to behave,” he mumbles into your chest, clearly lying. his fingers dip lower, parting you with an ease born of how well he knows you. your hips jerk when his thumb finds your clit, lazy, slow circles that make your lashes flutter and your thighs twitch. “but baby, you’re just so soft. so warm. i need to be inside you again.”

he rolls his hips against your thigh and the weight of him—all of him—presses into you like a brand. he lifts his head to look at you, pouty and flushed and ridiculously pretty, his wild hair sticking out in tufts, strands fanned out across his forehead. “just a little? i’ll go slow.”

you try to glare. you really do. but your mouth betrays you with the tiniest whimper, your thighs parting without conscious thought.

his grin is instant. too bright. too boyish. he’s already shifting closer, one big hand hooking behind your knee to open you wider. his other hand cradles your face like you’re something holy, while he leans down to kiss your jaw, your temple, nose brushing against yours.

“you still smell like me,” he murmurs, voice cracking. “d’you have any idea what that does to me?”

and instead of pushing in, he teases—rubs the swollen tip of his cock along your folds, slow and languid. back and forth. not enough. never enough. his hand cups your breast again, thumb flicking your nipple in rhythm with his motions below, his mouth grazing the shell of your ear. you shiver, thighs instinctively twitching.

“look at you. god, i don’t even deserve you. but i’m gonna make you feel good again. promise.”

you turn your head away, whimper caught in your throat, and that’s when he shifts—pressing a kiss to your nape, brushing your hair aside like it’s a veil. he rests his forehead there, warm and damp and trembling, breath shuddering as his hand tilts your hips upward.

he doesn’t warn you. doesn’t count. he knows better. he waits until your breath catches—until your nails dig into his arm just slightly—and that’s when he presses in.

slow. stretching. the full length of him inching deeper and deeper until his pelvis meets yours.

he shudders, nose buried in your hair. kisses the nape of your neck once. twice.

then he starts to move.

not frantic. not harsh. worshipful. slow, grinding rolls of his hips that knock the air from your lungs. every thrust has intention, angled to press deep, to feel every inch of you squeezing around him again. your body trembles with overstimulation, jaw slack, breath catching every time he nudges against the spot that makes your toes curl.

he whispers your name like a hymn, his thumb slipping back between your legs to circle your clit again. slow. patient. like he’s building you up on purpose.

“can’t stop,” he breathes. “can’t help it. you’re perfect. mine.”

and every time you start to plead—every time your walls flutter around him like it’s the end—he whispers, “just one more.”

he lies. over and over again. but god, you let him.

because he doesn’t slow. doesn’t stop. not when your legs tremble. not when your fingers claw at the sheets. not when your voice is hoarse from moaning. he just keeps going. another round. and another. and another. until your body forgets what empty feels like.

until you’re soaked and aching and delirious, and he’s still above you, kissing your damp cheeks, murmuring against your skin.

“so good. you’re so good. just one more, baby.”

his thrusts stay slow, but there’s something ravenous behind them now. he’s desperate. trembling. voice cracking with every word he mutters into your neck. his hands are everywhere—your waist, your chest, your jaw. his mouth worships every inch of skin he can reach.

and when you break again, voice barely a whisper of his name, he spills with you—hips stuttering, arms locked around you, face buried in your neck as he breathes you in.

he doesn’t pull out. doesn’t move. he just stays there, pressed deep, body curved over yours like a shield.

“just one more,” he whispers again, breathless.

(you both know better.)

[wainawtmai]

thinking of satoru dating mean!reader who absolutely despises any sort of pda. All of his students wonder how he’d even managed to woo you when you dodged his kisses, cringed at his excessive compliments, and shooed him away every time he tried to hug you like the touch-obsessed bug he was. It was a wonder that you guys were even together.

…well, it was kind of hard to brush him off when he was balls deep inside you.

“fuuuck, you’re taking me so well, baby.” satoru moans, that stupidly pretty grin on his lips as he watches your pussy absolutely gobble up the length of his cock. You tremble from the feeling, struggling to bite back your moans as his thick dick thrusts up into you. You hate the way the sound of his voice makes your body buzz with heat, a mix of embarrassment and lust that you both hate and love.

“so wet and ready for me all the time, aren’t you?” you know part of him does it to get a rise out of you, the sadistic little shit liked watching you squirm and sputter, all flustered at the sound of his voice.

and as per usual, you told yourself you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, “S-Shut up.” you mean for it to come off as a warning but it sounds more like a pitiful whine. You can’t help it with the way he thrusts up into you, mouthing sloppy kisses into your skin in between his sinful words.

“you know you love me,” he sings into your ear, “You loveee the way my cock fills you up, don’t deny it, baby.” as if to further emphasize his point he brings his hands to the meat of your ass, prying you further open and drilling into you, fucking into that spot that drove you insane. You couldn’t even try to hide your disgusting moans and whimpers, nails digging into the skin of his arms as you tried and failed to fight the pleasure.

“what did I say,” he sing-songs, bringing a hand to your clit and rubbing at it with quick circles, “I’ve turned you into such a pretty mess.” of course he still has that Cheshire-sized grin on his face, his crystal eyes mesmerized by the sight of your grinding hips and the slickness you leave along his cock with each thrust he makes into your trembling pussy. Listening to the desperate little sounds you swore you didn’t make when he pressed a finger to your clit. Rendered absolutely useless.

He loved seeing you like this. “so pretty.” satoru moans, his voice slightly slurring with pleasure, “so—fuck—g-gorgeous all fucked out for me.”

you mustered up what was left of your strength to slap a hand over his lips, silencing him as you shuddered from your orgasm. “shut up, s-satoru.”

But you could see that look in his eyes: framed by those annoyingly pretty white lashes, blue and mischievous—or at least more so than usual. He brought his own hand to your weakening one, pulling your fingers into his mouth and sucking on them with a loud whorish moan, all the while still pounding into you.

“Mngh—fuck you, satoru.” You garble, whimpering with overstimulation despite still grinding down against his cock in time with his thrusts, you hated how much he knew you loved being overstimulated, the freaky little fuck.

He only hummed in response, too occupied with your fingers to respond, practically deep-throating them. You could feel his chest rumble with amused laughter as he watched you fall apart once again, your skin tingling with the shock of your second orgasm. He followed you soon after, aquamarine eyes lidding as he practically gagged on your fingers, emptying himself into you with a long, drawn out moan.

You tiredly pull your fingers out of his mouth, slightly missing the warmth, and practically fell on top of him. But before your eyes could flutter closed, you felt Satoru throb, your cheeks heating as you remember the nasty fucker also had a thing for overstimulation.

You swear as his thrusts continue, fucking his milky cum dripping between your thighs back into you. And despite how much you tell yourself his words were annoying, his murmurs of imagining your fingers as your clit as he sucked at them, drove you to the edge all over again.

Maybe you didn’t hate it.

[heavenlybodies333]

Farmboy Fuck Session -C.K

Synopsis: Clark’s back in Smallville helping Ma on the farm. You visit him midday, and he’s shirtless, sweaty, and pissed you wore that little sundress. He bends you over the tractor and fucks you until your knees give out. “You wore this tiny thing on my family’s land? Oh, you’re getting bred.”

cw: Explicit smut. Unprotected sex. Semi-public sex (in barn). Breeding kink. Dom!Clark Kent. Rough sex. Possessive behavior. Spanking. Light degradation. Dirty talk. Creampie. Manhandling. Reader wears a short sundress with no bra/panties. Rustic setting (tractor sex). Mild dumbification.

The sun was high and brutal over the Kent farm, and Clark was glistening—shirtless, forearms flexed, hay sticking to his skin, and sweat dripping down the line of his spine as he hoisted another heavy crate off the back of the truck.

You were not supposed to be staring. But there you were, leaning against the fence post in a tiny yellow sundress with absolutely no business being that short, pretending you didn’t wear it on purpose.

“You lost?” Clark called across the field, teasing, squinting against the sun. “This ain’t the city, sweetheart.”

You grinned and waved. “Thought I’d stop by. See how the world's strongest farmhand was holding up.”

“Strongest?” he laughed, brushing hay off his shoulder. “You’re lucky Ma’s not here. She’d put you to work just for saying that.”

“Please.” You pushed off the post and started walking toward him. “Like she’d put this in a field.” You twirled once, the hem of your dress fluttering dangerously high.

Clark’s smile faltered. “You wore that here?”

“Mmhmm.” You batted your lashes. “Too much?”

“On my family’s land?” he snapped, dropping the crate with a heavy thud. “What, you trying to kill me?”

You blinked innocently. “You don’t like it?”

“I love it,” he growled. “That’s the goddamn problem.” The next thing you knew, Clark was on you—backing you into the barn, lips already claiming yours, hands grabbing at your waist. your dress was already hiked up around your thighs.

“C-Clark—someone might see—”

“Let ‘em,” he said, voice rough. “You walk around like this, you clearly want the attention.” You squeaked as he spun you around, shoving you against the side of the rusted tractor with a grunt.

“I wore it for you, dumbass.”

“And now you’re gonna pay for it.”

You let out a gasped laugh. “What, you gonna plow me like a field, farmboy?”

He froze. Looked at you. “Did you just make a tractor pun?” 

“I—maybe.”

Clark let out a shocked laugh that quickly turned into a groan. “You are so lucky I’m in love with you.”

“You haven’t fucked me yet,” you teased, wiggling your ass against his jeans. “Might change your mind.” In one smooth motion, he yanked your panties down to your knees and pushed your dress higher. You braced yourself on the warm metal of the tractor hood, breath catching as you heard him unzip his fly.

“You wore this slutty little thing just to rile me up,” he muttered, dragging the head of his cock through your folds. “Didn’t even wear a bra, baby?”

“Too hot,” you panted. “Too lazy. Also… yeah, I wanted to rile you up.”

He groaned as his cock slipped between your dripping folds before thrusting into you hard. You cried out, clutching the tractor for dear life, already overwhelmed by the stretch of him, the sound of his hips smacking into your ass.

Clark was not gentle. Not today. He fucked you with full intent—deep, brutal, claiming every inch like the gentleman part of him had clocked out. All you could hear was the rustling of hay, the squeak of metal, and Clark’s filthy growl in your ear.

“Out here looking like a wet dream,” he muttered. “On my turf. You’re lucky I don’t tie you to this thing and fuck you ‘til you pass out.”

“Why don’t you?” you whined. “Scared I can’t take it?”

Clark yanked you up by the back of your dress, holding you flush to his chest now while he kept fucking up into you from behind.

“You’re gonna take every fucking drop, baby.” You were a mess—sweaty, moaning, drooling against his forearm as he stuffed you full. You felt him everywhere. His cock bullying your walls, his voice low and possessive in your ear, his hands gripping your hips like handles.

“I can feel you clenching,” he grunted. “You wanna cum, don’t you?”

“Please—”

“You gonna make a mess on this tractor? On my family’s goddamn John Deere?”

“Fuck—yes—” Your orgasm hit like a hay bale to the chest—sudden, breath-stealing, legs trembling as you cried out his name. Clark didn’t stop. Not until he chased his own release, fucking you straight through the aftershocks until he groaned into your neck and emptied himself deep inside you, hips twitching, breath ragged.

You both stayed there for a moment, panting, sweat-slicked, draped over the side of the tractor like two horny teenagers who just defiled a family heirloom.

“Well,” you mumbled finally. “I guess that’s one way to fertilize the field.”

Clark groaned. “I swear to god—”

“What?” You giggled. “You bred me, I’m just honoring the theme.”

He pulled out with a hiss and slapped your ass. “You’re not allowed to make puns after sex. That’s the rule.”

“You never said that!”

“I didn’t think I had to.”

You turned, gave him a smirk, and cupped his face, peppering kisses along his jaw. “Love you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, cheeks pink. “Love you too.”He smirked. “You’re lucky Ma’s at the farmer’s market.”

“Why?” you asked sweetly. “Would she be mad you turned me into a scarecrow decoration?”

Clark grinned wickedly and swatted your ass again, harder this time. “Keep flapping your mouth, baby. See what happens.”

“Maybe I want another round.”

He stilled. “Here?”

“Mmhm.” You grinned up at him. “I want it on the hay bale this time. Like a proper barn whore.”

His eyes practically rolled back in his head. “You’re gonna fucking kill me.” But you were already hopping up, dress still rucked up around your hips, not bothering to put your panties back on. You flounced over to the stacked hay like you hadn’t just gotten absolutely railed within an inch of your life.

Clark followed like a man possessed—shirt still off, cock hardening again, cheeks flushed and curls wild. “You’re insatiable,” he muttered.

“And you love it,” you said, sprawled back on the hay like some kind of slutty southern pin-up. “Come on, farmboy. Gimme another round. Don’t you wanna knock me up in every corner of this barn?”

Clark groaned—full-bodied and helpless. “I’m gonna marry you.”

“Yeah?” You spread your legs and beckoned him forward. “Gotta make an honest woman outta me after this filthy display?”

“Oh, there’s nothing honest about you,” he growled, climbing on top of you. “But you’re mine.” And when he took you again, it was with the reckless need of a man drunk on sunshine and sin—fucking you open on the hay until you were hoarse from screaming his name. Turns out farm boys got stamina. 

a/n: he’s so boyfriend husband daddy

[rindreamery]

out of breath, got me going like...

some of the attractive things that the blue lock men do. featuring: itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro, michael kaiser, oliver aiku, yukimiya kenyu ─ content: fluff, suggestive

note. yukki debut on my acc ??? do we fw the casual, less poetic writing cuz there was really no way to make this poetic 👩‍🦯 just astronomically down bad writing all around

itoshi rin sends you gym pics without you having to ask.

it initially took a lot of convincing, at first, to get rin to send you a picture. in his eyes, it was embarrassing— the idea of pulling his phone out mid-workout, taking a picture, sending it to you, and then going back to whatever he was doing. his mind would drift off to the weird stares he would probably get from others, and the fact that he also wasn’t exactly known for knowing how to pose to begin with. as much as he loved making you happy, there were just some things he was not willing to do.

it took a lot of begging, and for the first few months, the answer was always, “no.”

the first picture came unexpectedly. your phone was thrown off to the side of the bed, not really anticipating any texts from rin for the next hour or so, given the fact that he was at the gym. so you were surprised when you heard a familiar tune come from your phone— one specifically assigned to his contact. you had no idea why he would be texting you. 

you’re absolutely floored at what you see; jaw left hanging and eyes practically bulging out of their sockets, almost dropping the phone.

it's a gym picture. he's doing a normal pose, nothing too special. he’s standing in front of the mirror, one hand shoved into the pocket of his shorts, and the other holding onto his phone. his face was partly covered by his phone, but you could see the blush spread across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. but it wasn’t that that got your attention— no, it was something entirely different.

he was wearing a sleeveless compression shirt, giving you a full view of his arms. they were glistening in sweat and perfectly toned. the arm that was propping his phone up was slightly flexed, from the position it was in, adding to the bulk and definition in his biceps. and you could see the veins traveling up the arm of his hand, the one that was shoved into his pocket, crawling up from the back of his hand to his forearm. the bright overhead lighting, with a combination of the dim background lighting, served to emphasize every line and crevice of his exposed skin. 

“this what you wanted?” came a message right after, “i know you’re reading this right now, respond.” you felt weak. he definitely researched how to do this.

words couldn't describe how you felt. so, your immediate response was to send him a flurry of incoherent texts; a mixture of randomly pressed keys and crying emojis. but that’s what feeds his ego— your reactions are what makes smile smugly to himself, covering his lips with his hands as he reads your texts over. he starts to send you gym pictures more consistently after that, patiently waiting for your response after each one. at this point, it’s become a part of his gym routine.

itoshi sae drapes his arm over the back of your seat while reversing.

driving with sae was a true test of control— specifically, yours. it had become increasingly hard to focus whenever he was driving, with every little motion of his body seeming to pull your attention away from the road. he was just so distracting, to the point that you had started offering to drive instead. yet to no avail, because he always insisted on being the driver, furthering your silent suffering in the passenger's seat. but, there was nothing more testing than whenever he was reversing the car.

it’s an internal battle; it takes everything in you not to ogle him so openly. and somehow, you’re losing a battle to yourself.

it’s as if your eyes instantly become magnetized to sae— the way he moves when he rests his arm so casually, yet so securely, on the back of your headrest’s frame. and it doesn’t help that this position gives such a perfect view of him. the way the muscles in his arm ripple and flex ever so slightly, but visibly, under his loose dress shirt. the way his folded sleeves ride up every time, and the exposed part of his forearm constantly taunts you to take a peek. you hate that you suddenly become hyperaware of everything he does in that moment. especially his fingers, and the way they tickle the back of your neck, almost touching you but not quite there.

you have to hold back the subtle shudder that sweeps over your body.

it feels like he’s taking up so much space, demanding you to notice him. the way the scent of his cologne wafts over to you, the bergamot and sandalwood notes of it slowly overwhelming your senses. the faint shift in his posture, emphasizing the subtle stretch of his neck, giving you a view of his collarbones and necklace. and the way his lips curve ever so slightly when he speaks, his voice in a low tone, with his eyes flitting over to you momentarily before they’re back on the road.

it has to be intentional, he has to be aware of what he’s doing. “you’re doing this on purpose,” you mutter under your breath, willing yourself to turn away and look out the window.

“doing what on purpose?” he asks, but the mirth in his tone is evident— you can practically hear the tiny smirk that’s splayed on his lips. you’ve concluded that he’s sick in the head, that he’s playing with you right in your face. “i’m just making sure we don’t get into a crash, you baby.” and you willingly fall for it, every time.

nagi seishiro becomes clingy when it's just the two of you.

laying in your lap, while you’re absorbed in your own hobby, is one of nagi’s favorite pastimes. it keeps him close to you, but allows you both to do your own thing. sometimes, he’d take a nap while you work, one hand loosely holding onto yours in his sleep. other times, he’d play video games on his phone, making sure his volume is turned all the way down to not distract you. but most of the time, he likes to just lay there and admire you, with a barely noticeable smile on his lips.

but he becomes somewhat miffed whenever your hair falls in front of your face, blocking his (initially) flawless view of you. and it annoys him more whenever you don’t push it out of the way.

so, he decided to take it upon himself to move it for you, arm lazily stretched up to reach for you. you barely noticed it at first, so absorbed in the book that you were reading. the sensation of his fingers ghosting over your cheeks doesn’t register in your mind, and his touch is barely there. and then you feel it. his fingers are in your hair, gathering the strands on the back of his hand before he’s brushing it out of the way. it’s so gentle, the way he locks your hair behind your ear, and the way his hand lingers a little longer on your skin after. his fingers then travel from your ear to your jawline, finger lightly tracing the side of your jaw, and it makes you curl in on yourself at the feeling. (it tickles, but also oddly comforting.) and then, he’s pulling his arm back down to reach for your wrist instead, fingers wrapping around it.

your skin is tingling, and the surface of your skin feels warm— taken aback by the sudden act of affection. you glance down at him with a curious look, only to see that he’s already staring attentively at you, and you feel his hold on you tighten. “you know,” you begin, “you could’ve just asked me to do it for you.”

"you always get so lost in whatever you're doing," he mumbles slowly, his voice sounding almost whiney at the fact. his hand, the one firmly holding onto your wrist, is traveling up until it’s wiggling the book out of your hand. (you don’t miss the small furrow of his brows when you jokingly grip onto the book, before giving in and letting it fall to the side.) he takes this chance to intertwine your fingers, his larger hands completely enveloping yours. "i don't mind it, but i hate when i can’t see you."

michael kaiser holds intense eye contact with you when you're talking.

at times, you found it hard to talk to kaiser. he's constantly exuding such an intense confidence, one that's often present in his gaze, that you could never truly hold face-to-face conversations with him. you're always shying away from it, crumbling under the intensity, and he finds twisted pleasure in how flustered it makes you. the way the words always die on the tip of your tongue whenever your eyes meet, when you see that his focus is locked on you

it makes you look away, because it's the only thing you can do to escape it. but kaiser doesn't like it when you're looking away from him— he wants your attention. he wants to see you when you talk excitedly about your day.

he’ll get that attention however way he can. from where you're seated on the couch gives him quick access to you. you can feel his tattooed hand crawling up the skin of your thighs, sliding up slowly, leaving a trail of goosebumps as he goes. he stops short of the hem of your shorts, planting his hand firmly on the spot. he gives it a firm squeeze, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs— trying to get you to cave into him. “why won’t you look at me when you talk?” he’s leaning into you, invading your personal space despite the spacious couch. you can feel his breath on the shell of your ear with each word, “mein liebling, i want to see you when you talk. look at me.”

“you can listen to me talk without needing me to look at you,” you swallow, and his grip tightens ever so slightly at your words.

you're shifting awkwardly, trying to ignore the way your heart beats a little faster at the proximity, at the fact that his voice has started to sound almost pleading. almost— because he would never admit to something as desperate as pleading. it’s hard to focus when he’s this close, when he’s right there. his fingers remain on your thigh, tracing deliberate lines over your skin, and despite the way you're trying to resist, you can feel your resolve crumbling.

it’s not every day that you see someone like kaiser be on the precipice of begging for your attention. 

“i promise, i’ll stop teasing you. look—” his other hand is hooking under your chin, coaxing you to look at him. and you do— his eyes, once intense and teasing, now holds a softer and almost guilty looking gaze. “keep talking, yeah?”

oliver aiku likes to loosen his necktie with one hand after a formal event.

neckties are the worst, an opinion oliver will stand by ‘til the end of time. he absolutely despises having to put one on for formal events, and he’ll do his best to charm his way out of having to wear one. it never works, so the second he puts it on, he’s already thinking of the moment he gets to pull it off of himself. he doesn’t think much of it when he does it— one finger looping in the space between his neck and necktie, and he’s pulling at it without care.

but recently, he’s started to notice how intently you’d been staring each time he did it.

oliver’s got a keen-eye; not even the smallest thing can get past him. he drinks in the sight of you when he does it, eyes fixed on you, and taking joy in the fact that you don’t even seem to notice. you’re too busy being fixated on his hand, and the way the vein on his hand becomes prominent when he flexes it to pull, or the way his fingers seem to play around with the fabric. your eyes are so sharp, but somehow so unfocused, all at the same time. he loves how it gets you worked up.

it’s entertaining, so he takes it up a notch.

he drags his fingers, slowly, down to the first button of his shirt. and then he’s unbuttoning it with one hand, putting in extra effort in exposing his collarbones. he can’t fight the grin that makes its way to his lips, at your reaction— your eyes are widening, and he can visibly see you gulp at the sight. and then your eyes are shooting up to meet his, and his grin becomes impossibly wider.

“like what you see?” the teasing and flirtatious lilt in his voice is unmistakable, and you can’t help but draw your eyes back down to where his hand is twirling the tie around his fingers. he makes you tick, but he’s also so attractive, and you hate that he can easily make you blush with his words.

“you wish.” you choose to look away with a scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “it’s gonna take more than that.” that makes him oddly excited, brows raising in mild surprise, and you honestly should’ve known better. it’s like you’re offering up a new challenge to him, and he gladly accepts.

oliver still hates neckties; that’s an opinion that will never change. he still looks forward to the second he gets to pull it off. except now, he gets to play a little game with you while he does it.

yukimiya kenyu keeps a hand on your back at all times, in public.

it’s a habit formed purely from the fact that the streets of shibuya have the tendency to become really crowded, and yukimiya hates it when you get separated from him in such a crowd. he likes it when you’re right by his side— he can keep a close eye on you at all times and protect you from getting pushed around. and originally, it started off with holding your hands. it was fine during the colder seasons, providing the two of you with extra warmth. but you had both quickly realized that it could become quite uncomfortable during summer, making your hands all sweaty and sticky.

so he experimented. he let his arm drop from your shoulders to the small of your back, his palm hovering over your skin, initially unsure of how you would react.

“is this okay?” he would lean down to whisper in your ear, and his voice was so gentle and so concerned about you. even when he was the one getting shoved around by the crowd, with people constantly running into the sides of his shoulders, he was still only thinking about you. you and your comfort. “tell me if this is uncomfortable, and i’ll figure something else out. okay?”

it made you shiver— you felt a heat crawl up your spine, and your stomach was immediately fluttering with butterflies.

you nod, “no, this is okay.” more than okay, actually, but you keep that to yourself. “thank you for asking.” he flashes you one of his pretty smiles, and he leans up to look straight ahead in the crowd again. but this time, his touch is more present— his palm is now firmly planted onto your skin, and he’s actively weaving you through the crowded streets.

whenever someone would get too close to you, or if he anticipates that someone is about to crash into you, his hand would travel to the side of your waist. and yukimiya grips on it, pulling your body flush against his side, effectively pulling you out of the way. “sorry,” he’ll whisper an apology, not having intended to hold you so tightly. his hands will go right back to where they initially were, not without trailing his fingers on the way back, leaving sparks tingling across your skin where he touched. “did i hurt you?”

“no, i’m fine,” you can keep your hand there, you almost tell him. it drives you insane that everything he does is unintentional— but maybe, one day, you'll be able to tell him exactly what you’re thinking.

© rindreamery, 2024

tags. @choccorin @mininji

[quimichi]

↳ ❝ [THINGS THEY SAY DURING 'IT'] ¡! ❞ @ - Part 1.

TW: MDNI - NSFW, sexual themes obviously lol

SUMMARY: Title :)

CHARACTERS: Aether Albedo Al-Haitham Ayato Baizhu Capitano Childe Cyno Dainsleif Diluc Dottore Freminet & Gorou x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 1.044

A/N: idk just a random new idea, watch me get more and more unserious with every character you pass

Aether

❝Agh-...shit...❞ - he holds back his sounds as he moans and curses into his hand

❝ Mh-no, like that, yeah...move like that...good❞ - he bites his lip as his lust drowned eyes stare up at you, holding your thighs tight for stability

❝Slower?...okay❞ - speeds up with a slight laugh, stopping seconds later to slow down again

Albedo

❝This spot? Yeah?...knew it...❞ - it's rare for you to see him smug, but that smirk he will give you when he finds out his guess was right is something else

❝Hold still for me...yes?❞ - he pushes your thighs apart, settling down comfortably between them as he dives in

❝Some interesting sounds you make...❞ - and he will carve them into his mind. When you're away he will remember them, will miss them, miss you and everything about you

Al-Haitham

❝Keep quite...❞ - there's no harshness in his words, just slight desperation as he breaths those words in your ear as he fucks you on the couch in his shared house with Kaveh, while he is asleep in his room

❝Tell me what you want...come on, you can do it. Speak up.❞ - sometimes the way he talks to you is infuriating, like he's talking to a stupid child. It not only embarrasses you when he speaks so teasingly, it makes you angry, frustrated, and maybe a bit turned on

❝If you can't watch your hands i won't watch my teeth.❞ - you tugged on his precious hair, so he can't help but tease you even more as he eats you out

Ayato

❝Mmm...yeah...❞ - he's rather quite, Ayato hums more, right in your ear with such a disgusting smirk because he knows any sound he does will drive you wild

❝Don't overestimate yourself, hm?❞ - he always says the same as you sink down on him. He knows exactly that his tip just puts too much pressure on your cervix. He might tease you, but he doesn't want to hurt you

❝I got you...don't worry, i got you...❞ - while you come down from your high...did he came himself? No, but it's okay. You're his number 1 priority

Baizhu

❝So...warm...❞ - no matter how many times you two have sex, your warmth will always overwhelm him

❝Shh...you don't know who might come in.❞ - he doesn't take many risks but god he can't hold himself back when you help him out in Bubu Pharmacy

❝I'll take care of it...don't worry.❞ - look, he's a doctor, a people pleaser and helper, ofc he only takes care of you and not of himself

Capitano

❝Take it slow, theres no rush.❞ - says the big guy with the prettiest cock and he doesn't even know it

❝Do you need a break? No?...heh...alright then...❞ - proceeds to rearrange your guts

❝What did i tell you?❞ - he means please, tell him please, ask nicely with manners like he taught you

Childe

❝Naww, someones needy huh? It went riiight in, with no problem.❞ - I bet you can practically hear and see the smug look on this abominations face

❝Look baby i don't wanna hurt you, yeah? You need to tell me when i go too hard.❞ - just a little nice check in for him. He wants to make sure you know you are always free to tell him off, he doesn't want to force himself on and in you

❝Good? Hah-ah-...yeah...thought so...❞ - sometimes the smugness will flatter, especially once he's close...you don't know who enjoys it more, him or you

Cyno

❝You hear that?...Thats you...❞ - he pumps his fingers in and out of you, slow and fast, changing pace. But no matter how fast or slow, he absolutely loves when you're as wet as you can get

❝Are you certain that you really want th-! Ouch why'd you slap me-❞ - he always asks the same, over and over again, it's nice that he keeps asking for your consent but at this point it annoys you like...bro you already been between my legs for like 30mins I had enough time thinking about it

❝Where?...ah-quick tell me-❞ - whenever he doesn't wear a condom and realistically...I don't think condoms exist in genshin lol

Dainsleif

❝So desperate...it's almost cute.❞ - he knows it's basically a long distance relationship considering he's almost never there. That's what makes it even "better" for him when you two see each other. He can't help but tease

❝Calm down, we're not in a rush.❞ - basically the first, same vibe, call me lazy lol

❝Still...gh-taking it so well...❞ - uhhh yeah we have a theme here

Diluc

❝You look cold...i could warm you up...❞ - sometimes him being smooth works, sometimes not, and sometimes he just sounds like a cheaper version of himself (Batman)...or sometimes he does what Kaeya says-

❝Where's the 'please'?❞ - he's so well mannered it's scary, so he expects the same for you too. Say please and thank you

❝Maybe if you would've behaved like I told you to, we wouldn't be here right now.❞ - he says it so calm as he fucks you against the cold stone wall behind Angels share in the middle of the night where any drunken idiot could see...or the patrols...that are very much sober (hopefully???)

Dottore

❝Hm? This? Oh, thats just for documentation.❞ - he records your voice...he literally studies your reactions and change in voice.

❝I won't tell you again, hold still.❞ - he isn't scared of tying you up at all so either hold still or be held still

❝...hm...you're too quite...❞ - he literally wants the Tsaritsa to hear like???

Freminet

❝Ngh-h-hey-calm down or else-!❞ - WE LOBE SUB BOYS, I WANNA HEAR YOU SCREAM, WE LOVE SUB BOYS

❝This is...new...yeah...❞ - he's a explorer but he also wants to be explored sksksksksk

❝So-warm-!❞ - uhm...self explanatory. When he enters you it's warm lol

Gorou

❝Wdym I'm in heat AGAIN?!❞ - he can't help but not be horny like?? Have you seen yourself??

❝Agh-...i tried to br gentle but you just-❞ - no self control, smh

❝Right there? See...told you i won't forget.❞ - he's eating you out, and still remembers your most sensitive spots like it's craved in his mind...because it is

[maskedbyghost]

more possessive!reader and our man Simon? hell yes!

You leave your stuff at his place like it’s your second apartment. Hair ties on his nightstand, your clothes in his laundry. That one lip balm he pretends not to use but absolutely does. He once found your earring on his pillow and sat there staring at it for ten minutes straight.

You correct girls when they flirt with him. Not rudely. Just with some subtle things. “He doesn’t like gin, actually,” with a little smile. “Simon’s more of a bourbon guy.” Meanwhile, Simon’s standing behind you, blinking like a confused dog. He didn’t even know he was a bourbon guy until you said so.

He starts dressing the way you like without realizing it. You complimented his black joggers once? Suddenly, they’re in heavy rotation. Mention his cologne smells good? He’s wearing it to the grocery store. You say, “I like when you leave your hair messy like that,” and now he’s suspiciously tousled 24/7.

You use your phone like a weapon. Screenshotting girls who like his pics. “This one again?” with a raised eyebrow. Sending him selfies when he’s out late with a little “missing you” just to make sure he’s thinking about you.

Simon tries to stay cool, tries to act unbothered. But then you say something like, “I don’t like when other girls touch you,” and he’s short-circuiting. Sitting there all red-eared and tense like his body’s trying to pretend it’s not turning into goo.

You say “mine” a lot. Half-joking. Especially when someone flirts with him in front of you. You’ll just wrap your arms around his waist, smile up at him, and go, “God, you’re so mine,” like it’s nothing, and he eats it up.

He tries to “set boundaries” exactly one time. It lasts approximately three days before you show up looking hot, acting normal, and sleeping in his bed like nothing ever changed. He doesn’t bring it up again.

He gets real quiet sometimes. He just looks at you like he’s still trying to figure out how the hell he got here, with you wrapped around him, calling him “baby” like it’s always been his name. And then he just mutters, “How the fuck did I ever think we were just friends?”

He calls you bossy. You take it as a compliment. And let’s be honest, so does he. You tell him where to sit, when to eat, what show to watch—and the worst part? He likes it. It’s the only time his brain shuts off. Just nods and goes, “Yes, love,” like you didn’t just grab him by the collar and steer him like a Roomba.

You never pretend to be casual about him. You look at him like he belongs to you. Like the very idea of someone else getting his attention is personally offensive. He’ll be tying his boots, not even thinking about anything, and you’ll mutter, “I hope no one tries to flirt with you today. I don’t feel like playing nice.”

You get real smug when he shuts down other women. Like, you knew he would, but it still hits different hearing him say “nah, I’ve got someone” without hesitation. You’ll just smile to yourself and say, “Good boy,” when he gets home—and he’ll pretend to roll his eyes while trying not to get hard.

You don’t get jealous. You get territorial. There's a difference. Jealousy is insecure. Territorial is knowing you’ve already won and still refusing to let anyone look at your prize without remembering whose he is.

And he loves it. Loves the way you don’t play games. Loves that you’re all in. Loves that being with you feels like being chosen every day.

PART 3

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@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6

[jaylaxies]

A REUNION TO REMEMBER

PAIRING: sunghoon x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, unprotected sex, fingering, cunnilingus, public sex, car sex, shower sex, squirting, lots of kissing, slight jealousy, slight degradation (slut) and praising, mentions of drinking, mentions of jay and karina (aespa), and other idols, mentions of nicknames (baby, princess, kitten), more to be added.

WORD COUNT: 15.3k words.

SYNOPSIS: You last met Park Sunghoon when you were attending high school, more precisely, when he had gained enough courage to ask you out, not knowing that the most popular girl of the school was already taken by the senior who was equally as popular. Four years later, your batch decided to hold a reunion back in your town, where you meet Sunghoon again. Only, the problem is that he's hotter than ever and you can't, for the life of you, keep your eyes off him.

PLAYLIST: here!

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni.

A/N: hihi, angels! i’m done revamping the hoon fic, i hope y’all enjoy reading it <33 all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <33

“There’s absolutely no fucking way he didn’t know!” 

You exclaimed, frustration clear on your face, recalling how things went down back in tenth grade to prove your point. 

Karina only sighed on the other end of the call, “listen, babe, I love you but you have to take into account how oblivious the poor boy was back then! He studied and skated, that’s literally all he did, that was him,” she spoke, emphasizing on the but part.

You huffed, sitting down on the edge of your bed, nodding to yourself slowly as you let it sink that her point was actually a valid one for once. 

“It’s still awkward though,” you mumbled, playing with a loose thread of your sweater. 

“It’ll be fine, okay? It’s been four years, and it’s not like you have to talk to him.” Her words were true yet again, and this is why you loved her. 

Karina had been your best friend since you were in middle school, she’d always been honest and the social butterfly everyone loved, but at the same time, she was humble and kind, always taking care of the ones around her, not to mention how she was possibly the prettiest girl you’d ever met. 

You were relieved to know that she would be with you for the school reunion—an event which was planned thoroughly, it was a big deal. 

It wasn’t just a meet up, it was a three day trip back to your hometown, the whole itinerary was planned, as per the usual ritual:

The first day being the reunion dinner night—the most important one out of the three days, a day where everyone shows up clad in their best outfits, a day where they flaunt every bit of success and achievements they’ve accomplished. 

The second being the beach day, to make sure no one is left out on the fun factor, also 

The last being the night out at the newest club of your city, a night to let loose, especially when it concerns rekindling the old flames (happens more often than not).

The idea itself was thrilling, not to mention how desperately you needed this break, Karina was even quicker to express her excitement by booking two hotel rooms, non refundable at that, for you both as your parents now lived in Seoul, and not in your hometown. 

Another sigh left your mouth as you plopped down on your bed, staring at the ceiling while wondering why you even bothered to check the guest list, to check whether Park Sunghoon was invited or not. 

It was no surprise when you saw his name in the list, gulping as you recalled the embarrassing incident which took place between you both, the one in which you never got the opportunity to confront him, or explain yourself by any means. 

You closed your eyes, revisiting the ever so embarrassing memory. 

It was the last day of the tenth grade, your exams had just gotten over and the student crowd was elated, throwing notes everywhere to celebrate the fact that they were not chained to their textbooks anymore, not for a month at least; which caused you to scrunch your nose at the sight of paper wastage, not to mention, the meaningless litter all over. 

“Uh—Hey,” a sweet voice called your name at the exact second, succeeding in grabbing your attention. 

You recognized him as your classmate, Sunghoon, who was also a good friend of your own friend, Jay. 

“Hey! Hoon, right?” You smiled at him, a slight red colour spread on his cheeks at the sight of you. 

He nodded, also politely saying ‘hello’ to Karina, who was right next to you before his gaze fell to his fingers as he fiddled with them, his fang-like teeth biting down on his plush bottom lip with anxiety as he worked on mustering enough courage to look into your eyes, only to find your own ones staring at him with curiosity. 

“I just—I wanted to ask if you’d like to, you know, go out with me sometime?” He let out the question, unsure of what words he had used and cringing at how shaky his tone was. 

He had completely forgotten what he practiced in front of the mirror a thousand times, but he knows for sure that the result was not supposed to come out as horrendous as this one. 

Your eyes widened as you looked at Karina with pleading eyes, asking for help. It was no secret that you were one of the popular girls at your school; sweet, hardworking, and humble. 

Getting a confession such as this one was nothing new to you, declining politely always worked, however, that was when you were single and not in a relationship with the most popular guy in the school (as cliché as it was), who was also your senior. It was almost like a fanfiction with how the ace of the school, Lee Heeseung, had ended up falling for you. 

The news was quick to spread, fast enough for your group chat to go crazy, asking you questions so diabolical which almost made you throw your phone away with embarrassment. 

In the span of three days, the whole school was aware of the new ‘it couple’. Except for Sunghoon, that is.

“As, uh, friends?” You winced at how pathetic your question was, which certainly made things ten times more awkward than they were supposed to be.  

“N—no, as something more?” Sunghoon helpfully explained, looking everywhere but at your face now. 

“Sunghoon,” Karina spoke up, causing  you to release your breath, thankful that she was here to control the situation when you could say nothing and feel uncomfortable looking at his disappointed face.

“She’s taken, love! Sorry,” she informed him, his eyes widening and mouth agape. 

You wondered if he was genuinely clueless about this, he did look lost to you. 

You gasped, suddenly feeling an arm wrap around your waist, pulling you closer as you stared at Heeseung in surprise, who was already looking down at you with a smirk. 

“Hey, baby. I missed you,” he spoke up, kissing you right on the mouth, more exaggerated than usual. 

Sunghoon witnessed the whole scene, a frown settling on his face, embarrassment clear on his face which was now red and showed clear signs of sadness as he softly said, “e—excuse me,” leaving as soon the words left his mouth, shoulders slumped. 

You never met him again, only seeing him with Jay at times. 

He was quick to change his school soon after it, knowing that he’d be able to do so easily since the finals were over. 

You were going to meet him now. 

Your eyes snapped open at the thought of that, you just wished for the trip to be a pleasant one. Furthermore, from your side, you’d make sure to not be awkward around him, pretending as if the whole situation didn’t happen in the first place.

 If you’d even get to talk to him, that is. 

“Wow, you really are dumb,” Jake laughed uncontrollably once Jay finished telling him the story of none other than Park Sunghoon. 

“Shut up,” Hoon mumbled, annoyed that the topic which he had wanted so desperately to be buried in the corner of his heart forever was brought up, once again. 

“Wait, but if you knew about them dating then why didn’t you tell Hoon?” Jake pointed the question towards Jay. 

“Because he never told me he was going to confess in the first place!” Jay’s eyes widened almost comically as he exclaimed, “and it was exam time, finals at that, Sunghoon had sworn he wouldn’t use his phone till the exams ended, and you probably don’t have any clue as to how big of a nerd he was—” 

“Jay! Fucking stop this,” Hoon whined, covering his face with his palm as Jay took out his phone, scrolling to find a picture of Sunghoon. 

He looked a lot smaller than he is now, wearing a yellow, collared t-shirt and round specs, lips curved into a small smile as he looked into the camera. 

“Holy fuck! You could have been easily casted for the live action of Doraemon, as Nobita, of course.” Jake high-fived Jay after taking a look at the picture, the latter almost falling down with the laugh he had let out, the similarities were uncanny. 

“The fuck—Nobita? Oh god this is so fucking annoying, can you guys shut up now? I don’t even want to go and face her ever again,” he snapped, whining like a kid right after. 

He had been overthinking about everything that could happen once you meet him again, his brain running at the speed of light with the unless possibilities. 

Would you laugh in his face and remind him of how stupid he looked asking someone like you out?

Heck, would you even remember him? 

You honestly didn’t have any reason to.

Acting nonchalant didn’t help his case one bit, his self awareness higher than ever, especially when it concerned you. 

It mattered to him a lot more than he’d like to admit, your opinion mattered more than he’d like to admit, even after all this while. 

A four year gap should have been enough to let his embarrassment fade away, however, all his efforts went to vain once he got invited to the reunion.

“Listen, it’ll be okay. She probably doesn’t even remember you!” Jay tried to make him feel better. 

“That’s very consoling, that totally calms me down, thank you very much,” Hoon rolled his eyes, wondering if you’d forgotten him already. It wasn’t as if you both had been close, but you did see each around and during the classes. 

He can’t lie, the thought made him sad. 

“You definitely have a chance now though, if that makes you feel any better,” Jake let out slowly, noticing the glow up Sunghoon had after comparing him with his old picture. 

“Shut up, It doesn’t matter, I don’t even like her anymore,” he mumbled, a light blush creeping up his neck as he did so. 

Jake and Jay exchanged a knowing look, putting on a smile as they dragged Sunghoon for shopping while Jay went on talking about what all they should be packing for the three day trip, bringing a genuine smile to Hoon’s face as he looked at his goofy best friends. 

Maybe the trip wouldn’t be so bad, he thought. 

“Ay babe! You look hot,” Karina winked at you, eyeing you up and down while you glided your lipstick along the expanse of your lips, smacking them together a few times to spread it evenly. 

You winked back, “you look hotter.” She laughed just as you said that, engulfing you in a hug. 

“Ready to leave?” She asked, getting her luggage out as you followed with a nod, smiling while you got into the cab, Karina being quick to snap a few selfies to mark the start of your trip. 

The entire time on your way to your destination, you felt giddy, wondering how everyone looked now, how their life must have changed, did they even remember you, would they even recognize you? 

It had been a while since you had last met them and you secretly hoped that you’d get a chance to get laid—your frustrated mind needed this, the studies kept you busy and you hadn’t got time to tend to your personal needs. 

Your mind was full of scenarios as you imagined how your stay would go, what all activities you’d do and so on, falling asleep on the plane while envisioning the same. 

“Wake up, sleepy head,” Karina shook your arm slightly, waking you up from your dreamland. 

It took you a second to realize that the plane was going to land, followed by the announcement of the same and you were still sleepy when you put on your belt, eyes barely open as you wiped your lips with the back of your hand. 

The journey was short, and you were checked into your hotel room in no time. As soon as you jumped on the bed, Karina came into your room holding a bunch of skincare products and sheet masks. 

“Get up! We need that glow for tonight,” she demanded, plopping on the bed with you as she ushered you to go and wash your face while you mumbled complaints with the need to sleep more. 

Skincare was therapeutic for you, however, it also made you sleepy, even more so when the hotel beds were the absolute definition of comfort and pleasure, helping you slip into dreamland in no time. 

Your skin felt radiant, so lovingly soft by the time you woke up, also checking the time so see that you had to start getting ready for the reunion dinner at once for you to reach there in time. 

“No! You’re not wearing that,” Karina pointed at your trouser outfit, a pathetic scowl on her face, looking at the clothes in disapproval. 

“Why not?” You asked, looking at it with genuine confusion. It did seem like a decent outfit to you. 

“Because we have to show everyone that you’re still the it girl you were four years back, now hotter than ever,” she mumbled, looking into your luggage as you let her take the matter into her hands, your focus now on styling your hair. 

“This!” She exclaimed, getting a dress out which made your eyes sparkle. It was a new dress which you hadn’t gotten a chance to wear before, and she was right, it’s the perfect opportunity for you all to dress up a little. 

“Huh? I don’t remember keeping this in my bag,” you looked at her. 

“Well obviously, I did,” she flipped her hair, proud of herself. 

That was it, the music was blasting, the room was a mess with the makeup sprawled all around, also little articles of clothing as you both dolled yourself up. 

“Ready?” She smiled. She looked stunning  in that black dress of hers, her freshly coloured hair only added to her beauty. 

“Ready,” you confirmed. 

“Y/n!” You heard your name, and suddenly you felt warm hands around your body, pulling you into a friendly hug. 

Sweet voice and strawberry scent was enough for you to know it was Isa. A big smile spread on your face as you hugged her tighter, looking around to see all of your classmates hugging and talking to each other. 

“You look so pretty!” You were in awe, seeing her gummy smile and the pink dress she sported, she was no less than a princess. 

“Girl look at you? You’re glowing! You literally grow prettier each day,” she giggled, making your heart melt. She had always been kind and bubbly, another one of the reasons why you were so close to her. 

You looked around the restaurant, it was new and the interior was modern, booked for the night for your batchmates. Meeting everyone was like a breath of fresh air. 

You didn’t even manage to say hello to everyone before they announced the start of the dinner, asking everyone to take seats, however, one of your old friends Jay was quick to reach to you, his smile as sharp as you remembered it to be. 

“As stunning as ever,” he complimented you, hugging your side. 

He stood tall in front of you, sporting a scent that gave you the essence of richness which only complemented his black suit, worn with a white button up inside, a gold chain dangling down his slender neck, resting well on his clavicle. 

You can’t deny, he looked handsome. 

“Thank you,” you said softly, “you look chic as always too.”

A sly smile graced his face, “do I now?” He chuckled, “come on, let’s go and sit,” he said. 

You nodded, following him as you noticed that almost everyone had taken seats, Karina waving at you, pointing at the seat she saved, which you gladly took, fixing your dress while you did so as you started rambling about everyone you met till now. 

What you had failed to notice, however, was the person sitting right next to you—someone who had visibly stiffened with your sudden appearance. He didn’t move an inch, not until you finally turned your head to look his way. 

Your breath hitched, and you prayed that it wasn’t visible how your eyes widened by just a fraction, your mouth stayed agape, and your body frozen, all at the mere sight of Park Sunghoon. 

Glow up would be an understatement, he looked like a completely different person without his specs and baby fat resting on his cheek. 

His eyes were the perfect shade of chestnut brown colour, it was the first time you had looked into them so clearly, face sculpted with a sharp jawline and pointed nose, lips naturally shaded into a glossy reddish hue, his fangs peeking out by a midge, and hair parted to the side, styled accordingly to match his black button up. 

“Hey,” a deep voice snapped you out of your observation session and you realized that it was him. 

“Sunghoon, hey. It’s been a while,” you smiled at him softly, hoping that he didn’t notice you staring at him just a second back, mentally slapping yourself for reacting that way. 

Meanwhile the boy was surprised to learn that you indeed did remember him, his heart beating a little faster now that he was in such a close proximity with you. 

It was something he had ran through his mind a few times—the possibility of you both running into each other, the possibility that you’d care to remember him, the possibility that you would talk to him, however, now that it was actually happening, he couldn’t help but admire your beauty, absolutely no coherent thought graced his mind. 

“You look so beautiful,” he whispered mindlessly, mouth opening again as he realized what he had said out loud, “uh—how have you been?” He quickly asked, mentally slapping himself for being such a mess. 

That only made you smile further, a glint in your eyes as you replied, “thank you, Hoon. You look really handsome too.” You let out almost in a whispered breath, and you did mean it. 

Your words made him smile, which displayed his fangs. Everything about him intrigued you all of a sudden, his presence affecting you in a way you didn’t think it would, your curiosity higher than ever. 

Before you could talk more, the servers came out, bringing the starters as everyone chatted excitedly at your table, Karina pulling you to her side rather abruptly as you yelped while she whispered in your ear. 

“Is that him? Fucking hell, Y/n, you couldn’t say yes then but it’s not too late—just four years, do it now!” She rushed to speak into your ear, making sure no one else heard it but you. 

“Karina shut up, I just met him,” you whispered urgently with wide eyes to warn her.

“So? You have three whole days to be with him! And to be honest, he looks like he knows how to give a girl a real good fuck—” you covered her mouth, not letting her finish the sentence. 

“Oh lord! I’m not going to do that!” You exclaimed, taking a bite of your soup, mood uplifting at the scrumptious taste. 

“But why?” She was almost going to whine before Sunghoon called out your name, saving you from this conversation. 

The sound of him pronouncing your name was rather attractive, especially the way he enunciated it so perfectly, your face heating up with the sudden conversation. 

“Yes?” You asked too quickly. 

He chuckled softly and you swore your name had never sounded any better. 

Maybe you were too into studying all this while that even the littlest things made you jumpy. 

Or maybe it was the hottest looking man sitting right next to you. 

“Could you pass me that napkin, please?” He asked politely. 

You were quick to grab one for him as you nodded, not trusting your voice any further, his slender fingers brushed against yours as he took the napkin from you, saying thank you softly, the slight touch of his cold hands made you shiver. 

You needed a distraction before you’d make fun of yourself, and soon, you found one.

Yeonjun, who sat right in front of you, was successful in distracting you, asking about your life in Seoul and about what you’ve been studying.

He was also a student like you, although he liked to work as a model in his free time, “it pays well and you get free clothes too!” He explained with a goofy smile. 

You felt content, loving how friendly the atmosphere was as if you guys never lost touch in the first place, everyone drinking champagne to celebrate with a cheer that you join in too, maybe this is why people hype up reunions. 

Sunghoon was attentive to everything you had said till now, not wanting to eavesdrop yet way too curious to learn more about you, trying his best not to stare at you every few minutes. Your smile made his lips curve into one as well, unconsciously at that. 

The dinner concluded soon, everyone getting up and gathering for a round of group pictures. 

Sunghoon’s hand brushed against yours in the process, succeeding in giving you goosebumps again, which he didn’t fail to observe this time. 

“Are you cold?” He asked, noticing your goosebumps. 

You didn’t have any better explanation, and you couldn’t possibly tell him that he was one responsible for it. 

“Oh—yeah, a bit,” you answered, looking at the height difference between you both, his body looked buff underneath his shirt, his veins visible now that he had rolled his sleeves up. 

“Here,” he offered his blazer to you, gently wrapping it around your frame as you could feel yourself being overdosed with his scent—it was attractive, engulfing you as a whole. 

“I—thank you.” Your cheeks felt hot as you looked away, trying to control your breathing. 

Sunghoon was clearly pleased to see you in his clothes, he had seen you after a solid four years and yet, his opinion about you didn’t change in the slightest, you looked perfect to him. 

You both reached the group, you trying to tiptoe more as to ensure your visibility in the picture. It was hard to fit such a big group into a frame, especially when people simply couldn’t stand straight out of pure excitement, posing with silly expressions. 

“Y/n! Come here,” Karina called your name, pulling you close for another set of pictures with everyone. 

“Listen guys! Tomorrow we’ll meet at the beach by twelve, make sure you reach there on time!” Hyunjin announced. 

You loved beaches, the sunlight made the water shine like it hid the prettiest set of diamonds in there, the smell of land and water meeting was soothing to your senses, a place so calming, you could spend hours there just staring at the beauty of nature, just to see the sky switching it’s colours from hues of blue to deepest of the orange to the darkest shade of black. 

It all made beaches beautiful and you were excited about tomorrow already. 

As you made your way out of the restaurant, you noticed two other people waiting for you along with your best friend, Jay and Sunghoon. 

“You’re here! We’re taking a cab together to our hotel, apparently they’re staying over at the same place as ours,” she explained, “they probably have their rooms in front of ours too!” She joked. 

Sunghoon looked at you in his blazer, deciding that he won’t even ask you to give it back to him, it suited you too much. 

His clothes suited you way too much. 

He wanted to spend more time with you, he wanted to sit next to you in the cab and he made sure to sit in between you and Jay, his side pressed against yours. 

“Are you comfortable?” He asked softly. 

“Oh, yeah. Are you?” 

He nodded, loving the arrangement so far. Living in the same hotel meant that he’d get to see more of you while Jay sniggered, causing Sunghoon to elbow him as he let out an ‘ouch’. Opening his mouth to ask you questions now. 

“So, Y/n, how’s it going with uni? Do you have a boyfriend or someone special in your life?” Jay asked, knowing that his friend was dying to know the same. 

“It’s honestly so hectic but somehow still manageable, I like what I’m doing and I won’t be leaving without that degree so, yes I feel like the hard work would pay in the end,” you explained confidently, “and no, I sadly do not have a boyfriend. It’s honestly hard to go on dates when you barely have time for yourself.”

Sadly you had said yet Sunghoon couldn’t have been happier with your answer. 

You’d always been hard working and Sunghoon admires that about you, his focus was solely on you ever since you stepped inside the restaurant and talked to him. It wasn’t easy for Sunghoon to fall for someone, but once he saw you again, it was as if his feelings for you had never left. 

Just then, the car swiftly came to a stop, jerking forward slightly as Sunghoon quickly put his arm around your waist, pulling your body into him, securing it. 

Some car had successfully jumped the red light, almost causing an accident, but thankfully you guys were all safe and without any scratch as the driver was quick to use the brakes, before driving again, making sure everything goes smoothly now. 

“You okay?” He asked, whispering as he cupped your cheeks. 

You nodded, unconsciously shifting closer to him and he didn’t make any efforts to move his hand away, letting it rest on your waist while your head rested against his shoulder. You were hyper aware of the proximity but the scare was enough for you to not pay attention to it. 

It felt comfortable, his scent, his touch, but more than that, it felt genuine, which is why you closed your eyes, sleeping on his shoulder while his breathing hitched, looking at your sleeping figure. 

So pretty, he thought, brushing a few strands of your hair away from your face, tucking them behind your ear, letting his fingers linger there for a while. It felt like a dream to Sunghoon, and he wished that he could get more of this — more of you. 

The comfort and your warmth seemingly got to him as well, his head resting on yours as he drifted off to dreamland with a slight smile ghosting on his lips. 

“Cute! So fucking cute what the fuck?” 

“They look like a couple, woah.” 

A series of flashes was quick to disturb your sleep, eyelids slowly opening to see two phones being shoved into your face, clicking pictures of you, the chatter coming from the very same pair of people. 

Just then, you realized that the picture in question was not just of you, but of the guy who so gladly let you sleep on his shoulder. 

Your eyes widened when he blinked open his eyes too, Karina and Jay laughing at his reaction when he saw you staring at him, face inches away from yours. 

His eyes widened comically before he diverted his attention to Jay, slapping his hand away who was busy shooting all of this on his phone, even the cab driver watched it with a fond smile on his face. 

“You guys are adorable,” Karina squealed when you got out of the cab, rushing to get back to your room, cheeks heated and heart racing. 

Were you embarrassed? Yes. But not even a single cell in your body can deny that it felt good—being close to someone. 

“Can you stop pairing us as if we’re school kids?” You deadpanned, rolling your eyes at her excitement. 

“Absolutely not, it’s fun.” She shrugged, joining you in the lift, “oh, and by the way, nice blazer you’ve got on,” she smiled, continuing to tease you. 

Right, you had to return the blazer to Hoon. 

Turns out, Karina was borderline prophetic and both of them were indeed on the same floor as you, your room right in front of Sunghoon’s room as if universe was hinting at something. 

“Good night guys,” she sang, leaving for her room, a smirk on her face as she subtly pointed at Sunghoon’s room. 

Jay followed suit, leaving for his own room, not forgetting to send a wink your way, which the other boy noticed with a frown on his face. 

Your outstretched hand got his attention, his blazer now in your hand, “thank you so much for giving me your blazer, Hoon,” you spoke up.

His nickname comes out of your mouth seamlessly, making him smile. 

“You can keep it with yourself,” he started, causing you to tilt your head in a questioning manner, “in case you feel cold again, y’know?”

“Yeah? What if I want you to be the one who keeps me warm if I feel cold tomorrow?” You looked into his eyes, testing the waters to ensure if he was actually confident enough to handle you now. 

“I—Yes I can keep you warm,” he stuttered. 

“Y’know we won’t be needing the blazer then,” he answered a second after overcoming the initial shock of you saying that, stepping closer to you. 

“Perfect. Good night then, Hoon,” you spoke sweetly, a playful smirk on your face, your own heart racing at the exchange. 

However, he wrapped his fingers around your wrist the second you turned around, spinning you so you stood right in front of him, hands on his chest to support yourself as your eyes widened at his bold move. 

“Good night, love,” he whispered, his finger tracing your jaw, before he leaned in to place a soft kiss on the apple of your cheek, a teasing smile on his face before he walked two steps back, his bottom lip bitten to conceal his smirk as he got into his room.

Your fingers instantly touched the place where he had kissed you. The small display of affection earlier had left you restless and desperate for more, wondering how his lips would feel against the expanse of your skin. 

“God, Sunghoon,” you whispered to yourself, eyes closing as you realized;

You wanted more. 

“Fuck—oh lord! Faster, please,” you whined, as his fingers pressed against your cunt, rubbing your soft folds in an agonizingly slow pace, his lips planting hot open-mouthed kisses down the valley of your chest. 

“You like that, huh?” He asked, mumbling against your skin, biting and sucking on your hardened nipples harshly, doing it enough to imprint marks on your body. 

The pain was more pleasurable than you could have ever thought of. 

“So fucking much,” you hummed, fingers grabbing onto his roots, tugging his hair slightly. 

You cried out of pleasure when he inserted two of his fingers into your pussy, pumping them in and out before he came to whisper against your lips. 

“Bet you’ve been dreaming about this—about me,” he smirked. 

A moan left your mouth, which he swallowed by kissing you right away, taking all your lewd noises in. 

“Don’t you, kitten?” He asked against your mouth, his fingers leading you to your orgasm, the nickname only acting as a catalyst to the high of your pleasure. 

All until your alarm rang and your eyes snapped open, a gasp leaving your mouth as you sat up straight in a go, once you came to the realization that it was just a dream. 

A wet dream. 

About Park Sunghoon. 

“Oh god, oh my fucking god, no way,” you groaned, hiding your face into the blanket, pussy tingling with the dream you had a few seconds back, mostly due to how realistic it was. 

You had no other option but to hop into the shower and lean against the shower wall, your fingers inching down to play with your soaked folds, rubbing your clit in gentle circles as your phone played a sensual song from your playlist, remembering how Hoon touched you in your dream. 

You moaned, shoving two fingers in, curling them inside you with a desperate moan, a moan of Sunghoon’s name, as you bit your lip to conceal your lewd noises, you thrusted your digits with need, till you made a mess on your fingers, breathing hard as you struggled to stand straight. 

You looked into the mirror, breathless, realizing just how pathetic your condition was, even more so when you had made yourself cum by thinking of Park Sunghoon. 

You wondered how you were ever going to face him after this. 

Especially when you had a beach day ahead and the possibility of seeing Hoon shirtless would be high. 

Ignoring the fact that you had a wet dream about the man sitting in front of you during breakfast was a tough thing to do, yet you managed it well. 

He looked like a prince even in casual clothes and he knew how to make you go crazy by just a wink of his, even giving you the doughnut in his plate, which you wanted so dearly. 

His appearance was innocent, unlike last night where he was in a black button up—hot and attractive beyond words, he left you speechless. 

“Are we renting a bike or not?” You asked Karina with a smirk after you were done eating. 

“I’m down,” she gave you a high-five, “I don’t know about the boys though.”

“Wait, you can ride bikes?” Jay asked, impressed. 

“Of course, we can, Jay,” You answered proudly. 

“Take us on rides then,” he said, brow raised at the offer. 

“Sure, select your rider, we’ll go to the beach on the bike then,” you smiled.

By the time you got ready in shorts and a top, which you wore on your bikini set, the sun had come up and was shining brightly. You had your bag packed with all essentials and two sets of extra clothes because you never know when you’re at the beach, not to mention how much sunscreen you had used to protect your skin. 

All four of you got into the lift, and you noticed how you and Karina were wearing the same colours, while the boys were in shorts and t-shirts. 

“Who’s coming with me then?” She asked, showing her bike keys. 

“I am,” Jay spoke up, as if it was their plan to leave you with Sunghoon, alone at that. 

You bit your lip, closing your eyes for a second before turning to look at Hoon, “you’re stuck with me then.”

“Perfect,” he smirked, following you out. 

“Wear this,” you passed him the helmet, which he put on. 

But your gaze went on his arm, which flexed as he fixed his helmet, the short sleeved t-shirt did nothing to hide his muscles. 

You were surely not gonna survive this day. 

“Let’s go,” he smiled, snapping you out of your daydream. 

“You ready?” A smirk settled on your face as you checked the rear view mirror, looking at Sunghoon, who was quick to send a nod back. 

What he didn’t expect was that you’d speed up the second you start the bike, making him jerk forward and hold on to your waist, making you shiver slightly before you began your journey of a total of ten minutes, the beach being close to your hotel. 

“Woah, fuck!” You heard the boy say from behind, making you smile as you zoomed past the cars and other vehicles. 

“Hold on tight,” you screamed against the wind, loving the light breeze caressing your skin, and Sunghoon’s body pressed against yours. 

His arms tightened around you with your command, and your mind wandered to the morning when you dreamt about him. 

It did feel good, and you were certain you wanted more. 

Meanwhile, Sunghoon was looking around, enjoying the scenery, but most importantly, he was enjoying the time he got to spend with you — his old crush. He leaned in, taking in your scent, smiling at how you didn’t change your perfume still. 

He was highly attentive and observant when it came to you. 

A series of hooting was heard in the parking lot, where all of your gang was waiting for you four to arrive, thoroughly surprised to see you riding bikes. 

“That’s so fucking hot,” Yeonjun came over, wearing only beach shorts, abs on display as he saw you take off your helmet, the scene looked as if it came out of a movie. 

“Dang, Junnie, been working out?” you asked, focus now on him as you happily chatted and took his hand, which he offered with his charming smile, and walked towards the beach with everyone else. 

Sunghoon watched it all with his jaw clenched, Jay and Karina approaching him with a knowing expression on their faces. He wanted to spend time with you, and he didn’t expect anyone to steal you away from him so soon. 

He was pissed. 

“Maybe she’d notice you if you remove your SpongeBob t-shirt,” Jay adviced, keeping his elbow on his shoulder. 

“What’s wrong with SpongeBob?” He asked, tilting his head. 

“Oh god, what would you do without Jay, he’s right by the way. Also, do you have abs?” Karina asked, doing the same from his other side. 

“Uh huh—does it matter?” Hoon huffed, shrugging their hands off and walking further. 

“It does matter when you’re whipped and trying to impress a baddie!” Jay announced helpfully, making Hoon stop to slap his shoulder. 

“Stop shouting for fucks sake!” He warned. 

“You’ll never get her at this rate. Trust me, go shirtless and see the magic. Also, stop being a loser and move your ass, go and approach her before someone else does,” Jay said. 

Sunghoon simply looked around to ensure that no one was eavesdropping on their conversation, his friend embarrassed him enough and your best friend didn’t help either. Did he actually make it that obvious? He wondered. 

Seeing you laughing with Yeonjun did make him want to step up his game. 

“Guys! Get changed and then the ones who wanna enjoy the water are free to do that, while those who wish to do water sports, gather around that area,” Taehyun announced, pointing at a shed area meant for the registration of water sports. 

You simply wanted to enjoy in the water, so you made your way towards the changing stalls, getting rid of your shorts and top to reveal your bikini, after which, you looked into the mirror to ensure your appearance was okay. 

“Love the bikini,” Isa complimented and you cooed at her one piece swimsuit. Everything she wore suited her perfectly. 

And Isa didn’t lie, a lot of heads turned to look at you once you were out, some silently admiring your beauty, for instance—Sunghoon, with his eyes fixated on you and your body. 

While others, like Yeonjun, didn’t hesitate to show how pleased they were by your entrance, whistling slowly, which flustered you slightly as you rolled your eyes at him, rushing to get under the beach umbrella, eyes darting away to look at Sunghoon, who was already staring at you. 

“See you in the water,” Karina left, running away with excitement clear on her face. 

That left you two alone under the umbrella. 

“You’re not going?” You asked Sunghoon, getting sunscreen out of your bag. 

“Just waiting for you,” he spoke smoothly, causing you to look at him. 

“Help me then?” You passed him the bottle of sunscreen, turning around with your bottom lip bitten. 

Sunghoon took a deep breath, he wanted to touch you in more ways than one. He squeezed out some sunscreen, his cold fingers touching your skin as he applied it on your shoulder with a gentle massage. 

His strong hands made you sigh with pleasure, head tilting to give him more access to your neck area, his fingers paying attention to each inch of your back, fingers digging into your inner shoulder with his breath fanning your neck. 

He took your name, almost as a whisper. 

“Yes, Hoon?” You looked back at him, only to find his face inches away from you. 

He came closer, looking into your eyes, “let’s go,” he smiled, heart racing from the proximity and he wasn’t sure how longer he could handle staying so close to you without even kissing you. 

“Race you to the water,” you screamed, running away with a smile so big, it naturally made the boy smile as he realized how much he wanted you. 

You were fast, but he was faster and his arms wrapped around your waist the second your feet touched the water. Soft giggles left your mouth as he turned you around and ran further, standing in the water with his arms open and a victorious smile graced his face. 

“That’s fucking cheating!” You pointed your finger at him, others laughing at your childish bickering as he defended himself with a serious expression, trying not to give in to your pout. 

“I don’t cheat,” he came close to say, pouting on his own. 

Before you could retort, he started splashing water all over your body, others joining soon and splashing water everywhere. 

“Hoon, what the—” You squealed, rushing to splash water back on him, only to trip and fall right into his arms, his hands firmly holding you close to him. 

“What? Falling for me already?” He asked, a cocky smirk on his face. 

“In your dreams,” you retorted. 

“You were,” he shrugged, confusing you yet again. 

“Where?” 

He hooked his finger and lifted your chin tenderly, making you look into his eyes, “in my dream, last night,” he whispered, leaning in closer, leaving you speechless. 

Sunghoon was the shy, nerdy kid who used to sit in the front of the class, always keeping to himself, talking to only Jay. 

Now, however, you couldn’t even recognize the guy in front of you. While you found the old Hoon to be cute, you wouldn’t lie when you say that the confidence he oozed now made you want to know him more. The words rolled off his tongue so smoothly, which made you wonder if he flirted with others too. 

It seemed as if he was on a roll to make you go speechless, and his plan was working. By the time you turned around to reply to him, you saw him swiftly remove his t-shirt. 

Your body stilled as your eyes traveled up and down his body, skin shining with the sunlight that complimented him perfectly. He was lean but muscular, muscles flexing as he took off his SpongeBob t-shirt, abs now on display for everyone to see. He looked flawless. 

Karina elbowed your side, eliciting a yelp out of you, “ow fuck—what?” You whisper yelled. 

“You’re drooling,” she pointed out, “get that man,” she tapped on your shoulder, pushing you towards him. 

However, when you observed some girl, who wasn’t a part of your group, coming close to Hoon while placing her hand on his bicep and asking if he was single, it made you want to run away and not witness the exchange of Sunghoon smirking at the other girl. 

Jealousy was a nasty disease, and sadly you were terminal. 

Naturally, you made your way out of the water, face hot as you fanned yourself walking towards the beach chairs under the umbrella, not knowing that the boy had no other job but to follow you, politely rejecting the other girl. 

You sat down, closing your eyes as you tried your hardest not to think about the dream you had earlier, your desire only fuelled when he flirted with you with that ever so stunning smirk of his. 

Seeing him shirtless was your last straw.

You needed alcohol in your system to survive this, to let yourself free. Sunghoon was already resting on the chair next to you by the time you opened your eyes again. 

“I’m hurt,” he started, looking your way. 

You raised your brows at his comment, “why? I thought you had company.” You took a sip of your drink, enjoying the bitter taste on your tongue and the slight warmth it brought to your throat. 

The statement was of immense pleasure to him, especially when he sensed the hint of (read: obvious) jealousy that your words radiated, and he just wished he wasn’t being delusional, his ego boosting alongside his confidence. 

Everyone was out of the water by now, the gang was done with their water sports activities as well, coming and sharing their experiences with a loud chatter, also talking about arranging a bonfire as the sky turned into the prettiest shades of yellow with orange and red hues. 

“I do have company,” he whispered, coming closer for you to hear, “a very pretty one at that.”

He took the beer bottle from your hand, taking a long sip of it, your eyes fixated on how his Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped it down. 

You snatched your bottle from him, watching as two drops trailed down his chest and towards his abs. 

“Sorry, but you left your pretty company back in the water,” you huffed, smiling sarcastically before leaving to get a shower and change back into your shorts before the bonfire. 

Sunghoon held on to your wrist before you could escape, pulling you so your back was flesh against his chest, his lips on your ear, brushing it slightly, “you sound jealous, princess,” he teased. 

You turned to look at him, lips an inch away from his, your head tilting, “I don’t have a single reason to be jealous, Sunghoon,” you quipped. 

With that, you walked away, knowing well you were jealous when you had no right to be so. 

Sunghoon, on the other hand, was having the time of his life stealing your attention and having you to himself. Your reactions only encouraged him to do more, he wasn’t the one to flirt, however, he loved to get a reaction out of you. 

Being together for two days was enough for Sunghoon to realize that his feelings for you never faded, it only grew more after spending more time with you. He couldn’t hide the smile forming on his face as you denied being jealous, it gave him hope that maybe, just maybe, he’d have a chance to win your heart. The fragrance of your body mist lingered around him because of the earlier proximity. 

He swore it was his new favourite scent. 

His eyes followed you, admiring your beauty from afar before he too went to get a shower and freshen up. 

“So, you and Sunghoon, huh?” Yeonjun asked, sitting down on the sand next to you. 

The shower did make you feel better, the cool breeze and the sunset creating a calming atmosphere, the bonfire in front of you only making it cozier. 

The question caught you off guard, resulting in an awkward cough from you, “what do you mean?” 

“Come on, anyone can notice the sexual tension between you two, or maybe I’m just observant,” he shrugged, “you can’t deny that he’s hot,” he pointed out helpfully. 

“I’m not denying anything, but I don’t think anything will happen between us,” you pouted, watching the man walk towards your group, drying his hair with a towel. 

A gesture so natural, but he made it seem so enthralling that you couldn’t help but stare. 

“So you do think he’s hot,” Yeonjun followed your gaze with a smirk. 

He wasn’t going to let this go, and you were sure of that, a groan leaving your mouth as you divert your attention towards him. 

“I’ll help you get his attention, although I think you’re doing pretty fine yourself,” he lowered his voice at the last few words as Sunghoon sat down next to you, passing you his charming smile. 

“Truth or dare,” Yeonjun asked you, starting to implement his plan, passing you another can of beer. 

Sunghoon looked at you with curiosity filled eyes, jaw clenched slightly as he noticed your closeness with Yeonjun, why is he always around you? 

“Uh—truth?” You asked more than answering. 

This also gained the attention of your group, everyone cheering to play a round of truth and dare just like the old times. 

“That’s boring,” he scrunched his nose, “how about I dare you to kiss or rather, makeout with someone in this circle?” 

“Yeah, absolutely not. I’m not playing,” you took a long sip of your beer, ignoring the series of disappointed grunts coming your way. 

“Why?” He whined, “I bet anyone would want a kiss from you,” he emphasized, looking around the circle dramatically before he swiped his tongue on his bottom lip. 

Sunghoon bit the inside of his cheek in annoyance, eyes never leaving your face as he saw you disagree, a small smile on his face at your rejection. 

Oh boy, was he going crazy with his ever so often mood swings, only when it involved you. 

He also wondered if Yeonjun wanted that kiss for himself. 

“He’s right I mean, you are beautiful and oh god, I remember the number of proposals you used to get on Valentine’s day,” someone pointed out as a matter of fact. 

Seems like everyone was drunk already and the night had just started. 

That statement made Hoon go stiff as he remembered his own memory of confessing to you. 

“Oh, that reminds me of the time Sunghoon had come to ask you out,” Yunjin mentioned with a mischievous smile, as if everyone was on a mission to have you and Sunghoon in the spotlight. 

You closed your eyes, dreading the topic that was about to come up right in front of everyone, moreover, deep down you did wish to hear what Hoon had to say, after all these years.

The said guy groaned, hiding his face when the topic he so desperately wanted to avoid, came up out of nowhere, secretly hoping that you didn’t find him weird after remembering the same. 

“Sunghoon confessed?” 

“What? When did this happen?”

“Did you reject him?” 

A bunch of questions were thrown your way and you looked at Hoon with a panicked face, him doing the same, biting his cheek yet again and looking away in, well, rejection. 

“It was in high school, and that’s all we’re telling you,” you answered, dismissing the crowd. 

“So you can kiss him as your dare,” someone proudly suggested. 

He looked bothered and you frowned, “guys, no. Let’s not make him uncomfortable now, it should be consensual y’know,” you spoke gently and Yeonjun took the hint to change the conversation really quick, daring someone else to drink five shots in a go. 

If only you knew how much he yearned for it, yet he was sensible enough to not let it happen in front of an audience; batshit drunk and immature audience if he must say so. 

“Hey. Are you alright?” You kept your hand on his surprisingly warm ones. 

“You’re cold,” he frowned, intertwining his fingers with yours effortlessly and keeping them inside his jacket’s pocket, “I have to keep you warm, remember?” He said, still looking elsewhere as to hide the evident blush creeping up his face, not sure if it was due to the prior embarrassment or the newfound warmth of your body. 

He was nervous, trying his best to divert the topic and you let him, scooting closer to feel his warmth. 

“I really did not know you had a boyfriend back then,” he confessed with reddened cheeks, “I was just so fucking busy with exams and—”

“You don’t have to say anything, Hoon. I do understand and I’m sorry for what happened that day,” you tilted your head to look at him, blinking slowly as you finally felt your alcohol kicking in, “you’re pretty,” you whispered.

Maybe you shouldn’t have drank that much, knowing well you can’t handle, or anyone can handle you after you reach that level of drunk. 

Hoon was on his fourth can of beer already, his tolerance level not being too high, causing him to get drunk faster—it showed on his face. 

His heart hammered against his ribs when you whispered that to him, and he pulled you closer, “you’re the prettiest,” he mumbled, tucking a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. 

Everyone seemed to be in their own worlds, laughing at random things, playing music and dancing, however, your drunk self wanted nothing more than to be with Sunghoon, to kiss him, and it took all of your self control to restrain yourself from doing so. 

Sunghoon pulled you closer and on his lap, your face buried in his chest and his arms wrapped around you. He wanted you more than ever and being drunk, he couldn’t help but pull you impossibly closer to him. 

His palm rested on the side of your waist, gentle caresses sending jolts of pleasure up your spine. It felt too 

Despite everything, you did admit how his presence made you feel warm inside, and it wasn’t solely because of alcohol. 

He bummed a song under his breath, you almost slept in his hold, his deep voice giving you butterflies. His embrace made you feel wanted, just like you had wanted him, and you indeed were in your own world, soon being disturbed by others saying it’s time to go back. 

Someone made you drink water, and soon, you were in a cab with your best friend next to you, Sunghoon on the other side and Jay riding shotgun. 

“Good night,” Karina sang out once you reached your hotel, Jay leaving soon after. 

“Come with me, I want to sleep with you,” you whined, no control over your mouth anymore, you took Sunghoon’s hand, pulling him into your room. 

“Y/n,” he whispered, closing the door behind him. 

“Fuck,” he muttered out, seeing you remove your denim shorts, leaving you in your t-shirt as you climbed on your bed. 

He followed, discarding his clothes and getting into the bed with you, a blanket covering your bodies. Your back was pressed against his muscular chest, his arm around your waist keeping you in place. 

A soft gasp left your mouth as you felt his hot breath on your shoulder, his lips touching your skin, making it burn with warmth, “Hoon,” you softly whined. 

“Yes, baby?” He continued placing open mouthed kisses on your skin. 

“Kiss me,” you breathed out. 

“Would you like that?”

“Yes, so much,” you confirmed. 

“I want to kiss you,” he confessed, “but not when we’re drunk. If you ask that of me tomorrow then I’ll do it without question.”

“No—right now,” you mumbled, whining. 

“Shh, sleep for me baby,” he said, distracting you with soft kisses on your shoulder again. 

“But—”

“Go on, princess, sleep, hm?” 

You smiled even though he couldn’t see you, “okay,” you said softly, admiring how beautiful the man was. 

You turned around to face him, “good night, Hoon,” your voice came out as a whisper. 

“Good night , princess.” You felt his lips on your forehead before you drifted off to dreamland. 

A dull ache in your head disturbed your precious sleep. Your eyes opened with a few blinks, settling down on Sunghoon, who laid next to you with his eyes capturing your each movement. You stiffened for a good second, remembering how hot his lips felt on your body the last night. 

“Fuck,” you groaned, hand on your head as the effects of hangover started to kick in. 

“Here,” he got up, passing you a bottle of water. 

“Hoon,” you started, not sure what to say about last night. 

“I’ll go,” he says, “I—I didn’t want to make things awkward between us,” he apologized, getting up quickly, putting his clothes on and leaving before you could say much. 

“Ugh,” you groaned, hating how the situation turned into what it shouldn’t have been, you wanted him, drunk and sober, in both states. 

But he didn’t know that. You were worried if he didn’t want that, or if his gestures were friendly all this time. 

His kisses weren’t friendly last night, your mind reminded you, and you let out a series of curses at that, at how desperately you had wanted him to be close to you, all this in a span of two days. 

Sunghoon was breathing hard by the time he locked his room, going straight in the shower.  He was frustrated. The hot water droplets paired with his flashbacks from the last night, the way you said his name in a whisper, the way your bikini fit you perfectly, and how you looked at him like you wanted him just as much as he did. 

He groaned, hand traveling down his skin to pump his semi hardened cock, gulping as images of you invaded his mind. With his head resting against the tiled wall, his fist moved on his length with speed, with need. 

He had never jerked off to the thought of anyone before you came into his life again, it was his first time and he admitted, he didn’t know that just the thought of your body pressed against his would make him this hard. 

With a moan escaping his lips, he painted the tiles white with his cum, your name leaving his lips as he stood there, breathing hard and deep in thought. 

He had to have you. 

Tonight. 

“We’ll go first,” you tell Karina, getting ready together for the last night — the club night. 

“Sure, but why?” she asked, trying to perfect her already perfect liner. 

“I don’t wish to face Sunghoon,” you mumbled, sitting down on the bed to wear your heels. 

She stopped her movements, turning to look at you, “I thought you guys hooked up last night, it was going well, wasn’t it?” She asked, confused. 

“I don’t know, babe. He didn’t do anything yesterday because we were drunk, which was very sweet of him, but then he left this morning without talking about it,” you explained. 

“So talk tonight, and maybe do more cause you don’t have much time left,” she reminded you, “maybe go with Yeonjun’s plan too, Hoon would definitely reach out to you once he sees you with him. I’ve seen that he doesn’t really like when Jun’s with you, it shows on his face.”

“Really?” You asked with a frown, “making him jealous sounds very high school core to me.”

“So what? It works!” She smiled, “and I’m ready, how do I look?” 

“Stunning, gorgeous, perfect,” you answered, “and I think I’ll take up your advice this time.”

She smirked, “let’s go and get you your man,” she said, coming close to you, getting a shade of lipstick out which suits you through and through, knowing well that it’s the perfect opportunity to use it. 

Flashy lights, loud music, drinks and dancing bodies everywhere. It was easy to spot Yeonjun on the DJ stage, vibing to the music feely. Life of the party as always. 

“Let’s grab some drinks,” Karina spoke in your ear, the music being too loud for you to hear much from a distance. 

You nodded, following her and smiling when you saw a few people from your batch standing there and drinking. 

“My ladies, you look hot,” Beomgyu said, kissing your knuckles and ordering drinks for you both. 

Seems like making Hoon jealous won’t be a problem after all, especially when everyone has a flirty nature. 

You weren’t going to drink today, you had to be sober and in your right mind, so you settled for orange juice instead, the music making you move on your own. 

“My lady!” Yeonjun spoke up, popping out of nowhere, pulling you into a hug before he came closer to whisper, “you look stunning,” his eyes shining as he said so, “but I don’t see lover boy, where’s he?” 

“Will be here soon I hope,” you replied. 

“Dance with me, he’ll definitely come sooner if he sees you with me,” he smirked as you took his hand, taking up on his offer. 

Yeonjun was a good company after all, your eyes widening at his bold moves before he pulled you in with a smirk, “lover boy’s here, and he’s looking at us,” he informed you, your eyes moving behind to look at him. 

Sunghoon was agitated, fuming almost with the sight in front of him. 

He wanted you all to himself, for tonight, tomorrow, and if possible by any means—forever, and he wasn’t going to shy away, not this time. 

“Are you just gonna stand and watch while he takes away your girl?” Jay asked from beside him. 

“Not today, not this time, Jay,” Hoon replied simply, his eyes following your actions, watching as Yeonjun took you to the bar, Gyu on the other side as you laughed about something you were talking about, whispering in each other’s ears. 

Sunghoon scoffed, rolling his eyes as he walked towards you. He didn’t wish to be nice all of a sudden, it was the last night, last possible chance for him to actually do something or regret sitting back forever. 

He stood right behind you at the bar, eyes fixated on your face, the shade of lipstick you had on suited you so perfectly that he wanted to ruin it by smashing his lips onto yours, turning you around in a single go and claiming you his. 

Instead, he tapped on your shoulder, successfully capturing your attention as you finally looked at him thoroughly — he was clad in black trousers, a loose black shirt with two top buttons kept open, his chest slightly on display. A delicate chain on his slender neck, hair parted to the side to match his look and his defined jaw clenched as he looked at you with a desire filled gaze.

His eyes held a different kind of intensity tonight, almost the kind you’d want to get lost in, his lips curved into an attractive smirk as he finally spoke. 

“May I steal you for a moment?” He asked. 

“Yeah,” you nodded mindlessly, gulping at how fine he looked. 

He didn’t wait for you to follow him, instead, he held on to your wrist and pulled you with him, your eyes widened at his bold move, your feet moving quicker to match his pace as he dragged you out from the back door, to an alleyway which was empty. 

“Sunghoon—” you called out his name, but he was quick to push you against the wall.

His eyes looked into yours, they were dark with a feeling you couldn’t quite understand before he leaned in, “remember what you said yesterday?” he asked, nose touching yours, frustration clear in his voice. 

“W—what?” Your voice came out shaky, his fingers on your arms were enough to make you shiver.

“Fuck, kitten. Forgot already?” He chuckled and you let out a shaky breath at how easily he called you such nicknames. 

“Forgot what?” You asked, looking into his hooded eyes. 

“That you wanted me to kiss you,” he leaned in further, his lips brushing against yours with his statement. 

“Yeah? And what about it?” you asked, trying to sound stern, as if your legs weren’t about to give out right this second. 

He scoffed, “I fucking bet you’d love it if Yeonjun would do that, won’t you?”

“I could be wrong, but I have a teeny tiny feeling that you are jealous, Hoon,” you replied, a small satisfactory smile on your face when you saw him scowl, your index finger resting on his clavicle. 

He tilted your head upwards, his slender fingers holding your chin up so you looked into his eyes, “fuck—yeah,” he breathed out, “yeah I am, because I fucking want you all to myself—” he confessed. 

“Fuck it,” you muttered midway his sentence, breaking your tough girl act and pulling him closer by his collar, your hand on his shoulder as you pressed your lips onto his. 

He was quick to react, pushing you against the wall harder while also pulling you closer by your ass, his other hand on your nape. His lips moved against yours in a perfect harmony, you felt your knees getting weaker as his soft lips kissed you with no intention of letting go—not now, not never. 

He separated your legs apart with his knees, pushing it in between them with ease, you pushed yourself further till you could feel his thigh in between your legs, applying pressure to your core which had you moaning into his mouth, almost to the point of drooling. 

“Fuck,” he cussed, separating your lips to place rushed kisses on your neck, your head tilting to give him space as you grinded on his thigh, head ringing with the high he gave you just with his kisses. 

“Ah—Hoon,” you whined, causing him to stop his actions, his slender fingers wrapping around your neck as he pulled you closer yet again, speaking against your lips. 

“I really thought I was over you after not meeting you for four fucking years, baby,” he almost growled, “but nah. I saw you at the party sitting next to me and I realized that I still want you, now more than ever,” he whispered, staring deep into your eyes. 

“I—I want you too, Hoon,” your voice came out breathy. 

He let out a low laugh at that, “you sure you don’t want Yeonjun?” 

He was jealous, he didn’t bother denying that and you admit you found this side of him hot, possessiveness clear in his eyes, which had turned even darker if it was possible. 

“His name wasn’t the one on my tongue when I touched myself last night, y’know,” you admitted, not missing the look of slight surprise on his face, “it was yours, only yours,” you tiptoed to whisper in his ear. 

A barely there smirk settled on your lips as you tried to leave, but Hoon was quick to pull you back, his hand on the back of your head as he pushed you against the wall yet again, and you loved how easily he handled you, as if your body moved the way he wanted it to. 

“You’ll be the death of me, kitten,” he said, “it makes me want to mark you up.”

“Why don’t you do it then?” you whispered, raising your brow as a challenge. 

He didn’t need to be told twice, his lips were on yours the very next second, your fingers tugging at his silky roots, sighing in exasperation with the wetness pooling in your underwear, your mind going fuzzy and your insides melting as you let him take control of you. 

He nips at your bottom lip, hand traveling down to cup your breasts, squeezing them lightly before he pinches your hardening nipples, your back arched into him as you feel a shiver going down your spine. 

Your short dress and its sheer fabric does nothing to help you, your skin feels as if it’s on fire with how passionately he kisses you, pulling you into him with desperation while pushing you back against the wall, your hand going under his shirt, tracing his faint abs softly. 

He knows it’s not even nearly appropriate to do this in public, but he can’t, for the life of him, stop his hands from roaming over the expanse of your body, from his fang-like canines to bite your clavicle and his eyes darkening from lust as he sees your body responding to him exactly how he wants to. 

“I won’t be able to stop myself anymore,” he grunted, taking your name.  

“Take me back to the hotel,” you breathed out, intertwining your fingers with his. 

He nodded fervently, hoping that his hard-on won’t be visible as he drags you through the sea of dancing bodies, biting his lip before you both get to the parking lot, getting into the car he had rented earlier. 

He tried his best to be a gentleman as he opened the car door for you, bending down to press another sloppy kiss on your lips, the atmosphere warm with how drunk he looked in your essence. 

It was hard for him to walk and get into the car himself, especially when you were right there, ready and just as desperate as him, your deep breaths only making him breathless. 

His hand rested on your thigh the whole fifteen minutes of the drive, inching upwards with docile squeezes which made you squirm in your seat, low whines leaving your mouth desperately. 

“Shh, baby. I’ll have to park the car right here if you keep making such sweet noises,” he warned. 

The offer was tempting—tempting enough for you to let out a moan, to which he did what he had to. He swiftly took a turn, parking the car at the empty lane, switching the engine off before he unbuckled his seatbelt. 

He turned your way, lips on yours as he unbuckled your belt too, a gasp leaving your lips as he effortlessly pulled you to his lap. 

“You’re so fucking pretty.” His thumb traced your lip, which you parted looking up at him with innocent eyes to suck on two of his digits, swirling your tongue around it, your cheeks hollow as you took it in. You could feel his hardened length just under your clothed cunt, which made you move your hips slightly, just to get a reaction out of him, testing the waters. 

However it backfired once he smirked against your lips, the warmth of his palm travelling up your body, resting on your clavicle as his fingers closed in around your neck, giving it a gentle squeeze before he thrusted up. 

You moaned, struggling to keep your eyes open.  

“I want you, please!” you begged, unbuckling his belt as he watched your every move. 

“I can’t believe I get to have you now,” he says. 

“What do you mean?” You stop to look at him, arms around his neck. 

He puts his arm around your waist, picking you up slightly to get rid of his pants and boxers, “you’re the only fucking person I’ve ever wanted,” he says, whispering your name right after, eyes on your dress strap which slid down your shoulder, “tell me what you want, baby.”

Every word he spoke, every sound he made, it all caused an influx of this feeling in your chest—your heart raced, butterflies erupting into a wild fashion as your face heated up with the depth of this situation. 

“You. All of you,” you answered in a beat, “I can’t wait anymore, I can’t stop thinking about you, Sunghoon,” you said. 

“You don’t have to,” he whispered, kissing a sensitive spot below your ear, “don’t fucking stop, kitten,” he mumbled as he licked your neck, his fingers pulling your panties to the side simultaneously, pressing them to your wetness. 

You held onto his shoulders as he rubbed your sensitive folds, his cock poking at your entrance alongside, “such pretty moans,” he groaned, feeling you being a mess in his arms, “all for me?” 

“All for y—you!” Your words came out in fragments, legs shaking as he pushed his fingers inside you, your back arching into him yet again. His lips were busy planting kisses all over your tits, ensuring not to leave a single spot, pushing your dress down to reveal every bit of you.  

Sunghoon was a patient person, but not when it came to you. You were driving him insane with just how vulnerable and needy you appeared to be in his arms, his eyes fixated on how your chest rose up and down, his own sweat making his hair stick to his forehead, your breaths intertwining as he plunged his fingers harder into you.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, strong enough to leave crescent marks, the sound of your low moans, his grunted murmurs, and the deep breaths interfolded impeccably with the music playing on the radio, reverberating through the car. 

Once he felt like you were prepped enough, dripping on his fingers, he swiftly pulled you up, pressing his lips upon yours as he pushed you down on his cock, your walls clenching around his length, the stretch too pleasurable for it to hurt you. 

Your fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt, scrunching it up as to support yourself against his body, each touch of his igniting your senses. His muscles tensed beneath your touch as your hand unbuttoned his shirt, the cold of your hand juxtaposing the warmth radiating his body.

“You’re not real,” he mused, mesmerized, “so fucking pretty, taking my cock like that.” Sunghoon knew he was far gone when it concerned you, but now that you were actually here, closer to him than ever, he couldn’t help but let his mouth run loose to tell you just how stunning you were. 

“You’re mine tonight, huh?” 

“So—so fucking yours,” you moaned. 

He scoffed, grabbing your jaw to make you look at him, “say it, clearly.” 

“I’m so fucking yours Sunghoon,” you gasped, feeling him twitch hard inside of you. 

“That’s it, that’s my good little kitty,” he chuckled against your mouth, kissing your swollen lips yet again. 

You both muttered a string of curses before you started shifting your hips, his hands on your waist guiding you up and down, eyes closing but he was quick to grab your neck, “look at me when I fuck you,” he said, bucking his hips up to meet yours. 

He loved how you looked, hair messy, lips swollen and eyes slightly teary as you tried to form coherent sentences but failed miserably, all of which Sunghoon loved. 

You were just as gone for him as he was for you. 

“Can you feel what you’re doing to me?” He asked, taking your hand and pressing it to your lower abdomen where you could feel the bulge of his cock sliding in and out effortlessly, given how wet you were, practically dripping all over his lap and the car seat, something that the rental company wouldn’t really appreciate but that was the least of your worries. 

“Gonna make you scream my name till the windows fog up with your desperation,” he rasped near your ear and you couldn’t function anymore, not when the hottest man ever had you spiralling for him.  

“Sunghoon, H—hoon!” Your voice got louder as you did exactly what he had promised you’d do, making him chuckle against your neck, nipping on the skin with the intentions of leaving marks, his marks, “slow, please!”

You were lying to yourself by now, you didn’t want him to be slow, you just weren’t sure how much you can take before you lose the final string of your sanity—if there’s any left, that is. 

“God,” Sunghoon mumbled, “slow? I’ll fuck you hard enough you’ll feel me in your cunt for days, kitten.”

“Fucking hell, I—I’m close,” you moaned, your nails digging into his shoulder. 

“Let go, baby,” he said, groaning as he felt your juices coating his dick, your moans louder than before, eyes closed and his name like a mantra on your lips. 

He grunted, rubbing your clit as he slid out of your pussy, stroking his cock until he spilled his cum all over your inner thigh. 

“I’m not done with you yet,” he breathed out, “not so quick.” 

You were fucked, quite literally. He kissed you, once, twice, and again till he was moaning in your mouth, so dazed he could barely function for a minute when you tried catching your breath. 

He helped you get into your seat again, not even bothering to put his shirt on as he drove back, jaw clenched, your eyes on him the entire time, pussy tingling as his hand squeezed your thigh every two seconds. 

And he didn’t lie, his movements were more frantic than ever as he drove back to the hotel with record speed, making sure to stay and help you look presentable, the small touches of him all over your face made you feel an feeling which you couldn’t quite name, it was indescribable, but you knew it gave you butterflies. 

And you wondered how this guy who fucked you so roughly not even ten minutes back could also be this sweet and caring, kissing you every chance he got. 

You giggled as you ran into the elevator, a smile gracing his own face at your giddy mood, “I don’t want this night to end,” he confessed. 

“It won’t end just yet,” you said, taking out your room card and opening the door, which he closed equally soon as he pushed you against the wood. 

He looked perfect, swollen red lips, shirt barely buttoned, hair all over the place, and eyes so shiny as if he held a whole universe in them, or maybe that was just your reflection. 

“Kitten,” he sighed, “let me taste you,” he requested. 

You looked at him with teasing eyes, a smile of the same fashion gracing your face as you went on, unzipping your dress and moving towards your bed while facing Sunghoon, letting the dress fall along with your underwear, uncovering your bare body to him, as if offering the last morsel of meal to a hungry man. 

He unbuttoned his shirt, discarding all his garments. You could finally see him in light, his eyes hooded, body sculpted by the gods themselves, the v-line and his big cock making you gulp as you remembered how good he felt inside you. 

“Get on the bed,” he ordered you, to which you obliged. 

“God, such a good little girl for me, spread your pretty legs and let me see you, baby,” he spoke, getting in between your legs, his chain dangling down. 

The nickname made you shiver, Park Sunghoon made you feel weak, in all the best ways, the way he kissed your thighs, inching closer to your inner thighs, so close to your core which was still wet, all of this made you breathless. 

A pathetic whine of Sunghoon’s name slipped past your lips the exact second he licked your pussy, his big hands keeping your legs open, “eyes on me,” he spoke against your wetness, humming at the taste. 

He wastes no time in immersing his tongue into your pussy, licking and sucking as you panted, thighs shaking, his tongue tracing your vulva, groans vibrating against your folds, your hips bucking up into his mouth as he delved deeper, pushing his tongue into you. 

Your soft folds made him growl, nuzzling closer. Nothing was enough, he couldn’t get enough of you, even the scent of your arousal had his cock twitching, it was harder than ever, almost painful at this point, his nose nuzzling deeper, brushing against your heat. 

“H—hoon,” you cried, a tear streaming down your face, your fingers tugging on his hair, which only urged him to growl more into your cunt. 

It was so raw, so filthy. 

You feel ecstatic as his thumb probes at your narrow depths, stimulating your clit while he pushes his tongue in, “want you so much,” he spoke against you. 

“Hoon! Please, can’t wait anymore,” you said, pussy swollen and you needed his cock inside you. 

“So needy, and for me?” He asked cockily. 

“Y—yes! Please,” you begged. 

“How can I say no when you ask so nicely?” He comes up, kissing you, making you taste yourself on his tongue.

His chain dangled around your collarbone, his intense gaze focused on your expressions as he pumped his cock a few times, his tip on your entrance. 

He spit into your mouth, diving right in to kiss and capture your moan.

He pushed himself in with a swift movement, bottoming out. He asked if you felt fine, giving you time to adjust, he moved in and out of you swiftly, body pressed against your warm one, his each thrust getting deeper with the roll of his hips. 

You could swear you had never felt this way before, he hit your g-spot so precisely, and the feeling of him being inside you, all raw and thick, made you mewl with pleasure. 

“You look so pretty,” he groaned, licking your neck where he had just marked you, “falling apart on my cock like that.”

Your toes curled each time he opened his mouth to whisper something filthy into your ear, making your head spin in a good way. 

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, your fucked out face, swollen lips and the innocent eyes begging him to go faster made it harder for him to hold back. He, in fact, didn't wish to hold back anymore.

He thrusted in harder, squeezing your tit as you cried out his name, your walls clenching around him, making his length twitch as his fingers dug into your ass, pulling you closer, your tits pressed against his chest, his eyes wild and desperate. 

“Can’t get enough of you, it’s like your body was made for me,” he smirked lazily, fangs showing as you told him how you can’t wait any longer, you can’t hold back any longer. 

He was just as desperate, not being able to hold his dick twitching in you with a need to release. 

“Cum in me!” You moaned out. 

That drove him over the edge. You filled with his cum? His warmth dripping out of your soft little cunt? Fuck, he could burst his load right into you but he needed you to be completely, truly okay with it. 

“Y/N, are you sure?” He asked, cupping your face, leaning in to brush his nose against yours, foreheads pressed as he breathed in deeply to control himself, just like you, a different kind of warmth spreading through your body. 

He had never done that before, neither had you, however, you wanted nothing more than to experience it for the first time and you wanted it with each other. 

You nodded, “yes—yes please,” before he pushed his cock harder, as you rutted your hips absentmindedly to ride out your high.

The room smelled like sex, the mist clouding it as your sounds resonated the walls, you didn’t even try to conceal your voices anymore, the dim lights only made the atmosphere hotter. 

“Oh, fuck!” He grunted. 

Your orgasm ripped through you as you pulled his nape closer for his lips to be on yours, his own climax rushing as you felt the warming sensation of Sunghoon’s cum filling your cunt up to the brim. 

You both stilled, taking deep breaths and coming down from your state of euphoria, gulping as you saw him looking right at you. 

“C’mere,” he said softly, getting up and watching his cum dripping down on your sheets, gulping as the tip of his ears getting red. 

You couldn’t get up, only looking up at Hoon with teary eyes, he swore you looked like a broken puppy to him, which only made him wanna scoop you up in his arms, his muscles flexing yet again as he held you up, kissing the corner of your eye, tasting the salty tear that escaped, courtesy of his cock which provided you with the best orgasm of your life. 

“Fuck—ah,” you whimpered, only boosting his ego.

You couldn’t walk, he made it happen. 

Which made it his duty to take care of you, biting down on his smile, he chuckled, making you groan and slap his shoulder, only causing him to laugh without hesitation this time, you swore it was the prettiest laugh ever. 

“You alright, love?” He asked, eyes shining as you nodded, both walking towards the bathroom.  

“God—don’t say that,” you mumbled, shyness creeping through. 

“What? My love?” He said again, smiling as he emphasized again. 

“Hoonie,” you warned and he only kissed you again, before you pushed him playfully, stepping into the shower, barely holding yourself up. 

“Need help, princess?” He asked, eyebrows raised as he stared at your body, and you gave him a look, almost surprised to see him getting hard again. 

Oh boy, was he crazy for you. 

“In the shower?” You raised your own brows. 

“Well, I fear if I was the one who filled you up with my cum, I should be the one to help you clean it,” he whispered, getting into the shower, closing the glass door behind him, sneaking his hand up your waist. 

“You’re crazy,” you said, looking up at him with a grin which you did try hard to conceal. 

“Hey, it also helps us save water,” he added, smile widening, before he leaned in, lips on your neck, as you felt the warmth of the water cascading down your bodies. 

“Missed this?” He asked, shoving his hand between your legs, “god, you’re so full of my cum,” he chuckled proudly as you shivered in his arms. 

Sunghoon wasn’t usually this confident, however, seeing you breathless, whimpering and asking for more even though he had just destroyed your cunt was doing something to him, he couldn’t help but admire the sight—something he’d never get used to. 

He was gonna get what he’s wanted all along, once wasn’t enough, even a thousand times won’t be enough, he wanted you for the course of his lifetime, eerily romantic thought for someone who was fucking the girl of his dreams in a shower. Lovely. 

You pulled him in for another rushed kiss, feeling him smirk against you, chasing your lips as you tried to move back in hopes of whining, but he was greedy enough to grab your nape, greedy enough to swallow all your moans, keeping it for himself. 

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, fingers teasing your cunt, or what he’d like to say, cleaning your cunt which he so nastily claimed, “not clean enough, hm? I think we’ll have to use a deeper approach.”

“You’re fucking crazy,” you panted, his cock lining up against your wet cunt, and you could only look up at him. 

His hair sticking to his forehead, water droplets dripping down his face to your cheek, steam fogging up the glass door as you tried to keep yourself up on the slick tiled surface, his muscles flexing as his veiny hand held you up, his grunt loud as he pushed himself into you yet again tonight. 

His thrusts were languid as you tried your hardest to breathe, his head leaning down, with his mouth open, practically breathing you. 

“I fucked you so hard and yet you’re so fucking tight,” he grunted, “god—baby, you feel so fucking good,” he muttered. “So fucking good—fucking perfect—mine.”

“Yours,” you mewled out, eyes closing with each of his hard thrust. 

Lasting long wasn’t an option, not when you were this close to reaching euphoria, but it was different this time, and you feared what might happen if he went on like this. His cock was so thick, also the biggest you’d ever taken, to the point you could feel its bulge on your lower abdomen.  

“Can’t—can’t anymore,” you stuttered, legs shivering to the point your knees gave out and Hoon held you up with ease. 

“Doing so good for me baby, let go, hm? Be a good little slut for me,” he rasped. 

That tumbled you over the edge, your eyes rolling back as you let out the loudest moan of Sunghoon’s name, thighs shaking as a jet of liquid gushed out of your quivering slit, surprising the boy who let out a groan, filling your cunt again as you squirting all over his cock, the sensation overwhelming you to the point your body almost fell limp in his arms, panting harshly as Sunghoon moaned. 

“Did you just—” 

“I didn’t—know I could,” you mumbled, hiding your face in his neck, embarrassment creeping through. 

He breathed in deeply, kissing you again, “that was the hottest fucking thing you could have done, baby” he mumbled against your lips, “you’re perfect, you did so well for me, you’re my good girl.”

Sunghoon barely held himself up, the way you reacted to him, the way you looked when you let yourself loose, it was going to be etched in his mind forever. 

It took you both a while to calm down again, and he kissed you all over to do so, soft pecks all over your face, making you smile lazily at his sudden cuteness. He made sure you were clean and helped you shower properly this time before coming out. 

Sunghoon was clingy, absolutely not having it in him to leave your side, observing every move of yours as if trying to memorize every bit of you, even making sure you’re clad in his shirt as you both made your way towards the bed, a soft glow gracing your faces.

“Hey,” he said, getting into the covers with you. 

“Hey,” you turned towards him, still feeling giddy. 

“I can’t believe you’re real,” he said, touching your cheeks softly. 

“Why would you say that?” You asked, keeping your hand on his. 

“Before tonight, I had only ever dreamed of being this close to you, I never thought I’d even get to kiss you,” he spoke. 

“Hoon, I’ve been thinking about you since we met again,” you told him, brushing his hair with your fingers softly, “actually, ever since I got the invite,” you confessed sheepishly. 

That made him smile, “can I ask you something?” 

You hummed, “yes?” 

“Can we, maybe, if you’re okay with it then y’know—” he fumbled with his words, making you laugh, even the slight lisp of his was so perfect. 

“Shh, we’ll talk tomorrow, yeah? Hold me to sleep, Hoonie,” you said, putting your arm around him. 

His heart melted at the sight, and what made him happier was the fact that you didn’t just want him for sex, your smile expressed it all. The thought of you actually liking him back, reciprocating his feelings made his heart beat faster, anticipating a future with you. 

“Good night, baby,” he kissed you, just like last night. However, he kissed your lips tonight, making you giggle softly as you held onto him tighter. 

He stared at you, not being able to hide his smile and wondering how he could ask you out again, especially when it would be easy for him to meet you since you both lived in Seoul. 

The trip was officially over, and you could proudly admit that you loved every second of it. 

Your flight was the same as Jay and Sunghoon’s, courtesy of you living in the same city, in which he couldn’t help but keep his eyes fixed on your seat. He appeared to be a pathetic puppy who couldn’t help but stare at his owner, gone to the point he picked the same movie to watch as you, talk about being a stalker in love. 

Jay was sitting next to Hoon and he desperately wished he could kick Jay out and ask you to be next to him but he managed to behave these few hours. He was happy as long as he could look at your pretty face. 

Both Jay and Karina screamed in shock when Sunghoon kissed you at the airport before leaving for their own apartments, he wasn’t shy about his, almost boasting in a way to show off how you were his, almost. 

A text popped up on your notification panel as soon as you reached your place, still smiling like a madman while answering all the questions Karina threw your way. 

Hoon <3: hey i was wondering if you’d like to go out with me sometime? 

You: as friends?

Hoon <3:  god, baby c’mon 

You: as friends? 🥺

Hoon <3: Y/N what if i kms 

You: as friends? 😁

Hoon <3:  okay, fine 😔 nooo, as something more :(

You: fuckk you’re so cute like a puppy

Hoon <3:  oh

You:  don’t tell me… you like being called that? 

Hoon <3: why don’t you try and say it then the next time i’m deep inside your cunt?

You:  oh fuck

Hoon <3: is that a yes baby?

You:  what if it is? 

Hoon <3: that’ll make me very very happy, princess 

You:  AHAAHDHSJ text me the date and time 😚

You smiled, loving how things had changed from the first time he asked you that question. 

It was indeed a reunion that you could never forget. 

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[tojisteddy]

Phone calls | cw: fluff, age gap (reader mid 20s, John late 30s), part two

John Price who absolutely loves his phone calls with shy!reader.

Your voice is the sweetest thing he’s ever heard, still so small even though you’ve been dating for a couple of months. He loved hearing you talk because when there’s a lot of people you’re as quiet as a mouse, so he lets you ramble on and on about whatever comes to mind for how ever long until you’d try and crawl back in your box again.

“ ‘M sorry, I’m talkin too much, aren’t I?”

“No dove, let me hear more of you, yeah?”

And you’re attentive too, always have a follow up question to any of his stories. Giggles filling his ears when you laugh together. God, it just gave him that perfect burst his aging heart needed every single time.

His favorite thing to do though?

The old man would call your house phone when he’s right outside your flat, leaning on his car and looking up to the 5th floor, right where your apartment is. He’d see your gorgeous silhouette in the curtains, you’d pick up that old yellow rottery phone that you’d gotten from him as a replacement for the one that broke.

“H-Hello?” You’d squeak out, disgustingly cute, twirling the line with your fingers.

“I’m downstairs, thought I’d see your face before I left.”

“Where?” And you’re quick to uncover the blue and white embroidered curtains, revealing yourself on the baloney, curls touching just above your shoulders, only in your damned underwear and a tight top, with your nipples peeking through. If he told you about the way you’d look right now, you’d leap out of your skin.

But John just loved how he was the only thing on your mind when he called. Your big brown eyes searching the street for the bearded man, and he’s right there. Giving you a wave with a smirk he just can not hide.

“Hi John,” youre breathless through the phone, love sick on that dream boat of a man.

“You’re fuckin gorgeous love, always so beautiful.”

You yanked the phone away, hiding your face with your curls as you squealed, stomping around cute as ever. John could so easily get you all flustered, you peek down at him and he’s tapping his phone, listen.

You put the phone to your ear again, “Don’t have long. Just wanted to see your face.”

And it’s clock work, John would tease you every time he wanted to see you by threatening to leave. As if he wouldn’t climb up the damn apartment with his bare hands like you were fuckin Rapunzel. But you’d believe him every time, eyes widening and mouth opening and closing, words fighting to get out.

He’d get your heart pumping even more as he turned to his car, “I-I- dont you wanna come up John? Just for a tea?”

He turns, to look back at you, eyebrow raised, he hums, “Not sure love, gotta be up early.”

“It’ll be five minutes! I swear John.” And your pretty bottom lip is out, pouting— the man couldn’t resist you for long.

It wouldn’t be five minutes, it never was, just as the older man had planned. He’d agree, just for tea, with a grin. Practically zooming through your complex to get to you and taking you in his arms.

His sweet girl.

It couldn’t get any better than you.

a/n: did I write this cause I haven’t done a proper part two to a certain price fic? Well— but this was fun!!

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[sixeyesonathiel]

satoru absolutely baby talks you when you’re sick.

not in a mocking way. no. this is full-blown softie satoru, disgusting levels of wife guy activated, baby voice on max, coddling you like you’re the most precious, fragile little thing in the universe—and not because he thinks you’re weak, but because it’s the one time you let him get away with it without putting up your usual walls.

because you’re sick. hot forehead, flushed cheeks, big watery eyes that blink up at him like you’re seeing god—or worse, like you might actually cry if he leaves the room. like you need him. and honestly? that does something to him. wrecks him, even.

and you do need him. you’re fevered, shivering, curled up in bed in one of his oversized shirts, your hair a mess, nose stuffy, brain thoroughly fried. your fingers twitch like you want to reach for him but can’t be bothered to try, lips parted in a weak sigh as you breathe through your mouth. your usual bratty, mouthy, too-proud-for-help self? gone. obliterated. absolutely bulldozed by the flu. all that’s left is a miserable little lump of a wife who clings to his sleeve like a koala and mumbles, “’toru… i feel like a soggy towel…”

his whole body stills. there’s a twitch in his brow, like his heart has physically clenched. his lips part, just a little, before curling up in the softest grin. eyes soften behind pale lashes—just a hint of red at the corners from how tired he is too—but none of that matters. not when you’re looking up at him like that. the corner of his mouth tugs upward, not in amusement—but in something far gentler. reverent, even. and then god. he melts. instantly. his heart shatters into a million pieces and reforms just to explode again.

“awww, my poor widdle baby,” he coos, already pressing a kiss to your damp forehead. his breath is warm, his nose brushing yours. “does my soggy towel need her soup? wanna be spoon-fed by the hottest nurse in the world?”

you don’t even roll your eyes. you nod. actually nod. sluggish, dazed. and then flop into his arms like dead weight, forehead nudging his neck, skin hot against his collarbone. you let him hold you like you’re made of glass.

he almost cries. really. because you’re letting yourself be coddled. cuddled. taken care of. no sass. no biting remarks. just tiny, pitiful sniffles and pouty faces and your arms wrapping around his waist like he’s your anchor. like you don’t want him to go anywhere. like you can’t function without him.

and satoru eats that up like it’s a feast.

“you want juice, angel? how about some water? apple slices? forehead kisses every ten minutes? medicine with a kiss as a chaser?”

“mmm… apple. but peeled…” you whisper, voice small and hoarse, eyes half-lidded and glossy.

“of course, peeled! only the finest fruits for my fevered little dumpling,” he gasps, hand dramatically on his chest like he’s been knighted for a sacred quest. there’s a shine in his eyes—something starry, something stupidly in love.

he tucks you in like a burrito, tugs the blankets up to your chin, and then scoops you onto his lap because apparently that’s where you sleep best. his fingers comb through your hair, slow and tender, while your cheek rests limp against his shirt. he puts on your comfort show, even though you barely keep your eyes open long enough to register the sound.

he hums something soft—tuneless and low—while cradling you like a fevered woodland creature. his tone dips lower when he leans in again.

“do you still love me even if i’m gross and sweaty and my nose is red?” you mumble, lips wobbling, brows pinched like the thought genuinely upsets you.

his hand smooths along your cheek. “i love you way more,” he says instantly. “you’re my sweaty, sniffly soulmate. cutest germ gremlin i’ve ever seen.”

“you’re lying…”

“baby, i would kiss your snotty nose right now if you asked.”

there’s something almost reverent in the way he says it—like it’s a vow. and he means it. he’d do it without hesitation, wouldn’t even flinch. because if it’s you, there’s no such thing as gross. not when he’s this stupidly in love. not when every part of you, even at your messiest, makes him want to wrap you up in his arms and never let go.

you groan into his shirt, muffled and pitiful, and he grins like you just serenaded him.

“who’s the most handsome man in the world?” he asks out of nowhere, fingers curling behind your ear, brushing tenderly as if coaxing the answer out. his voice dips low, honey-sweet and just a little smug. not because he expects the answer—no, he needs it. his entire self-worth depends on your silly little validation right now.

“you are,” you mumble, cheeks squished slightly against his chest, nuzzling closer without shame.

his fingers twitch where they cradle your skull. his whole face lights up like a sunrise. pale lashes flutter, and his pupils dilate like he’s just been told he won a lifetime supply of you.

“louder.”

“toruuuuu… it’s you…”

the pleased little noise he makes is downright sinful. his lashes flutter shut as he closes his eyes in smug bliss, and he tilts his head back like he’s soaking in the warmth of your praise. if he had a tail, it would be wagging.

“that’s right,” he beams, practically preening, fingers now stroking under your chin. “say it again. for my health.”

“you’re the handsomest… in the whole world… even when your hair’s stupid…”

he gasps, clutching his chest with a hand like you just shot cupid’s arrow straight through it. “rude and true. i’ll take it.”

his heart is doing somersaults. he’s convinced there’s never been a more fulfilling moment in his life. not the promotions, not the accolades, not even the recognition. just this—this feverish little version of you, croaky and honest and too tired to pretend you’re not as in love with him as he is with you.

he whispers the dumbest, softest shit while holding you against his chest like you’re something sacred. calls you every pet name in the book and then invents new ones on the spot: baby, sweetheart, princess, dumpling, snugglebug, fever bean, coughy cake, angel face mcsweats-a-lot.

you blink up at him between fits of sleep, lips parted like you want to say something else—but all that comes out is a pathetic little whimper. his hand smooths over your spine again, touch featherlight.

“what was that, baby?” he whispers.

“love you…” you murmur, eyes falling shut.

his heart flips. flips, spirals, and lands in a fucking somersault.

he kisses your temple and you go quiet.

and when you finally pass out, nose smooshed into his collarbone, snoring faintly like the most adorable little gremlin, he exhales like it’s the best moment of his life. like the universe aligned just for this. like his purpose has been fulfilled. his hand never stops moving—stroking your spine, combing your hair, tracing shapes into your shoulder blade beneath the fabric of his shirt.

he lives for clingy, soft, unguarded sick-you. because even though he adores the bratty, sharp-tongued, little menace version of you that picks fights and flicks him on the forehead and makes him earn every kiss—this version? this sleepy, dependent little furnace wrapped in blankets and his love? she needs him.

and satoru loves being needed. loves being the one you reach for, even when you’re half-delirious. especially when you’re half-delirious.

he leans down again, voice barely audible now.

“rest up, baby,” he whispers, brushing your hair from your clammy forehead. “you’ll feel better soon. and then i’ll go back to being emotionally bullied by my beloved wife.”

[littlemisskookie]

See You Like That

See You Like That Ship: Childhood Frenemy/Roommate!Jungkook x Bitch!Reader Description: Your entire life, you only saw Jeon Jungkook as a nuisance you couldn’t escape from. But what happens after the two of you move in together, and the dreams that plague you force you to see him in a different light? Warnings: Extremely Mean Hard Dom!Jungkook, BDSM, Brat!Reader, Masochist!Reader, Sadist!Jungkook, Dub-Con, Extreme Face-Fucking, Oral (m. & f. receiving), Extreme Degradation, Extreme Humiliation, Facial, Face-Fucking Again (a different sort of way), Rimming (f. receiving), Dirty Talk, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Sex Scenes, Like these scenes are actually crazy, Slapping, Spanking, Fingering, Pussy-Slapping, Spit, Rough Sex, Praise, Choking, Manhandling, Restraining, Hate Sex, Angry Sex, Possessiveness, Masturbation, Sex-Toys, Squirting, Dacryphilia, Hair Pulling, Jungkook has a HUUUUUGE Cawhk, Threesome? (Ft. Taehyung), Reader is a bitch because I love them Word Count: 30.3k A/N: This was an absolute monster to write, but it had to be done.

The first 11 days of your life were absolutely glorious.

You slept as much as you want, ate as much as you want, basked in the light of your mother's arms without a care in the world. They were probably the best days of your life, not that you could remember them. Nothing threatened to disturb your peace.

And then Jeon Jungkook came along.

Oh, both of your mothers were absolutely thrilled. Having been life-long best friends, they had every intention of staying together until their dying days. They meant it, too. Living next door to each other, getting pregnant within the next year— though that part was much closer together than originally anticipated. Luck is what they assumed.

When both had a bundle of joy to call their own, who they planned to raise together, they were elated beyond belief. 

"They're going to be the best of friends, forever and ever, just like us!"

Ha. Little did they know.

Sure, you got along with Jungkook when you were little kids. The two of you would take baths in the same sink together as infants, attended the same preschool. He would be the one who yanked you off school bullies during recess, dragging you off as your fists flew towards whatever boy had been picking on him. He was your partner during every field day, without even having to ask.

But then some form of resentment grew.

Jungkook was always the golden child of you two. Never got into fights, always got straight A's, never got sent to the principal's office. You, on the other hand, always found yourself in some sort of trouble. You couldn't help but always say the wrong thing, or find yourself in the wrong place, wrong time. And who was the one who always had to drag you out? Golden Boy Jeon Jungkook. Despite being almost two weeks younger than you, he ended up being the one mainly in charge, he ended up being the responsible one, he was the one who had to look out for you. It was supposed to be the other way around! What about that bullshit saying that women matured faster than men?

Somehow you proved the be the exception, and having Jungkook always come to your rescue made you absolutely livid as the years went on.

"I don't need your help!" God, how many times had you screamed those words at him?

Suddenly he was the one you were letting your anger out on, with your angry quips and quick insults. Didn't help that you knew him inside and out, having grown up with him. At first he'd just take it, letting you blow your fuse and get it out of your system. But then he started throwing punches back. Not literal ones, no, it never got to that level. But he'd have something sharp to say to cut you down when you were making your own attempts, no longer silently taking the full force that was your rage at both him and yourself.

The worst part though was he never left either.

You were stuck together, whether either of you liked it or not. He probably wanted to leave you a million times by then, but due to the pressure of your parents, you were now his responsibility. Always in the same classes, always enrolled at the same summer camps. Living twenty feet away from each other. There was no escape. You and Jungkook were going to a part of each other's lives forever it looked like, and there was nothing you could do about it. So every day you'd walk together from school. Every weekend your parents would have a joint dinner together. Every family vacation, every cruise, the two of you were forced to share a room.

Your parents thought you'd both grow out of this festering resentment. Eventually they accepted that it was simply some sort of sibling dynamic. Sure, you guys bickered constantly, you both swore you couldn't stand each other's guts, but you both still cared. You couldn't help it. You hadn't known a life without Jungkook, and he didn't know a life without you. It was hard to imagine. No matter what happened between you two, you guys never left each other's sides.

You were finally able to gain some distance when you both went off to college. Granted, it was the same one, the only one close enough and affordable enough for your family, and Jungkook had gotten a full ride there, so it was no brainer. But you didn't live in the same dorms, and you were able to make separate friends who didn't know you two as being practically conjoined twins. You had gotten sick of hearing it in the hallways.

"Oh she's basically his sister!" That's what so many would say when they questioned why the two of you were so close. You couldn't stand it. It was bad enough being tied to him so closely already, the thought of actually being related made you want to barf.

You did imagine however that Jungkook was the closest you'd ever get to a brother. He was protective at the most annoying and inconvenient times, like when he insisted on following you to your first house party and refused to let you drink or take a hit of anything. He was super annoying, like when he gloated over his college entrance exams and their scores, rubbing in your face just how much better he was than you, at everything, always. Just another thing to add to the list of things you hated about him.

When the two of you entered university, though, you finally let your wings spread. No more being forced to go to his lacrosse games. No more cramped car rides in the backseat where both of you would stomp on each other's toes and try to get more leg room. You were independent of him. You could do what you want, when you want, and Jungkook didn't have a single say.

Sure, you went a little wild your freshman year. Stayed out until 3-4 AM almost every night, spent many nights in guys' dorms, got a little too wasted at some parties and experienced a black out or two. But they was your lessons to learn, and no one was keeping you from learning them. You kept yourself moderately in check though. No bar fights, no spats with your professors. You couldn't care less what Jungkook was doing. Little nerd was probably skipping any party he was invited to, nose probably buried in his books. Mr. Perfect probably had too much school work to worry about you, either. Didn't matter how many tattoos he used to fill his new sleeve over the years, he was just as uncool as when he threw up in the touch tank during a summer camp field trip.

After you cleaned up your act a little more as university went on, getting the last late nights and parties out of your system, you had to work a little harder to bring your GPA up to par. You hadn't been flunking your classes first year or anything, but you had too many C's for your liking. If Jungkook were still hovering over your shoulder, he'd probably smack you on your head and force you to read the textbook front to back until you set the curve.

You'd see Jungkook in the library occasionally. He was never alone, always with friends. Go figure. Everyone just loooooved Jungkook his entire life. Those stupid big eyes and bunny teeth always made them suckers. He was always popular, getting along with everyone, gentlemanly and one of the bros, even in high school. You were the only one who saw past his facade, saw how nasty he could truly be. The real him.

No matter how much time had passed, you knew he was a resentful little snot underneath.

Neither of you would disturb each other's peace, though. You'd just share glances when you were both in the dining hall, or grunt when you passed by in the hallways. When each summer came around you'd both be too busy with your new groups of friends for your parents to even drag you back together, only the occasional family dinner forcing you at the same table. You two would barely acknowledge each other during it, your respective families filling the other in on the other's lives.

Jungkook made Dean's list. Big surprise.

You had a trip with a few girls during spring break. Big whoop.

You did your best to keep it to a minimal. The few words you did exchange alone were biting at best. You were enjoying your freedom from his annoying face, endless charisma, and perfect grades.

But then university came to an end, and both of you found yourselves moving back to your home town. 

It was another dinner with your folks and his, and you were pretty sick of still having to live with your parents. After living separately from them for four years, something felt a little humiliating about being back under their roof. Sure, you could get an apartment, but it was so expensive in this area. You definitely weren't being paid enough to live on your own with your entry-level job, even at the apartments in the shadier areas.

"How's the apartment hunting going, sweetie?" Jungkook's mom asked, a saccharine smile on her lips. Joint dinners were something you were forced to go to again, now that you were back. Which meant having to see him a minimum of every weekend.

You shrugged, nudging at the piece of meat on your plate with your fork. "I dunno. I looked at another in Frazier—"

His mother gasped. "Frazier! Oh honey, no! You can't live there, that's such a bad part of town. You know, crime's gotten much worse since you kids have been gone. A young lady like yourself shouldn't be living there alone." As if a lightbulb went off in her head, her eyes danced to Jungkook, who was busy devouring the steak your dad had helped cook. "Say, Kook, sweetheart, how's your search been going?"

"Hm?" He did his best to swallow down whatever meat was still in his mouth. You dipped your spoon in the peas, eating them and you prepared for him to drone on about whatever success he inevitably found. "It's, uh, hard. Not a lot of studio apartments that are exactly affordable."

No surprise there.

While you had immediately entered the main workforce for a low tier job after graduation, Jungkook had moved up to continuing grad school, which meant he only had the availability for part-time. It wasn't a surprise he was strapped for cash. 

"Say," your dad started, "I have an idea."

Oh no. Oh no no no. You knew exactly where this was leading.

"What if Y/N and Jungkook get an apartment together?"

No!

Your mother clapped her hands, eyes lit up with delight at the prospect. "Oh that sounds like a wonderful idea! It'd be perfect. I normally wouldn't be a fan of the idea of Y/N living with a man, but Jungkook—"

"Mom," you choked on your peas, slamming your fist down on your chest to try and get them to go down. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Oh hush now, you've been complaining for months about having to live with us. Besides, Jungkook can keep an eye on you and make sure you're not up to any trouble," your mother scolded.

"This would be perfect! You two can split the rent. Much better than living with strangers," his mother joined in. Clearly their minds were already made up.

You glanced to Jungkook, eyes pleading for once as you waited for his disapproval. He ignored you, though, shrugging before taking another bite of steak. "Sure. We can talk about it alone later."

You wanted your chair to sink into the Earth and swallow you whole, then and there.

—

Jungkook closed the door to his childhood bedroom, hands in his pockets as he turned to you. Dinner had been at his parents' tonight, with your dads grilling the steaks and your moms picking out the wine. Your eyes scoured the room you were all too familiar with, the same old lacrosse posters and gaming equipment you were used to. You wanted to find some form of mess. An open ramen cup, strewn about clothes, anything to give you an excuse that living with Jeon Jungkook was an impossible, terrible proposition. Perfect as he was though, everything was clean as a whistle, far more organized than your own abode.

"This is a terrible idea, isn't it? We should just go down there and tell them we absolutely cannot, right?" You laughed it away, glancing to Jungkook for confirmation.

He doesn't seem so amused, though. "I dunno. I've been looking to move out for a while, honestly."

Your eyes widened with disbelief. "You aren't seriously considering this, are you?"

"Why not? It seems practical," he shrugged.  A sly grin started to form on his lips. "Don't tell me you're scared of living with a man, Y/N."

Your face twisted into a scowl. "Ugh, I can't stand you. You're hardly a man, anyways. I mean, c'mon, space themed comforter? Really?"

"You still have those glowing star stickers on your ceiling."

"Those—" You snap your fingers at him, taking a step closer. "—are for nostalgia."

"And mine aren't?"

"We can't even stand being in the same room together for five minutes!" You feel yourself regressing back into a teenager, as though you were on fire whenever Jungkook was in your vicinity. "How're we supposed to live together in a tiny, cramped apartment?"

"What, you can't even pretend to act like an adult?" He quirked a condescending brow at you.

You felt your face heat up at his words. "I can." You crossed your arms, groveling. "Are you just desperate to live with me all of the sudden?"

He scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself, princess. I just don't want to live with a stranger. My first dorm I got randomly assigned a roommate, and it did not go well. At least I know there aren't any surprises that come with you."

Your jaw dropped. "You really are considering this."

His tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, his arms crossing too, now. "Are you?"

Your mind spun as you gave it some serious thought. Jungkook was definitely a lot cleaner than most men you knew. And he typically was lights out by midnight, which meant no keeping you up, and you knew he was a heavy enough sleeper for you to be able to roam about in the late hours without waking him up. Hell, with him being an early riser and you being a night owl, you might hardly see each other. Besides, it's been years since the two of you would constantly go at it. More than now. Maybe you could mature into being civilized, well mannered adults. Mainly you, but still.

"Lets set up some ground rules first," you said. "No messes in shared spaces."

"Duh."

"And no leaving the bathroom seat up!" No doubt that the best you two could afford would be a two bedroom, one bathroom situation.

"Fine." Jungkook tilted his head. "Any other requests, princess?"

You glowered at the stupid pet name, wanting to wither him on the spot with your glare. "How often do you bring people over?"

A slow smile curls on his lips again. "Oh, well isn't that personal?"

"Ew not like that! Ugh, I don't even want to think about you doing that." You shook the thought from your head. "How often do you have friends over?"

The smile was still plastered on his face. "Oh, none spend the night if that's what your worried about. And we'll keep it down."

"Your friends," you emphasized.

"I was talking about my friends." He laughed at your expression. "You should get your mind out of the gutter."

Your mouth parted in surprise. "I wasn't— oh my god, you're so infuriating! Just don't have your friends yelling in the living room past 1 AM, got it? I will have no problem shouting at them to keep it down." You rolled your eyes. "Like a nerd like you gets laid anyways."

"Are you worried now?"

You guffaw at the accusation. "Me? Worried? For what, you? Please. You ended up having to take me to homecoming, remember?"

"Yeah, because our parents wanted us too. It's not like I wasn't asked." That was news to you. "And how often are you planning to bring people over?"

"Occasionally."

"Then you make sure they keep it down by 11 PM, and we'll have no problem."

Your brows furrowed. "11? Even on weekends? I was being generous with you, old man. What, don't tell me you fall asleep at 9 usually?"

"Calling me old when you're the older one?" He laughed. "That's right, I forget with how childish you act."

That really made your face burn. You slap the wall next to you, frustrated. "You make it so hard to like you sometimes."

"The feeling's mutual." He meets your gaze, eyes narrowed. "Think you're up for acting like an adult for once in your life? Or do you still want to be coddled by Mommy and Daddy?"

You glared at him, the scowl now permanently etched on your face as your hand slid down the wall. "Fine," you huffed. "Let's do this."

— 

Finding an apartment ended up being much easier now that you were going off of two budgets. Sure, most of the realtors that were helping you thought you two were a couple, and you were both adamant and offended each time you were accused. That was annoying. Plus you'd bicker like a married couple the entire process. This area isn't safe enough for him, this apartment was too far of a commute for you, so on and so forth. 

Finally, though, the two of you came to an agreement on a nice two bedroom, one bathroom apartment. It wasn't the biggest, and you'd have absolutely no luck avoiding Jungkook in these cramped quarters, but it was affordable and got you out of your parents' place at least. It had a gym facility for Jungkook to apparently use, and it was very close to a convenience shop, which you liked.

Living with Jungkook had some ups and downs. You had to spend more on groceries now because Jungkook ate like it was a competition, and yet he still had the nerve to scold you when you stole some of his snacks. He shouldn't need the sweets anyways, with how often he was apparently at the gym downstairs. If anything you were looking out for him by making sure he doesn't undo whatever progress he's making. One plus was that he was a neat freak. Anything you left in the living room would end up being organized neatly, and he had a much better eye for interior decoration than you would've suspected looking at his childhood bedroom. 

Living with a man wasn't all that bad.

Until you were reminded he was a man.

He came back into the apartment, grunting when he saw you on your laptop at the kitchen counter. You didn't even grunt back a response, glancing at him briefly before you were left taken aback.

Jungkook had just gotten back from the gym, drenched in sweat and wearing a tight, black compression shirt that left little to the imagination. When had he gotten so buff? He usually only wore hoodies in the house, how had you not noticed? You remembered being so annoyed when his growth spurt hit and he began to tower over you, but now he was... wider. His shoulders were broad and his waist narrow. It was as though he were shaped like a Dorito chip. The shirt was damn sinful, too. You could practically make out every muscle and line of his abs. Since when had he had tits? They were massive! Surely the shirt was doing all the work. Surely he wasn't built like a pro boxer. You had seen him during countless family trips to the beach. Even when he was at his most active at lacrosse in high school, he was a skinny twerp that could barely hold you up enough to throw you into the water, ruining your hair.

And the sweat. The way his hair was plastered to his forehead, the beads of sweat trickling down his neck and into the shirt. His biceps that seemed too big to be contained by such tiny material, bulging and tensing as he raised the water bottle to his lips and took greedy gulps, Adam's apple bobbing up and down his throat. 

Thank God he was wearing sweats at least, because now you were wondering if his thighs were secretly the size of tree trunks, threatening to squeeze and pop whatever was in between. Since when had his body transformed into being exactly your type?

It suddenly dawned on you that Jungkook was, in fact, possibly attractive. Not that you were attracted to him personally, no way.

"Why're you so quiet?"

You're snapped out of your trance, your eyes flitting back to Jungkook's as he gives you a suspicious glare, done with his water.

"Oh, um..." That's right, you usually had some nasty comment to say whenever he got back home. "B-Back from the gym?"

"Obviously," he snorted, stepping forward to lean against the countertop, sliding away his water bottle. Fuck, don't look at his tits again, don't look at his biceps as he leans on his elbows! Don't look at every vein that's popping out beneath his skin, like he's a mosquitos wet dream! "Wouldn't kill you to go now and then, you know."

You rolled your eyes. "I'm already blessed with a perfect body, thank you very much."

His hard stare continued, watching as you tried to shirk your gaze away from his impeccable form. "Is something up?"

"No! Just... need a distraction." You huffed under your breath. "Clearly."

"Distraction, huh?" A small smirk appeared. "My friend Taehyung wants me and some of the other guy to go out clubbing tonight."

"You club?" You had a hard time imagining Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes out partying, but you were having a hard time imagining anything besides what was beneath that shirt at the moment.

"Yeah. You can come if you want. Though I'm sure you'd much rather—"

"Sure, why not." You couldn't stand the thought of Jungkook bringing a girl home tonight and having to listen. And looking like that? It was bound to happen. The impossible now seemed very possible, you were going to cock-block even if it killed you. 

Jungkook's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, really?"

"Sure, it's been a while since I went out. I need a distraction anyways." You shut your laptop closed and stretched, needing to close your eyes for a second to make it easier to not ogle your roommate. "Unless there's a problem with that?"

"No! No, I just... wasn't expecting you to say yes, that's all." He lifted from the countertop and pulled out a towel next to his water bottle, rubbing the sheen of sweat off his neck much to your dismay. "We usually go out at 10, that cool?"

"Isn't that a bit past your bedtime?" You chuckled at the thought. "Sure you can get your morning run in?"

"I'll get my cardio in one way or another," he said before slinking off.

Now that you didn't like to hear.

—

Jungkook's friends were nice enough, three guys about your age named Taehyung, Jimin, and Hoseok. 

They were all attractive, same level as Jungkook, and you tried to think back to all of those friends you used to spot Jungkook with at university. Were they all in the same league, the way attractive people tend to hang out with their own kind, leaving you uggos to your own devices to stare up at them in awe? Did everyone know Jungkook was hot except you? Were you just an idiot who had been blinded by knowing him before Acutane and Invisalign?

They all treated you cordially, and when Taehyung made a sly comment he was quickly scolded by Jungkook, who said, "Don't even think about it."

Pity, Taehyung was pretty hot. You wouldn't mind taking him for a ride if you weren't going to be preoccupied making sure Jungkook didn't see any action.

Perfect Jungkook agreed to be the DD of the night for you, thankfully. You had never seen him drunk before, and part of you was admittedly disappointed you wouldn't get to see it tonight. What kind of drunk was he? Giggly, happy drunk? Angry, loud mouthed drunk? Nah, that definitely didn't fit.

Horny drunk?

Maybe it was a good thing he was the one driving.

The club was loud, as expected, with bodies on bodies pressed against each other closer to the DJ booth. Jungkook leaned in to your ear so you could hear him, and you got a hearty whiff of his cologne. Fuck, it reminded you of the Abercrombie and Fitch scent you used to be obsessed with in middle school. How did it still have this effect? "Are you wanting to drink or dance already?"

You watched as Hoseok and Jimin wove their way into the crowd, disappearing from sight. "I think I'll need a drink first."

"That's fine. Just catch me in there." He doesn't say another word before he followed after his friends, leaving you behind. Whatever. You looked around for Taehyung, wondering where he had wandered off to, to no avail. Dejected and temporarily thrown off the tracks of Mission: Cock-Block Jungkook, you make your way to the bar. It isn't until a lemon drop is in front of you that you feel a hand on your shoulder.

You turned around, a red-faced, drunken girl greeting you with a cheesy smile. "Oh my God, did you walk in here with Jungkook?"

"Er— yes? Are you his friend?"

She leaned in harder against you, and you feel the heat from the alcohol off her. "Oh my God, define friend? Ha, no, we just hooked up once."

Your ears perked up at that. Hooked up? She had slept with Jungkook? Jungkook actually got down like that? "Oh... really?"

"Really!" She beamed. Her eyes went wide as she stared at you. "Are you sleeping with him too?"

"No, no, I—" Before you could correct her that you had never slept with Jungkook and surely never would, she interjected.

"Girl, you need to get ooooon that!" She giggled, snapping her fingers at the bartender for his attention, digging around in her purse for her card. "Excuse me, Mr. Bartender! Can we get two green tea shots over here?" She plopped down on the seat next to you, scooting in closer. "When I tell you it was the best dick of my lifeeee girlfriend, you better believe it."

You were suddenly so glad that this oversharing, drunk mess was giving you such valueable intel. You felt like a spy, gathering information on the enemy through sly thinking and a silver tongue. Granted, anything would probably sound cool to her in the state she was in. And you didn't even try, but who were you to deny blackmail material? You could always ues a leg up on Jungkook. You leaned on one elbow, suddenly incredibly intrigued. "Oh really?" You smiled as best you could. "You're kidding."

"No way!" The two shots slid before you. "He's got like, a third leg, I'm telling you!"

"I want all of the details." Normally you wouldn't want to hear a thing about Jungkook's sex life, but this opportunity had fallen right into your lap. Who were you not to take it? Plus, your mind was still spinning with thoughts of him in his compression tee, and the fact he even went clubbing in the first place. Suddenly you were more than curious to know about every aspect of Jungkook you had been missing out on.

"Take the shot with me and I'll tell you everything!"

You couldn't say no to that, and anything for the mission. Glasses up, and you felt the sharp burn travel down your throat and into the pit of your stomach. Bringing your face back to neutral, you turned to your new friend. "Spill."

"Ok, so," she leaned in closer, mouth next to your ear. "We hooked up in the bathroom here like a year— wait, was it two years?— ago. Oh my god, when I tell you, I'd do anything for another go. Unfortunately I've got this situationship with a guy named Jake— don't ever go for guys with J names, I'm telling you, they'll fuck you up."

"Like Jungkook?" You tried to get her back on track.

"Oh he'd be in a good way!" She laughed. "I don't know actually. It was a one night thing. Never even got his number. Can you give it to me? Wait. Never mind. Jake wouldn't like that."

"I don't know, bathroom fucks don't sound the greatest." Damn did she seem to wander in conversation.

"Oh my God, I know right? Usually it's so nasty— but girl, when I tell you, he was nastier. He was an absolute freak!" She sighed, tapping on her empty shot glass and waving to the bartender again for refills. "I wish Jake were that freaky sometimes. I mean, he tries, but still."

"What do you mean, freak?" Jungkook? A freak? The dude probably was as vanilla as you could get! You remembered when your moms gave you the talk together, and how red his face got.

Her eyes lit up. "Absolute freak! Fucking rough, in all the right ways. It's so hard to come across big dick that's actually good, y'know? Like humongous, like, girth of a coke can, almost! I felt like I was going to die choking on that, y'know what I mean? And the mouth on him, Jesus!"

"Good to know he reciprocates, I guess," you shrugged, reaching for your new green tea shot as it was placed in front of you. This girl was a blessing in disguise spilling these nasty details to a stranger, but it was so much you definitely needed more liquor to get through it.

"Oh girl, he reciprocates. And that boy is a talker." She downed her shot, and you did the same. "I've never heard a guy talk like that outside of porn."

You felt like your heard was about to explode. Jungkook, a yapper in bed? The most you had ever heard a guy say was "Do you like that, baby?" To which you'd simply nodded and checked the time to see if you'd be able to make it home in time to binge your TV show. Jungkook couldn't even say the word "fuck" until he was 14. What on Earth had he been spewing?

"This sounds a bit hard to believe." You felt your cheeks warm up, knowing a rosy flush would soon overtake your face.

"I don't blame you. But I am giving out the recommendation," she snickered. "He's a bit mean though, fair warning. I thought he would be all sweet but, boy, did he throw me for a loop!"

"Mean how?"

She asked the bartender for another refill and nudged the shot to you. You were a little hesitant. One lemon drop and three shots already in such a short amount of time? You hadn't drunk like this in years.

"C'mon, last round I promise! It's all on me. All of my roommates are so sick of me talking about it again and again all this time. They heard all the juicy deets over and over again. They said if I mention it even one more time they're locking me out of my apartment. But good dick is so hard to come by, of course anyone would obsess over it!" She huffed, sliding the glass closer to you. "And you're soooo pretty. You deserve good dick. We all do."

Well, a free drink is a free drink.

You took the last shot, the buzz amplifying as you felt yourself loosen up and relax more. The burn in the pit of your stomach encouraged your endeavor. You looked at the girl, her pretty face squealing with delight as she felt the alcohol course through her veins. "Where are your friends, anyways?"

"Oh, I'm here with Abby, but she's over there sucking face." She pointed behind her, and lo and behold, you finally figured out where Taehyung had went.

"Oh, I know that guy."

"Do you? Is he nice?"

"I can't really say, honestly. I don't know him that well. He's one of Jungkook's friends." You circled your finger around the rim of the glass, eyeing her. "How mean are we talking?"

Her smile stretched from ear to ear. "Evil."

A tattooed hand appeared from behind you, and you spun around to see Jungkook's sweaty form. Your newly discovered weakness. Now-Drunk-You was barely keeping it together enough to keep Sober-You's dignity intact. He looked too damn good in his dark jeans, white tank, and black jacket. The silver chain he often wore only brought your attention to his sweaty neck. Your mind was flooded with the new information you had received, and you couldn't help but laugh in his face out of the sheer ridiculousness of it and nervousness.

He cocked his head to the side, studying your face. His eyes darted between the empty glasses and your lidded eyes. "How much have you had to drink?"

"Oh, pshh, this is nothing. I used to do this all the time." You slid the glasses further away from you, as though that would hide the evidence. "I believe you know my new friend, here."

Your friend waved her hand, giggling. "Hiiii Jungkook."

He gave her a warm smile. Not one that said he had railed her in a nearby bathroom, apparently. Maybe she had made everything up? Gotten your Jungkook mixed up with some sex deity you desperately needed to meet? "Hi Layla."

"Met your new girl, here. She's fun!"

"She's my roommate," Jungkook corrected, and for some reason you didn't like it. Was he interested in hooking up with Layla again? She clearly was down.

Layla looked at you, eyes widened. "Roommate? Girl, I could never! How do you—"

You interrupted her, not wanting her to finish her sentence. It wasn't one you trusted yourself to answer honestly at the moment. Instead you pointed to where Taehyung and Abby were. "Look, your friend is busy sucking face with her friend."

"So he is," Jungkook hummed, eyes diverting back to you. "You all good?"

"Yeah, yeah!" You tried to focus on him. His pretty eyes looked so concerned. You felt so much more affection toward him when you were drunk. You were tempted to pull him in by the chain and pinch his cheeks the way you did when you were kids. "Where have you been?"

"Dancing. I was waiting for you to join."

"Fiiine I'll come." You hopped up from your seat and turned to Layla. "Thank you so much for the drinks. It was lovely meeting you."

"Byeee girlfriend. If he doesn't take you home I will," she winked. You were tempted to take her up on that offer. 

Without thinking you grabbed Jungkook's hand, pulling him into the crowd. Whether he was shocked by your action or not, you didn't know. You danced and held your arms up, feeling the alcohol loosen your movements and occasionally bumping into others. You eventually spied Jimin and Hoseok tearing it up on the dance floor, greeting you with cheerful smiles and hyping you up. You were drunk enough to welcome it, spinning around and cheering Jungkook on too as you spotted him moving along with the music.

He was actually doing pretty good, incorporating footwork and everything in the little dancing room he had. The most you were really able to do well was sway your hips to the beat.

"I didn't know you could dance!" When the two of you were forced to go to homecoming together he was always stepping on your toes. Granted, you stepped on his toes first, and on purpose, so perhaps he had only been doing it as a form of payback.

"Seems like there's a lot you don't know." God, his voice sounded so sexy right in your ear like that. You knew he didn't think anything of the forced proximity, it being a necessity with how loud the crowd and music was, but still. You were going weak at the knees. 

 You scoffed, almost to yourself. "Yeah... no kidding."

Unfortunately for many others, there was a very particular type of drunk you were. The wander-drunk. Before long you were finding the crowd suffocating to be in, and your heels were starting to give you blisters. Making your way upstairs to get a little bit more quiet, you crashed on one of the couches, the area much more vacant save for some people making out. Gross. You can't believe Jungkook hooked up here of all places. And in a nasty ass bathroom? Disgusting. Maybe he really was a horndog.

You shouldn't have been surprised when Jungkook followed after you, sitting down much too close for your mental well being. 

You felt much friendlier to him now, giggling as you caught your breath and sticking your finger in his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin against the tip. "Gonna follow me in the bathroom too?"

"Layla told you a lot, huh?"

"Pshh." You pull your finger back and looked away, not wanting to be reminded of everything she told you. "Girl's a yapper."

"What'd she tell you?"

You side-eyed him, a smirk creeping up on your lips. "Wouldn't you like to know, weather boy?"

He rolled his eyes. "I would, in fact. Seems like it was about me."

"She saw us walk in together. Told me you two hooked up." You crossed your arms. "Told me a lot, actually."

He grinned. "All good things, I bet."

You felt your cheeks flare up further, and try to fight back the booze to keep your sanity in check. "Oh, that's what you assume, huh? She was telling me you sucked, actually."

"Now I know for a fact she didn't say that."

You faced him, brows furrowed. "How do you know that?"

He shrugged, that smug ass grin on his face only spreading wider. "I just do."

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, and roll your eyes you did. "God, you men are all the same. You think your dick is gold and it's the best anyone ever had, and you're just a god in bed! Most of you guys can't even find the clit with GPS. You know most women fake it, right? Just to get it over with?"

He chuckled a little. "I've never had a girl fake it, trust me."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Little Jeon Jungkook was actually bragging about his sex prowess, right to your face.  You glared at him, leaning closer to see if you could scrutinize the lies coming out of his mouth.

"Bullshit." You shook your head, trying not to let your imagination wander. "Every girl fakes it at some point. Statistically it had to happen with you, especially if you're having random hookups at a club of all places."

"Why, have you faked it?"

"Duh." You said it as though it were obvious.

Jungkook let out a breath of air at that. "You know what, makes a lot of sense, actually."

You shot up at that, feeling offended for some reason. "Excuse you?"

He side-eyed you, a knowing look on his face. "Why you're so uptight. You've never gotten good dick before, have you?"

You felt as though someone had shot you, only able to look at him with a stunned, paralyzed expression. Who was this man, and what had he done with the dweeby, goody, Jeon Jungkook you had known for over two years?

"Are you drunk?" you blurted out, shocked that he was speaking so brazenly about this.

"No. I'm DD, remember?" His hand came up to touch your cheek, feeling the warmth of your skin against his palm. The action seemed so tender, so intimate. "You're pretty tipsy, though, it seems."

You can't decide if you want to lean in or jolt away from his touch, seemingly frozen. "I'm... a little drunk."

He snickered a bit at that. "I'm sure. What's going on in that head of yours?"

You realized you must've still looked stunned. "I might say something I'll regret."

That seemed to take him by surprise. He cocked his head, confused. "Why would you regret it?"

Because it would mean throwing away years of pride over a moment that will inevitably seem so embarrassingly stupid in the morning. 

You quickly leaned back out of his touch, not wanting him to feel more blood rush to your cheeks. "I-I don't know. I always say stupid shit when drunk."

"You say stupid shit when sober, too," he laughed. "Besides, drunk words are sober thoughts."

You couldn't let your drunk words or sober thoughts let him know how badly you wanted to find out if Layla had been telling the truth or not. That he was an absolute freak. With a huge cock that he knew how to use. Who spewed nasty shit in her ear as he railed her in some dirty club bathroom. That he was super fucking mean... apparently. Not that it interested you. 

Your mouth instead opened and closed like a fish, unable to process the moment or what you wanted to say that would not end in your horrific demise.

Were you actually wanting Jungkook? No, no way. Layla had gotten into your head, plied you with booze, and sent you to a possible metaphorical wolf. Your drunk mouth could not be trusted at this moment. 

Jungkook brushed a lock from your face, puzzled as to what had you so silent for once. He figured when drunk you'd be spilling your guts out about any and everything, just like Layla. "Are you wanting to go home already?"

You were tempted to say no, as going home with Jungkook would mean you were alone together, and you weren't in a state to not jump on him. But then you remembered your sole reason for being here, and since the club was apparently a dangerous place for Jungkook to find pussy, it was probably best you called it a night to end any possibility of him getting laid. For your own sake of getting sleep, of course. Not for your sanity or anything.

You nodded, following Jungkook downstairs as he told his friends you were both heading home (despite their protests), and helping you into the car. Your walk wasn't nearly as straight, though the heels weren't helping, and you were looking a lot more drunk than you had initially thought. Jungkook buckled your seatbelt for you, and you couldn't help but stare him as he sang softly to the music on the radio, the city lights flashing across his face as he drove you two home.

You couldn't stop ogling at him, and blatantly at that. His tatted fingers tapped against the steering wheel as he drove with one hand. His thighs were spread like a meal before you, and you couldn't help but let your gaze zero in on his crotch. Was his dick really as big as Layla said? Nearly the girth of a coke can? How was that possible? She was definitely exaggerating. And he was mean? How mean? You never had a thing for nice guys, and Jungkook was about as nice as they come. Not usually that nice to you, but still. You couldn't imagine him saying anything meaner than what he already says when you're in one of your spats with him. And during sex? What could he possibly say?

How were you being bombarded with all this new information? You knew everything about him. He liked to eat boiled eggs without eating the yolks. He used to be able to belch the alphabet in your ear just to piss you off. How did you not know he had a tree trunk for a dick sitting between his legs? You squint at the crotch of his jeans, wondering if you could make out an outline of a bulge beneath the fabric.

Fuck, you weren't going to stop thinking about this. What would it be like to suck him off... hypothetically speaking? Layla overshared she was practically choking on him. Was he a head pusher? Would he force you to take it down your throat, be super mean and degrading as he teased you for barely being able to fit him? Would he be even meaner to get back at you for all the trouble you had caused him over the years? Would he laugh as he watched you cry, trying to force yourself down to the base to please him? What would he sound like when the tip finally hit the back of your throat? Would he whimper or let out a deep groan? Would he trap your head between his bulging thighs to keep you locked on him until your eyes rolled back and you ran out of air?

Fuck fuck fuck! Your mind was being filled with  all the possibilities. You couldn't be thinking about this! Absolutely not! You hated Jungkook. You knew him forever, how you could you be thinking about sucking his dick? How could you be thinking, at this very moment, of possibly begging him to let you have a taste of it and suck him off in the car just so you could get it out of your system?

Absolutely not! The sheer thought of him knowing that was absolutely mortifying!

"What're you staring at?"

Your eyes popped back up to Jungkook's, who was giving you a sideways glance, his humming ceased. 

"Your jeans," you stammered out, trying to act cool.

"What about them?"

"...They're ugly. Burn them. " That was a lie, they looked scarily good on him. Let you see how thick his thighs really were. It was the best you could come up with, though. Better than the "take them off" that was about to spew from your lips. 

Jungkook grunted, looking back at the road. "'Course you'd say that. Guess you're sobering up. That's good at least."

You let out a breath at your quick save, forcing yourself to look at the road too. You were just drunk and having silly horny thoughts, clearly. This was nothing. You were sure that when morning came you'd have all thoughts of Jungkook being anything other than a pest out of your mind.

—

You kneeled before Jungkook, a whimper on your lips as he cockily smirked down at you, legs spread on the sofa chair to accommodate your space between them. He looked like a king, leaning back and tilting his head with a teasing expression. Like he knew exactly what you wanted, and now he was just dangling the carrot on the stick, tormenting you.

"C'mon, say it again."

You swallowed hard, eyes flying between his tantalizing crotch and his wicked expression. "Can I..." You licked your lips, mouth suddenly feeling dry. "Can I please suck your dick?"

"Oh? You wanna suck it?" He laughed cruelly, shaking his head. "Why should I let you? You've been nothing but a bitch to me for years."

"I know, I just," you took in a sharp breath. "Just need it. I can't stop thinking about it. Need to get it out of my system."

"Hm, I'm not sure." He cocked his head to the side, considering it. His eyes scanned your pathetic state in front of him. "Shouldn't give brats what they want. Might give them the wrong idea."

"Please! At least... at least let me see it." You stared at his crotch ravenously, curiosity eating at you. Maybe even a glimpse would be enough to satiate you and put the issue to bed. Quietly, you asked, "Please let me see it?"

"Mmm, you sound so sweet when you beg. You're so nice when you want something."

You nodded furiously, desperate for anything he can give you. "I'll be good. I promise. I'll do whatever you want."

"Yeah? I don't feel like being nice to you, though, princess. Think you can handle that?"

Your mouth began to water, watching his legs spread a little wider. "Yes, I want it. Want you to be mean."

"You gonna choke on it?"

Nod.

"You wanna gag and drool all over yourself while you do it?"

You sharply inhaled. "Yes, please."

"I'm real big, princess. You sure you know what you're signing up for?"

"Yes! Please please please just let me suck your dick. I can't take it any more!" You felt like you were going to cry already from his teasing.

He smirked, shaking his head with disbelief at your desperation. You had no idea what you just signed up for. "Hm, if you say so. Go ahead and take it out, then."

You shuffled closer between his legs all too eagerly, mouth now watering with the thought of being able to finally taste him. With shaky hands you reached up for his zipper, tugging down the same jeans you had called hideous. Yanking down the Calvin Klein briefs, you almost jumped back as his cock sprung to life in front of your face, far bigger than you had anticipated or ever taken before. He was huge, with a dick that looked like it should only exist in brutal porn links on Twitter.

"Mm, don't be shy, baby." Jungkook tangled his hands in your hair, roughly pulling you closer to it. He stroked his cock a bit, smacking it against your lips and cheeks, laughing at how you screwed your eyes shut and tried to turn away. He didn't let you, keeping you in place as he further degraded you. "Don't run from it. Begged so much to even see it. Are you going to choke on it like you promised?"

You nodded, taking it in your hands, surprised when your fingertips barely meet. Layla was right about his girth, and you couldn't help but feel a sting between your legs at the mere prospect of it. You give out a small kitten lick at the tip, circling your tongue around it and looking up at him for approval.

He seemed almost... bored, looking at you with an unimpressed expression. "C'mon, is that all you've got? You're putting me to sleep here."

Determined, you opened your mouth and took him in, trying to run your tongue along the underside of his cock as you took the first few inches in your mouth.

He cocked his head to the side, his face still the same. "You're still not impressing me, princess."

You took him in further, bobbing your head as you slowly lowered an inch or two more, feeling him fill up your throat. You quickened your pace, spit coating the shaft of his cock as you used your other hands to twist up and down the base where your lips weren't meeting, trying to milk the cum out. You tasted the pre-cum from the tip of his dick, and moaned at the taste, delighted. Choking on him, you buried your head as close to his groin as you could before popping back up for air, taking in greedy gasps before diving back in on his dick. You pumped furiously, now only needing one hand as you sunk your mouth deeper and deeper on him, already gagging as you tried to get the tip to reach the back of your throat. 

You typically prided yourself on your head, but Jungkook was proving to be a real challenge.

"Mm, that's it. You're fucking dick-hungry, aren't you? Been obsessing over this, huh? Desperate little slut."

You looked up at him with watery eyes as you suctioned your lips, your tongue moving underneath as you tried to stroke him along with the rest of your mouth. He gave a slight smirk, as though amused by the sight of you making a mess of yourself on his dick. Your spit was running down to your hand and his shaft, down his balls and over his lap into the cushions. It also dribbled down your face, running down your chin and coating the white top you wore until it was near transparent, giving him a clear view of your tits beneath. You didn't care, though, repeatedly bobbing your head to go deeper, prying yourself off to gather your breath before going in for more, as though his dick were more important than air. It absolutely was.

He chuckled at your struggle. "You just couldn't resist a big dick, huh? You really are so easy."

You gagged around him, your throat constricting as your hands grabbed onto his thighs, holding you in place as you tried to get your nose to reach his pelvis. He grunted, hand tightening in your hair and making your scalp sting with delicious pain.

"You're so cute like this. But you're still not quite there." He flashed his teeth, canines glinting in the light. "Do you need some help?"

Without waiting for your answer he pushed your head down, forcing his cock to spear into the back of your throat and pressing your nose against him. Your lips suctioned around the base as you gagged around him more, chin against his balls as he finally forced you to take all of him in. You gagged again, and he moaned at the feeling of your throat spasming around the tip and shaft of his cock, a deep groan leaving his lips as he felt you struggle around him. You blinked the tears up away as you looked up at him pleadingly, and you felt his dick twitch inside of your mouth.

"Fuuuck that's it, now you're being a good slut." He let your mouth rise a few inches before slamming down again, enjoying the feeling of you choking on him, your nails scratching against his denim-clad thighs, unable to get a good grip. "Knew this dumb mouth was good for something. Just needed to be filled."

His ass lifted from the seat as he pushes his hips further into your face, meanly circling his hips to stretch your lips out, laughing as you gagged at the sensation. You felt like your mouth was going to split at the corners with his girth. "Maybe with enough training you can be a good cock-sucking whore. I might actually wanna use this hole again."

He yanked you off his cock, a string of spit connecting the tip to your lips as you gasped and sputtered, chest heaving as you tried desperately to fill your lungs.

"That's enough air." You didn't get enough warning before he's slamming his cock down your throat again, rubbing your face into his lap from side to side to make sure he can feel the walls of your throat properly. Your nails raked down his thighs again as he buried himself as deep as possible in you, wanting you to feel every inch that he forced you to take. Jungkook laughed again, holding eye contact with your determined glare. "What's that look for? You were so desperate for it earlier. Begged for a taste."

Jungkook pulled you back by the hair again, enjoying the sight of your mascara running down your face already from the tears, your shirt covered in drool. His cock was shiny from spit, twitching and beckoning to you for more. Your face was flushed from the lack of air, and you were breathing hard, glaring up at him. He tilted his head, hand detangling from your hair to grab your spit covered chin, forcing you to crane your neck to look up at his amused gaze. He gathered the spit from your chin, letting it spread out on his palm before cruelly rubbing your face with it, smearing your makeup and humiliating you further. "You're just so cute. Are you giving up already?"

"No." You were barely able to cough it out, your voice raspy from your throat being used.

"Aw, you look so determined." He mocked you with a belittling pout. He pulled your face under his cock and pressed your lips against his balls, shoving your head in with a rough push. "Suck."

You took one of his balls in your mouth, licking at the sack and sucking one into your mouth, roving your tongue over it. His cock rested against your face, and his hand returned to the back of your head, forcing you to breathe him in as you licked away. 

"Fuck, that's it, give them attention too. Good sluts don't forget." With his spare hand he reached for his dick, stroking it with the newly-added lubrication of your spit, his hand twisting much like yours had. His fist repeatedly hit the top of your head as he jerked his cock, like he was trying to force your face to press deeper and lower against his balls. "You like being beneath me? This is where you belong. Sucking my dick like you're meant for it. Can't bitch at me with that bratty mouth now."

You lapped at him more eagerly, wanting to convey how much you agreed. He snickered at that. 

"You're such a good slut. Maybe you can become one of my favorites. Would you like that?" He stood up now, shoving down the rest of his pants and underwear and stepping out of them, dragging you by the hair to straighten your back and keep your face level with his cock. He smacked your mouth with his palm, as though he were trying to wake you up. "Open."

You obediently did so, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue. Jungkook slapped the tip against it a few times, smirking at how obedient you were to his every command. He plunged back inside, slamming his hips back against your face. The man was so forceful, so rough, using you like you were nothing more than a sex toy for him to spill his load into. And you loved it. God, you loved it. The way heat was churning up in your belly with each passing grunt that left his lips, or that deep groan every time he bottomed out into your throat, forcing you to nuzzle your chin against his balls to take him impossibly deeper? It was heaven, unreal actually. You couldn't help but press your thighs together, desperate for relief, knowing you were creaming in your panties right now.

"You fucking like being used. Wanted be my whore so bad. So fucking desperate for a taste and to gag on my dick— you're fucking pathetic." He fell back on the chair, taking you with him as you continued to sputter around him, the walls of your throat massaging his cock and pushing him closer to the edge. "Can't believe you get off on this. Just another slut for me to use, huh? Gave me all that attitude because you wanted me to fuck you stupid like the whore you are, isn't that right? Just needed a fat fucking cock to choke on."

Jungkook wrapped his legs around your head, bulging, muscular thighs squeezing around your throat as he crossed his calves and pulled you closer, trapping you at the base of his cock with nowhere to go. Your lips suctioned around the base, drool dripping out from the corners of your lips as you salivated on him. He pulled your head up and down, only letting you up an inch as you gurgled over his cock over and over again, the sloppy, lewd sounds loud and pornographic. Your eyes started to roll back, blood rushing to your face as he choked you with his thighs and his dick, his smug, shit-eating grin being the only thing you could see now.

"Fuuuck, you might actually make me cum. Who knew a brain-dead slut like you could actually be good at something?" His mean laugh echoed in your ears as he used both hands tangled in your locks to guide you, your throat nothing to a fleshlight to repeatedly squeeze around him now. You were starting to get light headed, the edges of your vision darkening. "Gonna ruin you. You're so obsessed with my dick already it's pathetic. Would let me do anything, I bet. Just begged me to use you like you were actually mine, fuck."

You felt yourself going weak, vision tunneling in on Jungkook as he held you down as deep as he could, nose smashed against his pelvis, pre-cum flowing down your spasming throat as you did your best to swallow around him. Your eyes were now actually rolling back as Jungkook suffocated you on his cock, all of your senses being filled with only him, lashes fluttering as your eyes began to shut, your consciousness slipping away.

At the very last second he pulled you off of him, and your legs were jelly, unable to support yourself as you crumbled onto the floor. Oxygen practically slammed back into your lungs, your dotted vision slowly reappearing as Jungkook climbed over you, thighs straddling either side of your head as he stroked his glistening cock in front of your face. He bit his lip, gnawing at the flesh as he jerked quicker and quicker, watching you pant and writhe beneath him, looking already so, so broken.

He ran his hand through his hair, a breathless smile on his face as he admired his work so far. "Fuck, if I knew you were this slutty from the get go I would've fucked your mouth the first day we moved in. Probably sooner."

Jungkook pressed his cock against your face, pressing his palm down on it so you could feel the full length of him against your cheek and forehead. His cock was so big that his balls rested on your chin and his tip reached above your hairline. He rolled his hips, humping against you, watching the spit on his cock further rub in and ruin your makeup, your mascara having tracked its way down your cheeks already. The act felt so humiliating, and his eyes lit up with sadistic pleasure as he watched you whimper at the feeling.

"Mm, you're so pretty like this. Give it a kiss. Show how grateful you are to be used by me."

You tilted your head slightly, pressing your lips against the shaft to give it a small kiss, wanting to curl in on yourself as his demeaning laugh reached your ears. You felt so ashamed, and yet so excited, like you yourself were wondering how far he could push past your limits.

"You're such a little freak," he whispered, watching you close your eyes and part your lips at the sensation of him getting off using your face. You were lost in it. Lost in him, wanting nothing more than for him to use you for his own pleasure. "Nasty little slut. Meant to be broken. What happened to all that attitude, baby? I didn't even have to fuck it out of you, did I? Just had to stuff my dick in this bratty mouth of yours to make you finally shut the fuck up."

You weakly nodded, missing his warmth as he pulled back to let his dick hover above you again, his big hand twisting and jerking around it as he stroked himself to completion. You reached your hands up to wrap around him, wanting to help him finish, but he slapped them away, pinning them above your head and stroking faster. You whined at his restriction, his smirk cruel as he watched you suffer from your helplessness, unable to touch him any more.

"Tell me who you belong to," he moaned, gaze hard on your face as though that would pin you to the floor more than his hand. "Tell me whose slut you are, who gets to use you from now on."

"You," you gasped. "You, Jungkook."

"Good girl." His cock twitched, balls clenching as the first few spurts of cum escaped the tip, coating your face. His hand increased in speed, milking every last drop onto you, watching as you became covered in him. You tried to turn your face to the side, away from it, but he roughly grabbed your jaw, forcing you to feel every drop. "No running from it. This is what you begged for. You wanted to be owned."

Letting go of his length, he rubbed his spit-covered palm hard over your face, smearing the cum into the skin and already ruined makeup, making you into a further mess. He scooped some with his thumb to collect it and smear it across your lips, letting you finally get a proper taste. "You're mine now. Even when you hate me, you want me."

He stuck his cum-covered fingers into your mouth, letting you suck and hum with satisfaction. Jungkook smirked at your fucked-out expression, covered in his cum and absolutely ruined because of him. "You've never looked prettier than this, princess."

And then you came.

— 

You shot upright in bed, covered in sweat, feeling it everywhere. On your forehead, down your back, between your thighs, truly everywhere. Your legs trembled and shook beneath the sheets as you quickly kicked them off, horrified of the wet spot you saw and felt beneath your shorts.

There was no way. There was absolutely no way you just came from a wet dream about sucking Jungkook's dick.

You jumped out, quickly yanking at the sheets as if you were getting rid of evidence of a dead body. You looked over to your clock. 4:32 AM. The alcohol had made you knock the fuck out as soon as you got home, but clearly it was also responsible for that fucked up dream you just had. Gathering the sheets in your arms, you quickly rushed towards the washer, mind spinning with images of that vivid dream you just had.

It felt so real. Every touch, every press of skin against skin, it felt like you could actually still feel it. Still-frames flashed across your mind. Jungkook's smug as smile as you begged for a taste of his cock. His thick thighs enveloping around your neck and squeezing, forcing you to take all of him. Him smearing his cum into your face after stroking his cock against it and marking you. His nasty, vile words as he degraded you the entire time.

How the fuck had your twisted mind come up with all of this imagery?

You dumped the sheets into the washer, pouring in some laundry detergent before turning it on. It was so fucking loud. You prayed Real-Jungkook hadn't been woken up by whatever moan or scream you had let out when you woke up from the wet dream. It was such a small apartment, he might even wake up from the sound of just the washer.

Your eyes slowly drifted towards his bedroom door, the wooden barrier taunting you with what you knew hid behind it.

You were so tempted to open it up, climb into Jungkook's bed and suck his dick for real this time. 

No no no! Stop it! Your horny brain could not be trusted right ow, especially after a dream like that. 

You had to do something about this. If you went to bed again who knew what sort of fucked up shit you'd dream up of the man you swore you hated for practically your entire life.

You searched in your room for any paper, but came up with nothing. You had rid yourself of most of your old materials pretty much immediately after graduating. It wasn't until you looked to the coffee table in the living room, at the neat stack of college-bound, spiral notebooks, that you found your solution. Jungkook always liked to study here, his gaming equipment taking up too much space his desk, and you knew the notebooks up top were the ones he used most recently and regularly. Surely he wouldn't mind you borrowing one of the older ones from a class he's already passed?

You reached for the bottom-most book and yanked it out, flipping through the pages of Jungkook's neat handwriting until you finally come across the first open page.

Grabbing a nearby pencil, listening to the racketing of your shitty ass washing machine, you began to write. While it's still fresh on your mind, you wrote down every sordid detail from beginning to end, letting your writing utensil fly across the page as you poured out every piece of imagery that flooded your mind and flooded between your legs. All of it, from how you begged to every nasty thing he did to you, from choking you between his thighs, rubbing his cum in your face, and suffocating you on his cock enough for you to almost pass out. You felt your blood finally start to simmer down to a much more manageable temperature with every letter, your coping strategies doing wonders for your cortisol levels.

It isn't until you scribble the very last part that you hear a door creak open.

Bleary eyed and sleepy, Jungkook stepped out, his brows furrowed as he sees you crouched in front of the coffee table. "What're you doing up?"

Your gaze flew to the clock on the microwave. 5 AM, Jungkook's usual wake up time. Figured even a night out wouldn't stop him from his typically routine. 

Your eyes repeatedly darted between his face and the shorts he slept in, your mouth unconsciously watering despite yourself. Fuck, he looked so good with his mussed up bed head and lidded eyes. It didn't help that you had the image of Dream-Kook's dick seared in your brain, and you couldn't help but wonder how it compared to the real thing. Catching yourself, though, you force your eyes back on his face, not wanting to be caught blatantly staring the way you were last night.

"Oh, Jungkook! You're up early."

"I always get up at this time." His eyes narrowed, mind trying to process the fact you were too. "The question is, why are you?"

"Oh, guess the alcohol made me wake up early. Can't go to bed," you nervously chuckled, holding the book behind your back in hopes he wouldn't notice.

"So you're doing... laundry?" His eyes go to your loud ass washing machine, still rattling with your soaked sheets inside.

"Thought I'd take a page out of your book and be productive in the morning!" You quickly explained.

He eyed you suspiciously. "What's in your hand?"

"Oh, this? It's just..." You finally look at what Jungkook wrote on the bright, red cover. "Calculus 2?"

"You're reading my Calc notes at 5 in the morning?"

"Just because I'm done with school doesn't mean I'm done learning!" 

"You didn't even have to take Calculus 1. You were a Psychology major." 

"Don't you have a morning run to go on?" you huffed, irritated with his constant questioning. "You missed out on your 'cardio' last night, remember?"

He cocked his head, confused. "No I didn't. I went out dancing. That's basically cardio."

Oh...

Well now you felt stupid. 

You looked away, hoping he couldn't see the shame and embarrassment on your face, knowing you were bullshitting. You were afraid that if he looked at you too long, he'd see exactly what was going on in your head. "You should still go out for a run. Don't need you getting lazy."

He rolled his eyes, shuffling back to his room. "Whatever."

You let out a breath of air and finally let your tense shoulders loosen.

That was a close one.

—

You really thought that would be the end of it. So you had one, absolutely crazy, unrealistic dream about Jungkook railing your mouth. So what? Surely it would never happen again. You had gotten it out of your system by writing all of it out. It's not like that would ever even happen like that. Clearly you had taken the details Layla had given you and ran with them, making Jungkook out to be a mean, cruel, demented sex-god in your imagination. No one could ever live up to that fantasy, least of all a nerd like Jungkook. There was no way you saw Jeon Jungkook as anything besides the dweeb you grew up to despise.

And you were truly despising him this moment, squirming as you banged against the bathroom door, in desperate need of relief.

"Come on, Jungkook! You've been in there forever, you're done showering! Some of us have to actually pee, you know." God, you reallllly didn't want to head all the way downstairs and use the lobby bathroom. Damn this place for only having one.

"Just a second, hold your tits," he piped back.

You scowled, slamming your fist against the door again. Jungkook always took showers for what seemed like forever, steaming up the small room and soaking the bathmat when he got out. You're about to hurl an insult when the door opens, revealing Jungkook through a steamy mist that clouded the room.

And he was half naked.

Your gaze automatically explored the newly revealed skin to you, every muscle in his abdomen well defined. His chest was much broader to match his shoulders, waist practically nothing as it led down to the v-shape between his hips, disappearing beneath a towel. His body was wet, glistening from the hot shower and steam, every muscle shining and glistening as though he were covered in oil. You stared down at the towel, now all too aware that he was completely naked beneath, and if weak little fitted scrap were to fall, you'd have a full view of his dick.

You had seen Jungkook shirtless countless times. At the pool, at the beach. But back then he had noodle arms and a little boy's body. He looked nothing like that any more. He had completely filled out, a man before your eyes.

Jungkook quirked a brow at your staring, confused by your blank expression. "Didn't you need to pee?"

Your empty head was then reminded of what you had come there for in the first place, and as much as you'd like to further ogle Jungkook's muscular, god-like build, the pressure of your bladder reminded you there were much more urgent matters. You did your best to twist your face into a scowl again, bumping into him purposefully as you enter the bathroom. "Move."

Slamming the door behind you, you finally were able to pee. Washing your hands and wiping the fogged up mirror, you internally cringed at how brazenly you checked out Jungkook.  Fuck, hopefully he didn't think anything of it. But what could he expect when he was practically naked in front of you? Don't people usually carry their change of clothes into the bathroom with them for after?

Fuck... if only the towel dropped...

You were sickeningly reminded of the dream from prior, and find yourself reaching for his body wash, still dewy and wet. You popped it open, letting the fragrance hit your nose. Fuck, you were being such a creep right now. But it smelled so much like Jungkook, with that manly, woody scent that now covered your apartment and drove you crazy.

You heard a knock on your front door, followed by Jungkook's, "I'll get it!"

You exited the bathroom, seeing Taehyung walk in. Jungkook had already changed into clothes (unfortunately), wearing blue jeans and a hoodie to combat your blasting AC, but his hair was still wet as he ran a towel over it. Taehyung smiled at you as he entered, giving a small wave. "Hey, Y/N."

"Hi Taehyung." Taehyung was an attractive man, no doubt, with supermodel features and bulkiness that rivaled Jungkook's. It was no wonder he was able to pull girls so easily when clubbing. "Sorry we didn't get to say goodbye the other night. You seemed a bit preoccupied."

"Oh, yeah, she was cool."

You tilted your head, squinting your eyes. "What was her name?"

"Um..." He glanced over at Jungkook for help. "Amy?"

"Abby," you corrected for him. 

"Right! Abby." He smiled at Jungkook knowingly. "She's Layla's friend, right?"

"Dude, shut up," Jungkook grunted, tossing his wet towel in Taehyung's face.

Taehyung cackled boisterously, bunching the towel up. "What? Afraid I'll embarrass you in front of your little roomie?"

"It's fine, I know more than I should." It accidentally slipped out, and both boys give you a look that made you regret it. Taehyung's was one of keen interest, whereas Jungkook's was one of mild shock.

"Oh?" A mischievous smile slipped onto Taehyung's face. "How much do you know?"

"They hooked up," you said simply, careful not to give away what sordid details Layla had given. You did not want Jungkook to find out about how you pried for details about how dirty his mouth was and how he had a generous appendage.

"That's all?" He seemed almost disappointed. "Yeah, Jungkook's entered his manwhore phase. I'm so proud."

"Shut up, dude," Jungkook said again, shoving Taehyung's shoulder. "It was a one time thing and you know it. And I'll never be as bad as you, even if I tried."

Taehyung let out a low whistle at Jungkook's irritation. "Look who's getting so defensive. Trying to save face in front of your girlfriend?"

"Not my girlfriend," Jungkook corrected. "Just don't need you getting in her head and giving her more ammo to use against me."

That was a very you thing to do.

Taehyung's grin widened, "So you wouldn't mind if I took her on a date, would you?"

The look Jungkook shot Taehyung's way could only be described as lethal, a sharp glare accompanied with a tense jaw. Clearly Taehyung had succeeded in getting under Jungkook's skin. "Y/N wouldn't be interested in you."

"Oh really?" Taehyung quirked a brow. "I think she can answer for herself."

Both men looked to you, and you're suddenly frozen from being put on the spot. You hadn't anticipated being put between the two of them, their attention wholly focused on your answer. The truth was you probably would've jumped on Taehyung in any other circumstance, but he was Jungkook's friend, and clearly Jungkook didn't seem to keen on the idea of you sleeping with him. Besides, your head had been filled so much with Jungkook recently, you weren't sure if there was room for anyone else. 

Letting out a nervous chuckle, you glanced between the two. "This seems a bit tense," you said, diverting from the question, not wanting to directly answer.

"Don't listen to him. He's just being a dick for the sake of it," Jungkook grunted, shrugging off his hoodie and tossing it onto the living room sofa. "Go to the car already if you want us to make it before the dinner rush. Otherwise that waitress you like so much will be too busy."

Taehyung slid out from his seat, giving you a small smirk. He probably took it as a good sign you didn't directly reject him. "Call me if you want to take me up on my offer, Y/N. I can show you a good time."

He exited your apartment, leaving you alone with Jungkook, who still seemed strangely heated. His glare now turned to you, gritting his teeth. He probably was upset that you didn't directly reject Taehyung. Offended, he asked, "Is he your type or something?"

Clearly he wasn't planning on letting this go just yet. You did your best to give a noncommittal shrug, looking away. "I mean, he's a good-looking guy. I'm not sure he's exactly my type though."

"What is your type?"

Why was he so interested?

The truth was tall, muscular, inked, him. Well, not him, but maybe someone who looked just like him. A bulky guy who looked like he could toss you around like it was nothing. Maybe someone who invaded your dreams like a goddamn incubus. Fuck, maybe it was him.

"Not so sleazy," you opted for instead. 

He grunted, grabbing his wallet and shoving it in his pocket, somewhat satisfied with your answer. "Yeah, Taehyung's a bit of a fuckboy. I don't recommend you get involved with him like that."

You crossed your arms. "Birds of a feather flock together, I suppose."

A certain look flashed in his eyes as he locked gazes with you. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, you're not so innocent yourself, hooking up in a dirty club bathroom with a stranger. And he's your friend, after all."

"I said— Look, it was a one time thing, I don't usually—" He let out a breath of exasperation, shaking his head and heading to the door, grabbing his keys from the bowl next to it. "Forget it."

The door slammed shut behind him, and you were left alone with more questions than answers.

—

Your bedroom door creaked open, a small sliver of light invading your darkness and shining on your face. You squinted, watching as a shadowy mass pushed the door open further, climbing over you and ripping the sheets off.

Jungkook smiled, back from dinner, and yet there was an insatiable, hungry look in his eyes as he took in your form, now revealed from beneath the blankets. "Hey, baby," he said in a low whisper. "Did you miss me?"

"Jungkook?" You groggily reached up and rubbed at your eyes, slowly waking up as you realized he was on top of you. "What're you doing?"

"Exactly what you've been wanting me to do." He reached towards your sleep shorts, hand curling into the hem as he pulled it down your bare legs. You squirmed, reaching for his arm to stop him from exposing you, but he continued, discarding the shorts and hooking his thumbs into your panties. He licked his lips, slowly peeling them off of you, your bare center privy for his viewing pleasure. "Fuck, there's the little pussy I've been dreaming about."

You squealed as he yanked your underwear off your legs too, spreading them and leaving no part of you hidden from him. You tried to snap your legs shut, but his grip on your thighs was too strong, his gaze too hard and intense for you to escape. You knew just from the look in his eyes that he wasn't going to let you go. Your nails scratched along his wrists, begging for mercy under his scrutinizing stare. "Jungkook! You can't just—"

"But I can," he interrupted, smirking at you. "Because you want it so fucking bad, don't you?"

You whimpered a bit at that, and he let go of one of your thighs to yank your shirt off of you, leaving you completely naked before him. He pinched one of your nipples between his fingers, tugging as he watched you squirm and gasp under his touch. 

"You're so sensitive, aren't you?" He licked his lips again, as though you were a meal waiting to be devoured, and he was simply playing with his food first. "Bet you dreamed of me coming into your room and taking advantage of you, huh?"

"No!" You protested, shaking your head. "Y-You're wrong."

"Liar." His hand let go of your nipple to smack down harshly on your cunt, his hit heavy as your hips jumped up, a string of slick connecting his fingers to your sex before snapping off. "Good thing this pussy doesn't lie to me."

You bit your lip, trying to contain your squeal as he let his fingers dive between your folds, gathering your wetness and letting it smear on his digits. He circled around your clit and rubbed right above your entrance, feeling you coat him. Jungkook chuckled knowingly, watching your legs twitch and tremble with every small movement he made. "You're so wet for me already, and I haven't even done anything. You're such a slut for me."

"F-Fuck yo—" You weren't even able to finish your curse, Jungkook slipping a finger in and curling it up right at the spot that had you tensing up. "Oh my god!"

"Yeah? You like that?" He curled again, watching you thrash your head to the side, shame overtaking you. "You're so fucking easy, you know that? Just begging to be ruined. Want me to dick you down so bad, huh?"

You kicked your feet against the sheets, gasping as he pumped his finger inside of you, grinning wickedly as he watched you come apart. "Why—Why are you—"

"Because you wanted me to," he said, slipping in another finger, savoring the whimper that escaped your lips. "You wanted me to be the one to ruin you. Wanted me to use this pussy like my own personal fuck toy. Isn't that right?"

"Y-You're delusional."

"Am I?" His thrusts became quicker and harder, like your denial was making him more and more determined to have you fall apart for him. "Why are you getting wetter for me then, huh? Nasty pussy can't get enough of me it seems."

You moaned, feeling pressure build up in your abdomen already as his thumb came up to swipe at your clit. You tried closing your legs again around his hand, but he pushed one of your thighs further against the bed, making you hear the sloppy sounds of your gushing cunt full the room as he jackhammered his fingers into you.

"You're such a slut for getting off on this. Dirty little masochist." You involuntarily squeezed around his fingers, making him laugh at your expense. "Like that, huh? Like me calling you a dirty slut for me to use? You're fucking clenching on me baby, it's like you don't want me to stop. You could at least pretend a bit better that you don't like this."

With each curl of his fingers small gasps and pants left your parted lips, the pressure building as he shuffled himself further between your thighs, the hand pinning you down now quickly swiping against your clit, toying with the bud and adding to the slick sounds from between your legs. Your face burned with embarrassment, nails digging into his skin as you tried to pry him off with no avail, your orgasm building up with an intensity you weren't ready for.

"Please..." you moaned, mouth open as you watched both hands at work, expertly bringing you to the edge.

"Please?" He snickered at your weak plea. "Please what? Keep using you? Make you cum? Or should I just stop?"

He stilled his fingers and your hips bucked again, biting at your lip as you gripped onto his wrist, trying to pull him closer into you. The pressure in your abdomen began to fade, and you whined at the loss. "No!"

He cackled at that. "That's what I thought." His fingers began to move again, rebuilding your orgasm. "Gonna make you cum so hard. Maybe you'll pass out again. And then I'll still stretch this pussy out."

He slipped another finger in, your walls doing their best to accommodate the girth of his digits despite how tight it felt.

"Too much!" You felt your orgasm approaching, and fast, much faster than you could've ever anticipated.

"Too much? What're you going to do when you finally get my cock inside you, hm?" Your slick juices were spilling down to his wrist, drenching your bedsheets beneath you. "Gonna whine  and bitch about it like you are now? We both know you'll start crying if I stop."

"Don't stop! Fuck, Jungkook, you're gonna make me—"

"Cum," he growled, the hand on your clit now moving to be just his thumb, his other fingers and palm splayed out to push down against your pelvis, forcing you to feel his fingers thrusting inside further, making you tighten. "Show me how fucking easy it is to ruin you."

You whined, practically folding into yourself as you felt your orgasm wash over you, Jungkook's fingers still harshly slamming into you to take everything you could give. You squeezed his wrist, pulling him impossibly closer, the heel on the hand fingering you now flush against your folds as you ground against it, hips bucking as you rode it out. Sweat slicked your hairline as you gasped for breath, your hips slowing to a roll as you felt the aftermath fade.

Jungkook let out a pleased hum, grinding his palm further against you, watching as you keened from the overstimulation, his grin permanently etched on his face as tears sprung into your eyes. "Fuck, that's it. Love that look on your face. Barely took me any effort to get you fucked out like this."

He slipped his fingers out of you, making you mewl from the empty sensation. Bringing them up to your lips, you wordlessly opened your mouth and took them in, sucking off the residue you had left behind.

"That's a good girl. Taste yourself." He pulled his fingers out, wiping them along your thigh. "My turn."

You barely had time to process how words before he was lifting you up by the hips, turning you practically upside down as your shoulders pressed into the mattress, ass in the air as your thighs were pulled over his shoulders. Blood rushed to your head at the new angle, Jungkook keeping a tight hold on you as your pussy was directly in front of his face. With a cocky grin he brought his mouth down, fully enveloping your sex and running his sinful tongue up the entirety of it.

You moaned, cringing slightly as you still hadn't recovered from the previous orgasm. Your thighs tensed around his head, his arms circling around them to hold you up for him, mouth running up and down your folds and nasty, wet sounds omitting from it. His lips suctioned around your clit, sucking hard as you mewled and clenched your thighs around his head. His hands gripped them tight enough to leave bruises, firmly keeping your cunt glued to his face.

"Fuck, you have such a sweet cunt," Jungkook mumbled into you, the vibrations causing you to squirm at the sensation. "Don't even deserve it."

"Ah, fuck!" Your glassy eyes looked at him pleadingly, the image of his face between your thighs threatening to make you combust on the spot. "No, I just came, I can't—"

He let go of your clit with a wet pop, licking his lips as he pulled one of your thighs closer, his hand coming around to pinch at your clit with mean vigor. "Dumb sluts don't get to say no."

He buried his face back into your pussy, tongue circling around your entrance before going in, the wet muscle stiff as he thrust it in and out, before softening and licking where it could reach inside of you. His nose was pressed up against your clit, still caught between his two fingers, their slight movement as they stroked it making your mind spin. Your hands came up to bury in his hair, conflicted on whether to pull his face in closer.

He pulled his tongue from your sex, though it stayed dangling out of his mouth, as though he were a carnivorous mutt. The lower half of his face glistened with the remnants of your arousal, his lips swollen and glossy. "I know all of your weak spots, Y/N. Know you love being held down and forced to take it. No one else will ever make you feel as good as I do."

He latched back onto you, and you felt the orgasm that hadn't even had time to completely fade away being rebuilt, the sensation of his tongue buried deep inside you and his fingers stroking at your swollen bud pushing you further and further to the edge. Your fingers tugged at his scalp as you felt the wave wash over you, your walls clenching and spasming around his tongue as he pressed his face further against you, wanting to be completely soaked as you came on his face.

Jungkook chuckled against you as he watched your fucked out expression, your eyes slightly crossed and lips parted as the world disappeared, his touch the only thing grounding you. He licked away until you started pushing his head back, and back he went.

But not as back as you were expecting. 

You were suddenly sprung back to reality when you felt his tongue against your other entrance, smearing saliva and the evidence of your orgasm onto the rim. You tried pushing his head back away, but he stayed firm, letting go of your thighs for one arm to circle around your waist. Your legs fell back as you folded in half, knees now above your shoulders into the mattress, your ass in his face with no where to hide. Your face burned with embarrassment, "No! Not there!"

He laughed, giving you another lick. "Stupid little girl. Hearing your little moans as you try to protest only makes me want to tease you more."

You bit your lip, trying to contain the moan as you felt his stiffened tongue breach the barrier past your rim, slowly inching further and further against you. Never in your life had you had a man eat your ass, and Jeon Jungkook was going to be the first.

"You—You—" You couldn't even truly begin your sentence as the arm not wrapped around your waist, holding you up, reached around and pinched your clit again. The overstimulated little nub sent jolts of pleasure and pain throughout you, and your torture only persisted.

Jungkook came back up, pinching your clit harder and laughing in your face as you cried. "Wonder if I can make your little pussy cum from just this," he said aloud, spitting on the wrinkled rim before inserting his tongue again, like he was trying to shove his spit into your hole as far as the muscle would allow.

You kicked your legs that were in the air, trying to free yourself from the uncomfortable position,a burn in your calves as they surrounded you. So much blood was rushing to your head, you couldn't think properly with his tongue buried in your ass and your body folded under his whim like you were simply origami paper.

What was worse that it felt so fucking good, Jungkook's daring tongue in your previously unexplored hole doing wonders, his confidence and lack of shame or shyness making him bury himself as deep as he could. His arm around your waist tightened, trying to pull your ass up higher against his face, and his fingers were rubbing circles into you.

Fuck, he was really going to make you cum from eating your ass!

At the worst possible moment, the door swung open completely, and another hulking shadow appeared.

You looked up in horror, realizing how embarrassing the position was. There you were, folded in half, ass in Jungkook's face while his tongue was buried inside, and pussy neglected and squeezing around nothing as your impending orgasm approached. 

"Well well well, what have we here?"

Taehyung's amused expression at your predicament did nothing to quell your humiliation, his eyes scouring your naked body, from your flushed face to your sweaty form. You weakly kicked your feet again, trying to squirm out of Jungkook's hold, but he didn't let up, only holding onto you tighter and forcing you to take it, all in front of Taehyung.

Finally he pulled his tongue out, acknowledging the uninvited guest. "Tae, come here and help me hold her down."

Taehyung didn't need to be told twice, ignoring your shriek and grabbing your ankles, pinning them down to the mattress. He smirked down at you, obviously loving how helpless you were beneath the two men, his presence only adding to your embarrassment. 

"Suck her clit. Don't put anything in her pussy yet, she's on time out." That was all Jungkook said before he returned to eating your ass, unashamed in front of his friend.

Taehyung did as told, lips on your pussy without hesitation. He sucked on your clit, his tongue roving over the area as you squirmed and tried to kick again, but his grip on your ankles kept you glued in place. You felt both of them smile against you, enjoying how you struggled beneath them, unable to move even a single inch.

"Fuck," Taehyung finally said, deep voice making you clench around nothing, letting go of your clit as you squealed. "Tastes so fucking good."

"I know," Jungkook chuckled, letting some of the drool from the tip of his tongue drip onto your winking asshole, adding to the lubrication. "She gets so fucking wet when you manhandle her. She's a total masochist."

"Is that right?" One of Taehyung's hands let go of your ankles to land a sharp spank on your ass, having you wiggle and moan beneath them at the smarting pain. He laughed, spanking your other cheek too, looking down at your teary expression with absolute glee. "Fuck, you're right. She's loving this."

"She's so fucking dirty. She loves having me eat her ass. Was so shy at first, but now look at her."

"Mm, I can tell. She looks like she's gonna cum any minute." Taehyung licked against your clit again, savoring the whimper that escaped you. "Are you gonna cum? Don't even have anything in that little pussy and you're already squirming like you're gonna burst. Bet you hate being so empty."

He sucked on your clit again with renewed fervor, Jungkook's tongue curling inside you as they both drove you crazy. Taehyung's hand reached down to your bare chest, twisting your nipple to hear you whine, nails digging in a little as he cruelly twisted. He smiled against your clit again, teeth barely nipping at your folds to make you cry more for them. His was just as evil as Jungkook.

"C'mon, cum for us. Maybe we'll let you have something in your pussy again," Jungkook grunts, words muffled. "Show Taehyung what a fuckslut you are."

Your ass clenched on his tongue, hips bucking what little they can against Taehyung's face as your third orgasm overtook you. Your thighs trembled, and you felt only the sensation of two mouths on your most intimate parts, devouring every part that was accessible to them. Your moan was practically whorish, your neighbors no doubt ready to leave a noise complaint with your landlord at the disturbance.

Once you finished shaking beneath them, they finally let you go, letting you crumple between them on the sheets, body limp and practically lifeless from the three orgasms forced out of you. You breathed heavily, mind hazy as the orgasmic fog took over your brain. You barely processed Jungkook pulling you into his arms, sitting you between his legs and spreading your own over his.

His fingers reached down, spreading your lips and revealing your twitching sex to both, your clit swollen and folds puffy from the abuse you endured.

"You're such a good slut for us," he rasped into your ear, his voice sending tingles down your spine. "Pretended to hate this so much, but now look at you. I guess you deserve some reward."

Your eyes widened as you realized what that meant. You try to close your legs again, but Taehyung halts you, hands on your knees and keeping you spread out and exposed to them. You looked at both pleadingly. "Please, no more, I feel like I'll die if I cum again."

Jungkook only smiled cruelly at that, the hand on your pussy coming down to smack your swollen sex yet again, making you yelp. "Taehyung, why don't you finger her a bit?"

Taehyung grinned, digits coming up and sliding across your puffy cunt, circling your entrance before inserting two fingers already. He hissed as he felt you squeeze around him, barely giving him room to move. "Fuck, she's so tight, even after cumming so much."

You felt Jungkook's smirk against your ear. "Yeah, gonna have to stretch her out to fit my cock. Think it'll break her?"

Taehyung chuckled, crooking his fingers up and sliding them in and out of you. "You might. Don't know how she's gonna take you. Her pussy's just so fucking tiny."

"I'll have to make her take it. She'll like it better that way anyways. She pretended like she didn't want this earlier, but her body doesn't lie." Jungkook peeled your hands away from Taehyung's wrist, refusing to let you pull him away. He held your wrists in each hand, holding them up as he admired the shine on Taehyung's digits every time he pulled them out of your pussy. "Do you like how he fingers you, princess? Masochistic pussy just can't get enough. Want Tae to make you cum again?"

"F-Fuck," you whimpered, unable to answer, your brain practically mush at this point. "I... I'm..."

"Shh, it's ok baby. I know you're too dumb to talk right now," Jungkook cooed mockingly in your ear, lips brushing against the shell. "It's alright. You're just gonna take what we have to give you like a good little slut, isn't that right?"

You nodded dumbly, moaning again as Taehyung hit that weak spot inside of you that had your eyes rolling back. You weren't sure how much more you could endure, but you knew the two of them wouldn't give you any other choice.

"You should thank him for letting you cum so much," Taehyung scolded, bullying his fingers deeper into you, spreading them and scissoring you open. "Whores like you should learn how to give respect."

"She never gives me respect," Jungkook said, letting go of one of your wrists to meanly slap your cunt again, making you buck against Taehyung. "That's how she got in this position in the first place."

"Bitch just needed to be put in her place, is that right?" Taehyung chuckled. 

"Th-Thank y-y-you," you weakly stammered out.

Jungkook ran his fingers over your sore cunt, soothing the sting as he studied your expression. Tears had sprung at the corners of your eyes, and you looked as though you were about to bawl any minute. "I'm not sure she's learned quite yet."

His middle finger traveled down to your entrance, sliding in easily due to your wetness and joining right above Taehyung's. You sharply inhaled at the feeling, your free hand coming to wrap around Jungkook's wrist, which he ignored. Instead he let go of your other hand, wrapping his own around your throat and giving it a light squeeze.

"It's so much," you gasped out, feeling their fingers move in tandem, stretching you.

Both chuckled.

"Oh baby, you're gonna need a lot more than that if you want to take me," Jungkook smirked, nipping at the shell of your ear. "I'm much bigger than that, remember?" He squeezed your neck, like he was reminding you how he filled your throat before.

"He's right, baby. I've seen him in the locker room. You'll have to be completely stretched out if you want to fit him in this tight little pussy." Taehyung laughed at your fearful expression, pumping his fingers in harder. "I don't think you'll be able to handle it. He's gonna split you in half and have you crying before he get halfway in, I bet."

"You're scaring her," Jungkook teased, slipping in another finger, watching as you keened at the feeling of four thick digits stretching you out. "I think she likes it, though."

"Course she does. Little slut is begging to be filled, isn't that right?" Taehyung reached with his free hand and grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him. "Bet you've been dreaming of his cock, haven't you?"

"Yes..." you weakly admitted.

"Fucking pathetic," Jungkook rasped in your ear, curling his fingers harder, pumping faster in time with Taehyung. His palm was flush against your swollen folds, grinding against your clit as he jackhammered his curled fingers into your g-spot. "Is that why you're such a bitch to me, always? Huh? Hoping I'd do this to you? Treat you like a slut, ruin you for anyone else? Finally give you my cock and shut you up?"

"It's real big, baby, you're gonna feel so full," Taehyung crooned. "I don't think any other cock will satisfy you after that. You'll really belong to Jungkook then."

"Gonna make her crawl and beg for me to put it inside her," Jungkook hissed between gritted teeth. "Watch how pretty she cries when I'm finally balls deep inside her."

"Fuck, she's getting wetter just thinking about it. Disgusting little slut is gonna cum just thinking about your dick in her." Taehyung's cruel cackle rang in your ears. "She really is fucking pathetic."

The loud squelching noises of them abusing and stretching out your wet cunt were too much to bear. You weakly nodded in Taehyung's grip, the tears finally falling down your face as you felt the familiar pressure building up. He leaned in, licking up a tear on your cheek and making you whine.

"Fuck, fuck, I'm gonna cum! I can't, it's—"

"Shh, you will," Jungkook said in a belittling tone, smile evident in his voice and against your ear. "Gonna cum on me and Tae's fingers like a good girl, come on. Give us one more."

"Yeah, baby, show me how pretty you look falling apart."

Jungkook bit into your shoulder, the pain sending you spiraling towards the edge. And you did, your walls contracting around their fingers stuffed inside you, legs quivering as they made you a complete, utter mess between them.

You came, and everything around you shattered.

—

You bolted upward, drenched in sweat once again and gasping for breath. You took in your surroundings, the ceiling fan spinning above you, your living room in its typically pristine state due to Jungkook's tidy habits. Your stomach flipped when you realized the uncomfortable feeling in your panties was because they were drenched, and prayed that it hadn't somehow spilled through your shorts and onto the sofa.

Fuck, you really though you'd be safe just napping on the couch. Instead you had a sex dream yet again that seemed like it lasted hours. 

You cursed, realizing you were still wearing Jungkook's hoodie. You had tugged it on pretty much as soon as he left the apartment, breathing in his scent and letting the soft fabric lull you into a false sense of security. You figured you could borrow it for just a moment; your apartment AC was on full blast, surely using his hoodie for just a few minutes would be reasonable!  But no, instead you had a wet dream in it, consumed in the scent of his cologne and brain filled with images of him and his friend tag-teaming you to nearly cum to death. You definitely needed to wash this from any of the sweat that was inside, and fast.

Your head whipped around to the door, looking toward your shared key bowl. Only your keys remained. Good. Jungkook was still at dinner with Taehyung. That gave you some time.

You warily looked back to the stack of thick notebooks, the sliver of red at the bottom taunting you for your sick fantasies. Grumbling, you swiped it from underneath the rest, flipping past your most recent entry and scribbling down the details from the consequences of your nap. 

You put in everything, the details nasty and graphic as you left nothing out— from Jungkook making you cum repeatedly, fingering you, eating your pussy and then your ass, having Taehyung join in. Every slap and degrading demand for obedience, the way he cooed in your ear and choked you to remind you what had been inside last dream, all of it. You wrote frantically, needing to get the images that flashed across your eyes out before Jungkook's return. 

You had just about finished when you heard the jangle of keys in your front door, and panicked as you shoved the notebook back in place, spinning around to face Jungkook with a smile that could only be described as guilty. 

Jungkook stepped in, eyes glancing to where your head popped up over the couch. 

"Welcome home!" You uncharacteristically greeted. Don't think about how his tongue felt buried inside you. Don't make it obvious you were just imagining him and his friend sharing you like you were a pocket pussy.

He stopped, clearly taken aback by your behavior. "Um... thanks?"

"How was dinner?" You tugged at the hoodie, feeling a trickle of sweat run down your back. Fuck, hopefully you hadn't cum so hard it was permeating in the air. The mere thought of it made you want to die.

"It was fine..." Jungkook furrowed his brows, his expression suspicious. "Taehyung got the waitress's number."

"Oh! That's great to hear." Your eyes never left his lips, an ache between your legs as you recalled how he had used his mouth in your dream. Fuck, were you crazy to want to feel it right now? "He's not with you?"

"Nah. He just dropped me off. Why? You wanting him to hit on you again?" A flash of annoyance crossed his features. 

"Pshhh, he didn't mean any of that. He was just trying to ruffle your feathers or something," you dismissed. "I'm sure he'll be plenty occupied with the waitress."

"Right..." He stepped closer to you, which only heightened your anxiety. The scent of his cologne as he neared in proximity was only making you sweat harder. "Are you ok?"

"Never better!" You chirped. "W-Why?"

"You're acting weird... and your face is all flushed." Jungkook narrowed his eyes, stepping closer and reaching a hand out to your forehead. "Are you coming down with something?"

"N-No! It's just hot in here!" You jumped back, not trusting yourself to not scream if he was able to get his hands on you. You stood from the couch, out of arm's reach.

"It's like, freezing in here." Jungkook's eyes flashed down to your attire. "Is that my hoodie?"

"Oh, this?" You internally cursed at yourself for not remembering to take it off. "Well, you're right, it's freezing, so I decided to just put this on, y'know? Figured you wouldn't mind, I mean, you left it on the sofa. I'm sorry. A-and I got really hot in it, so that's why I'm sweating! Crazy how that works. Here, let me give it back." You reached for the bottom of it to yank it off, but suddenly remember you probably soaked the clothes beneath with your sweat too, and that could not be a good look. You lift your arms back down. "...Later." 

Jungkook's concerned expression didn't leave, and he stared at you as though you had grown two heads. "Y/N... are you sure you're alright?"

"Yup! Right as rain!" You nervously laughed. "I'll give this back to you in the morning. Sorry for borrowing it without asking."

"It's fine, I don't mind." He gave you one last glance over before hesitantly turning toward his room. "I'll... leave you be, then."

You watched as he turned his back, letting out small breath of relief and letting go of the tension you were unaware you were holding. Still, something gnawed at you. Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, "Jungkook, wait."

He turned his head, clearly surprised with all of your antics this evening. "Yeah?"

"I, um," you tried to choose your words carefully. "I'm sorry for insinuating you were a sleaze. It'd be none of my business even if you were one."

Now he was really staring at you like you were from another planet. You? Genuinely apologizing to him? Unheard of.  "Er— thank you?" He didn't seem as though he were processing this in real time. "I— You didn't have to... Thanks."

You nodded your head, pressing your lips together as you felt the newfound awkwardness between you two hang in the air. This was new. In all the years you spent with Jungkook,, awkwardness was never something you endured. "That's it. I just wanted to say that. To you."

"I appreciate it." 

You spun on your heel to turn to your own room. "Well, that's that! Bye!"

You didn't even make it one step when you felt something grab your wrist.

"Wait."

You slowly turned, eyes glued to the inked fingers wrapped around you, your mind flashing back to how he held you back as Taehyung split you open with his fingers in your dream. Your eyes traveled up to Jungkook's face, his expression nervous as his other hand scratched the back of his neck. His eyes were locked on yours, unwavering.

"I wanted you to know it really isn't something I do often. I... It was a one time thing, and I was a bit tipsy and it just happened. I'm really not like that, usually."

The type to hook up with random women, or the type who did what he apparently did, in that way?

You gulped, trying not to think about it. "It's alright, Jungkook. You don't owe me an explanation."

"I know. I just... felt like you should know."

"Oh." Your lips pursed and went small, and you were unsure what to make of the situation. "Ok."

His eyes scanned your face, trying to read what you were thinking to no avail. He finally let go of your wrist, and where he touched felt like it burned. "I'm... going to make you some soup or something. You're really burning up."

Your hands flew to your cheeks, and it felt like you were practically boiling alive. "Oh," you said again. "Thank you."

Maybe you really were coming down with something. One could only hope it had all just been some fucked up fever dream.

—

One time was just a strange, fucked up incident. Twice was merely a coincidence.

Right?

At least that's what you told yourself as the days passed. You very much were not sick, as it turned out, but Jungkook made halfway-decent chicken soup, so who were you to complain? Besides... it was kind of sweet.

All you had to do was avoid him in your tiny, tiny ass apartment. All you had to do was not absolutely ogle him every time he came back from a run, drenched in sweat, shirt hugging him in all the right places. You just needed to turn around and go back to your room when he popped out of the shower, inexcusably indecent despite living with a woman.

You had to remind yourself also that he didn't see you as a woman. You were Y/N, the girl who saw him as nothing more than scum at the bottom of her shoe, someone he had known for his entire life.

He could never, ever know about the secrets hidden beneath his stack of notes.

You considered briefly stealing the book and hiding it in your room, but considering how meticulous and anal Jungkook was about details, there was no doubt he'd notice its absence immediately. Maybe you could buy another book and swap them out?

But... sometimes when you were sure he was asleep or out of the apartment, you'd shuffle past the rose toys and handcuffs in your nightstand drawer, and pull out your trusty Hitachi, plugging it into your extension cord and thinking back to the dreams that haunted you. You'd grab the notebook, eyes scanning over the graphic words, recounting every last nasty thing that had happened in your imagination. You had become quite the writer, it seemed.

Knowing that it was your mind that had created these scenarios with him was baffling. Sure, you had no one to blame but yourself, but you still felt Jungkook should take some accountability for the state you were in.

The worst times were when you'd hear his room or the front door open, and you'd have to hastily yank the cord out of the outlet and let your orgasm die out. You'd silently pray he didn't catch the low buzz emanating from your room, or notice the stack of notebooks was a little bit shorter. Worst of all, you'd have to let your orgasm fade away, knowing that the walls were too thin and the space was too cramped for you to be getting away with indulging in your lewd fantasies. 

It was like he was unknowingly edging you, which only pissed you off further.

Jungkook was busy showering when you snuck back into the living room, slipping your favorite notebook out from beneath the stack. Unfortunately it was one of those days at work that left you completely exhausted and frustrated beyond belief, and you knew you were going to need all the stress relief you could get tonight. Sure, was obsessively rereading the porno scenarios you came up with about your roommate wrong? Indulging in your fantasies that you could never actually partake in? A debatable maybe. But what Jungkook didn't know wouldn't hurt him. 

You heard the water turn off, and despite knowing you should hide back in your bedroom, you stayed. Just a peek. Just a little boost for your session tonight, that's all you'd need.

As usual, Jungkook emerged only in a towel hugging dangerously low on his waist. It was pretty much a sin for him to come out like that.

Your gaze explored his impeccable form, the sight of his bare chest and abs most likely enough masturbation material on its own. Pulling a face, you glowered at him. "Why don't you just bring your change of clothes with you when you go in? Or do you just like strutting around the apartment naked?"

He rolled his eyes, running a towel along his hair. "It's just you. What's the big deal?"

You huffed, sliding the notebook to straighten back in place beneath the stack before he could take notice. "Just me. Right."

His brows furrowed. "What? I meant—"

"No no, I know what you meant," you said, standing from the sofa to retreat back to your room. "I hardly see you as a person anyways, much less a man."

He quirked a brow. "Is that so?"

"It is."

"Then why are you always checking me out?"

You felt your blood freeze, and suddenly you're so, very still. You turn your head to him, blinking rapidly, mind scrambling to come up with a response. 

"You're delusional," you spat.

"You were doing it just now. You do it every time I step out of the shower, you should be used to it by now."

You guffawed at his accusation. "I-I do not! How do you expect me to react, seeing a man prance around my apartment half naked?"

His lips quirked up at your words. "I thought you didn't see me as a man."

Your eyes practically bulged out of your head in anger. "I don't. Like you'd be any different if I was always walking around here in nothing but a towel! Bet you'd just love that, perv."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Y/N." 

He finally turned around to disappear into his room, leaving you to grab one of the sofa pillows and scream into it out of frustration. Fuck. He had noticed. You should've known you were being too obvious, but you just couldn't help yourself.

And you definitely didn't sleep well that night.

—

Jungkook had you bent over the kitchen counter, your pajama pants pooled around your ankles, his hands squeezing your hips as he rubbed his bulge against your ass. You whined, trying to buck back and grind against him harder, but he kept you in place, pushing you against the counter until your hips were flush against the cold surface.

"You want me to finally put it in you?" He asked huskily in your ear. "Think you can take it?"

You nodded, desperate and pleading, reaching back so you could pull him closer. He didn't let you, grabbing your hands and slapping them down on the counter, grinding his hips harder as you felt the full length of him against you, hidden behind fabric.

"Need it, Jungkook, so bad."

"Mm, know you do," he hummed, "But do you deserve it?"

You think back on your behavior that day and shamefully shook your head. "I don't," you quietly admitted.

He smiled against your ear. "Right answer."

Your heart leaped as he let go of one of your hands, hearing the rustling of clothes as he rid himself of his pants. You gasped as you felt the full length of him land between your cheeks, the size feeling so much bigger than you remembered. Your legs shook, and your pussy got wetter in anticipation.

"Gonna split that tiny pussy in half, just the way you like it," Jungkook promised, grabbing one of your legs and lifting it up. He turned you so you were facing the side, one of your legs in the air as he hooked your ankle over one of his shoulders. He grabbed your hair, forcing you to look down at his enormous cock so close to your pussy, threatening to plunge into you. You bit your lip, feeling yourself involuntarily clench around nothing just looking at the mere size of him.

"This is what you wanted, right?" He asked under his breath, grabbing his cock and running the tip over your folds, letting it travel up to your clit and down to your entrance, but never pushing. "The cock you've been obsessing over like a desperate little slut?"

You nodded in his hold, licking your lips. "Yeah that's," you let out a shaky breath. "That's what I wanted."

"Yeah?" He slowly breached your hole, pushing in just the head, only about an inch, before pulling out, watching the disappointment and impatience in your expression. "Fuck, you're making such a mess on the floor and I haven't even put it in yet."

You looked down, and sure enough the way he teased you with his cock was enough to leave your wet pussy dripping onto the kitchen tiles, a small puddle beneath you.

You moved your hips back, trying to entice him into putting it in again, just a bit deeper. "Please don't tease me."

"But it's so fun. I think you like being bullied, in fact," he slaps his cock against your pussy, watching you wince with each tap. "I think you get wetter the meaner I get."

You shook your head in denial, but he had none of it, hand letting go of his cock to slap against your ass, making you jump. The one leg you stood on shook beneath you, and he hugged the one pressed against him tighter, giving you an uncomfortable stretch and leaving you exposed to one half of the room. "None of that. We both know the truth. You're just a little masochist who wants me to fuck the shit out of her. A desperate little slut."

He positioned the tip back at your hole, sliding in the tip and an inch extra, laughing at how you gasped and stretched around the bulbous head. "So fucking tight. How am I supposed to fit my cock in here, huh?"

"M-Make it fit," you insisted, biting your lip as he pushed in an extra inch.

"Yeah? Would it help if Taehyung was on his knees right now, licking that little clit to make you wetter for me?" Jungkook teased, pulling out again slightly before continuing his shallow thrust.

You shook your head again. You wouldn't be able to handle both of them again, especially with Jungkook's cock inside you this time. "No, don't want him, just need you. Just want you."

"Oh?" He bullied in another inch, watching your face contort at how full you were feeling already. He was only about halfway in. "Why don't you touch your clit and make it easier on yourself, huh? Get this pussy nice and wet for me."

It didn't matter that you were already embarrassingly wet, you did as you were told, a shaky hand coming down to run along your folds.

Jungkook tsked. "Not like that. Do it the way I would."

You brought your hand up a bit higher, rubbing small circles along it.

"That's not it. We both know I wouldn't be so sweet with you."

Jungkook sunk into you a bit deeper and reached around, smacking your hand away and pinching the poor bud between two fingers, using force as he rubbed it. He snickered at your reaction. "Thaaat's it. Feel how you clench around me? Pussy feels so good, doesn't want to let me go."

You panted, feeling him go deeper into you than you had ever experienced, and the stretch had you feeling so full you were going crazy. And he wasn't even all the way in yet.

"Fuck, you feel so fucking good. Just needed a nice, fat cock to shut you up, isn't that right?" He chuckled, sliding in just a bit more, his fingers tapping against your engorged clit with teasing pats. "Little brat just needed to be filled."

With that he finally pushed completely in, balls pressed beneath you as he buried himself to the hilt. The tip pressed snuggly against your cervix, as though you two were a perfect fit. Tears sprung in your eyes from how overwhelmed you were, and he twisted your face to look at him, his cocky, satisfied grin taunting you. He stayed still like that, letting you enjoy the uncomfortable stretch of your thighs and pussy around his enormous cock, all while forcing you to look at him, so it'd be ingrained in your mind who did this to you. 

"You're nothing but a hole to take my cock right now," he said lowly, the words a gentle caress in your ear. "Know you like it that way, too."

Another drop splashed onto the embarrassing puddle beneath you.

"Feel that?" His hand stopped torturing your clit and came up to your stomach, pushing right below your belly button, making you feel him inside. "Feel how deep I am? Has anyone reached here, baby?"

You shook your head, your pussy squeezing around him as you tried to adjust to his size.

He chuckled. "Didn't think so. Bet you feel nice and full. Aren't you so lucky?"

"Yes, I am, fuck." You tried to blink away the tears. His cock was fucking enormous, hitting sweet spots inside you you didn't even know existed. You really did feel like you were being split in half. "You're so fucking big."

"Yeah baby? Like the way I stretch you out? You took it so well, didn't know you had it in you." He pressed harder against the bulge protruding in your abdomen, letting you feel how deep it was. "Now I want you imagine what it'll be like when I finally fuck you with it."

—

You gasped, feeling all too sticky for your liking. You glanced at the clock. 

4:45 AM.

Slowing your breath, you grabbed one of your pillows and screamed into it, kicking at your ruined sheets.

Fuck, it really wasn't over.

You had a problem.

It continued like that for much longer than you had ever hoped. Early morning laundry at the most ridiculous times. Downing coffee constantly because you were practically afraid of falling asleep again and seeing him. Jungkook had completely ruined your sleep schedule. You ended up buying another set of sheets to add to the rotation, and now you were filling up the notebook with more porn than the calculus notes it started off with. 

You were frustrated beyond belief, Jungkook taunting you every waking and sleeping moment. It's not like he had any clue, which only made it worse. He got to obliviously prance around the place, whereas you were suffering in his mere presence. Admittedly you were taking out your unwarranted frustration on him, but you couldn't help it. Every time you were greeted with those innocent, doe eyes you were reminded of the sadistic glint in them the night before. Your body had a reaction any time you saw him, your insides screaming and a heartbeat in your nether regions when he so much as glanced to you.

You became much more snippy with him, cutting conversations short and being much more bitchy than usual, and that was saying something.

Poor Jungkook had no clue what he had done so wrong.

"Seriously, what has been your issue?" He confronted you, arms crossed as he caged you into the kitchen, blocking the way out.

"You," you snapped, downing a cup of coffee, trying not to think of the dream that had left your panties drenched.

Both of your handcuffs had been used to lock your wrists on either bedpost, your sleep mask covering your eyes as you leaned forward, arms straining as you tried to break free. Your mouth was gaping, tongue dangling from your mouth like a dog, Jungkook's cock mere centimeters from your lips. You could practically taste the pre-cum that was oozing out of the tip.

Jungkook's hands gripped the bedpost above you, hips just far back enough to deny you of what you were craving. His cruel chuckle met your ears as he watched your desperation.

"C'mon, you're barely even trying. You must not want it bad enough."

You tried to inch forward more, barely getting any closer.

"That's it, you're almost there." Jungkook took his cock in one hand and stroked it slowly, hand twisting over the head to spread the lubricant over it. "You want my cock so bad. C'mon, know you can almost taste it."

You mewled when you finally felt the tip on your lips, licking over the small slit and sticking your tongue out so you could twirl it around the head.

You snapped out of the daydream and back to reality, the taste of Jungkook's pre-cum still being on the tip of your tongue. Your face burned as you tried to step past him, but he blocked your exit.

"Yeah, it's always me, which I don't get because I've been completely decent to you. I thought we were actually getting along for a second. But lately you've just been a complete bitch to me for no reason."

You fumed, not in the mood for the conversation. Sure, Real-Jungkook had been civilized, but Dream-Jungkook had been nothing but an animal. "What? You were expecting me to like you all of the sudden? Please."

You tried to step around him again, but he stepped to the same side, not letting up. "We used to get along as kids, y'know. What happened?"

You did not want to think about when you were kids. "I realized I hated you. I still hate you. Simple."

"Why?" His nostrils flared. "I never understood it. One day you suddenly decided you wanted nothing to do with me. What's the reason?"

Your mouth dropped open as your mind scrambled for an explanation, but nothing came out.

Jungkook let out a scoff.  "You can't fucking stand me, and you don't even know why. It's pathetic."

Pathetic. That word rung in your head, the same word he'd whisper into your ear in your dreams when he made you cum over and over again. Your face burned up more, and you took a step back, putting up an accusatory finger. "Please! Don't act like you like me all of the sudden. We only moved in together out of convenience, not because we're actually friends or anything."

He bared his teeth, glaring at you. "You know what? You're right. I hate you too. Can't fucking stand you right now."

"Good!" you shot back.

He finally moved out of the way towards his room, and you stomped out of the kitchen to the sofa, turning your back to grab at the notebook, fire in your veins. He was the reason you were suffering so much, and you knew just from seeing him pissed you were going to have another rough night. 

"What the fuck is up with you and that book?" Jungkook hissed. Apparently he hadn't gone to his room just yet. Stupid you, not waiting until you heard his door closed.

You spun around, scowling. "What, a girl can't fucking learn now and then?"

"You're always going through it, I didn't even write that many notes."

"Well I have to go over it again and again since I didn't take Calc 1, remember?" You quickly tried to cover your tracks, gripping onto the book like it were a life line. "Stop being so obsessed with me and mind your business, maybe."

Jungkook gritted his teeth, a vein popping up along his neck out of anger. "Fucking whatever. Suit yourself."

Finally, you heard his door slam shut, and you let out a breath of relief.

—

Luckily for you, Jungkook's finals were coming up, so your real-life interactions with him were much more limited. Most of the time he would simply give you a grunt of acknowledgement when you came home from work, sitting at the sofa, surrounded by his notes. At first you got a bit anxious that he was so close to your previous book, but the bottom half of the stack remained mostly undisturbed. Hell, he was now sleeping in more and skipping his morning runs, up late studying, which meant when you were up from one of those terrible, awful, no good dreams, you could do your laundry and scribble in the book in peace.

You were running out of pages, and seriously had to consider going out and buying a notebook of your own if this were to keep up. You weren't sure how much more of this could take. Maybe it'd be worth it to move back in with your parents. At least then you'd be freed of this torment. 

You were having to buy so many things lately. New bedsheets for the rotation. Another book for you to scribble out the depraved fantasies that should never see the light of day. Hell, maybe even a new vibrator, because Dream-Kook just loved reminding you how much you needed to be filled, and it seemed to be more and more true every day. He was turning out to be quite the expense.

Occasionally you considered sleeping with someone else to get it out of your system. Maybe taking up Taehyung on his offer. He was in a dream too, after all. But Jungkook was already beyond pissed at you, and sleeping with his friend would surely and rightfully send him over the edge. You were afraid what would happen if he were to actually snap, and with how much you two had been bickering lately, his patience was clearly running thin. Even if you were to bring another man home with you, something told you it wasn't a great idea. For some reason you hated the idea of Jungkook knowing.

Even in your dreams he seemed to taunt you about it.

"Now what would you do that for? You know no one can satisfy you the way I can, stretch you out as like me. Why don't you stop wasting everyone's time and just ask? Maybe beg nicely and I'll actually give you what you want."

Nope. Not happening. There was absolutely no way you could let Jungkook know you had been thinking about him like this. If your sinful thoughts ever got to him, you'd never hear the end of it. The mere thought of him finding out mortified you. It was bad enough he had caught you checking him out one too many times. What would happen if he were to discover every graphic detail of what you dreamt of him doing to you?

Work had been hell. It seemed your dreams had morphed into daydreams, distracting you throughout the day now and invading every aspect of your life. You had zoned out thinking about Jungkook using BDSM tape, covering your pussy to trap his cum inside, and turning your Hitachi on the highest setting as it pressed against you.

Let's just say you were less than productive today. Clearly your desires were morphing becoming depraved by the day. You were going clinically insane. 

You muttered to yourself as you fumbled with your keys in the door. You had to stay overtime to make up for the work lost during your daydreaming. Honestly, you should find some way to legally sue Jeon Jungkook. It was the least you could do. This sleep deprivation was a literal form of torture, who could blame you for going a bit insane? That's what you told yourself when you ate some of Jungkook's cinnamon buns out of retribution. At least you had tomorrow off.

Tonight you were going to wait until the Jungkook eventually tired himself out from studying, and go ham on yourself with the Hitachi. Write down the little daydream that had you squirming in your seat, too. You uncomfortably pulled at your skirt and smoothed over your button down, noting to yourself that you should probably wear pants to work for the foreseeable future. 

You slammed the door shut, seeing Jungkook hunched over his papers as usual. You gave him a passing grunt of acknowledgement, tossing your keys into the bowl.

He looked up at you from over the couch, and there was something in his eyes you couldn't quite place. He seemed almost angry, which didn't make sense because you had just gotten here. Did he know you ate one of his protein bars this morning or something? Maybe he was just frustrated from studying. 

"Not even a hello?" You scoffed. Usually he'd at least grunt back at you. Rude.

You walked past the couch to go to your room, but spotted something from the corner of your eye. 

In Jungkook's hand was his red Calc 2 notebook. 

Your eyes widened, and you tried to keep your face as neutral as possible as your mind scrambled. No. There was no way. He never even touched that fucking book! He finished that class a semester ago, why would he? Maybe he didn't go to the last pages. He himself knew he only filled out maybe a third of it, he probably stayed in that section. 

Your eyes darted between your bedroom door and your front door, weighing the two options. Should you lock yourself in your bedroom and refuse to come out? You'd probably wither and starve in there, but it'd be better than inevitably having to come out and face Jungkook. Maybe go back to the front door and drive away? That'll look too suspicious!

Calm down, Y/N!

You halted your hesitation, taking shaky steps toward your bedroom. You were just being paranoid. That's it.

You twisted the knob, opening it barely an inch before a tattooed hand above you slammed it back shut.

You froze.

Slowly turning around and facing up, you gulped in fear, coming face to face with Jungkook.

He now hovered over you, eyes dark as he caged you in with his large body, notebook clutched tightly in the hand that wasn't refusing you access to your bedroom.

He seemed much too calm for your liking, eerily quiet as he took in your nervous expression, the way you trembled like a leaf underneath him already, guilt written all over your face.

Jungkook lifted the notebook to eye level, the sharpied Calc 2 title taunting you. "Care to tell me what this is?"

Your mouth felt very dry all of the sudden, and your eyes flitted about your surroundings, searching for an escape. "Y-Your notes?"

"Oh really? Because I don't remember writing," he opened the book with one hand, letting it land on a random page, "about how I was so deep inside you, you felt me in the back of your throat."

You felt all the blood drain from your face, color being washed away. You were too ashamed to even look at him. "I... I can explain."

"Oh I'd love an explaination." He snapped the book shut dramatically. "I'd love to hear whatever excuse you came up with as to why you used nearly 200 of my pages to write twisted porn about me."

You wanted to die. You wanted die right here, right now. For the floor to swallow you whole.

Your mouth dropped, but no sound escaped you. What could you say? He clearly saw everything. Every goddamn graphic detail you had scribbled into that stupid book had now come to bite you in the ass.

"Thought you didn't see me as a man, Y/N." He tsked, narrowing his eyes as he waved the book in your face. "Was wondering what had you so fucking obsessed with this. Knew you weren't just studying my fucking calculus notes. How long have you been writing these sick fantasies in here, huh?"

You stared down at the floor, and Jungkook grabbed your jaw, forcing you to make eye contact with him. He looked beyond pissed. You tried to swallow, your knees threatening to give out under you. "S-Since I talked to Layla."

A small breath escaped his lips. "Is that right?" His mouth quirked up, a near smirk appearing on his face. "What'd she tell you, huh?"

You shook your head, closing your eyes.

He craned your neck up, forcing your to arch your back against the door, the back of your head now pressed against it. He gritted his teeth. "Answer me," he demanded.

"Told me you were big," you gasped out. "That you were rough. And mean."

Jungkook tilted his head. "Is that right?"

Your bottom lip trembled, feeling the blood now rush to your cheeks. You couldn't escape Jungkook's tight grasp or scrutinizing glare, forced to feel the humiliation from being caught. "It's all your fault," you deflected. "It's your fucking fault I've been having these dreams. You made me do it."

"I did?" His nostrils flared, fingers tensing around your face, pressing into your cheeks with anger. Your lips jutted out, rendering you silent. "You're blaming me for you writing out this absolute filth? About how you begged for my cock, how you dreamed of me putting my tongue anywhere I pleased, using you? No, you don't get to put this on me."

"I do!" You barely managed to gasp the words out through his grip. Your hands reached for the notebook, but he held it out of your reach, refusing to give it up. You wrenched your face free from his hold, glaring at him with disdain. "You've been galavanting half naked practically every day! It's your fault I haven't gotten any fucking sleep, that I'm fucking tormented with these dreams to the fact I had to write it out to get it out of my system! I haven't been able to sleep properly in weeks! I'm constantly having to wash my sheets, hide in my own fucking apartment, all because of you! I fucking hate you!"

Jungkook's gaze hardened, and suddenly he was very,very quiet.

"Is that so?"

Suddenly you regretted your words, because he twisted he knob behind you, and you felt yourself falling back into the door you had previously been leaning on. Jungkook doesn't let you hit the ground, though, hand again clasped around your jaw as he walked you backwards, letting your back hit the mattress. 

He climbed on top of you, throwing the notebook aside as he pinned you down. "Say it again."

Your eyes were wide as you stared up at him, one of his hands beside your head and the other one holding a firm grip on your jaw, forcing you to maintain eye contact. 

Very quietly, you whispered out the words. "I hate you."

That's when Jungkook did something he never had in any of your dreams.

He leaned down and kissed you.

You immediately gasped in surprise, and Jungkook didn't wait to force his tongue in your mouth, completely overwhelming you as he pressed his mouth harder against yours. You couldn't even turn away, having to take it as he explored every part of you available, his movements precise and deliberate as if he had something to lose. On instinct, and not wanting to lose, you found yourself kissing him back, pink muscle dancing with his as you kissed him harder, screwing your eyes shut and giving him everything you had. His kiss wasn't gentle or sweet, instead an angry clash of tongue and teeth as he ravished your mouth, as though he were trying to teach you a lesson through that alone. Your hands wove in his hair, the tendrils just as soft as you always imagined.

"Fucking hate you, too," he growled against your lips, the vibrations from his words making your stomach flip. "Gonna show you how much."

You couldn't fucking believe you were doing this with Jungkook, the boy you swore hated since you started becoming fully conscious. The boy, turned man, who made your stomach do somersaults and knew you since the two of you were little kids. There was so much shared history between you two that couldn't be forgotten, too many years. And here he was, licking into your mouth and swallowing every whine and whimper like it was fucking owed to him.

After what felt like forever, he finally allowed you air, both of you gasping for breath, a line of saliva still connecting you two before snapping off. He glared at you with absolute intensity, his hand letting go of your jaw to land on the other side of your head and support his weight.

Both of you were still breathless, staring at each other, your eyes wide and his narrowed.

You couldn't believe he had actually done it. You also couldn't believe that you actually liked it, a lot more in reality than you ever would have in your dreams.

"You're such a dirty liar," he hissed. "You only hate me because you want me."

"Y-You're fucking delusional," you denied, despite the fact it was clearly pointless. Anyone could see you were lying out of your ass.

"Am I?" Before you can stop him, his hand shoved your skirt up to your waist, yanking your panties and twisting the fabric as he ripped them down your thighs.

You didn't even have time to hide it. You were so embarrassingly wet, thick strings of your arousal stretching from your messy cunt to the patch in your underwear as it desperately tried to cling to it.

Jungkook scowled back at your mortified expression, eyes glued to how wet you had gotten just from his kiss and confrontation. "Don't you dare lie to me when your pussy reacts like this," he growled, hand coming up and landing a sharp smack right on your center.

You let out an wanton moan, unable to hide it as you bucked back against his hand, thighs rubbing together now like matches. Jungkook had none of it, grabbing your knees and forcing them apart so he could take a good look at your shame. His tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek as he stared at you, unable to hide the evidence of how he affected you. 

"How long were you planning on hiding this from me, huh?" His hand came up to your pussy, running between the slippery folds, your slick collecting on his fingers. "How long were you going to keep the fact that you've been having these nasty dreams about me almost every night?"

You bit your lip, closing your eyes, refusing to answer.

Jungkook didn't like that.

He slapped your cunt again, manhandling your legs back apart when you tried to shut them back together. "Fucking answer or I swear to God I'll edge you for hours."

"Forever," you admitted, shame washing over you. "You were never supposed to know."

"Oh? So you were just going to keep this a secret?" He slipped two fingers around your clit before pinching, the same way he did in your dreams, watching you whine at the sensation and squeal. "Were never going to tell me about how you thought about me fucking your face until you passed out? Or sharing you with my friend? Or how I used every nasty sex toy in your drawer on you until you were begging me to stop?"

"F-Fuck, Jungkook!" He pinched you again, rubbing harder against your clit as it became engorged. "Please, please, just—"

"What?" He rubbed slower now, tantalizing circles that made you want to grind down on him harder. "Have mercy? When you were being such a brat a minute ago?"

He didn't wait before plunging two digits inside of you, and you were so wet he didn't even meet any resistance. He curled them up, pressing them against that rough patch that had your toes curl. "I'm not going to be nice to you anymore. We both know you don't want that anyway."

Your hands wrapped around his wrist, feeling the way his muscles worked with every curl of his fingers inside of you. It felt far more overwhelming than any of your dreams already, his cologne wrapping around you and making your brain foggy, his digits moving with expertise threatening make you cum hard enough to see stars.

You couldn't give in so easily. You were mortified by the thought of him knowing it only took his fingers to make you undone.

You bit your lip, holding back your moans as best you could, swallowing every whimper that threatened to expose you. 

"What happened to all those cute moans earlier, huh princess?" His tone was belittling, making you feel smaller beneath him. "C'mon, don't be shy. You certainly weren't in that little notebook of yours."

"Was faking them," you hissed through gritted teeth, not wanting to give in. He always hated how stubborn you were.

His eyes narrowed. "Faking it huh?" He pressed his other hand down against your abdomen, shoving another finger inside of you and increasing the speed of his thrusts.  "Let's see how well you can fake it, then."

You could hardly contain your squeal as all three fingers quirked up, jackhammering into your sweet spot, his other hand pressing hard against your bladder to let you feel the pressure building up. His thumb toyed with your clit, swiping quick circles, and the sloppy lewd sounds of your wet pussy filled your room with undeniable proof. You dug your nails into his wrists, almost hard enough for him to bleed, but he didn't stop, licking his lips as if he could already taste your orgasm on his tongue.

He buried his fingers as deep as he could manage, grinding his thumb against your clit as you whimpered underneath him. A sadistic smile spread on his face as he leaned in closer, making you hear how your wet pussy swallowed his fingers. "Want me to stop? I can always leave you here like this, since you hate it so much."

You quickly shook your head, already wanting to cry at the thought, and your chest burned with humiliation as he laughed at you. He slipped his pinky into you as well, four fingers filling and stretching you, his thrusts brutal as he slammed them into you. He barely managed to squeeze all four of his digits into you, your tight cunt practically strangling them as you clenched down. "No? Don't stop? Thought you were faking it, baby."

"Please, don't... don't..!"

Your unfinished sentence hung in the air as your ass rose from the mattress, liquid spilling out of you and splashing onto Jungkook's clothes and the mattress. He cursed, fucking you harder with his fingers, wringing out every drop you had to over until you were left trembling like a leaf. His eyes looked practically insane, dark and enamored in how you fell apart beneath him, only making him want more.

When you collapsed back down, he finally pulled out, grinning as he took a long lick along his hand, tasting your cum. You were left flushed and breathless, mind blank as you tried to process the fact Jungkook had just made you squirt like that. 

"Tell me you faked that. Go ahead. Try."  You couldn't, there was no use, and he knew it. He chuckled, slapping his wet hand against your puffy sex, cruelly laughing at how your hips jumped again. "Can't believe you have such a weak pussy, cumming so easily from just my fingers. Fucking squirted everywhere, ruined my clothes. You should apologize."

"You... You made your point—"

You weren't able to finish, Jungkook's hand wrapping around your throat to cut you off.

"Shut up."

He clambered over you between your thighs, other hand coming up to your mouth. He pressed his thumb against your bottom lip, and you obediently opened, letting him in and sucking on it, tasting some of your arousal on him. He ground his hips against yours, and you felt the thick, heavy bulge press against you. 

His fingers tensed around your neck, a small whimper passing through as you stared up at him with wide, deceitfully innocent eyes.

"Aw." He smirked, tilting his head at you. "You're actually kind of cute like this."

You opened your mouth to make some sort of retort, but he squeezed again, halting any bratty comment you were about to make. 

"Should've fucking known. The sudden obsession with my notes. The random laundry hours. The way you'd spend forever in your room fucking yourself with your vibrator. How you'd stare at me like you wanted me to destroy you, just like this." He pressed his thumb against your tongue, pinning it down. "Open."

You did as you were told, parting your mouth as he pursed his lips, letting a wad of spit dangle down his tongue and into your waiting mouth. He pulled out his thumb. "Swallow."

Obediently, you did so, feeling Jungkook's palm pressed against your throat as you swallowed. 

His fingers flexed around the column. "Want me to fuck your throat? Want me to suffocate you on the cock you've been fucking obsessing over?"

You nodded eagerly, only to be delivered a sharp slap to your mouth. Your jaw tingled with delicious pain, a dull throb starting as he glared down at you with absolute disgust. Most embarrassing of all was the unabashed moan that unintentionally escaped your lips as soon as he hit you.

"You don't deserve it," he spat. "Say it."

"I..." You swallowed again, harder now with how Jungkook's hand tightened on your neck. "I don't deserve it."

"Deserve what?"

"I don't deserve to suck your cock!" Jungkook finally let go of your throat, and you sucked in greedy amounts of air as oxygen refilled your lungs.

"That's right," he tsked, finally pulling back. "Brats like you don't deserve shit from me."

He hooked his hands under your knees, forcing them up and folding you in half, pressing them into your shoulders. Your bare cunt twitched under his harsh stare, and you tried to reach for him to no avail. All of your holes were exposed, his for the taking.

"Such a pretty fucking pussy." He admired your messy cunt in awe, watching how you quivered in anticipation of what he'd do next. "Can't believe you've been keeping this from me."

Unable to resist any longer, he dove in, burying his tongue in you as far as it would go, mashing his nose up against your clit as he breathed you in. You moaned, fingers tangling into his locks, tugging at the strands as he went as deep as his jaw would allow. "Jungkook!" You cried, gasping at the sensation.

"Like this?" He mumbled into you, coming up for air just for a second to spit on your pussy, licking a broad stripe up your core. "Like the man you hate eating your nasty little cunt?"

You felt your cheeks burn at his dirty words, squirming as he attached his mouth again, the tip of his tongue flicking up and down your clit without hesitation. He sucked on it before slurping up the wetness that came pouring out of you, the sloppy, obscene sounds only adding to your further embarrassment. You couldn't even do a good job at pretending to hate this anymore. It was clear to both you and Jungkook that you were loving every second.

"This weak pussy gonna cum for me again?" He asked, making eye contact as he licked up your pussy again, watching you whimper as the tip of his tongue brushed your clit. "Gonna show me how pathetic you really are?"

Your hand curled into a fist in his hair, making his scalp sting. You held on to whatever remnants of your pride was left. "I-I won't!"

"Mm, you will," he smiled against you, and you felt the insertion of two digits again, curling back into the spot that destroyed you before. You moaned, head tilting back as you knew you were already done for. "Want me to fuck up this pussy so bad. Don't even need my dick to break you. You're such a desperate slut, you'd take anything."

You nodded, knowing everything he said was factual. You didn't even have the will-power to deny it.

"You don't even deserve to feel this good," Jungkook growled, glaring down at you, his fingers vicious as they pounded into you. The wet squelch from between your thighs, and how you clamped down on his fingers like a vice, let him know you knew it was the truth.  "Yet here I am, being so fucking nice to you, when you've been nothing but a bitch to me for years."

His mouth latched on your clit again, giving harsh sucks until your thighs quaked, and you were gushing into his mouth all over again. You felt your eyes begin to cross, orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave, and all you could feel was Jungkook's lips around your clit and his fingers curling inside you, pressed right up on the spot that had you seeing stars.

Your legs finally fell back flat on the bed, and your chest rose and sunk with every breath you took. Jungkook's mouth detached from you, a smirk of satisfaction on his glistening face and rosy lips. 

"You didn't even pretend to fight it on that one. Don't tell me you're giving up already," he snickered, spreading your pussy with his thumbs, watching it twitch and quiver in your post-orgasmic state. "I've barely even started."

He manhandled you over on your stomach, pulling your ass into the air and slapping it hard enough for your entire cheek to sting.

"Y-You're so f-fucking mean," you whined.

"Yeah? Hearing you cry like that only makes me want to be meaner," he grinned, gripping your ass with both hands and spreading your cheeks to expose your holes, your wet pussy not helping your predicament. He dug his nails in before smacking the already sore cheek. "I can't help that you like to get fucked like this."

You yelped, turning back to him with tears in your eyes. "S-Sadistic bastard," you hissed.

"Masochistic slut," he smiled, spanking your other cheek.

Finally, you heard the rustling of clothes behind you, and you couldn't help but crane your neck to finally, finally see what you've been waiting for all this time.

You stared at the literal dick of your dreams, gigantic and thick, everything you had imagined and more. He was hung as hell, just like you dreamed. Jungkook's monster cock looked like it should only belong in porn. It didn't help that Jungkook was unfairly, haughtily, and all to aware of this, his cocky grin as he tugged his shirt over his head telling you he knew exactly what you were thinking. 

"Big enough for you princess?" He mocked, his voice teasing. His body was a perfect match for his dick, large and hard and perfectly built to wreck you. "Is it exactly like you dreamed of?"

You hated how he read you like an open book, knowing he didn't even ask. He just wanted to humiliate you even more. Defiantly, you eyed up his cock, jutting up your chin at him. "I expected better."

His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared at your brattiness. "Yeah?" He gripped onto your hips, sliding your skirt to bunch up your waist further. "You should have no problem taking it, then."

You immediately regretted your decision when he shoved your head down into your pillows, tapping the head of his cock against your folds with wet smacks. His grip on your ass was possessive, fingers digging in as he teased his cockhead against your hole, barely thrusting in half an inch in and out as your pussy made loud, filthy noises. Even with how dripping wet you were and the two orgasms prior, you weren't sure if you'd be able to take him in the same way you had in your fantasies.

Still, the way he barely let you feel the tip was driving you crazy. You gnawed at your lip, trying to push back to have him sink into you, but his grip on your hips was too strong. "Just put your stupid dick in me already!"

"Oh? So much attitude." He sunk in a bit further, the head of him inside you now, and how thick it already felt made your thighs quiver at the prospect. "Want me to fuck up your insides so bad but can't even ask nicely. Stupid brat still needs to be put in her place."

He gave you another inch, laughing at how you quieted down, savoring how your walls flitted around him, trying to accommodate his intimidating girth. 

"Oh? So quiet now. Why's that?" He slid in a bit more, hissing at how you squeezed him so tight. You on the other hand, gripped onto the bed sheets, rendered silent as you pondered how you were really going to fit all of him in you like this. "Where'd all that bitchiness go?"

Jungkook was met with resistance as he forced himself in you a bit further, and hissed with how you practically strangled his cock. He tried to pull his hips back and fuck you shallowly, but the way you gripped him tight like you didn't want to let him go made it difficult. "Fuck, how're you still so tight? You're so fucking wet, made you squirt everywhere, and you're still choking on me like crazy."

"It's your fault!" You popped your head up to glare at him over his shoulders, your eyes glassy with tears. "Your s-stupid dick is too big."

He let out a breathless laugh. "Really? You gonna start crying already?"

He shoved your head back into the pillows, mounting you as he bullied his cock deeper inside.

"I'm not even halfway in yet, princess." He pushed his hips in more, snickering at how you gasped and tears sprung at the corner of your eyes. "You talked such big game, but you're struggling to take me. What good even are you?"

You didn't respond, his words true and causing your face to heat up with embarrassment. 

"Do you need help, baby?"

Weakly, you nodded, bruising your pride as you admitted defeat. Jungkook laughed at your expense, clearly enjoying watching you let go of your stubbornness. Slowly but surely, he was breaking you just as promised.

"Where's your vibrator?"

Your stomach did a flip.

"What?"

"Your vibrator. The one I had to hear you fuck yourself with basically every day? When I was just a few feet away?" He cracked his hand down on your ass, the sound of the impact echoing in your bedroom. "Where is it?"

Warily, your eyes slid over to your nightstand, and Jungkook got the hint. Reaching over, he yanked out the drawer, your prized possessions revealed to him. Your handcuffs, rose toys, all of it was now privy to his scrutinizing gaze.

He clicked his tongue at the sight. "Well well, you've certainly got quite the collection, don't you?"

Humiliation heated your face, but somehow it only made you wetter, Jungkook's cock sliding in a bit deeper into your pussy. He hissed at the sensation.

"I think I'll go with this one."

Your eyes widened as he pulled out your favorite Hitachi wand, plugging the cord into the extension by your bed and having it whir to life. You tried to close your legs again, but Jungkook smacked one of your thighs, adjusting you so your legs spread even wider beneath him, your back dipping into a low arch. "None of that. You need help, remember?"

He brought the wand down beneath you, the buzzing head dangerously close to your dripping cunt. "This should do it."

He pressed it down against you, and you let out an obscene moan, legs starting to shake as you involuntarily sank down further against his cock. He only mashed it harder against your clit, loving how you unabashedly whined and kicked your feet as it overwhelmed you, your incessant moans too much to even try and hide.

"Thaaaat's it. Look how you're opening up for me." He was already more than halfway in you now, able to feel the vibrations of the wand on his dick as your walls slicked up more, welcoming him much quicker. Drops of you were starting to spill onto your sheets again, ruining them. "Good girl, you're almost there. Doing so good. You're taking me so well."

You were so glad Jungkook couldn't see your expression, the way your eyes were starting to cross and your toes were curling, your orgasm building up as he nuzzled the head deeper against your folds, making you feel every vibration as his cock plunged further and further into you.

Right when you felt your orgasm approach, he slammed completely into you, cockhead spearing to the deepest part of you against your cervix, hitting sweet spots you thought you only imagined, his balls flushed against your sopping folds. He pulled the vibrator away, turning it off, forcing you to feel the way you took all of him, and how so very full you were.

Even without the added stimulation of the Hitachi, you thought you were going crazy, clambering at the sheets as you tried to pull your hips back from him for mercy. He didn't give it to you, though, hips pushing forward with yours, forcing you to stay full and feel the way he stretched you completely. He ground as deep as he could against you, wanting you to feel every part of him.

"Don't run from it. You begged for this, remember?" He squeezed onto your hips, keeping your ass flush against him, not letting you escape. "That was what the vibrator was for."

Your legs trembled underneath you, his cockhead rubbing so deeply in you you felt your belly bulging beneath you. He wasn't even moving and you felt like you were going to burst.

"F-Fuck, Jungkook, please please please—" You dropped your head into your again pillows, babbling out nonsense into the cotton as he pressed his hips as hard against you as he could, feeling your gummy walls swallow him.

"Such a good pussy. Can't help but want to bully it even more," he rasped to himself, balls snug against your clit. Your arousal was coating even his thighs now, a large wet spot darkening on your sheets beneath you as you continued to drip. "Is this why you give me so much attitude all the time? Just hoping I could put you in your place like this? Use you however I want, just like you dreamed? "

You nodded into the pillow, turning your face, one tearful eye staring at him with pleas. "Yes, please just..."

"Just what?" A sadistic grin appeared on his lips. "Move?"

You don't even get the time to respond as he pulled his hips back, leaving just the fat head in you before slamming back in, the brutal thrust making your legs shake. His balls smacked against your clit and pressed against you as he leaned all his weight on you, and before you knew it you were cumming.

Your hands balled into fists as you let out a moan, and your mind went blank, unable to even worry about the noise complaints that were sure to follow in the morning.

Jungkook's evil laugh echoed in your ear as he watched you fall apart beneath him, his hands being the only thing holding you up. "Did you seriously just cum?" You wanted to slap the shit eating grin off his face. "You really are fucking weak."

He pulled back out again, thrusting into you, watching you scramble as he wrecked your pussy, repeatedly hitting those sweet spots over and over again. He leaned down, letting go of one of your hips to wrap his bicep around your throat, squeezing as he pulled you in to meet his thrusts, his other hand landing next to yours to keep himself up. You choked, face free from the pillows, tears streaming down your cheeks as he pounded into you, forcing you to take it like a good girl.

"So fucking pathetic," he cooed in your ear, his tone belittling with mock pity. "Wanted me to fuck you stupid when you're already fucking brainless."

You nodded in his hold, unable to do anything but agree and take it, his huge, pornstar cock destroying you with every passing thrust. He continuously grunted in your ear, his moans making your stomach churn as you heard how your pussy was wrecking him too.

"You really don't deserve such a good pussy, fuck," he cursed. "Shit's too good. Best pussy I've ever had, of fucking course it had to be you."

You felt the same way. You couldn't even process the fact that Jeon Jungkook of all people was giving you the best dick of your life. If someone told you that before the two of you moved in together, you would've had them checked into an asylum.

You used one hand that wasn't supporting yourself to grip onto his forearm, nails raking down it as you were forced to endure his brutal backshots. He growled in your ear, biting at the shell of it to give you a taste of pain too. 

"S-So much," you gasped out. "Too deep."

"Yeah?" He yanked you up, straightening his back and arching yours as he forced you upright, bicep still curled around your neck. He pressed his hand on your stomach, the bulge protruding from you, moving as he pummeled into you. "Like it here? Like how fucking deep I am?"

You nodded, whining as he pushed down on you, pressure building.

His hand slid further down, toying with your clit, giving it that same mean pinch and rub that had you seeing stars. You were starting to go light-headed from his choking, the corners of your vision blurring, every little thing driving you mad. He twisted his arm, forcing you to turn your head toward him, and he captured your lips, forcing his tongue back in your mouth to make you go crazy, tasting him as he barreled into you.

"Dumb fucking slut," he mumbled against your lips.

You came again, going weightless in Jungkook's arms as your knees practically gave out, thighs quaking. You felt your arousal dripping down them and to your knees, and Jungkook fucked you through it, moaning as he felt your pussy spasm and clench around him like a vice. 

He finally released you, unhooking his arm and letting you collapse face first into the bed, the strength drained from your body as he gripped back onto your hips, throwing your ass back to meet his thrusts. He planted both feet on the bed, squatting over you as he used your limp body like a toy, burying himself balls deep again as he unloaded inside of you. 

"Fucking t-take it!" 

You whined, feeling his cock twitch and move, pressed right against your cervix, the warm fluid coating your walls in white. 

At last Jungkook pulled out, cock still heavy after he drained his balls in you, leaking with leftover cum. Some trickled out of your hole, and your hips slowly slid down as you laid flat against the mattress, thoroughly fucked out.

Jungkook ran a hand through his sweaty hair, breathing heavily as he took in your limp state. Flipping you onto your back, you couldn't even protest.

He dragged your skirt down your legs and undid your shirt, pulling the offensive material off to finally see your bare form. He squeezed one of your tits, fingers tugging at a nipple as he watched you writhe at his touch. He leaned in, biting and sucking at the skin available to him to cover you in bruises and marks, evidence that would last for days and remind you of how he completely dominated you.

"You were right, you know. Earlier." He panted, enamored at your stiff nipples, toying with them as he pleased. He sucked at your neck, giving a cruel nip before licking over the marks left behind. "If you were walking around the apartment in just a towel, I don't think I would've been able to resist this slutty little body. I would've ripped it off you and bent you over the nearest surface. I wouldn't even be able to hold myself back."

He pinched both nipples, pulling them up to make your back arch, your whines music to his ears.

Licking his lips, he smirked. "You probably wouldn't have even tried to stop me."

You weakly nodded as he finally let go of you, but your relief is short lived, hearing the sound of a loud buzz returning. Opening your eyes, you see the hitachi back in his hands, thrumming back to life, his smile sadistic as he took in your expression.

"W-Wait!" You tried to cross your legs, but he forced them apart again, hand shoving against a knee to expose your puffy core to him once more.

"Can't have you talking shit again, baby," he cooed, spreading your spent cunt and pressing the vibrating head against you. "Need to make sure you to know who you belong to."

You practically screamed feeling the vibrator on you again, Jungkook's cum gushing out of you as your pussy spasmed. It pooled beneath your ass onto the sheets, the white liquid spilling between your cheeks. You felt like such a hot, sticky mess, but Jungkook didn't seem to care. His grin only widened as he continued to torture you with pleasure.

"Look at me," he commanded, gripping your jaw and forcing you to face him, staring between his face and the vibrator in his hand as he pressed it harder against you. "Want you to remember it was me who did this to you. Made you a fucking mess for me."

You cried, the overstimulation hurting oh so good, an orgasm you couldn't even avoid threatening to take over again. You didn't even know you could cum this much; you thought it was only the thing of dreams, but Jungkook was intent on outdoing your fantasies and then some.

"Should've just come to me instead of scribbling in that stupid little book," he chastised, watching as he milked out all of the cum from your pussy. He should fill it back up when you're empty again.  "Should've let me ruin you the way you always wanted. Could've just knocked."

"I-I didn't think—"

"You never think," he shot back. "Don't use that pretty little head of yours for anything except insults, trying to get under my skin. Just hoping I'd fuck you hard enough to get rid of that bitchy attitude."

You nodded in agreement, feeling another orgasm take over you.

"Are you going to cum again? C'mon, thank me when you do."

"Th-Thank youuu!" You shouted out the words as you came, thighs trembling to the same tune as the vibrator, eyes on Jungkook just like he demanded.

When your whimpers transitioned into weak pleas, he finally turned the vibrator off, having mercy on your poor, sweaty form. Grabbing the backs of your knees again, he folds you in half, latching his mouth on your pussy again and burying his tongue in deep. He scooped out whatever cum was left on his tongue before spitting it on your clit, taking one hand and rubbing the cum in circles over it with his thumb. He shuffled closer, cock hard again.

With the last bit of strength and sanity you could muster, you reached for it, feeling the girth in your hand and how you almost couldn't close it properly around him. You stroked it, still slick with your cum, heavy and hard. It was crazy to you that you had been able to fit all of it in you, and you were all too willingly about to do it again.

You aligned it with your entrance, biting your lips as you tried to get him to enter you again. Clearly, Jeon Jungkook had broken you not only in body, but in mind too.

He seemed to know it, too, following your direction and slowly pushing back into you. You realized how empty you had felt before, and how delicious it felt to be full again.

"Gonna stretch you out so you can only take my cock," he muttered to himself, sliding in further and further, the glide much easier than the first attempt. "Gonna shape this pussy to remember my cock. No one will be able to satisfy you anymore. Not your vibrator, not your small, useless fingers. No one."

You knew every word he said was the truth, wrapping your legs around him to pull him in until his pelvis was flush against yours, balls pressing against your ass, all of his cum pushed out of you and only adding to the slick slide of him as bottomed out.

His fingers entertained with yours, pinning your hands over your head as he pulled his hips back, thrusting into you slowly at first. "Tell me you're mine," he demanded, leaning down so your lips would barely touch, forcing you to share the same breath. His eyes locked with yours, staring intensely as he studied the dreamy, fucked out gaze in yours. "Say it. No one can get in this pussy as deep as I can. No one can satisfy you like me."

You nodded. "I'm yours. H-Have been for a while."

"Always have," he grunted, eyes twisting shut as he started to get rougher with his pounding. His hands squeezed yours almost painfully. "You were always fucking mine. You're gonna come to me from now on. Every time this pussy gets wet, every time you have some dirty fucking dream about me, you're going to tell me, got it?"

Your legs squeezed around him tighter, feeling his pelvis grind against your clit, the poor, overstimulated nub practically screaming from the pain. "Yes!"

"Every time you give me that bitchy little attitude and start shit for no reason, I'm gonna fuck it out of you." He growled out the words, kissing you again, letting you feel the hum emanating from his throat. He hammered against your cervix, hard enough for you to worry it would feel bruised. You knew you were going to be sore as shit come morning, perhaps the entire week. "Gonna fuck the shit out of you just the way you want, and you're gonna take it like a good girl."

You moaned against his lips, squeezing his fingers back, his thrusts heavy as his balls roughly slammed against your ass, the sound of skin against skin and your wet pussy swallowing him completely filling the room. He breathed heavily against you, head dipping down to bite into your shoulder, hard enough to leave marks.

"My slut," he rasped. "Mine."

Your pussy clenched around him as you came, and for the second time he unloaded inside you, your spasming cunt milking whatever was left of him into you. He groaned, mouth crashing to yours as his cock twitched inside you, pumping out his thick and heavy load, right against your cervix, making sure you took all of it. Your fingers tangled together with his, and you moaned one final time against his tongue.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, bodies intertwined, sweaty skin pressed against each other as you looked into each other's eyes, trying to catch your breath.

Jeon Jungkook had somehow managed to excel even your wildest fantasies, railing the absolute shit out of you, and you loved every second. You'd never be able to forget this, never live it down. It was something neither of you would be able to ignore, ever.

He finally pulled his body weight off of you, no longer crushing you and giving you more room to breathe. You missed his warmth already, but his hands stayed secured in your own, and his softening cock was still buried inside of you.

His eyes searched yours, as though he were trying to see if you regretted it. 

Finally, he spoke.

"You can yell at me all you want. Scream at me after this, bitch, I don't care," he said. "But I'm not letting you go. Never. You're stuck with me forever, got that?"

You swallowed, your heartbeat practically leaping out of your chest.

He bit his lip, eyes soft. "Is that ok now?"

You had been stuck with Jungkook your entire life. He was the one thing you had never been able to escape.

And for the first time you no longer wanted to.

You nodded, "I'd like that."

His deceitfully innocent bunny grin spread on his face, and he glanced over to the Calc 2 book that had been thrown aside. Reaching for it, he licked his lips.

“I guess it’s time to fulfill these requests, then.”

[littleapplle]

Dearest writer, I would like to submit an order into your respected bakery! 🍞🥯🥖🥐

May I kindly get a NSFW A to Z Headcannon for Rafayel or Caleb? (or both if you don’t mind :3) I’m a huge fan of your writing and given that you are open for orders I figured I could try my luck in ordering something special 🙂‍↕️🥹

But ofc if this is too much of a hassle you may kindly ignore my order and move on 🤭🥹🥺 I shall kindly await for your response and I look forward to your masterpiece (even if it’s not my request) 💖

nsfw alphabet ⊹ ࣪ ˖ rafayel and caleb

cw.: nsfw. real porn links!! must be logged in twt to watch.

note: oh anon you'll make my heart melt:( thank you for your sweet words, my luv. i'm so sorry for the wait, i wish i had finished this much sooner >< hope this is good enough tho bc i lwk feel like i did a terrible job <//3

rafayel

a = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): Really good! Rafayel can’t stand being dirty after sex and won’t really rest until you and him are cleaned up so you two always end up snuggling in his bathtub while he massages your scalp and scrubs your body lovingly. If you're not too tired, talk to him. He wants to hear your voice. How was it? Did you enjoy it? Tell him everything, he'll listen. Rafayel holds you so close you think he’s actually trying to get under your skin, literally.

b = body part (their favorite of theirs and their partner): If you asked, he’d say he loves every part of you and he absolutely cannot choose. If he really had to answer… your boobs. They’re the perfect size, feel good on his palms, your nipples don’t have a single moment of peace. You have to physically pull him away before they’re sore and puffy. ❤︎...¹ ❤︎...² ❤︎...³

on his body though… his hands, of course! It is with them that he creates his beautiful pieces and makes you come undone as his slender fingers press down on that spongy spot inside you.

c = cum (anything to do with cum): Will come anywhere you want if you ask him to but he really likes to see his cum dripping on your skin. Be it your stomach, your tits, doesn’t matter, he’ll go feral. As for the taste, it barely tastes like anything. It’s a bit salty and very watery but that’s it. ❤︎...

d = dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs): Really wants to photograph you. Be it during sex, just you touching yourself, anything. Definitely has a secret journal about you and wants to decorate it with your beautiful body and face. 100% has a polaroid of your tits on his wallet and has no shame at all.

e = experience (how experienced are they): Barely any. Listen, he has read erotica, studied human anatomy a thousand times and knows the human body like no one else but he never had sex with anyone but you so please guide him the first few times. Be vocal, he’s a quick learner, he’ll learn his way around your body in a second.

f = favorite position: Rafayel likes a position based on how easy he can 1. kiss you and 2. look at your face. Missionary lover, basic but nothing with Rafayel is boring. Sex with Rafayel tends to be SO romantic, he’s THE lover boy. He kisses you so sweetly, sucking hickies on your neck while his cock drags inside you slowly. Also looooves when you ride him! it’s a combo of everything he likes, you frowning in pleasure, your boobs bouncing AND you on top of him!! ❤︎...¹ ❤︎...² ❤︎...³

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc): Oh sex with Rafayel is never serious! He’s always trying to get a reaction out of you, be it trying to make you laugh by pressing a kiss to that ticklish spot on your neck or by making the stupidest joke ever. Your laughter gets him going more than he’d like to admit.

h = hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.): First of all,  yes, it is purple and second, he shaves very frequently. As a lemurian, he never had any issues with body hair since he didn’t have any. Nowadays, he’s grown used to shaving since his pubes sensory bother him.

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect…): Puh-lease, we are talking about Rafayel. The artist, the lemurian that lives and breathes for love, your one and only soulmate. Rafayel is obsessed with you, always has been, always will be. To have skin to skin contact with you, letting him see you bare and vulnerable and yet still trust him, it’s everything he’d ever wish for. Rafayel lives for romance, love and pure intimacy and he will show it to you in every touch, kiss and praise.

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon): Before getting together with you, if he was ever really pent up and stressed, maybe once or twice a week. After you two got together officially, he doesn’t see the point in masturbating when he’s always glued to your side. If you’re away for whatever reason though? I believe he can get pretty needy and maybe, just maybe, rub one off.

k = kink (one or more of their kinks): Does body worship even count as a kink? Well, doesn’t matter. How many times do I have to say that Rafayel is OBSESSED with you??? There’s nothing that makes him hornier than being allowed to kiss your body. Praising you in every single language he knows is not enough, he needs your soul to be tied with his so you can read his mind and deepest thoughts about how lovely you are. Also, voyeurism, Rafayel is a closeted perv. He likes to watch, to take his time eyeing his food before actually diving in. Seeing you touch yourself without his intervention makes the knot in his lower stomach grow tighter and his skin hotter.

l = location (favorite places to do the do): Rafayel is too possessive to have actual sex in public so that’s a no. Anywhere in his studio is fine if you’re comfortable! Buuut if you trust him enough, please let him drag you to the ocean. There are no interruptions, no important phone calls, no Thomas to accidentally walk in, it’s just you and him where he’s most comfortable. It doesn’t tire him to be in his human form but giving his body a break and finally being in his real, lemurian form, feels like a relief from time to time. 

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): When you’re more petty than him and talk back. FUCK he could bust a nut right there. Or the fact that as a hunter, you can manhandle him just as easy as he can manhandle you. OR the fact that you’re not scared of him in the slightest. He would never hurt you, but if he wanted, a single song would be enough to make you go crazy and drown in the ocean. You’re aware of that, you just don’t care. That’s what makes him go insane.

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs): Share you with someone. Although he doesn’t show it, Rafayel is extremely protective and can be very possessive depending on the situation. Letting someone else touch you turns him off completely.

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc): #01 pussy eater. Rafayel loves your pussy ok, leave him alone… Can totally cum untouched from just eating you out and is not embarrassed in the slightest. Actually really good at it too, like, 100% a muncher. Def tries to make you squirt on his tongue. As for receiving? Sure! It’s never unwelcomed. Just know that he will return the favor 10x better. ❤︎...¹ ❤︎...² ❤︎...³

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): Rafayel can be both. There is no red and blue with him, there’s purple. Rafayel can’t stick to a single thing forever. During his heat, he’s rougher, manhandling you around and bending you in whatever position he judges comfortable in the moment. When he’s feeling needy and clingy, he’s gentle. Rolls his hips against yours slowly, kissing your neck sensually while praising you in lemurian.

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.): Not a big fan but he isn’t totally opposed to them. For Rafayel, sex is something intimate and he wants to take his time with you. He wants both of you to enjoy the moment with no rush. 

r = risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.): That depends on how far you two are going. Fingering you under the table at a banquet? Sure, why not. Getting a bit handsy and making out? Lovely. Actual sex? No. Not happening at all. Rafayel, even if he hides it, is a possessive creature. Your sounds and body are for his ears and eyes only. You’re his and he’s not up for sharing.

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…): Normally, he can go for two rounds before falling on top of you tiredly. In heat though? He is not stopping. His mind breaks but his body still wants and needs more. Doesn’t matter how many times he’s come already, his hips do not stop against yours until he thinks you’re full of his eggs.

t = toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): Doesn’t own any but is not opposed to them. If you’re interested in trying it out and using them during sex, sure! He can work with that. Extra stimulation on your clit while his fingers are shoved on your cunt isn’t unwanted.

u = unfair (how much they like to tease): Now, is it really Rafayel if there’s no teasing? He is insufferable. He likes to see you work for it even though he knows damn well it’s him that will fold first in the end.

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make): Sorry, he’s not holding back. He needs you to know how good you make him feel. His range is insane, he’d be grunting in your ear and suddenly his moans turn high pitched and beautiful. Rafayel can get whiny, he complains, he’s petty, he mewls and in the next second he groans and curses in his mother language in pleasure.

w = wild card (get a random headcanon for the character of your choice): I need to spread the virgin Rafayel agenda… He is a lemurian, he’s bound to you in a level that no human would ever understand. There are no “friends with benefits”, “situationship”, “hookup”, Rafayel has been waiting for you and only you. He doesn’t need it to be magical or perfect, he just needs it to be you.

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words): The prettiest cock you’ll see in your short human life. It’s genuinely nice to look at. Rafayel’s cock is pale, with the prettiest pink tip and cutest mole on the length that if you kiss, his knees buckle weakly and his head spins. It isn’t thick but it’s curved up and it drags deliciously inside you. I’d say #c7b2ab for the length and #d9a3a3 for the tip. In his human form, solid 6,7 inches (17 cm).

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?): Lemurians are creatures with many cycles. Rafayel has a high libido naturally, but during ebb day and his heat? He is trying to crawl under your skin. Ebb day makes him needy, sensitive and whiny, he just wants an effective way of cooling off. His heat quite literally makes him feral, he wants you and if you consent, you’re not leaving the water at all. At least not until it is over.

z = zzz (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward): Pretty quick. After he’s sure you two are clean, comfortable and satisfied, he’s hugging you close and burying his face in your neck sleepily. If you feel like it, you two can chat. Rafayel loves pillow talk. If you’re tired and wish to be quiet, then it’s time to nap.

caleb

a = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): THE BEST. King of aftercare. Knows everything you want and attends to every one of your needs. You want water? There’s already a glass on your bedside table. You’re hungry? You want him to cook or do you want to order takeout? He’ll do it. You feel dirty? Let him run a bath for you- you get the idea.

b = body part (their favorite of theirs and their partner): In your body, definitely your ass. Always has been. Doesn’t matter what you are wearing, be it those old pj’s from your childhood, a new pair of undies, nothing at all, it all makes him feel like he’s gonna bust a nut on his pants.

He really likes his arms. Caleb has always worked out a lot since highschool and he’s really proud of how far he’s come. He likes how big they’re compared to yours, how he can manhandle you during sex and roughhousing, and how comfortable you look in his arms when you two hug.

c = cum (anything to do with cum): If you allow him to cum inside you, that’s all he’ll ever want to do. Caleb has a huge breeding kink, and the fact that you trust him enough to let him fill you up drives him mad. If you go down on him, he never lets you swallow it, he feels too bad to do so. Makes you spit on his hand and honestly thank god. It’s thick and slightly bitter but he cums so much you WILL choke. ❤︎...

d = dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs): Sigh, is it really a dirty secret if you already caught him at least twice? Caleb’s interest in your underwear is pathetic. At this point he’s not even trying to hide it anymore, he’s just shamelessly going through your drawers to find that old and stained pair you forgot to throw away. Bonus point if you catch him sniffing them and complain about it. Secretly likes when you scream at him and say “Gross, Caleb!”. Also wishes you let him keep your undies on during sex, it really turns him on.

e = experience (how experienced are they): None. Caleb has never felt any attraction to anyone but you his whole life. For years he has been waiting for the right moment for both of you so, you’re his first and last.

f = favorite position: Backshots. He loves your ass. There’s nothing better than taking you from behind, a hand wrapped around your waist while the other smooths the skin of your back. Also really enjoys being inhumanely close to you, doesn’t matter the position. As long as you two are close, you, safely in his arms, he’s happy. ❤︎...¹  ❤︎...² ❤︎...³ ❤︎...⁴

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc): Caleb wishes that you only see his outgoing and playful persona, created just for you and the sexual aspect is not different. He likes to make you laugh at any and every moment. If you whine in pain because his cock is too big, he’ll blow a raspberry on your neck to distract you and make you giggle. He’ll tickle your waist if you talk back. Anything to make you smile.

h = hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.): It’s trimmed. Not all shaved and smooth but it isn’t unruly. Has the sliiiiightest happy trail peeking up his boxers. If it bothers you though, he’ll shave it in a minute.

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect…): Very romantic. At least he tries. Caleb wanted to be your prince charming, your knight in shining armor his whole life. Sex is one of the many ways he wants to prove he’s the best for you, that around him, you’re safe and can be yourself with no fear. He kisses you gently, whispering the sweetest words ever in your ear, massaging every sore spot in your body while wishing he’s worthy of your praise too.

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon): Yeah… During his teenage years, he jerked off a lot. Caleb had a high libido but could not have the only person he wanted so all he had was his fist. Nowadays, before and after you two got together, i still believe he jerks off alot since you two are still very far apart, you living in Linkon and him in Skyhaven, though he prefers coming to you rather than fucking his fist by himself.

k = kink (one or more of their kinks): As I mentioned previously, Caleb has a huge breeding kink. Part of it is because he genuinely wishes to start a family with you in the future but also because he feels so close to you this way. Loves to keep his cock plugged inside you for a while before actually pulling out. ❤︎...¹ ❤︎...²

His praise kink goes both ways. He’s always praising you for all of your achievements, not only sexually. Please praise him back, he’s trying his best for you, always. Tell him he is making you feel good, tell him you love him, that what he’s doing feels right. He might come on the spot.

Do I even have to mention his size kink… He is bigger than you. Caleb goes weak at the thought of being able to manhandle you into whatever position he wants you to be. And if he can press down on your tummy and feel his cock abusing your cunt? Ohhh yeah, yes he came. Don’t judge him. ❤︎...

l = location (favorite places to do the do): Caleb can only actually relax when he’s alone with you at your apartment or his. Preferably yours back in Linkon. He feels tense in Skyhaven and is always on alert. In Linkon though, he can let himself relax better knowing that you’re safer. Not a fan of kitchen sex specifically. That aside, anywhere is fine.

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): You’re horny? So is he! Caleb has been waiting for you for years, saying he’s pent up is an understatement. Just say the words and he’s already looking at you with puppy dog eyes, waiting for an order.

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs): Anything related to impact play. No. He hates the thought of hurting you and finds no pleasure in such things.

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc): Zero skill, no experience, but he has a dream. Show him how you like it, ride his face, pull his hair, order him around, hell, sit on his face. He’s a quick learner once he sets his mind onto something. 100% a giver and doesn’t want you to go down on him because it’s too “degrading” and he feels bad. Please go down on him. He’ll complain and try to pull away but he comes SO quickly, cock twitching, grunting, knees buckling and all. ❤︎...

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): … Rough. Listen, he doesn’t mean to be rough but he can’t help it. Your cunt makes Caleb malfunction, overheat and shut down. He’s dumbed down at the slightest clench around his cock and his hips have a mind of their own, snapping against yours harshly as he drools and kisses your shoulder in apology. 

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.): Actually likes them! You two are always very busy with your jobs and being distant from each other most of the time isn’t easy. To him, quickies are more about you than him. He wants to get you off so you feel at peace. He can rub one off later and you don’t have to concern your pretty head over it.

r = risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.): No. Caleb hates, hates, hates the thought of taking risks with you. He’d rather die than having you be seen in such an intimate way. As for experimenting, yes of course! Be open with him, tell him what you’re into, what you want to try… Your wish is his command.

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…): From the lack of experience, Caleb can last two rounds max before you tire him out. That does not mean he’ll leave you unsatisfied though. He still has his mouth and fingers ready to satiate you. ❤︎...¹ ❤︎...²

t = toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): Absolutely not. Are you trying to get him killed? Caleb is jealous of anything that breathes the same air as you and you want him to accept the idea of having something else making you cum? Just shoot him already.

u = unfair (how much they like to tease): If anyone is being teased, it’s him. Although you two play fight a lot, Caleb isn’t one to be a tease during sex. He has been waiting, planning for this moment for years. Everything needs to be perfect. He can wait to get under your skin later.

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make): He tries so hard to be quiet… he wants to focus on your moans, your moans are the pretty ones, not his. Caleb holds back, bites his lip, hides his face on your nape but nothing can make him shut up. The moment he enters you, he’s moaning, huffing and grunting like an animal.

w = wild card (get a random headcanon for the character of your choice): Caleb really enjoys all the attention you give him when he’s looking all scary and dominant in his colonel uniform. He knows you eye him hungrily when gets home, he won’t take the uniform off on purpose, he just waits to see how long it’ll take for you to fold and come sit on his lap, grinding your cunt on his clothed thigh. Won’t admit it but likes when you call him colonel, sir, mr. xia, etc.

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words): Alright mr. fat cock pack it up. It’s thick alright. I can totally picture him saying “biiiig stretch, pips” while shushing your whines. Thick base, thick and veiny length, fat tip. That’s what he's hiding in his boxers. 6,6 inches (~16,5cm) that stretch you out SO good, the veins drag inside you soooo nicely it feels like heaven. #a88479 for the length and #a66d5b for the tip.

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?): Oh boy, do I even need to say this? We are talking about THE yearner. Caleb’s super pent up and dare I say he has a pretty high libido. He is always stressed because of work and he has been waiting for you for years. The moment you consent, he’s fumbling with both his and your clothes. 

z = zzz (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward): He usually doesn't sleep after you two have sex. He’s too busy watching you sleep to do so. Caleb is only at peace if he is sure you’re safe and comfortable. Poor boy barely has time to catch his breath as he’s running around the apartment getting everything you might need and want so you don’t have to leave the bed. Tell him to relax, ask him to lie down with you, bury your face on his beefy chest and make sure he doesn’t leave the bed, he needs it.

⊹ ࣪reblogs are very much appreciated. thank you for reading!(*´▽`*)

[rainrot4me]

A Little R & R (Rest and Relaxation, Raw and Rough)

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

───────────────────────────────────── leave - whirr

── .✦ do not copy, translate, or plagiarize any of my works. dividers by me.

CONTAINS NSFW, MINORS DNI

✦ . Summary: From breaking and entering, to scaring you half to death, the proxies have never been conventional lovers. So why would relaxing with you after a hard day at work be any different?

✦ . Characters: {Separate} Jeff the Killer x Female Reader, Ticci Toby x Female Reader, Masky x Female Reader, Hoodie x Female Reader

✦ . Warning: Teasing, vaginal fingering, choking, dirty talk, overstimulation

✦ . Words: 16.2k (~4k per section)

✦ . Note: Is this a little self indulgent? Absolutely. But work has been kicking my ass and a good fingering down from the proxies would set me straight, so I come bearing gifts. Thank you again to my lovely lovely friend Angie for her beautiful art!!!! Words cannot describe my love.

Art by @z0l0fft.

────────────────────────────────────────────

You’re tired. 

Not just tired—drained. The kind of tired that settles into the marrow of your bones and makes you feel like even blinking is too much effort.

You stand on the front steps of your house for a second longer than necessary, keys in hand, bag slung over your shoulder, and try to summon the energy to go inside. Your muscles ache. Your neck hurts. Every part of your body begs for the sweet mercy of a hot shower and soft clothes. It’s cold out here, the nighttime air unforgiving. It’s all you can do not to collapse on the stairs outside.

The keys rattle in your hand as you finally slide one into the lock, twisting it until the door unlatches with a muted click. You shove the door open with your shoulder, stepping into the dark. The familiar scent of home greets you—laundry detergent, the faint trace of that candle you lit last night, something faintly musky that’s just… you.

You sigh, shoulders slumping with relief as you kick your shoes off one at a time. Your bag hits the floor with a muted thud, but you could care less to remember if there was anything valuable inside. You shrug your jacket off, tossing it haphazardly onto the hook. It’s your sanctuary, your space to finally breathe, not having to perform for your dumbass coworkers any longer. 

Work sucks. Everyone knows that, especially you.

There’s just something about a 2pm to 12am job that makes you want to rip everyone’s throat out, including your own. The money is nice, but some days you wonder if it’s worth your sanity and the constant back pain.

You start walking toward the kitchen, already reaching to loosen the tension from your neck, mentally checking off what leftovers might be in the fridge. Are you even hungry? You round the corner,

And stop cold.

The back door is wide open.

The long glass pane stares back at you like an eye, wind pushing it gently so it sways on its hinges, creaking faintly. The night air curls around your ankles, carrying the sharp, damp scent of wet leaves and earth. It raises goosebumps on your arms.

You blink, stunned for a moment, almost unsure you’re really seeing what you’re seeing. You never forget to lock that door. Ever. It's a habit, muscle memory, you could lock that thing in your sleep. There’s one too many home invasion cases on the news for you to just be comfortable with an easily accessible back door.

“…No,” you whisper under your breath. “No, I didn’t leave that open.”

Your heart gives a small jolt in your chest.

Immediately your mind reaches for something rational, something safe. Him. Maybe he came by. Maybe he used his key. Maybe he forgot to shut the door all the way. But even as you grasp for the thought, it doesn’t settle. He doesn’t forget things like that. He’s careful—always has been, he has to be. 

“Hello?” you call out, voice already tense. “Anyone here?”

No answer. You mentally punch yourself, you’re no better than the stupid girls who you make fun of in horror movies. 

Your house is still. The silence feels unnatural, forced, like it’s trying to hide something from you.

A pinprick of unease worms its way into your spine. You move quickly to the opposite side of the kitchen, flipping on every light switch available and illuminating the entire dining/living area. It doesn’t ease the pit in your stomach, but at least nothing can sneak up on you. You rummage through your broom closet in the laundry room, grabbing the wooden broom leaning against the doorframe. It’s not much, but at least there’s something for you to protect yourself with. You will not be as dumb as those horror movie chicks.

Your voice rises, more firm this time. “Seriously, if this is a joke, it’s not funny.”

Still no reply.

Your breath catches in your throat. You start moving from room to room, switching on lights as you go. The living room? Empty. Bathroom? Empty. Guest room? Nothing. You scan every corner, every shadow, peek behind every door with broom gripped tightly in hand.

The tension grows with every room you clear. The open doors groan behind you, the breeze from outside trailing in like fingers sliding across your back. The feeling of being watched is as strong as ever, and now you feel like you could throw up.

Your bedroom is the last place left.

You step in and flick the light on. The room is empty. Neat. Undisturbed.

And yet… your heart won’t stop racing. The hairs on your arms are standing straight up, and there’s a pit forming in your gut again, deep and cold.

You take a step back into the hall, gripping the flashlight tighter, half-waiting for something, anything, to jump out.

“Okay,” you whisper, trying to convince yourself. “Okay, it’s fine. I’m just tired. I’m overthinking this. He probably—he probably just stopped by, right? Left in a hurry. Right?”

You want to believe it. God, you want to believe it.

But then, just as your breathing starts to slow, just as you start to think maybe it really is nothing—

Arms wrap around you from behind.

A strong grip, smooth and steady, sliding across your waist, locking tight before you can even scream. You freeze. Your body goes stiff, lungs seizing as hot breath ghosts over your neck, close, too close.

You can’t move. You can’t even think. The broomstick is rendered useless in your hands. 

Until you hear that all-too-familiar chuckle humming into your ear…

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ JEFF THE KILLER

“Miss me, baby?”

You shoved the blunt end of the broomstick back with everything you had. It didn’t land hard, but it startled him enough that he stepped back with a laugh.

You whipped around, heart pounding in your chest like a war drum, and there he was.

Jeffrey.

His grin was still spread wide across that pale face, lips too stretched, eyes too sharp, the darkness under them as deep as ever. His hoodie hung off his frame like always, smudged with god-knows-what, hair falling wild around his face. He looked like something from a nightmare.

But he was your nightmare. And right now, he was standing in your hallway with his hands up in mock surrender and a cocky smirk like he hadn’t just scared the absolute hell out of you.

“God—Jeff!” you snapped, pressing a hand to your chest. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Too much to list, babe,” he said smoothly, taking a step toward you. “You looked so serious. I had to mess with you a little.”

“You left the door wide open.”

“I left it ajar.”

“Wide. Open.” You glared at him, storming past him toward the back door to slam it shut. “I thought someone broke in. I was about to call the cops.”

Jeff snorted, following you lazily. “Yeah? That would’ve gone well.”

You stopped and looked at him. “What if it wasn’t you?”

“It was,” he shrugged. “I got here first.”

“That’s not the point!”

Your voice cracked under the weight of the day. Between exhaustion, stress, and now this emotional whiplash, your eyes burned with unshed tears. You turned away, biting down on the frustration. You didn’t want to cry, not in front of him, not now, not ever.

“…Hey,” Jeff said softly after a moment, voice losing that teasing edge. “C’mon. Don’t be mad.”

You didn’t respond, just walked toward the kitchen to start your evening routine, collecting your abandoned bag from the ground and dumping your keys and phone on the counter. You opened the fridge, stared inside, then closed it again.

Jeff padded in behind you, quieter now. The change in mood was subtle, but real. He watched you for a second, then leaned his weight against the counter beside you.

“Rough day?” he asked, voice quieter this time.

You shrugged. “Same shit. You know how it is.”

“I don’t,” he smirked. “My day involved a guy’s trachea and a folding knife.”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course it did.”

“I brought you something,” he offered.

You looked over at him warily. “Is it a severed finger again?”

“…No.”

“Because last time you said you brought me something, it was in a ziplock bag and I still have nightmares.”

Jeff chuckled. “Okay, this time, it’s better.” He reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a single gas station chocolate bar, a little squished. He offered it to you like a peace treaty.

Your lips twitched despite yourself. “You stole this, didn’t you?”

“Obviously.”

You took it from him with a sigh and opened it. “Fine. You’re lucky I’m too tired to stay mad.”

He grinned and leaned in, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “You always say that.” His lips were cold and he smelled like outside, meaning he had definitely walked here from the mansion. Also meaning he probably intended on staying the night. You didn’t mind, him being here made you feel safe.

You munched on the chocolate and walked toward the couch, flipping off all the lights you had turned on in your panic, and shedding your outer layer again as you sat with a deep exhale. “You’re not even supposed to be here tonight. You’re still on call, aren’t you?”

“I ditched early,” he said, dropping beside you like a cat, legs sprawled, arms resting behind his head. “Told Masky I had important business. And I do.”

“Oh yeah?” you asked, kicking your feet up. “What business is that?”

He tilted his head toward you, eyes hooded. “You.”

You shook your head with a soft, helpless laugh. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”

“And you love it.”

His hand found your thigh, fingers tracing patterns there while you chewed the last bite of chocolate. The warmth of his palm soothed more than it should have.

“…Missed you,” you admitted finally, softer now. “Even if you’re the worst.”

Jeff turned his face toward you, smile a little smaller now, but more real.

“Missed you too.”

You leaned your head back and closed your eyes, feeling the weight of the day finally start to lift. He didn’t leave your side. Just stayed there, content, his presence strange and comforting all at once.

Jeff’s hands were warm and steady, his touch deliberate as he pulled you closer onto his lap. The weight of your body against his felt grounding, like an anchor to the calm you hadn’t realized you’d been craving all day. His fingers curled lightly around your waist, easing the tension that had curled tight inside you since morning.

His breath brushed softly against your ear, low and rough in a way that sent a comforting shiver down your spine. 

“Hey,” he murmured, voice thick with something softer than you expected. “You don’t gotta be so tense.”

His lips traced a lazy path down your neck, featherlight kisses that felt like a balm on skin that had been cold and raw for hours. You could feel the slow unwinding beginning deep inside your chest, the tight coil of exhaustion loosening with each gentle touch.

One hand slipped beneath your shirt, fingertips ghosting along your ribs, memorizing the curves and the way your breath hitched when he found the tender spots. You closed your eyes, letting his touch carry you away from the harsh buzz of the day—the deadlines, the weight of responsibilities, the pressure that never seemed to ease.

Jeff’s other hand traveled lower, trailing along your thigh, fingertips tracing delicate circles that sent warmth blooming through your skin. 

“My girl is so stressed,” he whispered against your skin, voice a soft promise. “We gotta fix that, right?”

You leaned into him, back to chest, letting yourself breathe him in—the faint scent of smoke and earth and something darker, something utterly Jeff. His hands moved with slow certainty, sliding beneath the hem of your shirt, skin pressing against skin, grounding you in a way no words could. His fingertips were cold, but it wasn’t a terrible sensation.

His lips pressed firmly against yours, coaxing, teasing. The kiss was patient, undemanding, the kind that made your whole body still except for the slow burn growing inside your chest. His hands explored without hurry, mapping every line, every shiver, every breath you let slip.

They roamed down, fingers pushing past the waistband of your pants and slipping them down slowly, as if you wouldn’t be able to notice if he did it easy enough.

“Jeff,” you sighed, lying your head back onto his shoulder. 

The tightness in your jaw eased as he pressed his chin atop your shoulder, his eyes half-lidded with something raw and hungry. “Just relax,” Jeff breathed, his thumb tracing small, lazy patterns along your skin. “I’ve gotcha.”

You could feel tears prickling at the edges of your eyes—not from sadness, but relief. Relief that someone saw you, that someone wanted to take this burden away from you, even if only for a little while—even if that person used these same hands to end lives.

“You don’t have to fight it,” Jeff whispered, voice low and steady, coaxing you into surrender. “Let me help my baby out.”

He pushed the fabric of your pants down past your knees, the garment pooling onto your ankles as your thighs fell apart, kicking them off onto the carpet beneath.

The fabric of your panties was already damp, Jeff’s arm reaching around your hips to press his palm atop the fabric. He hummed in your ear, planting one wet kiss after another against the sensitive spot beneath your earlobe that he knew made chills run up your back.

You sighed, hands falling down beside you to grip the fabric of his jeans underneath, his arms wrapping around you tightly as you let your body relax into him.

“What so ever could they be doin’ to you at work to make you this tightly wound?”

“Jeffrey, do not talk to me about my job right now,” you huffed, gripping the side of his leg when he began to rub his thumb in tiny circles against your clothed clit. “You’re so mean.”

He chuckled, pressing his thumb down firmly. “That so?”

Jeff’s fingers were now rubbing against your folds through your panties, causing you to moan at the friction. He playfully nipped at your neck before looking at you with eyes that look like he wanted to eat you alive.

You were close to nagging at him for teasing so bad, until he’s moving both hands away from your cunt and up under the fabric of your shirt, sliding it up your stomach and over your bra, letting it bunch up on your chest under your chin.

“Jesus, I love you,” he groaned, palming your tits through your bra, squeezing them enough to make you whine, then letting them go. You could feel his bulge hardening against your back, the length pressing against your tailbone as Jeff slid his hands back down your stomach to the hem of your panties.

You reached your hands behind you, blindly searching for Jeff’s belt, before his hand snatched your arms forward.

“Nuh uh,” he warned, moving both of your hands back to your front and readjusting the two of you so you weren’t sitting directly on his bulge. “I’m takin’ care of you, baby.”

“You’re telling me the Jeffrey Woods doesn’t want to get off? Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?”

“Enough,” he groans, slipping his fingers under the hem of your panties and dragging them down your thighs. You lift your hips, helping him get them down your knees and off your ankles. He cups his left hand under your knee, pulling your thighs apart as you place your right foot on the couch next to his leg. You gasp when the cold air hits your damp folds, but Jeff’s hand quickly comes to remedy that.

“Now shut up,” he grumbles, licking lewd little circles on your neck, thumbing open your puffy folds to watch in amazement at the way you glisten and clamp around nothing.

You sigh, letting your head fall limp against his shoulder as you watch his face, his brows knotted and concentrated as he runs his fingers through your slick, easing you more.

He pressed the pads of his fingers against your clit, swiping slowly back and forth, sending the nerves in your legs and stomach jerking, legs nearly closing if it weren’t for his hand tugging them back apart.

You tilted your hips up, trying to get his fingers to push down further to where your cunt was weeping and clamping around, sadly, nothing. You’re soaked, pussy lips practically glistening in the glow of your table-side lamp. Your whines were enough to make Jeff chuckle, the vibration of it against your back. “So impatient.”

“I don’t like to be teased, you kno—oh…”

You can’t even finish your sentence before his two middle fingers are pushing against your entrance, the first inches of them slotting in and out, loosening you up. You huff a gasp, stomach clenching as your walls immediately clamp tight around the thick digits, sucking them in greedily. Jeff watches over your shoulder with hungry amusement.

“This all for me? Shit, baby, I’m gonna have to ruin you.”

Jeff never has and never will be a patient man, no matter how breathy your moans are when his two middle fingers begin to pump deeper and deeper into your cunt with each jerk of his wrist. He doesn’t stop until he gets knuckle-deep, letting your filthy hole clamp and flutter around him, before massaging his fingertips against your walls.

“Ah, yeah—right there-” you groan, letting your knees fall limp apart as you reach behind your head to grip into the back of Jeff’s hair. The veins running up his forearm are bulging, muscles tensing as he begins to pump his fingers in and out, dragging the hilt of his palm against your clit with every jerk.

There’s no room to catch your breath, no time to readjust your body as it slips down his chest and further into his lap, only relying on Jeff’s hold on you to keep yourself upright. You grab and tug at his hair, searching for anything grounding as his knuckles bulge in and out of the first tight ring of muscle, cunt stretching across his fingers when he begins to scissor into you slowly.

You didn’t get to dwell in the feeling for too long before his fingers were slipping out of you, fingers soaked all the way to the knuckles as he dragged them back up to your clit and began massaging, faster this time. Harder.

“Oh shit—okay-” you whine, thighs instinctively trying to close back together, but Jeff’s grip holding tight as always. You tried to sit back up, to give your body some relief, but Jeff just pressed his fingers down harder.

“You’ve got it, babe. Don’t go runnin’ from it.” He growled, plunging them back into your cunt and starting to fuck them inside of you quickly. He gave you no time to adjust, curling and crooking his fingers to snag against every sensitive spot he knew all-too-well, his thumb rubbing circles into your clit.

“Jeff—hah—hold on-”

“No can do. Gotta finish what we started, right?”

Pulling back to tease your folds with your own slick, he plunges into your swollen pussy once more, easily hitting that spot over and over. 

“Hngh- Jeff, more!” You grind your hips to meet his merciless rhythm, clenching around his fingers. 

You feel as if you’re losing your sanity when he adds in another finger, walls burning as your cunt stretches around his thick digits, rhythmically curling upward. The noises are so lewd, wet squelching and skin slapping filling up the quiet noises of your house.

It’s halted when he’s dragging his fingers out again, moving to swipe against your twitching clit as he had before, but this time with a faster pace. More focused on making your lips fall open and whines of sensitivity slip from you. “Ah—hah, Jeff, c’mon-”

“Now now…not yet,” he tuts mockingly.

“Please, Jeff. Please let me cum.”

“Begging? Really?” He chides, pushing three fingers back into your sloppy with no resistance anymore, your cunt open and weeping around the stretch. “You really must be tired, huh?”

You feel his cock twitch against your back, jeans stretching over the bulge that reminds you he’s enjoying this just as much as you are. Well, you’d be enjoying this a lot more if you could fucking cum. Every time you get that familiar feeling, his fingers are slipping back and forth between hole and clit, ruining any build-up you had.

It took you jerking his hair and turning your face into the side of his neck with pitiful whines before he finally nestled his fingers deep inside again, sheathing them to the knuckle. Increasing his pace, abusing your g-spot relentlessly, Jeff knew by your breathy moans of his name that you were getting close. 

His left hand moves from under your knee, letting it drop atop his leg and dangle with all the exhaustion you held. His now-free hand wanders the expanse of your body—groping your breasts, gripping your hips back, forcing your ass to grind back into his clothed length. All the while your soft mewls making him grin.

Jeff’s hand, blister riddled and fingers calloused from years of weaponry, finally rest on your face. He pushes your cheeks together, drool pooling at the corner of your mouth and forcing you to look at him. Your dazed eyes meet his darkened ones, a smug grin as he rubs his thumb hard against your clit.

“Look at me when you cum,” he murmurs raspily into your neck, teeth ghosting over your rapid pulse. You couldn’t look away if you tried, his lips ghosting up your jaw and across your cheek until they planted firm on your puffed ones.

He tugs his fingers out, before slamming them just right inside of you. All you know is you’re cumming all over Jeff’s fingers, hands clutching into his hair and eyes rolling just enough to make your head feel light. Jeff watches the entire time, wide eyes trained on the way your lips fall open.

“Fuck! Jeff- Jeffrey!” You whimper.

“Yeah, there you go. There you go.”

He keeps his palm pressed flat against your cunt, fingers clamped together by your constricting walls, letting you ride out every rippling wave of your orgasm. His hand is soaked, your juices dripping from your cunt and down the roundness of your ass, down onto his jeans. You’ve made a mess.

As your climax bates, he buries his face in your neck, kissing softly over your slowing pulse. “Did so good, baby. You did perfectly,” he breathes out, hugging you closer as if to hide this vulnerable moment. But you feel the heat of his cheeks on your skin. You also still feel his cock pressing into your ass.

Lifting your head, you admire Jeff’s hardened features. Face flushed, lips swollen, dark eyes half-lidded as he stares down at you in admiration.

“You’re merciless. Ruthless, even.” You huff out a low laugh.

“No doubt about it.” He finally slips his fingers from inside you, your teeth gritting as your walls try their best to hold him in place.

His fingers are soaked, tips nearly pruning from the wetness. More juices pool from your cunt, sending a shudder down your skin, goosebumps rising on your legs from the cold. But even with all the uncomfortableness of it, you can’t help but notice your head has quit hurting, body isn’t as sore, overall attitude less fogged from the day you’ve had.

“I need a shower. And food. And to sleep for the rest of my life.”

“I’m pretty good at making people sleep for the rest of their lives.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, Jeff’s arms wrapping under your back and twisting you sideways, his one arm scooping up your legs and lifting you up as he stands off the couch. He carries you towards your bedroom, holding you close to his chest.

“You take a shower, I’ll make you food.”

“Your cooking sucks.”

“You’ll get over it.”

He set you down on the bathroom counter, the cold tile making you hiss as he sauntered over to start the water in the shower.

You couldn’t help but notice the obvious stain on his thighs, dark wetness soaking into the thick fabric. You smiled, glancing up just enough to see that he was still very-much sporting a boner.

“Are you still hard?” You smile, teasing him as the water begins to warm, steam rolling over the glass. Jeff doesn’t answer, just rolls his eyes and walks over to help you off the counter, pushing you towards the shower.

You think for a moment before stepping in, turning to run a hand down his chest, heart thudding against his ribs.

“If you make me a grilled cheese, I’ll suck your dick before we go to bed.”

Jeff doesn’t need to be convinced any further. With a kiss against your cheek and a helping hand to get the rest of your clothes off, he’s disappearing back toward the kitchen with a jittery laugh.

“Deal. But don’t get mad if it’s burnt, alright?”

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ MASKY

You froze.

A rush of cold spilled down your spine as two arms wrapped around your waist from behind, tight. But before panic could reach your throat or your hands could react with the broomstick, you heard a familiar breath—low, steady, a little tired.

“Hey,” came the voice, muffled against your shoulder. “It’s just me.”

Masky.

You let your tensed shoulders sag, releasing a sharp breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, and nearly dropping the broom on the ground.

He pulled you back a step, chest against your back, hands smoothing over your sides like he was trying to melt the stress out of your skin. “Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said quietly. “The door, I didn’t have time to close it before you were unlocking the front. My bad.”

You twisted in his arms enough to look up at him. Even with the mask still on, his body said everything—guilt in the way he ducked his head slightly, gentleness in the way he held you like something he didn’t want to break. Still, you glared with all the anger and fear burning in your body.

“You think?” you grit, voice shaky but slowly recovering. “I thought I was about to get murdered.”

“Evidently.” He eyed the broomstick squeezed in-between the two of you. You nudged him, and he gave a slow exhale, cupping your face like he was handling porcelain. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Really.”

And you believed him.

“I should have grabbed a knife. Maybe getting stabbed will teach you to not to sneak up on people.”

“I promise you, it wouldn’t.”

You leaned into his touch just a little. “You always sneak around like a damn ghost. You ever think of just knocking?”

He chuckled under his breath. “Wouldn’t be me if I did.”

You rolled your eyes, but the tension was already ebbing. You wanted to be upset with him, but the constant hardened look in Masky’s eyes always rolled unease off your shoulders. He kissed your forehead through the mask, then nodded toward the kitchen.

“Sit. You’re gonna tell me about your day, and I’m gonna make you something before you start melting into the floor. You look beat.”

You didn’t argue. You dragged your feet to the living room, switching off all the lights you had flipped in your panic, throwing the broom back into the closet, dropped into the couch, and watched him bustle around like someone who had done this a dozen times before. He made sure to shut the back door, too. Coffee brewed, a pastry from your cupboard was plated, and all the while, his eyes flicked back to you with that quiet protectiveness he wore like a second skin.

When he returned, he gently nudged your legs to drape over his lap as he sat next to you. You crossed your legs, calves lying atop his thighs, back pressed into the arm of the couch, as he handed over his gifts.

“Eat first,” he muttered. “Talk later.”

You sighed at the first touch of his hands kneading into your calves, thumbs pressing into the tight spots just right. It was maddening how good he was at this. The kind of man who knew the exact angle to dig into the muscle, the exact pressure to make it all unravel.

You ate what he had made you, sipping on the steaming coffee that Masky just always seemed to know how to brew just right no matter what brand you bought. When finished, you laid it on the table next to your couch.

“Long day?” he asked, his voice quieter now, slower. He ran a hand up to your knee, not asking for more than you were willing to give.

“The worst,” you murmured, letting your head fall back. “You ever feel like no matter how much you do, it’s never enough?”

“All the time,” he said simply.

He worked his way up your legs, then, shifting until your knees bent and he could pull you into his lap without resistance. You settled into him with a quiet sigh, your cheek against his shoulder, cradling you. He smelled like cold air and pine needles, something earthy that grounded you instantly.

He tilted your chin gently, mask still on, but his mouth pressed atop your head, chin resting there. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. But I’ll listen if you do.”

You hesitated. Then nodded.

And for a while, you just… talked. About the manager who wouldn’t leave you alone. About the customer who screamed over nothing. About how tired you were of pretending to be okay when really you just wanted the world to stop spinning for five minutes.

Masky didn’t say much—but his hands did. One arm around your waist, the other slowly brushing up and down your spine. Reassuring. Real. His mask shifted up his face while you spoke. First, above his mouth so you could see the dark facial hair across his jaw, then above his nose, then completely off, left on the table next to your dirty dishes. You tried not to make a show of seeing his face, but it always made you a little giddy when he removed his mask on his own.

And then—quietly, like he was asking permission—he lifted you just enough to shift you deeper into his lap. His other hand skimmed up your side, drawing idle circles as he began to press kisses to your shoulder, your neck, your jaw.

“Forget the rest of it,” he murmured. “Right now, it’s just me and you.”

The heat of him, the slow way his fingers ghosted over your ribs, the softness in his voice—it was everything you needed and nothing you deserved.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” he whispered. “Not with me.”

“Sam can be said about you, tough guy.”

He chuckled, but didn’t respond, so you continued.

“How was your day?”

He waited, thinking over his answer. “Had worse. But still not good. Left after everyone went to sleep ‘cause I decided I wanted to see you.” He paused for a second, glancing between you and the window outside. “I’ll be gone in the morning.”

“Don’t. Stay as long as you want. Anything to get you out of that mansion for a bit, yeah?”

“If you insist,” he chuckled.

You melted then, entirely, your fingers curling in the front of his shirt. Letting him kiss your worries away, one soft press at a time. Every nerve in your body quieted. Every fear, every sharp edge the day left behind, dulled under the warmth of his touch.

You didn’t need anything else.

Until his hand dipped in-between your thighs. 

It wasn’t rushing or assuming, but just a flat palm slid between the warmth of your legs and resting against the apex of your body. The touch was lightening, tired body shifting to life when the hilt of his hand pressed firm against your center.

”Masky…” you breathed between kisses, half a question and half a sigh of want. He didn’t make any movement, but he didn’t pull away either, just continued kissing.

“Tell me to stop if you wish. Just want to help you relax a lil’.” He hummed against your temple, his facial hair tickling against your cheek.

“No— Uh, no.” You hesitated, evaluating your own body and tiredness, then accepting the fact that now you would be too stirred to relax anymore after the move he had just made. “Want you. Need you.”

“Easy now, don’t get worked up.”

“Hypocrite,” you shoved his shoulder, twisting off of his lap and planting your feet on the ground. You stood in front of him, facing away, and began to unbutton your pants. Your cheeks burned, no doubt Masky being able to see the deep red on the tips of your ears as you shimmied your pants down your thighs and off your legs.

You heard the unstrapping of laces behind you, boots being kicked off of feet and jacket being thrown to the other side of the couch before hands were planting on your hips and turning you around.

You placed your hands on Masky’s shoulders, his fingertips tracing the stitching of your panties as he leaned forward to place slow, breathy kisses against your stomach through your shirt. He hooked your panties around his thumbs, then slowly slid them down your thighs and off with your pants behind you. 

Masky lifted the hem of your shirt, placing another kiss just below your belly button before he was sitting back to look up at you, eyes heavy-lidded and cheeks a dark shade of red. You ran your fingers through the short hairs at the back of his head, but before you could make a move to remove any more clothes—his or yours—Masky was grabbing your arms, turning you, and pulling you down onto his lap.

He shuffled you both back, laying long-ways on the couch with his back sitting up against the armrest. He laid your back against his chest, planting his feet into the cushion so your legs hard to spread around them, cold air hitting your center with a chill.

“Wha- You’re not even taking your shirt off?” You question, readjusting and making yourself comfortable on top of him, entire body laying against his. Masky just chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist and planting kiss after kiss against your neck.

“No need,” he hummed, running his hands down your waist and over the tops of your thighs, dipping under them to tug your legs back, pulling them apart. You planted your feet against each of his knees, socked feet slipping against the material of his jeans. “I scared you, so I have to make up for it somehow.”

“Ah, don’t say that,” you mumbled, hands tugging up the hem of your shirt as Masky’s rubbed further and further down. “I already forgave you.”

“Mhm. But I don’t see you stopping me.” You could feel his smirk against your jaw as he spoke, the deep baritone of his voice vibrating against your back. You would have given a retort back, but Masky was suddenly sitting up and hissing in pain.

“Wha-”

He reaches behind him, a click of something being unsnapped, and the rustling of metal. You’re jarred, until Masky pulls out his pistol that usually stays strapped to the holster on the back of his belt. He grimaced, setting the gun back on the nightstand next to the dishes.

“You’re kidding,” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes.

“Whoops,” he chuckled, lying back down and dragging you back with him.

It was a blur of hands and lips next—Masky’s arm came to wrap around your middle, while his free hand grabbed your jaw and turned your head to kiss him fully. You smiled into the kiss, but found yourself being cut of when two fingers pressed between you, fingertips pressing against your lips.

You happily obliged, parting your lips as Masky sunk his thick middle fingers into your mouth, your hand wrapping around his wrist when he tried to push back further, slightly coughing on the digits.

“Nice and wet. There we go…” he hummed, feeling your tongue slip around his fingers and groan at the salty taste of them. Only when your drool began to coat your own lips and shine on his knuckles did he draw them out, leaving you breathless and flushed.

One arm still gripped around your middle, he let his spit-glistened fingers trail down between your legs. He found your clit immediately, wasting no time in pushing his fingers through your folds and spreading you open, fingertips pressed firm against your sensitive nub and drawing small circles.

“Ah, hah- Masky-” you huffed, planting your hands on his forearms and digging your nails into his sun-kissed skin. Thick veins ran up his arms, strong muscles from countless missions toning his body in all the right ways. It was mouthwatering, really. The only downfall? Every part of him was thick, fingers especially.

“Let it out, there you go.”

If there was one thing about Masky you knew for certain, he knew what he wanted and he always knew how to get it. Whether that be your noises, a specific body reaction, or just your pleasure all over his fingers—he was going to have it, and it was going to be now.

Another circle on your clit before Masky was pressing downwards, scissoring his fingers to spread your pussy lips apart and hum at the glisten that shone in the lamp light. You were dripping, and he hadn’t even done anything yet.

Your nails dug into the skin of his forearm when he began to prod his middle finger against your entrance, swiping up and down the slit but never fully pressing in. You whined, shifting your hips with each movement and praying that he would just finger-fuck you already.

“C’mon-”

“Shhh, don’t be whining,” he smiled, planting an open-mouth kiss against your neck, sucking the skin lightly and sending shock after shock through your body. “Need’a just let me take care of you, sweetheart.”

He tightens his grip on your waist, and you release a spell of air, giving Masky the chance to slip the first knuckle of his middle finger into the warmth of your cunt. You mewl, head lying back on his shoulder, eyes blinking slowly as he works the digit slowly in and out. It’s thick, and Masky can’t help but groan to himself at the way your folds stretch around it.

His bulge pressed against your back, the subtle shift and grind of his hips against you making you reel.

“More…” You huff, pushing his arm down and angling your hips up, whining for the entirety of his finger, not just the first knuckle.

“Greedy, greedy girl…” He purrs, popping off of your neck and moving up to your jaw, continuing his abuse there. Your neck is shining with his spit, little flowering bruises slowly fading in with each minute.

Masky obliges, curling his middle finger and pressing it deeper, warming his finger in your wetness and feeling the fluttering of your walls just begging for more, more.

You grovel, tilting your hips back and forth in time with his wrist, his one finger pumping in and out of you quickly, stirring your stomach with shocks of pleasure. It’s still not enough, you decide, turning your face into the side of Masky’s neck and whining there.

“Oh, what? C’mon, tell me what you want,” he slows his finger, teasing it in and out, the digit soaked with your arousal. “Don’t get all shy.”

“Another…”

“Another what, sweet girl?”

You huff, digging your nails into his arm just to prove a point, “Your fucking finger, Masky. Please.”

“Atta girl.”

Masky free arm unwraps from your waist, hand snaking down to press finger pads against your clit, hard—enough to make you flinch. You feel a second finger begin to stretch against your entrance, the tight ring of muscle sucking in the thick digits like they belonged there.

“Yeah—yeah—yeah-” You chant against his neck, tilting your gaze down to watch as one knuckle after another dips inside of you, just to tug back out again. He begins to slowly pump his two middle fingers in, your hips jerking to meet every pass.

His other hand does wonders, swiping lewdly across your clit, sounds of wet skin and arousal overtaking the silence of your home. You brace your hands on his forearms still, fingers clenching in time with his.

“Tell me what you’re feelin’, sweetheart,” he mumbles against your ear, biting at the carriage and sending goosebumps shooting across your skin. It’s accompanied with the repetitive massaging of that sweet spot deep inside that only he can reach, fingers pumping and knocking against every sensitive nerve on their way out. Masky knows your body like the back of his hand, and it’s proven here and now. “Let me hear that sweet voice.”

“Good—hah-” You gasp, gritting your teeth when he curls his fingers upwards, scissoring your cunt wider. “Jus-hngh-Just keep going.”

He gives a heavy circle onto your clit, fingers tugging at the nub, before his hand is retreating. You nearly whine, exasperated that he did exactly what you told him not to do, until his hand is wrapping around your wrist.

He maneuvers your hand down, pressing his fingers atop yours directly onto your clit, showing you how to rub yourself. When you slowly start doing the motion on your own, he lets your hand go.

You want to question, but he’s wrapping his hand around your jaw and tilting your face up, pressing a firm but wet kiss against your swollen lips. Then his fingers are slipping down, until his fist is wrapping around your throat and—

Oh.

The lightheaded sensation is instant, brain growing fuzzy with the little oxygen that you’re not getting to your head. He places the pressure on either side of your neck, right under your jaw, and squeezes until your lips are parting and you’re gasping.

Your fingers stall their movements on your clit, his two still pumping mercilessly into your sopping cunt, and a low rumble erupts from his chest.

Then his fingers inside of you come to a dead stop.

You whine, sucking in a rattled breath against the pressure constricting you, and try rocking your hips. Masky stays still.

“Move them fingers, sweetheart.”

You immediately light up, your hand getting to work at rubbing your cunt until tears prick the corners of your eyes, thighs jerking to close with every circle. Masky catches up immediately, the palm of his hand hitting against your fingertips every time he fucks his fingers into your wilting hole, his digits glistening.

His grip on your throat tightens, your eyes rolling back as your mouth creates an ‘oh’ shape, gasping for air. The air swimming in your brain makes your vision hazy, but it also heightens the sensations of every nerve lighting up in your cunt, every curl and jerk of fingers against yourself.

“You’re gettin’ close, pretty girl,” Masky hums, pressing his lips directly against your ear, gritting his teeth when your free hand comes up to wrap around his wrist. “Let it all out. Come all over me, sweetheart.”

His fist tightens one final time, your airway completely shuts out, and that’s what does you in. Your orgasm hits you like a train, hard and fast, and with barely any warning. Your nails are tearing into his arm, fingers rubbing your clit so hard you see stars, and his fingers—they’re slamming into your g-spot, legs shaking so hard they slip off his knees and fall wide. 

You cum into his palm, your arousal soaking his fingers and dripping down his wrist, absolutely covering your inner thighs and plush lips. Masky growls, deep and low, nipping at the corner of your ear while your cunt convulses and grips his fingers impossibly tighter.

He lets his grip off your throat, a crying gasp for air that has your stomach tightening and eyes shooting wide. He shushes you, rubbing methodical circles against your cheek as your head falls back limp against his shoulder. You’re shaking all over, body absolutely wrecked.

It took more effort than you care to admit for Masky to slowly tug his fingers out of you, muscles clamping down against the digits like they were begging him to stay.

The couch creaked softly beneath you both as you lay draped over him, cheek pressed against the side of his neck, listening to the steady thud of his heartbeat in his pulse.

Masky’s arms slung lazily around you, one hand tracing slow circles onto your chest, the wiping against his pant-leg. His chest rose and fell beneath you, and you felt his lips brush your temple.

“You did so good, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice thick and gravel-warm, like it had melted under the weight of contentment. “So damn good for me.”

Your tired body softened further at the praise, sinking against him with a faint sigh. He could feel your heartbeat syncing with his, slower now, soothed. There was no residual work-related emotion left in your body, no room when now all you could think about was how good you felt, how full.

His fingers ghosted along your jaw again, dragging a quiet shiver from you despite the warmth still lingering between your bodies. “You’re so pretty,” he added, quieter this time, like it wasn’t meant to be said aloud—but he said it anyway. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

You nuzzled against him, and he chuckled — low and affectionate. Then, gently, he shifted beneath you.

“C’mon,” he whispered, sitting up with you still loosely wrapped in his arms. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You wanted to protest, say you were fine, but your legs felt like jelly and your brain wasn’t quite caught up to your body yet. He carried you effortlessly, strong arms cradling you to his chest, his jacket and your pants abandoned on the floor behind him.

He carried you to your bedroom, sitting you on the bed while he disappeared to the bathroom. You could’ve fallen asleep right there, if the chilly air was lighting your body with goosebumps.

The bathroom lights were low and the tub was already half-full, steam curling upward like fog in the amber light when he gathered you back up and guided you to the bathroom, helping you remove the rest of your clothes.

Masky sat on the edge of the tub with you still in his lap, his skin warm where it met yours, holding you like you were something fragile and precious. The water lapped gently at the porcelain.

He ran his hand along your arm, soothing, grounding. “I got you,” he said. “Always.”

Once he eased you into the water, you sank with a small moan, the heat cradling you like a second set of arms. You leaned back against the edge of the tub, head falling to the side where Masky sat on a folded towel beside it, one arm slung along the rim, fingers trailing in the water next to yours.

You blinked up at him through the haze. There was this softness in his eyes he never showed anyone else. Not even the others. Just you.

“You okay?” he asked gently.

“Yeah…” you breathed, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “Just… floaty.”

He smiled, barely there. “That’s the idea.”

Silence stretched comfortably between you, the kind that doesn’t need filling. Just the sound of the water sloshing quietly as he washed your legs, gentle and unhurried.

“I’ll be gone in the morning,” he said suddenly, not looking at you. “Long mission coming up, some out of town stuff.”

You opened your eyes at that, meeting his gaze.

He reached forward to brush wet strands of hair from your face, thumb trailing down your cheek. “I promise not to sneak up on you when I get back. Keep yourself safe until then.”

Your hand found his, fingers curling around his wrist, and you smiled—soft, tired, but real.

“Will you wake me up?” you whispered. “Just so I can kiss you bye.”

His lips quirked, and he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your damp forehead.

“Of course.”

You knew he wouldn’t, knew that he would get too sentimental about letting you sleep, but that was for tomorrow.

Tonight, you just couldn’t wait to kiss his face and tell him your every thought before slipping off to sleep.

And maybe repaying the favor, too.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ TICCI TOBY

You heard the fast cadence of feet moving behind you before you ever saw who it was, so obviously, you swung around broom-handle first. 

You felt the CRACK of wood against something hard, then turned the rest of your body around to see—

Toby?

His shoulder slumped against the wall, hands up in defense, and a sheepish grin on his now-red face. You knew he didn’t feel the pain of the hit, but he definitely felt the way it shook his brain for a second.

“Toby—!” you snapped, whirling towards him and swatting at his chest. “You scared the hell out of me.”

He was already grinning—goggles askew in his messy brown hair, hoodie half unzipped like he’d just walked in from a tornado. He ducked your halfhearted hits with an exaggerated lean, still giggling.

“You should’ve se-seen your face,” he said, wheezing through his grin. “I was gonna jump out from the closet but figured you might act-actually kill me.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t just now,” you muttered, heart still racing.

Toby tilted his head. “Yeah, but then you’d be stuck all alone again. Didn’t y-you miss me?” He stepped closer, hands slipping around your waist.

Your lips pressed into a line, still too wound-up from the fear to melt into his teasing right away. “Maybe. A little. But not enough to forgive you sneaking in through the back door like a horror movie villain.”

He leaned in, rubbing his nose gently against the side of your face. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “Just… couldn’t help it. You’re so fun to surp-surprise.”

You sighed, the weight of the day still pressing down on your shoulders. He felt it too—because his smile dimmed, his hand reaching up to trace the curve of your spine over your shirt, slowly and carefully.

“Tough day?”

You nodded. “Always is.”

“Then let me fix that.”

Before you could argue, Toby grabbed your hand and gently tugged you toward the couch, taking the broom from your hands and throwing it back into the hall closet. “C’mon. Si-Sit down. You can yell at me later—right now you need to unwind.”

Toby’s hand was warm, his grip light as he tugged you toward the living room. You didn’t resist, not this time. After the day you’d had—and the scare he gave you—you didn’t have the energy to argue. Not when your bones ached with exhaustion and your thoughts were foggy from pushing too hard for too long.

The two of you flipped off every light you had anxiously flipped on on the way back, and made sure to shut the back door tight.

He plopped onto the couch first, legs spreading carelessly as he sank into the cushions with a groan that sounded far too satisfied, kicking his boots off. Then, without waiting, he grabbed your arm and pulled you down with him—until your body was tucked into his side, your head resting against his hoodie-covered chest, the rhythm of his breathing loud in your ear.

“That’s better,” he mumbled, shifting slightly so he could wrap both arms around you, folding you into his warmth like a blanket he’d been missing for days. “You always smell like… I dunno. Like so-soap. And work.”

You chuckled weakly, your body already starting to sink against him. “That’s probably accurate.”

He made a content little noise in the back of his throat, the sound vibrating in his chest under your cheek. Then one hand came up—calloused fingers brushing your hair back, again and again in soft, soothing strokes. He played with the strands absently, combing them through with care, sometimes curling a few around his finger and letting them slide loose.

You didn’t realize how much you needed this until you felt yourself beginning to melt.

No pressure. No noise. Just the low hum of his breathing, the sound of the wind against the house, and his fingertips skimming over your scalp like he was drawing patterns only he could see.

He didn’t speak right away. He didn’t need to.

Toby was always better at this than you expected. For someone who buzzed with chaos and laughter and unpredictable energy, he could be surprisingly… still. When it counted. And right now, he knew better than to fill the space with words.

You closed your eyes.

“Want me to get you anything?” he murmured after a while, quieter now. “Water? Snacks? I saw a bag of chi-chips in the pantry that looked lonely.”

You shook your head. “Just this.”

“That’s easy,” he whispered, a soft smile curling against your temple. “I can do this all night.”

He pulled the blanket off the back of the couch with one arm, dragging it around both of you with a lazy flourish, then curled tighter around you. His chin rested gently on top of your head, and his thumb traced a lazy, slow circle on your side. Over and over. Repeating the motion like it meant something. Like maybe he was grounding himself too.

You didn’t have to talk. You didn’t have to think. He made sure of that—kissing your forehead now and then, humming softly under his breath, keeping his arms steady and his presence warm and close and real.

“You’re good now,” he said, so quiet you barely heard him. “I’m here, okay? I’m here.”

And for the first time that day—hell, maybe the first time that week—you believed it.

And in the lull of your stress fading and his fingers gently massaging behind your ear, it finally clicked: no matter how weird or chaotic or infuriating Toby could be, he always came back to you like this—like home.

But every home has its cracks, and every crack is a breach at the foundation. And sure as hell, you both had your cracks.

You tried and tried to get comfortable, but after a little bit, your body was just too sore, mind too hazy with work. But, like the adult you were, gritted your teeth and scrunched your brow. Toby, however, wasn’t going to let you get off so easy.

“‘Just this’ my ass,” he laughed, pulling your hips back against his when you turn off of his body and onto your side, back flush against his front. “You’re still sw-swimmin’ in stress.”

Even though he can’t see you, you roll your eyes at his dramatics. It’s hardly the first time you’ve forced yourself to sleep through a muddy brain, and usually by yourself. If anything, Toby’s pestering is making it more of an impossible task.

And yet, here he is wrapping his arms around your middle and pressing his face into your hair. His body shifts closer, the two of you laid out against the other, trying your best to play sleepy, knowing full well the other was wide awake.

You can’t help it.

You peel yourself from his body, sitting up and planting your feet off the ground. Toby groans, hands trying to grip at your shirt, but you’re already moving to the kitchen by the time he’s up.

“Whe-Where’re you going?

The kettle’s old, a little too loud when it clicks onto the burner. You reach for the tea tin, fingers trembling slightly from the built-up static in your bones. You didn’t even realize how deep the tension ran until you peeled yourself away from the couch. Every joint ached like your body was still clocked in.

Toby isn’t far behind, of course.

You hear the soft pad pad pad of his mismatched gait, socks barely making a sound on the floor. He doesn’t say anything right away—just leans his shoulder against the doorway, watching. You feel his stare like a heat across your back.

“…You didn’t answer me,” he says after a beat, voice thick and scratchy, like it’s caught somewhere between sleep and screaming.

“I needed something warm,” you mumble. “Can’t settle.”

“Couldn’t se-settle with me,” he teases, pushing off the doorframe. “Ouch.”

“It’s not you,” you say with a soft huff, grabbing two mugs out of the cabinet. “It’s just work. Manager’s still refusing to hire more help.”

He hums, unconvinced, and steps closer. He doesn’t bother hiding the way his hands find your waist, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, just enough to touch skin. The contact makes you shiver. Not cold—never with him around.

“I said you were st-still swimmin’ in stress.” His voice is closer now, the warmth of his breath skimming the curve of your shoulder. “Bet your head’s still full’a ema-email chains and shit.”

“It is,” you admit, biting back a sigh, scooping loose tea leaves into the strainer with slow, practiced fingers. “And tomorrow’s gonna be worse. I should be in bed.”

“So let me help,” he murmurs, all faux-innocent as his hands start to travel. “Didn’t I alrea-already do such a good job loosening you up earlier?”

“Toby,” you say warningly, but there’s no bite in it.

He grins into your shoulder.

The kettle isn’t even halfway to boiling when you feel him really close the distance — chest to your back, hips pinning you lightly to the counter, the twitchy energy in him turning molten. His lips brush your neck, first a feather-light graze, then a drag, then a kiss, slow and open-mouthed, right at the base of your throat.

Your breath catches in your lungs.

“Tobes…”

“You smell like me now,” he says into your skin, nose nuzzling behind your ear. “You got no idea how hard it is not to wanna crawl here after every day, just to see you, touch you, feel you.”

His hands spread wide across your stomach, palms flattening to keep you close. The gentle motion of his thumbs stroking absent patterns is a stark contrast to the heat coiling behind his kisses.

You let your head tip slightly, involuntarily—the smallest invitation.

“Still stressed?” He murmurs, one hand skimming undernesth your shirt and up to your ribs, not quite groping—just holding, grounding. “Or do I fi-finally feel you easin’ up?”

Your body is softening against him despite yourself. “You’re cheating.”

“You’re too uptight,” he counters, tone half-mockery, half-concern. “I’m just multitasking. Bein’ g-good for you and selfish at the same time.”

The kettle starts to whisper with pressure.

You could push him off. You should, maybe—wait for the tea, try to rest like an adult. But he feels safe against your back, fingers warm, breath warmer. Your thoughts slow a little under his touch, each kiss tugging you further from the work-stained haze you’d been drowning in.

“You’re not gonna let me drink that tea in peace, are you?”

Toby chuckles, the sound dark and fond and unmistakably turned on. His lips graze lower, teeth barely grazing where your shoulder meets your neck.

“…Nope.”

And then he bites, hard—enough to make you groan.

You grip the counter harder, bracing yourself as he presses fully into you from behind. You can feel him—hard, twitching, needy, through the thin fabric of both your clothes, and it makes your breath hitch again.

“I thought this was about helping me relax,” you say shakily, lips tugging into a grin despite the heat pooling between your legs.

He laughs, husky and low. “Oh, I am helpin’,” he mutters, biting gently at your earlobe. “You’ll be too tire-tired to think by the time I’m done.”

Toby watches over your shoulder as he unbuttons your pants, tugging them open as he dips his hand in and under the front of your panties, barely giving you time to gasp before his fingers are pushing through the growing wetness at your center.

Your hips buck against the counter as he drags two fingers over your folds, slow, testing. You’re already out of breath.

“Well fuck, sweetheart,” he growls, voice suddenly wrecked with want. “I haven’t even gotten st-started yet.”

“Your fault,” you whisper back, trembling, eyes fluttering shut as he teases his fingers through your folds, swiping slick against your puffy lips. “You started it.”

“And I’m gonna finish it,” he promises darkly, licking up your neck again. “Right here.”

Your eyes almost roll into the back of your head as he crooks one evil finger through your folds, gathering your slick to aid the taunting circles he begins to draw over your clit. He doesn’t care to drag your pants down any further, perfectly content with shoving your front against the counter and pressing his bulge against the roundness of your ass.

“Aha—Toby-” You whine, his fingertips rubbing merciless circles against your clit, your knees resisting the urge to buckle and crash you into the floor. Toby, all the while, is littering your neck with bites and kisses, disregarding exactly how much whiplash this is giving you. “Slow, agh—slow down.”

He lets off your neck, his free hand coming up to grip your jaw with wincing force, twitchy fingers dragging your deeply flushed face to turn and look at him.

He bores wide eyes at you down the length of his nose. He looks gloriously smug as he eases his middle finger inside you, but his mouth curling upwards at the wanton moan that spills from your lips as you clench around him.

“Naughty girl,” he murmurs, as he curls it just so. You nod fervidly and capture his lips in a desperate kiss, as though eager to prove his point. You whimper against his mouth when he repeats the movement, and he swallows the sound of your pleasure; opening up to you and delving in with his tongue.

His finger is quick, edgy jerks of his wrist lighting your cunt up with shock after sensitive shock as your thighs shake under you. His tongue explores your mouth, spit coating each other’s lips with each hungry kiss Toby plants upon you.

Pressure builds against the kettle's spout, air growing louder. 

“Think I can make my sweet girl cum before your pre-precious tea is ready?” He grits, popping off of your mouth with a satisfied grin and spit-glistened lips. You go to shake your head, go to tell him to take it easy, but he’s already bullying another finger into your sopping cunt, panties soaked nearly through your work pants.

“Jesus, Toby—yeah, yeah okay-” you spread your legs a little wider, leaning just a little further against the counter as Toby’s palm nudges ruthlessly against your sensitive clit.

He smiles wide, pressing his hips harder against your ass, grinding himself in time with his curling fingers as his free hand snakes up the front of your shirt, groping your tits. He’s becoming frantic, and you can only hope to keep up.

You bite down on your tongue to cut short your whiny moan as Toby presses the pad of his fingers into your g-spot. The depths of his eyes glitter dark with malevolent glee as you writhe between him and the counter—your body caught in a battle between wanting to chase what his fingers are doing and needing him to stop for two damn seconds so you can focus on not buckling under both his and your weight.

“Let it all out, c’mon sw-sweet girl, let me hear you,” he growls against your jaw, nipping against the skin there. Your hips jerk in time with his hand, body following the rub of his palm on your clit, feeling the ever-closer tightness in your gut.

He pulls out of you and begins to circle your clit once more.

Your frustration materialises in a noise that’s partway between a whine and a growl, and you throw your head back against his shoulder—dishevelled breathing nearly overshadowing the faint whistle building on the kettle.

There’s no controlling the way your hips roll to compliment his movements, even though you’re trapped against the counter thoroughly enough that your own movements are limited by Toby’s arm.

“Please,” you beg.

“Please what?”

Your hips buck when he catches on a particularly sensitive spot, a desperate attempt to have his fingers press into your entrance again. But he moves with you, continuing only to draw stuttering patterns.

“Let me hear you, sweet girl,” he repeats.

Your breaths have increased to a heavy pant, broken only by the small gasps and mewls at each movement he makes—all at once too much and not nearly enough. 

Maybe it’s the stance, or the overstimulation, or the fact that you’re about the cry if Toby doesn’t put his fucking fingers in your fucking pussy. But you’re slipping one hand off the counter and reaching back to tangle into his hair, dragging his gaze to meet yours.

“Please, Toby,” you pant. “I don’t care how fast you go, I do—hah—don’t care what you do. I just need to cum, right now. I need you to make me cum, Toby.”

Each word from your rambling mouth makes Toby’s eyes widen, grin growing wider and wider. He doesn’t need to be convinced any longer.

You mewl as he curls his fingers inside you, dragging against your walls as he begins a rapid, tear-jerking rhythm. He kisses and sucks at your ear, tugging on the lobe with a sharpness that has your eyes clamping shut and moans shrieking from your lips.

His free hand slithers from under your shirt to snag a bruising grip on your hips, encouraging you to grind your hips down onto his hand, his own hips rutting against you like a dog.

“Yeah, Toby—Yeah.”

You moan as he scissors his fingers inside you. You’ve been so overwhelmed by sensations until now that you’re only just realising the kettle is nearly ready, faint whistle growing louder—as Toby’s fingers grew faster.

“C’mon, baby, almost there—al-almost there.”

He adds a third finger, and begins to pump into you with much more intention than before, the hilt of his palm purposefully rutting against your clit, cunt absolutely sloppy with your arousal in your panties.

“I’m close—Toby, ‘m so close, c’mon-”

“Let me feel it, sweetheart.”

His fingers hit a particularly sweet spot, and you gasp in approval as he begins to pick up speed, hitting that spot again and again, coaxing and curling and grinding his palm relentlessly against your clit.

Toby pays rapt attention to your face as he drives you closer and closer to the edge. His eyes dart between yours, and his lips curl upwards with every desperate sound that spills from you. He supports your weight while your legs tremble beneath you, and you cling to him for dear life as your stomach muscles shake, and coil ever tighter until everything inside you is pulled taut and—

The tension snaps. Your spine arches against him, his hips plowing against yours, and you cry out as the first relentless waves of your orgasm crash over you. Toby guides you through each pitiful swell with deep strokes that have you seeing stars. He doesn’t dare to let a single ripple of pleasure pass you by.

You’re still gasping for breath, knuckles white against the counter, thighs twitching where they press together, trying to regain some sense of control—but your body is spent, trembling, soaked through.

Toby’s palm is warm and steady where it rests between your legs, the heel of his hand applying just enough pressure to keep the mess contained while you come down from the high. His fingers slowly slip from you, careful not to overstimulate, though the ghost of them lingers, making you shudder in place.

Then—

The kettle screeches, high whistle filling the air.

Toby snorts through his nose, resting his forehead against your shoulder with a groan.

“Well, looks like I win,” he mutters, sounding slightly dazed himself.

You’re still catching your breath, legs barely cooperating. “I can’t move.”

He doesn’t hesitate—just guides you easily by the waist and back towards your bathroom, minding your still-sensitive body. He keeps one hand on your hip while grabbing a rag with the other, wetting it with warm tap water.

“Stay put,” he murmurs. “Lemme clean you up.”

You hum softly, dazed and grateful as he shimmies your pants and panties off of your hips and down your legs, this time not with lust, but with care. He eyes your soaked panties.

“Ruined ’em,” he comments, not unkindly. He gives you a cocky little smirk. “Might fra-frame ’em.”

“Gross,” you whisper, but there’s a sleepy smile on your face now.

His hands are gentle now—soft wipes between your thighs, slow dabs where the fabric is soaked. The wet heat of your panties clings uncomfortably, and without asking, he hooks his fingers into the waistband and peels them down.

Once he’s done wiping you clean, he presses a lingering kiss to your cheek—reverent this time—and tugs your shirt down to cover you back up before standing. He moves with less twitch now, more grounded, like something has calmed the buzzing in his own nerves.

He wipes you gently, but when he shifts to toss the rag into the sink behind him, the movement presses his hoodie up just enough for you to see.

A dark, unmistakable patch soaks through the front of his jeans.

Your brows lift slowly, a smile creeping across your face. “Toby.”

He freezes, mid-reach. “…Yeah?”

You lean forward, tapping a finger against the wet spot on his pants. “Did you seriously come in your pants?”

He jerks slightly at the touch, groaning as if you’d just caught him doing something far worse. “Fu-Fuck, don’t say it like that,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. His ears flush red through his messy hair. “You were… God, you were makin’ noises, s-squeezin’ my fingers, it felt so good grinding against you… I wasn’t exact-exactly in control.”

You snort, amused and charmed all at once. “Didn’t even get your dick touched, and you still—”

“Don’t,” he whines, squeezing his eyes shut. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You laugh again, light and warm, and slide to stand in front of him. His hands instinctively land on your hips to steady you, but he avoids your eyes, embarrassed even though he’s the one who just made you come undone with his fingers alone.

“Hey,” you say gently, hands smoothing up under his hoodie, resting at his waist. “Let me take care of you now.”

His eyes open at that—cautious, a little wide. “You d-don’t have to—”

“I know,” you cut in, smiling softly. “But I want to.”

He swallows hard as you pull him toward the sink where the rag lies, damp and forgotten. You grab a clean one instead and dampen it with warm water, testing the temperature before turning back to him. “Pants down, killer.”

He stares at you like you just said the most blasphemous thing imaginable. “I hate you.”

“You love me,” you counter.

Toby groans in defeat, tugging open his jeans and boxers with minimal ceremony, wincing at the sticky mess inside them. You don’t laugh—not this time. Instead, you step between his legs, towel in hand, and meet his gaze with soft, adoring mischief.

“You really did make a mess,” you murmur, crouching slightly as you press the towel gently against him. You wipe him down with care, the same way he did for you—slow, soothing, careful not to tease too much, though it’s hard when you hear the little breathy sounds he makes.

He grips the edge of the counter behind him, watching you like you’re some kind of religious experience. “Fuckin’ hell, watch your hands.”

“I just like seeing you flustered,” you tease, brushing the inside of his thigh lightly.

He hisses softly. “You’re mean.”

“I’m sweet,” you correct, finally finishing your gentle cleanup and tossing the towel into the sink behind you. “You’re just really easy to get riled.”

He grabs your waist again and pulls you up against him, nose brushing yours. “You keep talkin’ like that and I’m gonna make us both miss tea and bedtime.”

You press a kiss to his jaw, light as a feather. “Tempting. But I think I’ve earned my tea.”

You both fix your clothes, you slipping on a fresh pair of bottoms, and shuffling back to the kitchen.

The kettle is still whistling softly, having clicked off on its own. He moves to pour the water, and you slide to grab the mugs, still a little wobbly in the knees.

He steadies you with ease, eyes flicking down to check on you.

“You okay?”

You nod, curling into his side. “Yeah. Sleepy, now.”

“Good.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “My duty has been fulfi-fulfilled.”

He hands you your mug first—your favorite one, the one he always pretends not to use but definitely steals when you’re not home. He hands you a steaming cup of tea steeped to perfection, then takes his own and nudges you toward the couch.

You settle in against him, tucked under his arm, legs draped across his lap. He presses a palm to your thigh, rubbing slow, grounding circles as you sip.

There’s still tension in your muscles, yes—but it’s softer now. Quiet. Manageable.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” you say quietly.

He hums, resting his head against yours. “Yeah, I did. You weren’t gon-gonna stop. You never do.”

“Hypocrite,” you snide, but he looks down at you with that rare, unfiltered softness.

“I want you tak-taken care of,” he says simply. “I beat too many randos up everyday. Sometimes I just wanna take care of somebody.”

Your heart swells. The tea in your hand warms your palms, but it’s nothing compared to the heat that fills your chest.

You lean into him, nose tucked into his hoodie, your body finally able to melt against something solid. He holds you there in silence, kissing the top of your head every so often.

The night is quiet now—no stress, no thoughts of work.

Just tea, Toby, and the steady, rhythmic beat of a heart that’s completely and totally in sync with yours.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ HOODIE

Arms wrap around you from behind. Firm. Familiar. Gloved hands press against your stomach, steadying you as you flinch and try to spin around, broom handle gripped tight.

“No need to scream,” his voice is low, calm, muffled slightly by the fabric of his mask. “It’s just me.”

You tense. “Jesus, Hoodie!”

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You turn in his arms to face him—not able to see his expression beneath the worn fabric of his hood, but it doesn’t matter. The tension bleeding from his shoulders says enough. He’s tired, like you. But he’s here.

“You left the door wide open,” you mutter, pushing against his chest with a huff, his hand leaving your waist to remove the broom from your hands. “You know I’ve had the worst week. I thought—I don’t know what I thought. I thought something happened.”

He nods, quiet, and doesn’t let you pull away too far. “I got the weekend off. I was going to surprise you. Thought I’d beat you home.”

You raise a brow. “So you decided to break in?”

“Technically, I have a key,” he mumbles under his breath.

You cross your arms, unimpressed.

“Okay,” he concedes with a sigh. “I messed up.”

Despite your irritation, a little huff of laughter escapes. He always does this—makes you want to stay mad just a little longer than you can actually hold it. Still, the adrenaline is slowly leaving your system now, and your body remembers how exhausted you are.

He watches you for a moment. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

He doesn’t press you. Instead, he steps out of your space and heads to the kitchen like he owns the place—and honestly, after all this time, maybe he kind of does. You hear the sounds of a mug being pulled down, the soft trickle of water filling the kettle. Cabinets opening. The scrape of a plate. It’s methodical. Gentle. Like he’s trying to undo the jolt he gave you.

You follow him, arms still crossed, trying not to let your annoyance outweigh your relief. On your way back, you flip off every light you had turned on in your frenzy, and make sure to shut the back door firmly.

Hoodie sets a steaming cup of tea in front of you a few minutes later and tugs the kitchen island chair back. “Sit.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re not the boss of me.”

“I’m the one who scared you half to death. Let me make it up to you.”

You blink at him. That’s as close to a romantic apology as you’re probably going to get. So… you sigh, scoop up the tea, and scoot into the stool. 

The mug’s warmth sinks into your palms. You lift it to your lips, take a slow sip—earthy, floral, a little sweet—and let out a sigh. The tension in your shoulders doesn’t disappear, but it dulls a bit, enough to make you realize how tightly you’ve been holding everything inside.

Across the island, Hoodie leans against the counter, his own mug cradled loosely in one gloved hand. His head is tilted slightly, watching you in that quiet, patient way of his — like he’s giving you time to unwind, wordlessly encouraging you to talk without pushing. 

You glance up at him through tired lashes. “Long week,” you murmur.

He nods. “Figured.”

“You?”

A grunt of acknowledgement. “We were out on rotation. Recon, mostly.” He shifts a bit, pulling his hood down with one hand and sliding the mask up above his nose just enough to drink. “Nothing exciting, but… exhausting.”

You frown a little. “You’re back early. That usually means something went wrong.”

He shrugs. “Not wrong. Just… tense.” A pause. “Tim’s been on edge.”

“More than usual?”

“Mhm.”

You blow softly on your tea, letting the heat curl against your lips. “Work’s been hell. My boss is a micromanaging narcissist and I’ve had two people quit in the last ten days. One of them cried in the break room before they left.”

Hoodie hums, like he’s picturing that too vividly. “You quit yet?”

You let out a dry little laugh. “I fantasize about it. Daily.”

“Do it,” he says simply. “I’ll hide the body.”

You roll your eyes, but the grin sneaks in anyway. “Not every problem can be solved by murder.”

“That’s where we differ.”

Another beat of silence passes, but it’s not awkward. Just shared weariness between two people who trust each other to hold the quiet without needing to fill it.

Then Hoodie lifts the front of his sweatshirt to his nose, sniffs himself, and grimaces.

You raise an eyebrow. “Charming.”

“Jesus,” he mutters under his breath. “We really are disgusting.”

You smirk into your cup. “I didn’t want to say anything, but you do smell like old sweat and outside.”

He glares at you over the rim of his mug. “You smell like stress and three-day-old coffee.”

“Fair.”

He finishes the last of his drink, sets it down with a soft clink, then pushes away from the counter. “Come on. Shower.”

You blink, surprised. “Together?”

He pauses. His body language doesn’t change, but you can feel the way his attention snaps to you—heavy and focused like a shift in air pressure.

You weren’t trying to sound suggestive, not really. But the way his eyes darken just slightly beneath the mask, the subtle way he squares his shoulders—it hits you low in your stomach.

“…That an invitation?” he asks, voice lower now. Rougher.

You stare at him for a long moment. Then nod. “Yeah. It is.”

The tension that follows is thick—not awkward, but heavy with something slow-burning, simmering beneath the exhaustion. Craving contact and comfort in the most stripped-down way.

He doesn’t move quickly. Just steps around the island and stops in front of you, gloved fingers brushing yours where they rest against the mug. He doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t have to.

Because when his hand slides into yours and you let him lead you down the hallway, it’s not about rushing or undoing the tension with heat—it’s about scrubbing off the week, the weight, the grime, together.

The bathroom is quiet, lit only by the small bulb over the mirror and the faint orange glow bleeding in from the hallway. You pad in behind him, feet soft against the tile, while Hoodie reaches for the knobs on the shower.

The pipes groan as hot water spills from the head, steam rising slowly. His gloves come off first, dropped beside the sink in a damp little thud. You reach out without a word, your hands brushing his as you move to help—first with his sweatshirt, tugging the hem up, his arms lifting in silent permission.

He watches you the entire time. You can’t see his eyes fully behind the fabric, but you feel them. Heavy. Focused. You pull the hoodie up over his head and it catches briefly on his mask—the cloth tight over his jaw—and you freeze. One hand lifts gently, thumb brushing the edge of the mask just above his cheekbone.

His body tenses.

“I don’t have to,” you whisper.

But he doesn’t stop you. Doesn’t speak. He just watches.

So slowly, carefully, you slide the mask up and off—exposing his mouth, his knotted brows, the quiet twitch of nerves along his throat as he swallows. His blond hair is messy, but you don’t care to fix it. You don’t stare. You just fold the fabric and set it aside, stepping close enough to press a kiss just beneath his chin. He exhales—long and low—and his hands settle on your hips, grounding himself.

Then it’s your turn.

You tug your own shirt over your head, his hands slipping around your back as soon as it’s gone. You feel him press a kiss to your collarbone, soft and unhurried, while you make quick work of the rest—pants, socks, underwear. He follows suit, until the only thing between you is warmth and anticipation.

The shower is fogged by the time you step in.

The hot spray hits your shoulders first, drawing a sigh from you both. You lean back against him as he closes the curtain behind you, his body flush against yours, his arms slowly wrapping around your waist. The water beads down your skin, over your back, between your bodies.

Neither of you speak.

His hands start slow—washing, soothing, mapping the lines of your body like he’s grounding himself in the shape of you. You do the same, fingers sliding across the plane of his chest, up to his shoulders. You trace the curve of his neck, the muscles tense beneath your fingertips, and he lets out a low hum that vibrates against your back.

His hands wander lower, over your stomach, hips, the inside of your thighs. Not demanding—just feeling. Exploring without pressure.

You tilt your head back against his shoulder. “Still feel gross?” you murmur.

His lips brush your ear. “Not even a little.”

You laugh, breathless, and twist in his arms so you’re facing him. The spray catches you both in the face, so he shifts slightly, shielding you with his body. One hand cups your jaw, the other smoothing over your lower back, pulling you closer.

Your chest presses to his, slick and warm under the water.

He doesn’t kiss you yet—just watches, eyes roaming your features like he’s trying to memorize every expression. One of your hands comes up to brush his damp hair back from his forehead. He’s so much more real like this. Human. Not the shadow you’ve grown used to meeting in alleyways or at your back door.

You lean in. Your lips touch his.

It’s slow. Not rushed or hungry—just hot, steady, present. He kisses you like he means it, like it matters. Like being here, with you, is the only thing that’s made his week feel real.

His hand slides down again, fingers brushing the swell of your ass, pulling you in. Your thighs meet his hips. Your body melts against him.

And it’s not just comfort anymore. It’s hunger in disguise.

The spray from the shower rolls heat around you, hot and soothing—but the real heat is pressed against you. He turns you, Hoodie’s chest flush to your back, his hands skimming up your sides, palms calloused but purposeful. Every touch is unhurried, deliberate, like he’s tracing your nerves from memory.

One hand finds your jaw, turning your face slightly so he can kiss you again—slow, deep, his lips dragging across yours like he’s trying to sink into you. The other dips lower, brushing your stomach, your hip, until he’s between your thighs.

You gasp, fingers gripping his wrist.

His palm flattens across your mound, his fingertips dipping between your thighs with featherlight pressure—teasing, exploring. He doesn’t say anything at first, just watches your face tilt slightly toward his, breath quickening when his fingers stroke along your slit.

“Let me,” he murmurs, voice rough in your ear. “Just relax for me.”

Your body leans into his, already giving in.

You’re already wet. Not just from the water—him.

A low, satisfied hum escapes his throat. “You’re soaked.”

You whimper as he drags his middle finger up slowly, parting you, brushing right over your clit. His fingers are big, his entire palm covering your cunt and making you squirm.

“Sensitive?” he murmurs against your temple.

“God—yes…”

You feel his smirk more than you see it. His lips graze your ear, breath hot, teasing.

“I haven’t even started yet.”

His hand moves with a firmer purpose now. His middle finger dips between your folds, gliding down to your entrance, and slowly—so fucking slowly—he pushes the first knuckle in. Your back arches against him as his finger sinks deep, curling slightly, testing the way your walls squeeze around him.

“Fuck,” he hisses, the sound husky, almost reverent. “So tight…”

You whine, eyes fluttering shut. His other hand comes up to brace your chest, sliding across your ribs, then down again—holding you still as he starts to move his finger, curling it gently with each pump. The water pours down over both of you, but all you feel is him—every slow press, every filthy grind of his palm against your clit.

You’ve barely had time to adjust when he’s pushing another finger.

Your legs nearly give out.

“Easy,” he murmurs, shifting his body behind yours to support your weight. “I’ve got you.”

The stretch of his fingers—thick, deep, perfect—has your mouth falling open in a gasp. He keeps them pumping in a steady rhythm, thumb circling your clit now with increasing pressure, drawing tight little spirals that make your stomach flutter.

“You feel that?” His voice is in your ear again, ragged and dark. “How wet you are for me? How fucking hard you’re squeezing?”

You nod helplessly, body tensing with every thrust of his fingers.

“Say it,” he demands softly.

“I—fuck—I’m so wet for you,” you breathe, barely able to form the words. “Feels so good, Brian—”

“That’s it,” he growls, voice cracked with restraint. “Let me make you cum. Let me feel you lose it.”

His fingers drive deeper, faster now—fingers still curled, stroking that sweet spot inside you over and over, his thumb unrelenting on your clit. Your knees start to shake. One of your hands flies up to brace the slick tile while the other scrambles to grip his wrist, holding on for dear life.

Your body is falling apart under him.

Every drag of Hoodie’s fingers has you writhing—hips rocking, thighs twitching, your hands scrambling to grip the slick wall for leverage as your orgasm builds fast and hard. The water from the shower pelts your chest and stomach, but all you can feel is him—his broad chest flush to your back, his breath hot and steady in your ear, and those thick, relentless fingers stroking deeper inside you with every second.

But your body’s fighting it.

Too much pleasure. Too intense. Your hips twitch forward, your spine arches, your whole body bucks instinctively to escape the overwhelming stimulation—

He doesn’t let you go.

Suddenly his chest is pressing harder into your back, and both your wrists are yanked behind you, caught in his grip. His free hand locks around them tight, pulling your arms behind you in a rough, controlled hold that drags a breathless cry from your lips.

“Stay still,” he growls into your ear, voice low, commanding, not up for argument.

Your gasp is punched out of you as the new position throws your balance off—spine arched, chest pushed forward, legs shaking as you try not to collapse under the weight of your own pleasure. You’re pinned now. Arms locked behind your back, completely open to him, vulnerable, dripping wet, and aching.

The fingers inside you don’t slow down. If anything—they get rougher.

“Don’t stop—don’t stop—” you gasp, hips grinding into his hand, chasing the release that’s almost too much too fast.

“Not gonna,” he grits. “Wanna feel you break for me. Right here. Right now.”

He plunges deep with every stroke, knuckle-deep, curling his fingers in a punishing rhythm that makes your eyes roll back. His palm grinds against your clit now, adding even more pressure—building you to a fever pitch, pushing you over that edge harder than you were ready for.

“F-Fuck, Brian—!” you cry out, voice shaking.

“You wanted to cum so bad,” he hisses into your hair. “Then cum for me. Right here. Let me feel it.”

Your whole body goes tense—knees buckling, thighs squeezing shut around his hand as your orgasm hits like a lightning strike. Your scream tears from your throat, raw and high and completely involuntary. 

“That’s it… good girl… fuck, that’s so hot. You’re so good for me.”

Your walls clench around his fingers like a vice, pulsing so violently it almost hurts. He groans low against your ear, gripping your wrists tighter behind you, holding you steady while you thrash against him, shaking and twitching through it.

“Goddamn,” he breathes, voice reverent. “Look at you…”

You’re panting, trembling, your body sagging against him as your orgasm crests and crashes. Your knees start to give, and Hoodie finally releases your wrists, catching you before you can drop. His arms wrap around you, one hand slipping to your front again to gently cup between your thighs, rubbing softly as the aftershocks leave you whimpering.

“Shhh… easy now,” he whispers. “I got you. It’s over. You did so good.”

His nose nuzzles against your temple. His other hand lifts to brush the hair back from your face as you catch your breath.

You melt back into him, boneless and flushed and soaking wet—in more ways than one.

“You okay?” he asks again, quieter this time.

You nod weakly, voice hoarse. “Yeah. Jesus.”

He presses a soft kiss to your shoulder. “Let’s get you clean. Then I’ll carry you to bed.”

His fingers leave you slowly, the tight ring of muscle clamping as you gush around him, and you can feel your body flutter around the absence, still sensitive, still twitching. But now it’s gentle again—his touches soft, calming. And the steady weight of him holding you upright, even when you can’t stand.

The water runs warm over your skin, steam curling lazily around your shoulders as you lean your back into Hoodie’s chest, heart still hammering beneath your ribs. Your thighs twitch now and then with the aftershocks, but his arms are steady around you—one curled low around your waist, the other reaching for the washcloth.

You don’t even flinch when he starts cleaning you up.

He does it slowly, gently—as if he’s smoothing away every trembling breath you let out. Between your thighs, the soft cloth catches the slick remnants of your release, and he’s careful. Tender. Like it’s important to him you know you’re not just some frayed thing he unraveled for fun.

He tilts your chin up with two fingers and kisses you once, slow and warm, then returns to washing you, rinsing off the sweat and tension like he can scrub away everything that made your week hard.

“You good?” he asks quietly after a while.

You nod, leaning your head back on his shoulder. “Yeah. I think I just melted a little.”

He chuckles low. “That was the goal.”

You roll your eyes, smile soft. “You’re smug.”

“Only when I earn it.”

You hum in response, watching the water swirl around your feet. It’s quiet for a few seconds. The kind of silence that feels like the weight has been lifted from your chest. You take a long breath in—and for the first time in days, your muscles don’t resist.

Your voice comes softer now. “I don’t feel as tense anymore.”

“Because I fucked the stress out of you?” he deadpans against your ear, the smirk in his voice unmistakable.

You reach behind you and swat his hip.

“No,” you say, turning your head slightly. “Because you’re here.”

That gets him.

You can see his face, but Hoodie has always been more of a body language guy—the way his arms tighten around you, the way his chin dips slightly to rest on your shoulder—yeah, you got him.

“I missed you,” you add. “Even your dumb sarcasm.”

“I missed you more,” he says without hesitation. “And I hate everything, so that’s saying a lot.”

You huff out a laugh and press a kiss to the edge of his jaw. “Come on. Let’s rinse off so we don’t turn into raisins.”

He grumbles but helps you finish washing the rest of your body, then lets you return the favor—dragging the cloth over his chest, down his arms, across the curve of his hipbone. You take your time, watching the way his muscles twitch beneath your touch, the way he bites back little groans when your fingers wander too low for too long.

“Careful,” he warns under his breath as you rake your nails over his abdomen. “You’re gonna restart something you just recovered from.”

You give him a slow smirk. “I’m just learning the terrain, soldier.”

He stares at you for a long second, then turns off the water without a word—stepping out first, grabbing two towels and handing you one. You both dry off, sharing lazy touches and lingering glances in the soft bathroom light. 

You glance at him in the reflection.

Still bare, hair damp, mask long gone—Hoodie looks at you like he’s trying to memorize the curve of your spine, the way your expression softens when you catch him staring.

“What?” you ask, toweling off your arms.

He just shrugs, eyes warm. “You look like you again.”

Your hands slow. “Was I looking like someone else?”

“No,” he says, stepping closer, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Just… you look lighter.”

You smile, small and sincere.

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to pad into the bedroom, bodies warm and lazy from the shower. You throw on one of his old black shirts, oversized and soft, and he tosses on some sweatpants he left here last time, towel-drying his hair half-heartedly before flopping onto the mattress.

You climb in beside him, crawling over his chest until you’re straddling his hips.

He raises a brow. “Starting round two?”

You grin and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Not yet. Just getting in position for when I do.”

He groans, palm dragging over his face. “Jesus. You were just screaming five minutes ago.”

“And now I’m thriving.” You dip down and murmur against his ear, “Next time, I’m gonna make you squirm.”

His hands find your thighs, squeezing once. “Promises, promises.”

You settle in beside him, curling against his side, the both of you tangled under the covers, body to body and nothing between. It’s the kind of peace that only comes after wreckage—the kind that settles in your bones and refuses to let go.

And as you close your eyes, cheek pressed to his chest, you realize something.

You’re not thinking about work. You’re not thinking about deadlines. You’re not thinking about anything but the weight of his hand on your hip and the sound of his breathing. You’re not just less stressed.

You’re home, and falling asleep easily for the first time in days.

This was an anonymous request!

Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated!

๑ back to my masterlists

── .✦ rainrot4me2025, all rights reserved. ꩜ .ᐟ

[botanicsoul]

Behind the Screen

Pro Hero | Bakugou Katsuki x (fem) Blogger Reader | Aged Up

Part 2 -> Here

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧. 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

—

You post it as a joke. Kind of.

It’s late, and you’re curled up in bed with your fanfic draft open and half a Twix in your mouth. Your followers are going wild in the replies, and you’re riding the high of being the “unofficial Dynamight smut queen” of the timeline. You’ve been known for your over-the-top thirst tweets, but this one? This one’s feral.

—

@/blastyourbackout

“Dynamight wouldn’t even take the suit off. He’d fuck you with the gauntlets still on, breathing heavy through gritted teeth, all ‘Shut up and take it—this is what you wanted, right?’”

—

You toss your phone. That’s enough unhinged behavior for the night. Until the morning comes—and you wake up to hell.

Your tweet is trending. His name is trending. People are tagging him.

—

“this is NASTY and i love it.”

“@Dynamightofficial please read this and confirm or deny.”

“If Dynamight didn’t do this, I’d be shocked.”

“SOMEONE CHECK ON HIM”

“@Dynamightofficial thoughts??”

Then it happens.

—

@Dynamightofficial :

“Who tf is behind this account.”

“If you’re gonna talk like that, be brave enough to show your face.”

You nearly throw up. Your DMs? Melted. And sitting right at the top.

[Private Message – @Dynamightofficial]

“You write a lotta shit for someone who hides behind a screen.”

“You really think I’d leave the fuckin’ suit on?”

“Show me your face if you’re gonna say it like you know me.”

Your heart is pounding. And you shouldn’t. But you do. You send a selfie. Just a soft one. T-shirt, messy hair, bare face. You look like someone who absolutely shouldn’t be writing the filth he just read.

There’s a long pause.

He starts to finally type:

“…fuck.”

“You’re cute.”

“like super fuckin’ cute”

“You don’t look like someone who says I’d blow your back out against a fuckin’ window.”

You:

“I mean… would you?”

Him:

“You really wanna know?”

“You clearly think you know it all, writing the way you do.”

“So what—wanna let me show you what it’s really like?”

You pause. Breathless. Fingers trembling.

“Yes.”

⸻

A few days later, the meet-up actually happened.

You gave him your address—half-joking, half-panicking when he immediately replied with a thumbs up and a “Bet.”

You spent the next two days spiraling.

Cleaned every inch of your apartment. Shaved, exfoliated, moisturized places you didn’t even know needed it. Practiced how you’d open the door without looking like you were seconds from passing out. Told yourself it was just casual, just fun, just… whatever. you totally weren’t about to get fucked dumb by your fav pro that you write smut about.

Except it wasn’t. Because now. He’s at your door.

And he’s in the fucking suit.

Mask off. Jaw set. Gloves still on. That big, broad chest rising and falling.

Black and orange, thick with tension and sweat and that sharp smoky scent that clings to him after a patrol. His hair’s a mess. One gauntlet is attached, the other dangling from his hip. And he’s just standing there—broad, massive, silent—like he owns the whole building.

You freeze. Your heart slams.

“…Hi,” you manage to say.

His eyes drag over you—down your legs, over the shorts you probably could’ve made smaller and the tank top that wasn’t technically meant to be seductive, but absolutely became that under stress.

“Damn,” he mutters. “You look even better when you’re nervous.”

You try to laugh but it comes out breathless. “You really wore the suit?”

“uuuh yeah? did you think I was gonna show up here in a hoodie after all the shit you wrote about this thing?” He steps closer. “Thought I’d let you see it up close before I ruined your sheets.”

Your knees go weak.

You try to respond—something witty, something smug—but your words get caught somewhere between your throat and the fact that he’s already inside. Pushing the door shut behind him. Glancing around like he’s checking for cameras, or exits, or maybe just where he’s gonna lay you out first.

“You ready?” he asks, voice low. Rough. Already undoing the gauntlet from his wrist with one hand, tossing it aside.

You nod, dazed. “Yeah.”

He smirks—steps in closer until you’re backed up against the nearest wall, breath catching.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Because I’ve been losing sleep over the way you said I’d fuck you in this suit.”

You stare up at him, completely wrecked just by his presence, and whisper, “Was I right about some of this stuff I wrote?”

He dips his head down, lips brushing yours—barely.

“I’m here to fact check it.” he growls.

You shudder.

He pulls back just enough to smirk, eyes dragging down your body like he’s mentally ripping off every layer.

He hasn’t even touched you properly yet—but your back’s against your door, your legs are trembling, and Bakugou’s towering over you like he’s already won.

“That tweet got me thinkin’ about you all fuckin’ day, baby. Let’s see if you write better when you’re sore.”

His hero suit creaks with every breath. Heavy-duty gauntlets still locked around his wrists. His undersuit clings to him, black and orange and unforgiving across his chest, his thighs—everything.

“You scared?” he asks, voice low. His hand comes up—gloved fingers trailing under your jaw, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Or just nervous I’m actually gonna live up to that filthy little imagination of yours?”

Your breath catches.

“…both.”

He smirks. Then his mouth is on yours.

It’s not sweet. It’s not careful. It’s everything you wrote about—demanding, rough, obsessed. He kisses like a man starved. Like he’s been reading your tweets on loop.

And god, when his hand slides down your waist—those big gloved fingers gripping your ass, hoisting you up—your back hits the wall and you let out a soft, stunned whimper.

“That the sound you make when you’re not behind a screen?” he growls, lips dragging along your neck. “Fuckin’ hell, you’re even better in person.”

You try to answer, but he’s already slipping one hand between your thighs, dragging his knuckles over your heat—still covered by your shorts.

“Wrote that I’d be mean with it,” he murmurs. “That I’d tease you. Make you beg.”

His gloved finger presses just right over the damp spot in your underwear.

“So beg.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders. You feel insane.

“P-Please.”

He groans. “That all I get after all those filthy paragraphs?”

“Dynamight—”

His eyes flash. “Katsuki.”

You pant, skin burning.

“Please, Katsuki.”

“Atta fuckin’ girl.”

He carries you to your room practically kicking the damn door down. Your back hits the mattress, but he doesn’t follow right away. He stands at the edge of the bed, breathing heavy, gaze dark and hungry.

His suit’s half-unzipped now—exposing his chest, glistening with sweat and tension—but everything else stays on. That thick black material clings to his arms and thighs like sin. The gauntlets drop to the floor with a heavy thud, but the gloves? Still on. And he flexes his fingers slow—just to watch you squirm.

“You’re fuckin’ dangerous,” he mutters, eyes dragging over your body like he’s trying to memorize it. “Sittin’ there on your little blog, makin’ people think you’ve got me figured out.”

Your thighs squeeze together. He notices. Smirks. “Lemme show you how right you were.”

He crawls over you like a storm. Muscles shifting under his suit, voice dipping low, filthy, as he shoves your shirt up, lips ghosting over your stomach.

You arch when his teeth graze your hip. “Katsuki—”

“That’s right, baby,” he mutters, pulling your shorts off slow. “Say my name when you write about this later too.”

He pushes your thighs open, and he goes down. Tongue eager. Desperate. He eats you out like he’s proving a point—like he’s got something to prove to every single tweet you’ve ever posted. Groaning into you, gripping your thighs tight like he wants to leave handprints. You’re moaning, shaking, gripping the sheets, and he’s just eating it up—literally.

He comes up with his mouth slick and eyes wild. “Not even close to done with you.” And he isn’t.

He flips you. Presses you into the mattress. One hand on your hip, the other grabbing your wrist and dragging it up the bed.

“Hold that headboard, princess.” You feel him line up—still in the damn suit—and your breath catches as he sinks in.

Slow. Deep. Bruising.

“Fuck,” he hisses, jaw clenched. “You feel like I imagined. So fuckin’ tight, so wet—shit.”

You cry out. He starts moving. Harder. Deeper.

Every stroke is a claim. His hand slides down your back, then back up to wrap around your throat—not choking, just holding. Just letting you feel it.

“Write about this next time” he growls into your ear. “Write about about me makin’ you cum multiple fuckin’ times.”

You whimper—high, breathy, wrecked.

“That’s right. Take it. You wanted this.”

“I did,” you gasp. “I wanted you—”

“You fuckin’ got me now.”

When you fall apart—completely, wildly, back-arching and moaning his name like a prayer—he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even slow.

Because he’s obsessed now. Addicted.

Your thighs are trembling. Your voice is hoarse. Your sheets are a mess—twisted, damp, clinging to your skin like the heat of him isn’t already enough.

He’s still going.

“One more,” he grits out, thrusts snapping into you slow and deep. “C’mon, baby—just one more for me.”

You’re barely hanging on—nails dragging helplessly down his back, vision blurry with overstimulation, body trembling under him as he rocks into you, all tight grunts and low, broken groans.

“You’re fuckin’ perfect,” he pants, sweat dripping down his temples. “Takin’ me so good—fuck—you feel like you were made for me.”

You moan, shattered.

He growls, fucks you harder, chasing his release like a wildfire. And when he finally gets there—when you clench around him, gasping out his name in a breathless sob— He snaps.

“Knew it,” he groans, hips stuttering. “Knew I’d fill this pussy the second I saw you.” oh, and he does. Deep. Warm. Heavy. Flooding you.

He keeps moving—shallow, deep rolls—just to push it in. Just to feel it drip. Just to make it last. His head drops to your shoulder, lips brushing your skin.

You barely register him pulling out until you feel it—messy, hot, dripping down your thighs.

“fuuuck you’re beautiful” he murmurs smirking down at you. Wrecked, ruined, glowing. He lays down beside you, just looking at you like you were a fucking trophy.

He then reaches for his phone.

—

[New Tweet – @Dynamightofficial]

“Just fact-checked one of your little fantasy tweets. 11/10 accuracy. Would reread. Would re-enact.”

—

You see what’s he doing and it snaps you out your daze, your eyes go wide. “You didn’t—!”

“Too late,” he shrugs. “Let ‘em guess which one it was.”

You grabbed your phone just as quick to quote it.

—

[New Tweet – @blastyourbackout]

“Just know the gloves stayed on.”

—

The internet breaks.

You can barely feel your legs.

And Katsuki Bakugou? THE pro hero Dynamight?

He’s already rolling over, tugging you to his chest, muttering in your ear, “Hope you’re not tired, princess. I’ve got a lot more tweets to prove right.”

[rosegolden13]

Princess Treatment w/ John Price

His workaholic habits do not stop after he leaves base to come home to you...

We already know he's opening up every damn door for you. He has the magical skill of knowing when doors need a push or a pull so he never fails to laugh when you pull a push door. "Tha's why you shoulda left it to me, love. Stubborn thing, you are." He'll reach over your head to push the door open for you, plopping a kiss to your hair while he does.

His masculinity does not get in the way of holding your purse for you whenever you're out together, his big bear hands wrapped around the handle of your little black purse.

He refuses to let you carry your own luggage, doesn't care if it takes him multiple trips to get both of your bags into the hotel or rental house. He'll get all exasperated if you insist on helping. "You had a long drive. Lemme handle it, pet." (even though he's the one that drove...)

There's nothing he loves more than ordering for you at a restaurant. His voice is filled with an unreasonable amount of pride when he says "And for the missus..." before telling the waiter your order.

Speaking of food, if you ever eat anything that needs cutting or even doctoring up, expect him to jump in. "Now, now, doll, you know tha's my job." He'll tsk and gently take the knife from you to cut your steak into bitesize pieces or to butter your roll. Yes, he will go as far as to bring the fork up to your lips and feed you if you don't put up a fuss.

He will absolutely pay for your manicure and then coo when you offer him your hand to show off your new nails. "Real pretty, love... Don't go chippin' 'em now. Come sit."

Price always sets up a nice place for you on the couch or bed, blanket at the ready and pillows right where you like them. "Come on now, Mrs. Price." He'll pat the spot next to him like one would for a dog. Of course, he likes it best when he can be your pillow and personal heater (that man is always warm, always) but sometimes he's got to find a way to coax his little love into his arms and away from chores.

Naturally, he will swat your hands away when you bend down to tug on your heels or tie your sneakers. He'll crouch down to place your foot on his bent knee, patting your calf firmly and leaning in to press a kiss to your ankle once he's done.

If you nick yourself while shaving, he'll level you with a disapproving stare and then insist that he do it for you next time. After all, he has plenty of experience with keeping his facial hair so tidy. "Can't have my woman hurtin' herself, now can I?" You bet your bottom dollar he's using his fancy razors and shaving creams on you, extra delicate to make sure he doesn't mar your skin.

He's terrified to smoke around you after you coughed one (1) time and now he only will take his cigars out on the back porch or in his office with the window open. If you come in, he'll snuff it out asap and usher you out of the room, shushing your protests.

I'll probably eventually add a part two cuz soft Price is everything to me hehe... Can you tell my standards are ridiculously high?? Also, does anyone have an accent writing guide for TF-141?? I am painfully American.