#but honestly it's like they are making it hard on purpose i had hoped i was done with all of this anxiety and worry about college | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kingofbodyrolls · 2 months

Text

Say I Do (m) | jjk

Summary: you and Jungkook tease each other at your wedding reception.

Pairing: jungkook x female reader (no Y/N and unnamed)

AUs: non-idol!au, wedding!au

Genres: smut– like it’s just smut, nothing else 🤣

Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

Word count: 5,2k

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Warnings/tag: unprotected sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, public sex, handjob, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, slightly rough sex, choking, biting, spitting, ass grabbing, impreg kink, degrading names (whore used once).

Author’s note: I made this for my lovely friend Lua (@letjungcoook7)!!!! SURPRISE!!!! I hope you like it! I was inspired to make this because of our chat, and I just want to say that you are so fucking lovely, sweet and kind 💖 I really hope this isn’t too much, but I just had too 🥹 I really wanted to make it dirty, but it ended up being more sweet instead, I’m sorry! I love talking to you and I just wanted to let you know that I adore and treasure you 😘

Honestly Lua, I just wrote this to tell you how beautiful you are– mind, body and soul. Thank you Lua, I love ya 💜

This is just something very short while I work on ‘My Heart’s Home’. But I hope you like it, and please let me know what you think: my inbox is always open, and I love to hear from you, even a reblog/comment will put a big smile on my face 💜

Also!!! This is written from Jungkook’s POV (well I tried, lol). And normally I don’t describe the reader/MC, but she does have a tiny bit description in this, but I still feel it’s vague enough. But if that isn’t your thing, it’s completely fine 🙂 This is not proofread (because I’m too lazy for that right now).

This has nothing to do with my other fic 'say that again (I dare you)', but if you want to read that I'm not opposed (it's also a jjk fic) ✨

Fancy reading on AO3? 😉

Rising gracefully to his feet, Taehyung's infectious enthusiasm fills the room as he declares, “I propose a toast!” His radiant smile sweeps over the myriad of guests you meticulously invited to your wedding—more than a hundred souls sharing in the joy of your love story.

As he prepares to speak, Jungkook can't help but marvel at the grandeur of the occasion. Despite his personal inclination towards a more intimate celebration, he wouldn't dream of denying you this moment, surrounded by the warmth of friends and family who have come together to witness the union of two hearts.

Despite Taehyung's earnest attempt to capture Jungkook's attention with a throat-clearing preamble, Jungkook finds himself inexplicably entranced elsewhere. Even in the midst of one of his closest friends delivering a heartfelt wedding speech—something he should be wholeheartedly absorbing—but it’s hard. As hard as his dick that you’re palming over his dress pants.

The tantalizing dance of your hand sends ripples of pleasure through him, an intoxicating distraction that eclipses all other thoughts. It's an artful symphony of sensation, each movement crafting a masterpiece of desire within him. The struggle to concentrate on anything else becomes an exhilarating battle. Fuck.

You, the mischievous enchantress, wield your allure like a potent spell.

A tantalizing awareness of your own danger courses through your veins, and you wield it with an expert finesse. Every knowing glance, every sly smile, is a calculated move in the game you effortlessly play. You've mastered the art of ensnaring him, wrapping him around your finger with a magnetic force that compels him to dance to your whims. It's a dangerous dance, but he willingly succumbs to the intoxication of your charm, embracing the thrill as much as he cherishes the intoxicating love he feels for you.

What the fuck is Taehyung saying?

Taehyung’s words dissolve into a meaningless buzz, drowned out by the illicit symphony you're orchestrating beneath the table. The audacious zipper sliding down and the tantalizing exploration of your hand over the fabric of his boxer briefs command all of Jungkook's attention.

Profanity trembles on the edge of his tongue, but it's lost in the overwhelming sensation that eclipses any coherent thought. Your stealthy touch renders him blissfully oblivious to everything else unfolding around him.

Suppressing a low, guttural sound, he clenches his teeth, using every ounce of willpower to stifle the moan building in his throat. As desire courses through him like a wildfire, he willingly parts his legs, a silent invitation for you to explore more boldly, granting ample space for the electrifying touch of your hand over the hardened length of his cock.

He marvels at your audacity, finding it both exhilarating and daring that you'd embark on such a provocative escapade during your wedding reception. Yet, deep down, he acknowledges that it's a reflection of the wild spirit that has always defined your relationship. It's a shared affinity for dancing on the edge, reveling in the allure of danger, and delighting in the thrill of engaging in activities that should, by all accounts, remain private. It's a facet of your relationship that has always been magnetic, drawing you both into a world where the risk of being caught only adds to the intoxicating excitement.

In the blink of an eye, your hand deftly maneuvers beneath the fabric of his boxers, sending a shiver down his spine. A hiss escapes his lips as your long, slender fingers confidently envelop his cock. The warmth of your touch is both a balm and an inferno, and he instinctively tilts his head back in the chair, a silent plea for discretion.

As he surrenders to the delicious sensation, he can't help but cast a furtive glance around, fervently hoping that the clandestine ballet unfolding beneath the table remains a tantalizing secret shared only between you.

Despite the uproarious laughter echoing through the room in response to Taehyung's speech, Jungkook remains oblivious to its contents, ensnared the choreography of your hand beneath the table.

The mirthful ambiance only fuels his curiosity, surmising that Taehyung must have delivered a punchline or shared a humorous anecdote. Meanwhile, beneath the table's concealment, your hand skillfully traces a tantalizing path along his hardened cock, drawing a hushed hiss from Jungkook's lips.

With a steely resolve, he masks any trace of emotion, locking his features in a stoic facade and maintaining an impressive silence. His determined effort is not just to conceal the electrifying sensations your actions are evoking, but also to safeguard the clandestine intimacy you both share from the prying eyes of the unsuspecting guests.

Every fiber of his being is a coiled spring, resisting the urge to yield to the pleasure that threatens to unravel beneath the veneer of his restrained expression.

As his gaze shifts towards you, he's met with an unexpected sight—there you sit, an image of demure elegance in your exquisite white gown.

The fabric caresses your curves in all the right places, accentuating the allure of your figure. The daringly low neckline teases a glimpse of the captivating silhouette of your bosom, leaving him momentarily breathless. The off-the-shoulder design unveils a generous expanse of your soft, tender skin, a tantalizing sight that aligns perfectly with his preferences.

Despite the provocative allure of your attire, your outward appearance betrays no hint of the illicit affair transpiring beneath the table. If he didn't intimately know the secret you were concealing—your hand discreetly exploring the realm beneath his pants—he'd be fooled by the serene facade you present, seemingly absorbed in the captivating rhythm of Taehyung's speech.

In a silent plea of gratitude, Jungkook revels in the fact that the attention of the guests is fixed on Taehyung's speech, sparing him the scrutiny of prying eyes.

Little do they know, the real spectacle unfolds beneath the table, where your touch becomes an exquisite torment.

Every movement of your hand is a tantalizing dance, a blend of ecstasy and torture that threatens to unravel him. With a teasing finesse, your soft fingers caress his frenulum, tracing a path towards the depths of pleasure. The deliberate slide over his slit elicits a shiver of pure ecstasy, leaving Jungkook teetering on the precipice of desire that you expertly navigate.

Your hand envelops him, a cocoon of warmth that intensifies with each skillful stroke. The pleasure coursing through him is undeniably exquisite, a testament to the mastery of your touch. Yet, a lingering awareness tugs at the edges of his consciousness—an impending climax that threatens to unravel the careful threads of restraint. The exquisite sensations you evoke compel him to desperately anchor his thoughts, to redirect the intoxicating focus from the captivating dance beneath the table to Taehyung's speech.

The challenge lies not just in resisting the magnetic pull of pleasure but in maintaining a semblance of composure, navigating the delicate balance between the ecstasy you're orchestrating beneath the table and the public façade demanded by the occasion.

“We’ve been friends for so long, how many years is it now, Gguk?” As Taehyung poses the question, a hushed anticipation envelops the room, and all eyes converge on Jungkook.

Fuck.

All eyes are on him and he can’t think— he’s mind is clouded with thoughts of you.

Taehyung– Fuck. How long have they been friends?

In a sudden stumble of recollection, he breathes out, “17 years,” the weight of the shared history resonating in the room. Yet, the gravity of the moment is unexpectedly intensified as you administer an assertive squeeze around cock. Fuck.

With a chuckle that slices through the tension, Taehyung seamlessly continues his discourse, effortlessly reclaiming the attention of the room and redirecting every wandering gaze back to him. A collective exhale echoes in Jungkook's mind, a silent gratitude for the timely diversion that spares the clandestine spectacle beneath the table from becoming the unwitting center of attention.

Relentless, you maintain the rhythm on his dick, displaying an unwavering determination that hints at an intention to push him to the brink, right under the unsuspecting gaze of the gathered guests.

As the divine caress of your hand propels him perilously close to the edge, a surge of urgency overtakes him. Desperate, he turns his face towards you, eyes silently pleading for respite, but your gaze remains steadfastly elsewhere.

Frustration wells within him, and he attempts to use his hands to guide yours away, only to find your grip tightening in response. The conflicting forces of pleasure and restraint collide within him, his muscles tensing as a hitch in his breath betrays the precarious precipice upon which he teeters.

Leaning in, you bring with you a halo of your natural sweet scent, an intoxicating allure that wraps around him, overwhelming his senses and leaving him slightly dizzy.

Your lips, soft and plush, delicately find his cheek in what appears to be a tender gesture to the outside world. To the unsuspecting onlookers, it's a simple, sweet kiss on the cheek.

Little do they know, in that same moment, your daring move involves not just the gentle press of your lips but the subtle exploration of your other hand slipping under his boxers to fondle his balls.

Fucking hell he’s gonna come.

Ecstasy courses through him like a wildfire, an imminent eruption fueled by the intoxicating cocktail of your skillful touch on his balls, warm breath teasing his ear, and the relentless grip on his pulsating desire. The threshold between pleasure and release narrows to a perilous edge, and he finds himself teetering on the brink, held captive by the maddening symphony of sensations you've orchestrated.

Despite his valiant efforts to remain attentive to his friend's speech, the sheer mastery of your pleasure-inducing touch proves insurmountable. Every deliberate stroke, every strategic squeeze of his balls, propels him further into the abyss of ecstasy. In a moment of surrender, he can no longer contain the torrent of desire, and ropes of his essence surge forth from his throbbing dick. His lips bear the weight of a stifled moan, as you keep stroking him through his orgasm.

Beside him, your chuckle is a symphony of sweetness interwoven with a hint of mischief, a melodic backdrop to the ongoing crescendo of pleasure you expertly administer through his orgasm.

As he traverses the realm of oversensitivity, a low, guttural grunt escapes him, drawing the curious gaze of Taehyung, engrossed in his ongoing speech. Though momentarily caught in a gaze of questioning inquiry, Taehyung forges ahead, resuming his speech with a peculiar stare, unwittingly oblivious to the spectacle unfolding beside him.

Thank fuck both of your parents aren’t seated right next to you. That would have been utterly mortifying and embarrassing.

With a deliberate finesse, you retract your hand from his crotch, guiding it gracefully over the table, where you nonchalantly employ a napkin to erase any lingering evidence. Seated there, you adopt an innocent facade, a picture of angelic composure that conceals the fact that, mere seconds ago, your hand delved into the forbidden realm beneath his pants.

With an audible exhale, he reaches for a napkin, hastily attending to the aftermath on his pants. The damage is fortunately minimal, thanks to your deft intervention that efficiently captured most of his release. Smart girl.

But a mischievous spark ignites in his eyes, a silent vow echoing beneath the surface - oh, he's going to get back at you for that, you little minx.

–

As the notes of the classic wedding waltz envelop the room, Jungkook marvels at the surreal reality—he gets to call you his wife now. The ethereal glow surrounding you transcends the physical, a radiant aura that has always defined you. Despite your humble protestations about your own beauty, he's captivated by the undeniable truth: you've always been, and continue to be, an enchanting vision. Countless times you've confessed to feeling otherwise, but in his eyes, you're a masterpiece. In this moment, as you dance together, you're not just a part of his world; you are his entire universe.

Gazing into the pools of your sweet, doe-like eyes, their exquisite almond shape captivates him, holding his attention in an unbreakable trance. He contemplates the nuances of your beauty, from the enchanting curvature of your slightly upturned nose to the endearing moments when he can't resist playfully poking it during your teasing exchanges. Every inch of you, in his eyes, is a masterpiece, and he pledges to vocalize his admiration every day, a ritual aimed at etching your beauty into your own consciousness.

He dreams that with each affirming word, he'll weave a tapestry of self-love around you, until the day you see yourself as he does—undeniably, breathtakingly beautiful.

As you dance, your eyes ablaze with an unmistakable love, he luxuriates in the intensity of your gaze. A daring current of desire propels his hand, gliding with deliberate intent down your body until it boldly claims your ass.

Uninhibited, he seizes it with audacious confidence, the bold move oblivious to the watchful eyes surrounding you. A soft, mischievous squeeze elicits a sweet chuckle from you, a harmonious note in the symphony of shared amusement that reverberates through the party, as the crowd collectively succumbs to the captivating allure of your uninhibited dance.

As the soft strains of the music envelop you both in a waltz, your heads draw nearer, the enchanting melody echoing the tender dance of your hearts. With the song nearing its end, he seizes the moment, leaning in intimately close to your ear. The hushed promise that escapes his lips carries a tantalizing undercurrent, his warm breath grazing your skin as he vows, “I'm going to get you back for earlier, babe.”

He senses the subtle shiver coursing through you as his touch lingers, a silent testament to the shared electricity between you. As the final notes of the song fade into the applause and cheers of the crowd, seizing the perfect moment, he leans in, embracing you in a sweet and passionate kiss.

As the rhythm of a more upbeat song invigorates the dance floor, he seizes the opportunity to whisk you away from the lively crowd. Amidst the pulsating beats and the vivacious laughter of the guests, he guides you outside the building, their merriment gradually fading into the background.

In the crisp night air, he asserts a sudden dominance, pressing you against the sturdy wall. His gaze, infused with an unmistakable hunger and need, locks onto your beautiful eyes, creating a magnetic tension that reverberates between you.

“You are a little minx, you know that?” His words, not laced with anger but rather a dangerous undercurrent of arousal, hang in the charged air. Your chuckle, a sweet symphony that further stirs the tempest within him, prompts a hiss as he succumbs to the magnetic pull, diving fervently into the captivating abyss of your mouth.

The kiss intensifies, a collision of passion that is both hard and rough, fueled by an undeniable need. In the urgency of the moment, he can't afford to wait, the impatience palpable in every fervent press of lips.

You envelop him in the embrace of your arms, fingers intertwining at the nape of his neck, while your gaze rises to meet his. In the depths of his eyes, once warm brown orbs now transformed into pools of near-black intensity, a reflection of the potent arousal coursing through his veins.

Your hand embarks on a daring journey, descending to the front of his pants once more, and the response is instantaneous – hardness reignites, a testament to the insatiable flame you kindle within him. Desire for you pulses like a constant current, an almost permanent state of arousal that defies logical explanation. Whatever enchantment you cast upon him, it's an irresistible force that weaves a tantalizing spell, leaving him perpetually captivated by the mystique of your touch.

Breaking away from the embrace of your soft lips, he wears a smirk laden with both warning and allure. “You're playing with fire, babe,” he remarks, the subtle edge in his voice echoing the intoxicating dance of danger and desire that swirls between you.

In a hushed whisper that flutters against your ear, he breathes, “You've been a naughty girl.”

The words, laden with an undercurrent of sultry authority, send a shiver down your spine, awakening a cascade of tingles that traverse the landscape of your entire body.

Descending to the delicate expanse of your neck, he peppers it with soft, almost teasing kisses, each touch a prelude to the symphony of sensations. Then, in an abrupt shift from gentle caresses, he bites down, coaxing from you a loud moan that resonates through the air—an intoxicating sound that echoes in the depths of his desire, a melody he'll never tire of hearing.

Continuing his explorative journey, he ventures further south, his lips descending to the curve of your breasts. With a deliberate tenderness, he places a kiss atop the soft expanse of your tender tits.

Gracefully sinking to his knees, he gazes up at you with a mischievous smirk, the air thick with a heady mixture of desire and anticipation. His tongue darts out, grazing his lips in a provocative dance of anticipation, signaling the imminent exploration of pleasures yet to unfold.

With an assertive grip, he seizes the front of your dress, drawing it away in a swift, purposeful motion. Despite the abundance of fabric, he deftly bunches it up with ease. “Hold your dress, please,” he directs, handing you the end of the gathered fabric.

“Hmm. Nice lace stockings, and that girdle—what are you doing to me?” he murmurs, his voice a tantalizing blend of desire and fascination. His gaze lingers appreciatively on your beautiful thighs encased in nude stockings adorned with lace at the top, fastened to a concealed girdle on your waist.

His eyes widen with a mix of surprise and arousal as they land on your wet and glistening pussy, the evidence of desire trickling down your thigh. “Oh my god. You're not wearing panties?” he breathes out, his voice carrying the weight of both revelation and anticipation. A subtle lick of his lips betrays the intensity of his reaction.

A playful chuckle escapes your lips as you hover above him, and without a moment's hesitation, he immerses himself in the intoxicating warmth of your desire. His lips eagerly find their destination, tracing a decadent path from the delicate folds to the pulsating essence of your clit.

The sensation ripples through your body, igniting a shiver that becomes an involuntary response to the electrifying dance between tongues, pleasure, and the shared yearning that binds you together.

He embarks on a tantalizing journey of tongue and suction, starting with teasing caresses that send tremors of anticipation through your body. His hands, strong and purposeful, find purchase on your thighs, holding you in a firm grip as he orchestrates a symphony of pleasure with his skillful tongue, creating an intoxicating dance that blurs the lines between sensation and desire.

A throaty moan escapes your lips as his nose delicately brushes against your pulsating cl*t, his tongue delving as deep as its voracious hunger allows. The exquisite sensation of his exploration elicits an involuntary clenching around him, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

Your thighs, unable to withstand the intensity, succumb to a tremor, trembling beneath the intoxicating caress of pleasure that consumes you.

His dexterous fingers ascend to your throbbing clit, and with a skillful touch, he sets in motion a rapid dance of pleasure, causing your entire body to quiver with newfound intensity. The quickened rhythm of your breath becomes a symphony of desire, a telltale sign for him that you're teetering on the precipice of ecstasy.

Eager to reciprocate the pleasure you bestowed upon him within the confines of the reception, he fervently laps at your tender folds. Simultaneously, his fingers engage in a deft dance around your throbbing clit, orchestrating a symphony of sensations that echoes the pulsating rhythm of desire between you.

With the harmonious fusion of his skilled tongue and nimble fingers, he orchestrates the unraveling of your senses. As ecstasy courses through you, your body convulses in euphoria, your walls clenching around his tongue, and the pulsating rhythm of your clit intensifying under the spell of his fingers.

Waves of pleasure surge through you, causing your body to quake, and in the throes of ecstasy, you release a high-pitched, strained moan that bears his name—an intimate symphony of pleasure that lingers in the air.

Breathless and overwhelmed, you gasp out his name, a plea woven into the words, “Fuck, Jungkook. I can't stand up anymore.” As he gracefully withdraws from your core, his gaze rises to meet yours, locking in a shared moment of intensity.

He chuckles, the rich timbre of his laughter lingering in the charged air. “I know, babe. Do you want me to fuck you against the wall?”

You draw in a sharp breath, and he keenly observes the subtle clench of your hand, the fabric of the dress tightly gathered within your grasp.

“Fuck yeah,” An unbridled affirmation escapes your lips, a primal declaration of desire. As he rises to his feet, a surge of urgency propels him to capture your mouth in a hungry kiss. The taste of your own release lingers on his lips, creating an intimate communion of shared pleasure that binds you together in the aftermath of passion.

As he engulfs you in a fervent kiss, the symphony of desire playing out between you, his hands deftly navigate the zipper of his dress pants. With a purposeful movement, he unveils his throbbing cock, stroking it in rhythmic cadence.

His hands, driven by a primal urgency, seek out the contours of your a*s with a possessive intent. “Jump up, babe,” he commands, the resonance of his voice weaving a spell of anticipation. As you obediently jump, he effortlessly lifts you, cocooning you against the wall.

In a brief struggle against the bulk of your dress, both of you grapple with the fabric, pushing it away from the front of your entwined bodies. A shared chuckle hangs in the air, a lighthearted interlude in the midst of fervor. But as the fabric yields to your efforts, Jungkook seizes the opportunity, moving in with an insatiable hunger to bite at your neck once more.

With a sultry whisper, he breathes, “I'm gonna fuck a baby into you, would you like that, hmm?”

The words, pregnant with promise, glide against your ear, and the responsive clench of your legs around his waist speaks volumes. A knowing chuckle escapes him as you endeavor to pull him even closer, the shared desire resonating between you in the charged space.

“Please,” your plea, a desperate yet fervent entreaty, escapes your lips, a poignant melody of desire that resonates in the charged air. The subtle smirk that graces his lips is both a testament to your undeniable need for him and an acknowledgment of the power he holds over your cravings.

With a deliberate touch, he locates his throbbing cock with one hand and skillfully aligns it with your dripping entrance. The tantalizing dance begins as he teases your slick folds with the head of his pulsating dick, creating an electrifying friction that amplifies the anticipation between you two.

“Gguk, please,” you plead with a mixture of desire and frustration, your voice echoing the urgent need for him to bridge the gap between anticipation and fulfillment. However, he remains steadfast, skillfully teasing your slick folds without granting the entry your body craves.

With a desperate plea escaping your lips once more, he finally relents. The moment stretches with anticipation before he forcefully thrusts his thick cock into your eager pussy. The collision is met with an audible impact as your back forcefully meets the wall.

He forgoes the customary pause for adjustment, intuitively aware that you relish the exquisite stretch when he enters you so abruptly. Without hesitation, he plunges deep into your core, reaching the furthest recesses, his thick length grazing against your cervix.

“You’re so big, the stretch feels so good!”

You gasp breathlessly against his body, overwhelmed by the sheer size of him. The intoxicating stretch sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, a visceral reminder of the intensity between you two. Determined to fully immerse yourself in the sensation, you pant against him, actively striving to ride the wave of pleasure, desperate to fuck yourself on him, the relentless pursuit of ecstasy evident in every ardent movement.

He establishes a relentless rhythm, driving into you with a force that resonates against the unyielding wall of the building. The symphony of your combined panting echoes in the air, a melodic accompaniment to the unbridled passion unfolding. Jungkook, captivated by the primal symphony, savors every delightful noise escaping your lips—a harmonious blend of desire and surrender, heightening the intensity of the fervent connection shared between you.

As he thrusts into you, each powerful motion striking your cervix, he elevates the intensity by trailing one hand up to your neck. With a gentle yet possessive touch, he wraps his fingers around your throat.

He knows you like it dirty and rough, and fuck he does too.

His taunting words, laced with a playful yet provocative tone, cut through the charged air. “Did you enjoy the little game with your fingers down my pants while Tae was making his speech?” The rhetorical question hangs between you, a teasing challenge that elicits a subtle clenching reaction around him.

In a sultry revelation, he whispers, “'Next to your bridesmaid and your parents. You naughty girl.” The hand steadying against the wall takes a firm hold of your ass, squeezing the soft flesh with deliberate intent. A resonant moan of pleasure escapes your lips, harmonizing with the rhythmic cadence of his thrusts as he skillfully targets your sweet spot.

“So naughty,” he breathes, punctuating each fervent thrust with a rhythmic intensity that sends shivers down your spine. “You enjoy getting off in front of your friends, huh?” His words, infused with a seductive blend of desire and provocation, become a tantalizing soundtrack to the relentless grind of his dick into you.

“And getting me off too? Whore,” he seethes into your ear, the heated accusation leaving a scorching trail of desire in its wake. Your response, a shiver against his body, fuels the intensity of the moment.

As he continues to fuck you with an unrestrained force, your breasts bounce in a mesmerizing rhythm that captivates him. So fucking perfect.

“Stick your tongue out,” he commands, his eyes intently fixed on you as you obediently roll out your tongue, anticipating the act you relish. The charged moment lingers, pregnant with expectation. With a deliberate move, he spits on your waiting tongue, and you, the embodiment of submission, dutifully swallow it.

Damn it, he knows he won't last much longer if he continues to be entranced by the rhythmic bounce of your enticing breasts—they possess an almost hypnotic allure over him. And that tongue of yours, oh, it's pure seduction.

“And you can't even wait until we reach our hotel suite to be fucked. So fucking needy, and I love it,” he declares, a blend of admiration and desire lacing his words. The deliberate clench of his fingers around your throat follows, a subtle yet potent assertion of control. His gaze remains fixed on your eyes, watching with a predatory intensity as they dilate even more.

As he tightens his grip, the sensation of his fingers constricting around your throat elicits a primal response—your walls clenching around his cock. The synchronized symphony of pleasure and control intertwines, and a guttural groan escapes him, an audible testament to the ecstasy coursing through his veins.

Driven by an insatiable desire, he redoubles his efforts to fuck you even deeper.

“My filthy wife,” he pants into your ear, the possessive term dripping with desire, a declaration that ignites a primal response within you. The sultry proclamation elicits a moan of his name from your lips, a vocal affirmation of the all-encompassing pleasure coursing through your body. His acute awareness of your nearing climax manifests in the rhythmic clenching around his dick, a tangible sign of the intimate dance between you two.

“Fuck, Gguk. I'm so close again. Fuck!” you pant fervently against the curve of his neck, the words laced with desperation and desire. He senses the mounting intensity in your voice, a symphony of passion reaching its crescendo.

Yet, he's attuned to the nuances, recognizing the subtle signs that your body, though on the brink of ecstasy, bears the weight of fatigue, having navigated the day in those tantalizing heels.

“You crave an audience, don't you? Want people to watch you, to hear you,” he moans into your ear, the words a sultry declaration that fans the flames of desire between you two. The acknowledgment of your shared exhibitionist desires ignites a fresh surge of pleasure, prompting an instinctive clench around him.

“Then scream my name, let everyone in the damn party know how damn good I'm fucking you,” he commands, the intensity of his voice sending shivers down your spine. As your walls clench with even greater fervor, pulsating around his dick, a wave of your liquid envelops him, transforming the intimate connection into a slippery dance of shared pleasure.

You unleash his name with a primal scream, the sheer force of your ecstasy reverberating through the open air outside. Your head drops against the curve of his neck, seeking refuge in the haven of his embrace as the waves of pleasure cascade over you.

He relentlessly thrusts his dick into you, the urgency palpable as he seeks his own release. “I'm gonna give you a baby, just like we've always dreamed of.”

“Ahhh, fuck, yes!” The exclamation bursts from your lips, a little too loud, as an uncontrollable surge of pleasure courses through you. Your teeth instinctively seek refuge on his shoulder, sinking into the firm flesh in an unbridled act of both ecstasy and restraint.

“Fuck, babe, I'm gonna come,” he confesses with a guttural moan, each subsequent thrust punctuated with the desperation of impending release. His rhythm stumbles, an involuntary response to the intensity building within him as he hurtles towards the precipice of his orgasm. And then it hits him.

The rhythmic bounce of your tits in his face, the soft and sweet scent that envelops him, and the melodic cadence of your voice—all converge to cast a spell on his senses. In the midst of your lovely moans, he succumbs to the intoxicating blend of sensations, unleashing a torrent of white-hot semen deep inside your spent pussy.

Panting and gasping, you both struggle for precious breaths, bodies slick with the sheen of sweat acquired in the throes of passion. Amidst the shared exhaustion, a mutual chuckle reverberates between you, an intimate exchange that encapsulates the postcoital atmosphere.

With your head nestled against his, you gaze into the depth of his eyes and confess, “I love you, Gukkie.” The words, tender and raw, bridge the physical intimacy you've just shared with the emotional vulnerability of a heartfelt declaration.

“I love you too. Every damn inch of you, you're so beautiful,” he pants, a declaration infused with both desire and admiration. As he smiles at you, the post-passion glow accentuates the sincerity in his eyes, turning the exchange into a powerful affirmation.

He'll never tire of professing his boundless love and adoration for you, vowing to weave those sentiments into the fabric of each passing day. The promise to remind you, with unwavering devotion, echoes in his commitment to articulate his love every damn day.

Please let me know if you liked it with a comment, reblog, and ask or whatever 💜

1K notes · View notes

nxuvillette · 5 months

Text

“THERE’S A FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING”

LOSING YOUR VIRGINITY W/ TR MEN

synopsis: your first time is supposed to be special and with the right person. luckily, you have an amazing boyfriend who is willing to make that dream come true.

❥- including : manjiro (mikey) sano, ken (draken) ryuguji, baji keisuke, hanma shuji

❥- note : first tr post 👍🏻 i’m kinda nervous because these were a little longer than my last post but i hope y’all enjoy <3. reblogs are appreciated!!

content warnings: nsfw [17+], fem!reader, ageless + blank blogs dni, virgin!reader, established relationship, virginity loss, praising, oral sex [f!receiving] (mikey , baji), fingering (draken , baji , hanma), finger sucking (baji), slight breeding kink (hanma), creampie (draken , hanma) use of pet names (baby , princess , babydoll , doll) multiple orgasms.

♡ MANJIRO (MIKEY) SANO

you and your boyfriend mikey had been together for a little while. he was nothing but kind to you, and you honestly trusted him more than anybody else that you knew. he was everything.

intimacy had never really crossed his mind before. sure, he knew sex was important, but it wasn’t something he necessarily saw as a necessity in your relationship. not to mention, you were a virgin. you knew things about sex and such, but you never acted upon those desires you had inside your head. mikey was also patient. he never really saw sex as something that had to be rushed.

eventually, you reached that point after your one year anniversary that you were ready to lose it to him.

mikey honestly couldn’t believe that he did so little to you, yet you were a dripping mess when he took your panties off. he believed if you weren’t a virgin he wouldn’t even need to do foreplay to make you feel good, but he wanted to make sure you were prepped and you got to experience a great first time with him.

his favorite part was watching you squirm and tremble as his tongue dove into your sopping pussy. you hadn’t experienced such a feeling before and it was so thrilling. his tongue dragged along your slit and you almost came from him just eating you out. mikey couldn’t get enough of how delicious you tasted. he was in disbelief that someone as good as you was hiding like this for so long. it took everything in him to not keep eating you out.

when mikey finally entered you, you were both in complete heaven.

mikey was fairly long and his size made you gasp. he was reaching spots that made your mind feel dizzy. with all of the prep he did it also didn’t feel as bad as you thought it would have. he couldn’t believe you felt that amazing. your pussy was hugging his cock so nicely he thought he’d never be able to actually leave it. it was so warm and perfect.

once you gave him the go ahead to start moving, he made you feel like you were on some type of drug. the feelings you were having were so euphoric. you craved more. you knew he was being gentle on purpose, but you were beyond wanting that soft and delicate sex.

“m-more, mikey! i need more.. please..” you begged, gripping onto his forearms to show how desperate you were for more of him.

hearing those words snapped something inside mikey, and he ended up quickening his thrusts into you. the tip of his cock kissed your g-spot, making you see white stars in your vision and your body to completely ignite. “fuck.. don’t you worry, baby, i’ll give you all you’ll ever need..” he looked into your eyes, making you feel somewhat flustered at his words.

you were so close to reaching your high. you were practically clawing at mikey’s back and letting out the most lewd noises every time he rutted into you. this was the first time you had ever felt something so intense in your life. not even your own hand could make you cum that hard. it was like that white hot pleasure in your gut was finally unleashed and it was making you go crazy. mikey had also cum, too. he was in utter shock at how much he released onto your stomach, but he was more than satisfied with the results.

he pecked your lips, a smile writing itself on his features. “you were so great.. i’m so proud of you.”

♡ KEN (DRAKEN) RYUGUJI

dating toman’s number two was definitely one of the best decisions you had made in your entire life. draken was a better man than your own father and he did everything right in your relationship. he was practically someone who had zero flaws.

there were a few times you and draken had gotten close to actually having sex. sometimes you’d come over to his place and end up with his hands down your pants, but it never escalated to you both carrying out such an act with one another. draken was well aware that you were a virgin and he didn’t really have an issue with that. he wanted to be the one to make you feel good and he didn’t care how much time it took. unlike some men, he had genuine patience.

you and draken had been in his room that night it happened. you were both watching a movie when his hands began to wander around your body, squeezing and massaging your skin to make you feel aroused. it didn’t take long for you to end up on top of your boyfriend with your crotch pressing right up against his aching bulge.

when you paused in your actions, you whispered to draken that you were ready to finally take that step with him. he was honestly a little surprised to hear such a thing, but he wasted no time pressing your body onto the mattress and going down on you. he almost came on the spot when he came face to face with your weeping pussy. he knew with his size that you’d need the prep, so he took his time with you.

draken used two of his thick fingers to push into your cunt. he was astonished at how tightly your walls surrounded his digits. he loved hearing you call out his name each time he pumped himself into you. you were such an angel.

once he had made you cum twice, he knew you were ready.

you were honestly kind of nervous. draken was the biggest you had ever seen. when he pushed his cock inside you, there was this sharp inhale that escaped your lips. he was so thick. the girth was stretching you out to almost your limit and you practically held onto him for dear life as he bottomed out into you. you didn’t think he’d be able to make it fit, but he did. he could tell you had some discomfort, so he peppered a few kisses onto your face and whispered sweet nothings to ease you. all he wanted was for you to be comfortable.

you gave him the nod of approval to start moving and you honestly thought he was going to split you in half. his cock was so big. you felt that vein dragging along your walls as he thrusted and it sent you into pure bliss. you could hardly contain the cries of pleasure that spilled from your throat. “d-draken! shit.. ‘feels so good!” you looked at him with hazy eyes while he fucked you so effortlessly.

your voice was like music to his ears. draken’s dick twitched when he heard how his name slipped off your lips. “yeah? you like that, princess? you’re so fuckin’ tight.. i can’t get enough of this pussy..” he grunted.

that knot inside your belly has finally snapped when those words processed through your foggy brain. draken groaned hard when your cunt clamped around his cock, milking him of what was left in his balls. he couldn’t hide his smirk when he realized he had filled you up with his cum. you seemed to enjoy it too, judging by the moan you let out when you felt him covering your walls with white.

he leaned towards your ear, his breath fanning against the shell. it sent shivers down your spine at the action. “round two..?” he asked, seductively.

♡ BAJI KEISUKE

sexual intimacy was never something that was a necessity in your relationship with baji. the two of you often focused on more romantic things than the physical aspects of a relationship, but that didn’t mean that you two never craved those inappropriate desires.

baji knew from day one that you were a virgin. he accidentally asked that “are you a virgin?” question when you both went on a date and almost slapped himself when he realized he came from his mouth. you thought it was kind of funny and you ended up revealing to him that you were a virgin. he didn’t mind at all, and he assured you that he’d never put you in a position where you felt forced to have sex with him. he said sex came naturally and when you were ready to do it with another person.

you and baji went on a nice ride on his bike that night. there was a gorgeous sunset that you both watched and he took you home, expecting you to go into your apartment and not look back. however, he was quite shocked when you tugged his arm to come with you. this hadn’t happened before, so it took him off guard. nonetheless, he followed you up to your apartment and went inside with you.

after you both shrugged off your jackets, you both ended up in your bedroom and baji was the one on top of you. the two of you hadn’t expected it to become so heated that quickly, but you were too far lost in your bliss to even think about stopping. he paused when he realized you were tugging at his belt buckle. he questioned if you wanted to do it and you nodded eagerly. you told him you were sure that you wanted to proceed and he wasted no time diving into you.

baji thought your body was so gorgeous. he couldn’t stop kissing at your skin and sucking to leave marks on it. when he reached your cunt, his mouth practically watered at the sight of it. it was so puffy and cute that he couldn’t help but have a taste. his tongue swiped over your sensitive bead, causing your thighs to trap his head. he was so talented with his tongue and his fingers that you swore you could cum from just him eating you out.

once his chin and lips were completely covered in your arousal, he decided to finally pull out his cock that was aching so painfully.

as soon as baji entered you, your eyes rolled backwards into your skull. the pleasure already felt so amazing that you were already feeling needy for your boyfriend. baji had a pretty impressive size, so taking it was a bit painful at first. he was, however, very good at talking you through that sting. he kissed your lips and whispered how beautiful you were, and he praised you for taking him so well despite the stretch of his cock.

once he started moving, you wrapped your arms around his neck so you could bring him closer to you. baji thought your pussy hugged him perfectly like you were made for him to make love with. you were so gorgeous. he could hardly keep his eyes off of you. “f-fuck me, baby, you’re so beautiful.. bein’ such a good girl for me..” he pressed his thumb against your pretty lips, in which you sucked on it obediently.

you whined as baji adjusted his angle. his cock was now repeatedly hitting your g-spot which sent waves of pleasure to crash over your body. he was taking such care of your body that you didn’t think you’d ever need to fuck anyone else but him. “baji! oh, god, baji!” your nails dug crescents into his skin as he fucked you.

you threw your head back as your orgasm snapped through you. your pussy creamed around baji, earning several grunts from him. he pulled out the moment he felt his high hurdling towards him. sticky white cum covered your stomach, making a mess on your skin.

baji kissed your cheek, a smile appearing on his face. “you were perfect.. let’s wash up and cuddle after, yeah?” he nodded, in which you agreed.

♡ HANMA SHUJI

dating someone like hanma shuji meant you had to deal with his sarcasm and also his flirty nature at the same time. however, he treated you like a princess regardless of those random snarky moments he had. he did anything for you and you couldn’t be happier with any other man.

hanma almost didn’t believe you when you told him you were a virgin. it wasn’t like he thought you were lying for some other reason, but most people your age weren’t virgins. he didn’t see it as a problem, though. hanma thought it would be cute to someday take your virginity. he craved that physical intimacy more than you anticipated, but he was patient with you when it came to the matter. he would wait as long as you wanted, even if there was a side of him that desired to fuck your brains out on a daily basis.

he took you out earlier in the day for some shopping. you were used to being spoiled by him at times, so it wasn’t unusual. he knew the routine fairly well but he was kind of surprised when you both got home and you were being more touchy with him than usual. you brushed yourself over his crotch a few times and kissed him a little longer than normal. he wondered what you wanted, because he couldn’t handle teasing whatsoever.

he was taken back when you told him you wanted to have sex with him. he thought it was a joke, but he knew you were serious when you gave him that look. he didn’t waste another second dragging you into the bedroom and pouncing on you like he was a wild animal going for his prey.

hanma took care of you. he made sure every inch of your body was kissed by his lips. he wanted you to know how stunning you were while you were naked. he swore god had favorites in that moment. it took everything inside of him to not completely ravage your cunt. when he slipped his fingers into you, he was shocked at how easy it was. you were practically soaking wet. his fingers were also quite lengthy. he curled and twisted his digits to find that button inside of you that would make you crumble in front of him.

you were shocked at how quick hanma had made you cum. before you knew it, he was hovering above you with his cock tip teasing your slit. you couldn’t wait any longer and practically begged him to enter you. he let out that usual chuckle and then pushed his cock into you, making your head fall backwards from how great it felt.

he made you feel like you were on the moon with how great he filled you. hanma could hardly believe you were taking him that well. you felt so full with him fully bottomed out in you. it took a little while for you to completely adjust to the size, but once that pain faded into pleasure, you had become a mess underneath your lover. he made your mind become cluttered and you couldn’t even think straight with how great the pleasure was.

“hanma.. oh, fuck! yes!” your fingers gripped the sheets underneath your body.

he smirked at your voice crying out for him. he could hardly hold back against you. he quickened his speed a little, but made sure to not overwhelm you completely. you were delicate to him and he only wanted you to feel safe with him. “god, babydoll, it’s like you were made for me..” he used the hand with sin to toy with your puffy clit. “‘gonna make sure you cum all over my cock..”

you couldn’t hold back anymore and completely let go on him. your pussy squeezed his cock tightly and covered it in slick arousal. hanma pushed a load into your womb, grunting as he reached his high. it was so intense he thought he might have cum twice from you.

he took your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours and pressing a few kisses onto your neck. “i’m so proud of you, doll.. you did so well..” he whispered, lovingly.

#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ official work !#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x you #mikey x reader #mikey sano x reader #mikey smut #draken x reader #draken smut #draken x you #baji x reader #baji keisuke x reader #baji smut #hanma shuji x reader #hanma x reader #hanma smut #tokyo revengers imagines

3K notes · View notes

cozage · 8 months

Note

Idk of your taking requests at the moment... but I had this in my head for God knows how long but how would the one piece men (law, zoro, and shanks mostly) react to cute aggression? Like you just randomly bite them or something or would they have cute aggression against you like they just randomly bite you instead

- hope I'm not asking for alot and no need to actually do this one I know you probably have 100 other requests

Characters: gn reader x Law, Zoro, Shanks Total word count: 475

Love Bites

Law

Law used to get annoyed with these random acts of gentle aggression.

Physical touch is something he doesn’t do well with, so he found it more shocking than anything.

Human affection also doesn’t make much sense to him, and most things you do confuse him honestly (that’s part of what intrigued him most at the beginning of your relationship). He tries to understand, but he doesn’t.

At first, those silly things were met with harsh glares and “What are you doing?” or “Please, Y/N. I’m in the middle of something. I don’t have time for games.”

But he got used to it, eventually not commenting on it at all. Just letting you do your thing.

He found himself anticipating these small acts of loving aggression at some point, though he’s not sure when that switch happened.

Now, if you time it right, you’ll get a soft hum or an amused chuckle out of him.

Zoro

Zoro is confused by this. He does not understand the purpose of this activity.

“What are you doing?!” he demands, jerking away from you. “I’m not some hunk of meat, regardless of what you and Luffy think!”

That makes you laugh. “I dunno, it’s just fun to do!”

He scowls at that. “Zoro” and “fun” have a hard time going together sometimes.

Every time you do it, you can feel his stiffen beneath you, but he stops jerking away from it. Instead, he just laughs. “You’re a strange one,” he’ll say softly, often pairing it with a kiss.

One day he randomly bites you, just a quick little nibble that makes you jump.

“See!?!” he yelled. “It’s weird!”

Shanks

The moment you do it to him, he laughs a big hearty laugh. “If you want attention, dear, just say so.”

And that begins the ongoing love aggression war. Sometimes he knocks his head against yours as you lean against him, or he’ll take your hand and act like he’s going to kiss it, only to gently bite down on your fingers and cause you to shriek with laughter.

He’ll go in for a kiss, and then blow a raspberry an inch away from your face. He's always finding new ammunition to use

“You started this!” he’ll always say, laughing along with you.

You don’t give up that easily, of course. You’ll squeeze and pull at his cheeks, or pinch his arm and giggle as he jumps at the surprise touch.

There is never a bad moment for you all to play these pranks on each other. In fact, the more serious the moment, the harder you guys laugh when one of you pulls it off. You’re both good sports about it, and the game is always something fun for you all to do in times of boredom.

2K notes · View notes

greg-montgomery · 1 year

Note

Please just the team telling r about HOW MUCH OF A SOFT SPOT AARON HAS FOR THEM like god he’s literally such a grouch to Morgan and prentiss but he kisses the ground you walk on and they’re like BESTIE GET A GRIP HES WRAPPED AROJND YOUR FINGER bc reader is convinced he doesn’t share their feelings and he’s just being polite </3

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“Guys, please stop. You’re giving me false hope,” you sighed, dropping your hands on your lap. “I know you’re only trying to make me feel better, but honestly this is making me feel worse.”

“False hope? Sweetheart, the man is in love with you,” Derek said.

“No, he’s not.” You pouted.

You regretted ever telling your friends about your crush on Hotch. What you expected was them making fun of you for it. What you got were daily lectures on how your boss had the hots for you.

“He makes you coffee every single morning,” Emily pointed out.

“He’s just being polite!” you argued.

“We arrive here at the same time every day and he has never made one for me.”

“I’m sure there’s an explanation for this,” you said. “Maybe he thinks you won’t like it the way he makes it. But he knows I do, so that’s why he only does it for me.”

“Okay…” Derek spoke again. His eyebrow was raised, showing he had a very good point to add. “What about when you got hurt last week? It was only a scratch on your cheek but Hotch was ready to drive you to a hospital.”

“Now you’re exaggerating!”

“I saw him cupping your cheeks, it’s true!” Emily exclaimed.

“I also saw that,” Spencer, who had just been observing the conversation, added.

“You too, Spence?”

“Sorry.” He lifted his hands up in defense. “I’m only pointing out what I saw.”

You crossed your arms against your chest. There was no way you’d let them get to you. If you let your heart believe that Aaron had feelings for you then it would break even harder. “He’s like this with all of us.”

Emily moved close to you and took your hand in hers. “No, he’s not,” she said with a smile. “How can you not see it? He looks at you like you’re his sun and stars.”

“We could have an experiment,” Spencer suggested.

“What kind of experiment?”

“Emily got yelled at yesterday for making a mistake during paperwork,” he explained. “I can see you’re preparing a similar report today so you could make on purpose the same mistake as her. Let’s see if he reacts the same way when he sees it. If he yells at you too then that means he treats you the same way he treats all of us. If he doesn’t…then you’re his soft spot.”

“Fine,” you agreed. “Only so you can all finally stop torturing me with this.”

A few hours later, your report was on Hotch’s desk.

“Y/N?”

You heard your name in that warm voice of his and lifted your head to look at him. He was standing at his office door with a smile, certainly not looking like a man about to start yelling.

“Can you please come to my office for a moment?”

“Of course.”

Walking up the stairs to his office, you could feel the stares of your colleagues. Time to prove them wrong, you thought. Even though, you were secretly praying for the opposite.

“What do you need me for?” you acted naive.

“I was just looking at your report,” he said, sitting down on his chair. “And-”

“Oh no, did I make a mistake?”

“No, it’s nothing important!” he rushed to reassure you. “It’s just some little thing. I only wanted to show you so you know the correct way to do it from now on.”

There was a sweet smile on his face. His voice was soft and not at all angry.

“Come on, let me show you.”

It didn’t feel scary to go close to him. So you did.

It was a bit hard to pay attention to him explaining your mistake, since you were staring at his fingers brushing the paper in front of you. It didn’t matter anyway, your mistake wasn’t an accident at all.

“Okay?” he asked when he was done.

“Okay. I’m really sorry, Hotch,” you said, giving him your best puppy eyes. If you were gonna do this experiment, you were gonna do it right. “I’ll be more careful from now on.”

“Why don’t you come to my office next time you prepare a report like this one? We can do it together, hm?”

“But you’re so busy, I don’t wanna slow you down,” you argued, your heart beating faster and faster as you realized that Aaron wasn’t angry at all with you.

“Nonsense. We’re doing it together next time.”

“Okay,” you said. “Thank you, Hotch.”

Just before you arrived at the door, you heard him calling your name. “Oh and Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you responded, looking back at him.

“The team is right.”

“Right on what?”

He smirked and dropped his gaze back to his papers. “You know what.”

You turned around to exit his office with a huge grin on your face. Sometimes it feels better when you lose.

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch #criminal minds #ask #hotch 🪐

4K notes · View notes

t-lostinworlds · 20 days

Text

Big, Hormonal Heart | Bucky Barnes

》 PAIRING: bucky barnes x pregnant!female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: established relationship (marriage), fluff fluff fluff

》 SUMMARY: It'd probably take more than one lifetime for Bucky to list reasons why he was so lucky to call you his wife. He was certain your big heart was one of them. One that grew even more with pregnancy hormones. It was sweet, how you to got so upset when they got his order wrong. Your meal was perfectly fine. But when his wasn't? Oh it was a crime.

》 WARNINGS: pregnancy, a dog named Snow and Alpine the cat, pet names (doll, baby, my love, sweetheart), emotional!r (she cries. like, most of the fic), husband!bucky being the sweetest, domesticity and just overall fluff (pretty tame fic ngl)

》 WORD COUNT: 2.5k+

A/N: this idea was super random. i saw an insta reel of a pregnant woman having mood swings over some food and then everyone was sharing their experiences in the comments and i got inspired so here ya go alksalkss. DISCLAIMER! I'm not pregnant nor have i ever been lol. I did as much research as i could but still, don't count on me to be 100% accurate.

++ ALSO this was written in just a few hours. this isn't my best work. just something i wanted to write as an exercise since i haven't written anything in months. anyways, i hope you enjoy!

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ B. BARNES MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

Bucky Barnes was one lucky man.

If someone had told him years ago that he was going to live in a quaint home in the suburbs, a lovely backyard space for a dog and a cat to enjoy, and that he'd be married to the absolute love of life, an angel on earth who was now carrying his first child—

He honestly would've stared at them dead in the eye, wondering how someone could make such a cruel joke.

Yet here he was, actually living it, a life that seemed so much like a dream.

Though he was quickly reminded of how real this was as he stood in the nursery, glaring at the manual that came with the crib you two had bought from the furniture store.

It looked simple enough at first—putting together ready-made pieces should be easy, right?

Wrong.

Not when you have countless amounts of screws that more or less looked the same but were actually not because each served a different purpose.

He was in the middle of figuring out how to install the legs to the main base when you walked into the room with your two bodyguards—Alpine the Cat and Snow the five-year-old Samoyed—in tow.

"How's it going, handsome?" you hummed as you reached his side, arms wrapping around his waist, your warmth immediately easing the frustration he had about this goddamn crib.

"It's…" he sighed, gesturing at the wooden pieces scattered around the floor. "Going."

You laughed at that, kissing his clothed shoulder before standing in front of him.

Bucky held your waist then, pulling you as close as he could given that your baby bump was in the middle of you both.

He honestly couldn't begin to express how much comfort and warmth covered his whole being every time he was met with the absolute love in your eyes.

And Bucky was sure his gaze shined the same.

So many people have pointed it out on numerous occasions, the twinkle in his eyes every time they land on you—his beautiful wife.

"I was thinking," you murmured, resting your hands on his chest, moving up his shoulder and down again in a sweet caress. "How about a quick break while we order some food?"

It was only about an hour after lunch, so Bucky wasn't particularly keen on filling his stomach some more.

But you, on the other hand, were nearing the end of your second trimester. It wasn't out of the norm for you to be hungry at this time, given you were eating for two. Plus, there was an added layer that your little peanut probably had some super soldier serum in their DNA—the baby's appetite could be enhanced for all he knew.

Other than that, the last thing Bucky wanted was an angry and hungry pregnant wife. So it wasn't really a hard decision to make.

"Okay, let's get you something to eat," he said.

Ever the observant person that you were, you quickly noticed his choice of words.

"For me?" you asked, brows furrowed. "You're not hungry?"

Bucky shook his head. "Not really."

Your bottom lip went.

He instantly knew he said the wrong thing.

"But I'm hungry," you murmured, eyes starting to glisten.

He could never explain it even if he tried, but whenever you got upset, your bodyguards always seemed to notice it. The two have always been protective of you and that only grew tenfold when you got pregnant.

Today wasn't an exception.

Snow barked at him, whining his complaints as he put his fifty-pound body between your legs, slightly pushing Bucky back. The furball was well trained though, so his protectiveness never went too far beyond being vocal about it. Alpine, on the other hand, was sitting a foot away, glaring at Bucky—quite the traitor given that she was supposed to be his cat, but he couldn't blame her for loving you, either—as if she knew it was his fault you were upset.

But still, Bucky wasn't quite sure what he'd done wrong.

"I know, sweetheart," he said slowly, a little confused, trying to navigate around Snow who was pawing at his leg as if trying to push him further away. "I'll order some food for you."

"But you're not hungry," you repeated, body slumping with sadness.

"I'm not," he agreed, quickly cupping your face when a tear slipped from your eyes. "But hey, hey, that doesn't mean we can't still order food for you, doll."

"No, I know," you sniffled.

"So, what's making you upset, hmm?"

You buried your face in his chest with a shaky breath as you said,

"I don't want to eat alone."

Bucky paused, pressing his lips and swallowing down a laugh because he couldn't have you thinking he was making fun of you. He wasn't. But you were so adorable it made his chest ache.

"Okay, okay," he hummed, kissing the side of your head as he rubbed your back in comfort. "I'll order something for me, too."

•••

A few minutes later, your little family migrated to the living room. You both were sitting on the couch together, the two furballs sprawled at your feet as a random show played on TV. Various take-out bags covered the coffee table, way too many for two people but hey, that's what fridges and microwaves are for.

Fondness filled Bucky's bones as he watched you settle your food on your lap, doing what he called your Cravings Satisfied Wiggle.

He couldn't contain his chuckle.

You looked at him with furrowed brows, words a little muffled with your mouth full. "What?"

"Happy?" he asked, reaching over to wipe the sauce on the corner of your mouth.

"Very much," you giggled, eyes wrinkling at the corners.

Even after all these years, the sight of your pure joy still made his heart stutter, chest growing warmer when you leaned closer with a pout.

Bucky met you halfway for a short yet sweet kiss.

"Thank you," you hummed, even though there was no need for you to thank him for ordering you food.

"You're welcome, sweetheart."

Reaching over the table, he took the one and only paper bag that was for him, because again, he wasn't that hungry.

"Oh."

"What's wrong?" You turned to him in concern.

"It's not a big deal," he reassured with a smile, shrugging because it really wasn't. "They got mine wrong."

You frowned. "You didn't get the nuggets?"

"No, they give me the burger meal," he said. "They must've misheard me.

Bucky immediately perked up when your lips started to tremble.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" he asked worriedly, cupping your face to wipe away your tears.

"You—" you sniffled. "You didn't get your nuggets."

Bucky pressed his lips to stop a smile.

God you were so fucking cute.

"It's okay, baby," he soothed. "I'm fine with a burger, too."

You cried even harder.

Snow and Alpine quickly stood, all alert and concerned as they nudged your leg.

"You wanted the nuggets, Bucky," you insisted, choking back a sob. "But you didn't get it."

He carefully pulled you closer, rubbing your back in comfort as you laid your head on his shoulder. "I know, but it's okay—"

"No, it's not!" you protested, all teary and frustrated, pulling away to glare at him. "You deserve to get what you want. Y-You deserve all the good things after e-everything."

Bucky might honestly start crying too with how sweet you were being.

"Oh doll, come here," he placated, pulling you in for a hug while trying to navigate the food on your lap.

He could take it away for safety, but he'd already learned his lesson the hard way. Taking food away from a pregnant woman was a death sentence.

"I want you to be happy," you sniffled, burying your face against his neck. "You wanted the nuggets and they disrespected that."

It took so much for him not to let out a chuckle. Because as much as Bucky hated to see you crying and upset, he couldn't deny how adorably funny this whole conversation was.

But you'd always had the biggest heart. Whether that was crying over those rescue animal videos, emotional scenes in movies, to feeling upset over something he was experiencing—your empathy was always high.

What more with the pregnancy hormones in the mix?

"How about I ask them to change it?"

Again, wrong thing to say.

He needed to get better at this.

"But they're probably so stressed and overworked already," you sobbed. "A-And it's about to rain. I don't want the delivery guy to get wet in the rain. T-They already don't get paid enough."

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he hummed, rubbing your back. "Will you look at me, my love?"

You lifted your head then, Bucky's heart aching at the absolute distress on your features—pout in full play, eyes a little bloodshot with tear stains on your skin.

He cupped your cheeks with a soft smile, placing gentle kisses all over your face, unrelenting until you let out a whine of protest. He stopped then, thankful to see that you'd calmed down now.

"I promise you, the burger meal is perfectly fine with me. I'm not mad or upset about it. I don't mind it at all," he said.

You took a calming deep breath and nodded. It only took a second for you to look at him sheepishly.

"Sorry I overreacted," you whispered, embarrassed.

"Hey, none of that," he lightly scolded. "All the emotions you're feeling will always be valid."

You smiled, small yet sweet, leaning in and kissing him with as much gratitude as you could muster.

"Besides, it makes me feel so honored to know that you're willing to fight for my chicken nugget rights."

"Shut up, Barnes."

•••

You and Bucky always had a nightly routine and it usually consisted of the two of you getting ready for bed in your own different ways. They were intertwined, but not exactly the same. Like you'd be doing some skin care in the bathroom while he would be brushing his teeth.

But ever since you got pregnant, your routine became more in sync.

It usually started with a bath that he'd run for you. Most of the time he'd end up joining you, the length of said bath varying since that usually depended on what mood you were in. Bucky was always at the service of meeting his wife's needs, after all.

Recently, now that your bump wasn't particularly easy to navigate, he'd helped you get ready for bed. From getting dressed to your skin care, including rubbing some moisturizer on your stomach. That part was one of his favorite things to do.

Then it was the typical things, getting dressed, brushing your teeth—this one you stopped him from doing it for you even though he was more than willing—and overall just getting ready for bed.

Once you’d settled on the pregnancy pillow that Bucky fluffed up for you, he'd sit near the foot of the bed to give your sore feet a massage while you read a book.

Tonight, right when he was in the middle of doing that, he heard you sniffle.

Bucky looked up in concern, catching you already staring at him with tears already in your eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking you over. "Does something hurt?"

"No, I-I'm okay. I just—" You cut yourself off with a sob.

Bucky quickly moved beside you, pulling you onto his lap as he wrapped his arms around your form. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, body shaking as you cried.

"Hey, hey, talk to me," he murmured against your hair. "Tell me what's wrong."

"It's just—" You let out a shaky breath. "You're always taking care of me."

"Of course, sweetheart, you're my wife," he said. "And not only because it's my duty as your husband, but because I love you so much."

That made you cry even harder.

"I l-love you too, so much," you sobbed. "But I haven't been able to take care of you lately and that's not f-fair."

Bucky felt his heart grow as if it wasn't already bursting at the seams.

How could someone be so selfless and sweet?

"You're pregnant, my love," he stated the obvious reason as to why. "Besides, I'm capable of taking care of myself. It's alright."

"No, it's not," you argued, pulling away slightly to face him. "You deserve to be taken care of, too! You deserve to get pampered a-and a break but you're always fussing over me and taking care of me instead. I'm not helping with any of it. I'm just making it harder for you."

"No, absolutely not," he stated firmly, holding your face in his hands, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. "I love taking care of you. It honestly makes me feel so fulfilled and happy when I do."

"Really?" you sniffled.

"Yes. It's the least I could do with everything that you've been going through right now," he said truthfully, adding with a chuckle, "Hell, if I could carry our baby so you wouldn't have to go through all the pain I would."

That earned him a small laugh.

"But I want to take care of you, too," you admitted after a deep breath.

"You already are," he hummed, thumb stroking your cheek lovingly. "You're taking care of our baby and my heart, and those are very important to me."

You scrunched up your nose adorably.

"That was so cheesy."

"But it's true, though."

You smiled, cupping his face. Bucky turned his head to kiss your palm.

"Thank you," you sighed fondly. "For putting up with me and for everything."

"First off, I'm not putting up with anything," he reassured, kissing your other palm before adding, "Second, you never have to thank me for taking care of you. Never."

You nodded, leaning closer to press your lips against his, pouring all your love and gratitude into it. Bucky kissed you back with the same fervor, never needing words to express what you truly feel for each other.

He felt so content—feeling your lips, your fingers tangled in his hair, and your little peanut asking for attention too, kicking the second Bucky rested hand on your bump.

When you let out a soft, needy whine, he was ready to take the kiss even further.

That was until a wet tongue met his cheek.

Bucky groaned in annoyance, pulling away to see Snow giving you a kiss, too. He couldn't be angry at the dog for ruining the moment when your lovely laugh echoed in the air. Alpine jumped on the bed a second later, nudging her head against Bucky's chin before walking over to place a loving paw on your bump.

His smile was as bright as it could be as he watched the scene before him.

A wonderful home, a wholesome family that involved his beautiful, loving wife and two furballs, his family that was only getting bigger in a few months—

Yeah.

Bucky Barnes was one lucky man.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

↬ thank you for reading lovely! reblog & leave a comment if you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated! ++ consider supporting me on ko-fi if you can!

✉ NO TAGLIST: go follow @t-lostinlibrary and turn on notifications to get updated on my works!

© t-lostinworlds, 2023 ✘ I do NOT give any permission to repost, translate, & use any of my works (writings, gifs, dividers, etc.) on any platform, with credit or otherwise. Please respect that. Thank you.

#bhh #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes reader insert #sebastian stan #my writing

763 notes · View notes

inkdrinkerworld · 7 months

Text

Talk Too Much

Pairing: Remus Lupin x loud but shy!reader

Cw: college!au, fluff, kind of friends to lovers, obliviousness by Remus for a while, drinking (mentioned), smoking (cigarettes), I think that’s it

Wc: 2.2k

You’re a loudmouth. Through and through. Of all your friends, you honestly think you and James would be the ones to never shut up or run out of words.

That is until Remus transfers into the school and infiltrates your friend group and suddenly you find the words can run out.

It’s not on purpose.

It seems to take you over purely by coincidence- the way your throat gets dry and your tongue seems too heavy to form the words you want to get out when Remus seems to be paying attention to only you. His gaze isn’t unwelcome- that’s the entire problem.

You like the feeling of being what he looks at, but it feels too good, too natural.

His honey eyes that are just lightly flecked with green, and his sharp jawline that’s adorned with silvery scar tissue that somehow makes him even more handsome.

He’s also always got a cigarette to fiddle with.

You’ve only seen him smoke twice, and had been mesmerised by the way his cheeks hollow and how he blows the smoke out and it seems to curl around him like it’s unable to obey his exhales in the opposite direction.

He reminds you in a way of Charlie Dalton and Stephen Meeks.

Fctional characters who Remus seems to emulate in his confidence (from Charlie) and a sort of confidence that’s self-assured yet mild at the same time (a mix of the two) and that in itself makes you fall a little more for him.

It’s overwhelming- this attraction to him. It confuses you and has you tripping over words in your head, far less for if you voiced them and all that was heard were clunky excuses for sentences.

What makes your sudden bouts of silence obvious is the fact that your friends have caught onto you.

It’s not like it’s exceptionally hard to decipher either- you’re not really good at being subtle.

You suspect James and Sirius are taking bets on when it’ll all be too obvious for everyone to walk around it and you desperately hope that it takes months while simultaneously hoping it takes only weeks.

Remus notices the way your body freezes when you realise you’ve caught his attention in your storytelling. In his mind, it’s because you don’t like him.

The way you shrink down and suddenly go silent the moment his eyes set upon you, the way you remain quiet even though he sees the way the corners of your mouth twitch with something to say.

He thinks he’s put you off somehow, especially when the second he’s gone a little ways away to get a drink or get his lunch, you seem to perk right back up and dive into storytelling once more.

It bothers him so much he asks Sirius about it- a mistake in itself, because Sirius only pokes fun at his friend.

“If you can’t realise why she goes silent the moment you stare at her Lupin, I can’t help you.” Sirius walks off leaving Remus even more perplexed, moreso when he hears Sirius says, “How’s he so thick for someone doing so many higher classes?”

It bewilders Remus for weeks, your always sudden vows of silence and then your equally sudden broken vows.

You’re all at a house party when it comes to an almost end.

You’re dressed pretty like always, a skirt that hugs all the places Remus longs to touch and a top that shows a sliver of your stomach and Remus catches a glimpse of jewellery hanging in your navel.

Your ears have a pair of hanging bat earrings, and your necklace is your standard one- he’s sure he’s never seen you without it.

You’re smiling and laughing with Marlene and Mary as you walk in. Remus wants to figure out why you dislike him so, he desperately wants to change your sour opinion of him. He’s going to at least try to do so tonight, if you can stomach looking at him.

“C’mon losers,” James’ loud voice is unmistakable, “We’re playing seven minutes in heaven.”

Remus is only approaching when he hears your teasing,

“Are we taking a blast back to Year 9 Jamie?”

James nods, “Yeah we are, and would you look at that you and Lupin are up first.” You’re sure there’s an evil little grin on James’ face when you look up and find Remus standing there in his soft brown sweater and jeans.

You can smell a little of the cigarette he’d smoked before coming in, but mostly you smell his citrus, pepper and amber cologne.

It’s heady and you swear your brain gets a little drunk on it.

“Get going you two,” Sirius teases and you sigh standing.

Remus’ mind is reeling, wondering how he’s going to get back at Sirius and James and the rest of your friends that he knows are in on this too.

Out of ear shot of your friends as you both go to the nearest room, Remus says lowly, “You don’t have to come in. I’ll just tell them we talked.”

You look up at him, eyes wide and Remus takes your surprise as a moment to admire you up close. He counts three beauty marks near your right eye, another on your neck just under your chin, and one on your nose. He’s distracted by you for a good long while that he doesn’t register you’ve spoken till he sees you walk into the room and gesture for him to follow.

It’s tense, a silence neither of you are sure how to break.

You think Remus is the most gorgeous man to be placed on the Earth, and Remus thinks you find him repulsive.

You watch Remus climb onto the bed, his long legs crossed at the ankles as his back presses against the headboard.

His casualness makes him look even more attractive and while you’re aware that you’re staring at him, you can’t make yourself stop.

‘Now or never,’ he thinks to himself before asking, “Have I offended you somehow?”

There it is, laid open and bare. The question hangs in the air, like the most tantalising yet foreign fruit you’ve ever seen.

“No?” It comes out like a question. One Remus takes as a chance to explain.

“It’s just that you’re always talking or telling a story with the others, and as soon as I’m near earshot you go silent and you can’t meet my eyes. So I’ve been thinking that maybe I’ve offended you, and I just wanted to say sorry for if I did- directly or indirectly.”

Remus’ attractiveness has been upped by a thousand- you’re sure all the love deities are having a laugh at your hopelessness.

You can’t meet his eyes now, even as you sit on the bed, so close to him that your biceps brush each other’s. “You haven’t offended me.”

Your voice is much softer than he’s ever heard it. Remus thinks this must be the softest you’ve ever spoken in your whole life.

“I haven’t?” he asks and you shake your head. Hazarding a glance at him, you find Remus leaning his shoulder down, his chin tucked as his eyes roam your frame.

“N-no,” your stutter gives you away slowly. “You’re just different from the others.” It’s not a clearer explanation, but the gears are turning in Remus’ head all the same and you can tell.

“Different how?” Remus doesn’t want to assume anything and that’s what causes the gears to come to a screeching halt.

You sigh, fiddling with the hem of your skirt. Remus has never seen you this unsure. Everything you do is with confidence and ease, like you were just made to walk, talk and move the way that you do. Like it was as easy as breathing.

Maybe it’s the way you take your time to consider your words, or the way you fiddle with your clothes or even the way your breathing changes as he leans just a bit closer that makes Remus smile a little.

“Will you look at me for a second, darling gwerthfawr?” The softness of his tone and the way his accent changes to something a little more melodic makes you more jelly-like than you usually are in his presence.

“Hm?” you hum and Remus smirks. Silvery slithers of scar tissue moving with his mouth and making him look wicked in a way that has you falling a little more in love with him.

“Why don’t you like looking or speaking to me?”

Remus doesn’t let you turn away, doesn’t let you tuck your cheek to your shoulder as you deliberate what you want to say. No, instead, the menace holds your chin and stares at you, holding your gaze and making your brain cloud even more as his cologne and attention wash over you.

“I like looking at you,” you admit shyly, the confession coming from your lips with hesitation. Like Remus will be repulsed by the fact that you like looking at him. “But you make me nervous.”

The words are suspended in the quiet of the room. All there is the muffled sounds of the party going on in the living room, and then yours and Remus’ breathing.

“I make you nervous?”

Sirius and James burst through the door, wide smiles that turn into shocked smirks at your positions.

“Well love birds, sorry but your seven minutes are up.” Remus staggers in letting your chin go, but when his fingers slacken, you leave the room, belly in knots in the almost wordy confession.

“So, how’d that go?” James asks him as you bend the corner- he’s sure that Lily and the other girls will be doing the same with you.

Remus flops on the bed, “Nothing that concerns you two gits.” His mind is racing with possibilities of finishing this conversation.

Sirius boos, “After all that planning to get you two in here and snogging each other’s faces off, that’s the thanks we get?” Walking out with James who’s shaking his head.

“But you make me nervous,” repeats in his head for days. He’s not dense by a mile, but Remus has a hard time figuring out what about him makes you nervous.

Sure he’s tall and a little serious, but he’s not as intimidating as he’d first thought Sirius was. Remus doesn’t want to turn to his friends, sure they’d tease him endlessly for being ‘thick,’ and then more than likely tell you and that would just make you even more nervous to look or speak to him at the very least.

What Remus does do, is consult the best person he knows that will give him impartial advice; books.

There’s always a book for any occasion, so he delves deep. Behavioural analysis books, books on people with social anxiety (which he doesn’t think you have because it’s just him that gets the selective mutism) and even at the end of it, he turns to romance novels. Something must stand out.

It comes to a head when Remus comes to the library when you’re busy typing away at your essay. You feel the presence, the warmth of his pepper and amber cologne as he pulls the seat out beside you.

Remus doesn’t say a word as he sits down. Instead, he pulls out his laptop and begins typing at the same essay prompt you’re working on.

You’re hyper aware of everything he’s doing- every breath, every sigh, every harsh backspace and enter.

Remus doesn’t seem to be half as affected as you are and it has you whispering, “What are you doing here, Remus?”

He hums, tapping his forefinger near the touchpad. He finishes his sentence and then turns to you. “Working on that essay due tomorrow.”

You frown, lips pulled downwards as you think of your next words. “You know what I mean, why are you sitting beside me?”

Remus sighs, head hanging off the back of the chair. “I want you to not be nervous around me anymore. I also want to know why I make you nervous.”

You swallow, mouth suddenly dry.

Remus turns to look at you and the amber lighting of the library makes his skin look sunkissed and supple. His honey and sage eyes blink owlishly at you, no sign of rushing you along for an answer.

That was something you had learnt while silently watching Remus. He’s always actually listening- not just listening to respond.

“Because,” you start, eyes darting all over his face in search of any insecurity in it. “You always seem so hyper focused on what it is I’m going to say next and it flusters me.”

Remus’ face morphs into a smile, his lazy expression from before melting away as his eyes warm to your embarrassed whisper.

“So it’s not dislike?” He asks, hands itching to tip your chin up like he had the other night.

“Are you going to make me say it out loud?”

“Poor girl,” he feels much more confident now. Now that he knows for sure that you don’t hate him and that you might actually like him as much as he likes you, he can be a little more flirty.

His hand reaches for your wrist, thumb running back and forth around your pulse.

You scowl, more than a little bashful to have exposed your feelings to Remus. He doesn’t mind.

No, Remus feels over the moon. Enough so that his hand moves from your wrist and his forefinger hooks under your chin so you’re making eye contact again.

“I like you too. Just as much,” it’s his turn for a whispered confession and you hope to all hell that he can’t feel the thundering of your pulse. “Maybe more.”

You feel your body buzz under his attention. Remus leans in closer, “Let me take you out after this? We can go somewhere quiet and have a proper ‘first’ conversation.”

#remuslupin #remus lupin #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x black!reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x yn #remus lupin x loud but shy!reader

2K notes · View notes

changbinlov3r · 23 days

Text

Another Love | Part 6

Summary: you've been hopelessly in love with Han since you were children. One night you confess your feelings to him.

Genre: angst, smut, fluff

Words count: 8,416

Warnings: angst, hickeys, unprotected piv(don't do this at home), dirty talk(I think that's it)

A/N: I'm finally here with the last part of Another Love. This fic means the whole world to me, it's the story that made me grow a lot as a writer and was the first story that I thought "woah this is really good" when I finished the first part. I hope you all like this last part, I poured my whole heart in this and I really want you all to feel what I tried to convey with my words. Thank you for all the comments, reblogs and feedback, that's what made me motivated to finish this fic.

Also, I wanna thank my best friend @baby-yongbok for bearing my whines and rumbles about this story. Thank you baby for helping me through the difficult times 🫶🏻

You may have regretted telling Han that you would give him a chance. How soon? As soon as the sentence left your mouth. Why? Because now, you are going to have to face all the demons you kept inside of you for all these years.

While having an unrequited love, you had a motto: if you don’t get too delusional, it's going to hurt less. So every single time, when your mind started wandering through those dirty thoughts, you made sure to stop yourself. However, now it’s not a one sided love anymore and you’re honestly afraid of what that means. The furthest thing you thought about doing with Jisung, was a kiss and even that left you hot and bothered. Now, you are thinking about other things, like having sex and that’s something you never did before for the sake of your sanity.

It doesn’t help that Jisung is a menace and surprisingly you didn't know about it. 15 years of friendship and just about now did you find out that this man has no shame.

Things were going pretty normal, he had been treating you like always so things didn't seem to have changed much and that gave you some peace of mind, afterall, he was always affectionate to you.

However, little by little, you started noticing some things. Like, walking around the house shirtless like he wants you to look and unsurprisingly that’s exactly what you do. Every fucking time, you feel like you'll explode and in your defense, it's really, really hard not to look. He shows up wearing nothing but sweatpants and you try with all your willpower to look anywhere but him but in the end you can't help but look. Honestly, it's impossible and you know he's doing it on purpose because you get glimpses of his condescending smile whenever he catches you watching. You wish you could punch him in the face but then he’ll know he has won and you can’t let that happen.

Jisung is trying to prove a point, is it risky? Yes, but he's not entirely confident about winning you over. Even though you said you would give him a chance, every time he tries to get close to you it seems like you push him away and that scares him, he’s afraid you will change your mind and he can’t have that. So he’s trying to show you that he’s the full package.

He's good to you and funny but that you already knew, you have been friends for a long time. So he wants to show you a new side of him, something you only get to see from a boyfriend.

After days of hesitation, one night he finally makes his move. You’re in the kitchen, trying to get something on the top shelf but you can't seem to reach it. Jisung sees that and a brilliant idea pops on his head, you can only hear his footsteps coming behind you and in the split of a second, you feel the warmth of his body almost touching yours when he leans over you to get the bowls you wanted.

That’s the moment you lose your mind, years of restraint ending in a simple touch of his. Actually, the fact that he’s not even touching you makes everything worse.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You ask, not turning around to look at him.

“Helping you, what else?” He answers, voice shaking a bit with the proximity. You can feel his breathing on the top of your head.

“I didn’t ask for help”, you clarify, not to sound rude but just trying to control yourself.

Unexpectedly, you feel his hands lightly holding your hips and in a quick move he turns you around, caging you against the kitchen cabinet and you release a shaky breath, heart beating like a hammer on your chest.

“You’re pushing me away”, he points out, “I won’t be able to win you over if you don’t let me”

You stare at him for a minute, he’s looking at you with puppy eyes, making you sigh.

“I’m sorry, I just have to get used to it”, you say, “I thought you would never like me so this change is kinda overwhelming”, you clarify.

“Shall we go on a date, then?” He proposes, taking a step back, looking at you hopefully. You nod, earning a big smile from him. “Okay, be ready tomorrow at 8 am”, he tells you, making you frown.

“What are we gonna do so early in the morning?” You ask, confused, making him shrug.

“It's a surprise”, he says, “but I can tell you that you should dress comfortably”

That's all he says, turning around and leaving you alone in the kitchen. Why does it seem like you just fell right into his trap? Like he already had everything planned and you acted exactly how he wanted you to?

There's nothing much you can do now since you already accepted the date, so you forget about what you wanted to do in the kitchen and go to your room, preparing a handbag with anything you'll possibly need.

He's up before you, waiting with breakfast and a warm cup of coffee. While you two eat you just know he's dying to tell you where you're going but he also doesn't want to ruin the surprise.

You realize it's going to be a trip when he drives out of the city, giving you the task of taking care of the playlist. You scroll through his songs, some from the boys, some from the artists he likes, you add some that you like, until you see the seaside.

“Are we going to the beach?” You ask, eyes sparkling. You missed this place so much.

“We are”, he smiles, stretching his hand to grab yours, interlacing your fingers. You feel your face hot, sure that you're blushing but you glance at him, seeing Jisung stare at the road with that shit eating grin on his lips.

“Don’t you think you're being too much?” You ask, trying to hide the smile that's trying to escape your lips.

“Not really”, he shrugs.

You and Jisung would always come to the beach when you were younger, it would be usually on your vacation but when you two were feeling down or something upsetting happened, you'd catch a bus and come here. You'd just sit in the sand, watching as the waves came and went, as the ocean reflected the color of the sky. It didn’t matter if it was winter or summer, that was always the place to make you feel better.

Jisung parks in front of a restaurant, inviting you to come out to eat and you look around, seeing how much it has changed since the last time you went there. When you moved to Seoul for school, you stopped traveling farther than your parents house. Even though you didn’t really need to save money because your family always supported you, you like to have savings for an emergency, so you had to give up on luxuries like traveling too far. Also, as you got older it became more difficult to stay close to your best friend in a place that was meant for just the two of you, every time you would go to the beach with him, you’d feel the urge to confess and that couldn’t happen, you were not ready yet. So you spent the last few years avoiding coming to your favorite place.

You were planning to come alone one day, when you had gotten over Jisung but life seems to be playing with you and now you’re there with the man you love and he’s the one holding himself not to confess to you right then and there. Not because it’s a secret, but because he doesn’t want to pressure you more than he already feels like he’s doing.

“I can’t believe we came all this way to eat spicy fried chicken”, he tells you as soon as you order your favorite.

“Stop”, you pout, “you know this place has the best chicken wings in the entire planet”

“Have you ever tried all the chicken wings on the planet?” He teases, making you roll your eyes.

“I don’t need to, I just know this one is the best”, you argue back, crossing your arms.

He stares at you with an idiotic smile, biting on his bottom lip trying not to laugh at you.

“Maybe on our next tour you can come with us?” he says, feeling his face warming up, “I’ll accept your opinion only after you try the fried chicken from two other countries”

Jisung looks around, trying to hide his blushing or his pout, anxiously waiting for your answer but you can see his ears as red as tomatoes.

“Maybe”, that’s the only thing you say, holding yourself from giggling.

You and Jisung take a walk when you finish your food, needing some exercise after eating too much. You take your sneakers off, feeling the sand hugging your feet and the cold water making you shiver when the waves finally get to you.

“Remember when I had to go on tour for the first time?” Jisung asks, glancing at you and you nod. “You got so upset that I would go away for an entire month, that you disappeared, your mom wanted to kill you”, he chuckles and you sigh, remembering that time.

You were 20 and had barely settled down in Seoul when he had to go away. You were upset that you would have to stay all by yourself since classes had already started but you pretended like everything was alright.

“I didn’t really disappear, that’s an exaggeration”, you scoff, “I just forgot to mention that I wouldn’t come home that night”

“Well, that sounds like disappearing to me”, he argues back, “and it did to our parents too”

“The point?” You try changing the subject, not really wanting to admit that you were in the wrong.

“The point is, that I found you seated on that rock right there”, he points to the place you were walking to. “You were a mess, you cried and were already sick because you didn’t bring a coat and it was already night”, he scolds you, making you roll your eyes.

“And?” You push again, starting to feel guilty again about that day.

“I should have realized your feelings for me sooner”, Jisung bites on his bottom lip, fidgeting with his hands. “Everyone but me knew and you had to struggle on your own. I’m sorry”

You feel tears brimming on your eyes, you don’t want him to pity you.

“I never wanted an apology from you”, you explain, “I was always aware that you didn’t have to like me back. It was not fair of me to expect you to feel something you didn’t. That’s why I never told you… I mean, until I couldn’t hold it back anymore”, you chuckle awkwardly. “Even if you had never liked me back, I wouldn’t want you to apologize to me”

Jisung pouts, nodding in agreement.

“But I’m not apologizing for not liking you back”, he say, “I’m apologizing because you struggled because of me and if I had realized it sooner maybe you wouldn’t have had to-”

“And maybe you wouldn’t have fallen in love with me too”, you blurt out, hand flying to your mouth as soon as the sentence left your mouth, making a big smile show up in his lips.

“Am I hearing this correctly?” He teases, seeing you blush. “Did you just admit that you are satisfied that I’m the one in love now?”

“Why, of course”, you bite back a smile. “You deserve a bit of a punishment for dating so much in your life”, you shake your head in disapproval.

“There’s nothing wrong with falling in love”, he teases, laughing when you roll your eyes.

He’s right, you were in love with him for a long time and there’s nothing wrong with that. However, for some reason, that makes your heart ache and an awful thought appears in your mind, making you stop on your tracks, glancing at him and staring for a whole minute before speaking up again.

“For how long are you going to be in love with me though?” You ask, letting your insecurities speak but you can’t help but think about that. “Your relationships didn’t last that long, are you sure you won’t just fall out of love with me in a bit?”

That makes his smile disappear, his brows knit together in a frown, pure confusion on his complexion.

“I- you’re different”, he says like it is the simplest thing in the world.

“What’s so different about me?” You push, trying to understand him, trying to look for some reassurance.

“I don’t think I ever felt like this for anyone before”, he explains. “I was never the jealous type, but when I saw you with Jeongho I wanted to explode and my chest hurt so much. I think of you every minute of the day, I was never like this before. I want to show you places, I want to take you to eat different foods and see your reaction when you taste them. You know you’re just like Hyunjin right? You do that face when you eat something delicious”, he smiles, “I want to be the one to make you smile and I want to be the one who’s there when you need to cry. I want to be your best friend, but I don’t want to be just your best friend, I want to have it all. All of you”

You feel like all the air from your body just decided to come out, you can’t breathe and at the same time you feel like you’re breathing too much — too fast, but when you see his dark eyes watching you, waiting for you to say something — anything, its like your body move on its on and in the split of a second your lips are on his.

You always dreamed about kissing Jisung. You always imagined how it would be to kiss him. But not even your greatest dreams came close to reality. His lips are soft just like cotton and warm like the hot chocolate you drink on a cold day. His body pressed against yours is something you never thought you needed but now that you have it it's something you don’t think you can let go.

His hands cup your face, fingers digging on your skin like you’re going to run away if he holds you with less strength. He’s shy, just pressing his lips against yours, until it's too much for him to handle and his tongue comes into your mouth, making you sigh. Jisung's hands trail gentle caresses down your arms, leaving a trail of warmth behind and sliding around your waist and pressing himself more against you.

You are completely lost in his lips, not sure what to do next, it's like it's your first time kissing someone. You grab his shirt, trying to get a hold on something, trying not to fall because your legs are almost giving out and your chest feels like exploding. When you two need to breathe, he pulls away from you, looking at you breathlessly, waiting for you to explain yourself or at least give him another kiss. But when he sees doubt in your eyes, he hugs you, squeezing you against him again.

“Please, don’t run away now”, he pleads. “I don’t think I can handle it, not after this”

“Jisung, I-”, you hesitate, trying to say the right thing.

“You don’t have to give me an answer right now”, he assures you. “I won’t expect anything from you until you are sure about your decision, so don’t worry about it”, he says.

“Okay”, you nod.

The fact that it seems like your feelings didn’t change at all, scares you. How could you try so hard to get over him but still feel the same? If he hadn’t come around to like you, would you have struggled your whole life with your unrequited love? It didn’t happen but the ‘what if’ is haunting you and you can’t give him an answer until this feeling goes away.

The trip back home is quiet, not as awkward as you thought it would be but Jisung seems lost in thoughts and you are not very different. You don’t know why you keep letting all these intrusive thoughts win over your mind, if it was before your confession, you’d jump in his arms at the mere mention of him liking you back, so why is it so different now? Why are you so hesitant?

“Do you want pizza?” He asks, as soon as you enter Seoul again.

“Yeah”, you nod, looking at him.

Jisung changed too, he’s treating you the same as he always did but it seems different somehow, you just can’t quite grasp what changed. He looks more mature, like something switched inside of him and that makes you a bit nervous. You’re not so familiar with this Jisung, you can’t predict what he’s gonna do next or what he’s thinking. Your best friend doesn’t look just like your best friend anymore and maybe that’s the whole point. If things stayed the same would it feel like you were dating? Would you understand that you don’t have to hide your feelings anymore? That you can kiss him and be jealous of him? If things stayed the same, would you let yourself love him freely?

“So she kissed you”, Chan points out, eyes squeezed, trying to make sense of the situation, “and she hasn’t talked about it since?”

“Yeah”, Jisung pouts, “but in her defense, I told her I didn’t need an answer immediately”

“And that was your mistake”, Hyunjin says, “you have anxiety, you always need answers immediately”

“Well, you’re not wrong”, Jisung sighs, “but I didn’t want her to feel pressured. Especially since it looked like she was about to run away if I said anything abrupt”.

“I guess she’s just confused”, Chan tries to help, “but the fact that she kissed you is a good sign”

“You think so?” Jisung looks at his older friend with puppy eyes, hopeful.

“Yeah, of course”, Chan chuckles.

“You know what?” Changbin comes in from the kitchen, he’s been listening to the whole story but didn’t say a thing until now. “You should do something romantic for her”

“Like what?” Jisung asks.

“Think about something that would be touching, something that has to do with your story together”, Chan advises, making the youngest think.

Jisung frowns, there's something that comes to mind but would you like that? Until now, he has tried to be subtle in his ways of approaching you. He wakes up earlier than you everyday and makes you eat before you go to class. He's always home when you come back at night, waiting with snacks and a movie for you two to watch together. You have been discovering a new side of him, even though you thought you knew everything about your best friend, but now Jisung watches you with heart eyes.

Would you like it if he was more romantic? He’s not even sure if you’re into that kind of thing, the boyfriends you had never made big gestures like that and you didn’t seem to care. Would you like it if it's him doing it? Well, it doesn’t hurt to try.

“Okay, I think I know what to do”, Jisung decides.

You still haven't given an answer to Jisung and that's making you feel bad, what's holding you right now? You know he likes you, but what if things don't work out, will you be able to keep being friends after all that?

To take your mind out of that for a bit, you finally graduate, after what it felt like ages. You poured all your blood, sweat and tears in the years that you spent in college, now you're finally free.

Jisung's parents and yours came to the city for your graduation celebration. You organized a dinner in a good restaurant and the night was so much fun, you laughed till your stomach hurt and your friends brought up all your embarrassing stories through all the years you spent in college.

The morning after you had trouble even opening your eyes, any light was too much and your eyes refused to open. You hear a few knocks on the door of your room, making you groan, telling the person — Jisung probably, to enter.

“You should get ready”, he says, making you frown, eyes still closed. “Don't pretend that you're still sleeping, it's afternoon”, he whines.

“I'm not pretending, my eyes can't take this much light”, you explain, you shouldn't have drank so much.

Jisung walks past you, going to the window and closing the blinds.

“Now you have no excuses”, he teases, watching as you flutter your eyes open slowly.

“Why do I need to get ready, though?” You ask, sitting down.

“We are going out”

“We are?”

“Yes, so get ready”, he informs you, walking past you in the direction of the door and leaving with no further explanation. What's this guy planning now?

You get up, grab a towel and a change of clothes and go to take a shower, knowing that arguing won't take you anywhere.

Jisung is waiting for you in the car, a cup of coffee and a sandwich waiting for you.

“Shall we?” He asks, turning on the engine when you enter the car and close the door.

“Couldn't we have had breakfast inside?” You ask, biting on the sandwich.

“It's not a breakfast if it's already afternoon”, he rolls his eyes, “I ate a long time ago and we are already late”

“Late for what?” You enquiry, sipping on the coffee.

“It's a surprise”, he grins, eyes focused on the road.

You sigh, knowing that he won't tell you, so you just finish eating while watching the scenario change, buildings turning into threes and farms.

“Don't you know how to plan dates in the city?” You ask, making him laugh.

“I do, but I wanted to do something specific on this date and I had a bit of trouble finding it”, he tells you.

The sun is already starting to set when Jisung parks in front of a school, making you from, what kind of date is this? You ask, trying to understand, until you see a crowd.

You get out, walking by yourself while Jisung locks the car, hearing his footsteps after you a few seconds later.

“What's this?” You ask, when you see the booths spread around the campus and the families and students walking around.

“A school festival”, he smiles, watching as you turn to look at him, confusion in your face. “A little bird told me that you found out about your feelings for me right around the time I took Haneul to the school festival on elementary school”, he bites on his bottom lip, “and you were there to witness my first date, even though you liked me”, he sighs, “so I thought that maybe I could make it up for that time by bringing you to a school festival, just me and you”, he explains, making your heart skip a bit. You never thought Jisung could be this romantic, you never knew you liked this kind of romantic stuff either, but the way your heart is beating makes you think that you do.

“I- Jisung I-”, you try to say but you can't form a coherent sentence, making him smile.

“Let's go, I got a lot of prizes to win for you”, he informs, stretching his hand in your direction so you can hold it and you do, you hold his hand without a second thought, ignoring his red ears and how hot your cheeks are.

You walk around the place, going to every booth, watching the performances and eating to your heart's content. Jisung is giving you food like his life depends on it, it's a mission of his to make you eat everything you set your eyes on and when you can't finish he does it for you, but he wants you to try everything.

“How are we supposed to carry all this?” You ask, arms full of the plushies he earned you.

“Like we are doing right now”, he answers, as if he has not been dropping the ones he's carrying all the time.

“You know the children must hate you, right?”

“It's not my fault if I have the power of love to help me win the big prizes”, he winks at you, making you feel your cheeks hot.

“Let's go, it's already late”, you tell him, walking faster in the direction of the car so Jisung won't notice how flustered you got.

You stuff the plushies in the backseat, feeling a few drops of rain fall on your face when you close the door, making you run to the passenger seat to escape. Jisung comes right after you, starting the car and driving back to the road.

“Can you check the forecast? I did it in the morning and there was nothing about rain”, he asks, the rain outside getting stronger.

“Sure”, you take your phone out of your pocket, searching for news about the weather. “It seems like it's one of those rains that start out of nowhere”, you explain, “and it's not going to stop any time soon”, you watch the dark road, little to no lighting.

“Should we look for a hotel, then?” Jisung asks, making you turn to him with wide eyes. “Hey! Don't get any weird ideas, we are going to separate rooms”, he informs you, covering his chest like you have the dirtiest mind.

“I didn't say anything”, you retort, crossing your arms.

“Hmph, but you thought”, he murmurs. “Can you look for a place nearby?” He asks but you were already doing that.

There's a nice hotel a few minutes from where you are and when you call them, they tell you there are rooms available but when you get there things are different.

“So… they only have a room”, you say, fidgeting.

“It's fine, I can sleep on the floor”, he shrugs, pressing for the elevator to come to you.

“Actually there are separate beds, so there's no need”, you chuckle, seeing his ears turning red.

“Great, that's great. My back appreciates it”, he rumbles, flustered like an idiot making you laugh.

The rain seems to get worse outside, now adding thunder and lightning to the chaos. The room is comfortable and clean, there's a bathroom and a minibar so you can eat something.

You take your coat, throwing it in one of the beds and walk to the window, closing the blinds and shivering watching the lightning outside. Jisung opens the fridge, looking inside to see if there’s anything interesting to eat and grabbing a bottle of water.

“Do you want it?” He asks, making you turn to look at him and nod, waiting as he walks to you, handing you the bottle.

“I think we should get to sleep soon, so we can go back early tomorrow”, you say, gulping the water and Han nods, finishing his.

You two get on your beds, it's weird to sleep in the same room as him after so long. You turn your back to him, hoping that not seeing his face is going to make it easier for you to sleep.

However, a thunder rumbles so loudly sounding like it's right by your room's window, making you jump.

“Jeez”, you squeal, covering your face with the blanket.

“Are you alright?” Jisung's voice sounds behind you, making you turn to look at him. He's staring at you, brows knit together in worry.

“I'm fine”, you tell him, even though you're not so sure.

“I know you're afraid of storms”, he sighs, biting on his bottom lip. “Do you want me to lay down with you? So you won't be so scared?”

You feel heat spreading all over you just by thinking about sleeping in the same bed as Jisung. You slept together a hundred times before so it shouldn't be so embarrassing to do it once more, but you're not sure if you're going to be able to behave if you go there.

“There's no need”, you tell him, closing your eyes and trying to fall asleep when another thunder sounds out there, seeming so much louder than before and making you jump again. “You know what? I think I'll accept your offer”, you say, watching as Jisung sits down, grabbing his pillow and blanket, standing up to move to your bed. He lays down so far from you that he's almost falling from the mattress.

“I won't bite you”, you roll your eyes, turning to look at him, facing the middle of the bed.

“I wouldn't mind if you did”, he chuckles, “I just don't want to make you uncomfortable”, he says and even with the darkness of the room, you can see his cheeks reddening when he gets closer.

“You won't make me uncomfortable, it's okay”, you put your arm down your pillow and the other one on top, your hand beneath your head, watching as Jisung fidgets, trying to find a good position without touching you. “Do I make you uncomfortable?” You enquiry, seeing as his eyes widen and he shakes his head frantically.

“Not at all, you're the person whom I feel the most comfortable with”, he confesses, making your cheeks burn and something more spread through your whole body.

Maybe things need to change. What then, if things don't workout? If you were going to think that way, you should have never confessed to your best friend in the first place. You decided to risk it all when you told him about your feelings and now he's the one pouring himself to you, waiting for you to choose him once more.

“If I asked you to kiss me now, would you?” You ask, gulping down, trying to stay calm even though your heart just turned into a hammer in your chest.

“Can I?” He asks, hopeful, watching as you nod slowly. His hands cup your face and in the split of a second his lips are on yours, his fingers caress your cheeks delicately and he holds you like you're the most fragile thing in the whole world.

This kiss is so much better, kissing him while being certain about what you're feeling is delightful. His kiss is still soft and sweet, yearning and hungry as if he's been waiting for this for a long time.

You slide your hands down his shirt, going to his back and digging your nails on his skin. He sighs on your lips, letting a little groan escape his mouth. Jisung's hands go down from your face too, sliding to your waist and hips to pull you closer to him, pressing your body against his.

When you two find it too difficult to breathe, he pulls away from you, trailing kisses down your jaw and your neck, biting on your soft skin, making you moan. Your eyes widen in embarrassment but Jisung looks at you with dark eyes, licking on his lips.

“You sound so good, please don't hold back”, he pleads, going back to marking you. “Can I take it off?” He asks, grabbing the hem of your shirt, making your whole face burn as you nod, sitting down so he can pull the piece of fabric out of your body. He watches as your chest rises and falls, you lay back down, looking around extremely flustered but he can't take his eyes out of you. You're the prettiest woman he ever got to know and he's so in love with you that it feels like his heart is about to explode.

Jisung leans closer to your face, kissing you again as you let your hands wander through his body, sliding them to his hips and digging your nails on his skin, pulling him against you, feeling his length pressing on your thigh.

“You're so pretty”, he sings praises as he kisses down your collarbone, reaching your breast and his hands go to your back, undoing your bra.

“Stop staring”, you feel your cheeks burning with the way his eyes wander through your chest.

“I can't, you're too beautiful”, he answers, leaning down do suck on your hardened peaks.

“Ji-Jisung”, your hands fly to his hair as you press him against your breasts, “that's so good”, you sigh, feeling his tongue circling around your nipple.

Jisung starts humping against your clothed core, making you gasp and groan as your hands cup his face, bringing him back to kiss you. He doesn't stop the movements of his hips, rubbing his hard cock and sighing on your lips.

“Can I eat you out?” He asks, biting on your bottom lip as he pulls away from you.

His eyes are dark like you have never seen, like he's in a daze but the reality is that Jisung is too drunk on your scent and your warmth to think about how lustful he may look at that moment.

“How much do you want it?” You tease, making him sigh, looking at you with puppy eyes, his hands going to the waistband of your pants, pulling it slightly away from your hips and playing with it, wanting to pull it down but waiting for your permission.

“I want to taste you so bad, you have no idea”, he bites on his bottom lip, “I feel like I might die if I don't feel your pussy clenching around my tongue right now”, he pleads, making your hips involuntarily thrust against his shaft, making him groan, “fuck. This is torture, please let me taste you, please”, he begs.

“I like it when you beg”, you try to pretend you're not dying to have his mouth down on you, “go ahead”

In a second Jisung is pulling your pants down, your panties going with it, he has no time to waste. He rushes to fit in between your legs, setting them over his shoulders as he kisses your inner thighs, trailing kisses closer and closer to your aching cunt.

“I can feel the scent of your arousal”, he teases, taking a deep breath, “You smell so good, baby”, he completes, making you groan in embarrassment.

“What are you, a dog?” You retort, trying to ignore the burning on your face.

“Only for you”, he grins before diving in on your pussy. Jisung attaches his mouth to your clit, the warmth of his tongue spreading all over your body and you lead your hands to his hair again, pressing him against your core. His fingers dig on your thighs like he wants to mark you, putting more strength on the way his face sticks between your legs.

“Jisung- fuck, Sungie”, you whine feeling his arm moving, his finger being inserted inside your folds. He thrust them in and out, eyes closed as he enjoys your taste, the way your juices spill all over the bed sheets, he wants every bit of it in his mouth but there's just too much, he can't have it all. It's okay though, he's planning to lick you clean everyday from now on, every time he makes you come on his tongue, he's not going to let any of your juices go to waste.

He puts another finger inside you, finally opening his eyes when he feels your walls fluttering around his knuckles.

“Fuck, are you gonna cum baby?” He asks, the look of pleasure in your face is so much that he has to hump against the bed to get some relief, his cock is throbbing so much, he feels he can cum just by looking at you.

“Y-hmm”, you are unable to form a whole word, the feeling spreading all over your body is too overwhelming, it's making you dazed and you can't think properly but you nod to him, hoping Jisung can understand that he shouldn't stop, not right now.

“Shit, y/n, come for me, please, I want to taste you coming on my tongue”, he tells you, going back to licking your cunt. He can feel the moment you cum, not just because you moan so loudly he thinks the other people on that floor can hear it but because your hole gets tighter around his fingers. You arch your back, hands going to the sheets as you grab them for dear life.

As you come down from your high, you're embarrassed to open your eyes. You never thought Jisung was one to do the whole dirty talking thing but if you think about it, there are quite a couple of things you didn't know about him.

You feel his kisses coming up your stomach, forcing you to open your eyes, you prop up on your elbows, watching him sneaking closer to you.

“Was it good?” He asks and you feel your whole face burning again but you nod anyways, feeling breathless when he smiles brightly, ears turning red.

You're ready to ask something but the huge bulge in his pants makes you gulp, staring for a second until his eyes follow yours and he blushes, turning with his stomach down so he can hide that part from you.

“Can I suck you off too?” You ask, licking your lips, suddenly eager to feel him coming on your mouth.

“I- I really want you to”, he clears his throat, looking around embarrassed, “but I don't think I'm gonna last long if I feel your pretty lips around me”, he says, making a huge smile grow on your lips.

“I never thought you'd be such a sweet talker in bed”, you confess, still squirming to his words.

Jisung smiles, leaning closer to you know, his chest pressed against yours and his length brushing on your leg.

“So, did you thought about how it would feel like if I fucked you?” His eyes darken again.

“I mean, lately you have been showing too much skin, it would be impossible for me not to have any dirty thoughts”, you confess.

“Fuck”, he groans, “do you want to keep goin?” He asks, kissing your neck, going up to your jaw and then your lips, “I don't have a condom but I'm sure we can make it work without putting it in”, he stares at you expectantly.

You feel the warmth on your lower stomach spread to all your body, shouldn't you feel less turned on now that you came?

“I- I'm on the pill, so…” you start saying and his eyes widen to your suggestion.

“Are you sure, it's okay if we don't-”

“I want to”, you assure him, “I want to feel all of you inside me, you have no idea how much I want to”, you plead and Jisung breathes a laugh, he's glad to see you're as desperate as he is.

“Okay”, he nods, “but if you want to stop at any time just tell me”, he says as he gets up from the bed to take his pants and underwear off.

When Jisung cock springs out of his underwear, hitting his stomach, you can't hold the moan that escapes your lips as you watch how painfully hard he is. He crawls back to your side, letting his hand rest on your stomach as he kisses you again.

“Do you have a position you want to be in?” He asks, shyly, as if you both are not fully naked in front of each other.

“I'd like to stay on top if it's okay”, you whisper and he nods.

“Yeah, I'd love that”, he says, laying down after giving you a peck on the lips. You take a deep breath before kissing him too, mouth trailing down his jaw and neck. You mark him, giving him hickeys all around his chest.

Jisung cups your face, bringing your lips to his as you throw a leg over his hip, rubbing your wet folds on the length of his cock, that small stimulation making you moan.

“Shit, you're so hot”, he whines, biting on his bottom lip as he stares at you. You chuckle, grabbing his shaft and positioning it on your entrance, closing your eyes and sighing to the mere pressure of his head splitting your foulds in a half. You sink down on his cock, moaning loudly, feeling him stretching you out perfectly.

“Oh- oh, this is so good, fuck”, you whine, letting yourself get used to the feeling.

“You're so tight”, he groans, hands going straight to your hips, digging his fingers on the flesh. “It feels so good inside you”

Jisung closes his eyes, overwhelmed with you, it's too much, your warmth is hugging him, making him whine and groan like an animal. But he wants you to feel as good as he's feeling, so he takes one of his hands from your hip to your mouth, brushing his middle and index fingers on your lips.

“Suck on them, baby”, he asks, making you moan and do as you're told. Jisung grins, taking his hand down to your core and pressing them on your clit, making circles around the puffy bud.

“Ah- Sungie, that's- that's too much”, you whine riding him slowly, feeling your orgasm growing at each passing second. The knot on your stomach ready to burst when you feel his cock throbbing inside you, making you open your eyes to look at him.

He's stunning even coming undone beneath you, Jisung has his lips partially open, his hair stuck on his sweaty forehead and his moans are just like music to your years, the prettiest sound he ever made and it's just yours now, it's just for you to hear it.

“I'm gonna come! Y/n, I'm gonna come”, he warns you so you can get off him if you want to but you sink deeper, causing him to reach his orgasm, spilling his hot cum inside you. You follow him shortly when he puts more pressure on your clit while he's coming, making you tremble and moan as you spasm with pleasure.

You fall down on his chest, feeling Jisung's arms wrap around you as he gently lays you down by his side. He pulls the blanket to cover you and gives you a kiss on the top of your head as he watches you blinking into sleep.

Jisung wakes up to an empty bed. His hand wanders through the sheets, searching for your warm body to snuggle in as he opens his eyes but he finds nothing, just a cold space.

He sits on the bed to look around, trying to find you but you're nowhere to be seen and suddenly dread takes over him. Did you go home? Did you leave him behind? Did you regret spending the night with him?

Those thoughts break his heart, he looks around once more just to make sure he's not mistaken and you're actually there with him. He gets up, putting on sweatpants and walking to the bathroom. He knocks a few times, hoping that you're there, that you're going to tell him to wait because you're in there but no sound comes back to him and when he opens the door the space is empty.

Jisung sits down on the edge of the bathtub, he wants to cry. He shouldn't have expected you to stay with him just because you spent one night together, he should have known that, but why does it hurt so much? Why does he feel like a part of his heart was ripped out?

He sighs, guessing this is your answer to his confession. Could you still be friends after what happened last night? He can't be sure. He goes around the room, collecting the rest of his things and finishing getting dressed, couldn't you have waited for him? The keys are still on the table, so how did you go home without the car?

When he's grabbing said keys though, the room's door swings open, welcoming in a very sweaty you.

“Ah, you're up?” You pout, “I thought I would be able to come back before you woke up”, you smile. How can you smile like that when you just broke his heart? How could you have disappeared?

“You came back?” He asks, arms falling limp by his sides. He stares at you with the eyes of a wounded puppy and that's when you know you did something you shouldn't.

“Yeah? You thought I left you?” You tease, trying to be funny but when he sulks, eyes growing glossy, it sinks in. “You did”, you come to the conclusion, closing the door behind you.

You walk to Jisung, putting the bag you have in your hands on the table.

“I went to buy breakfast but it turns out there aren't many places that sell decent food around here”, you explain, “it ended up taking more time than it was supposed to, I should have left a note. I'm sorry”

“I thought you had decided that you didn't want to stay with me”, Jisung whines, “that after last night you found out that I'm not enough for you anymore. That I really ruined everything”, he cries out, a single tear running down his cheek.

“Jisung, of course I wouldn't leave you behind even if I had decided I didn't want to date you”, you tell him, grabbing his hand and squeezing it, trying to give him some reassurance.

“I was even preparing a speech in my head”, he pouts, “about how even if we don't date I'd still see you the same way. I'd be by your side forever even if it's not romantically, I'd be happy to watch you live your life, even if it's with someone else as long as you were happy”, he tells you. “Your love was already something I couldn't reach so I'm grateful that you gave me the chance to show you how much I love you”

“So you're going to be happy even if I marry someone else?” You question, making him sulk even more.

“I won't be happy but if you're that's enough for me”

“But I wouldn't want my boyfriend to be happy that I'm marrying someone else”, you tell him, smiling slightly as you watch the sentence you just said sink in on him and the sparkling grow in his eyes.

“Bo-boyfriend?” He asks, hesitant.

“Of course, or did you think I'd smash then dash?” You chuckle, his cheeks turn red and he pouts pulling you closer with the hand you have holding yours.

“So you love me back, right?” He questions, making you smile, nodding.

“I do”

“‘Cause I love you so much it feels like my heart is about to burst”, he says, putting your hand on his chest, his heart beating like crazy, making you smile. “Then, do you want to be my girlfriend?”

“Ye-”, his lips are on yours before you can finish the sentence, making you sigh, just forgetting about the breakfast and also to check out, calling the reception and updating your stay for another half day.

When you show up at Jeongin’s birthday holding hands and looking lovey dovey, everyone sighs relieved and you have to hear Minho’s and Seungmin's sarcastic ass saying “finally” and “I thought I would die before you two would finally fuck”, respectively.

Your daily life with Jisung went about almost the same as before, except that now you'd basically share the same room, you'd rarely sleep in yours. You make food and take it to the company when he's too busy, sometimes you even stay there till late in the night, waiting for him to finish recording so he can come home with you and cuddle in bed until you two fall asleep.

Your parents don't make a big deal about it, you swore your father would make you move to another place after the news came out but he just sighed, telling you that he knew this would happen someday and that he's happy you are dating someone as good as Jisung.

A few months go by and your relationship is still going smoothly. Of course you have some arguments here and there but nothing that you can't fix with a conversation.

You accepted the proposal of the guys to go touring with them and that's how you ended up in their dressing room, waiting for them to get back there after their last show on the tour.

The door opens and you hear the boys' loud voices coming in, greeting them and telling how nice the show was.

“You see how hard your future husband works?” Jisung brags, walking up to you and pulling you aside. He wraps his arms around you and you feel your cheeks burn, you still feel flustered to hear him saying this kind of thing.

“Future husband?” You tease, giggling as he pouts, frowning.

“Yeah, or do you let any man do this to you?” He pulls you closer and gives you a peck on the lips.

“Maybe?” You tease, making him stare at you with his brows raised, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

“It seems like you need some punishment”, he sighs, looking at his hands before attaching them to your stomach, tickling you.

“Stop!” You scream, laughing and trying to get away from him.

“Say you're only mine”, he pouts, tickling you even more.

“Jisung, I'm gonna kill you”, you struggle to say between giggles.

“I'll die happily if you say I'm the only one for you”, he pushes, pressing his fingers even harder against your stomach.

“Okay, alright”, you give in, making him stop to look at you. “You are the only one for me and I'm all yours, happy?” You roll your eyes, watching his pout turning into a big smile.

“Say it one more time”, he whines.

“I love you”, you say, making Jisung stare at you for a moment, before his cheeks start turning pink.

“I'll never get tired of hearing that”, he smiles, holding your hand and bringing it to his mouth for him to kiss. “I love you”, he says, leaning in for a kiss, the sweetest you have ever shared.

A/N: If you like my work, please don't forget to reblog, it really helps my stories reach new people so more readers can come to enjoy what I write.

If you want to support me you can also buy me a coffee ☕

Taglist(in red are the ones I couldn't tag): @hhwangsmoon @weareapackofstrays @shycreationdreamland @adestayskz @skizmee @ca11me3mily @realviviboss @sofix-hc7 @starsandrqindrops @itshannjisung @redstayrosie @mae-is-cute98 @blithevix @astro-doll-the-star @captainchrisstan @rag-iii @notastraykid @jisunghannie @applepie-macaroon @stayingdelulu @sundayysunshine @kidrauhlschik @wolfennracha @meloncremesoda @hanschimpmunk @realrintaro @teejisung @maexc @gyustarzzi @ivaneedssleep @chaeryred @daemon-bunny @broken-glowsticks @ch4nniebang @sleepyleeji @seukijeuxq @luvbangchan @lovesunshinefelix @hyunjins-dimples @castielsfrillywhiteknickers @armystaytiny @literallyjustwanttoread @jungkookies1002 @diorggukie @channieandhisgoonsquad @mamabymychem @ladylexis @bmnyy

443 notes · View notes

futureman · 10 months

Text

keep it on the low

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: just because you and joel broke up doesn't mean you can't still (secretly) enjoy each other's company

warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, hurt/angst, ex!joel, possessive!joel, pwp, smut, post-breakup sex, rough sex, mild exhibitionism

word count: 3k

a/n: all i can say is oops. blame sza, i guess. and of course, couch gif for obvious reasons. as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated!

Joel’s being obvious again. Discretion’s never been his strong suit, but he’s especially attuned to you today, and not in a good way. He’s not undressing you with his eyes, itching for the moment he can take you home like he usually is.

Nope, he just looks irritated as fuck. Way too angry for someone who just happens to be sitting in the same room as his ex. If he keeps this up, you’re going to get caught, and then what are you going to do? Fuck other people?

Like that’ll ever happen. You and Joel broke up almost three months ago and yet here you are, still hooking up like there’s no one else in this town to have sex with. But you have an agreement…sort of. You keep sleeping together, you don’t talk about it, and you definitely don’t tell anyone else. It’s high school-level dramatic and, honestly, you’re both way too old for this shit.

You know everyone’s gossiping about you behind your back, trying to figure out why you’re not together anymore. It was a bad breakup, probably the worst you’ve ever had and the biggest Jackson’s ever seen. The second this town hall is over, they’ll all be chatting amongst themselves, analyzing your behavior like it’s any of their business.

And Joel’s only giving them more to talk about. Seriously, why is he staring at you like that? If you can keep your eyes to yourself for an hour, surely he can at least pretend to be listening to what Maria’s saying, even though it’s boring as hell and doesn’t apply to either of you in the slightest. The winter dance next week really isn't your thing, no offense to her, but at least you're trying to look interested.

You shoot him a quick glare across the room, and he rolls his eyes, finally shifting his focus elsewhere. Apparently, that little interaction is all it takes to stir up the gossip mill because you can already hear a few of the worst offenders whispering to each other.

Fucking vultures. You’re pretty sure half of them are trying to make a move on Joel now that you’re over. Too bad he’s still busy spending his nights buried inside you.

The meeting ends pretty quickly after that, and everyone gets up from their seats, some staying to help put away folding chairs and others loitering around before they head to dinner. Somehow, Joel ends up next to you as you’re walking out, probably on purpose, and you take the opportunity to tell him off.

“Way to be fucking obvious, asshole,” you mumble, hoping no one else can hear you. “Did you have to stare at me like that? You made it seem like I spat in your fucking coffee this morning.”

He scoffs loudly, and you elbow him in the side, throwing him a warning glance. He’s acting like he wants everyone to know what you’re trying so hard to hide and it’s really starting to piss you off.

“Wasn’t lookin’ at you any sorta way, darlin’. You’re the one makin’ a fuss and gettin’ everyone’s attention,” he smirks. It’s not even fair how good he looks when he does that.

You feel a strong urge to slap it off his face, but that’s not really an option right now. An annoyingly intrusive thought tells you to save it for later when you’re alone, but you push it to the back of your mind. He’d probably enjoy that, anyways.

You quirk an eyebrow as subtly as you can. “…Are you kidding me? I wasn’t the one glaring at you the entire meeting.”

He looks around pointedly. “Ya think you’re not makin' it worse right now?”

You pause to take in your surroundings, and he’s right. You’re making a scene unnecessarily when you could’ve just ignored him and gone home like you’d planned. This is exactly why everyone thinks the breakup was your fault. Why they all think you're the villain in his story.

Joel knows just how to bring out the worst in you and you hate it. It’s one of the reasons you broke up in the first place. He pretends like everything’s fine and nothing’s ever his fault, and you’re constantly tricked into proving him right. But today he’s being purposely antagonistic and you can’t tell why.

“Oh, fuck you, Joel,” you grit through your teeth. “Stay the fuck away from me.”

He doesn’t.

Not even a few hours later, he’s at your back door—like always, so no one sees him come and go—eyeing you a little wildly. Hungrily. And suddenly, it all makes sense.

He's horny. Probably has been all day, judging by his behavior earlier. He doesn’t say anything, just lurches forward to kiss you, to get his hands on you, but your arms shoot out to stop him.

“Uhh, what are you doing? Pretty sure I told you to leave me the fuck alone.”

He’s already panting as if he ran all the way here, but the tent in his pants tells you otherwise. His heart is racing under your palms, and while you haven’t forgotten how furious you still are, the fact that he’s this desperate for you makes you want to.

"Yeah, but ya didn't mean it. Ya never mean it,” he says like he knows you so well. You hate that he does, but the last thing you’re going to do is admit it.

“Why the fuck would I say it if I didn't?" you scoff.

"'Cus it's more fun that way," he leans in again, but you jerk your head back. Is he serious? It’s not like you normally have a nice little chat before you fuck, but he usually has more patience than this.

“Joel, stop. Are you trying to get us caught?” you eye him incredulously. It’s dark out and, yeah, you’re not having this conversation on the porch where anyone can see you, but other people’s windows still face your yard. He’s acting ridiculous.

"Maybe I wanna get caught,” he replies smugly, crowding you against the door. “Maybe I want everyone to know who ya belong to.”

His eyes are unreadable, and you’re caught between shock and intense curiosity. But then, that familiar feeling of fury returns, and you allow that to win out. You reach behind you for the doorknob, twisting it open to back inside.

“No. Nope, that’s not happening today,” you say with finality, yanking him by the collar into the house. You shove his back against the door, slamming it shut, and your grip tightens on his shirt. He’s smirking again, and it somehow looks even better on his face now than it did earlier.

“There’s my girl,” he breathes out, his hands finding your waist to pull you closer. It sends an unwitting wave of heat through you, a gasp escaping your lips before you can stop it. Fuck. He hasn’t called you that since before the breakup. Because it hasn’t been true since then, or at least that’s what you tell yourself.

“Only in here. Right, Joel?” He nods his head slowly, but his eyes betray him. He doesn’t believe that for one second.

“Sure, darlin’. Whatever you say.”

And, for now, that’s enough for you. You crash your lips into his hard enough to bruise and he groans into your mouth, rocking his hips into your belly so you can feel him straining in his jeans. It’s a little dizzying knowing just how much he wants you. How much he always wants you.

Flipping your positions to lead him backward, you reach down to unbutton his pants, your lips still moving languidly against his. Your fingertips purposely skim his bulge as you tug down his zipper, and he bucks into your hand, something soft and needy rumbling out of his chest.

More layers of clothing are stripped off and thrown haphazardly on the floor, leaving a trail from the kitchen to the living room, until the backs of his legs bump into the couch. All that's left now are his boxers, your underwear, and your bra. You make quick work of the latter yourself, dropping it to the floor, and then kick off your underwear, smirking at the look of sheer yearning on his face.

He reaches out to touch you, fingertips only managing to graze the side of your breast before you slap his hand away. He's not allowed to touch you until the playing field is even and he's as bare as you are. He already knows that.

His eyes are so dark, pupils dilated until that gentle brown has almost completely disappeared, and the way he's looking at you is reminiscent of a different time. You ignore it, focusing on all of the things you know he's about to do to your body instead. It'll help you forget whatever you just recognized in his gaze for a little while.

You tug on the waistband of his boxers, letting them snap back into his hips.

"Off," you tell him simply, giving him enough time to pull them down before you shove him onto the cushions. You climb into his lap, hands settling on his shoulders as you lower yourself down to drag your wet folds across his cock.

He hisses a breath through his teeth, his fingers digging into your hips to guide you, and you let him slick himself up against your pussy. He's so hard below you, looking painfully and almost angrily red at the tip. You sigh at the repeated friction on your clit and he twitches at the sound, dribbling precum that immediately mixes with your wetness.

"Need to be inside you. Now," he moans breathily, burying his face between your tits. He turns his head slightly to nip at the sensitive skin, and you tremble, trailing a hand up the side of his neck to bury in his soft curls. "You ready for me, darlin'?"

You nod quickly, chest heaving as you lift enough to reach down and wrap your fingers around him. Pumping him a few times, you drag the tip between your folds before lining him up with your entrance. He pants damply into your chest, more precum leaking out in anticipation.

And then you're dropping onto him, crying out loudly as you impale yourself on his cock. His hips shoot up off the couch, forcing himself deeper into your cunt, and he lets out a pained whoosh of air, adjusting to you as much as you are to him.

"Shit, that's—," he chokes out a moan as you start to move, "—tight. Fuckin' grippin' me, Christ."

You purposely squeeze him a little harder, exhaling sharply out your nose when his nails bite into your skin.

"Yeah, because you barely fucking fit," you tease breathily.

But it's more than that. You mold around him like you were made to take it, soft sighs leaving your lips as you ride him slowly. He fits perfectly, something that took precious time, his cock finding a home inside you over and over, reshaping your walls in his image. The lock to his key.

You bury that thought, too—with every swivel of your hips, every brush of your clit against his skin. He latches onto your breast, sucking a nipple into his mouth as you continue to work him.

His eyes flutter shut, hands beginning to guide you up and down a little faster as he swirls searing circles around the nub until it peaks. He tugs at it sharply with his teeth and you gasp, a spear of heat lancing through your spine as you gush around him.

It all feels so…fuck, he knows exactly how you like it. And both of you can hear how much you like it, feel how sticky you're making his lap. The slide around his cock is wet and easy, and your pussy's gripping him even tighter, but you need…god, you need—

"Joel, fuck me—come on, fuck me," you whimper, tugging him away from your tits by his hair, and he responds immediately. Taking over, he establishes a frantic, steady rhythm, lifting you until just the tip is inside, and forcing you back down.

But it's still not hard or fast enough to satisfy the way he needs you right now. He wraps his arms fully around your waist to hold you in place, pistoning his hips into you, forcing increasingly louder haahs out of your chest.

"That's it, darlin', take it…take it," he groans, head tilting back so he can observe every subtle change of expression as he gives you exactly you asked for. He leans up to capture your lips, but it's not so much a kiss as an exchange of breath, soft and humid as you pant heavily into each other mouths.

It quiets you for a brief moment—potentially the best possible moment, because out of nowhere, you hear faint voices passing by outside. They're way too close for comfort, and you realize belatedly that you made a huge mistake earlier.

"W-wait, the curtains—shit, the curtains…ngh…are still open," you barely manage to gasp out. "Fuck, the windows are open."

It doesn't deter him in the slightest and, instead, spurs him on. "S'alright, it's dark in here. They can't see us," he rasps, keeping up his merciless pace.

Ducking his head down, he sucks hard on a sensitive spot—your favorite spot—right above your collarbone, and you whimper much louder than you mean to.

"They can still fucking hear us," you all but growl, feeling your thighs start to quake despite your growing panic.

"Good, let 'em," he laughs almost cruelly, and he sounds so possessive that it stuns you momentarily. He takes the opportunity to abruptly tug you off his lap and toss you onto your back across the cushions, fucking back into you before you can even process the shift in position.

Now that he's on top of you, pressing down with his entire weight, his pelvis grinds into your already swollen clit with every single thrust, and you can't help the wail that escapes your parted lips.

He doesn't hesitate to pull you close, hugging your head to his neck as if he's trying to block out the rest of the world. Everything and everyone, but you and him.

"Always so loud for me. C'mon, darlin', lemme hear ya," he murmurs into your hair, hips snapping into yours. "I know you can be louder than that. Scream for me."

And you do. There's nothing else you could've done anyway, not with how he's dragging against everything just right. Your hips desperately swivel into his, chasing that hot, slick friction every time he connects with you.

The slap-slap-slap of your skin on his becomes a deep, wet thock-thock-thock the closer you get, your pussy dripping pathetically down his cock, fluttering with your impending release. He can feel it, you know he can, because he's moaning loud enough to rival even you now. He ruts greedily into you, hitting so much deeper than before.

"Christ…you're gonna make me cum," he warns, voice wrecked, his face still buried in your hair. "Jesus fuckin'…" You keen into his neck, still desperately chasing your own high, but it's not enough.

"J-Joel, I need—," you try to tell him, but he cuts you off.

"—'m fuckin' cummin'. Fuck," he grunts roughly, tumbling over the edge before you get the chance. His hips slow even as he continues to punch his cock as deep as it'll go, flooding your pussy.

No. Shit—no, no, no. He can't slow down, not now. You're almost there—so fucking close. He has to keep going. Just a little bit longer.

"No, Joel, no," you sob, legs kicking up around his waist as you grind up into him needily, increasing your speed. "Please, harder…please, please. Keep going for me—"

You feel rather than hear the groan rumble in his chest as he resumes his previous, unforgiving pace, ramming into you almost painfully.

"'m gonna. Don't'chu fuckin' worry."

At that, your orgasm quickly crashes over you, and you don't even realize you're slapping a hand into his side, still begging him not to stop as you wring him dry.

It's deafening what erupts from your chest when you finally cum. There's no doubt anyone outside can hear everything. Every squelch, every squeal, even the couch creaking, being pushed to its absolute limit.

Joel's name leaves your lips breathily, repeatedly like a prayer. You're shaking like a leaf underneath him, and he pulls back to brush your hair out of your face so he can kiss you, tender and open-mouthed.

This, too, feels gut-wrenchingly familiar but, for some reason, you don't want it to stop. Right now, you don't want to forget how it makes you feel.

He pulls out slowly, shoving two thick fingers inside you before your pussy can leak your combined releases all over the couch, and the sigh that escapes you sounds both content and despairing. He notices right away. Of course, he does.

Watching him leave you after nights like this hurts so much worse lately. Maybe it's nostalgia. Or maybe it's the unavoidable emotional connection you feel when he's inside you.

Even though months have passed since you decided you'd be better off without each other, something inexplicable keeps bringing you back together. It's not just the sex and you know it, no matter how much you choose to pretend otherwise.

He knows it, too. He tells you all the time—in the softness of his kiss, his desire to please you, and his eyes, still only ever focused on you.

And, now, in the possessiveness of his words and actions. Of his touch.

He gazes down at you knowingly, as if he can see every one of your troubled thoughts in the cloudiness of your eyes. He's always been annoyingly good at that.

"Y'know, I don't have to leave just yet," he murmurs, brushing his nose gently against your cheek. "Only in here, right? You're still mine as long as we're right here."

You let him wrap you up in his arms, nodding into his warm, beautifully scar-riddled chest.

"I'm yours."

thanks for reading! 💕

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #joel miller

2K notes · View notes

mafiadad5 · 3 months

Text

arguments

Genre- smut (mdni), established relationship

Dom!Jaemin x fem!reader

Warnings- oral (male receiving), degradation, unprotective (wear protection plz…), hint of praise, cum eating, slight videography…, choking, hair pulling 18+,

Word count- 2.3k+

Summary- you and your bf got into an argument the night before, but you still have an attitude that he wants to knock out of you.

note- no proof read heheh, hope you like🎀

You loved how you and Jaemin's majors could work together.

All the partner work in your classes just prompted more time you got to spend with your boyfriend, and it helped that he had his own private filming studio. It was perfect, well almost perfect.

Yes the fact that you got to spend more time with him was nice, but whenever you got in fights it was always tense when you had to do projects together, and with your attitude it was almost inevitable that the arguments didn't grow bigger than they should've over little bickering, but Jaemin always tried to keep his cool with you, trying to deescalate the situation as best as he could so nothing major would happen between the two of you. This day was no different, yes the argument was a little heated the night before, but he thought he gave you enough time to cool off so you were in a better mood— he couldn't be more wrong.

"Okay go." He spoke, aiming the camera at you as you stood in front of a black back drop.

"Hi, I'm Y/n! Here is today's news report... the camera isn't even straight Jaemin. Can you please do it correctly?" He looked up at you, his eyebrows furrowing at the snarky comment as you looked up at him with a smug expression.

"Just try again." He said with a forced smile, nodding as he positioned his camcorder differently in his hand so he could get a better grip. He never got offended by advice or criticism from you, but he knew that you were doing it on purpose, and that pissed him off more than anything.

"Hi, I'm Y/n! Here's today's news report!... can I see it so far? To make sure it's ok?"

"Of course baby." He hummed, pulling up the video as you approached him. "There's something off." You said, standing beside him, watching the video of you. "You don't really sound confident and you look a little lost." Jaemin said, he was honestly trying to give you advice—petty actions aside, this was still a project for class so he wanted you to do your best. "I really didn't ask you." You said, his face filled with exasperation.

He was losing patience with you, he's so calm and just wants you to do well, but all you do is shit on him after arguments then act like nothing is wrong after he eats you out, and treats you well as an apology. Well he wants an apology too, but you're too stuck up and he was getting tired of it.

"Baby, please let's not do this right now, please. I'm really trying to be patient. I was just letting you know." He lowered his camera, turning to you trying to grab your hand, but you instantly pulled it away from his, looking at him. "No I just think it's funny that you go here for film, but I know how to work a camera better than you, I'm not the one who looks lost Jaemin... just letting you know."

He was beyond upset at this point, you knew that it deeply hurt him when people downplayed his hard work, and yet there you were using it against him.

"You should take my criticism so you don't look fucking stupid when we present." He scoffed, tension thickening the air as he slowly backed you into a wall, his voice was darker and it kind of scared you, you've never seen him like this before, the intimidation made your knees weak, all you wanted to do is pry and make him even more upset to see what would happen.

"You're nothing but a dumb fucking photographer, take my criticism."

The room grew silent for a little as he paused, his head tilting slightly as he looked at you with ruinous eyes. His mind filled with rage, he couldn't even think straight, backing you into the wall, his hand on your neck, pushing your head to the wall. His eyes were dark as he gripped you tightly, his knee pressing against your thigh pinning you down, causing you to gasp from the sudden physical contact.

"Am I?"

You looked at him, staying completely silent, your demeanor changing completely as his fingers teased the soft skin on your neck. "Jaem—" you let out a soft, accidental moan, a small smirk appearing on his face from your desperation.

"God you're so desperate." His voice was deep and dark. You looked at him with eyes of innocence while staying silent. "Nothing to say now, hmm?" His grip tightened on your neck, causing you to let out a silent gasp as his fingers dug into your skin.

"I've had it with your little attitude, your dirty little mouth. I've been way more lenient with you than I should've been, but it seems like you want me to use your filthy mouth, so I will." He pushed you on your knees in front of him, turning on the camera that was still in his hand, positioning it on you. "Pull down my pants." You didn't even hesitate, unbuttoning his pants, pulling them down to his ankles, along with his underwear.

You couldn't help wrapping your hands around his dick, ready to do anything he told you to do, eyes looking into his as a sinister smile crept onto his face. He grabbed your hair, yanking it up to make you look at him.

"Did I tell you to do that?" You removed your hands from him, shaking your head.

"Do exactly what you're told to do, don't be a greedy little slut, do you understand?" You nodded again, looking up at him with pretty doe eyes, causing a little smile from him.

"Look at my little cockslut on her knees all pretty for me."

He tugged your hair, pulling your head up higher to look at him. "Stick out your tongue." He spoke sternly, a look of lust appearing on his face as you stuck your tongue out. He grabbed the base of his dick, tapping his tip on your tongue, a smirk appearing on his face.

“Suck on it. Just the tip, and I swear if you go past the tip I will destroy your throat. Do you understand me?” You nodded, grabbing his length, holding it to your mouth, looking at him before putting it in. One thing you learned about Jaemin was that he always teased in a way, whether that be on you, or on himself. It drives him over the edge, the desperation and the feeling of anticipation when he teases you with his tip, and now was no different. You began sucking like he asked, causing a light breath to leave his mouth. His moans were silent as he gasped, positioning the camera steady on you, holding your hair as he watched the way your lips moved on his tip, the way your tongue swirled on his sensitive spot, it drove him almost insane, the feeling of wanting more.

The feeling of wanting more was definitely mutual though the way you accidentally went lower and lower, trying to sink yourself onto him. You never gave him head, he wouldn’t let you, he said that he wanted you first, so it was his job to please you, and that’s exactly what he always did. Now since you’ve finally tasted him you wanted to savor it. He tugged at your hair, pulling you off of him, giving you a distasteful look.

“What did I tell you?” He tugged your hair back a little more. “Not to go past.” You hummed quietly. “So why did you?” He said, letting go of your hair and grabbing your cheeks, smooshing them together, forcing you to look up at him.

“That’s the problem, you’re a desperate little whore who gets what she wants, when she wants it, it stops today.” He released your mouth, causing you to look at the floor.

“Jaem I’m sorry, I just wanted to taste you.” You mumbled out. He grabbed your hair again, lifting your head, tapping his tip on your glossy lips.

“Don’t worry, you will— open slut.” You opened your mouth and Jaemin didn’t hesitate, pushing his whole dick inside, letting out a stuttered groan. You choked, latching your lips around him as he thrusted in your mouth. You held onto his legs for support as he hit the back of your throat in a perfect rhythm. He let out curses and moans as you moaned around his dick, causing your throat to vibrate around his tip. “Dirty fucking slut, taking my dick so well.” He said gripping your hair harder, pulling you deeper and deeper.

Tears were dwelling in your eyes as he forced himself into your mouth roughly, still holding the camera steady on you. “Oh shit I’m about to cum.” He moaned out, looking at you with desperate eyes.

“Make me cum baby.” He cried out, throwing his head back as he sloppily moved your head up and down on his dick, pushing once more while letting out a choked moan. “Fuck.” He whimpered before you felt a warm liquid filling your throat, forcing you to swallow which sent a shiver down his spine. He took a few deep breaths before exiting out of your mouth, looking down at you again.

“Good fucking slut.” He slickly smiled, messily wiping the tears out of your eyes, the camera focused on you.

He was way more amused than he’d like to admit, he never knew how beautiful you were like this, under his control, but he loved how drunk you were off his dick and how your eyes sparkled and lips glossed after he fucked your throat out.

“Get up.” He said, setting down his camera. You got up, standing in front of him as his dark eyes looked into yours. “I’m sorry Jaemin.” You said. He backed you into the wall, turning you over so he was pressed against your backside. “Tell me how sorry you are.” He said, pulling down your skirt and underwear in one swift movement, grabbing your hips and pulling you lower half away from the wall closer to his. Your breathing got shaky as he positioned himself at your entrance.

“I’m sorry for treating you like shit.”

He hummed, pushing his tip in and out of your entrance causing little whines out of you. “Do you think you deserve to be fucked right now?” You shook your head no, a chill running through your spine as you heard his dark voice mixed with his teasing. “So why do you think I’m gonna fuck you?” He asked, sliding his dick up to your clit, slapping the sensitive spot softly. “Because I’m your little slut.” You said, causing a chuckle to come out of his mouth. “That’s right, my pretty little slut to destroy.”

He slid back to your entrance, pushing himself into you, causing you to let out a soft whimper. “Jaem—” you moaned out as he started going in and out of you faster. You held onto the wall. “You feel so fucking good.” He whispered in your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine, straight to your pussy. He started thrusting, punching your hips slightly as he held onto you, pushing you into the wall every thrust. He left wet kisses on your neck as he sped up the pace. “You like this huh, my dick all in your pretty little pussy?” His voice was breathy as he fought the moans that wanted to be released from his mouth as he went at an unimaginable speed, his thrust swift.

One of his hands moved to the back of neck, holding you as you moaned muffled sounds into the wall. Your skin flushed with pleasure as he hit your gspot, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as he thrusted harder, sweet sounds of lust filling the room from both of your bodies. His body moved aimlessly into yours, your walls sucking him in perfectly like a puzzle piece.

“Jaemin I’m about to cum.” You whimpered out. “If you want to cum you have to beg me, or I’ll stop.” The feeling of his hands on your body, his voice on your neck, made a resistant temptation that you couldn’t control, couldn’t fight. You didn’t care if you’ve never done it before, shit you didn’t even care if it was embarrassing, you just wanted him so bad at the moment so you would’ve done whatever it took.

“Please Jaemin, please let me cum, please.” He smiled into your skin, going even faster than before causing you to let out tired moans.

“You’re so desperate baby, it’s so cute.” His moans began to louden and his thrust started to get sloppier by the second. “Cum for me baby— fuck.” He moaned out loudly, the resistance around his dick from your clenching walls made him go insane, pushing him to his near. “I’m cumming Jaemin.” You cried out, holding the wall and closing your eyes tightly as your stomach tightened and your body started to shake uncontrollably.

You felt Jaemin’s cum spill inside of you as you both released, catching your breath. He exited out of you, his ooze dripping down your leg.

It was later on and you laid in his bed, looking at him as he walked into the room, looking at his camera.

“I’m actually sorry for being an ass Jaem.”

He looked up at you smiling, jumping in bed beside you. “It’s ok baby, next time you pull some bs I’ll pull this up.” He showed you the video of what he took earlier, looking at you as he smiled cutting off the camera and tossing it to the side.

“Jaemin stop.” You looked at him, flustered and embarrassed.

“You look cute Y/n. I love you baby, sorry for going hard on you.”

“I love you too Jaemin, and it was kinda hot I guess. You smiled.

566 notes · View notes

bluemerakis · 4 months

Text

┌── ˚*❀*̥˚ ─── ˚*̥❀*˚ ──┐

✐ᝰ bluemerakis

┗━━• ❃ ° •° ❀ °• ° ❃ •━━┛

❝ I’m the guy mothers warn you about, the son they’re afraid to have ❞

⇀ Word count: 15k words (sorry ☠️)

Guess who finally mustered up the courage to write a Coriolanus Snow fic, and holy shit, this might just be the longest once-off I’ve ever written.

My dear @quicksilversg1rl , this fic goes out to you 100x over. I hope this makes up for the fact that I couldn’t put Tom under your tree ☹️ I hope that it’s enough that I put him in your dreams instead <3

════════════════════════

WARNINGS:

dom!coriolanus, some out-of-pocket makes-you-go “wtaf💀” Coriolanus moments, smut, swearing, possessiveness, manipulation, toxic relationship, choking, pet names, degradation, edging, lots of italics and dashes (sorry I was feeling myself (not literally you sicko) ), masturbation, unprotected sex, cockwarming, dryhumping/wethumping(?), fingering/fisting, oral sex f receiving, the therapy you’ll need after reading these warnings

‼️DO NOT PROCEED IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH THE ABOVE-MENTIONED WARNINGS‼️

SYNOPSIS:

Coriolanus had always known you held potential to win the games, from the day he’d laid his eyes on you at the 10th annual reaping. You were the key he’d been missing all these years, and how he saw almost every opportunity unlocked by your presence at that year’s hunger games.

The secret of how he’d risen into power? The answer was much simpler than anyone had expected. You. Sure, Coriolanus had done his fair share of treason and murder to contribute to his status, but it was your victory that had granted him access to the Plinth fortune and made his ambitions possible. He wasn’t a man that liked to share credit, but he thought your performance in the games a worthy enough candidate.

To show you just how thankful he was, he’d invited you to live with him after the games, for however long you pleased, and he’d made it his mission to show you all the pleasures the Capitol and his lifestyle had to offer. He liked having you near him at all times, and he liked it even better when he was inside of you.

What he didn’t like, though? When you flirted with other men, especially when it served to get a rise out of him.

Coriolanus Snow doesn’t like sharing, and he doesn’t tolerate disobedience, either. You’d learn that lesson the hard way.

════════════════════════

Coriolanus was a man bred for purpose, like his father before him, and it was a purpose he often reminded you of—a means to keep your neediness at bay, to tame your urge to be at his side every waking hour of the day, a ploy to remind you just how little value you posed to him outside of a night of fleeting pleasure. He marvelled in the opportunity to make you feel insignificant, a false promise too-quickly forsaken the moment your existence captured another man’s desire—a man that wasn’t him.

In the midst of a party he’d rather not have attended, he watched you from a quiet corner of the venue hall, conversing away with a man he hadn’t had the displeasure of meeting just yet. He didn’t know whether you were honestly that painfully oblivious to the desires of the man before you, who clearly wanted nothing more than a taste of one of the renowned hunger games victors, or whether you had deliberately struck up a conversation to get a rise out of Coriolanus.

But when his eyes narrowed on your hand that reached to move a strand of your hair back to the security behind your ear, he knew then exactly which particular game you were playing.

You always did that when you felt subconscious—when you knew you were being watched. It was a tell that Coriolanus had come to identify the more time he’d spent observing you. He’d needed to—it was necessary in order to know the truths you would not tell him. Not out loud, at least. But now, he was pretty fluent in your body language, in more than one way.

He watched you tilt your head to the side in the slightest manner, an act that often sent all the conservativeness of men toppling over the edge. Your lip suctioned into a concentrated bite as you offered small, attentive nods—you were getting him to think you’re interested in what he has to say, pretending not to notice the way his eyes traced your lips and occasionally flickered across your peeping breasts.

The sight stirred an anger in Coriolanus, his fingers tightening around the glass of wine clutched in one hand. He lifted the wine to his lips, taking a sip as though it would somehow quench the imminent fire that threatened to take control of all reasonability. He couldn’t let you get a rise out of him, not in public where he had an image to uphold. Goddamn you and your games, he hated being the one to play it. That had been the fate of you and the districts, not him—Capitol-born and rich beyond imagination. Was this his retribution to pay? Sentenced to your little games after all he’d brought upon you?

You moved a hand to caress the man’s shoulder, offering a sweet giggle. And then there it was, the slightest glance in his direction, fleeting but an obvious beckon for attention. Coriolanus clenched his jaw as you purposefully turned your back on him, his eyes boring into your exposed shoulder blades, framed by a dress that paraded all the right aspects of your body—a dress he’d picked out for you. He hadn’t gone through all that effort to make you look so ravishing, only for another man to enjoy it. It had been for him, a reminder of what his prize would be after enduring this insufferable party.

He’d planned to rip it from you, as mercilessly as he could offer, to toss it onto the floor and you onto the bed, naked and accessible to whatever he desired. However, you seemed hellbent on denying him a good night. He watched you reach for the man’s hand, your motion suggestive as you tugged on him and began to lead him away from the mayhem.

Coriolanus knew exactly where you were taking him.

He watched you weave your way through the dancing bodies, the music falling into the background as he trailed your every move—the way the man blatantly admired the curve of your ass. What an unacceptable circumstance, to think his favourite toy was not his own limited edition—one only he could afford to play with. After all, why had he endured the battlefield of this unfair life to claim a reward that promised power and money and control, only to feel so helpless in his infatuation over you. He hated what primal need controlled him, rendered him incapable of letting you go.

What had it all been for? The poison, the betrayal, the heinous crimes he’d committed—all to prove that he bore no seal of humanity, felt no obligation to love, until you came along, making him look the fool each time you batted a devious lash or wrung those perfect lips around suggestive words. Each time you spoke was like fragments of an enchantment, slowly being made whole and taking its magical toll on his entire being, beginning to claim everything he was—making him obsess, making him weak.

The day he’d gotten you as his tribute, you’d had been nothing more than a mission—a means to secure a prize that would set him for life. But there had been something about you, something that had drawn him in like a sudden whirlpool, now he couldn’t escape the obsession you’d cursed him with. He’d never before felt the burden of caring about another person’s life, needing to know what they were up to at all times.

Coriolanus recalled seeing you for the first time, the day of the reaping, after the tributes had been transported to the Capitol. He remembered seeing you thrown into the zoo display—the way you had instantly found your feet and ran a hand through your hair, made unruly by a rough and sleepless night. Your brows were knitted closely together with unmistakable anger, a look that promised vengeance to the Capitol despite the silence on your lips. Your dress had been made ragged to match your hair, evidence that the bats had showed no mercy toward your pretty privilege. Maybe it had been your looks that had drawn them in, after all.

He’d been ready to deem you a lost cause, disappointed that once again, he’d been stuck with rigged odds. He had been convinced that somewhere beneath that shredded fabric on your skin, you bore the kiss of rabies, doomed to die like countless before you. But he’d seen a few of the other tributes, bearing the same tells of their struggle with the bats in their shredded clothes and tired eyes. One of those amongst the suffering had been your fellow district twelve tribute, Morgan Lark, and he had possessed the worst wounds out of all the affected.

It’d been less than a few hours until the wounded tributes started retching up fountains of white, their eyes glassy and their movements frantically lost on them. Yet there you had sat, watching with perfect control and composure as they had dwindled into mere husks of the people they used to be.

Coriolanus knew then that you had been different—stronger, a tribute that might just prove the risk to be worth it. He’d insisted on investigating the cart you’d been transported in, eager to know the truth behind your journey. Had you truly been strong enough to evade the consequences of the bats? The mystery of it all was pressing enough to consume his every thought. He needed to know. His future depended on it, depended on you.

That evening, after much persistence and a bribe that he honestly couldn’t have afforded, he’d gained access to your cart. There wasn’t much to look at, given that it was nothing more than an empty container, without even the courtesy of a blanket. The scene was almost hauntingly familiar, personal. Nonetheless, he’d paced the walls, eyes searching every aspect of the metal, every dent and hole in the floor. He’d found nothing other than a few rusty nails—nothing interesting, that is until he’d picked one of them up and inspected it closer to find its apex crusted with blood.

A few of the nails were identical in their blood-coating, not a coincidence. Coriolanus gathered them up into his father’s handkerchief, almost regretting the decision as the rust stained the symbolic, white fabric. He placed them cautiously into his blazer pocket, scanning the cart one last time before making his departure. He made a beeline to the morgue, where the bodies of the five infected tributes had been placed shortly after their passing. He needed to see Morgan Lark’s body, to know what secret you could have hidden in his death.

Once he’d gained access to the corpse, he’d pulled back the white covering. A strong waft of formaldehyde greeted his senses and burned his eyes teary. He had been surprised that the body was being preserved, though he didn’t doubt that Dr. Gual had plans to somehow extract and weaponise the rabies in the next games. The chemicals had instantly become so overwhelming that he had to pull his handkerchief from his pocket, empty the rusted nails onto the tray and cover his mouth and nose with the fabric to keep his nausea at bay.

Coriolanus studied the corpse, struggling to contain his pressing disgust as he laid his eyes on the shredded flesh. The bats had gone to town on Morgan, leaving little sections of skin intact. He’d mustered up the courage to get close enough to inspect the wounds, noting that the scratches embedded along his body were not all the work of the bats. No, some of them had been too deep of a wound for a bat’s claws to commit. He had a very good idea of the origins of those wounds, his eyes flickering to the rusted nails on the tray.

He knew then that it was not strength or immunity that had protected you from the touch of death, but your keen mind and craftiness with sharp objects. Coriolanus had pieced together a rough picture of what had happened: you’d managed to get close enough to cut Morgan with the nails, ensuring wounds that were deep enough to bleed profusely, which attracted and encouraged the bats to attack him. You hadn’t been so lucky to go completely unnoticed by the bats, hence the disheveled dress, but you had sure as hell been lucky enough to have been spared from their bite.

What a clever girl you were, perhaps too much for your own good.

Coriolanus had to admit that he’d been impressed by your cruelty—your drive to survive. It gave you an edge, a promising reason to win. He liked those odds, you were becoming a plausible risk to him. Just what would you have been willing to do to a tribute you’ve yet to meet, if you’d so easily betrayed a fellow district partner?

As he’d left the morgue that evening, he couldn’t deny the smirk that had wound his lips the entire trip back. He knew then that, for the first time in all his years as a mentor, this might be the year that he’d finally claim the Plinth prize.

What a worthwhile pick you had been. He liked good investments, and you had proven to be the best one yet. You’d taken that entire game, playing it smart, staying lost in the shadows and gathering what scraps you could make into a worthwhile means of defence. You weren’t the strongest or the most skilled fighter by any means, but you were smart, and that was a quality lost on many of the tributes.

They all marched around, boasting their strength as some sort of show of dominance. They thought it made them ferocious, earned them another hour of life, but Coriolanus knew that it only drew attention, that they were stupid in bringing about a speedier death. You had known that, too.

Coriolanus slipped out of his mind, watching as you’d stopped by one of the tables to grab a snack, making a point to be sloppy so that the strange man would feel honour in being able to wipe your lips clean, spurring on his ego and his erection. You had pulled that trick on Coriolanus many times. He hated seeing you provide that same sort of attention to anyone else.

His attention was diverted to a pair of Capitol business men, who had approached him and were attempting to bombard him with pitches he couldn’t have been more arsed to consider, not when he had something more pressing on his mind—not when you had deliberately stolen his attention away.

How incredibly selfish that you should demand his time even when you were not at his side, or laying below him with your legs spread open and cunt practically begging for his generosity. He didn’t tolerate time-wasters of any regard, so he’d ensure that you made up for it.

He lifted a dismissive hand toward the face of one of the men, who fell silent with a look of indignation, but even he wasn’t fool enough to unleash his temper unto the heir of the Plinth fortune. Had Coriolanus known that murdering his best friend would have come with so many perks, he’d have made a point to bring about that particular death benefit much sooner.

He lifted the glass to his lips, draining the rich wine that had been marinating the depths of the glass for far too long. He beckoned over one of the runners, placing his empty glass onto the tray before turning his attention back to the business men.

He offered an insincere dip of his chin. “My apologies, but I’ve more pressing matters to tend to. Please, do enjoy the beverages,” he slipped between their dumbfounded bodies, before adding, “and the women, if it’d please you.”

Coriolanus manoeuvred his way through the crowd, his eyes not once leaving you, even if he had to watch you relentlessly flirt with the other man. Not only were you good with your hands, but you unintentionally weaponised your beauty, too. He had always thought you to possess an innocence that seemed to frame your features, a natural gift that kept eyes focused on the contours of your face rather than on the schemes of your hands. That had always been your advantage—in the games and in your everyday interactions.

It made him angry that you’d remade his mind in this way. No matter how much Coriolanus tried to remind himself of the purpose he’d been bred for, all that he’d done to get to where he was now, all the people he’d carelessly murdered—there was no denying the truth:

No matter what higher, callous deity he claimed to be, he was only just a man, carved from anger and burdened with otherworldly jealously. All because of you.

Just as Coriolanus had managed to push past the last of the dancing bodies that had been blocking his path, he spotted you leaving through the doors, dragging your new pet behind you. His footsteps were brisk as he made for that same doorway, his fists balling at his sides as he stifled the urge to redirect his anger unto the unsuspecting door man. No, he’d best save that anger for you, transform it into something that would make you suffer, as he’d been forced to endure this evening.

He slipped through the doors, instantly greeted by a much quieter atmosphere, the laughter and music of the event muffled behind the now closed doors. Across the room, he saw you slip into the elevator, glimpsing just a hint of a smirk on your perfect lips as the doors slid closed and engulfed his view of you.

Annoyance pricked at his chest, he’d have to wait for the elevator to come back down. That was too much time gifted to you, time that could easily be used to bring you one step closer to coming undressed for that man. He’d never found himself wishing for a stairwell more than he did right now, but Capitol architecture stupidly insisted that stairs were a concept made only for the districts.

Coriolanus trudged his way over to the elevator, running an impatient hand through his hair as he watched the countdown of the various different floors commence on the monitor. His residence was the topmost floor, an expensive suite that the Plinths had gifted him on his day of recognition. He’d been kind enough to allow you to stay in one of his rooms, to have you in his proximity at all times where you’d more than once enjoyed the free luxury of his lifestyle, and this is how you’d repaid him—by bringing other men into his sacred space.

He couldn’t help but imagine what you were up to at this instant. The thought of you trapped beneath the man on one of the sofas overlooking the city made him bite the inside of his cheek—those were the sofas he’d so often pinned you to, forcing you to admire the view as he admired you, demonstrating his praise for your beauty through the actions of his fingers in your cunt.

When Coriolanus had first met you, he had thought you hated drawing attention, especially when it warranted a much speedier death in the games. You’d always been so reserved, so hellbent on silence as you kept a calculating eyes on anybody who wasn’t you. He’d like that quiet air about you, it was a call for guidance, a plea for somebody to claim your trust—he knew he could have given that to you.

But now, Coriolanus could have laughed at that thought.

You, hating attention? What an odd facade he’d so easily been fooled by—but he’d grown smarter since your first encounter. He knew the real truth now. What a glorious night that had been, the first time he’d taken you to bed.

He could still smell the desperation that had trailed from your cunt as his nose burrowed into your swollen and beckoning clit—the way his hands had squeezed the skin of your inner thighs a faint blue in his attempt to trap them against the bed. They’d been so eager to wrap around his neck, to make him prisoner within your euphoria. He’d shown his disapproval by wedging your thighs further apart, an action that earned a shocked moan from you, coupled with a gasp at the growing aggression of his tongue inside of you.

How he enjoyed being the puppeteer of your body, pulling your limbs every which way until you’d been contorted and opened up for him to exploit. You often needed reminding that you were sentenced to his will, made prisoner to his desires.

He could still feel the faint traces of your arousal that had painted pictures across the sharp lines of his jaw, mercilessly freed by the way his tongue had ravished your folds and plucked from you what little dignity and silence you had managed to fashion up until that very moment. No matter how much you’d pretend to feel indifferent to his attention, your body had always betrayed you—it was unashamedly and passionately thankful to his ministrations.

Your pathetic moans still echoed on a loop in the dark corners of his mind—an ear worm he couldn’t discard of, though he couldn’t honestly admit that he’d want anything of the sort. It spurred him on, serving as a constant reminder of his pretty possession, and just how much you needed him—his touch, his validation, his attention. He was the poison-kissed oxygen that you couldn’t help but inhale, fooling yourself that it would somehow replenish the air in your lungs and give you the freedom of living, existing, all the while your every bodily cell came closer and closer to becoming his. It didn’t take much for him to claim all that you were and all that you could be, only the right words and that glorious goddamn night in bed.

He’d completely remade you in his image, branded you with his bedroom generosity, always leaving you with just enough to satisfy, but never enough to last for more than a few hours. You always came back begging for more.

What an attention whore.

At last, the elevator dinged its arrival, the doors opening to welcome Coriolanus inside. He slipped in almost instantly, moving to press the button of the top floor. When the doors finally closed, he became trapped in the air lingering inside, noticing a trace of your sweet perfume. He’d come to admire that scent, thought of it as a way to identify every place you’d been in. But your sweet scent had fused with the musky odour of that strange man, an unpleasant smell that suffocated your own in mere seconds. He could only imagine that same odour plastering itself to your neck and all across your clothes as the man forced himself onto you, enjoying what didn’t belong to him.

After a few minutes, the elevator came to a stop, the doors sliding open to reveal two intertwined bodies at the other end of the lobby. You were pinned against the doors to Coriolanus’ suite, the man’s hands wandering beneath your dress and up your magnificent thighs, shrivelled lips sloppily searching the skin of your neck. Your head was tossed back against the wood, eyes sown shut as you let slip the sweetest of moans, a sound that Coriolanus had claimed as his own.

He barged through the elevator doors, the sound of his angered footsteps earning your attention. You lowered your head to him, watching with a playful smile at what was about to unfold. He ignored it, the satisfaction in that grin, the sense of achievement at your ability to control him, have him trailing after you like a dog on a leash. He’d let you have this moment, to savour its short-lived existence because once he was through with this man, he’d show you just how much trouble you’d caused him.

Coriolanus grabbed the oblivious man at the collar of his shirt, too far gone to think with his brain rather than his cock to notice he’d appeared, and plucked him from you. He shoved the man away, who stumbled backwards with his footsteps serving as clear evidence of mild intoxication. The toad began protesting, before his eyes finally found Coriolanus and his lips clamped shut on a look of realisation.

“You come into my house, drink my wine, enjoy my woman, all without a trace of shame?” Coriolanus snapped, his voice gruff with built-up anger.

The man fashioned an apologetic look. “I didn’t mean any offence, Mr. Snow, I swear by it!” His hands made frantic gestures, eager to exonerate himself. “It was her that came onto me, she invited me back here, suggested we get to know each other better—“

Coriolanus lifted his chin, his glare cold as he stared down his nose at the man. “Are you implying that it’s her fault?” It most certainly was, but if Coriolanus had to endure all that had just happened, he intended to have some fun with it.

The man stilled with a look of uncertainty that passed between you and Coriolanus, his hand moving to scratch the back of his head.

“Are you even a man at all, if you’re so easily influenced by a girl that bats her lashes at you and caresses your arm one time?” He had to ignore the irony in that statement; he could’ve almost been talking into a mirror. “You’re pathetic, blaming your lack of control and better judgement on her,” he said, eyes hardening as he took a step forward, the man simultaneously retreating a step with a gulp.

“Go find whatever excuse of a manhood you claim to have in somebody else’s cunt, and don’t let me catch you back in this building. It wont be words that warn you off next time.” His hands clenched into fists at his side, itching to grab the fleeing man and grace him with a well-earned punch—but he wouldn’t gift you that satisfaction, too.

When the elevator doors closed on the stranger, Coriolanus turned to face you. You were picking at your nails busily, as though the entire interaction had bored you beyond interest.

“What were you thinking?” He snapped at you, inching closer to glare you down.

You glanced up from your hands, offering a mere shrug as you crossed your arms and glanced up at him cheekily. “I wasn’t thinking at all, really,” you admitted. “Just wanted to feel some good things.”

Bitterness found its way onto Coriolanus’ tongue. “Do I not make you feel good enough?” He scolded coolly, his eyes searching yours angrily. “Would you rather I call that prick back and have him stick his two expired inches inside you?”

A hint of hurt seemed to widen your eyes, your expression shaped with confusion. “Didn’t think you cared what I got up to,” you muttered, glancing off to the side.

Coriolanus knew that to be complete bullshit, a feeble play at attempting to settle your own insecurities. He knew what you wanted to hear from him—that you mattered to him, that he wanted you to himself, that the mere thought of another man touching you would send him into inexplicable rage. To an extent, those were all true, but not in the way you'd wanted them to be, not in a way he was capable of giving.

He restrained the anger he felt towards you, knowing that he needed to take a gentler approach. You weren't in a state fit to endure his anger, not now. He needed to coddle you, to keep your emotions intact, otherwise he risked losing you. He couldn't have that.

“I care,” he said at last, moving a hand to grip at your chin. He’d forgotten how soft your skin was, it’d been weeks since he’d been permitted to touch you, business keeping him away from your warmth. He moved your face to his, searching between your eyes and your lips. “And you know that I care, too, or you wouldn’t have put on this little display.”

“You don’t care—not really, Coriolanus,” you snapped, your hand plucking his from your chin. “You constantly remind me that I’m nothing more than pleasure to you, an object you love to parade around, so as long as it’s your name engraved on me.”

Correct, he thought, his hand returning to his side. He gazed at you, the cogs of his mind reeling busily as he cautiously selected his next words. He couldn’t be angry with you, not now when you were so fragilely being kept together by emotion. It mattered what he said to you, even if the words weren’t honest. He knew that you needed reassurance, something akin to love to cling to, to keep you satisfied beside him. The condition that came with having a toy he loved to play with, was having to look after it, to ensure it didn’t break or wear with time.

That was exactly what he had to do with you, so he fed you whatever conniving words he could to keep you indulged in whatever illusion you’d had about your relationship with Coriolanus. A necessary evil to preserve his hold over you. He was selfish that way, but you were far too entertaining to let slip, and he did rather enjoy you—your company and your body.

Truthfully, you did have some sort of hold over him, and he’d let just enough of that truth show to control you, to convince you of his love for you.

“In all my years of existing, I've never once felt compelled to share my life with somebody else," Coriolanus told you softly. He moved his hand to return that same rogue strand of hair back behind your ear. "Not until you. I can't explain it, the way the mere thought of you with another man sends me into an unparalleled rage—to think that he could give you something I couldn't. The thought of somebody touching you the way I touch you. . . It's unbearable, unacceptable."

He placed his hands on either one of your cheeks, lifting your head to face him. His words had too easily buttered you up, moulded your face with a look of infatuation. “If I didn’t care about you, I wouldn’t have followed you all the way up here. I’d have let you fuck whoever you want, whenever you want, however you want. But the fact is, I care—a lot.”

You still harboured a certain look of uncertainty in your eyes, those damned eyes that made him go feral. He could tell that you wanted to believe him, but you had reservations that he hadn’t yet satisfied with his words. He needed to say more, do more.

“Do you see me chasing after any other girl the way I chase after you?” He pressed on, grabbing your face a little more ferociously, just to sell the point. “You’ve consumed me, reduced any ounce of respect I’ve once had for myself to nothingness. I could’ve had you pawned off the Capitol after the games, to do whatever bidding they demanded of you, but I chose to keep you by my side, to spoil you with everything you deserve for winning the games. Tell me one person who’d be willing to do the same for a district nobody that they held no care for?”

Your eyes had grown teary at his words, your bottom lip quivering beyond your control. You had meant to look tougher, Coriolanus could tell, unmoved by his words, but you were only just a naive girl burdened with the need to be loved. So you believed it, every poisonous word dripping from his lips—lapped it up hungrily like a douse of honey, in fact. Perfect. He was gaining back your trust.

You caved into Coriolanus, his hands falling from your face to wrap around your body and keep you against him. His one hand curled around the nape of your neck while the other wrapped around the small of your back, so perfectly shaped to accommodate his arm. How could he be convinced that you were not made just for him, when every aspect of your body seemed to be carved just for his touch? The hand on your head began to move with rhythmic strokes across your hair, his lips moving to place a kiss on the crown of your head. He rested his chin where he’d placed his kiss, as though sealing in the sensation, before he spoke up.

“You were incredibly selfish tonight,” he murmured. You pulled back subtly to glance up at him with slightly furrowed brows, and he lifted his chin from your head to gaze back at you impassively. “You put me through hell, making me watch as you flirted with that man, touched on him all over as you promised him sex. Do you think that was fun for me?”

Your eyes glinted with a hint of guilt, your lips parting with a soft no.

“No,” Coriolanus agreed, his eyes undeniably annoyed as he glared at your guilt-ridden expression. His fingers ventured along your back, finding the zip to your dress, the only thing keeping your body prisoner in the fabric. He tugged at the zip, harshly at first, his need to punish you poking through his actions, but he had to refrain from that for the time-being. More slowly, he began to pull the zip down your body. “I think it only fitting that you should be punished for your little games, don’t you agree?” His eyes flickered back up to yours coolly, almost challenging you to disagree.

The fabric of your dress grew loose on your body, the straps beginning to slide along the slope of your shoulders. You glanced up at him in silence, not wanting to admit the words, but the neediness on your expression told him that you were all game for your punishment—not that it ever was something unpleasant. Coriolanus was always generous when it came to putting you in your place.

“Glad we’re on the same page, dove,” he said, the dress releasing your body at last. It pooled onto the floor around your heels, leaving you barren save for the bra suffocating your breasts. He glanced down at your lower half, faintly surprised to find that you’d neglected the courtesy of wearing any underwear.

"Was this supposed to be an apology?" He asked, glancing back at you through a charming smirk.

A smile broke through onto your lips. "I thought it'd make undressing me quicker," you replied, lowering yourself to remove the heels from your feet. You were glad to be free of that hell. They made your calves look good, but they were torture on your feet.

"Well, aren't you considerate?" Coriolanus responded, then paused before adding. "So you knew how this night would end, with you and I nothing but a sexual amalgamation?”

"It was more of a hope,” you replied as you straightened yourself up.

Coriolanus' constraint gave in at your insinuations, his hand moving to caress your cheek, his eyes lowering to your perfect lips that he craved to taste in that very moment. You reached up to deliver the unspoken need onto his lips, but he kept you grounded with a hand around your collarbone. "You're not kissing me with those lips," he told you. “Not after that prick has wiped his saliva all over you.”

His hand left your body to reach into his blazer pockets. He pulled out a key, his hand snaking around your waist to slip the key into the door hole. His face was intentionally leaned close to yours, his eyes narrowed with a mixture of concentration as he struggled to unlock the door, and because he could smell the man’s cologne clinging desperately to your skin. He’d need to take care of that before the evening could proceed, it was a detrimental hinderance to his cock. At last, the doors gave in with a loud click, and he pulled the key from the lock.

He leaned back with a curt beckoning of his chin. "After you,” he said, placing the key back into his blazer, his eyes not once neglecting yours.

You gave him a long stare, almost daring to be disobedient before you clearly thought better of it. You bent over to collect your dress and your shoes before turning to push the doors open. Coriolanus dropped his attention to your ass, which practically begged for his approval as it bounced with your every step. He entered inside after you, closing the doors behind him.

You ventured a few steps into the well-furnished living room of the suite and tossed your clothing onto the nearest sofa, your eyes trained on the glass walls that offered a breath-taking view of Panem. You’d always marvel over the cityscape as if it was your first time seeing it, but in all honesty, it was the fact that the lights of Panem fashioned a different colour each night, and it always seemed to illuminate new buildings and views that you’d never noticed before.

Coriolanus watched you, your hand absentmindedly reaching to hold your elbow as you admired the view—one that you’d already seen countless times before, he thought. He wondered whether you were contemplating your circumstances in this instant, as if the reality of what you’d done had finally started to sink in, and what the consequences to follow would be. He could read you fairly well, but there were still moments that your thoughts were lost on him.

“Are you scared?” He asked, his voice echoing throughout the empty space.

You turned to face him, your hands falling to your side. The lighting was dim, but the amusement etched onto your features were clear. “Scared? I didn’t survive the games only to be scared of you, Coriolanus Snow. Besides, this is hardly our first rodeo. I can’t imagine there’s much more surprises you could spring on me.”

Coriolanus cocked his eyebrows, smiling at those words. He appreciated your effortless wit. Most of Panem’s ladies were annoyingly submissive in their conversation, saying only what they thought he wanted to hear, as though it’d make them more desirable to him. You didn’t need to be told what to say, you just said it, and he was glad for it. Control could be exhausting, especially when he strove to maintain it in almost every aspect of his life. It was refreshing to know that he didn’t have to control your personality, too.

“Good,” he said, inching closer until he could reach out a hand to grab your arm. He turned you around forcefully, cool fingers teasingly tracing the skin of your shoulder as he made his way down to the clasp of your bra. He undid the hook, freeing your breasts from the pretty white lace, before tossing it onto the sofa beside your other discarded items. He turned you back to him, his eyes instantly lowering to the hardened nipples crowning your soft breasts. “Somebody’s eager,” He jested, his voice a soft rumble as his eyes rose to meet yours. “Did you want something from me?”

“You know I always do, Coryo,” you responded, taking your lower lip into a subtle bite.

Coriolanus’s eyes hardened at that nickname. “Don’t call me that,” he demanded. That version of himself had died a long time ago.

Your eyebrows cocked at his tone, your lips momentarily pursed before you asked, “should I call you Mr. Snow instead?”

“Just Coriolanus,” he replied, rolling his shoulders to remove his crimson blazer. Your eyes were stalking his every move. He could tell that you wanted nothing more than to reach out to what little clothing remained on his body and tear it away mercilessly—that you wanted him to take you right here at this very instant. But he was faintly impressed at your patience as you decided against any reckless action, instead opting to wait for his next command.

He folded his blazer and draped it over his arm, his free hand beckoning for you to follow him to his bedroom. “Come on.”

Your eyes followed his footsteps, your disbelief keeping your feet glued to the ground. Coriolanus glanced over his shoulder when your footsteps didn’t commence behind him. Your reaction was justifiable. He’d never once once invited you into his room in all the months you’d lived with him. He knew that you were foolishly thinking that this moment marked an intimate milestone in your relationship, that this act was an attempt for him to show just how much you meant to him.

“Problem?” He asked.

You willed away the dumbfounded look on your face, offering a half-hearted no as you caught up to Coriolanus. As if the sentiment was fragile, you merely walked ahead of him in silence, afraid that one wrong word would revoke the invite.

He trailed behind you as you approached the door to his bedroom. You tossed a glance over your shoulder as you sought out confirmation in your actions. Coriolanus gave a small nod, an encouraging smirk poking through. You smiled back, turning your attention to opening the door. You slipped inside, your attention instantly flying to the furniture that occupied the space. It was modest, very limited to necessities.

The bed, needlessly big, was slightly undone, the comforters left untidy as though he’d just climbed out of bed and the covers half pulled from the pillows—a picture frozen in time. A plate and a mug was stacked onto the bedside table, the previous day’s clothes draped across the sofas near the windows. Your eyes were fixating every detail around the room, as though burning a mental picture into your mind as a souvenir for later.

Coriolanus moved to place his blazer beside his other clothes on the sofa. “Sorry for the mess,” he offered, moving to undo the buttons of his waistcoat. “As I’m sure you know, I don’t usually have the worry of entertaining guests.”

You turned to face him, your eyes lowering to his skilful fingers. “I like the mess,” you responded, making your way over to him. “It feels personal, seeing this side of you—allow me to.” You shooed his hands off the waistcoat, taking his place in undoing the buttons. You glanced up at him seductively, your eyes flickering down to his full lips.

He watched you undress him, slowly but surely, knowing that he could’ve done a much faster job. But he allowed you to take on the role, knowing that it made you feel important, that your body would show him just how thankful you were and how much these little details meant to you. Once you had unfastened the last button, you removed the waistcoat and admired his toned and broad physique, painfully concealed behind his white shirt.

Coriolanus glared at your wandering eyes, wondering whether you were trying to picture him naked. He’d never been fully undressed in all of their little rendezvous, it was something far too intimate for him. And there had only been a few occasions where he’d fucked you with his cock and not his fingers or his mouth. He’d found himself deriving the utmost pleasure when he got to solely focus on how you came undone for him, how powerful his every movement upon you really was.

When your hands moved to undo the buttons of his shirt, he grabbed at your wrist. “Not yet,” he told you. “You still reek of him.” You frowned at his words, your hands falling to your sides in disappointment. “Come with me,” he said, moving past you toward the bathroom. “We’re going to take a little bath.”

Your interest peaked at his words. “We’re going to bath together?” You asked curiously as you followed after him.

“You’re going to bath,” Coriolanus corrected as he reached the large alcove bathtub. He leaned over to turn on the tap. “I’m going to watch.” His hand trailed the many soaps and balms that lined the rim of the bathtub. He’d made it a mission to collect every scented product he could manage once he got his hand on the money, simply because he could, and he liked smelling good.

“Sounds perverted,” you shot at him, crossing your arms as you watched him draw your bath.

He grabbed ahold of a rose-scented oil and began pouring it into the water. “You didn’t agree to live with me because of my normalcy,” he said distractedly. “But because you knew just how much my so called perversion had to offer your pathetic, little, touch-starved body.”

He tossed a glance at you over his shoulder, satisfied by the red gleam that had snuck onto your cheeks. He turned his attention back to the tub, reaching for a bottle of bubble bath. He began adding it to the water, a few droplets reaching up to stain his shirt.

“In any case,” Coriolanus continued. “It’s the least you could do for me after tonight’s shit-show.” He placed the bottle back against the wall, closing the tap once the water had reached an appropriate level. He unbuttoned the cufflinks of his shirt and rolled up the sleeves, taking a few paces back. He jerked his head at you. “Go on,” he demanded.

You unfurled into a dramatic stretch, parading your breasts as you faced him. “Join me.”

He fixed you with an unwavering stare, not so keen to play into another one of your games. “Get in.”

With one last glare, you turned and dipped one leg into the bath, instantly pulling back with a hiss. Your head snapped to face him. “It’s too hot,” you protested.

Coriolanus moved to retrieve a chair from the corner of the bathroom, placing it a few inches from where you stood. He sat himself down, offering a mere shrug to your words. “Good observation.”

“I’m not going to burn myself bloody just so that you can get off,” you spat.

“Then let’s kill some time while we wait for the water to cool down,” he suggested, his eyes once again tracing over every inch of your exposed body with keen interest.

You looked open to his request. “What did you have in mind?”

Coriolanus’s eyes flickered back up to you. “Touch yourself,” he said earnestly. You paused at his words, suddenly looking self-conscious, before you hesitantly began to caress your breasts. He watched your fingers squeeze and grope at your skin, imagining that it were his own hands in their stead, only he’d be a lot less kind in his touch. Your fingers trailed teasing circles around your nipples, further hardened at your own toying and his intense observation.

“Lower,” he ordered, feeling frustrated at your lack of venturing into your lower extremities.

Your eyes glinted at him, a look that seemed to say greedy. Yes, he was. Who could blame him? He’d grown up starving for most days of the year, now he’d take as much as he wanted.

His eyes fixated the hand that lowered in a painfully slow motion across your stomach, reaching that sweet spot housed between your legs. As your fingers began to fondle with your clit, you threw your head back with a pitiful moan. He knew he could’ve extracted a louder sound. He almost felt obliged to take over, but he had to remind himself that you were undeserving of his touch, that you needed to be punished with the urge to feel him, yet be denied that pleasure.

A few minutes of your fondling had passed before your ministrations eventually became too overwhelming to maintain control over your body. You lowered yourself to the bathmat, your hand not once leaving your cunt. You spread your legs open, offering a broader view to Coriolanus. Your eyes were glazed over as you glanced at him. He tilted his head slightly in approval, feeling his own cock growing interested at his view of your pathetic situation.

“That’s good, sweetheart,” he praised, noting the way your eyes lowered to his pants. He parted his legs slightly to take the pressure off of his growing erection, eager to hide his arousal. He didn’t want you to notice just yet how much he was truly enjoying this. Your movements eventually became more erratic, incoherent sounds spewing from your lips.

“I need you, Coriolanus,” you managed to blabber out, your tired head resting onto the rim of the bathtub, eyes periodically fluttering closed as you alternated between consciousness and whatever universe of pleasure was found behind your eyes. “Please,” you begged.

“You’ll have me soon,” he said, “when I see it fit.”

“I’ve been good for you,” you protested breathlessly. “I’ve done everything you told me to.”

“You have a lot to atone for,” Coriolanus pointed out, his eyes lowering to where your hand had slowed its movements. “Don’t stop until I tell you to.”

You glanced at him past your tired lids, but you obliged nonetheless, adding a finger inside of your cunt to increase the pressure. He supposed it was fair, if he had refused to place his own fingers inside of you. He couldn’t help the smirk that crept onto lips as he watched a stream of white begin to trail from your opening, recalling how good you tasted. It was a shame, really, that it would go to waste onto the bathroom mat instead of onto his appreciative tongue. From the sound of your pathetic mewling and your ragged breathing, Coriolanus knew that you were growing close to your high. He didn’t intend for the fun to end just yet.

“I want you to continue until you feel like you’re going to cum,” he told you, though he wasn’t sure you’d heard him past you own noise. “And then I want you to stop just before that happens.”

“That’s mean, Coriolanus,” you managed to say.

“You haven’t seen mean yet, dove,” he said. “Now stop talking and focus.”

Your fingers picked up their pace with a newfound eagerness, the knot in your stomach growing inescapably larger, the urge to come undone becoming harder and harder to contain. Coriolanus wasn’t sure you’d obey his command at this point, you looked too far gone to resume control over your own actions. His eyes narrowed, watching closely at what fate you’d choose to follow. Much to his disappointment, you practiced constraint, your hips shooting up with anticipation, only to sink to the floor as you denied yourself the orgasm.

You glanced at Coriolanus past your teary lashes, a silent request for praise. He heeded your need, rising from his seat to crouch beside your slumped figure. He combed the loose hair from your face, wiping away the beads of sweat that dotted your forehead.

“You’re too good for this world,” he murmured sweetly. He felt as though he could have choked on the banality of his words, but the soft look in your eyes as you gazed up at him made it worthwhile. He nodded to your hand, still resting on your cunt. “Show me how good you felt.”

You pulled your hand from its playground between your legs, creamy white webs entangled on your fingers. They pulled a string along your stomach as you lifted your fingers for Coriolanus to study.

“It almost looks like you don’t need my help,” he chuckled, his hand fastening around your wrist to bring your fingers to his lips. His blue eyes bore down into you as he took each of your fingers into his mouth. One by one, his tongue hungrily weaved around them, claiming your juices from your skin.

You gazed at him with a wild look ablaze in your eyes. “Don’t I deserve a taste?” You said. “After all, I did all the hard work. I deserve to taste the fruits of my labour.”

“You should be modest,” Coriolanus said once he removed your fingers from his mouth. “Nobody likes a brag.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” you retorted lightly, your eyes glinting with exhaustion. “I like you.”

“Mhm,” he offered softly, placing your hand gently onto your chest. He reached his hand between your legs, an action that caused your thighs to stiffen around him. “Relax,” he cooed, pressing his palm into one of your thighs, encouraging you to open up to him.

“Sorry,” you said, easing off the defensiveness. “I’m sensitive down there at the moment.”

“I’ll be careful,” he promised, gazing at your fragile expression. Fuck, he could take you right here. His fingers moved with caution as they glided along the folds of your drenched cunt, gathering up your cum into untidy clumps. He followed a trail of arousal that had traveled down into the cleft of your ass, pressing a teasing finger into your asshole.

You gasped at the sudden invasion, and Coriolanus’s throat rumbled with a chuckle. He removed his fingers and brought them to your lips. You glanced at his slender fingers, not needing much convincing to take them into your mouth. You turned your attention to him as you began to suck at him suggestively, exaggerating your head bobbing as you made a point to cover the entire length of his fingers.

He watched you with a lopsided smirk, enjoying the whore-like behaviour you so willingly offered him. Now and again, he’d thrust his fingers a little too deep, more than what your throat could handle, which caused you to gag around him. Strings of your saliva had begun to slither down his exposed forearm, pleasantly warm on his skin. He imagined his cock in the stead of his fingers, enjoying the same warmth and wetness your mouth had to offer.

When you’d decidedly had enough of licking his fingers clean, you pulled your lips from him with a characteristic pop. Coriolanus reached that hand over the bathtub, dipping it into the water to feel its temperature. It had cooled down considerably, but it was still warm enough for a worthwhile soak. He withdrew his hand and wiped his fingers onto his shirt.

“The bath will get cold soon,” he told you. “Get in.”

“Is that all?” You asked disappointedly.

“Get yourself cleaned up, and I’ll show you what I’ve got in stock for you.” He straightened up and took a few paces back as you perked with new resolve and found your feet.

He backed up to reclaim his position on the chair, crossing his legs as he watched you. Your back was momentarily on him as you climbed into the bathtub, the water sloshing a welcome. You submerged yourself into the warmth almost instantly, a content groan reverberating in your throat. His eyes lowered to your hand, which had began to spread the foam of the bubble bath across your bare chest and breasts.

“The water’s so good,” you murmured.

“Don’t get too relaxed,” he warned.

“Why don’t you join me, Coriolanus,” you said, your eyes fluttered open as you moved to fold your arms onto the lip of bathtub. You rested your chin onto your arms, glancing at the erection he could no longer conceal. “I’ll take good care of your little cock, that should keep me on my toes.” Your expression beamed at your choice of words, deliberately chosen to get a rise out of him.

Coriolanus merely scoffed at your teasing. He had many things to prove, but the size of his cock was not one of them.

“You sure you could handle me, since you’re still so sensitive down there?” He asking mockingly. He leaned back into his chair, his hand coming up to clench his chin, the other grabbing his elbow.

You tilted your head prettily to one side. “Only one way to find out,” you murmured, leaning back against the wall of the tub as you kicked your foot out and onto the edge. Water splashed partially onto the bathmat, but most had been caught by the bare floor.

Coriolanus lowered his eyes to the puddle. “You’re making quite a mess for someone who’s been in here for less than half an hour.”

“Give me an hour and you’ll see just how much of a mess I can make,” you challenged.

He lifted his chin to face you, his eyes narrowing the slightest. This side of you was something he’d never experienced before; you were a lot more daring, undoubtedly brought on by the importance you felt at being allowed the opportunity to bathe in his bathroom and in his company. He’d like to test just how long you could keep up this illusion of bravery, and how quickly you’d drop it when he had you sprawled onto his fingers.

“Come here, then,” he said, uncrossing his legs and spreading it as an invitation for your thighs.

Your eyes snuck a peak at his hard on before you broke away from your slutty pose and climbed from the warmth of the tub. You took a few steps toward Coriolanus, water and soap slithering down the curves of your body and onto the floor.

You stopped short of his legs. “You’re sure?” You asked, eyes making a point of the shirt and pants he still wore. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable with a little less on?”

Coriolanus grunted from a place of impatience, reaching out his hand to grab at your wrist. He pulled you into his lap, rough hands guiding your hips to comfortably straddle his clothed thighs. The soapy water coating your body began to bleed into his clothes, his pants the most affected, but he could hardly be arsed in this moment. He just needed to feel you, needed to use you. His fingers gripped at your thighs, his heavenly blue eyes boring down onto your strained expression as he began to forcibly guide your bare cunt over his bulge.

Coriolanus’s movements set a generous pace, endorphins bolting through your core each time his bulge struck your sensitive clit. The texture of his pants was harsh on your skin, creating a friction that seemed to generate copious amounts of heat—screw sticks and stones, this method of fucking could have started all the fires in the world. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your lower half instinctively beginning to cooperate as you rocked back and fourth in sync with his guidance.

Your head came to rest in the chiselled crook of his neck, his earthy fragrance fucking heaven-sent on your senses, further engulfing you in bliss. His throat vibrated against your ear with strained moans, they came as subtle grunts that prompted his hands to speed up the pace. He was so eager to feel you, to settle his drawn-out erection. You winced as his fingers burrowed into the skin of your thighs. He’d neglected all caution in your handling, his need to control your movements overpowering what slither of consideration he’d held for your comfort.

It didn’t take long for the stinging sensation to blend with your pleasure, slurred moans pouring from your lips as you felt cum begin to leak from your entrance. It lubricated the fabric of Coriolanus’s pants, offering some relief from the coarse material. You screwed your eyes shut and pressed your face into his shirt, eager to muffle the mewls of pleasure you seemed to have zero control over. His chest rumbled with a breathy fuck, and you felt his body momentarily convulse with the overwhelming feelings your bodies shared.

You turned your head, your nose brushing against the skin of his neck. Your eyes fluttered open, drinking in the view of his adam’s apple, so prominent and manly. It bobbed as Coriolanus swallowed a moan. You brought your furthest hand forward to hook the side of his neck, pulling him against your lips. He didn’t resist, it’s almost as though he was too focused on his own work to pay attention to your own dealings. You littered sloppy kisses all across his neck, placing extra emphasis around his adam’s apple. You kissed all around the bulge before giving into your thoughts and dragging your tongue over it, leaving a sloppy trail in your wake.

The warmth and wetness of your tongue on his throat made Coriolanus release an unexpected groan, a hand leaving your hips to wrap around your throat. You let slip a chuckle at his action, and he held you out in front of him, his cold eyes glaring into yours as he decided to brutalise his movements. You moaned loudly, the sound strained as you forced it past his suffocating hold on your neck.

“Coriolanus,” you choked out breathlessly, your hands sliding along his broad shoulders. “I need you inside of me.”

“You’ve waited this long,” Coriolanus muttered. “You can wait a little longer.” His hold on your throat grew tighter, your vision starting to blur behind a mixture of fresh tears and your compromised oxygen.

He watched your eyes flutter closed and your teeth clench as you inched closer and closer to your edge, your nails digging through his shirt and into his shoulders, steading yourself against his aggression. His singular hand on your hip began to cramp at his incessant groping and steering, but he was beginning to feel his own orgasm approaching, and that was motivation enough to push through—that, and your whorish desperation.

He released his grip on your neck, the air returning to your lungs as a cough and a splutter. He hooked the nape of your neck and pulled you into the comfort of his shoulder, urging you to rest your tired head there as he finished you both off. With both hands once again firm on your hips, he picked up the pace. He rested his chin onto the crown of your head, his eyes fluttering closed as he allowed the scent of your conditioner to swallow his senses.

With each movement, he brought you down harder onto his cock, craving rougher strokes. The squelching of the cum coating your folds and spreading along his pants was music to his ears, and he gritted his teeth to bite back his ragged breathing so that he could continue to hear the way he’d transformed your cunt. He could feel his own pre-cum trickling from his tip, the warmth spreading along his shaft by the generosity of your wet folds. Fucking hell did he yearn to be inside of you, almost as much as you craved him, but he had to be stronger than his own desires.

It didn’t take long before every nerve tracing the length of his cock began to fire rapid impulses, the prolonged stimulation proving to be too overbearing. His lips parted with strained breaths, the black abyss behind his eyes beginning to birth a cosmos of anticipatory stars. The image built and built until he thrust you one last violent time along his cock, his hips rocking up into you, delivering just the right ounce of pressure before white engulfed his vision.

His grip on your hips loosened, his ears buzzing with the aftermath of his high. He hadn’t even realised that you’d come undone before he had, your whimpers and vulgar pleas lost in his concentration. The only evidence of your orgasm was the new patch of wetness that had marked his pants, a generous mixture of squirt and cum.

Your breathless voice sounded at his ear as you moved your head from under his chin. “I want to feel like that all the time.”

“That can be arranged, dove,” he chuckled hoarsely.

You felt his hand leave your hip, the skin there instantly growing cool. He dragged his fingers repeatedly along the wisps of your hair. It was as though he were petting a dog, only his touch was a lot gentler and more intimate. You allowed your eyes to flutter closed, your lips parting with a content sigh as you waited for the ecstasy of your orgasm to dissolve. You rested your chin on his shoulder, listening to the calm of his breathing, focusing on his hand caressing your hair.

You pulled back to glance at him, his eyes questioning as he returned your stare. Your attention moved to his lips, they looked so soft and plump, not nearly red enough. You’d been robbed of the opportunity to nibble on them, to contort them between your own lips, to taste the wine he’d downed at the party. You didn’t think you’d be properly satisfied until you got your wish. Did that make you ungrateful?

Coriolanus offered a faint smirk, your thoughts loud and clear. How selfish of him, he’d forgotten to kiss you during your little ride. Not a train-smash, he had the entire night to make up for that. His hand on your hair tightened there, forcing you into his vicinity. You wanted to protest at the hairs pulling at your scalp, but you hadn’t gotten the chance, not when his lips silenced yours in a hungry tumble.

He didn’t kiss you as often as you would’ve liked, but when he did, it was always imbued with passion, his movements erratic like he’d been starving and you were the first source of food he’d encountered in days. You got lost in the movement of his lips, the pace so fast that you couldn’t properly match it, though not for lack of trying. You allowed yourself to be swept up in his kiss, accepting that he was in control.

Coriolanus moved his hands to grab ahold of your breasts, his attention marvellously divided between fondling them and tracing his tongue along the inside of your mouth. You moaned into him, the sound muffled and lost to your entanglement. His teeth scraped against your bottom lip, offering a sharp nip that caused you to wince in surprise. You felt his lips broaden in a smug smile, his hands neglecting your breasts and trailing a seductive path down your waist to deliver a crisp spank to your ass.

The skin stung where he’d struck you, but he was so quick to soothe the ache with gentle rubbing. The curves of your ass fit so perfectly into his palms. He pulled his lips from yours, not sparing even an instant for you to process his movements before his sharp nose found sanctuary in your cleavage. He littered kisses there before moving to plant a trail around the circumference of your breasts.

“Coriolanus,” you moaned, your head lolling back.

He hummed against your skin, a halfhearted acknowledgement. His hand found its way between your thighs, his middle finger sliding between your labia where beads of your brand new arousal waited to greet him. He slathered his fingers in your juice, lubricating the skin before he slid his finger into your entrance.

Your entire composure collapsed at that, the built up suspense of needing him inside you satisfied at last. Your entrance clamped around him at first, the sensation always forgotten with how few and far apart these glorious moments were spread, but within a fraction of a second, you melted onto his finger.

You nibbled at your lower lip, the bite deepening as Coriolanus’s teeth found your nipple. He alternated between tugging at your hardened buds and swirling his tongue around and all over it, mischievously marking steaks of saliva along your skin. A few seconds later, his ring and index finger joined the party within you.

Your grip on his shoulders lowered down his back, eagerly clawing at the hard and chiselled muscles, but his damned shirt got in the way. You pulled back, Coriolanus’ lips robbed of your breasts. He glanced at you, his fingers continuing their thrusts. Your hands flew to tug at the buttons of his shirt. The first few you’d managed to undo, but you had finite patience for the others, resorting to an aggressive tug that split the buttons from the fabric.

“Are you going to pay for that?” Coriolanus jested lightly.

“I’m sure there’s plenty more shirts where that one came from,” you said hastily, yanking the sleeves down his broad shoulders.

You instantly dove in to kiss at his chest. He’d never been excessively muscled, but he was still strong and toned, his frame broad and absolutely mouth-watering to gaze upon. Your hands wandered along his chest, sliding along his shoulders and down his arms. You attempted to tug his shirt all the way off, Coriolanus aiding your motion as he momentarily pulled his fingers from inside you.

He rolled his shoulders and removed his shirt, tossing it onto the floor. You glanced at his torso, now completely exposed to you. You couldn’t stifle the smile on your lips, thinking that he looked a lot like a male stripper—bare-chested yet still clothed from the waist down, presenting himself on a chair. All he was missing was a sexy dance of some sort.

Coriolanus frowned at your gawking. “What’s on that mind of yours?”

You pursed your lips. “Nothing,” you answered, placing a kiss on his lips. You moved to murmur in his ear, “now If it’s not too much to ask, would you kindly stick your fingers back inside of me?”

When you withdrew to look at him, Coriolanus wore a wicked smirk. “What a slutty thing to say.” His fingers returned to your cunt, but instead of easing his way inside, he opted for his whole hand at once.

You didn’t know whether you were more shocked at his gesture, or the way your cunt had easily welcomed him. His movements were considerably less cautious than before, but you didn’t care about that now, only that he was finally inside of you. You let out a lengthy moan, so eager to verbalise your appreciation. Your hands moved to cup your breasts, squeezing and kneading them together as you tilted your head back.

You closed your eyes and focused on his hand inside you, how each thrust grew deeper and closer to your sweet spot. It’s as though he’d already mapped out your insides, his fingers knowing exactly which way to wander. Gods, you truly didn’t know whether you or Coriolanus enjoyed this more. He kept up a regular pace for a while, and you’d quickly grown impatient and needy for his brutality.

“Faster,” you complained.

Coriolanus slowed his movements, coming to a complete stop. He wholly expected the miserable look on your face as your head snapped down to face him. How could he allow you to think that he was here to serve you, as opposed to you serving him. He wasn’t just going to hand you what you wanted, life certainly hadn’t been that generous with him. No, you’d have to work for it.

“Okay, we can go faster,” he said, cocking his head slightly. You regained a spark at those words, but it quickly blew out at what came next. “But you’ll do it yourself, since you’re unsatisfied with what I’m giving you.”

“I didn’t mean it like that—“ you attempted to protest, but Coriolanus cut you off with free his index finger pressing against your lips, his lips fashioned in a hush.

“No talking,” he murmured. “Just get to work.” He beckoned down to your cunt, his hand motionless inside of you.

Devastated at having to do the work yourself, you crossed your arms around his neck, your expression adorably resentful as you lifted your hips and began to ride him. Coriolanus lowered his free hand to rest at your hip, his attention wandering to your breasts. He couldn’t have ignored them even if he tried, not when they were bouncing inches from his face and calling out for attention. Your moans quickly commenced, your hips already starting to tremble with your next orgasm. You tossed your head back, your movements becoming uncoordinated, like your body had already started to give up.

Coriolanus felt your walls begin to clench around his hand, glancing up to glimpse your face. “Look at me,” he called to you. Your head lowered to face him at once, your eyelids drooping. “Are you going to cum?” He asked, and you nodded eagerly, followed by a strewn out moan.

Good, he thought. His hand on your hip began to press against your movements, interrupting the pace you’d managed to get going. Your eyes widened as your orgasm retracted into a dissatisfying gasp, the high that had been building instantly collapsed at your sudden lack of movement.

“Coriolanus,” you snapped, your tone coming across as a whine. You’d become frustrated with his teasing, and your body shared the sentiment. Your clit ached now, exhausted tremors seizing every muscle of your body. “You’re being a dick!”

“No,” he countered, pulling his hand from your entrance. He looked condescending as his eyes flickered across you face. “I’m punishing you, just like I promised. You’re getting exactly what you deserve, but you’re spoiled and used to getting your way.”

You didn’t have anything to retort, so you glared at him in silence, ignoring the hurt that his words had inflicted upon you.

“Don’t pout,” he murmured, wiping his wet hand along your thigh.

Then, without warning, he hoisted you up at the thighs and manoeuvred you bridal-style from the bathroom towards the bedroom. He lowered you onto the undone comforters of his bed, leaning down with you to place a swift kiss on your furrowed brows. He straightened up at the foot of the bed, his hands reaching for your calves.

“You want to cum?” He asked, his fingers wrapping around your legs to pull you down the bed and closer to where he stood. “I’ll make you cum, over and over again.” That was a promise.

Your lips parted with shock, words scattering from your tongue as his hands travelled over yours knees and grabbed at your thighs. He pried your legs apart, exposing your cunt to him. The last view you captured of him was the way his eyes traced your exposed lower half, a barely noticeable smirk pulling at one corner of his lips. Then, his head dipped into you, his tongue flat and rough on your folds.

You threw your head back into the sheets, your fingers instantly curling into the material as if it were the only thing keeping you grounded and preventing you from getting carried away into another universe. Coriolanus was conscious to strike his nose against your tender clit every so often, clearly enjoying the way it sent a jerk through your body. It was like his own personal control-switch to play with. You were too exhausted to limit the noises that you produced for him, so everything came out a loud and blabbering mess. You didn’t ever want to stop being touched this way.

Coriolanus was a clean man. He liked to keep his hair tamed, his jaw void of any developing beard that he felt would deface his appearance. But it had to have been a week since his last shave, you thought. You could feel the faint stubble poking through, grazing your intimate area as he ravished you below. It was the perfect addition to your arousal, adding just enough noise to push you into overstimulation.

You fought the urge to lift your lower half from the sheets, to greedily claim a deeper thrust of his tongue. He wouldn’t take kindly to that, and you didn’t think you had the capacity to endure any more teasing. Instead, you opened your thighs even wider, your hands releasing the comforter to grip at your breasts.

Coriolanus approved of your behaviour, his praise coming in the form of his tongue up your entrance. You let slip a breathy gasp, your jaw clenching at the lightning that seemed to obscure your vision.

“Fuck, Coriolanus,” you drawled, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Please—let me cum!”

He hummed against your clit, the vibrations serving as the fucking icing on top of this sex-themed cake. You core knotted, your breath catching in your throat. Your eyes screwed shut, the pressure building and building and threatening to spill over as Coriolanus’ tongue picked up the pace. He twirled your clit around, his fingers pinching at your thighs, and just like that, your body released all the tension of the evening.

Your chest bobbed up and down with heavy breathing, not feeling as though you could bear to open your eyes. It’s only when you felt Coriolanus’ warmth withdraw from your thighs that you lifted your head to glance up at him. He straightened up and met your gaze with an impressed look, his perfect lips offering a smile—a genuine smile. The sight set off butterflies in your stomach. He was proud of you and your performance.

“You did well, dove,” he praised.

You beamed at his compliment, words not easily extracted from him. The sheen on his jaw caught your attention, your heart jolting with shame to see him absolutely doused in your juice. It trailed well down his neck and onto his chest, making a point to follow the natural contours of his pecs.

“I’m sorry—“ a hand flew to your mouth, hardly believing that you’d produced a mess of that magnitude.

“Sorry?” Coriolanus mocked, his perfect teeth flashing in a laugh. “Don’t be. It’s a compliment. You show your appreciation like a real woman, just the way I like it.”

You watched as his hands lowered to his red trousers, his fingers moving to undo the button. You glanced back at him in alarm.

“You didn’t think we were done just yet?” He asked, his smile turning wicked as he unzipped his trousers and pulled it down. “I edged you twice,” he explained. “And I’d like to think I’m a fair man. So,” he paused and lowered his underwear, which freed his erection. “I owe you another good time.”

He stepped out from the last of his clothing, towering over your body as he inched his way toward you. “I won’t lie, though,” he murmured once he’d reached your ear. “I’m doing this mostly for me. I think I’ve waited long enough to feel you, really feel you.”

You glanced up at him, your eyes large and pleading like a pathetic mutt begging for scraps. “I don’t think I can take any more, Coriolanus.”

“Did it feel good, what you did just now?”

“It felt like heaven,” you told him softly.

“Then this time will feel like being completely reborn,” Coriolanus insisted, his hand relocating hair from your sticky face. “And even if it doesn’t, you’ll push through because this is your punishment, and punishment is not always meant to be enjoyable.”

You glanced off to the side, hating how much the cold look in his eyes stirred something inside of you.

Coriolanus found satisfaction in the way his words kept you silent. He grabbed your chin and turned you back to him, his thumb pressing into your lower lip before he planted a hollow kiss in its stead. He placed his forearm beside your head, leaning onto that side as his other hand reached down for his cock. He gave a lazy pump across his hard length, a pathetic attempt at spreading his pre-cum. He didn’t need to do any better, not when your drenched cunt offered enough lubrication for him to enter without a struggle.

And it did, without a single hitch, as he pushed himself inside of you. Your soft gasp sounded in his ear, his attention still trained below. Once he was sure he was properly inside of you, he turned his head up and placed his arm on the other side of your head. You felt so warm and welcoming, definitely a lot more relaxed than the previous times he’d stuck his cock inside of you.

He began to thrust, not having much patience to start slow and gradually build up the pressure. This entire evening had been leading up to this moment, the opportunity for him to be in this exact position. He’d spent all of his patience, now he just needed to finish what he’d set out to do. He was pleased to feel your hands snake beneath his arms and take up a hold on his back, that is until your nails suddenly sunk into his skin.

He let out pained moan, his gaze growing fierce at the satisfaction on your face. Two could play that game. He withdrew his length a far way out, his tip almost slipping from your entrance entirely, before he rammed himself back inside with an animalistic thrust. His tip collided with your g-spot, a harsh and sudden greeting to the sensitive area.

You let out a scream, your stomach lifting against him. Before you could process the shock, he rammed into you again, and again, and again. Each time, he returned with the same force, and not once did he fail to miss his target. Your nails in his skin continued to sink deeper, the both of you reduced to nothing more than grunting and gasping.

The bed creaked with every movement, the room echoing with the raw percussion of your skin-on-skin contact. Coriolanus bucked into you with such aggression that he began to moan with every sway of his hips. His hands, trapping your head on either side, slipped behind your head to grip at your hair. He yanked, opening up your neck to him. You moaned as his lips buried against your skin, the tip of his nose flattening into you as his teeth sought out your skin.

His movements became jerky, his teeth gritted as he grunted against your neck. You slipped a hand from his back to bury it into his hair, fastening your fingers around his blond wisps that had turned curly from the sweat of his activity.

“I’m going to cum,” he breathed into your neck, his hand flying to one of your thighs. He pulled it up to wrap around his lower half, his thrusts growing violently needy. “Fuck,” he spat, then called your name desperately. You felt too good, especially now that your walls seemed to clench around him—he knew that you were close, too.

Your second orgasm arrived, the hot wetness pooling around his length. He couldn’t maintain his control anymore. At last, he gave himself over to his pleasure, his movements becoming sluggish as he felt his release inside of you. He didn’t stop his thrusts, not until he felt himself empty every last drop inside of you.

Coriolanus collapsed beside you, his hand finding your cheek and pulling your head against his chest. For many minutes, nobody spoke, each one struggling to regain their breath. His other hand held your lower body against him, keeping his cock secure inside of you. He could feel your mingled juices leaking along his thigh and onto the sheets, a mess he didn’t mind right now.

You burrowed into Coriolanus’ arm, a tired sigh leaving your lips. “Fucking hell,” was all you could manage to say after an ordeal like this. Tonight had been his most brutal fuck thus far.

Your body ached everywhere, and you weren’t sure your swollen clit would ever forgive you for what you’d brought upon it. You supposed it served you right for trying to make him jealous by flirting with another man. You’d never stupidly test his limits that way again, that was for sure. You two laid in comfortable silence, riding out the last of your highs.

“Coriolanus,” you called to him softly, your fingers playing with his. “Do you love me?”

Coriolanus tilted his head down to you, his eyes widening at the sudden question. His lips parted to say something, but he quickly bit on his tongue. It was clear that your need for his attention had grown into something more profound, that you’d started to care about him in more than just what he had to offer your body. He turned his gaze up to the roof. “My position doesn’t permit me the time to love,” he answered carefully.

Your hair shuffled against his arm as you sat yourself up to face him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He turned his gaze back onto you, calling your name softly. “I have goals to achieve in this world. It leaves little time for relationships.”

Your eyes held disappointment. “Then what’s the point of all of this?”

“The point,” Coriolanus said, taking your hand into his, his thumb rubbing comforting circles across your skin. “Is that we keep each other company, offer a comfort that others couldn’t gift us even if they tried. We satisfy each other in ways that only we know how to.”

“So I’m just a source of entertainment to you?” You snapped, attempting to pull your hand from his, but his grasp on you tightened.

“Am I anything different to you?” He asked, his tone level, his cool eyes challenging. “Don’t mount a high horse, not when you entered this knowing exactly what you were in for. I take care of you and I make you feel good—that’s plenty more than you would’ve gotten back in the district and in any other location in the Capitol, for that matter. Would you rather go back to your district, back to a cold bed and an empty stomach with nobody to rely on? Maybe you’d rather I put you on the market for as some Capitol slut looking for her next sponsor. I can make that happen—“

“No!” You interrupted, your hard eyes thawing with a look of horror, like you’d recalled all the terrible memories of your life in the district. It was far from pleasant, a past you’d have liked to forget for good. You had nobody, nothing to return to.

As for the Capitol, you knew that there were infinite weirdos and perverts that would marvel at the opportunity to get their hands on a hunger games victor, especially one that had been branded by Coriolanus Snow more than once. You could only imagine what sort of prize that made you, a collectible to be displayed. The thought made your stomach turn.

“I don’t want that,” you said, your head lowering in defeat. “I just want you.”

Coriolanus’s eyes raked across your figure, so slumped in submission and hopelessness. He realised then just how much he’d broken you, reshaped you into a lapdog that would only eat directly out of his hand. “Good,” he murmured. “I want you, too. Only you.” His free hand moved to cup your chin, tilting it to face him. “And maybe. . . you could teach me how to love.”

Your eyes widened at those words, the hand clasped in his going stiff. He tugged at you, pulling you into him. Your head found its way nuzzled into the crook of his neck, his chin moving to rest atop your head. He continued to play with your fingers, his other arm cushioning your neck and holding you against him. He felt your breathing slow into an easy sleep, your warm breath flushing against his chest. He closed his own eyes, breathing deeply at the sweet scent radiating from your hair. He allowed it to lull him to sleep, mulling over your interaction.

He’d known the truth for years already—that his heart bore no capacity for love. It had saddened him, at first, made him feel as though he’d been formed wrong in the womb. His father had loved his mother enough to bring him into this world—his cousin, Tigris, had loved him, too, to the point where she’d have sacrificed everything to ensure that he’d survived the war. Sejanus, too, had loved him like a brother, trusted him with all that he was, and it had ultimately killed him.

All his life, Coriolanus had been cradled with love, but he’d been forever cursed with the inability to return it. It had taken him years to accept it, until one day, everything had clicked into place.

Perhaps he wasn’t meant to love, not when the world had become a disastrous mess in need of order, in need of somebody to bring it to that stage. He knew then that he could offer the order that Panem needed. Peace came at the cost of blood, and blood came at the cost of strength. Strength meant that love had no place and no say in the hard decisions to be made, for its love that made you vulnerable, and vulnerability was a weakness. He didn’t bear that weakness, and he never would.

As for you? Well, you were somewhat of a complicated matter as of now. When it came down to it—the decision between you and his destiny, he’d choose destiny without a doubt. But for now, he’d keep you close. He’d shower you with attention, spoil you with his touch, offer you everything you’ve ever wanted in a partner. And once you’ve lost all worth to him, he’d discard of you.

Coriolanus knew that his path was one headed straight for the top, to claim the title of president of Panem. All that he’d done to get here, everything that he’d achieved up until now, it was all just the beginning. He was glad now—that he could not find it in himself to love anyone. It left him free of any liabilities, gave his enemies not even a fraction of power to hurt him.

For it’s the things we love most that destroy us.

════════════════════════

You MUST know I had to include that iconic line

Anyways, I’m sincerely sorry that this fic is like 15k words. I always tell myself to keep it simple but I’ve literally got no say over what happens once my fingers start typing away. I hope you all have enjoyed this read. I’m not TOO sure how I feel about it, but I think I’ve just gotten to the point where I’ve proof-read it so much that I honestly can’t stand it anymore.

This is my first every coryo fic and it was incredibly daunting to write, considering that he is such a complex character to portray and because I unintentionally resorted to flowing between his and the reader’s perspective, which I usually hate, but shit happens. I’ve never read the books (I am getting them for my birthday yay) so it was difficult to get inside of his mind given that I’ve never trod there before. In any case, I hope that I did his character justice in this blabbering mess, even if I did add my own sadistic twist lmao.

MERRY CHRISTMAS MY LOVELIES🎄

Your comments & reblogs are always appreciated. Thank you!! ~

I take requests (so long as I’m comfortable writing it) <3

════════════════════════

#tom blyth #billy the kid #young coriolanus snow #tom blyth x reader #coryo snow #coryo x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow fic #coriolanus imagine #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid x you #coryo smut #coriolanus fanfiction

643 notes · View notes