#content warning: c-word

[katesfoxhole]

As far as I've been able to determine, Mordian and the Mordian Iron Guard first appeared in the 2e Codex: Imperial Guard (or possibly White Dwarf 184 but they came out around the same time). And then nothing happened for 17 years. No new lore was added until Mark Clapham's novel Iron Guard came out in 2012, and even he only added one little tidbit--that people living on the dark side of a tidally locked planet tended to like bright colors.

I am writing some fanfic featuring a Mordian regiment, and I've made up a few headcanons or my own.

One is that, reflecting their tidally locked world, they tend toward a kind of binary thinking. Both men and women can serve in the Iron Guard, but regiments are segregated by sex (the Cain novels outright state this is the norm for the Imperial Guard anyway. And of course, nothing's stopping the Munitorum from pulling a 597th if you want a mixed regiment; the Adeptus Terra don't giveadam about some silly local custom). It's fine to be gay, but not bi or pan--pick a side, fence-sitter. Same with gender--being trans is okay as long as you cross over completely; no boymoding, no being genderqueer or agender.

(In case it needs to be said, these are not supposed to be good things btw, this is a flaw, a cultural blind spot.)

Presumably nothing naturally grows on Mordian--the day side is blasted by instantly-lethal amounts of solar radiation and the night side is, well, always nighttime. The only place on Mordian where you see plant life is in manmade gardens and greenhouses. So I've written my Mordians to be weirded out by nature. Their dialect of Low Gothic doesn't even have words for things that are not manmade--that isn't a forest up ahead, it's a very tangled and untidy orchard. How dare the trees grow wherever they want to instead of in neat rows?

I have an unwritten scene where some HQ POGs are making fun of a Mordian recon report: "Are they still calling the river a canal?" "Give 'em a break, they've never SEEN a river before."

They are also--at first--absolutely terrified of sunlight. After all, on their homeworld, dayside = instant radioactive death. The first time they land on an earthlike world, a commissar has to almost shoot someone to get them off the dropship.

Canon Mordian names tend to sound Germanic. I've expanded that to include names from other mid-European sources, particularly Estonian, Lithuanian, and Ukranian. Presumably a lot of the original settlers came from that part of Earth.

It's not as hard as it sounds to keep those fancy uniforms clean. Mordian has an STC for high-tech, moisture- and dirt-repelling fabrics. Textiles are one of the planet's chief trade goods. Mordian Iron Guard are positively horrified by soldiers from other worlds who show up in grubby cotton twill. Yeah, it's hard to stay clean while soldiering in the field, which is why you don't want your uniform making it worse by ABSORBING sweat and dirt omg.

Iron Guard officers wear gold gorgets similar to the ones popular in 18th-19th century European armies. Senior noncoms and NCO vehicle commanders wear silver ones. I'm not the only one who's had this idea.

As a joke, I've named one of the hives on Mordian--not the capital--Dsenta Vitta. I bent it out of a mishmash of Latin and Estonian and it means, roughly, "where those cunts landed". This is an ancient name, going back to first settlement, and to the Mordians its meaning has of course long since been lost to antiquity.

Anyway, those are my Mordian headcanons. I would definitely be insterested in anyone else's, if you have them.

"Why is the sky leaking!?" "It's called rain. We were briefed on this."

[keitrinkomfloukru]

Tumblr has RUINED me. This used to be the MOST FORBIDDEN WORD. I'm from New Jersey, I've been swearing like a sailor since 5th grade but I never ever touched that one.

Now it's like nbd and I have to remember to not use it at work.

“cunt” is such a nono word in the US, not even just when used misogynistically but just in general. Like worse than “fuck,” idk, we just hate saying it over here. but its entered my vocabulary from gay ppl and drag and I forget i can’t just be talking to my mom and describe something as cunty.

[debbiechanclub]

You really learn what words you like and don't like using when writing smut

[tonycries]

KNOTTY GIRL!

Synopsis. Your boyfriend’s in his rút? No worries! Of course, you’re there to help.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, omégaverse AU, alpha!JJK men, RÚTS, knóts, bréeding, ínnappropriate use of jujutsu techniques, jealousy (Toji’s side), slight fóodplay (Nanami), making Sukuna BREAK, cúmplay, spítting, PÚSSYDRUNK JJK MEN, mentions of kids, true form Sukuna, dp, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. Last day of k!nktober, this month was lovely and so were y’all.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Mine, doll.

Truthfully, you shouldn’t even be here - you shouldn’t have dared to step through Toji’s firmly shut door for a reason. 

Because he’d already warned you he wasn’t going to be himself once his rut hit, already musing that your cute lil’ self won’t be able to keep up with him this day. This week.

Yet, here you were - folded into such a mean mating press. 

“Toji.” you’re hiccuping when he furiously fists the thickened base of his cock, giving one, two tight squeezes before drooling out in stringy wads of cum from the reddish divot on his fat head, smearing your puffy folds in a sweltering white, white gloss. “D-don’t be such a hngh- tease-”

And he can only grin, “Shoulda thought of that before ya came up hah- begging for my cock, doll.” Tapping the hot curve of his still-hard tip in a sopping wet thwack! thwack! thwack! on your puffed-up clit. You’re watching with glassy eyes as his thick thumb smears over the milky dredges of cum. Popping it shamelessly into his mouth, “Because this pretty pussy is mine now, ma.” 

Just the thought has him wrenching out an animalistic groan. Using his inhuman strength to haul you even further down the sinfully soaked silken sheets, he throws your trembly legs over two broad, sculpted shoulders. 

You moan and Toji can’t help but snicker. Can’t help but throw his head back with a sleazy grin, “I t-told ya not to catch me like this, needy girl.” Eyes glowing, dragging that pert scar of his smugly down the side of your ankle, before plugging you full- “Now, jus’ sit back n’ let me make a pretty momma outta ya.”

He grunts once your velvety walls close in around his heavy girth, massaging down the sensitive divots of his rock-hard shaft. Shit, he was going to spend every waking minute of this week making you memorize it. 

Viciously he snaps his hips down, bulging knot kissing your swollen folds with a wet thwack! thwack! thwack!

“D-didn’t think you’d be so mean.” you’re puckering your glossed lips into a pout. Gliding your fingers across his rippling abs, it makes his hulking body just shiver, hips stuttering sloppily. 

“D-d-d-didn’t think this cunt of yours would be so slutty.” he’s mocking in his baritone rumble, big beefy arms caging you in to split you apart with every swollen inch of his massive cock. Fucking out those utterly bratty words on your tongue. 

Toji’s thick digits curl firmly around your throat, running a fat thumb down the side of your still-unmarked scent gland. He positively titters at the way you jolt, “So would ya ah- c-care to explain why my girl s’suddenly smellin’ like fuckass Shiu?”

Fuck - you’d forgotten. Being too caught up with Toji to remember how you’d run to the other alpha to understand how to help your dear boyfriend, still wafting with his smokey sweet scent.

Your inner omega whines, clawing to prove him wrong. “N-No–” The words are barely falling from your stupidly drunken mouth before your voice just hitches, strangling out the remnants of a syrupy moan that makes him twitch. “P-promise I jus’ met him to h-help-”

But oh, Toji was more animal than man right now.

A thundering growl cracks at the very back of his throat, rummaging at the very bottom of your pussy with no mercy. And no apologies, either. “Is that so?” His teeth nip on your lips, “Heheh, sure tha’s right. But when I’m done with you-” And something oozing from his tone told you that Toji didn’t mean it to be “done” for a long, long time. “-every other fucker’s gonna look at you n’ know you’re mine.”

The bed creaks riotously when he’s bucking his toned hips into you so hard that you see Toji’s creamy skin redden. 

And Toji was always massive - but in rut he couldn’t stop all the blood pumping twofold into his expansive girth, nudging past every bruised sweet spot and even more. 

“My pretty girl- fuck- even prettier full w’me-” he’s spitting wetly into your pathetically slack lips. Peppering eager kisses down your cheek, your neck, your collarbone, lolling his tongue out to suck on your tits. 

His eyes were drooping shut, mouth babbling out drunken purrs of your name. “Fuck- fuck when m’gonna ngh- have these girls all swollen f’me.” One of his hands attach thoroughly at your breasts, circling his fingers over where your nipples were the most sensitive. And he’s smashing into you so rawly, sneaking his fingers all glistening with cum into your already snugly stuffed cunt. Plugging more in and in. “Fill you up so much yer gonna ngh- gonna feel me for months-”

“Yes yes yes-” you’re sobbing out, being fucked utterly stupid on his cock. “Wan’ ah- wan’ it so bad, Toji.”

He chuckles out smugly when your teary sweet lips glide across his in a messy kiss, tightening the fingers around your throat to crane your pretty neck upwards. Into a proper kiss, pinkish lips wrapped around your tongue - he sucks.

“You don’t just ‘want’ it, ma.” His pants grow harsh, shuddering, stars bursting behind his dewy, dark eyes every time your spongy cervix makes his slams recoil backwards. “Yer gonna need it.”

Your spine curves so deliciously upwards into his front when the two long digits sunken into your entrance spread just enough for your sloppy hole to be fed Toji’s achy knot. Pinning you down with his pressurized weight to stop your squirmy wrangling. 

“Gonna need me in ya, so hah- much that this sweet lil’ pussy’s gonna be twice her size, heh-” Those obscenities in his voice make you gasp. “All round n’ gorgeous- they’ll hngh know what I’ve done. Every single fucking one s’gonna look at you and see me me me-” He sinks his teeth into your scent gland, hard.Bonding. “Cos’ you’re mine, doll.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - More, more, more

“K-Ken, s’everything alright?” Your voice trembles with the tiniest whimper when you’re whirling your glassy eyes over your shoulder, meeting your husband’s darkened ones locked on you.

“Of course, my love.” Comes Nanami’s answer - but, shit, you already knew better. “J-just keep doing what you’re doing.”

There’s such a sodden drag of clothes on clothes resounding throughout your cozy kitchen, and your fingers shake where you were whisking a batch of sweet, sweet frosting. 

Because you could already catch the way his words broke into a gruff moan, the slight shiver in his Adam’s apple as his hot, thickened cockhead twitches ferally. Hips buck up against you desperately. 

He’d come home to you in rut. 

He was needy, bothered. Barely even changed out of his work clothes before he’s clutching roughly onto the fabric of your apron.

You’re whining, “Ken– we needa get you-”

“Shhh my pretty wife, m’alright, m’alright. Don’t- ngh! Worry about me, darling. Just-” He gulps before loosening his favorite yellow tie - the room too hot. Scent glands puffing out another heatwave of his expensive pine smell, his massive hands trace down the curve of your hips. Mindlessly. Kneading.

SMACK!

Shit, he didn’t even mean to do that. 

But oh how you gasp so prettily at Nanami’s unusually harsh treatment, the barely-there sound being instantly picked up by his sharpened senses. Restless. Mouth watering. 

God, he could cum just like this. He was ruined for you.

“M’alright jus’ a rut- keep doing- hngh-” he gasps, a feverish puff against your ear as your bodies glissade across one another. “Jus’- ahh- fuck- jus’ need a bit more, my love.” Free hand dancing down your forearm to help you stir your bowl, the other ravenously leading a hot trailway to the hem of your cotton shorts. Pulling - tearing. 

Your shorts are left nothing but tatters on the floor, and Nanami’s throwing his head back with a drunken grin. Eyes falling half-shut at the absolute mess your cunt has made, dribbling a glossy sheen down your inner thighs.

Yeah, shit, this was what he’d left work early for. 

And you could tell he was still staring, still gleaming a translucent coating with just a single roll of his thumb over your throbbing clit. Dragging the very edge of his fingernail down, down, down the crevice of your pretty pussy lips. 

And he’d do it all over again.

You moan - and as soon as you do, you’re finding yourself shoved onto the cool tile of the kitchen counter as Nanami doubles over. “M-more?”

His teeth grit, canines bared, grunts of your name spilling over and over when he hovers them over your racing pulse. Sweat-slicked strands of blond tickle your nose when he’s heaving out, “Yes, darling- j-jus’ a bit more. Just a bit.” One hand of his curls around your throat, wrangling you into such a sweet, sweet french kiss. “-I need it- fuck- need it- s’alright, is it?”

Yes yes yes, your inner omega was keening out to him. Your own shaky fingers tugging lightly on his hair in a way that makes him nip at your mating mark. 

But Nanami didn’t even need that to already know your answer by the way your hip squirm back in wet, swiveling gyrations. Again. And again and again. Honeyed little movements that make him gasp. 

“Shit- ohhh, smell so good- need you so badly-” his gentle baritone voice breaks with something primal. You flinch at the echoing clatter of his belt onto the hardwood floors, and the feeling of something steaming hot pressing into your skin. “Need- you- fuck, didn’t think I’d even make it this hah- long. Been thinkin’ about breeding this sweet cunt all day.”

Then he’s kissing down the very edge of your drooling pussy with a sweeping swipe! of his fat head. Peaking in just the very beginnings of that sinful curve, meshing your sopping folds with his prominent veins that thump thump thump away against your cunt. 

Enough to have him panting - crying out. Pound after pound.

“Stuffin’ ya full- Oh god, y-you have no idea what you do to me-” Nanami’s strict brows furrow into the tightest knit, and his words take on a ragged tone that makes you clench. An obscene little action that he feels against the very tip of his achy cock, gushing out a sticky slosh of precum that sticks to you like a second skin. “No- hah- wait- no no no no- keep ‘er open f’me, my love.”

Those toying fingers on your clit give a sudden pull at the very peak of the sensitive nub - leaving your body wracking with shudders long enough to have Nanami splitting you apart. 

The bowl is knocked over now, and Nanami takes the opportunity to lace his fingers with yours into the most innocent little hold. Dragging your intertwined hands up for him to press a flurry of pecks onto, sucking up that sugary sweet mess on your digits. 

Something you barely even register with how deliciously he was stretching out your snug insides, fucking out each and every thought in your hazy mind with quick, shallow grinds just to fit inside. “Spit.” he’s gritting his teeth at the feeble resistance, and he can feel the way your cunt gapes all around him. “Spit in m’mouth-” 

You do, Nanami groaning appreciatively, gaze flurrying shut. Your puffed-out folds bulging around his hefty cock, snapping deeply into you. Again and again.

All the way until-

“Hah- shit- jus’ a bit more-” Nanami’s groaning, eyes narrowing over his now-disarrayed glasses when he’s greedily thumbing apart your slick-glossed folds. Eyeing himself all stuffed and overspilling inside you, your sloppy hole trying desperately to milk his fattened knot. Clenching around the very tip of the bulge. “Fuck back into me now, darling- ah- fuck back into me n’ lemme make you a pretty momma- jus’ a bit more.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Tongue-twister

Just a taste. Just one.

Two.

Four.

Over and over. Whenever Geto Suguru was on his rut, he couldn’t think of a better heaven than where he was right now - locked in-between those pretty thighs of yours. With you splayed out on the tatami mats of his firmly shut bedroom, your legs on his muscled shoulders, drenched panties pulled just enough to the side to stuff your puffed-up clit in his drunken mouth.

“S-Suguru–”

You feel a sudden - barely-there - nip at the very peak of your sodden sensitive bud. Not enough to hurt, but enough to have your entire body jolting with electricity, Geto snickering against your swollen folds. 

“Fine- hngh Sugu–” you’re crying out, fingers interlacing in his long, soft strands in a pathetically useless attempt to drag him from making out with your poor overworked pussy. “I don’ know- ah if I can cum a-again.” 

That has him quirking up a dark brow in question, parting with your drippingly wet cunt with a gasping grunt of disappointment. You can only watch when his overly-glossed bottom lip wobbles, “Don’t want you to cum again, gorgeous.” He’s pouting, delicate strings of slick snapping with every peck after peck planted on your clit. “I want you to squirt–”

Oh, god, he was hypnotized.

Barely being able to get out the words before reattaching his sly lips down to your own, meshing them in a sopping wet french kiss. It leaves you bucking, and he distantly wonders whether he’d see the imprint of the tatami on your back tomorrow. “Y-you’re so addicted, Sugu-”

“No m’not.” Geto’s pulling out a sudden squelch as he spits a sudden wad of thick, silvery spit down onto the very middle of your puffy pussy lips. Smearing a thumb down between them up and down up and down- before swirling those slender digits easily past your sloppy hole. “S’not my fault you’re so hngh- irresistible- s’yours.”

Shit, to be honest, Geto couldn’t even register what he was saying right now. Couldn’t think of anything but the way you tasted so sweet on his tongue - as syrupy as that scent of yours was puffing out. He wanted- needed more more more-

He’s grinding his painfully aching cock down like some animal, slithering down his free hand to knead over the bulging shaft in quick, solid slides. 

Matching the pace of those two fingers massaging your gummy walls. So hot inside it’s like you were melting, milking his fingers so plianty with every languid push and pull into your g-spot.

“Jus’ one more taste– hah- hold up my hair, can’t see- yeahhh jus’ like that.” Geto’s whining once your trembly fingers wrap tight to collect his stray locks, giving you the perfect view of his high cheeks hollowing. Rosy pink lips wrap around your clit to suck once more. And if his voice cracked ever-so-slightly at the end, well, he was only grateful that his beautiful girl was too fucked-out to notice right now. “S’not addicted if I only want one more- is it? C’mon, honey- please, honey, for me?”

Every groan has such lewd shockwaves sprinting through all your veins, and the sheer overstimulation makes big fat tears well up behind your eyes. God, it was too much. 

Noticing, he’s letting out such calming pheromones of sandalwood - enough to make you dizzily babble out, “Think I’m- ahh- think m’close- Sugu–” To bring you close. Something was pulling taut, knotting in your stomach almost painfully. 

Suddenly, the heady room resounds with a wet gasp - and only later do you realize that it came from Geto himself.

Because oh, are you cumming - and it’s pulled out from all of Geto’s filthiest wet dreams. Because not only do you cum, you’re squirting all down the lower half of his pretty face. Your thighs squeezing tighter and tighter around his head with each crashing wave of pleasure. 

“Shit- ngh-” you’re sobbing out, cheeks wet with all the big, bulbous tears that your high brings. “Oh fuck- Sugu m’cumming m’cumming n’ s’all your fault- ah-”

“M’not addicted.” Is all he can spit out into your convulsing pussy, over and over like his own personal mantra. And it’s only when your orgasm bates into mere tingles, when your eyes roll back down from the back of your head, head just slightly clearer that he can manage to rip himself away. 

Still, groaning gutturally at the loss of your sweet, sweet cunt - he looked so pretty this way. 

Dark hair untamed, curtaining his glassy, pussydrunken eyes. Practically glowing in the dim lighting, devouring you just as much as his mouth had. Glossy, it drip! drip! drips down onto your shaky thighs with every bead of your juices he’d lapped up. Leaving a syrupy aftertaste on his tongue and shit, was he hooked. 

In a split-second, Geto’s smoothly towering his body over yours, placing a sodden kiss right on your lips to let you taste all the honeyed sweetness yourself. 

But just as you were distracted by how rudely he was claiming your tongue, you’re feeling the sharp smack! of something hard and swelteringly hot on your shamelessly spread pussy. His knot.

And then the squelch of ribbon after ribbon of Geto’s hot cum spurting out. Over and over. 

His body half-collapses onto yours, every gushing wave of sticky seed so violent that his head throws back, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Shit, orgasms during a rut always did crash headfirst. Always did have his furiously weepy head dripping out in overly voluminous dredges of thick cum.

“Jus’ ohhh- one more t-taste before I hngh- breed this cute cunt.” Geto hiccups, wet lashes batting up at you in a lazy way from in-between your legs. Long tongue dragging over the mess, smearing across the sheen of white. Every single pearlescent wisp - only to spit it back out onto your cunt. “For now.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - “Please…”

You’re snapping your head down at Choso teary plea, pecking at the corner of his wobbly lips. All pinkened and kissed raw, wobbling when he begs, “F-for my first knot can I oh- cum inside, baby?”

Shit, your poor boyfriend was so pretty looking up at you with his twinkling, dewy eyes like this. His creamy skin flushed, twitchy fingers craning upwards to grab at the headboard to keep some sense of his sanity when you glide your dripping wet cunt down his cock.

His mouth gasps open in a feverish puff of your name over and over when your gooey walls in turn just squeeze around his sweltering hot girth. Velvety walls sucking up every thrumming vein down his length.

“Please— ah-” Choso’s breath hitches upwards in both volume and pitch when your hips slam down in a particularly harsh squelch! Mouth lolling open at both the filthy way you were riding him and your teasing silence. “Baby- oh, baby please say- s-something-”

You can’t stop your syrupy giggle from escaping your lips, “Awww, m’sorry Cho, What did you say you wanted again?”

And Choso has always been the type to be so greedy when he has you in bed - but you’ve never seen him like this. His first ever rut - a late bloomer - and oh, did that make him extra sensitive. 

Mouth slacking open into a broken cry, frustrated droplets of sweat beading down his forehead, his slender hips just rut upwards in a pressurized thrust that has your sloppy pussy dragging down every one of his swollen inches. 

Spearheading so deliriously deep, his length swirls around to easily massage your tenderized sweet spots.

So needy.

“Want to- want to cum inside–” he whines, thick lashes fluttering at the heavenly feeling inside you. You feel two of his soft palms attach themselves to your hips, bleary gazing tilting downwards to watch himself grind up, up, up trying desperately to squeeze his achingly fat knot into your tight pussy. “Wanna make ya a momma. T-to breed my pretty omega, please- S’calling to me- it hurts ah-”

“My poor baby–” you’re humming, with that honeyed tone of yours that makes the very end of his furiously leaky cock twitch. Leaning down to kiss away his big, pearlescent tears, “You sure you want to-”

“Yes!” he’s cutting you off with a long, dragged-out groan. Head throwing back over and over into the plush pillows when he’s feeling your snug, swollen pussy lips spread over the bulging curve of his knot. Bit by bit. “Yes yes yes- please more- hngh- t-take it all– needa-” One of his thumbs caresses right over where he knew your womb to be, feeling for the nudge of his thick, bulbous head swipe a wet glide across your walls. “-need to make you mine here, too.”

Just as he’s pressing the thick curve of his thumb down hard, both of your ravenous bodies glide together in a harsh ram. 

And shit - you already knew by the way that Choso’s dilated eyes roll to the back of his head, the way his biceps flex with a wracking shudder, the sudden cracking moan of your name - that he’d plugged you full of his knot.

With a gasp your heady senses catch up around the staggeringly wide stretch. The way this was all it took for your elastic walls to constrict around him, being pushed to your very limits. Pulled taut.

Then and only then do the both of you realize that both of you are cumming. 

Your toes curling, moaning out a shrill, “Shit- shit shit shit- I’m–” Before the zaps of white-hot pleasure take over your mind, being fucked pathetically stupid on Choso’s raging cock. 

His feet plant flat on the silken sheets to buck up in meeting your sloppy staccato, his hipbones smack into yours in hard kisses to drag out your pleasure. 

“Yes- oh god.” It’s just about all that he can whimper out right now, and he’s boring his eyes up at you like you were one. Strong arms wrap around your still-shivering waist, until Choso was whispering in hot puffs against your ear, “Gonna fill this ah fuck- t-tight pussy.” Nodding you through every thick wad of seed knocking at your womb, drool dripping down each side of his lips. It overspills - from both lips. “Y-you’ll take it right? Every drop? Gonna hngh- make me a fuck- daddy, right, baby–?”

Fuck, right now all you can do is squeal. 

Let yourself be easily manhandled by all of Choso’s strength when he flips the two of you over, kneeing apart your thighs to fold you in half for him. A thorough mating press, “Yeah- yeah you are-” he breathes into your lips. “She’s gonna have my eyes- n’ your p-pretty smile ah- n’ she’ll call ya ‘momma’ and ohh-”

Just then, for how badly Choso wanted you all full of his knot, he finds himself bawling at the way his stuttering hips can no longer thrust into you back and forth. Locked in place.

“Still gotta-” he’s gasping out through wet licks up the tears streaming down your face. And there’s something so darkly primal in Choso’s tone - something there to send shivers down your spine, to remind you exactly what he is in a rut. “-gotta fill ya up more, ngh- m’still so hard- still cumming, baby.” Furiously, he’s grinding his hips in needy gyrations, weepy cock surging further and further to knock up against your g-spot. “Still need to- breed- you-”

One of Choso’s palms comes pressing down hard onto where his cum was sloshing around your inner walls, and with the dredges of creamy white that spill out - so does his slightly-softened knot.

Enough for him to grin such a dangerous grin. 

Drunken, humorless. Whispering, “Please, baby- c-can my second knot be inside, t-too?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - NO CONTROL!

“Fuck-” you’re hearing Sukuna’s ragged grunt against your ear, low and dark in a way that only his deep baritone could be. “Fuck.”

Oh how you wanted to ask him what was wrong - you wanted to raise your bleary eyes from the silken pillows spread across his royal bed. 

But Sukuna was plummeting his hefty cock into you so deeply, pound after pound that has you scrambling to catch your breath desperately. His thick head was branding circular bruises at the very end of your spongy cervix, girthy shaft stretching you from the inside out. 

And this was only his human form.

He curses at the clingy grip of your gooey walls, unable to tear his devilishly red eyes away from how well your sodden folds were puffed up around him. Milking his staggering size so well.

It has his kiss-bitten lips a little looser than he’d have liked, “Fuck, this filthy pussy of yours mighta jus’ th-thrown me into a rut, brat.”

“What?” you’re gasping, all the air tucked away in your lungs being fucked with another shuddering slam into you. Your limbs tremble where you’re bounced against his hard front on all fours, barely managing to choke out, “Y-you’re in a rut, Kuna?”

“Heh, yes.”

Sukuna can’t help but bark out a rumbling bout of laughter at the way your pretty mouth falls slack. Drool dripping down the side of your lips in a way that he really can’t help but crane over his hulking body to lick. A long, languid drag of his tastebuds.

“Yeahhh- really did kickstart my hah- rut. You naughty girl- now I hafta breed this cute cunt.” Five of his thick fingers kiss the very curve of your ass in a sudden swat, and the sting makes your cunt drool down his inches. Gliding down in a greedy trail to curl around the urgent swelling at his already-thick hilt, he swipes at the syrupy translucent beads of your slick pooling at the very top. “Yet, how come you’re more hngh- affected than me, huh, silly girl?”

Laughably, the only things that your blabbing mouth could get out right now were a few cockdrunken whines and whimpers. 

Music to Sukuna’s ears. That is, until-

“Hah! Sukuna!”

That makes him snap his scrunched eyes open - shit, when did he even close them? Sculpted, broad chest heaving with shuddering inhales for air, and a sudden wave of fatigue mixed with the saccharine sweet high of being sunken into your drooling pussy hits him.

It has him handling two of his hands into a bruising grip on the small of your waist, and the other two-

Other two?

“Y-you–” you’re mewling, each one of your throaty moans spilling and slurring together at how utterly full you felt. Double the sinful stretch of just mere moments before. “-you shifted into your ngh- true form!”

Indeed, the notorious king of curses was so hypnotized by your pussy that he hadn’t even realized when he’d slid back into his true form. Beefy biceps flexing as his inhuman hold on your body roughens, twin cocks spearheading into you maddeningly. 

His pheromones are so overpowering right now, the slight tinge of spice and metal makes the omega in you already purr in satisfaction.

“Y-yeah?” He’s gritting out through clenched teeth, and those sharpened canines make you clench. Makes him use every shred of willpower to pretend that he wasn’t as fucking out of control as he was right now. “N-n’ what about it, brat? Don’t hear ya ah- complainin’.”

Yeah, he’s letting his head throw back, totally on purpose, right? 

Twice the stretch had your teeth sinking down into the pillows. Matchingly throbbing girths drawing matching glides down all your sweet spots, you feel him jostle and bump into each of his cocks. Kissing dripping wet kisses to your cervix and your g-spot your cervix and your g-spot- Gurgling out only little pleas-

“Wha’s this-” you’re hearing Sukuna seethe from above you, voice a few octaves higher than usual. One of his towering palms easily wraps around both your wrists. Hoisting you upwards, “-started my rut n’ now you’re not letting me hear it?”

You’re now fully supported in midair by him - his absolute favorite position.

Because of the perfect angle to spy the way your cunt was swallowing every one of his powerfully pressurized thrusts. 

To have his seeping hot cum trickle out of your surely overspilling cunt - down to his achingly tight balls. Where he’d scold you for wasting his precious seed, and then fuck it back into you all over again.

Because with this, Sukuna’s dancing up one hand about halfway up your stomach, pressing down brandingly where he can feel the bulge of his two thick cocks. “Guess tha’s hah- twice the amount m’gonna fill ya up-” Pressing down with all five digits splayed out. Hard. Your body erupts with tremors when his second hand toys deftly with little circles around your puffed-up clit. “-twice my chances of g-gettin’ an heir-” 

You’re bouncing uncontrollably back and forth into Sukuna’s riotous hips, making him gulp at the few strings of wispy white spurting out of his furiously weepy divots. 

Half-deliriously, he wonders whether you’d be able to take two knots.

Shit, his fattening knots leave wet thwacks at your pussy lips, those ringing squelches only growing louder and louder in your ear as soon as his third hand scissors open your messy entrance even further. Vision spinning when your honeyed scent has him shooting blanks already, stickily soaked balls clenching painfully. 

Again. And again and again-

You were putty in his hands, surely at his mercy. “So the o-only question now is–” Or, at least, that’s what Sukuna was making it seem. Grunting, when he knows he’s on the very tipping point of cumming in such thick, voluminous wads already. “-are ya gonna be a good queen n’ gimme all that?”

He was no match for you.

♡ GOJO SATORU - Like an animal

“Sweetheart- oh, sweetheart—” Gojo’s leering after a hefty gulp of saliva, his breathing comes out in pants. Heaves. Fanning your face in an utterly feverish way, “Sweetheart, we’re not making it outta this alive.” 

And this was the fifth time he was echoing this mantra tonight - the fifth time since breaking down your apartment door into the tiniest of splinters. The floor rattling as the strongest strode his way to take you right then and there on your living room table, already in the throes of his rut.

Ready to ruin.

Looking like he was about to kill.

“Toru- Toru someone could walk by-” you’re gasping, barely able to catch your breath with the sheer, staggering amounts of punishing thrust he was planting on your cunt. Shoveling all thickened inches into you with no mercy or regret. “They’re g-gonna see, Toru–”

Not to mention, the sudden crack! of mahogany wood as the cool surface of the table sags down on one side. Already broken. 

And the first thing you’re being given in response is the powerful slap! of his swollen knot against your puffy pussy lips, leaving a stinging kiss that has you keening. 

The second is your back hitting the soft bounce of your plush mattress - all the way in your bedroom. Teleported in nothing but a split-second. 

“S-s’this ah okay, then?” Gojo tongue half-lolls out with his broken moans, and your glassy eyes peer through your lashes at those bolts of purple jujutsu at the very edges of his half-lidded eyes. “Can’t complain now- h-huh- can’t ah– jus’ let me fill ya up now.”

God, he’s fucking himself pathetically stupid on your gummy cunt, every slobbering drag down your velvety walls having his lids drooping closer together, minty scent puffing out mindlessly, words tinging with a primal sort of hoarseness. 

You’re squealing at the wet thwacks! when he’s pounding you into your fresh silken sheets. “Y-you’re so infuriating-”

And just as your mouth opens in a sloppy whine, Gojo’s taking the lewd opportunity to spit a wad of syrupy sweet saliva onto your tongue. Grinning at the breathless way you’re taking it all - on instinct. By nature. 

“And yet your o-omega loves me as ah- much as ever, huh?” he whispers down at your pretty self, words honeyed with the sort of smugness that only Gojo Satoru could have. 

As if to prove his little point, he’s crushing you even harder with his weight. Strong arms jostling your limply falling legs to lock around his neck so easily, and shit- he could feel the way the very end of his fat, rotund head poke into the bullseye of your g-spot. Sensitive slit swiping back and forth on your heavenly cunt-

But it still wasn’t enough.

CRACK!

Just as soon as the creaking protest of the bed rings across your dazed mind, Gojo’s hauling the two of you into a sitting position. Your cunt sat prettily down his long cock, being bounced up and down with the help of his jittery hands clenched roughly around your waist. 

“Wh-what-” you mewl, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. Nails digging red hot marks down the plane of his milky shoulders, “What even b-brought this on–”

“Some fucking curse-” he’s rolling his eyes, with a mindless swat of the slender, rounded tips of his fingers on your clit. Bringing them up, up, up to be popped into his mouth - making him moan. “Heh- can’t help but think about how much sweeter you’d be when I finally breed this pretty cunt.”

And you didn’t realize just how badly Gojo Satoru was ruined because that tiny smack has bands of electricity spiking through your entire body. Arching your spine into a delicious bow that makes his mouth water. 

“Y-your powers-”

“And?”

Electricity sparks at your lips when Gojo’s crashing his own against yours - literally. 

“Please-” he weeps out. And it’s enough to make you sob, your dripping walls being coated in another fresh wave of his precum. “Lemme make a m-momma outta ya- fuck this hngh- cunt till she c-can’t anymore-” His hefty balls shifting underneath your ass with each clench, each twitch. “Wanna ahh- breed you so bad- think I might just die, sweetheart.”

He was losing it. 

He was cumming - and so were you.

Spurting out wave after wave of sweltering hot cum that invades your insides, there’s so much of it. Sloshing around your snug channel sloppily, it’s coating your cervix in a sticky gloss. And you swear you could feel the thick dredges of his seed ooze down your gooey walls. 

Your teeth gnaw at Gojo’s flushed skin on the crook of his neck - and his on yours. Breaking skin, tasting the metallic tinge of red. 

The very taste is enough to have him dumping out another great load of his cum, overstuffing your poor cunt until you could feel yourself swell. It’s enough to drive you mad. 

And enough to have Gojo stuffing his bulging know past your swollen folds with a drawn-out moan of your name. Pretty lower lip quivering, dewy eyes firmly drooping shut as he’s bulling into the feeble ring of muscle. 

Tight. 

“Take it- sweetheart- take it all–” he’s whimpering into your ear, powerful legs jittering upwards to have his cum splurge into every nook and cranny of your cunt. Fingers thrumming jujutsu down your spine, “Sweetheart, sweetheart ah- fuck-” You can only bare your widened eyes at him as he looks over your shoulder, grinning. “The bed’s broken.”

Before you know it, you’re being splayed out on the floor - teleported. 

You’re wincing at the slow, swiveling grind of Gojo’s hips on your own. Too impatient to even let his knot go down before trying to fuck you through your high, teasing out slow pushes and pulls against your cum-coated sweet spots. “Y-you did that on p-purpose, Toru.”

“Y’know what e-else I did on purpose, sweetheart–” his slurring words are accompanied with another smack! to your cunt. And an even filthier press on your stomach to watch his cum dribble out, which Gojo gladly smears along his fingers - pressing into your mouth to let you taste the candied mess. 

“Wh-what?”

Whispering in your ear, “Hah- getting hit by the curse.”

A/N. Of COURSEEE I had to end it off with a guilty pleasure of mine mwahaha

Plagiarism not authorized.

[kurooh]

TOUCH, TOUCH, TOUCH ☆ JUJUTSU KAISEN

⊹₊˚. featuring gojo satoru, geto suguru, ino takuma, fushiguro toji, & kamo choso when their girl finds their weak spot.

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, f! reader, erogenous zones, biting, hair pulling, sensitive men, lots of cumming even though it’s november, overstimulation, oral (f&m rec), kissing, nipple play. | 3k words of sluttery

GOJO SATORU # thighs

“ugh, fuck,” satoru laughs shakily, swallowing down a groan, “really, baby, ‘s like you were made to take my cock.”

“hm, really?” you pull off his cock with a pop, savoring the way his diamond blue eyes squeeze shut, crystalline tears poking at the corners.

satoru’s got his legs spread like a whore, with you between them, nails raking up and down his thighs while you lavish his cock with attention. he’s painfully hard, cock standing up straight and covered in a sheen of your spit.

to think that this all stemmed from a tickle fight, of all things—he’d thrashed around the bed, whining and giggling when you’d gone after his thighs. once you’d finally gotten between them to brush your fingers over the tender skin, his playful giggles had unintentionally shifted into breathy moans which he’d tried to cover up by coughing.

“you should’ve told me these were this sensitive,” you breathe, pinching at his inner thigh. satoru jerks in his seat on the edge of the bed, blushing harder when he looks at the mirror across from the bed.

“riiight. and that would’ve opened the door to me waking up to you chewing on them in the mornings? nuh uh.”

“you’re so annoying, satoru,” you roll your eyes, the happy smile dropping from your lips. for good measure, you grip his cock more loosely, and he silently panics. “maybe you should suck yourself off then.”

“no no no,” satoru backtracks, spreading his thighs and slyly bucking his hips toward you. his cock bobs, fully flushed and desperate to be taken care of properly. “baby, i was joking! let’s rewind to the part where i was saying you were made to take my cock, heh.”

slowly, so as to make it as painful as possible, you take his cock into your mouth inch by inch until you’re swallowing around it. satoru moans loudly, cupping the back of your head to ease the rest of his length down your throat. he was right—he fits inside as easily as two puzzle pieces connect.

his voice shakes and he looks down at you gratefully, thighs tensing as your nails scrape a little harder. “c-can’t believe you’re all mine, baby. goddamn, you’re always so fuckin’ good to me.”

you let out a muffled moan around his thick cock, the vibrations resonating through the entirety of his lower body. spit races down to his balls from the base of his cock, making his skin sticky. this is always his favorite way to cum—somewhere inside you after you’ve made a mess together.

you bob your head on his cock, which only seems to thicken and twitch against your tongue, the first signs of his inescapable high. satoru chews on his lower lip, his breath coming in wheezy puffs while his hips rock into your mouth.

“ngh, t-take it all,” he directs you, his voice strained as the first spurts of cum spill into your throat. “be a good girl f’me and swallow, baby.”

the muscles in his thighs jump beneath your palms as his cock finally finishes emptying all the cum into your mouth—satoru’s breath audibly hitches in his throat as you swallow a few times around him. before his hazy brain can fully register, you’re no longer on his cock, instead kissing up the tender skin of his thighs.

“toru, what do you think’ll happen if i bite you?”

“it’ll hurt,” satoru pouts in reply, the expression on his face only encouraging you to do so. “ow!” he exclaims, but he doesn’t make any move to close his legs or push you away.

“what if i mark up your thighs?”

he quirks a brow, as if to dare you to. “do what you want, babe . . but it’s my turn next.”

GETO SUGURU # scalp

“so weak, baby. is that really the best you can do?” suguru teases, sticking his tongue out at you. “i mean, come on . . there’s no way.”

your fingers twist tightly in his hair and you yank, the dark tresses soft against your skin, smelling of the best shampoo and conditioner. suguru lets out a hiss, savoring the sting of his scalp with a smile that has a pleased smirk playing on his lips.

“how’s that, suguru?”

“if you keep doing that, i might just give you what you want,” he replies breezily, balmy breath fanning over your sticky cunt. “heh, you’re not even pulling hard enough, that’s—”

you interrupt suguru with a vengeful yank of his hair that pulls a groan from the depths of his chest. you raise an eyebrow, looking at him and then between your legs expectantly.

without any more protest, suguru finally presses a kiss to your swollen clit. the little smack of his lips and the preface to what’s coming soon elicits a desperate whine from your bitten lips. “sugu, jus’ spank it, please.”

a hushed chuckle follows the sharp slap to your cunt and your resulting cries of bliss. “someone’s needy today, hm?”

“yeah,” you whimper, nails scratching lightly against his scalp while your fingers tremble in his hair. the bed creaks beneath you as suguru adjusts his position between your legs, tongue lapping up your slick with a primal urgency. his nails dig crescents into your thighs as he spreads you further inch by inch—even with all your squirming, you’re unable to close your thighs.

you’re tugging at his hair insistently, impatiently, and he pins you with an unserious glare. “if you wanna be like that, you can just use my tongue, sweet thing.”

you groan, biting down on your lower lip as suguru slips his tongue inside you. it’s silky soft, hot, and the biggest tease, faintly curling as the tip of it drags against the walls of your cunt. here he is, offering himself up so you can use him; there’s no way you could possibly turn this down.

without any semblance of hesitation, you experimentally jerk your hips forward, and his nose bumps into your clit. he lets out a muffled groan, losing himself in your pussy—your slick covers his skin and makes it shine. it mixes with his spit and drips from his chin, soaking the sheets.

suguru’s scalp stings with overstimulation, shockwaves resonating through his body and shooting straight to his fully hard cock. he can’t help but hump himself against the bed in an attempt to alleviate the wild need for friction.

all too quickly, suguru gets pussydrunk, eyes rolling back while your hips roll forward sloppily. it doesn’t take long for that familiar quake to settle in your thighs, cunt squeezing and fluttering around his tongue.

“s-sugu,” you whine, and he’s sure he’s in heaven, “‘m gonna—gonna cum!”

“lemme taste it, sweetheart,” is the most you can make out from his muffled words. his fingers squeeze your thighs as they twitch beneath his palms, threatening to lock around his head. your orgasm rips through you and your cunt spasms, hips bucking as you ride out the high on his tongue. a broken whine leaves your lips as your thighs overpower his hands and squeeze around him, the soft strands of his hair tickling your skin.

he carefully moves backwards, clicking his tongue and sighing as he scoots off the bed to take off his wet boxers.

“sugu—”

“i don’t want to hear it,” he waves his hand in the air and tosses the boxers into the laundry basket. “it’s your fault anyway, you were the one ripping my hair out.”

“you encouraged me—”

“me? encourage you to pull my hairline back? never, honey.”

INO TAKUMA # neck

“takuma . . i missed you so much,” the words are mumbled against his soft, plush lips. ino smiles against your mouth, a strong arm tugging you into his chest.

he’s got you seated on his lap, for the first time in weeks—he’d been away accompanying nanami on a lengthy mission. the bed softly creaks as he adjusts himself beneath you, inadvertently grinding you down on his hardening cock.

you pull back, face hot with excitement and surprise. “hehe, sorry. was an accident,” ino leans in, pouting at you when you ignore his kiss. instead, bracing yourself with both hands on his shoulders, you start to sloppily bounce up and down in his lap. although there’s no particular rhythm or smoothness behind it, it feels amazing. ino’s face has crumbled into an expression of unadulterated bliss, and he forces his glassy eyes to focus on you rather than let them close.

“ugh, baby,” he whines as your nails dig into the skin of his shoulders, the sting a garbled mix of pain and pleasure. “f-fuck, keep doin’ that.”

without slowing your frantic movements, you toss an arm around him, fingers haphazardly twisting into the feathery hairs at the nape of his neck. you give them a light tug, forcing his head back and eliciting a sudden moan from him.

ino gasps sharply when he feels your nose nudge at his jaw, tipping his head to the side in order to expose the slope of his neck and the tender skin there. although he moved without hesitation, he still wonders what you’re doing. “huh? babe, what’re you—”

“jus’ kissing your neck, takuma,” you coo, inhaling his scent deeply. he smells faintly of his favorite soap (he bought a bar that smells the same as your body wash) and clean laundry. ino seems to tremble beneath your touch, hips jolting upwards as your own begin to slow, your focus on his neck.

truthfully, ino is afraid.

he’s afraid of what he might do or say when you inevitably discover just how sensitive his neck is. and god, the way you’re still moving on his cock has his heart swelling in his chest as he starts to forget about his initial fear. it would be insulting to even consider thinking about anything besides you when you’re on his lap like this and spoiling him with your touch.

“hah—baby,” he adjusts his hands so that they sit tightly on your hips, bouncing you up and down so you won’t get so tired. the drag of your lips against his adam’s apple has him gasping out, eyes rolling back shamelessly. “i-if you’re not careful, i swear you’ll make me cum in my pants.”

this is supposed to be a warning, one that makes you pull off him and shimmy off all the layers of clothes together, but you simply ignore him. he knows you heard what he said, feeling that little smile of yours grow against his skin. ino’s breath hitches in his throat and he loses himself in the almost-euphoria that the friction of his cock against your cunt brings. he’s been starved of you for so long that he’s hyper aware of everything—the stickiness that seeps through your panties and shorts, the scent of your body, and the unstoppable heat that courses through his limbs.

you can feel his cock throbbing against your clit in the moments between each desperate movement, and you only moan into his neck, teeth sinking into the supple skin. your kisses are flirty and teasing, peppered up and down his neck with the occasional nip every now and then.

“a-a little faster, takuma,” you beg, voice tight. “god, you feel so fucking good.” a startled gasp leaves your lips when you feel his fingers slip into your panties, heading towards your clit.

something both hot and cold races down ino’s spine after a few more bites, the double stimulation becoming too much too quickly. the way your slick sticks to his fingers doesn’t help his inescapable high to slow down. fuck, this’ll be messy . .

“b-babe,” he groans into your ear, insides twisting as he slumps against you weakly. “‘m gonna cum, baby—you’re gonna make me..” ino’s voice drifts off into a loud whine as his cock shoots white in his boxers. his face burns and he looks up at you adoringly as you sweep the stray hairs away from his eyes.

“you came, takuma?”

“yeah,” he huffs, the wetness in his underwear making him shift beneath you. a sly smile plays on his lips. “would you . . mind cleaning me up?”

FUSHIGURO TOJI # nipples

toji swears up and down he doesn’t have a single spot on his body that’s hypersensitive, besides his cock. so one night when you’re gesturing for him to lie back, propped up by all the pillows and entirely shirtless, he fixes you with a defiant scowl.

“really? you’re gonna suck my nipples? do i look like a fuckin’ girl to you?”

“toji, it’s not at all like that,” you reply calmly, taking a seat directly on top of his flaccid cock. “jus’ wanna try something, if it’s okay with you.”

“fine, i guess. if this makes you stop whining about sucking my ti—nipples,” he grunts, the corners of his lips curving to the side in annoyance. toji’s thighs are loosely spread, his body entirely relaxed. you give him a chaste kiss with a playful sweep of your tongue against his lower lip before leaning toward his strong chest.

toji’s muscles gleam with the water from his shower, a few droplets racing down the slopes and curves of his pecs. although he’s trying his hardest to act uninterested and offended, a small part of him is strangely curious to see if you’ll prove him wrong. whenever you’re messing around together, you end up playing his body like an instrument—knowing all the places he wants to be touched, how he likes it, and so on.

he covers up the hitch of his breath with a cough into his palm, and your eyes flick up to his.

“what?” he asks accusingly. “fuckin’ throat’s dry.”

“nothing, toj,” you reply, eyes twinkling in a way that has his heart kicking against his ribcage. he expects you to say more, but you don’t.

his body’s cooled substantially since the shower, and the second your lips wrap around his nipple, hot tongue flicking over the hardened bud, toji’s letting out a choked groan. the dichotomy between the temperatures is the first thing that gets him going, but then the way you start to suck—you’re about to seriously humble him.

you look up at him, asking a silent question.

“‘s not bad,” toji huffs dismissively, “just not enough stimulation.”

you nod, fingers finding his other nipple and pinching it lightly. his leg twitches and his abs clench, but he plays it off with a small shrug. you know that toji has always been too prideful, writing things off without giving them a chance. heat sparks through his body, settling in his cock, and you feel him growing rock hard beneath you.

instead of saying something cocky to piss him off, you only let out a small giggle, teeth catching on his nipple. toji hisses, unconsciously cupping the back of your head to push you into his chest.

“doll, no need to be so gentle,” he drawls, gasping sharply when you bite down. it hurts a little, but toji’s something of a masochist—he spurs you on with a weak groan. pleased with your handiwork, you switch nipples, fingers growing sticky with your spit as you spread it around his pectoral.

pressed up against your cunt, his cock throbs, desperate for attention. just as you’re thinking about touching him to alleviate the pressure, toji beats you to it, large hand pushing you to sit on his abs. he grips his cock firmly and his body shudders, jade eyes squeezing shut as he sets up a lazy pace.

“h-holy fuck,” he bites out, head tipping back onto all the pillows as puffs of breath leave his flushed lips. “‘s good, just keep doin’ that . . yeah, right there, doll.”

KAMO CHOSO # ears

“baby, i—oh, fuck,” choso swallows, fingers lightly ghosting along the slope of your bouncing ass. “i can’t hold it anymore, ‘specially not with you riding me like this.”

“i know, i know,” you huff out, voice trembling. your chest presses against his and it’s a clamor of teeth and impatience as your lips meet, tongues pushing against one another. choso has always fought off his orgasm in favor of your own, too focused on you before himself. today, it’s no different, but this time you’re drawing it out to see just how long he can last.

his eyes are closed as he loses himself in the kiss, too focused to notice you pulling away; his lips drag against your cheek when you tuck your face into his neck. confused, he asks breathily, “h-huh? is everything okay?”

“of course, cho,” you say sweetly, pressing kisses against the flushed shell of his ear. almost immediately, choso tenses beneath you, arms wrapping around your midsection tightly. he gasps when you take it a step further, nipping at his earlobe in a way that’s not so gentle.

“what’re you doing? i wanted you to cum first—then i could too.”

“‘s okay, i want you to be selfish this time,” you giggle, “cum for me, ‘kay? can you do that, cho?”

“of course i can,” choso mumbles, “jus’ look at the way you’re fucking me . . hah, ‘m gonna cum.”

he leans into you, letting you tongue and bite at his ears. choso’s on the precipice of euphoria, walking the edge and ready to fall, but you keep teasing his ears in a way that drags it out of him. he cums deep, his cock spilling against your cervix and inspiring your own high. choso’s shuddering beneath you, teeth clicking together from the overwhelming strength of it all. he whispers a few incoherent things, fingers splaying over your back as you cum around him with a loud whine.

choso’s holding you closely, pressing a few kisses to your shoulder and hissing as your riding finally comes to a stop. you can feel the heat of his cum inside you, slipping because of gravity, pouring out of you and pooling at his base.

“pull my hair next time,” he says softly, sounding embarrassed. “and i want you to bite a bit harder.”

“‘m not trying to give you an ear piercing,” you laugh, kissing over the flushed skin your teeth sunk into. “but next time can be right now, if you want it, cho.”

your hips lift upwards, and he stifles a groan, watching his cum drip from your sloppy cunt. “yeah,” he bites his lip, looking at you with rosy cheeks, “i need a minute, so before we go again . . wanna taste her, if that’s alright?”

[abbotjack]

(18+ only) nsfw alphabet– michael robinavitch .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪₊ ⊹˚

pairing : michael "robby" robinavitch x afab!reader

18+ MDNI—warning : explicit sexual content, use of cunt, rough sex, praise kink, post-sex intimacy, body worship, possessive language. this is just pure filth start to finish like oh my god...

a/n : no plot, just robby being hot, obsessed, and way too good at ruining your cunt. you're welcome. roughly 4,000 words... needless to say I was very passionate about this one as well. I also did one for dr. abbot!. anyways, happy pitt thursday & ty for 100 followers !

♡ A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He treats aftercare like it’s an extension of the act itself—just as intimate, just as necessary. He pulls you against his chest immediately after, and murmurs, “You alright?” His voice is low and hoarse, lips ghosting your temple. He doesn’t rush. You’ll feel his fingers smoothing across your skin, touching every place he left red or trembling.

He wipes you down gently with a warm cloth—he never makes you do it yourself—and then pulls the blanket up over both of you. There’s a certain reverence in the way he laces your fingers together afterward. He might not always say the words, but it’s there: You’re mine. I’ve got you.

♡ B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite on himself : His hands because they get to touch you. He’s obsessed with how much he can make you feel with just his fingertips. “Tell me where you want me,” he’ll whisper against your throat while teasing a finger down your thigh.

On you : Your mouth. Not just for what it does, but how it moves. The curve when you smile, the little intake of breath when you’re trying not to moan, the way it parts when he slides a finger into you and whispers something filthy against your ear.

He’s obsessed with the way you whimper against his kiss. Sometimes he’ll press his thumb into your bottom lip and say, “Let me see how much you want it.” And then watch—ruthlessly—as you fall apart

♡ C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Robby finishes deep, every time. It’s instinctive. You clenching around him when he starts to lose control? That’s what does it. He’ll bury his face in your shoulder with a groan that sounds almost pained, holding you in place while he spills inside you. And afterward? He stays inside just a little too long. “Just… let me have this for a second.”

He loves watching it drip out of you after. Fingers gentle but greedy as he brushes it back in, eyes dark with a possessiveness he never voices out loud.

♡ D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He has a thing for catching you in the middle of it.

Not touching yourself for him—not some showy, performed thing. No. He wants to catch you when you think he’s not there. When it’s real. Quiet. Desperate. Private.

That’s his secret.

He’s walked in on you once—half-asleep, legs spread, hand between your thighs, whispering his name under your breath without even realizing it. You didn’t notice him right away.

But he noticed everything.

The way your hips stuttered. The little gasp you made when your fingers brushed just right. The slick sound of you trying to get yourself off like it wasn’t already too much. The blush that crept up your chest when you finally looked over and saw him standing there, hard in his jeans, eyes dark, watching.

He hasn’t stopped thinking about it since.

And sometimes—he doesn’t mean to—but he lingers outside the bedroom door when you don’t know he’s home. Just listening. Breathing slow. Letting his cock throb in his hand while you whimper his name with your fingers buried inside you.

He won’t ask you to stop. He won’t interrupt.

♡ E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Robby is the guy who doesn’t look like a heartbreaker, but you find out after that he could be. He’s had lovers—but he doesn’t throw it around casually. When he touches you, it’s obvious : he knows what he’s doing. His rhythm, his pressure, the way he reads your breath and adjusts in real time. Precision with heat.

And when you moan his name? His lips part, slow, like he’s drinking you in. “That’s it. Just like that. Good girl. Let me hear you.”

♡ F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

In the privacy of the bedroom, Robby's preferred position is classic missionary. He loves to have you lying beneath him, legs wrapped around his waist, allowing for deep penetration and full-body contact. This position enables him to maintain eye contact, reading every nuance of your expressions, and to kiss you deeply, muffling shared moans.

What elevates this position for him is the intimacy it fosters. He can feel your heartbeat against his chest, synchronize his breathing with yours, and whisper sweet or filthy nothings directly into your ear. The ability to have his hands free to explore your body, caress your sides, or intertwine fingers adds layers to the connection. It's not just about the physical pleasure but the profound emotional bond it reinforces each time.

♡ G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not really goofy—more warm. He’s serious when it counts, but he has this soft, crooked smirk when you laugh mid-kiss. He’ll say something under his breath like “You’re trouble, you know that?” while flipping you over. The humor is subtle—intimate. Like you’re in on something private.

♡ H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s got a full bush, thick and dark, not out of neglect but because he doesn’t see the point in shaving something that feels natural. The hair down there is soft but dense, and when he’s hard? It frames his cock like it’s meant to be worshipped.

There’s a trail leading up from his pelvis—dark and straight. It’s the kind of thing you see once and can’t stop staring at, especially when his shirt rides up after a long shift and your eyes catch that line of hair leading down. He notices when you look. He always notices.

And let’s not skip the beard.

He loves burying his mouth between your thighs like it’s the only place he wants to be. His tongue is slow, deep, deliberate. His stubble drags across every tender inch, rough enough to leave you raw, just the way he knows you like it.

He shaved once.

He came out of the bathroom with a towel slung low, jaw bare, clean, pink in places where the razor caught. He looked at you—wet hair, smug expression, a glint in his eye like he thought he’d done something special.

Your eyes dragged over his face, down to the curve of his throat. Blank. Quiet. Then :

“You shaved.”

He nodded, a little too proud. “Figured I’d try something different.”

You didn’t answer. Just got under the covers, and faced the wall.

You didn’t fuck him for a week.

You still let him pull you close. Still let him kiss your neck. But your cunt stayed untouched, aching and slick in silence, because you chose to starve him with it. To remind him that this—you—has rules.

You waited until the stubble came back.

That night, you let him between your legs.

You didn’t speak. Just pulled him down and pressed your cunt to his mouth like something owed. He took it like an apology.

Now, he doesn’t forget. When he fucks you with his mouth, he does it slow. Thorough. Until you shake. Until you cry out. Until it’s more than just pleasure—it’s possession. His jaw works like he’s starving. Like he remembers every second of those nights you wouldn't let him have it.

When he pulls back—chin wet, lips parted—his breath ghosts over your skin. You’re flushed and trembling, still pulsing from the friction.

He looks up, voice wrecked, reverent.

“I won’t make that mistake again.”

You exhale, heavy, jaw slack.

“You won’t.”

♡ I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

When he’s in your bed, it’s not about sex—it’s about claiming space in your life. Every touch is intentional. Every glance lingers a second too long. Every thrust carries the weight of everything he doesn’t say out loud.

He gives his full attention, eyes locked on yours while his hands hold you still, and his voice drops in your ear :

“I want you to feel me tomorrow. I want you to remember this.”

And afterward? When your legs are still shaking and your mind’s gone foggy? He pulls you into his chest because you’re his. It's the kind of closeness that tells you—no one else gets this version of him.

♡ J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Robby jerks off only when it’s necessary—when he’s so hard it aches, or when he’s had a day that pressed every damn button and he needs you to take the edge off… but you’re not there.

He always does it the same way : Back against the headboard, hand braced on his thigh, one slow stroke at a time while his eyes are shut and you’re the only thing in his head. Sometimes it’s your voice. Sometimes it’s the way your body looked the last time you collapsed under him.

He finishes hard, jaw clenched, chest rising. And every time? He mutters your name under his breath, like a confession he’s still trying to outrun.

♡ K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He doesn’t just want to fuck you—he wants to manage you. Override your thoughts. Rewire what you associate with pleasure until the only thing you crave is his voice, his rules, his cock.

And he does it slow. He makes you ask. Not because he’s into power trips—but because he wants to hear you break.

“You want something, you say it. Use your words.”

“That tone won’t get you what you need, sweetheart.”

And when you finally say it—broken, desperate, voice shaking—he rewards you by giving all of himself, rough hands, heavy weight, deliberate thrusts that make you sob.

He’s into positional control—knees spread wide, hands behind your back, chin tilted up with one thick hand under your jaw. Not to scare you. To focus you.

You don’t look away. You don’t squirm.

You listen. You obey.

And when you don’t? He’ll stop mid-thrust, press his body flush to yours, and growl :

“Try that again. See what it gets you.”

When he puts you where he wants you and says, “Stay still while I fuck you,” —you do. Every time.

That’s the kink : You, undone. And him, fully in control of everything.

♡ L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s a bed man, 100%. Not because he’s boring—because he wants time, room, and access. Sheets pushed down. One knee between your thighs. He wants to make a mess.

But he does have a soft spot for the couch especially after a long day, when you curl into his side while watching something on TV, kiss his neck, and he doesn’t even bother pulling your pants all the way off before tugging you into his lap and sliding in from underneath.

♡ M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

What gets Robby going?

You. Wanting him.

It’s the way you shift closer when you speak—like your body can’t help but chase him. The brush of your leg against his under the table, slow and unthinking, but your breath always catches after. The way your eyes dilate when he says your name low.

It’s instinct. Want in its rawest form. Not loud. Not deliberate. Just something in you pulling toward something in him.

And he notices.

Feels it in the silence. In the way your thighs tense when he stands too close. In the heat radiating off you when you pretend you’re not thinking about his hands on your skin. But you are. And he knows it.

And when you do ask?

That’s what does it.

Just a soft little please—barely above a whisper. His cock’s already hard in his pants, jaw tight, breath low and steady, because if he moves too fast, he’ll lose it.

And if you’re already wet when he checks?

He groans—low, rough, wrecked.

“Yeah. That’s all I fuckin’ need.”

Because that’s what gets him. Not performance. Not noise. Just need. Honest, helpless, soaked-through need.

The kind that has your cunt dripping just from the thought of him.

That kind of power? That kind of want?

He’ll fuck you senseless for it. Every time.

♡ N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He won’t turn sex into something cold and punishing.

You can tease him. Push him. You can mouth off just to see how long it takes for him to press you into the mattress and make you sorry you started it. He likes that. He likes the challenge.

But he doesn’t want cruelty. Not from you, not toward you.

The first time it comes up, it’s not even in bed.

You say it offhandedly—half a joke, half testing the waters. Something you read in a post, or a thread, or some comment section that said men like him—older, quiet, in control—like it mean. That they get off on making you cry. That pain is the point. That it’s not real unless it hurts.

And his reaction is immediate. Not angry—just quiet. Controlled. Serious in that way he gets when he needs you to listen.

He touches your chin, gently, turns your face toward him. Thumb brushing your cheek. His eyes on yours.

“No, honey. We don’t do that here.”

His voice is low, even.

“You want to be taken apart? Fine. You want to be mine? Good. But not like that.”

Then he pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes.

He doesn’t care what you’ve read or what men like him are supposed to want—he’s not here to watch you cry just to feel powerful, not interested in pain that leaves you numb or pushing past what you can take just because you think that’s what gets him off.

He wants you honest, wanting, undone by pleasure. He’ll ruin you. Wreck you. Push you to the edge of something so intense it leaves you shaking.

But pain for pain’s sake? Anything that feels hollow, detached, or cruel?

That’s where he stops.

♡ O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Giving?

Devotional. He doesn’t rush. He doesn’t tease. He feasts. Like your thighs are the only place he wants to die.

One arm looped under your leg, the other gripping your hip. He’ll drag his tongue in deep, slow strokes until you’re begging. Not because he wants praise—because he wants you undone. Wants your thighs trembling, your voice high and ruined, your fingers scrabbling through his hair with desperate little gasps.

Receiving?

He loves it—but more because he likes watching you want it. The heat in your eyes, the way you look up while you suck him slow, spit slicking your lips. If you grip his thighs and choke a little, he’ll groan and push your hair back :

“Easy, sweetheart… take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

♡ P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Controlled.

Not fast, not rough—measured. Like every thrust is calculated to make you feel exactly what he wants you to.

He’ll keep it slow until you’re practically begging, then snap his hips once—just once—and smirk when you whimper.

“That’s what you needed, huh?”

He’ll go harder when you ask. But his rhythm never loses that precision.

♡ Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Robby doesn’t like quickies. Not really.

He wants time—wants to press his mouth to every inch of your skin, listen to the way your breath shifts, draw your orgasm out like he’s conducting it. Quickies cut corners, and Robby? Doesn’t like cutting corners.

But you? You’re standing just a little too close during a quiet stretch in the ER—eyes wide, cheeks flushed, voice barely above a whisper: “Please. I need you. Right now.”

And when you reach for his hand, tug him gently by the wrist toward the back hallway— He knows where you’re going. And he doesn’t stop you.

You slip into the empty on-call room. He’s two steps behind you, shutting the door with a quiet click and turning the lock.

His voice is low, sharp, already strained:

“You really want this here?”

You nod, out of breath.

“Please, Robby… I need it. I don’t care if it’s quick. I just—fuck—I need you inside me.”

That’s all it takes.

He’s on you in a second—one hand at your throat, the other already pushing you back against the wall. His mouth crashes into yours—filthy, impatient—and he grabs your scrub pants, yanking them down just enough to expose your thighs.

Your underwear stays on.

He hooks a finger under the elastic, pulls it to the side, and groans when he sees you—slick, swollen, already soaked for him.

“You came in here like this?” His voice is gravel now. “Fucking desperate for it?”

You nod again. Barely.

“Robby—please. I need you—need to feel you—”

He growls low in his throat and presses two fingers into you hard and fast, feeling you stretch around him, already pulsing.

“God, you’re fucking dripping.”

He pulls his cock out fast—thick, flushed, angry—and lines himself up without another word. Then, still holding your underwear to the side, he drives into you in one brutal thrust.

You gasp—loud—and his hand’s at your mouth now, pinning you to the wall with his weight.

“Shhh. Be quiet for me. You wanted this so bad, now take it.”

The rhythm is relentless. Fast. Deep. Ruined in five minutes flat. Your hands scramble at his back. Your forehead presses to his collarbone. You’re so full, so fucked, all you can do is sob into his palm as your orgasm crashes over you way too soon.

He fucks you through it. Doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even slow down. Just grits out,

“That’s it. Just like that. Come around me. God, you feel fucking perfect—”

When he spills inside you, it’s with a broken moan into your shoulder, hips jerking, fingers gripping your waist like he’s trying to hold himself together.

After? He pulls out slow. Gently tucks himself away. Adjusts your underwear back into place and helps you with your pants. Then brushes his thumb along your lower lip where you bit down too hard.

“Next time? You wait until we’re off shift. So I can do that right.”

But you know—The next time you beg?

He’s going to cave again.

He doesn’t like quickies. But for you? He’ll fuck you like it’s the last five minutes of his life.

♡ R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Robby’s not reckless. But behind closed doors? He’ll try anything once—as long as it comes with trust.

You want to be tied up? He’ll get a rope. You want to try temperature play? He’s already warming the oil. But he needs to know you’re there with him, not playing a part.

♡ S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Two to three rounds, easily—if not more, depending on the day.

And in between rounds? He doesn’t check out. He kisses you. Runs his fingers through your hair. Stays in it.

You won’t even realize he’s hard again until he’s flipping you over, saying, “We're not done yet.”

♡ T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Selective. But curious. He keeps a viberator in the nightstand drawer—not for you to use alone, but for him to hold against you while he’s buried inside you.

“Let go. Come on. Let me feel it.”

He’s also into remote-control toys. The idea of having you wear one while you sit across the table at dinner? Knowing he could ruin you the second you tease him?

Yeah. He’s thought about it. A lot.

♡ U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He lives to tease. Not cruelly—strategically. He’ll keep you on the edge for hours. Pull away right before you come. Make you ride him slow until your voice breaks.

And the whole time? He’ll say shit like:

“You want to come? Say it. Say it like you mean it.”

And when you finally do? He’ll give it to you. Hard. Without hesitation. But only once he’s dragged every drop of want out of you first.

♡ V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Grunts. Groans. Low curses whispered into your neck. The sound he makes when he comes is rough.

And when you ride him, slow and deep? He’ll let out this low, desperate moan into your chest that sounds like he’s trying to hold himself back and failing.

That sound? It’s all because of you.

♡ W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He kept the first pair of underwear you left at his place. Not to be creepy. Not to sniff or jerk off to. Just… because.

They’re in the back of his drawer, folded neatly like he might give them back, but he won’t. It’s a memento. A reminder of the first night you stayed. The first night you were his.

♡ X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Thick. Heavy. Veined. He’s not porn-star long, but he doesn’t need to be—the girth alone is enough to make you gasp every time.

You feel him with your whole body. Even when he’s just rubbing the tip through your slick folds, your hips buck involuntarily, desperate for him to fill you. Stretch you. Keep you full until your thighs shake.

And he knows it. Smirks when he catches the way you hesitate right before he pushes in.

“Too much?” he’ll murmur, nudging at your entrance with slow, deliberate pressure.

“You can take it. You always do.”

He presses all the way in, holds there while your body adjusts. He doesn’t fuck like he’s showing off. He fucks like he’s memorizing you with it. Like he’s been thinking about it all day.

And when he pulls out, slow and slick and aching, you’re already sore. Already wanting it again.

♡ Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Robby can hold off for days. Weeks, even. But when he finally has you?

He’s starving.

He doesn’t just want your body. He wants you wrecked. Tearing up. Shaking. Pressing your mouth to his neck so no one hears how hard you come for him.

He wants you craving him just as badly. Not for show. Not for ego. Because that’s the part he hides from everyone else—how badly he needs you when he doesn’t have you.

And when he’s buried in you, deep and slow, holding your wrists down above your head, mouth at your throat, voice shaking from restraint?

That’s when you hear it : “I’ve needed this. You have no idea how fucking much.”

♡ Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

You fall asleep on your side, facing him. One arm draped over his chest, leg tangled between his, skin still hot from where your bodies were pressed tight.

You’re bare.

Still flushed.

Still soft all over, your thighs sticky, your cunt sore and slick from how deep he took you.

And Robby’s still wide awake. Lying flat on his back, one hand resting on the dip of your waist—but his eyes?

They’re on you.

He watches the way your breath slows, the way your mouth parts slightly, the way your fingers twitch against his ribs while you sleep. You’re loose now. Limp and warm and completely undone—and he still feels you, everywhere.

Your stomach rises and falls against him in slow, perfect rhythm. There’s a faint line on your hip—stretch mark, scar, something you used to try and hide.

He sees it.

He loves it.

He traces it lightly with his thumb, barely a touch.

He wants to move.

Wants to roll you onto your back, lick into your cunt until you're whimpering again, make you take him slow all over.

Wants to feel you twitch when he whispers things he never says out loud—like how badly he wants to keep you like this forever he literally has a ring hidden in his nightstand but that’s besides the point.

But he doesn’t. You’re asleep. Spent. Trusting him with your whole body.

So he shifts in a little closer. Presses a kiss to your shoulder. Lets his palm settle over your hip, wide and warm and claiming. Because for now, that’s enough.

Eventually, his eyes will close.

But not yet.

Not when you’re still glowing from what he did to you.

[carnalcrows]

The one with the Scandal

pariring: rockstar! male OC x male reader [profile]

summary: You’re not dating him. You don’t even like him like that. He’s younger. He’s your job. He’s also apparently into fixing your collar, looking at you like you’re his, and letting the entire fanbase run with it. You’re just trying to not get fired. He’s making it really hard.

content warnings: 18+, idol/manager dynamic, bottom male reader, Jiho is younger but he is in control, reader is spiraling professionally but holding it together (barely), scandal via leaked video, yandere tendencies if you squint, oral (reader receiving), Jiho calls the reader Hyung, someone is watching. also: subtle HR violations and bad decisions made in very quiet hallways.

word count: 3.1k

White Eclipse’s manager's job description didn’t include “babysit rockstars,” but here you were at 6:47 a.m., standing outside the dorm in socks, trying to get a key card to work while someone inside was blasting what could only be described as sad trap piano.

You didn’t bother knocking. They never heard it anyway.

The door opened a beat later—Jiho, hoodie half-on, eyes still sleepy, holding a toothbrush like it was a weapon.

“Oh,” he said, voice rough. “Thought you were food.”

You blinked. “It’s me.”

He nodded. “Right.”

Then he just… stepped aside to let you in.

No apology. No explanation.

You used to be surprised by things like that. Not anymore. It’d been seven months since you took over as White Eclipse’s full-time manager. Seven months of group chats at 2 a.m., misplaced earrings, broken in-rooms, passive-aggressive silence in makeup chairs. You were barely keeping the group running. You didn’t have energy left for things like normal boundaries.

Jiho wandered back down the hall. You followed, because your job required it. Not to hover, just to check the morning schedule—radio taping, press call, one-on-one interview for Juhwan. Makeup in twenty.

“You slept?” you asked, mostly to check.

Jiho shrugged. “Eventually.”

“Eat something before we go.”

He didn’t answer, which usually meant no.

You sighed, already noting it down in the log.

⋆｡°✩  

The van ride was quiet, except for Doyun humming aggressively off-key to a song no one else liked. You were seated up front, checking your tablet, trying to remember if anyone had confirmed Jiho’s brand outfit for the shoot. You didn’t hear him move until he leaned forward between the seats.

“Hyung,” he said. His breath ghosted the side of your neck, too close.

You didn’t flinch, but your fingers stilled.

“Yes?”

“You left your charger last time.”

He held it out—your USB-C cable, neatly wrapped.

You blinked. “You… kept it?”

He gave a half-shrug. “Figured you’d come back for it eventually.”

Then sat back like nothing happened.

You turned toward the window. The city rolled by in silence. You didn’t say thank you.

You weren’t sure you wanted to know what else he was keeping track of.

⋆｡°✩  

The radio taping was delayed by forty minutes. Not that anyone told you until you were already standing in the green room, watching the stylist re-iron Taeyang’s shirt while Juhwan paced like he was on trial.

You were half-listening to a PD explain the new segment structure when Jiho appeared beside you again—like he always did, like gravity.

He didn’t say anything. Just handed you a bottle of water.

You took it automatically.

A few seconds passed before you glanced over.

“…This isn’t mine,” you said.

“It’s cold,” he replied. “You like it that way.”

You blinked, unsure how to respond to that.

He didn’t stick around for a reaction—just walked back to the couch and sat, legs crossed, earbuds in, expression unreadable as ever. Like it was nothing. Like he hadn’t just said something small and specific enough to stick in your brain like a splinter.

You told yourself it was normal. He probably remembered from a post-schedule snack run. He was observant. That was all.

It didn’t mean anything.

But when the boys were being ushered into the booth, he lingered again.

Waited until the others were out of earshot.

Then said, “You looked tired yesterday.”

Your hand paused on the equipment list.

“…That’s not part of your job description.”

Jiho gave a half-smile. Small. Secret.

“Neither’s remembering your charger.”

You didn’t smile back.

You wanted to.

You didn’t.

⋆｡°✩  

That night, you stayed at the company building longer than you meant to. Not unusual—schedules had to be reshuffled, the stylists were panicking about a delivery delay, and someone had somehow misplaced two of Doyun’s in-ear backups despite the fact that you’d personally labelled them in obnoxiously bold font last week.

By the time you packed your bag, the halls were half-dark and the lights in the vocal practice room were still on.

You almost didn’t look.

You almost walked straight past.

But you didn’t.

Jiho was there. Again.

Seated on the floor, guitar in his lap, hoodie sleeves pushed up. His face was lit only by the screen of his phone, and he looked so relaxed—so out of uniform—that it threw you off for a second.

He didn’t see you right away. But the second you stepped into the room; his fingers stilled on the frets.

He looked up. And didn’t look away.

“…You live here now?” you asked dryly, trying not to let your voice give anything away.

“Only if you do,” he said, which wasn’t funny, but it made your mouth twitch anyway.

You sat on the bench near the wall, just to rest for a minute. Just to breathe.

Jiho shifted slightly, setting his guitar down.

“They let you have solo schedules today?” he asked.

You shook your head. “Temporary probation.”

He hummed. “For what?”

You gave him a look. “You really want me to spell it out?”

“I want to know what they think happened.”

His tone wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t particularly curious, either. Just steady. Like he was testing something.

You didn’t answer.

He stood slowly and crossed the room, not close, not quite, but just enough that the air changed.

“I know what I felt Hyung,” he said.

Your jaw tightened. “You can’t say stuff like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m your manager.”

He smiled, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Not lately.”

That sat in the space between you, heavy and uncomfortable and true.

You stood up, suddenly. Bag over your shoulder. Shoes already pointed toward the door.

Jiho didn’t stop you. Didn’t move. Just said, quiet and sure,

“Then what are you still doing here?”

⋆｡°✩  

You’re already at the studio before the sun finishes rising, two iced Americanos in hand, and neither of them are for you.

The schedule’s stacked—two back-to-back interviews, followed by a commercial shoot, and then a fitting for a brand collab you only got confirmation for at midnight. You don’t even realise you’ve been typing out emails with your neck tilted and your jaw clenched until someone passes behind you and mutters, “Hyung, you’re gonna shatter your teeth.”

It’s Doyun.

You don’t respond. Just hand him one of the coffees and tell him to finish it before makeup.

Jiho’s the last one out of the van when you arrive at the venue. Hoodie up, expression blank, one earbud in. He doesn’t speak until the others have wandered off in different directions. You’re halfway to the front doors, double-checking a logistics note, when he suddenly says behind you, “You forgot your charger... again.”

You stop walking.

“I didn’t.”

He holds it up anyway. Neatly wrapped. Slightly warm, like he kept it in his pocket.

“Don’t leave your stuff around if you don’t want me touching it,” he adds.

It’s not flirtatious. Not playful.

Just a little… too direct.

You take it from him without meeting his eyes.

By the time the day wraps, you’ve been on your feet for nearly eleven hours, you’re starving, and you’ve answered the same three questions from the same sponsor rep three separate times.

You’re in the back hallway finishing a call when the door beside you creaks open.

Jiho again.

Of course.

He doesn’t say anything. Just leans against the wall next to you, close enough that your shoulders almost touch.

“Is there a reason you’ve been following me around like a ghost today?” you ask, keeping your voice flat.

“Maybe.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re not subtle.”

“I’m not trying to be.”

There’s a beat of silence between you.

“You know they’re already watching,” you say quietly. “Even if nothing happens.”

He shrugs. “Then let them.”

You stare straight ahead. If you look at him now, you might say something you can’t take back.

He leaves without another word.

⋆｡°✩  

It starts the next morning, before you’re even fully awake.

Your phone lights up with a buzz sharp enough to break through sleep, and the notification preview makes your blood run cold.

You don’t open it at first.

You already know what it is.

You sit up in bed, screen half-lit, and there it is:

A video.

Low-res, muted, zoomed in from somewhere behind the practice room window.

You, standing in front of Jiho.

Him, fixing your collar like he’s done it a hundred times before.

You, frozen.

Him, looking at you like no one else exists.

WHO is that? he looks like STAFF??? That’s the manager hyung. I’ve seen him in airport vids. They’re so domestic, what the hell 😭😭 The way he looks at him, oh my god, he’s SO GONE idc if it’s fake, this is the best ship in K-pop rn

It’s only ten seconds.

But that’s all it takes.

You can’t breathe.

The DMs are already coming in. Three calls from PR. One from someone in legal. Your group chat with the other managers is blowing up, and your name is already trending.

You close the app.

Open your notes app.

Start typing an apology that no one’s asked for yet.

Jiho.

Then you stop.

Because your phone buzzes again.

A single text.

[ come up to the roof.]

You stare at it.

Ignore it.

Then, against your better judgment, you go.

⋆｡°✩  

The rooftop is quieter than you remember.

It’s probably not even technically accessible—some intern left the door propped open during a late-night smoke break once, and now everyone pretends it’s still locked. You used to come up here alone. That was before. Before the video. Before the call from PR. Before your name started appearing in the trending bar.

Now Jiho’s already here, hoodie sleeves bunched up to his elbows, fingers curled around a can of grape soda that’s starting to sweat through the aluminium. He looks like he hasn’t moved in an hour. Like this isn’t the first time he’s sat here, waiting for you.

You shut the door behind you.

He doesn’t turn to look at you immediately. Just nods toward the railing beside him.

You don’t sit.

“You saw it?” you ask.

He hums in response. You’re not sure if that’s a yes or a who hasn’t?

“You’re not panicking.”

He finally turns. There’s no smile. No bite. Just his usual unreadable calm.

“Should I be?”

You almost laugh, sharp and humourless. “This isn’t a joke.”

“I know.”

He tosses the soda can into the nearby bin without looking. Deadcentrer.

You cross your arms. “They’re going to kill this. Quietly. I’m already off the schedule for next week.”

“I noticed.”

You expect a flicker of regret. Frustration. Some trace of guilt.

You get none.

Instead, Jiho steps closer—not aggressive, just deliberate. There’s no camera up here. No PR team. No lighting cues or stylists, or handlers. Just him. Just you.

“They think we’re together,” he says, voice low.

You don’t answer.

“Maybe we should be.”

You look away. “Don’t do this.”

“Do what, Hyung?”

“Say things you can’t take back.”

He’s close enough now that you can feel the warmth from his body—his chest rising slowly, steadily. He doesn’t try to touch you. That would be too easy. Too obvious. Instead, he just stands there like gravity, like inevitability.

“I’ve been waiting for something to break,” he says, quieter now. “I just didn’t think it’d be a ten-second clip.”

You inhale through your nose. Try to stay steady.

“I’m older than you,” you say.

“So?”

“I’m your manager.”

He leans in—not touching, not yet.

“Not today.”

The silence between you hangs, taut and electric.

Then you walk away.

You don’t run.

But you don’t look back.

⋆｡°✩  

You don’t answer his messages after that.

Not because you don’t want to. You just don’t trust yourself to say something that won’t get screenshotted and sent to HR. You spend the rest of the day buried in logistics—flipping through updated schedules, emailing photographers, pretending your phone isn’t buzzing every hour with a new article, a new fan edit, a new speculative thread. You don’t see Jiho for the rest of the day, and you let yourself believe maybe that rooftop conversation didn’t mean anything.

Then he shows up at your apartment.

It’s late—past midnight. You’re wearing an old shirt and mismatched socks, half-asleep, when the intercom buzzes. You think it’s a food delivery at first. You didn’t order anything. But when you answer, all you hear is—

“Hyung— It’s me.”

You don’t open the door right away. You hesitate. Long enough to consider what this will mean if you do.

But when you finally unlock it, he’s standing there. Hoodie off. Cap gone. Just Jiho—his real face, glasses slightly fogged from the night air. He looks calm. Like he’s been here before.

You don’t ask him why he came. You don’t need to.

He steps inside like he’s done it before, like this is normal— hoodie slung over one shoulder, hair pushed back messily from his face. He looks like he belongs here, even though you’ve never invited him in, not really. You tell yourself you’re only letting this happen because you’re exhausted. Because there’s no one else around. Because you’ve already been dragged into the narrative, so what’s one more mistake?

But you know better.

You always have.

You lock the door behind him and turn to find him watching you like he’s memorising something.

“You always leave it open when you’re nervous,” he says.

You blink. “What?”

“The collar. You don’t button the top one. You fidget with it when you’re trying not to look at me.”

You don’t say anything. There’s nothing to say.

Jiho walks past you—through the short hallway, into the living room, casual like he’s heading for the kitchen. He doesn’t. He stops at the edge of the couch and looks back.

“You gonna keep pretending?”

You cross your arms defensively. “Pretending what?”

“That you don’t want me to stay.”

That lands harder than you expect. Not because he’s wrong. But because you’ve been trying so hard to keep that exact thing from showing on your face for weeks.

And maybe you haven’t been as successful as you thought.

When you don’t answer, he turns fully. Walks up to you slowly, deliberately, until the heat from his body reaches your chest and you have nowhere else to go.

He touches the collar of your shirt. Just the fabric. No skin. Yet.

“You should stop wearing this,” he murmurs.

“Why?”

“Because I want to take it off.”

Your breath catches. He hears it. You know he does.

Then, carefully, he undoes the top button. Then the next. You don’t stop him.

“You’re shaking,” he says softly.

You didn’t even realize.

“I—Jiho, this is—”

“Too late.”

He steps forward. Presses his mouth to yours—once, slow and sure. He doesn’t rush it. Doesn’t push. But there’s heat behind it. Control. Like he’s waited long enough, and he’s not going to let you talk your way out of it now.

You kiss him back.

⋆｡°✩  

He leads you to the bedroom without speaking, only touching you where he needs to—your wrist, your hip, the small of your back. You sit on the edge of the bed, and he kneels without hesitation, hands sliding up your thighs, eyes locked on yours.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he tells you. “But you don’t get to lie to me either.”

You nod.

That’s all he needs.

Jiho peels your pants down with practised fingers, pushing them past your hips, then your briefs. You’re already half-hard, pulse thudding like your body’s already a step ahead of your thoughts.

He leans in. Licks a slow stripe up the underside of your cock.

Your hands twitch at your sides. You don’t touch him. Not yet.

He doesn’t look up when he takes you into his mouth. Just sinks down, slow and steady, jaw relaxed like he’s done this a dozen times—maybe not for anyone else, but in his head, you’re sure he’s thought about it. Over and over.

His tongue presses firmly along the base. His lips seal around you, and he moans—soft, like it’s for him, not you. The vibration makes your knees buckle.

He takes his time. Pulls off to suck at the head, just enough to make you gasp. Then down again—deeper, sloppier now, until your cock hits the back of his throat and he still doesn’t stop.

You manage his name. Once. Barely.

His hands grip your thighs, firm and steady, keeping you in place. He sucks you down again and again, never breaking eye contact, never faltering. He wants you to watch. To know exactly how far he’s willing to go.

When you start to lose control—hips stuttering, breath slipping—he only tightens his hold and hums around you again. That pushes you over.

You come with a choked breath, your hand in his hair, every nerve lit up. He doesn’t pull back. Doesn’t spill a drop.

When it’s done, when your heart’s still racing and your fingers are trembling, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand like it’s nothing.

Then he leans in again, not to kiss you, but just to speak.

Voice low. Calm. Possessive.

“Next time,” he murmurs, “you’re going to beg for it.”

⋆｡°✩  

You wake up before your alarm.

The light in your bedroom is pale, soft, barely filtered through your blinds. The air is cool against your skin, your sheets kicked halfway off the bed, your body still aching in that strange, satisfying way. Not sore. Just… used. Thoroughly.

Jiho is still asleep beside you.

His hand is curled against the pillow, palm up, fingers relaxed like he has nothing left to chase. His mouth is parted slightly. His hair’s a mess. One leg is tangled with yours beneath the blanket.

You lie there for a moment, still and quiet.

You don’t know what time he fell asleep. You don’t know if he meant to stay. You don’t even know if he thinks this was a one-time thing or the start of something. You should care.

You do care.

You just don’t know what to do with it yet.

Eventually, you get up. Carefully. Quietly.

You don’t leave the room, just stand near the doorway, shirt half-on, trying to figure out what you’re supposed to feel. It doesn’t feel like a victory. Or relief. It just feels inevitable.

You reach for your phone out of habit. You’ve got two unread messages.

One from your replacement manager, asking if you’re available for a rescheduled meeting later in the week.

And one from an unknown number.

[hope you enjoyed last night. This is just the beginning.]

No context. No name. But your stomach drops anyway.

You read it again.

And again.

Behind you, Jiho shifts in the sheets.

You don’t turn around.

Not yet.

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© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

[dakusan]

C H A I N B I T E R

bang chan x reader | silver chain. pouty moans. and the lesson he teaches you when you act up.

🔞synopsis: he comes home from tour. you pout, you ignore his texts, you act up—because you want him mean. he keeps the chain on. and when you bite it? he folds you in half, fucks you dumb, and doesn’t let you cum until you’re crying, drooling, and begging for the cock you’ve been bratting for. he ruins you. then holds you like you’re breakable. because you are—and you’re his favourite thing to break.

💌a/n: welcome to filth friday, sluts. 🧷this fic is dedicated to the chokehold that silver chains + pouty brattiness + missionary with a vengeance have on my brain. chan keeps the chain on. you bite it. he loses his mind. we all win. p.s. reblogs = love. comments = spit in my mouth. tags = my new religion. p.p.s. missionary is not vanilla when he growls in your ear and denies your orgasms p.p.p.s. if you reblog this while still recovering? i see you. i respect you.

⚠️ warnings: NSFW 18+ ONLY. minors do not pass go, do not collect the chain | explicit sexual content | dom!bang chan, soft menace energy, and a very smug mouth | sub!reader with brat tendencies that get corrected | jewellery kink (chain stays ON. you bite it. he breaks.) | missionary sex but feral — folded position, deep strokes, held down, no escape | denial / edging | cockdrunk reader | dirty talk, degradation + praise mix (“mine.” “good girl.” “you don’t get to cum yet.”) | aftercare | breeding kink tones | crying & tears of pleasure | pouty!reader energy (literally the reason this entire fic exists. pout responsibly.)

📍credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

🎧 » TASTE — Stray Kids « 0:58 ─〇───── 3:37 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

The apartment feels colder without him.

It’s not actually cold—you’re curled up on the couch in nothing but his oversized hoodie, bare legs tucked beneath you, a mug of tea half-drunk on the coffee table. But it’s the kind of cold that seeps under your skin when the bed’s too big, the silence too loud, and your vibrator’s not doing the fucking job.

Your phone buzzes again. You don’t look.

You already know it’s him.

You’ve been ignoring him all day—not completely, just... enough. Left him on read once or twice. Gave him one-word replies. Didn’t answer the FaceTime this morning, even though you’d woken up with your hand between your thighs, aching from a dream you couldn’t finish.

It’s not fair, you know that. He’s on tour. He’s busy. He’s doing everything right—checking in, calling, sending those stupid audio messages that make your stomach flip when he whispers, “Miss you, baby. So much.”

But you’re needy.

Touch-starved. Cramps in your hips from curling up in bed alone. Horny to the point of irrational.

And the worst part? You can see him. Online. Onstage. Living in your phone like some cruel ghost. There he is at rehearsal. Dripping in sweat, shirt half-off, silver chain swinging with every breath. There he is in a fan-captured clip, laughing, flexing, biting his lip while dancing to your favorite track like he’s not out here ruining your life. And now? Now he has the audacity to send a mirror selfie. In the fucking studio. With the chain. The bracelets. The goddamn veins.

You nearly throw your phone across the room.

Instead, you sink deeper into the couch, bite the sleeve of his hoodie, and scream into the fabric.

“Fucking menace,” you mumble against your wrist.

He didn’t do anything wrong. That makes it worse.

Because now, every time you shift your hips, every time you think about his hands pinning you down and that cold metal chain slapping your chest while he fucks you stupid—

You can’t breathe.

You glance at your phone.

Three new messages.

[CHAN]: baby [CHAN]: don’t ignore me please [CHAN]: did i do something? talk to me

Your lip wobbles. Goddammit.

No. No. You’re supposed to be mad. Not real mad. Just pouty. Irritated. Like a girl whose boyfriend hasn’t been around to wreck her properly in over two weeks.

You don’t want sweet texts.

You want teeth on your throat. Fingers in your mouth. You want him to press your legs up and fuck the attitude out of you until you’re crying and clinging to his stupid chain like it’s the only thing keeping you sane.

Your gaze flicks to the bedroom door.

Then to the drawer.

You reach for the vibrator. Pause. Throw it back in.

“Fuck it,” you whisper. “Not tonight.”

If he were here, you wouldn’t even need it. He’d just look at you, and you’d be done for.

You bury yourself deeper into the cushions, grumbling, annoyed with the world. The room smells like him. The hoodie smells like him. Your whole body aches from missing him—not emotionally. Physically. Raw, feral want.

So you ignore the phone again.

Because if he really misses you? Let him come get you. Let him walk through that door and make it up to you with his chain swinging and his hands on your throat. Let him see what happens when he makes a needy girl wait too long.

The keys hit the lock at 1:37AM.

You hear them before you see him—metal clinking, a shuffle, a low curse. You barely manage to mute the TV before the door swings open.

He’s here.

And he looks like sin.

Black hoodie half-zipped, chain glinting just above the collar. His damp hair is pushed back with one hand, the other dragging his suitcase inside. His duffel slumps to the floor. Then he sees you—curled on the couch, one leg bare, still in his hoodie, sleeves covering your hands.

For a second, he just stares. Then that mouth curves. “You’re still up.”

You shrug, trying to look casual. You are not casual. Your thighs are clenched under the throw blanket, and your heart’s pounding like you weren’t just imagining that exact chain slapping against your collarbone while he fucks you into the mattress.

“Barely,” you say, voice too innocent.

His gaze drops to your bare thighs. Then back to your face. “Didn’t answer my texts.”

“Didn’t feel like it.”

He huffs out a soft laugh. That cocky, knowing one. “Oh. It’s like that?”

You don’t reply. Just stretch with an exaggerated yawn, lifting your arms enough for the hem of his hoodie to ride up. No shorts. Just skin. His tongue runs across his bottom lip. The chain shifts with the way he breathes, catching the lamplight.

“Were you waiting for me?”

“Not really.”

���Mhm.” He drops his hoodie onto a chair. “So the blanket, the hoodie, and no pants—that’s just what you wear now?”

You narrow your eyes. “Why are you talking like that?”

“Like what?”

“All smug.”

He grins. Oh no. He knows. Of course he knows.

“Baby,” he says, stepping closer. “You’ve been bratting out all week. You think I can’t tell?”

Your breath catches. Heat coils instantly in your gut.

“Didn’t say anything when I sent you that mirror pic. Left my voice note on read. Ignored the one where I said I wanted to fuck you through the floor.” He pauses. Tilts his head. “Nothing to say now either?”

You stare up at him. Slowly pull the blanket off your lap. “I missed you,” you admit, soft.

“I know,” he murmurs. “I missed you too.”

A pause. Then—

“I also know that pout’s not about feelings.”

“What’s it about, then?”

He’s standing over you now, hands on his hips, chain resting just beneath his throat. “It’s about the fact that you haven’t been fucked in two weeks.”

You look away. Cheeks hot. “And?”

“And you’re soaked just from seeing me walk in the door.”

You shoot him a glare, but it’s weak at best. He sees right through it. And worse? You see his jaw flex—barely—before he lets out a dark, low laugh.

“Get up.”

You blink. “What?”

“Up.”

You rise slowly, confused. He reaches forward and lifts the hoodie—his hoodie—up and off your body in one smooth motion. You shiver at the loss of warmth. Now you’re just standing there in panties and nothing else.

He steps back. Eyes dark. “You waited for me like this?”

You nod, shy now. “Wanted to be ready,” you mumble.

His lips part just slightly. His gaze drops, lingers on your hips, then snaps back up.

And then—

His hands are on your thighs, fast.

“Jump.”

You don’t think. You obey.

He catches you with ease, arms firm under your thighs, the chill of his bracelets biting into your skin. Your breath hitches as your legs wrap around his waist, chest flush against his. His chain presses cold between your breasts, and he’s not even trying to hide the way he grinds against your panties on instinct.

“You think I don’t know what that look means?” he murmurs, voice brushing hot against your cheek. “Little pout. Ignoring my calls like I wouldn’t drop everything to ruin you the second I walked through the door.”

You squirm against him, but he tightens his grip—just enough to pin your hips in place.

“Could’ve told me, baby,” he breathes, walking toward the bedroom. “Could’ve just said, ‘Chan, I’m wet and I miss your cock.’ I’d have flown home yesterday.”

He kicks the bedroom door open without a pause. Keeps walking until your back hits the mattress in a controlled drop. You bounce once, hair a mess, legs open, breathing ragged.

He stands at the edge of the bed, staring down at you like he’s starving.

Then he peels off the hoodie.

His shirt follows. Then the pants. He leaves the jewelry. Every bit of it. Rings, bracelets, and that fucking chain.

You swallow hard, mouth dry.

“Want me to take it off?” he teases, watching your eyes follow the chain.

You shake your head. “Keep it.”

“Oh yeah?”

You nod. Voice barely a whisper now. “Wanna see it dangling, wanna bite it.”

That does something to him. His jaw flexes. His cock twitches against the band of his briefs. “Fuck.” He climbs onto the bed like a man possessed. Cages you under him in one smooth motion, his hands planted firm beside your head, chain dangling just above your lips.

You glance up at him, pupils blown wide.

“Say it again.”

“I want to bite it.”

“While I’m inside you?”

“Yes.”

“While I’m ruining that little attitude?”

“Please.” You barely finish the word—“please”—before he’s kissing you like he’s making up for every second he’s been gone.

It’s not sweet. It’s hungry.

His mouth claims yours with a groan, hot and wet and open, tongue sliding past your lips like he already knows what you taste like. His chain swings between you, brushing your throat every time he shifts, a cold contrast to the heat pouring off his skin.

You moan into the kiss. He drinks it like oxygen.

Then he sinks down fully, settling between your thighs with the kind of weight that makes you feel pinned—owned. His cock presses hard against the soaked fabric of your panties, still trapped behind his briefs, but thick enough to make you gasp when he grinds down. “Fuck, baby,” he groans into your mouth. “You’ve been holding out on me. This pussy’s starving.”

Your back arches. You’re soaked, the wet patch obvious now—heat meeting heat as he rocks against you, slow and punishing, like he’s savoring every drag of his cock over your clit.

“Thought about this every night,” he whispers, dragging his mouth along your jaw. “This exact spot. These hips. The way you whimper when I press right… here—”

He thrusts just right. Your head falls back.

He kisses down your neck, slow and greedy. The cold metal of his chain follows, dragging like ice down your collarbone, between your breasts.

“Missed this fucking body,” he breathes, licking a stripe along your throat. “Missed the way you twitch for me. How you bite your lip to keep quiet.”

He grinds down again. And again. Until your hips start chasing his, until your nails dig into his back.

“Chan,” you pant, “I—I need—”

He shushes you with another kiss, deeper this time. He kisses you until you can’t think, until all you can do is cling to him, his chain brushing your lips like it wants to be bitten.

You’re pulsing through your panties. You know he feels it. You feel the smirk when he pulls back, just enough to look you in the eye.

“You gonna make a mess before I’m even inside?”

You glare. He chuckles darkly. “Go on then, baby. Rub that pretty cunt all over my cock. Show me how much you need it.”

You moan—needy, wrecked—and tilt your hips up into him, grinding against the thick ridge of him through both layers of fabric. “Fucking please,” you whimper. “Want you so bad.”

“You’ve got me,” he growls. “You have me.”

His hand slips between your bodies, pushing his briefs down just enough for his cock to spring free—hot, flushed, already leaking. He swears low under his breath.

“God, baby. Look what you do to me.”

Then he presses himself against your soaked panties again, bare cock against soaked fabric, and grinds. Slow. Deep. Purposeful.

“You feel that?” he grits. “You feel how hard I am for you?”

You nod frantically. “Yes, yes—Chan, please—”

“You want me to rip these off?” You can barely speak. “Or you wanna be good and ask nicely?”

You can barely speak.

Your whole body is tense—writhing beneath him, soaked and shaking and on the edge of sobbing for it. He sees it. Loves it. The way your breath catches. The way your thighs twitch around his waist. “C’mon, baby,” he murmurs, lips brushing your cheek. “One sweet word, and I’ll give you everything.”

Your eyes flutter shut. “Please,” you whisper. “Take them off. Please, Chan—need you…”

That’s all it takes.

He groans softly, like the sound is pulled from deep in his chest, and finally—finally—hooks his fingers in the sides of your panties. He drags them down your legs like he’s unwrapping you. Not fast. Not greedy. Just slow, like he’s enjoying every second of you bare and spread beneath him. When they’re off, he kisses the inside of your thigh. Then higher. Then higher.

But he doesn’t go where you want. No. He climbs back up your body, and you think—thank God, he’s going to fuck me—But instead, his mouth goes to your chest.

“So fucking pretty,” he breathes, eyes locked on yours as he kisses just above your heart.

His hand palms one breast, thumb circling the nipple until it peaks under his touch. His mouth follows—hot, open, wet—and he sucks, slow and deep.

You gasp. He groans. The sound vibrates through your chest.

Then he pulls back just enough to nip—just a little—right over the mark he made. “That feel good, baby?”

You nod, breathless. “Y-Yeah—more—”

He moves to the other breast. Does the same. Tongue first. Then lips. Then teeth. Your back arches into him, hands twisting in the sheets. The chain dangles against your sternum, cold and perfect, catching in the valley between your tits as he worships you. “Could spend hours right here,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue across your nipple. “Could make you cum just from this.”

“Please,” you pant. “I need more—Chan, please, I—”

He hushes you again with a kiss.

Then he trails down. And down. And down. Mouth dragging over your stomach. Teeth grazing the curve of your waist. He settles between your thighs, breath warm and heavy against your dripping cunt.

But he doesn’t lick. Not yet.

“God, baby,” he groans, almost reverent. “You’re fucking soaked.”

You whimper. Try to lift your hips. He holds you down. “Be good,” he warns softly. “Be still.”

You try. You really do.

But then he spits—just a little—hot and slick onto your clit, and you jerk like you’ve been shocked. “So sensitive,” he murmurs, smirking as he leans in.

And then—then—he licks. One slow, torturous stripe up your cunt. Flat tongue. No mercy.

You moan, loud, thighs clamping around his head.

He groans into your pussy, pressing his mouth harder, licking deeper, like he’s starving. His chain dangles against your inner thigh now, cool and maddening with every pass.

And just when you start to build—just when your toes curl, your body tenses, and you’re right there—

He pulls back. “Nuh uh,” he says, voice thick and smug. “You don’t get to cum yet.”

You sob. He kisses your thigh, then blows softly on your wet, throbbing clit just to be cruel. “You’re gonna cum with me inside you,” he murmurs. “With this chain in your mouth, and my cock so deep you forget your own name.”

Your hips twitch. Your eyes roll back. He grins at the sight.

And his mouth returns to your cunt like a man addicted—like he’s missed this more than sleep, more than air, more than the stage itself. His tongue licks deeper now, deliberate, dragging slick through your folds and sucking gently at your clit like he knows exactly how much you can take.

“Fucking perfect,” he groans against you. “Tastes like you missed me.”

You cry out, hands flying to his hair, gripping tight. He lets you. For now. Then—

His fingers join the party.

Two of them, thick and slick, pressing at your entrance and sliding in with no resistance. Your walls clench instantly.

“Oh my God—Chan—!”

“Shhh. You’re fine.” He curls them. “You’re so fucking fine.”

His lips wrap around your clit again just as his fingers start thrusting—slow at first, then deeper, firmer, building rhythm. Every drag hits that spot inside you that makes you see stars.

You’re so close it’s shameful. Your hips roll into his face. Your moans are embarrassingly loud now. And just as you hit that edge—

He pulls away again. His mouth gone. Fingers stilled inside you.

“Wha—why—” you gasp, blinking through the haze.

He looks up from between your thighs. His lips are slick, his chin glistening, the chain glinting as he rises slightly, his fingers still buried to the knuckle in your fluttering pussy.

“Brats don’t get to cum without permission.”

You whimper. Physically ache. “Channie, please—”

“You gave me attitude. You ignored me. You made me wait.”

He slides his fingers out slowly, watching them glisten in the low light. You’re dripping. He presses them back in—just one knuckle—then pauses again. “Now you’ll wait.”

“I said sorry—”

“Did you mean it?”

“Yes—”

“Then you’ll be good.” His voice is soft, dangerous. “Keep those legs open. Take what I give you. And you don’t cum until I say.”

You nod frantically.

“Say it,” he demands, pushing his fingers in deep again.

“I won’t cum,” you gasp. “Not unless you say.”

“Good girl.”

And just like that—his mouth is back.

He fucks you with his fingers while he sucks your clit with precision. Every moan you make only spurs him on. He watches your body unravel, his chain swinging between your breasts with every jolt of pleasure.

You’re shaking again. So close it hurts. Your eyes roll back—your legs tremble—your whole body’s about to give out—

“Don’t,” he warns, pulling his mouth off just enough to speak. “Don’t even think about it.”

Your hips jerk. He curls his fingers and presses his tongue harder. “Not until I say.”

You’re crying now. Wrecked. Gutted. Desperate. And still, he doesn’t let you have it.

“That’s it,” he whispers, lips wet against your thigh. “You feel that? That’s what brats get.”

“Channie, please,” you sob. “I need it—I’ll be good, I promise, I’ll—”

“I know you will,” he coos.

Then he withdraws completely.

You scream.

“You’re gonna be so fucking good for me now,” he mutters, climbing back over you.

His cock, thick and flushed, brushes against your inner thigh. You’re slick enough he could slide right in. But he doesn’t. Not yet. He leans in, chain swinging.

“Open your mouth.”

You do. He places the chain between your lips. “Bite.”

You bite. The chain presses cold between your teeth, sharp metal on your tongue, a mouthful of him. Of ownership. Of need. You moan around it as he grips your thighs tighter, spreads them wider, and finally—finally—guides his cock to your soaked, twitching entrance.

“Look at that,” he breathes, staring down between your legs. “You’re begging for it.”

You are. Your pussy flutters, aching, empty for so long you can barely think. His tip nudges your entrance, hot and heavy and thick, and just the brush makes your whole body tense.

“Been saving this for you,” he murmurs, dragging his cock slowly through your folds. “Didn’t even jerk off on tour. You know how fucking hard that was?”

You whimper around the chain.

He grins. “Yeah, you do.”

Then—without warning—he pushes in. Just the head. You sob.

“Fuck, baby…” he groans. “So tight. So wet. You missed this cock, didn’t you?”

You nod frantically, teeth clenched on the chain. Your walls spasm around him, already trying to pull him deeper. And he gives it to you. Inch by inch. Stretching you slow, deliberate, merciless. You feel everything. Every vein. Every ridge. Every twitch and pulse.

By the time his hips finally press flush against yours, you’re shaking.

“That’s it,” he whispers. “Take it. Take all of it.”

He stills. Deep. Thick. Fucking perfect.

You can’t breathe. You can’t move. You’re so full it borders on painful, the burn and pressure delicious in its cruelty. He leans down over you, forearms braced beside your head. The chain swings, slipping from your perfect lips but brushing them.

You’re clenching around him—helpless, desperate—and he doesn’t move.

“That’s right,” he breathes. “Hold me. Grip me tight like that.”

He pulls halfway out. You sob. Then thrusts back in. Hard. And stills again. You’re drooling at this point, chest heaving, vision blurred.

“You think you can brat your way into getting fucked?” he growls, mouth brushing your ear. “You think this pussy deserves to cum yet?”

You shake your head. Tears well.

“That’s right. Not yet. Not fucking yet.”

Then he starts to move. Slow. Deep. Devastating.

His hips roll with purpose, like every stroke is a lesson, a punishment, a promise. His cock drags against every swollen nerve inside you, hitting that spot so precisely it almost feels cruel. And he doesn’t let up—not even a little.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, voice thick. “You feel that? Feel how deep I am?”

You nod, barely. You’re breathless, moaning with every slow, relentless thrust.

“So fucking tight,” he pants. “You’re squeezing me like you don’t wanna let go.”

You don’t. You can’t. You’re gripping him like a vice, your legs trembling around his waist, the chain now hanging loose across your chest—dragging over your nipples every time he fucks into you just right.

He leans in, kisses your jaw, then your throat. His hips grind at the end of each thrust, pressing his cock even deeper, and you swear you can feel him in your stomach.

“This pussy’s mine,” he growls. “Say it.”

You gasp, voice wrecked. “It’s yours.”

“Say it again.”

“Yours—Channie—it’s yours—!”

His pace picks up. Not fast, but harder. More pressure. More control. He’s fucking you like he owns you—like he earned this. Like he waited two weeks for the chance to bury himself so deep in you, you’d never forget what it felt like to be full of him.

“That’s my girl,” he breathes, sweat dotting his temple. “My bratty little baby. Thought you could tease me, huh?”

You whine—shaking beneath him, overstimulated already, toes curling with every thick, slow stroke.

“Missed this cock so much,” he murmurs, voice rough as he licks the sweat from your neck. “Should’ve begged. Should’ve dropped to your knees the second I got home.”

He pulls out just slightly—just the tip—before slamming back in, hard.

You scream.

He does it again. And again. Punishing. Precise.

“But no,” he growls. “You wanted to act up. So now? You get fucked how I say.”

Your hands claw at his back. Your nails leave marks. Your eyes roll back when he grabs your throat—not choking, just holding. Grounding. Possessive.

“You wanna cum, baby?”

You nod, crying now.

“You wanna fall apart all over my cock?”

You sob, “Please.”

He leans down. Mouth at your ear. Voice like a fucking curse. “Then earn it.”

He lets go of your throat, pulls your legs up higher around his hips, changes the angle—and fucks into you so deep you see white. Your hands shoot up, grabbing at his chain again. You yank it between your teeth, moaning around the metal like it’s your only lifeline.

“That’s it,” he growls. “Bite down. Be good. Take every inch.”

He’s fucking you hard now. Relentless. The bed slams against the wall, your cries muffled by the chain in your mouth, your body trembling under his. You don’t know where he ends and you begin. All you know is his voice, his cock, his chain, and how fucking close you are.

He knows it too.

Your body is a mess beneath him—shaking, leaking, barely holding on. Your mouth is full of chain and nothing else makes sense. You’re right there.

So he changes it up. Again.

Without warning, he pulls out—just for a second—and grabs your thighs.

You whimper in confusion, but he’s already moving.

He presses your legs together, tight, then lifts them up and folds them toward your chest, locking your thighs against him with one arm. The angle is obscene—your pussy now swollen, dripping, needy, completely exposed to him like a fucking feast.

He lines up again.

“Hold still.”

You can’t move anyway. He thrusts back in, all at once. You moan.

“Oh my god—”

“Yeah?” he growls, voice cracking. “That’s what you wanted?”

His arm flexes as he locks your legs to his chest, other hand gripping the headboard for leverage as he slams into you—deep, brutal, unforgiving.

Your mouth falls open. The chain slips from your lips, damp and clinking against your chest as your head tips back, jaw slack.

You’re drooling. Literally. You don’t even realize it. And still—still—he doesn’t let you cum. “You feel that?” he pants. “Hear how fucking wet you are?”

Slap slap slap—your pussy sounds obscene, slick gushing down your ass, pooling beneath you as he fucks into the tight, hot mess he’s made of you.

“You fucking live for this cock, don’t you?”

You nod, eyes rolled back, moaning like you’ve already cum three times.

“Say it,” he snaps, thrusts slamming into you. “Say you’re cockdrunk. Say you need it.”

You try.

Nothing comes out.

You’re babbling, lips trembling, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“What’s that, baby? Can’t talk?” he mocks, voice half-gone, fully feral. “Already gone and I haven’t even let you cum?”

His cock pulses inside you, thick and angry, twitching with the effort to hold back—but he doesn’t break. Not yet.

He wants you ruined.

He wants you begging.

“Not yet,” he growls. “You’re not there yet.”

You choke on a sob, head thrashing, arms reaching up to grab anything—his wrist, his chain, the sheets—but it’s not enough. The pressure in your gut is unbearable. Your cunt’s fluttering around him like you’re already mid-orgasm. You’re leaking down his balls, dripping from the stretch, absolutely wrecked.

And he loves it.

“You’ll cum,” he promises, fucking deeper, harder. “But not until you break. Not until you’re drooling and sobbing and begging for it with that pretty little voice I own.”

Your brain’s gone fuzzy.

Nothing left but heat and pressure and the sound of him—filthy, brutal, mercilessly deep. Your body isn’t even yours anymore. You’re limp in his hold, legs pressed together and pinned to his chest while his cock splits you open over and over, dragging against that spot inside you with every punishing thrust.

And you still haven’t cum. You can’t cum. Not until he says.

“Come on, baby,” he growls, his voice wrecked with effort. “Where’s that sweet little voice now?”

You sob, drooling down your chin, lips trembling around broken words that won’t form. “Nngh—Ch-Chan, I—please—”

“That’s it,” he moans. “Beg for it.”

Your hands claw uselessly at the sheets. “P-please,” you cry. “Please—I n-need—I can’t—Channie, please—your cock, I need it—need to cum—please—”

Your cunt clenches around him so hard it nearly makes him lose rhythm. He grunts, digging his fingers into your thighs, pace faltering just enough to grind deep before resuming that relentless rhythm.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he snarls. “Dripping all over me, baby. You’re gonna ruin the bed.”

“I-I don’t care—please, please—”

Your body twitches, helpless under him, tears leaking into your hairline, mouth open and glossy, his name the only thing you know how to say.

“Say what you are.”

“Wh—what?”

He thrusts hard, knocking the breath out of you. “Say what. You. Are.”

“I’m—fuck—I’m yours—I’m your fucktoy—I’m cockdrunk, I—”

“You’re what?”

“I’m cockdrunk, Channie—please—please let me cum—”

He slams into you so deep you nearly scream, chest arching into his grip, your vision flickering to white. “That’s right,” he moans, voice unravelling. “That’s my baby. All mine. This pussy—mine. Say it.”

“Yours—yours—yours—!”

“You wanna cum?”

“Please—”

“Then fucking do it.”

Your body shatters. It’s not even an orgasm—it’s a detonation. You clamp down around him, sobbing, your whole body convulsing as wave after wave crashes through you. You can’t speak, can’t breathe, can’t even scream. All you can do is feel.

Feel him. Feel the stretch. Feel your pussy gush around his cock as you cum so hard it feels like it might kill you.

He doesn’t stop.

“That’s it,” he groans, fucking you through it. “Fucking soak me, baby—fuck—fuck—you’re milking my cock—”

Your mind’s gone. You’re nothing but a trembling, cockdrunk mess, tears and drool smeared across your face, still whispering “yours, yours, yours” under your breath like a prayer.

“Gonna cum inside you,” he pants, voice cracked and breaking. “Gonna fill you up—fuck—can I, baby?”

You nod frantically, eyes fluttering. “Give it to me—want it—want all of it—please—”

And then he breaks.

He fucks into you one last time—deep, desperate, final—and lets go with a raw, shuddering moan as he empties inside you, cock pulsing, hot cum spilling into your still-clenching pussy.

“Fuckfuckfuck—baby—”

He collapses over you, chain dragging across your chest, both of you soaked, panting, trembling messes.

And still…

You whisper, barely conscious, lips ghosting his ear: “Yours.”

Your body is done. You don’t even register the moment he pulls out—all you feel is the warmth spilling down your thighs, his cum leaking out slow and heavy as your pussy pulses in the aftermath.

You try to speak. Nothing comes out but a sigh and a tiny broken whimper.

He huffs a soft laugh above you, lips brushing your temple as he shifts just enough to kiss the corner of your mouth. You’re too wrecked to return it—eyes fluttering, fingers twitching in the sheets, hair a sweaty halo around your face.

“That’s what my pouty baby gets, huh?” he murmurs, voice low and too smug. “Act like a brat, get fucked stupid.”

You let out a soft, slurred noise.

He kisses you again—this time on your nose. Then your forehead. Then both cheeks. “You did so good for me,” he whispers, hand cupping your jaw. “Took it all like my perfect girl."

You blink up at him. Barely coherent. “Mmhnn…you’re…annoying.”

“Aww,” he coos, grin wide. “You sound so mad for someone who just came like her soul was leaving her body.”

“You ruined me.”

“Damn right I did.”

He kisses your lips, slow and deep, like he’s trying to pour himself back into you. His tongue licks into your mouth with lazy heat, but now it’s tender. Now it’s grounding. His chain is still resting against your skin. You reach up, weakly tug it.

“Still on,” you whisper.

“You earned it,” he says softly. “Might keep it on since you like it that much.”

Your thighs twitch. He notices. Of course he notices.

“Oh, now you’re getting greedy again?” he laughs, brushing your hair back from your face. “You’re leaking my cum and still trying to start something?”

You whine. He grins and kisses you quiet again. Then he finally shifts—gently—lifting your legs, helping you unfold from the wrecked, folded position. You hiss when your body relaxes, muscles trembling. He hushes you instantly. “I got you, baby. I got you.”

He eases you onto your side, tugs the blankets up, and disappears for just a moment.

You hear the faucet. The soft clink of a glass.

He returns with a warm towel, cleans you carefully—between your thighs, over your stomach, around the curve of your ass where the sheets are soaked. You flinch at first, but his touch is featherlight. Reverent.

“There she is,” he murmurs. “My messy, fucked-out girl.”

He kisses your knee.

“My perfect pouty baby.”

Then he tosses the towel aside, climbs into bed, and pulls you into his chest like he’s never letting go. You curl up instantly—limp, warm, safe. His arms wrap around your back, one hand stroking your spine. His lips stay near your temple.

You nuzzle in deeper. “Gonna sleep for a week,” you mumble.

“Gonna feed you first,” he murmurs. “Then let you sleep. Then fuck you again.”

“Chan—”

“What?” he grins. “My baby was hungry. I provided.”

“Provided a near-death experience.”

“You’re welcome.”

You laugh—weakly. He presses a kiss right over your pulse. “You okay?” he asks, quiet now. Real. “Too much?”

You shake your head against his chest. “Perfect.”

“Good. ‘Cause next time, I’m making you cum around my tongue five times before I even think about fucking you.”

Your breath catches. He just smirks.

“Sleep now, sweetheart,” he whispers, grinning against your hair. “You’ve earned it.” And you do—out like a light, drooling on his chest while he smirks like the menace he is.

[sturnibby]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ Chris blurb - "When in doubt, eat it out"

content warnings : pure smut, messy pussy eating, overstimulation english is not my first language!!

Lewd, sloppy slurping noises filled the bedroom as Chris lay between your spread thighs on his bed, your legs hooked over his shoulders as his fingers gripped tightly into your hips, holding you steady as he ate you out like a man absolutely starving to death.

Your mouth lay agape, jaw slack as the muscles in your legs twitched from how many orgasms you've already had, your fingers tangled within the curly bed of Chris's hair, tightening and loosening your grip every now and then with each flick of his tough.

"Ch–chris– I can't– I can't cum again," You whined breathlessly, thigh twitching and trying to close but instead held open by his head not leaving at all, as if he was reluctant to spend even a second away from your pussy.

Though, as you tugged at his curls, earning a groan from him as his mouth left your pillowy cunt, clit all puffy and overworked, you finally have a moment to breathe, chest rising and falling steadily. But as you look down at him, all you're met with are begging baby blues, his cheek pressed against your inner thigh as he pants softly, his hands palming your thighs.

"Please baby, just one more. I just need one more," He practically begs you, his lips pressing hot, open-mouthed kissing along the soft, plush skin of your thighs, his lips covered in the juices of your cunt. You could practically draw puppy ears on him and a wagging tail with how much he was acting like a needy puppy right now.

You let out a groaned whine, letting your head fall back as you thought about it, a shiver rushing up your spine as Chris licked along where your inner thighs met your pelvis, a sensitive area that he knew all too well. You let out a tired, breathy huff of a laugh before finally deciding to give in.

"Ok, fine.. One more, but no more after that–" But before you could even finish your sentence, you felt as his palms slipped to your under thighs before pushing them up, practically folding you as your knees pressed into the mattress, a gasp leaving your lips as your eyes widened.

"C-Chris–!" You whimpered out in surprise, heat rising to your cheeks at the erotic position you were in, but he gave you no room to speak any more as he licked a long stripe along your puffy folds, groaning at the taste before he started lapping at your cunt like a starving dog once more.

"Thank you, baby, thank you– god, thank you.." He murmured pussy-drunk words against your lips, letting your moans and sweet noises fill the room as his hips rutted against the bed, pre-cum staining his boxers as his cock strained against the fabric, humping the mattress like a damn dog as he ate you out just as messy as ever.

Lana's thoughts . . . first writing i'm posting, kind of nervous– hope this is good and you guys like it! <3

Find more of my work here.

© 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒃𝒃𝒚

[mandoalorian]

ride to you [bucky barnes x f!reader]

synopsis: seperated by miles, bucky barnes is out on a mission when he gets a late-night text message from you, and suddenly, he just can't do distance anymore.

rating/warnings: 18+ explicit content, mdni, unprotected p in v, fem receiving oral, fingering, breast play, sexting, mutual masturbation over video call, praise kink, bucky is all rough and desperate, and he struggles a bit with tech lol, …dog tags, motorcycle this smut has it all.

w/c: 3,885

masterlist | submit a request

The glow of your phone screen is the only light in your bedroom, casting soft shadows across the empty sheets. It’s 11:47 PM, and your desire for Bucky has you restless, your body aching with the need for him. He’s been gone three weeks, on some mission with Yelena and John keeping him a whole state away, and the distance is a cruel tease. Your fingers hover over the keyboard, then type out a message, heart already picking up speed.

You: Can’t sleep, soldier. Bed feels too damn big without you.

His reply pings almost instantly, like he’s been staring at his phone, waiting.

Bucky: Doll, you’re killing me already. Missing you so bad, I can’t think straight.

You smile, warmth curling in your chest. Bucky’s always been a little slow with tech—his texts are short, sometimes autocorrect mangles them—but the effort he puts in makes it sweeter. You can picture him, brow furrowed, big fingers fumbling on the tiny keyboard in some nondescript motel room.

You: What’s keeping you up, huh? Thinking about me?

Bucky: Every damn second. You in that little tank top you wear to bed? Or… less?

Your breath catches, a flush creeping up your neck. He’s bold tonight, and you love it.

You: Just a tank top. Barely. Wish you were here to see it.

There’s a longer pause, and you can almost hear the low groan he’d make.

Bucky: Sweetheart, you’re gonna make me break this phone. Tell me what you’d do if I was there.

Heat pools low in your belly, and you shift on the bed, thighs pressing together. You type slowly, savouring the anticipation.

You: I’d climb into your lap, kiss that spot on your jaw that makes you growl. Slide my hands under your shirt, feel those muscles… you’d be begging me to keep going.

His reply takes a minute, and when it comes, it’s a little messy, like he’s typing too fast.

Bucky: Fuck, doll. I’d pin you to that bed before you could tease me. Kiss you till you’re dizzy, hands all over you. That tank top wouldn’t last five seconds.

You bite your lip, pulse racing. The image of Bucky—broad shoulders, dog tags dangling, blue eyes blazing—has you squirming.

You: Oh, you think you’d have control? I’d have you groaning my name first, Barnes. Bet I could make you lose it just by grinding against you.

Bucky: You’d feel how hard you’re makin’ me already. I’d rip those panties off, make you scream for me.

Your fingers tremble as you type, the words coming faster now, dirtier.

You: I’d let you, Buck. Want your hands on me, your mouth… want you to fuck me till I can’t walk.

His next text is a single word, raw and desperate.

Bucky: Fuck.

Then, a follow-up.

Bucky: Call me. Now. Need to see you.

You hesitate, heart pounding. A call means FaceTime, and the thought of seeing him, hearing him, sends a fresh wave of heat through you.

You: FaceTime? You sure you know how to work that, old man?

Bucky: Shut up, doll. I figured out the damn button. Answer when I call, or I’m ridin’ to you tonight.

The threat—or promise—makes you grin, your body buzzing with anticipation. You adjust your tank top, letting one strap slip off your shoulder, and wait for the call.

Your phone buzzes with an incoming FaceTime call, and your heart leaps into your throat. You swipe to answer, and there’s Bucky, filling the screen, looking like sin itself. He’s shirtless, sprawled on a motel bed, the dim light catching the glint of his dog tags and the sheen of sweat on his chest. His hair’s a mess, falling into his eyes, and those blue eyes are dark, hungry, fixed on you. 

But there’s a flicker of frustration on his face as he fumbles with the phone, tilting it at an awkward angle.

“Damn it,” he mutters, voice gravelly. “This thing keeps—hold on, doll, I think I got it.” He props the phone against something, probably a pillow, and the view steadies, giving you a full shot of his broad shoulders and the taut muscles of his stomach. He squints at the screen, like he’s not sure it’s working. “You seein’ me okay? Or did I break this already?”

You laugh, the sound breathy with nerves and desire. “I see you, Buck. Looking like a damn dream.” You shift on your bed, letting the silky camisole slip further down your shoulder, the thin fabric barely covering you. You angle the phone to give him a teasing view of your collarbone, the curve of your chest. “Like what you see?”

His groan is instant, low and guttural. “Fuck, sweetheart, you’re gonna kill me.” He shifts, and you catch the way his hand moves off-screen, adjusting himself. “That top’s barely holdin’ on. Show me more.”

Heat floods your body, and you oblige, sliding the camisole down to reveal the tops of your breasts, your fingers lingering there. “Better?” you tease, voice husky.

Bucky’s jaw tightens, his metal hand flexing on the bed. “You’re playin’ dirty, doll. Keep goin’. Wanna see all of you.” He’s trying to sound commanding, but there’s a plea in his tone, raw and desperate.

You bite your lip, emboldened by his reaction. “Only if you give me something too, soldier.” You nod toward his lap, where his hand is resting just out of frame. “Show me what those texts were doing to you.”

He huffs a laugh, half-embarrassed, half-turned on. “Demanding much? Alright.” He adjusts, sliding his hand into his sweatpants, and you catch a glimpse of the bulge there before he eases them down just enough. He’s hard, and the sight of him touching himself, slow and deliberate, sends a jolt of heat straight to your core. “Your turn, sweetheart,” he rasps. “Touch yourself for me.”

Your breath hitches, and you don’t hesitate. You slip a hand under the hem of your camisole, pushing it up to expose your stomach, then lower, dipping into your panties. The first brush of your fingers against yourself makes you gasp, and Bucky’s eyes darken, his own hand moving faster.

“Fuck, doll, look at you,” he groans, voice thick. “So damn pretty. Keep goin’. Imagine it’s me touchin’ you.”

You do, your fingers circling as you picture his hands—rough, warm, and relentless. “Bucky,” you whimper, your hips shifting on the bed. “Wish it was you. Want your fingers, your mouth…”

He curses under his breath, his strokes growing rougher. “God, I’d devour you right now. Lick every inch of you till you’re screamin’ my name. Tell me how it feels, baby.”

“It’s so good,” you moan, your free hand gripping the sheets. “But not enough. Need you here, Buck. Need you inside me.” The words spill out, unfiltered, and you see the effect they have—his head tips back, a low growl rumbling from his chest.

“Keep talkin’ like that, and I’m gonna lose it,” he warns, but his hand doesn’t stop, and neither does yours. You’re both chasing the same high, the phone screen a cruel barrier between you. “Tell me what you’d do if I was there. Right now.”

You’re panting now, the pleasure building fast. “I’d climb on top of you,” you say, voice shaky. “Ride you so hard you’d forget your own name. Kiss you till you can’t breathe.”

“Fuck, yes,” he growls, his eyes locked on you, intense and wild. “I’d flip you over, fuck you into the mattress. Make you come so many times you’d beg me to stop.”

The filthy promises push you closer to the edge, your fingers moving faster, chasing the release. 

“Bucky, I’m—” you gasp, unable to finish the sentence as the pleasure crests.

“Me too, doll,” he grits out, his voice breaking. “Come for me. Let me see you.”

It hits you like a wave, your body arching as you cry out his name, trembling under your own touch. Bucky follows, a guttural moan tearing from his throat as he spills over his hand, his chest heaving. For a moment, you’re both silent, just breathing, the intimacy of the moment hanging heavy between you.

Then he laughs, rough and a little sheepish. “Well, damn. Never thought this phone thing could be that good.” He grabs a tissue, cleaning up, and you giggle, pulling your camisole back into place.

“Still hate technology?” you tease, your voice soft, sated.

He smirks, but his eyes are serious. “Not when it’s you on the other end. But this ain’t enough, sweetheart.” He leans closer to the screen, voice dropping. “I’m comin’ to you. Tonight.”

You blink, still hazy from the high. “Buck, you’re in—wherever you are. You can’t just—”

“Watch me,” he says, and you see him grab his leather jacket, tossing it over his shoulder. “Got my bike. I’m ridin’ to you. Be there by dawn.”

Your jaw drops, but the determination in his eyes tells you he’s not kidding. “You’re insane,” you whisper, but your heart’s racing again, thrilled.

“Insane for you,” he shoots back, already moving. “Get some rest, doll. You’re gonna need it when I get there.”

The call ends, leaving you staring at the blank screen, your body buzzing with anticipation and disbelief.

Bucky’s breath is still uneven as he ends the FaceTime call, the image of you—hot, panting, whispering his name—burned into his mind. His body’s buzzing, sated but nowhere near satisfied. 

The phone’s screen goes dark, but it doesn’t matter; he can still see you, feel the ghost of your voice in his ear, your words pulling him apart. “Need you inside me.” Fuck. He’s done waiting.

He’s on his feet in seconds, the motel room’s stale air doing nothing to cool the heat coursing through him. His leather jacket is slung over his shoulder, but he shrugs it on, the familiar weight grounding him. His duffel’s already packed—a habit from decades of moving fast, never settling. He grabs it, slings it across his chest, and heads for the door. The keys to his Harley jingle in his pocket, a promise of freedom, of you.

Outside, the night’s crisp, the motel’s neon sign buzzing faintly. His bike’s parked under a flickering streetlight, all black chrome and raw power, just like him. He swings a leg over, the leather seat creaking under his weight, and kicks the engine to life. The roar tears through the silence, vibrating in his chest, matching the thrum of his pulse. He’s in Pennsylvania, but you’re in New York, a good five-hour ride if he pushes it. He’s pushing it.

The highway stretches out, a dark ribbon under a sky smeared with stars. Bucky leans into the wind, the speedometer climbing as the bike eats up the miles. His mind’s a tangle of you—your teasing texts, the way you looked on that call, your body arching as you came for him. He grips the handlebars tighter, the metal of his left hand glinting in the moonlight. He’s not built for distance, not when it comes to you. Every mile feels like a taunt, every second a reminder of how bad he needs to touch you, taste you, feel you under him.

He replays the call in his head, your voice a siren song. “Ride you so hard you’d forget your own name.” His jaw clenches, a low growl escaping his throat, lost in the wind. He’s half-hard again just thinking about it, the memory of your fingers slipping into your panties, the soft moans you made. He shifts on the seat, trying to focus on the road, but it’s no use. You’re in his blood, and no amount of miles or cold air can shake you out.

A gas station looms ahead, the only light for miles. He pulls in, the bike’s rumble dropping to a low purr as he cuts the engine. His boots hit the gravel, and he stretches, rolling his shoulders. The attendant, a kid barely out of his teens, eyes the metal arm warily but says nothing as Bucky fills the tank. He checks his phone—2:37 AM. A text from you, sent just after the call.

You: You’re really coming? Be safe, soldier. I’ll be waiting…

He smirks, typing back with one hand, still clumsy with the touchscreen. Bucky: Damn right I’m comin’. Don’t sleep too deep, doll. Gonna need you awake.

He sends it, pockets the phone, and swings back onto the bike. The kid mutters something about “crazy night riders,” but Bucky’s already gone, the Harley roaring back to life. The road’s emptier now, just him and the hum of the engine, the world blurring past. He thinks about what’s waiting—your apartment, your bed, you in that flimsy camisole or maybe nothing at all. His foot presses harder on the throttle, the needle pushing past 90.

Dawn’s starting to bleed into the horizon when he hits the outskirts of New York, the city’s glow a faint promise. His body aches from the ride, but it’s nothing compared to the ache for you. He weaves through early traffic, the bike’s growl turning heads, but he doesn’t care. Your address is burned into his brain, every turn taking him closer. The thought of you, warm and waiting, maybe still flushed from earlier, has his heart pounding harder than the engine.

He pulls up to your building as the sky turns pink, the Harley’s rumble echoing off the brick. He cuts the engine, the silence sudden and heavy. His boots hit the pavement, and he takes a moment, catching his breath, running a hand through his wind-messed hair. The duffel slung over his shoulder, but all he can think about is you—steps away, behind that door, real and his.

He’s here. And he’s not leaving until you’re screaming his name.

The stairwell to your apartment is a blur as Bucky bounds up, boots thudding on the creaking wood, his pulse a war drum in his ears. The five-hour ride on his Harley—wind tearing at him, miles bleeding into the night—has only sharpened his need. Your door looms at the end of the hall, and he’s there in seconds, fist hovering for a soft knock. It’s 6:13 AM; he won’t wake your neighbours. The rap is quiet but urgent, his metal hand twitching, impatient.

The door flies open, and you’re a vision that stops his heart. That silky camisole clings to you, one strap slipped off your shoulder, barely containing the curves he’s been dreaming of. Your hair’s tousled, eyes wide with shock and want, lips parted like you’re about to speak. But Bucky doesn’t give you the chance. His duffel hits the floor, and he’s on you, hands cradling your face as he crashes his mouth to yours. The kiss is raw, all-consuming, teeth clashing, tongues tangling, weeks of pent-up longing spilling out. He tastes you—mint toothpaste and something sweeter, something you—and it’s better than any fantasy.

“Bucky,” you gasp when he pulls back for air, your fingers knotting in his hair, tugging just hard enough to make him growl. He kicks the door shut, the slam echoing, and lifts you like you weigh nothing. Your legs wrap around his waist, thighs tight against his hips, and he groans as your heat presses through his jeans. The leather jacket’s cool against your bare arms, but his body’s a furnace, searing where he holds you.

“Told you I’d come, doll,” he rasps, voice rough from the road and desire.

He carries you to the bedroom, lips trailing fire down your jaw, nipping the pulse point on your neck that makes you shudder. Your nails rake his shoulders, shoving at his jacket, and he shrugs it off mid-stride, dog tags jangling as it hits the floor. You’re clawing at his shirt now, and he yanks it over his head, tossing it aside, leaving him in just those damn tags and jeans slung low on his hips.

He sets you on the bed, stepping back to drink you in. The camisole’s riding up, exposing the soft skin of your stomach, your thighs parted just enough to make his mouth water. Your eyes are dark, pupils blown, and the way you’re looking at him—like he’s everything—has his chest tight.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he says, voice thick with praise, the words wrapping around you like a caress. He crawls over you, caging you with his body, his flesh hand snagging both your wrists and pinning them above your head. The restraint sends a spark through you, and he feels it, sees it in the way you arch. “Gonna make you scream for me, sweetheart. You’re mine.”

The possessiveness laces his tone, and you shiver, lips curving into a defiant smirk. “Prove it, soldier.”

That’s all he needs. His mouth claims yours again, deep and filthy, tongue stroking in a way that promises what’s coming. His metal hand slides under your camisole, cold against your fevered skin, and he doesn’t bother with finesse—just rips the fabric down the middle, the tear loud in the quiet room. You gasp, but his lips are there, soothing, kissing the sting away as the scraps fall. “I’ll buy you another one,” he murmurs, but you’re too far gone to care, your hands straining against his grip, wanting to touch him.

His mouth moves lower, hot and deliberate, sucking at the swell of your breast, teeth grazing your nipple until you whine. He laves it with his tongue, then moves to the other, leaving marks you’ll feel tomorrow. “So fuckin’ responsive,” he growls, voice vibrating against your skin. He trails kisses down your stomach, each one slower, teasing, until he’s settled between your thighs. His hands—flesh and metal—grip your hips, spreading you open, and he just stares, eyes black with hunger. “Look at you, doll. So wet for me. Been like this since our call, haven’t you?”

You nod, breathless, and he chuckles, dark and dirty. “Good girl.” The praise hits like a drug, and then his mouth’s on you, no warning, just a slow, devastating lick through your folds. You cry out, hips bucking, but his metal arm pins you down, unrelenting. He groans, the sound rumbling through you, and it’s like he’s starving, tongue circling your clit, sucking hard, then dipping lower to taste you deeper. “Sweetest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever had,” he says, voice muffled, and you’re already trembling, the pleasure sharp and overwhelming.

His flesh hand joins in, fingers teasing your entrance, circling until you’re begging, voice broken. 

“Bucky, please, need you—” He doesn’t make you wait, sliding two fingers inside, thick and curling just right, hitting that spot that makes your vision white out.

You moan, loud and shameless, as he pumps them slow, then faster, his tongue never stopping, sucking your clit like it’s his mission to ruin you. “That’s it, doll,” he says, lifting his head just enough to watch you writhe. “Love those sounds. Keep makin’ ‘em for me.”

You’re close, too close, the coil tightening with every thrust of his fingers, every flick of his tongue. He senses it, doubles down, sucking hard as his fingers twist, and you’re gone, screaming his name as you come, body arching off the bed. He doesn’t stop, working you through it, licking every shudder until you’re gasping, oversensitive, tugging at his hair to pull him up.

He crawls over you, kissing you deep, and you taste yourself on his tongue, the intimacy making you dizzy. “So damn beautiful when you come,” he whispers, and the praise sinks into you, warm and perfect. His jeans are still on, tented painfully, and you reach for him, fingers clumsy with need as you pop the button, drag the zipper down. He helps, kicking them off with his boxers, and you pause, just looking—his cock’s thick, hard, leaking at the tip, and the sight makes your mouth water.

“Need you, Bucky,” you say, voice raw, reaching for him. “Now.”

He smirks, but his eyes are soft, reverent. “Gonna give you everything, sweetheart.” He settles between your thighs, teasing your entrance with his tip, dragging it through your slick until you’re whining. “You want me to fuck you, doll? Want me to make you mine?”

“Yes,” you breathe, legs wrapping around him, pulling him closer. “Please, Bucky.”

He doesn’t tease anymore. He pushes in, slow and relentless, stretching you inch by inch, and you both groan, the feeling overwhelming. He’s big, filling you completely, and he stills, letting you adjust, his forehead pressed to yours. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grits out, voice strained, his dog tags dangling, brushing your chest. “Feel so damn perfect, doll. Like you were made for me.”

You clench around him, and he curses, low and filthy. “Keep doin’ that, and I won’t last,” he warns, but you just smirk, rolling your hips to take him deeper. He growls, pinning your wrists again, the restraint making you burn. “Oh, you’re gonna pay for that, sweetheart.”

He starts moving, and it’s everything—deep, powerful thrusts, his hips snapping against yours, the bed creaking under the force. You meet him thrust for thrust, arching up, the friction perfect, his cock hitting that spot inside you with every stroke. “Fuck, Bucky,” you moan, and he leans down, sucking a bruise into your neck, marking you as his.

“Mine,” he growls, each word punctuated by a thrust, his metal hand gripping your hip, anchoring you. “Say it, doll. Tell me you’re mine.”

“Yours,” you gasp, the word a prayer, and he rewards you, angling his hips to hit even deeper, the pleasure blinding. His pace quickens, relentless, and you’re both panting, sweat-slick and desperate. 

“Love how you feel,” he groans, voice rough. “So wet, so tight, takin’ me so fuckin’ good.”

The dirty talk pushes you higher, and you claw at his back, nails digging in, making him hiss. 

“Harder,” you beg, and he delivers, fucking you into the mattress, the headboard rattling. His flesh hand releases your wrists, sliding between you to rub tight circles on your clit, and you cry out, the added sensation too much. “Bucky, I’m gonna—”

“Come for me,” he commands, possessive and fierce. “Wanna feel you, doll. Let go.”

It hits like a freight train, your body convulsing, clenching around him as you scream his name, pleasure tearing through you. He groans, thrusts growing erratic, chasing his own release. “Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me so tight,” he pants, and then he’s coming, spilling inside you, hot and deep, his hips stuttering as he buries himself to the hilt.

You’re both trembling, locked together, and he doesn’t pull out, staying close, kissing you slow and deep, tongues lazy now, sated. His weight is grounding, his tags cool against your chest, and you feel every shudder of his breath. “No more distance,” he murmurs, voice a vow, his lips brushing yours. “I’m not leavin’ you again, sweetheart.”

You smile, fingers tracing his jaw, his stubble rough under your touch. “Better not, soldier. I’m keeping you forever.”

He chuckles, soft and warm, rolling to his side and pulling you with him, still inside you, like he can’t bear to break the connection. “Forever sounds good, doll.”

────✪────

Sebastian Stan taglist: @notreallythatlost @houseofaegon @bunnyfella @sunday-bug @wintrsoldrluvr @maryevm @mcira @monsteraddicts-world

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[onlymingyus]

Let Me Hear You Say...

pairing; kim mingyu x f reader

genre; smut (minor dni), heavy angst, fluff, toxic, ranch au, brothers best friend au

summary; Your brother calls you home and you quickly remember why you left the ranch in the first place. At least the scenery got a lot more handsome with the ranch foreman, Kim Mingyu at his side.

content warnings; death of a family member, family trauma, older brother!seungcheol, lawyer!reader, ranch hand/foreman!mingyu, ranch hands – jun/soonyoung/chan, arguing, crying, toxic family relationship, eating/drinking, rich reader & seungcheol, physical fight, blood, bruises. i know nothing about how an estate actually works and that shows but i did my best. (Patreon has it’s own warnings)

smut warnings; unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, oral (f receiving), mingyu is able to carry the reader (strength kink), pet names.

w/c; 28.8k and some change (including Patreon bonus)

a/n; thank you to my june for proofreading. i love you sugar butt. i hope you guys like this one. its very much self serving. i mean come on… it’s mingyu and its ranch au (im as southern as southern can be). thank you for reading my loves!

before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here

“She’s here for how long?” 

Lifting two of the suitcases, Mingyu grunts at the weight of the one in his left hand before tilting his head in disbelief as Seungcheol takes out two more suitcases from the back of his SUV. 

“Uh… I don’t know. A couple weeks? Maybe longer. However long it takes to work through the paperwork and shit.” 

Mingyu had never met you, but he had heard plenty of stories about the infamous baby Choi. While Seungcheol had stayed home and learned the ropes from your father—eventually taking on the ranch—you had other plans. 

Leaving Montana in your rearview mirror, you headed for New York, went to school, got your law degree, and were on your way to making partner at one of the most elite practices in the city. Everything got put on hold with a single phone call from your brother asking you to come home, sorrow in his voice as he struggled through having to tell you the news both of you had been dreading for a while—your father had passed away. That had been a few months ago. You both had survived the funeral but now the hard stuff was keeping you both from moving on so you found yourself back.

“Put your back into it, Gyu. They can’t be that heavy. You throw hay daily, and now you’re whining over a suitcase?” 

Mocking Seungcheol’s teasing, Mingyu follows behind him with a grunt as he lifts your bags, making his way into the large main house where you already were. "Yeah, well, hay weighs less than this shi—” Feeling his words get caught in his throat as he moves into the living room, meeting your eyes for the first time, Mingyu swallows hard and watches as Seungcheol puts what he was carrying down before moving to pull you into a tight hug. God, you were pretty. Mingyu didn’t know what he had been expecting. He had seen pictures of you, of course, but that was different than being in the same damn room as you. 

“Hey, squirt. How was the flight?” 

As much as you weren’t looking forward to being home, the comfort of a tight hug from your big brother was just what the doctor had ordered. Burying your face against his jacket, you sigh softly before taking in a breath, letting the warmth of his embrace wash over you before you finally take a step back and shrug, meeting Seungcheol’s eyes and feeling another set lingering on you. “Exhausting. Not even business class could make a five-hour flight bearable.” Finally looking past your brother, when you hear a set of heavier bags hitting the hardwood floor, you lift your brow, meeting the eyes of the other man curiously. “That’s Louis Vuitton.” 

Unsure if you are speaking directly to him, Mingyu glances behind him before lifting his hand to touch his chest and shaking his head. “Nah, Kim Mingyu.” 

Scoffing under your breath, you hear your brother chuckle before he shakes his head and gestures back to the man who had just introduced himself. 

“As the idiot said, he’s Kim Mingyu. He’s smarter than he seems, I promise. He just isn’t used to all your fancy shit, Y/N.” 

Forcing yourself to not roll your eyes, you move past your brother and towards Mingyu, who visibly takes a deep breath watching you lean down to your luggage. “Clearly. It rolls, Kim Mingyu, and Louis Vuitton is the name of the brand that made this luggage.” Pushing on the button to extend the handle, you let out a soft sigh on your breath as you stand back to your full height in front of Mingyu, meeting his eyes once again. “Thanks for bringing it in. Are you, like, my brother’s bestie or something?” 

You didn’t fit in at all. If it wasn’t for some family resemblance, Mingyu wouldn’t even know that you and Seungcheol were siblings. For one, you were gorgeous, and Seungcheol was Seungcheol, and for two, you were saying shit that was going over Mingyu’s head, making him smile like an idiot. “Bestie? Uh… I mean sure. We’re close, but I work here, Miss Choi.” 

A smirk pulls at your lips when you hear your brother curse under his breath in disbelief; meanwhile, Mingyu has sparked your interest in several ways. “You do? What do you do?” 

Realizing you hadn’t corrected him, calling you Miss Choi, Mingyu swallows hard, his smile fading only slightly as he puts on a confident facade, not wanting to let you get the better of him. “Yeah, um—all kinds of things. I’m the ranch foreman so I’m in charge of all the other ranch hands. Make sure they do their jobs—” 

“So then what does Cheollie do?” 

“Alright, that’s enough. Gyu, the boys should be back from fixing that fence up on the ridge. Make sure Chan puts shit back where it belongs.” Seungcheol had seen this song and dance with you before with other ranch hands when you lived at home or when you would come home during the summer. You had broken a few hearts and got yours broken a few times in the process. You were too important, and what Seungcheol needed you home for was too necessary for you to be mixed up with someone who didn’t know what they were getting themselves into. 

“Yeah, sure. I’ll talk to you later.” Nodding his head towards Seungcheol, Mingyu smiles softly before meeting your eyes and nodding his head again politely. “Ma’am.” 

Waving as Mingyu closes the large wooden door, you laugh under your breath hearing Seungcheol let out another exasperated sigh. “What? He’s cute.” 

“Leave him alone. He’s busy and he’s not used to girls like you.” 

Feigning shock, you pull the heavy bag behind you as Seungcheol lifts two of your bags, heading down the hall towards your bedroom. “Girls like me? What the fuck does that mean, Choi Seungcheol?” 

Your bedroom was much like it had been before you had left for university. You had changed things here and there, giving it a more grown-up feel, and yet every time you were back here, it felt like you were a teenager again. Watching Seungcheol put your bags at the end of your large bed, you narrow your eyes at him as he shakes his head to your question, finally turning to meet your eyes. 

“I don’t mean it bad. You are just... a lot. You never plan on sticking around so you tend to fuck with their heads. Can’t we just—” Sighing, Seungcheol moves towards you, putting his hands on your biceps as he offers you a smile. “Let’s just focus on getting the paperwork all worked out. Get this will shit out of the way and you can get back to doing whatever it is that you do.” 

Whatever it is that you do. Nodding along with Seungcheol’s words, you sigh before returning his smile, only strained. This was another reason you hated coming home. Seungcheol and your father had never understood why you had left home and done something different. You weren’t a ranch girl. You had a brain and you wanted to do something with it. It felt like to you that they only appreciated it when they needed it—like now. 

“Sure, whatever, Cheol. I’ll get it figured out for you, then get back to whatever it is that I do.” 

Mingyu enjoyed early mornings on the ranch. In his opinion, Montana sunrises were the prettiest thing that anyone could experience; at least they had been until he had seen you. There were things to get done—a literal laundry list of tasks that he had set in front of him for the day and yet as Mingyu walked with one of the horses next to him on a lead rope, he could only stare at you behind his sunglasses as you sipped your coffee on the patio while the sun rose behind you. This was his new favorite thing. 

One thing you had missed about being home was the quiet. The city, especially New York City, was anything but quiet. Leaning back in the chair, you sigh happily, feeling the coffee warm you from the inside out as you just enjoy the gentle breeze and silence. 

There weren’t too many people on the ranch to be up at this time. You had always been an early bird, usually beating your father and Seungcheol by an hour every day, but it seemed that the ranch foreman had a similar schedule as you. Lifting your hand from your coffee, you smile behind the cup when you catch Mingyu staring at you. It’s so obvious that he thinks that his sunglasses are hiding where he is looking when he looks startled by your sudden attention, turning his head back towards the horse stumbling over seemingly nothing in front of him. “Jesus… he is cute.” 

Clearing his throat, Mingyu opens the gate, unhooking the rope from the horse and patting on her side, guiding her inside the fenced-in area. He could almost feel your eyes on him still. You were brighter than the sun that was slowly rising and he knew he was going to have a hard time keeping his distance despite what Seungcheol had told him. 

‘She’s not here for long, Mingyu. ‘Sides… that’s my little sister, so clearly… off limits.’ 

You didn’t look so much like somebody’s little sister and it would be rude of Mingyu to avoid you the entire time you were home. Turning back towards the house, he lifts his hand in turn, waving back at you and watching a pretty smile spread across your face. God, he was in trouble. “Mornin’, Miss Choi.” 

Crossing your legs from one side to the other as you get more comfortable in the chair, you tilt your head, setting your coffee on the side table beside you as Mingyu makes his way towards you, wiping his hands off on his jeans. The ranch foremen in the past had never looked like this. They had always been grumpy old men picked by your father for their ability to keep the other hands in line, but clearly your brother had other things in mind when he picked Kim Mingyu for the job, and you weren’t complaining. He had to be what Taylor Swift was writing about when she won Grammys, as he strutted up in his tight blue jeans and tucked in a white t-shirt. 

“Good morning. You get started early. Coffee?” Gesturing to the glass carafe on the tray. You watch as Mingyu’s brows furrow behind his glasses before he nods, leaning to pick it up and study it as if it’s a complex piece of technology he’s never seen before. 

“Uh, yeah, sure. You pour your coffee into another pot before you drink it? That’s some fancy shit.” 

Unable to stop yourself from laughing, you offer Mingyu one of the extra cups from the tray as you shake your head, sitting back in your chair. “No, what are you talking about? Have you never had pour-over coffee before, Mingyu?” 

“Pour-over coffee? Can’t say I have, ma’am. I’ve had drip, gas station, and diner. They’ve never done me wrong.” Bringing the cup to his lips as he carefully sets the delicate glass pot back on the tray, Mingyu makes a bit of a face at the taste of the coffee before tilting his head as he sits down near you. “None of it quite tasted like this, though.” 

He was cute and funny. You had woken up dreading the day, but so far the company and the sky as the sun rose just behind you were worth the trip. “Yeah? That means you like it?” 

“It ain’t half bad. It sure ain’t gonna keep me going—not strong enough for that, but it tastes good.” 

Ain’ts and gonnas. You had forgotten how people talked here. Shaking your head, you try to hide your smile by rubbing your lips together but it’s impossible as Mingyu takes another sip of his coffee, letting out a happy sigh. He was almost infectious to be around already. You could understand from just the few minutes of being around him why your brother liked him. “How long have you been working for, Cheol?” 

Oh, so you were going to get right down to it with the questions. Clearing his throat, Mingyu shifts on the chair, going from resting his elbows on his knees so that his back is bent in a curve to sitting up straight, his back against the chair like it was intended to be used. “Uh, well—roundabout three years. He and I met back in school; of course he graduated a couple years before me, but we kept in touch. Then when your dad—when Mr. Choi started to get sick... " Mingyu knew it was a touchy subject; he could see the way your lips turned down at the mention of your father. There was history there that he didn’t know about and that he might never understand, but it made him sad to see your light fade so quickly. “Um, I—yeah, that’s when your brother hired me on. He needed an extra hand.” 

Nodding along with Mingyu as he speaks, you pick up your own cup, taking a sip of coffee as he stumbles through his explanation. You knew why he was timid about it. Everyone was timid when they talked about your father. He had been a strong and resilient man. He had made you and Seungcheol who you both were today, and yet where your brother idolized him, you felt like a disappointment now more than ever. You hadn’t been at his bedside when he took his last breath; that had been Seungcheol. He was the filial son and you were the rebellious daughter. 

“I see. Well, I’m sure they both appreciated having you around. I mean, I’m sure Cheol still appreciates it.” Sighing against the lip of your cup, you furrow your brows, feeling Mingyu’s eyes moving over your face, studying you. “It’s a big ranch for one person to handle. Dad knew that all too well.” 

Mingyu found himself half wondering if you were skipping around what you really wanted to say or if you meant what you were saying, but in the end right now it didn’t matter. You looked sad and it made his chest hurt. “I—yeah. It’s a lotta work. Seungcheol’s got the smarts for it though and I’ve not got any plans on leaving him high and dry anytime soon. The other guys are good ones too. Promise they will help him keep it up.” Furrowing his brows as he watches you nod again, looking down at your coffee resting your arms on your legs, Mingyu considers his words before looking around for anyone else, then back to you. "But—look, I know it ain’t my place, and I don’t know you from Adam, but... if you ever just wanna talk about what’s going on, you know with everything from your side of it... my door’s always open to ya.” 

That was a dangerous thing to offer to someone you barely knew and yet it made your shoulders and brow relax as a smile pulled at your lips. “I must look really shitty for you to offer that, huh?” 

“Wha—no! You look beautifu—I mean, what? I just… You know I’m just—this ain’t comin’ out right.” Mingyu could feel his neck, face, and ears getting hotter; the more he tried to back petal the more words that came out of his mouth. Finally closing his eyes, hearing you laugh under your breath, he sighs and opens one eye slightly to watch you run your fingers along your neck as you shake your head, clearly amused with him. “Words ain’t really my strong point.” 

“That’s obvious, but it’s cute. I’ll think about it.” 

Leaning against the door frame leading out to the patio, Seungcheol narrows his eyes at what is in front of him. It isn’t even just that you and Mingyu are sitting there together sharing coffee; it’s the laughing and how you are talking to him. It was already too flirty for Seungcheol’s liking. Mingyu was a nice guy and gave off a certain vibe from the getgo no matter who he was talking to, but you put him in front of a pretty girl and it’s game over. Seungcheol knew you were pretty. The genes in his family were too good for you not to get attention and God had you over the years and it had caused him headache after headache. This was not a headache he wanted to deal with—not now. 

“What are we thinking about?”

Shifting suddenly to the sound of Seungcheol’s voice, Mingyu clears his throat, taking a bigger sip of the coffee as his eyes follow his best friend on to the patio. You had less of a reaction and looked more annoyed than anything, simply crossing your legs from one side to the other and then crossing your arm over your stomach as you shake your head and sip your coffee. 

“Nothing. Have some coffee, Cheol.” 

It was more than nothing; that was clear from your closed-up body language and Mingyu’s deer in the headlights routine, but Seungcheol wasn’t going to push it when his presence was enough to stop the conversation. “Don’t mind if I do.” Picking up one of the cups, Seungcheol makes a face at the coffee carafe and rolls his eyes as he pours himself a cup, glancing from his task to you and back. “Couldn’t just use a normal ass coffee maker?” 

“Didn’t want just normal ass gross coffee, so no. Why does it matter? I didn’t ask you to make it.” 

It had been a bit awkward just sitting and talking to you, but with both you and Seungcheol here... Mingyu couldn’t help the way his eyes went from one person to the other as you bickered over something as simple as the coffee. 

“Yeah, well… Coffee is coffee, squirt. Right, Gyu?” Scoffing under his breath when Mingyu shakes his head, refusing to take a side, Seungcheol finally takes a sip of the coffee and curses under his breath at how good it is, not willing to tell you out loud. “Whatever, we got shit to today. Need to get Jun and Soonyoung to separate the calves out and let Chan start deworming them.” 

God, you really were home. Making a face, hearing what your brother was asking Mingyu to do, you slip out of your seat, bringing your cup with you before offering to take Mingyu’s empty one. 

“Uh, yeah—oh, thanks, Miss Choi. I could’a got it; yours too in a few minutes.” 

Scoffing, you roll your eyes and sigh loudly, moving past Seungcheol as he smirks at your reaction. Finally, you were tired of the Miss Choi bullshit. 

“Just call me Y/N, and it seems like you all have plenty to do besides washing cups, Mingyu.” 

Your name was pretty and Mingyu couldn’t stop himself from grinning a bit to himself as he nodded along with your words. “I—yeah, busy day, it seems. Thanks, Y/N.” 

“Uh huh, don’t worry about it. Cheol? Is the paperwork in the study?” 

That was Mingyu’s cue to get up and get moving. He could see the look on his friend’s face change at the mention of the paperwork and he didn’t really want to be present for this conversation. Offering you both a quick nod, he glances back towards you one last time before making his way back down towards the barns, leaving you and Seungcheol alone. 

Sighing under the sound of the water running, Seungcheol looks down at the cup in his hands for a few seconds before pushing up from the chair he had sat down on to move into the kitchen with you. He hadn’t forgotten why you were home, but it still didn’t make it any easier. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to get through this process. He knew how it was going to end so to speak, but the end meant his father really was gone and never coming home. He had watched his father take his last breath and he had shed many a tear, but it still never really felt real. Not as real as knowing his name was on all of those papers saying all this responsibility was his now. “Yeah, all in a folder on the desk. I didn’t mess with it after Dad’s attorney handed it off to give it to you. I don’t know what any of it means anyway. You know I’m not the brains.” 

Putting both cups into the dish-drying rack, you listen to Seungcheol moving behind you around the island. You knew he was apprehensive about this part of the process and you also knew that perhaps you should be, but you felt that there was nothing for you inside of that folder anyway. You weren’t the golden child. You were the disappointment. You were doing this for your brother and that was why you would put on a professional face and help him through it. “Why you got me then, huh? I’ll take care of the hard stuff and you can play with the cows and horses.” 

Seungcheol knew that tone of voice and yet he didn’t want to say anything that might scare you away, so instead he just nodded along, offering you a smile as he scratched the back of his head. “Ye—yeah you’re right. I’ll get outta your hair. Gotta help Mingyu and the boys anyway. If you need me for anything, just call my cell, alright?”

Pulling your cardigan around you a bit tighter, you mimic Seungcheol’s smile before nodding in return and watching him head for the patio door, leaving you alone in the house. It had been a long time since you had been inside your childhood home alone.

When you were a kid, you loved this house. It was a sense of pride. You got to live in a big house with your parents and your big brother. There were always animals inside and outside of the house, but then your mother left and you grew up. By the time you were a teenager, the relationship between you and your father was strained. You knew it wasn’t his fault that your mother had chosen to leave, especially when she decided that none of you were worth her time anymore, but you still blamed him. It was easier than blaming her. You reminded him of her. You reminded everyone of her. That was why Seungcheol’s words cut you so deep, even if you pretended that they hadn’t. 

Moving through the house, you look over the pictures on the mantle and sigh to yourself, realizing that it is your fault that the last family portrait was from before you had left for university. Your father had begged you to take one after your graduation, but you had refused—looking back on it now, you could remember the disappointment in his face. 

It was easier for you to refuse and lash out at him or at Seungcheol when you looked back and remembered being told you were wasting your time and energy on going to the city—your family needed you here. What about what you needed? The thought makes your chest feel tight as you clutch your cardigan a bit harder in your hand at your heart, tearing your eyes away from your father’s face in the portrait and feeling them follow you towards the hall. 

The inside of your father’s study—Seungcheol’s study—was just as it had always been. Dark wood, rich leather, and books lining numerous bookshelves and end tables around the room, not to mention the large desk in front of the window. The desk—your father’s desk—looked the same that it always had with papers covering it, pens not put back in the organizer right in front of where they lay, but the main difference was the large dark brown legal envelope in the center. 

You had a good idea of what all was inside that envelope. This wouldn’t be the first time that you had assisted someone in the estate administration process, but this was the first time you were doing it for your family. You had told yourself it would be easy. Inside that envelope you’d find the will, a few debts that would possibly need to be settled, possibly medical in nature—that was common—and then all the deeds and paperwork that had been collected for everything that your father had. It should be simple. Seungcheol’s name should already be listed as co-owner or signer of 90% of the paperwork and he would be named the executor, giving him assets and ownership of the rest. All you would need to do was make sure the I’s were dotted and the T’s were crossed. 

Sliding into the leather chair behind the desk, you tense up to the feeling—how small you feel in your father’s chair and behind his desk—before trying to push that away and reach for the envelope, undoing the string keeping it tightly closed. This would be easier if you put away your personal feelings and regrets, allowing you to focus on what was in front of you. That would be how you could get this done quickly and get back to your own life—whatever it is that you do. 

The air felt thicker around you as you cleared off a place on the desk before carefully removing the paperwork from the envelope and laying it in a neat stack in front of you. The top was just a letter from your father’s attorney—nothing unexpected, a sympathy note really and nothing more, but it was what was next that made you feel like the walls were closing in around you. 

I hereby nominate, constitute, and appoint Choi Y/N as executor of my will and estate. 

It would be fine. A bit more work than you had anticipated. You would have to stay for a bit longer than you thought, but—

I bequeath unto the persons named below, if he or she survives me by 30 (thirty) days, all of my property, assets, and belongings: 

Name:Choi Seungcheol 

Relationship: Son  

Name: Choi Y/N

Relationship: Daughter

Attempting to take a deep breath, you fail as your eyes continue to scan your father’s will, feeling your heart in your throat. 

Special Requests 

I direct that on my death my remains shall be cremated and all cremation expenses shall be paid out of my estate. Any and all debts shall be paid out of my estate. Any and all other property, real estate, assets, and belongings will be owned and split equally by my children as my executor sees fit. 

Placing the will back on top of the stack of papers, you rest your head in your hands, feeling anxiety pulsing from your head to your toes. He put everything on you and while Seungcheol was in fact getting everything, so were you. This wasn’t as easy as handing your brother the keys to the palace, so to speak, and taking your small percentage; this would take cooperation and time to sort through. 

“Oh fuck—” One last cruel joke from your father, or at least that’s how it felt at the moment as you lean your head back, glancing towards the bar cart under the window facing out towards the back of the ranch. 

You needed a drink; it wasn’t even 9 am and you were already on your feet, pouring yourself a glass of your father’s 30-year-old whiskey that you had never been allowed to touch. Letting out a breath into the glass, you look out at Seungcheol leaning over the gate as he talks to the ranch hands as they work calves through the cattle chute one at a time. It was almost amusing now, feeling the warm liquor coating your throat as you thought back to the papers that changed your life and his, as he went about his day with no idea as to what you had just found out. 

Glancing towards the house, Mingyu furrows his brows, hearing Seungcheol raise his voice for probably the fifth time in the last half hour. It had just started to get dark and they were making their way through the last of the chores for the day when the fussing had started. 

This wasn’t something that he or the other boys on the ranch were used to. Every once in a while, Seungcheol and his dad would get into a bit of a quarrel but nothing like this. This sounded personal and there had been a couple of times when your voice had reached a peak that Mingyu wondered if he should intervene, only to get a sharp look from Jun reminding him that this was family business and as much as they might all feel like it, none of them were really family. 

“Yeah? Well, fuck you, Y/N. I’ll do what I want. This is bullshit…” 

Leaning his head down towards the gate as he pushes it closed, Mingyu sighs loudly, looking towards the house again, knowing this time he wasn’t the only one doing it. Seungcheol was on the patio now, a cigarette between his lips as he muttered under his breath, his brows knitted together tightly. For as long as Mingyu had known Seungcheol, he rarely smoked. This had to be bad if he was stressed enough to pull out a new pack of cigarettes and start pacing. 

“Maybe I shou—” 

“Should what? Get yelled at because you stick your nose in some shit that don’t concern any of us?” While his words were sharp, Jun’s eyes said something else. He was concerned and he didn’t want Mingyu’s big heart to cause him to be the punching bag. “If Cheol wants to talk to us about it, he’ll find us. Come on, it’s time for dinner anyhow and you said you’d cook.” 

That brought a bit of a smile to Mingyu’s face, but one more look back towards the house and seeing you standing in the window of the living room wiping tears from your cheeks made his feet feel like they were stuck in concrete. 

“Gyu! Come on! Move your ass.” 

God what Mingyu would do to fix this. He wasn’t even sure how or what was the real problem, but he hated this. Hanging his hat up next to the door in the house that the three ranch hands called their temporary home, Mingyu lets out a breath he hadn’t even realized he had been holding when the door shuts behind him. He had spent many a summer inside this house with other ranch hands; there were plenty of fond and less than fond memories hidden in the walls. 

“What you think they’re bitchin’ ‘bout anyways? I don’t think I’ve seen Cheol that wound up in a while.” 

Sitting down at the table in the middle of the room, Soonyoung yawns into his words, starting to put his feet up on the table when Jun pushes them back into the floor, pulling the chair out next to him to sit down, his eyes following Mingyu as he opens the fridge. “None of our business, but seeing as how it involves his sister... I’d say it’s ‘bout Mr. Choi’s stuff. Just going out on a limb.” 

Wasn’t much of a limb to go out on now that Mingyu thought about it; Jun was probably right. Furrowing his brow tightly in thought, Mingyu uses the toe of his shoe to open the cabinet next to the fridge. Putting the ingredients in his hands down on the countertop, he leans to take out the pots and pans he would need for dinner as he listens to the boys talk behind him. 

“She’s pretty enough, and I mean damn pretty, but Seungcheol didn’t need more headache.” Lifting his hands from the table, Chan tries to keep the peace, seeing the looks from not only Jun and Soonyoung but also the sudden glance over the shoulder from Mingyu. “No, wait—hear me out, alright. The old man was always saying something or another about how Y/N wasn’t doing this or that—she wouldn’t come home for Thanksgiving or he was having to pay for tuition again—” 

“And? He was proud as fuck that she graduated from that school, Chan, and you know it. He wouldn’t stop telling everybody who’d listen that his daughter was a fancy lawyer now.” Scoffing as he drops the hamburger meat into the bottom of the pot, Mingyu clicks his tongue against his teeth, trying to keep himself from getting too riled up in your defense. There was no reason for him to feel so protective of you and yet he couldn’t help it. He had seen that look in your eye this morning and then again at the window. “Jun’s right, ain’t none of this our fuckin’ business.” 

You had expected Seungcheol to react poorly to your father’s will, but you hadn’t expected him to explode the way he had. The look on his face was almost one of betrayal when he read the words on the page before tossing it down on the desk, muttering that it was bullshit over and over again before finally meeting your eyes. 

“Look… Cheol, I know it’s not ideal—” 

“The fuck, like you know a damn thing, Y/N. You think you know everything. That’s your fuckin’ problem.” 

You had started to follow your brother out of the room, but his words had frozen you in place momentarily. It had been a long time since he had spoken to you like this. You were used to the Seungcheol that had greeted you the day prior. You were used to fake pleasantries and brief moments of time when you wished that it could be a real relationship between the two of you—but this was real. 

“That’s not fair.” Shaking your head, your voice quiet at first, you push your hands off the desk and manage to follow behind Seungcheol, speaking louder this time. “That’s not fucking fair, Seungcheol! You don’t get to—” 

“Fuck off. No, seriously, Y/N. Fuck you!” Seungcheol could see how you recoiled at his words; deep down he knew that you were right; he wasn’t being fair, but all he could truly see was red, and all he could feel right now was pain. “You didn’t do anything to help him. You didn’t even give a shit when he got sick. You didn’t come home or even call! It’s not about what he’s—fuck!” Punching the wall next to him, Seungcheol closes his eyes to keep back his tears even as he hears you yelp in surprise before he continues. “You weren’t even fucking here when he died, Y/N. You are that goddamn selfish, and you still get everything you want.” 

Swallowing hard, you blink through your tears as you bite on your lips, listening to Seungcheol even though you want to scream at him and tell him to stop. Even though there was truth to what he was saying, there was so much more that he didn’t know or understand. Taking a step closer to him, you hold your cardigan tightly in your fist against your chest before gathering your courage to speak up. “Ples—Cheol, please stop. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t tell him to write it out like that. It’s not like I didn’t want to be here when he—” 

Not letting you finish what you were going to say once again, Seungcheol slaps the wall next to where his fist had made contact, watching you jump in place. “No. You don’t get to cry and give me that look, then expect me to just believe whatever bullshit comes out of your mouth.” 

Whining, you move closer to Seungcheol, getting frustrated when he turns his back to you, walking towards the kitchen, opening the cabinet to take out a new pack of cigarettes. “You gotta be kidding me! Don’t smoke, Cheol. You said you stopped. This isn’t worth that.” 

Scoffing under his breath as he angrily pulls the plastic from around the outside of the cigarettes, Seungcheol rolls his eyes at you, barely giving you a second glance as he pulls open the patio door, his voice full of malice. “Yeah? Well, fuck you, Y/N. I’ll do what I want. This is bullshit…” 

It had been over a year since Seungcheol had smoked a cigarette and he really hadn’t had any intention of ever picking another one up, but then you had walked right back into his life and set it on fire so what was a little lung damage compared to that? He hated this part of his and your relationship. He was supposed to be your big brother, your protector. You were supposed to be his sweet little sister who looked to him for everything, and yet none of that was true for either of you. 

Looking out over the fields and towards the smaller house just a stone's throw from the main house, Seungcheol sighs, letting out a deep breath of smoke from his lungs, watching Mingyu take up the rear as the rest of the ranch hands head in for the evening. How much had they heard? It wasn’t like he had been subtle; hell, neither had you, but still, Seungcheol hated the idea that the boys might think differently of him because of this. 

You felt like your heart was trying to beat out of your chest with every deep breath you took in an attempt to calm yourself down as you stood in front of the large window overlooking the back of the house. It had been a long time since anyone had made you feel as shitty as you did in that moment. Seungcheol had managed to tear you down completely when he was supposed to be the one protecting you. Still, you knew that this wasn’t him—not really. He was angry and hurt, and you were the punching bag. You were just tired of being the punching bag. 

Wiping the tears from your face, you look away when Mingyu’s eye catches yours as he follows behind the rest of the ranch hands. God, this was devastating. Not only had you had one of the most brutal fights with your brother in your entire life, but now you were crying like a baby for Mingyu to see. It shouldn’t matter. 

You didn’t matter to him or anyone here. That was obvious. It didn’t matter how much things had changed or what had been said between yourself and your father; you had never meant for any of this to happen. Would any of this be worth it if it lost you what you had left of your family in the end? 

Mingyu was usually the first person to wake up on the ranch, and he was usually the last to head to bed. He never minded it, and there was usually something that needed to be done that someone had forgotten to do. Tonight wasn’t the exception. 

Sighing as he wraps the rope around his hand to his elbow, Mingyu rocks his head from left to right, trying to release some of the tension from his neck. It had been a long day, and not even the quiet peeps from the frogs in the creek nor the bright stars in the sky were keeping his mind from what he had heard earlier in the night. 

“Knew I’d find you here…” 

The sudden sound of Seungcheol’s voice is almost enough to cause Mingyu to drop the rope from his grasp. Turning around from the barn door to look at the other man, he moves through the smaller mudroom entrance closer to the main house. “I—yeah, well.” Lifting the lead rope on his arm, Mingyu laughs under his breath before gesturing with his head down at the gear that Chan had forgotten to put up after riding out to check on the cattle further out on the property. “He means well; he just gets lost in his head.” 

Picking up the bit and headstall that had been used, Seungcheol smiles, moving to put them away as he nods. “It’s alright. I—listen. I wanted to talk about earlier.” 

The night air was alright, a bit warm, but with Seungcheol’s words, Mingyu felt it get thick and muggy with his nerves. “Oh? Earlier? Like the calves?” 

Seungcheol knew that Mingyu would pretend like he hadn’t heard the argument, and while he appreciated the act of normalcy, he also didn’t need that as much as he needed to talk to his friend. “No, and you know it. I’m sorry ‘bout all the yellin’ that you and the boys heard. Just—it’s just some shit—fuck... I know you aren’t involved in this, but, Gyu, I’m drownin’.” 

Swallowing hard at Seungcheol’s words, his confession on how he feels, Mingyu’s lips turn down as he hears his best friend’s voice shake. Seungcheol had always been strong. He had been raised by a tough-as-nails man, and he was a mirror image, but right now he was more fragile than Mingyu had ever seen him. “Hey, Cheol… Man, I’m here. I’ll listen; don’t matter if I’m involved or not.” 

Mingyu watches as Seungcheol moves to lean against the workbench, his hands wringing together out of nerves as he tries to keep his emotions at bay. He had known Seungcheol long enough to know when he was holding back, and despite telling Mingyu that he needed help, he was still having a hard time going through with it. “Ju—just start from the beginnin’, maybe?” 

And so Seungcheol did—from the point when his father had first gotten sick to the argument that everyone had heard bits and pieces of. Though it was just from his side, Seungcheol felt like he was being fair and thorough, explaining how you had, in his eyes, abandoned him and your father to do something so meaningless. Lowering his head, Mingyu nods along, only offering small encouraging words to keep Seungcheol moving along with his words, but he never adds his own opinion, just an open mind and a friendly ear. It’s only when things are quiet for a good minute that he sighs, lifting his hand to wipe at his mouth, trying to formulate his words in the right way and order. 

“Can I play devil’s advocate and you not rip my head off?” 

Scoffing at Mingyu’s words, Seungcheol lifts his hands for him to continue, willing to hear anything. You weren’t talking to him now, not that Seungcheol was sure he wanted to talk to you. There was just a lot of doors slamming and remembering what it was like when you were a teenager at home. 

It was clear that Seungcheol wanted one thing, but Mingyu wasn’t just his friend. There were friends who would tell you exactly what you wanted to hear and stroke your ego, and then there were the ones who would take a bullet for you. Those friends were there to stay and it didn’t matter if they agreed with every single word you said or every thought in your head—they were family. 

“Hear her out. Don’t sound like you did much of that.” Hearing Seungcheol take a sharp breath out of anger, Mingyu tilts his head and lifts his own hands, showing he doesn’t want to fight. “You were both raised strong-willed. You and your dad wanted her back here; now she’s here. She’s clearly smart as hell if she understand the words on that paperwork and I swear, Cheol…” Not meeting Seungcheol’s eyes this time, Mingyu scoffs under his breath into his words. “I just don’t think she’s here to fuck with you over this. You’ve whined for months… hell, years about wanting her home and she’s here. Don’t push her out the damn door on day two.” 

Taking a deep breath, Seungcheol looks away from Mingyu completely and towards the house through the open door, seeing the lights still on. You hadn’t told him what you were doing, but you had slammed your bedroom door after seeing him in the hall about an hour ago, so he had figured you were going to bed. While he didn’t agree with what Mingyu was saying, and you had pissed him off in more ways than one, Seungcheol also didn’t want this to ruin what little relationship the two of you had left. “Yeah, I—shit, I know. Just fuckin’ sucks, man. She just—she gets under my skin and just knows—” 

The look on Mingyu’s face was enough to get Seungcheol to take another breath and to stop himself from continuing. He was doing it again. He could feel the pressure rising in his chest and his fists were tight at his sides. “Sorry. Sorry, I don’t know why she pisses me off so much.” Laughing on a breath out, he shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair. “Nah, you know what, I do. She’s this perfect little princess who hasn’t had to work a hard day in her goddamn life. Dad gave her whatever she wanted when he was here and he’s still doing it. She’s never respected him as much as I have.” 

“That’s how you see it, Cheol.” Mingyu knew it was bold to speak up when Seungcheol looked like he wanted to put his fist through something and that something might end up being him, but he was spiraling again. “Listen, your dad and I talked some when you weren’t around, right? He talked a lot about you both. ‘Bout how proud he was of both of y’all. Proud of you and proud of Y/N.” 

Mingyu waits for Seungcheol’s brows to soften before he continues, reaching over to pat his shoulder, a smile pulling at his lips. “Said you were a hell of a good man, and you are. Knew you’d take care of this ranch. But he talked a lot ‘bout her too. ‘Bout all the shit she was doing and how she was so smart and how he knew she didn’t get it from him or some shit like that. Just sayin’ cut her some slack?” 

Swallowing hard, Seungcheol pushes his thumb against his palm as his brows knit together listening to what Mingyu has to say. He wasn’t wrong. He had heard his father say much of the same, even if he didn’t want to remember it. His father had gotten more sentimental near the end, talking about you and him more—about the good times, when you both were young. He’d bring up childhood memories and then suddenly talk about your college graduation and how much pride he had that day. Seungcheol had that pride too. You looked like a million bucks walking across that stage with all those fancy honor cords draped around your neck. 

“Yeah—yeah, you’re right, Gyu. He wouldn’t want me acting like this. He’d be pissed off at me for—” Groaning under his breath, feeling pressure behind his eyes as his father floods his memories, Seungcheol can almost hear his voice in his head. It’s almost too much and the tears sit right on the rims of his eyes as he leans his head back to stop them from falling. “He’d hate that I made her cry so fuckin’ much today. I—I’ll fix it.” 

Staring at your bedroom door, you bite at your thumbnail, dreading the idea of going out of the safety of your room and into the house where Seungcheol might be. You knew you were being childish, but you were still angry with him, and your head and chest hurt just remembering him screaming at you the day before. It wasn’t like you blamed him completely. You had yelled back a few times, but nothing like he had. It was serious for him and you were just defending yourself—Seungcheol had gone for blood and struck gold. 

The house seemed quiet. Seungcheol’s door was open, his bed was made, but you could smell food drawing you closer towards the kitchen. Bracing yourself to see your brother, you wince then stop in your tracks when you see someone else at the stove, his back to you. “Mingyu? Wh—what are you doing in here?” 

Mingyu had hoped to have food done and ready for you to eat by the time you woke up, but you had beaten him to the punch. Letting out a soft, surprised sound under his breath, he glances at you over his shoulder, noticing how you wrap your cardigan around you a bit tighter. It was the same one you had on yesterday—must be your favorite. Turning his attention back to the pan in front of him, he sighs into his words, carefully turning the omelette, making sure he doesn’t break the surface of the eggs. “Uh, Cheol—Cheol went into town this mornin’, and he asked if I might make you somethin’ to eat. He wanted to make sure you had somethin’ more than coffee and a protein bar.” 

Scoffing under your breath, you move towards the island, pulling out one of the barstools and sitting with a huff. “Like he cares…” The moment the words leave your lips, you feel bad for saying them. Mingyu’s brows knit together slightly and you shake your head, muttering an apology as you pick at your cardigan sleeve, seeing him move out of the corner of your eye. 

“Don’t gotta apologize to me. Hell, you ain’t even gotta apologize to him. Truth is he knows he fucked up. We talked about it last night.” Taking a plate from the cabinet, Mingyu turns towards the island, giving you a once-over before he slides the omelette onto the plate and pushes it towards you. “Eat up. You want coffee or juice. ‘Fraid I don’t know how to make your fancy coffee.” 

You can’t stop the way your lips pull up at the corners when Mingyu turns back towards the stove, cracking a couple more eggs into the pan. The gentle sizzle makes you feel warmer, just like his voice, as you pick up the fork left next to your plate and examine the food in front of you. “Juice is fine, but what do you mean, you and Cheol talked about it last night? You two talked about our—” Unsure how to phrase your next words, you stop short and furrow your brows, causing Mingyu to glance back at you and nod. 

“Your squabble, yeah.” Leaving the spatula in the pan, Mingyu opens the fridge, taking out the pitcher of orange juice as he feels your eyes following him every step of the way. “Know it’s not much my business, but I think Cheol was lookin’ for an outside perspective. He just—well, you know how he is. He gets caught up on the bigger picture and doesn’t stop to think about what he’s sayin’ and how it sounds.” Meeting your eyes as he tips the pitcher towards the glass in front of your plate, Mingyu watches how your lips turn down in a frown. He hates that look on your face. You’re too damn pretty to be so sad and tense. All he can think about is how much he wants to fix it. 

“And yet he couldn’t say any of this to me himself.” 

Tilting his head once your glass is almost full of juice, Mingyu smirks a bit to himself and your words before turning back towards the stove and his eggs. “My fault, I suppose. Told him to let you cool off. Figured you could use a moment without seeing each other after some of the shit I heard ya’ll yelling back and forth at each other yesterday.” 

You watch as Mingyu cuts the stove off and picks up a fork, turning to lean against the countertop as he eats the eggs he’s cooked straight out of the pan. It was so different from what he had made you and how he had presented it to you. Shaking your head, you cut off another bite of your omelette, sighing as you chew, your eyes meeting Mingyu’s even as he gives you that stupidly attractive half smirk while eating his eggs. “Yeah, whatever. Probably for the best, you’re right. I have so much to do today anyway and I’d rather not fight with Seungcheol. Makes me feel sick to my stomach.” 

Mingyu nods, taking the last bite of his food before wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “Mmhm, what all you gotta do? Anything me or the boys can help with to ease your mind?” 

Smiling, you shake your head, pushing around the last bits of your food as Mingyu works to clean up, splitting his attention with you and the task in front of him. He was almost too good to be true, but your brother’s words echo in your mind. ‘Leave him alone; he isn’t used to girls like you.’ You clear your throat then swallow hard. “Uh… Nope. I’ll be just fine on my own. What I’m used to.” Pushing your plate towards Mingyu, you fake your smile this time and sigh into your words as you slide off the stool. “Thanks for the breakfast, Mingyu.” 

Feeling the shift in your mood, Mingyu just nods, taking your plate as he watches you move back through the house towards your bedroom and hearing your door shut. Had he said something wrong? Did you not like the breakfast? You were an enigma that he just couldn’t solve and it was driving him insane. One minute you were smiling, almost flirting with him and the next you were giving him the cold shoulder. “Don’t make a lick of sense…” 

It was only 9am and Seungcheol was already exhausted from running the errands that Mingyu had given him. Sighing loudly, he moves through the living room, dropping the shopping bags on the couch before making his way into the kitchen, hearing Mingyu muttering to himself. “The hell you mumblin’ to yourself about?” You weren’t there and there wasn’t any breakfast left; maybe you hadn’t been up yet, or maybe you had already come and gone. Seungcheol hoped for the latter. Glancing back towards the hallway and your room, he furrows his brows and huffs out a breath before looking back towards Mingyu. “Is—did Y/N eat somethin’?” 

Tossing the towel he had been using to dry the dishes over his shoulder, Mingyu leans against the island and nods a few times, looking in the direction of your room. “Nothin’ important. And she did. Made her an omelette. She ate most of it and said she had stuff to do. She wasn’t much for talkin’. I—you think she’s—maybe she just don’t like me much?” 

Seungcheol knew that wasn’t the case. If anything, you probably liked Mingyu too much, or at least you liked looking at him too much, but that wasn’t any of his business. Shaking his head, he rolls his eyes and shrugs. “She don’t like much of nothin’ round here, Gyu. What I’ve been tellin’ you. Don’t get attached. I’m gonna smooth things over, but you know she ain’t stayin’ anyhow. She’s got her job back east and she’s too good for us and this place.” 

Maybe Seungcheol was right. Hell, Mingyu knew he was. You were way too good for him. You talked nice and used words he didn’t understand. You drank fancy things and probably ate even better things. You had expensive clothes and bags—you didn’t want some man covered in mud to cheapen your brand. “Yeah—yeah, maybe you’re right. I’mma get outside and get the boys started on shit. Yoller if you need me.” 

“It’s an inventory of assets and property, Seungcheol. I’m not calling you or Daddy a liar. I don’t know why you’d even—”  Sighing, you close your eyes, feeling your blood pressure rising as you tighten your hands around the iPad in your hands. Things had been going better. Seungcheol had apologized for being an asshole and you had done the same, but then you had started trying to check off one thing from your to-do list and he saw red. 

“I’m not callin’ you a fuckin’ liar, Y/N! Why do you always jump to conclusions? I’m just askin’ why you gotta go through all of his shit! It’s—Sis! I don’t want anyone moving it around. Not even you! I ain’t ready!” 

You could see the panic dripping off of your brother as he paced in the middle of your father’s office, his voice an octave higher than usual. The veins in his neck were visible and you could almost see his heartbeat through them with each step he took. All you had done was take the items from your father’s desk and organize them into piles so you could inventory them properly, and Seungcheol had begun to spiral. 

“Cheollie… You gotta calm down.” Reaching out to take his hand in yours, you feel him start to jerk away before he meets your eyes, seeing the compassion you have for him in your gaze. “Please? Come on… I won’t move anything else. I’ll inventory it without touching it, I swear. But you gotta—Cheollie, look at me.” When Seungcheol’s eyes dart away from you and back to the piles of papers and supplies on the floor, you hold your iPad under your arm and use your free hand to turn his face back towards you to keep his attention. “You gotta trust me.” 

Seungcheol swallows hard, feeling his heartbeats in every inch of his body as the panic attack that had started to take over him begins to subside with your help. He watches you take a deep breath and mimics you, earning a smile from you at his effort. Anxiety had always been a difficult topic for Seungcheol, but the day that your mother had left was the day that he had experienced his first full-blown panic attack. There was little that could calm him down—medicine, therapy, smoking. None of his vices helped as much as watching you take a deep breath and following along. That was why it hurt so much when you left him. You had taken away his safety net, though Seungcheol doubted you knew that. 

“There you go. Better?” 

Nodding, Seungcheol closes his eyes and leans against your palm, willing his tears back. He had missed you so much but he wasn’t willing to tell you that or to beg you not to leave home again. He had spent so much time pushing you away in order to make it easier to live without you for his sake and for your father’s sake. Having you home now was a temptation of something Seungcheol knew he could never have. His family died with his father. You were temporary and in passing. A brief moment of comfort, but in this exact moment Seungcheol wished he hated you more because as you moved to hug him, his heart ached. 

“Good. I love you, Cheollie, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

Keeping you close so that you can’t see the tears on his cheeks, Seungcheol sighs softly and shakes his head. “It’s alright, Squirt. I love you too. I’m sorry I got so worked up. I gotta back off and let you get this shit done.” 

It had been a week since you had started going through the paperwork for your father’s estate. Most of the inventory of property had been completed within the main house and you had been able to speed your way through the smaller barns within a day. It was today that you found yourself standing in front of the main barn and one of the largest tasks on your list. 

Sighing to yourself, you whine under your breath and wrinkle your nose at the smell of manure. You knew that inside of this barn there were several stalls where your father—now Seungcheol—kept horses. You remembered a time when you were younger when you loved coming to this particular barn and to your own horse, but those days were long gone. 

Sidestepping a pile of manure, you grimace and push your sunglasses up your nose before pushing open one of the smaller doors to the barn, getting hit with a strong scent of hay and horse. You were thankful that this was your father’s ranch. This barn in particular was temperature controlled, so unlike the heat that was assaulting you outside, you feel relief even as chill bumps spread along your skin from the change in temperature. 

Just like the inside of the house, not much had changed in the barn either. Seungcheol was afraid of change and you could see where things that your father had hung during your childhood remained to this day. If you were honest, there were things that could use updates, if anything repairs, but after the conversation the two of you had just days before, you weren’t in any rush to have it again. 

Mingyu had sent off the rest of the boys to do various things around the property. Jun was repairing a fence with Chan out by the road while Soonyoung was working with a stallion that had been delivered earlier in the morning. For him it had been a quiet day and that was rare. Seungcheol was taking care of things on the business side and that left normal chores for him. Mingyu never minded the mundane tasks. They gave him time to think and get lost in those thoughts. He hadn’t noticed you were in the barn until he heard muttering to yourself, looking around and then down at your iPad in your hands. Clearly you didn’t realize he was there; you were lost in your own thoughts. 

For a few minutes, Mingyu just watched you with a small smile on his face. You were beautiful, and when you were concentrating, you got this cute little scowl on your face. Mingyu could remember your father doing the same thing—muttering to himself and scowling; Seungcheol did it too. When the sound of the horse that Mingyu's brushing blows out its breath makes you look in his direction, he lowers his eyes and grins to himself. “Didn’t wanna bother you. You looked awful interested in whatever it is you’re lookin’ at.” 

Heat spreads across your cheeks as you clear your throat, realizing you hadn’t been alone in the barn. Mingyu had been so quiet. You had thought that everyone was gone, at least somewhere else on the ranch, but clearly you had been wrong. “Sorry, I just—I’m working on stuff for the estate. I’m not trying to be in your way.” 

“Ain’t in my way. Just cleanin’ stalls and takin’ care of the girls.” Glancing around the barn and then back to you, Mingyu smirks a bit to himself as he runs the brush along the side of the horse. “What sorta stuff you gotta do in here? If you don’t mind me askin’?” 

Laughing under your breath moving closer to Mingyu, you lift one hand to run your fingers along the horse’s forehead and down her muzzle as she nudges towards you. “Uh, just like an inventory of the estate and the barns is part of it. I have to make, like, a basic outline for the bank and their attorneys so that they can sign off on it all.” 

Mingyu nods along, even if most of what you’re saying goes over his head. It wasn’t so much that the words didn’t make sense, but the reasoning behind it was beyond him. “Uh huh, sure. Lotta red tape they are making you and Cheol jump through for something your dad already left y’all.” 

He wasn’t wrong, but you were used to this. You had done this for others, so doing it for yourself—for your family—wasn’t anything new. “Yeah, they like to, uh—when there is a certain amount of money or property involved, the bank likes to “hold on to it” for as long as they can. Make sure their investment is passed to heirs properly.” Rolling your eyes, you scratch the horse's muzzle once more before meeting Mingyu’s eyes and shrugging. “Not that it’s even theirs now. They just like to pretend for a little bit. I’ll get all this to them by the end of the week, hopefully, and it’ll be settled.” 

It was nice seeing you like this. You seemed more relaxed than the last time that Mingyu had seen you and you weren’t actively avoiding him. Glancing around the barn with you, he grins to himself, stepping away from the horse and heading towards you with his cleaning supplies in hand. “‘Scuse me. I don’t wanna get any of this mess on you. You need to take note of these too?” 

Stepping back out of Mingyu’s way, you shake your head at his antics as he leans his broom against the wall before leaning back into the stall to grab the rest of his stuff. “I mean—yeah, I have to take note of it all no matter how insignificant it might seem.” 

“Well, this here is a manure fork and that’s a broom…” 

“I know what they are, Mingyu. I’m not stupid.” 

Furrowing your brows, you meet Mingyu’s eyes as he opens his mouth in surprise at your accusation. Lifting his hands, he laughs and shakes his head before reaching back in the stall one more time for his bucket of brushes. “Hey now… I never said that. Don’t be puttin’ words in my mouth, missy. I just figured you wouldn’t know what they were based on how you’re a city gal and all. I’m tryin’ to be helpful.” 

Before you even realize what look you are giving him, Mingyu laughs again seeing the contempt in your eyes. “What? Why you lookin’ at me like that? Like I kicked your puppy. You ain’t even got one, do ya?” 

“No… But you are digging yourself a hole, Kim Mingyu. Are you forgetting that I literally grew up here?” Gesturing to the ground you are standing on, you lift your brows, trying to get your point across. “On this ranch. My daddy was your boss and now my brother. Who the hell do you think I am?” 

He knew you were trying to sound mad and that maybe he should back off, not get his fingers bit, but you were just too cute. “A damn spitfire is what you are. Hell, woman… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring out the claws, but can’t lie and say I didn’t like it a little bit.” Winking at you as he moves into the next stall, Mingyu puts down the bucket and pats the horse's side as she stomps the ground clearly aggravated with the tension. “Shh, everything’s fine, Lucy. That’s a good girl.”

You were frustrated, but as you kept your eyes on Mingyu and listened to him with the horse, you felt yourself starting to calm down. Your blood had stopped boiling and you had to remind yourself that you were the one in the family who was better at controlling their emotions. “You’re nicer to the horse than you are to me.” 

Having moved the rest of his supplies into the stall, Mingyu smirks at your accusation, lifting his head to meet your eyes for a moment before picking up the manure fork getting to work. “Yeah? I don’t think that’s true. I think I’m pretty nice in general. Don’t you agree, Luce?” Feeling the horse knock into him, Mingyu glances up towards her and laughs under his breath. “Don’t go takin’ her side just ‘cause she’s pretty, now. Thought you was my girl?” 

You had to admit Mingyu was adorable as he talked to Lucy and worked. Leaning your arms on the stall door, you rest your chin on your arm and smile at the interaction, finding it and him endearing. “I’m pretty, but Lucy the horse is your girl?” Keeping your iPad in one hand, you reach out, letting Lucy nuzzle against your free hand as Mingyu stands to his full height with a laughing sigh. 

“Is that judgment I hear in your voice, Miss Choi? Two things can be true at the same time.” Lifting his hand to gesture at you, Mingyu bites his bottom lip quickly, getting back to work, not seeing your reaction and how you have to look away from him, feeling your stomach tighten. The same thing had happened when he had praised the horse. He wasn’t even praising you and yet you were affected by it. 

“Well, it seems like ‘your girl’ likes me.” 

That was something that Mingyu had already noticed. The horses were drawn to you, much like he was and everyone else around you that gave you a chance. You were magnetic. “Yeah, she’s a good judge of character. Seems like you might just be a country girl after all.” 

Scoffing, you tilt your head, seeing how Mingyu smiles up at you. Moving away from the door, you find a safe place for your iPad before making your way back over and into the stall. It had been a long time since you had tried to do any of this—taking care of a horse or cleaning up after one—but you weren’t someone who backed down from a challenge. Carefully sliding your hand along Lucy’s shoulder to her flank, you put your hand out towards Mingyu, finding his brows raised for a moment before he finally puts one of the brushes in your hand. 

“You—I mean, go with…never mind, you know what you’re doing, clearly.” Mingyu had wanted to help you, teach you how to use the brush, but the moment you had it in your hand, it was as if you had done this a thousand times. That’s when it dawned on Mingyu; you probably had. You had said it yourself; you were raised here. You probably had horses of your own at one point or another, and despite the way you looked, talked, or acted now, this was in your blood. 

“Yeah, Daddy taught me how to take care of horses when I asked for one of my own when I was little. He said I’d need to know how to do this first. If I was going to be big enough to have one, I had to be big enough to take care of one.” Leaning your head back away from the dust coming from Lucy as you brush her, you think briefly about the clothes you are wearing and how they aren’t made for this situation before shrugging to yourself and stepping closer to continue your task. Clothes could be washed. Nothing couldn’t be replaced. “I used to love doing this. It was calming. Just me and Bella for an hour or so…” 

Bella. Smiling as he leans on the broom, almost forgetting what he is supposed to be doing, Mingyu has to force himself not to fixate on you for too long. He could get lost in you and what you were saying. He liked learning about you and more than just the lawyer version of you. There was stuff that was buried deeper that he wanted to pull out of you and learn about if you’d let him. “So you used to ride? You still know how?” 

Shaking your head, you meet Mingyu’s eyes as he finally goes back to sweeping. You weren’t sure anyone forgot how to ride a horse once they learned, but then again you had never really learned how; you were just put on a horse and took off. The same had been true about Seungcheol. Your dad had told you both that you were born to be on a ranch. As you got older, you grew to resent that statement, but when you were little, you remembered having so much pride over it as you’d lace your fingers into Bella’s mane and ride through the fields. You had been so rebellious even then, choosing to ride bareback, hearing Seungcheol racing behind you, telling you that you were going to fall off, but you never did. 

“Of course I do. I haven’t in a really long time, but it’s—I don’t think I could forget that.” 

There was something about how you spoke when you answered his question that made Mingyu curious and eager. Glancing towards the open window, he sighs under his breath and purses his lips. This was probably a bad idea, but life was full of decisions and Mingyu was tired of seeing his life pass by without taking any chances—especially when you were involved. “Yo—you wanna go for a ride with me?” 

Seungcheol had gotten back from town and the house was quiet. He figured that you were still working on estate paperwork somewhere on the property, but it was starting to get later in the afternoon. You were pushing yourself when it came to this and he knew it was his fault. He knew that you were trying to get as much done as quickly as possible so that he wouldn’t be stressed out, and by doing that, you were stressing yourself out. Seungcheol felt horrible about that, but he still felt a sense of relief that you were going about things the way you were. Things had been left where they belonged for now. 

Moving through the house towards the kitchen and the large doors leading towards the patio, Seungcheol stretches and yawns only for the sound to get caught in his throat at the sight in front of him. Furrowing his brows, he lowers his arms and moves out onto the large patio, following the two horses heading out from the barn towards the fence line. You and Mingyu. 

Seungcheol’s first thought is how nice it is to see you riding again. It had been years since he had even seen you near a horse, let alone riding one, but this wasn’t the way he wanted that to happen. You were out with Mingyu and that didn’t sit well with Seungcheol. It could be innocent, but knowing you and knowing Mingyu, it wasn’t. There was something too close about it all that made Seungcheol’s ‘brother’ instincts go on high alert. 

He knew that he could easily get on one of the 4 wheelers and head out after the two of you—see what you were up to and tell you to get your ass back to the house. He could saddle up his own horse and go about it that way… But instead, Seungcheol stuck his tongue against his cheek and scowled at the two of you heading towards the trees before turning back towards the house. You’d have to come home at some point. 

The ride with Mingyu was quiet for the most part. You enjoyed the peaceful, easy silence as the warm afternoon air gently moved past you. This was nice. There was no rush to be anywhere. No sounds of traffic or yelling like you had gotten used to in New York. It didn’t matter where you were in the city; there were always sirens and cars honking horns. You could always hear someone screaming at someone else. Out here there were just the sounds of the birds, peep frogs starting to come out, and crickets chirping. 

Mingyu liked happy on you. You had seemed so uptight since you had gotten to Montana. At first he thought that was just your personality but it quickly became apparent that that was how you had been living. He wasn’t used to that. Out here you lived with nature, not against it. Nature was calm for the most part and it didn’t rush you or expect you to do anything you couldn’t. Now that you were finally giving in to that way of living again, Mingyu could almost see the stress starting to slide off of you. 

“There’s a creek up the hill. We can stop up there and let the girls get somethin’ to drink and take a rest.” 

Nodding along with Mingyu’s words, you glance over at him, adjusting the reins in your hand as he gestures with his head forward, clicking his tongue, getting his horse to move a bit quicker. You smile, doing the same, feeling Lucy pick up speed with ease, following behind Mingyu. You had offered to ride another horse, to leave ‘his girl’ for him, but Mingyu insisted that you ride Lucy, saying she was the best of the girls. You had to admit he was on to something with that. She was the kind of horse that made you want to do this every day. “Good girl. Just a bit further.” 

Slowing down to a stop, Mingyu easily slides off his saddle before turning towards you, tilting his head, and lifting his hands up to help you. 

“I can do it…” 

“Yeah, I know, but I can help too.” 

He was incredibly frustrating and devastatingly handsome. Rolling your eyes, you swing your leg over the saddle and arch your back, slipping off and into Mingyu’s arms, taking a sharp breath when you realize you are face-to-face with him. “I—” 

While this hadn’t been Mingyu’s intention, having you this close and feeling your breath against his face wasn’t something that he hated. Lowering you to the ground, Mingyu clears his throat, feeling his cheeks burn slightly, though he tries to cover the feeling with a half smirk. “Sorry…” 

You heard his apology, but he didn’t really seem sorry, and you weren’t sure you wanted him to be. Furrowing your brows, you wait a moment to see if he’s going to step back. You feel Lucy move towards the creek, but when Mingyu doesn’t move, you meet his eyes, feeling the tension growing thicker. You find yourself wishing he would just kiss you if he’s going to look at you like that, and as if reading your mind, Mingyu sighs your name, leaning down to press his lips to yours. 

The moment seems to last forever. Your fingers bunch up his shirt against his stomach and Mingyu’s hands grip your hips firmly as his lips move over yours like he’s made for you. After a few minutes, you finally smile against his lips and lean your head back, feeling Mingyu chase your lips before he opens his eyes, searching yours for answers. 

“We should—” Licking your lips, you almost hate yourself for having to say what you know is true. You can feel the knots forming in your stomach as Mingyu’s thumbs trace the hint of your skin between your jeans and shirt. “We should go back to the house. It’s getting late.” 

Shaking his head, Mingyu glances up at the sky, noting where the sun is. It wasn’t that late; he knew that the sun would start to set in an hour or so, but it wasn’t anything to run from. You weren’t running from the setting sun; you were running from him. Tightening his grip on you, Mingyu whines your name, feeling you slide your hands over his chest towards his shoulders to gently push him back from you. 

“Seungcheol would be so—he’d be pissed if he knew this happened.” 

Mingyu knew you probably weren’t wrong, but it still didn’t make it any easier to hear and it also didn’t make you pushing him away easier to handle. Reaching for your hand, Mingyu groans under his breath when you let him catch the end of your fingers on his. “I—I why? This ain’t got nothin’ to do with him, Y/N.” 

Easing your fingers from Mingyu, you frown slightly and shake your head. “He told me to leave you alone. He’s already been so mad at me, Mingyu. I—this would just be one more thing he’d hate me for.” 

There was a lot for Mingyu to process and he did his best thinking while riding. Watching you in front of him, he moves his eyes along the back of your head and down your body before sighing to himself, thinking back on the kiss. It had been perfect. It wasn’t like Mingyu had never dated anybody. Hell, he was a ladies man if you asked any of the other boys on the ranch, but lately he had been wanting more than just a bed for the night. The kiss with you had meant more than any of the one-night stands he had experienced in the past year and the kiss had lasted less than five minutes. 

Helping you guide Lucy back into her stall, Mingyu searches your face as you praise the horse and thank her for letting you ride her and for the evening. You were a good person. So many people misjudged you without getting to know you. Mingyu had done it the first time he saw you and the others had done it without so much as talking to you for more than ten minutes. Your own brother judged you harshly, but now that Mingyu had taken the time to try to get to know you, he was seeing how sweet you were. He wanted to know you better and he wanted you in his life. He wanted that kiss back. 

“Thanks for taking me out there, Mingyu. It was fun.” You were almost free of the tension. You had felt Mingyu’s eyes on you from the moment that you had left the creek and headed back to the barn. You knew he wasn’t happy with what you had told him, but that was being an adult. Things happened that you weren’t going to enjoy and you had to suffer through not getting what you wanted. You had gotten used to that and good at accepting it. 

With one hand on the barn door, you gasp, feeling an arm around your waist pulling you back suddenly. You can see the desperation in Mingyu’s eyes. He wasn’t good at accepting things like you were and he made you want to be like him—to chase after what you wanted but that was dangerous. Whining his name, you shake your head as Mingyu gently pushes you against the wall, taking a step closer to you and leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. “We can’t do this. Cheol—” 

“I don’t care, Y/N. I just care about you.” This time Mingyu’s kiss is more urgent and he hopes that it speaks in volumes that he isn’t able to. He relishes in your little whines, your moans as he nips at your lips, feeling you arch your body against his. It’s almost overwhelming and the entire thing has his body on fire. You make him want to throw you over his shoulder and find the closest soft surface so he can show you exactly how he feels, but that’s too fast. You were too fucking important for him to act with his dick instead of his brain. 

Even though your brain is screaming for you to stop this and that Seungcheol is going to kill you—you can’t stop kissing Mingyu. It feels too good. Not just the action of kissing him, but the way it makes your lips feel tingly and your legs like jello. The kiss also makes your stomach feel like it’s full of butterflies and your chest feels like it's going to explode with how hard your heart is beating. You’ve felt this before but never like this. You were falling for this man and that was terrifying and exciting. 

Placing one last kiss on your lips, feeling you chase his lips this time, Mingyu grins gently, stroking your cheek with his calloused thumb as he looks down at you, seeing the hazy look in your eyes. That was how he wanted you to look all the time. You should always look like a woman who had been kissed stupid. If he had his way, he’d have you spoiled rotten and fucked dumb daily—but that was too fast. “So fuckin’ beautiful. I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well, darlin’.” 

You find yourself biting your bottom lip to stop yourself from moaning at Mingyu’s words and his seemingly innocent touches as he strokes your cheek and wrist before pulling away completely. You could get used to that. There was something to be said about a southern boy and how they could treat a woman, and yet it scared the hell out of you how much you wanted him as you watched Mingyu walk away. “Goodnight, Gyu…” 

The smell of coffee drags you to the kitchen more than your will to move. You had forgotten how much of your muscles that riding a horse actually used. Grumbling a good morning to Seungcheol, you grab your favorite mug down from the cabinet and reach for the pot of coffee he is already nursing, not really feeling how his eyes follow you. 

“You look like shit.” 

Scoffing as you lean to open the fridge and take out your creamer, you glare in your brother’s direction before shrugging. “You say the nicest things to me, Cheol. I’m so glad I’m—” 

“How was your ride? This is what happens when you don’t do it for a decade… ‘Course I would’a asked you to go on a ride with me earlier, but… I ain’t Mingyu now, am I?” The look on your face was more than enough to tell Seungcheol all he needed to know. Your poker face had never been great and being caught off guard left you with no time to prepare your reaction. 

“Wh—it—” Shaking your head, you swallow hard, putting the creamer back in the fridge. Closing it, you let your hand linger on the door for a moment longer than necessary before turning back towards Seungcheol. “It was fine. Not a huge deal.” You weren’t going to let Seungcheol get the better of you when it came to this. He didn’t know anything more than you had gone for a ride with Mingyu. That was innocent. Hell, you hadn’t done anything wrong anyway. “We can go for ride anytime you—” 

“Don’t start this, Y/N. I told you I didn’t want you messin’ around with him.” 

Not only had Seungcheol cut you off mid-sentence but now he was lecturing you on your sex life once again. Scoffing after swallowing a sip of your coffee, you nod and furrow your brows, though the look on your face clearly shows how unamused you are—how unseriously you are taking your brother’s words. “Oh, yes, sir. I remember.” Gesturing to your temple, you pout at Seungcheol, watching his eyes narrow at your attitude. “Ingrained right in here, Dad.” 

“Shut the fuck up. Don’t be such a bi—” Stopping short, Seungcheol shakes his head and runs his hand over his mouth when you press your tongue against your cheek. “I didn’t mean that. Y/N, listen to me, alright? It wouldn’t end well for either of you. So quit your shit before I quit it for you.” 

Your blood was boiling, but you didn’t want to fight with Seungcheol today. You had done plenty of that over the past couple of weeks to last you for the rest of your life at this point. Shaking your head, you tip your cup over the sink pouring out the rest of your coffee as you hear him sigh your name under his breath. “Fine, Cheol. I didn’t do anything, and I’m not gonna do anything. Just really fucking sucks you can’t trust me, even just a little bit.” 

Your words change the look on Seungcheol’s face as he watches you move back around the island. As you start to move past him and out of the kitchen, Seungcheol frowns and reaches out to grab your wrist loosely, pulling you back towards him slightly. “Hey… I’m sorry. I trust you. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.” 

Guilt bites at you when you meet Seungcheol’s eyes. While you were hurt by his words, it didn’t make lying to him feel any better. You knew that it wasn’t the end of the world that you and Mingyu had kissed. It didn’t have to happen again and no one had to know about it. “Sure. I’m alright, Cheollie. I’m gonna get ready and work on more of the paperwork.” 

You hadn’t lied to Seungcheol. While you were trying to get away from the conversation surrounding Mingyu, you did have more of the paperwork to attend to. There were still two buildings left on the property for you to look over and today it was the ranch hand’s quarters. Now that you were inside said building, you were almost wishing that you could have that conversation again. 

It wasn’t hard to tell that some of the ranch hands weren’t sure how to feel about you. There was one in particular, Chan, who couldn’t seem to control his face no matter how many times you smiled at him. He didn’t seem impressed by you and you were trying to work quickly and get out of everyone’s hair but especially his. “Um, so—” 

“That’s my bunk. All that shit is mine.” 

Swallowing hard, you meet Chan’s eyes as another man, this one blonde and with much kinder eyes, whispers for him to shut up under his voice. You liked him better; his name was Soonyoung. 

“No, man. She said she needed to make note of things that belong to the ranch. Well, none of the shit on my bunk belongs to the ranch.” 

It had been a long time since you had felt this uncomfortable around people. Clearly they had heard something about you, and perhaps Seungcheol had shared his feelings about you when it came to the ranch in general. You couldn’t blame them—blame Chan—for being upset with you. “I’m not going to disturb your belongings, Chan. I honestly don’t need anything in this ro—” 

“Then what the hell are you—” 

“‘Cause it’s her goddamn property, Chan. The fuck you being so disrespectful for?” Hanging his hat on a hook next to the door, Mingyu furrows his brows tightly, feeling the tension in the house as he looks around at each person. It’s only when his eyes land back on Chan that his nose flairs with displeasure. “And get your damn feet off the table. How many times do I gotta tell you this is a house and not the goddamn barn?” 

You could hear Mingyu and Chan arguing behind you, their volume a bit quieter as if trying to keep it from you as you turn your back to give them space. It wasn’t as if you were that far away, but you could put up the guise as if you were actually focused on your task. Licking your lips, you look down at your iPad and glance around the room before moving towards the living space and jotting down a couple of notes, feeling eyes hot on your back. 

Slapping the back of Chan’s head, Mingyu’s eyes burn as he glances towards you and mouths, ‘Now!’ causing the younger man to recoil from his hand, afraid he will get hit again. “I—Miss Choi? Ma’am… I apologize for being such an ass. Know it don’t make up for it, but—” 

You hadn’t expected Chan to apologize to you; in fact, you didn’t feel like you deserved one. You were invading their space. While, yes, this was your family’s property, you didn’t feel like there was much room for you to lay claim no matter what the paperwork had stated. Beyond that, you felt that the ranch hand’s quarters were theirs; if it hadn’t been for the inventory you were required to make, you wouldn’t have ever bothered them. Shaking your head, you offer Chan another soft smile before meeting Mingyu’s eyes, watching his hand slowly relax on the other man’s shoulder. “It’s not a problem. I’m alright. I’ll be out of your hair in just a couple of minutes. If anyone should be apologizing, it’s me.” 

Mingyu’s stomach was in knots as he watched you finish your list. You seemed different today. You seemed meeker than you had the day before. You had avoided his eyes a few times already and declined anything to drink or eat even as he cooked for the rest of the boys. “I make more than enough for you and Seungcheol.” 

“And while I’m sure that’s true, I’ve bothered you all plenty. Have a good evening.” Tapping your nails against the door frame, you lower your head respectfully, feeling four sets of eyes lingering on you until you close the door behind you. It had been hard to breathe around Mingyu even with the buffer of all the other ranch hands, but finally you were able to take in a deep breath of fresh air. 

“I admit it… She’s not a bitch.” 

Rolling his eyes at Chan, Jun sighs, leaning back in his chair, letting his eyes move over to Mingyu as he finishes up the stew he had decided to make. “Figured she wasn’t; you’re just a dick, Chan. Mingyu likes her, so she’s gotta be good people.” The way that Mingyu flinches at the accusation of him liking you tells Jun everything he needs to know. 

“And she’s fuckin’ gorgeous. I don’t know how you could yell at her to begin with. I’d rather get on my knees and beg for her to yell at me or somethin’.” 

Soonyoung, more often than not, thought with his dick more than his brain, but rarely did it get him in too much trouble. This time, however, it caused Mingyu’s shoulders to square and for him to toss down the wooden spoon that he had been stirring the stew with. “Don’t talk like that, ya got me? Finish the food, ya fuckin’ selves. I got shit to do.” 

Watching Mingyu open the door and slam it shut, Soonyoung feels like he has whiplash. Jun is the only one who moves to the stove to take Mingyu’s place and he’s the only one who smiles. 

“I—the fuck was that about? I didn’t do anythin’ wrong did I? He’s said worse ‘bout women before…” 

Adjusting the heat on the stove, Jun shakes his head and chuckles under his breath. “You are just clueless. Ain’t your fault that your brain don’t work fast enough sometimes.” Bringing the spoon to his lips, Jun nods approvingly of the taste of the stew before reaching up to the cabinet to bring down three bowls as he tries to explain the situation in a way that Soonyoung and Chan will understand. “Mingyu likes her. Chan was being a dick so that pissed him off and then you had the balls to say—” 

“Ah, fuck! Why didn’t he just say he liked her? I wouldn’ta said nothin’ ‘bout her like that—least not in front of him! You think he’s gonna kick my ass?” 

That was something Jun didn’t have the answer to, so instead he just gave Soonyoung a pity pat on the shoulder as he handed him a bowl of Mingyu’s stew. 

Mingyu had hoped that you would still be outside when he left, but instead of finding you waiting for him, he only saw the sky beginning to change colors as the sun started to get lower on the horizon. He knew that you had been working on your list again all day; you had gone from spot to spot on the ranch so maybe you were heading back towards the main house. 

Jogging to catch up with you, Mingyu calls your name in such a pleading tone that it almost wills you to stop and wait on him. When he does finally catch up with you, he leans over, resting his hands on his thighs, taking a deep breath. “Fuck… I don’t run like I used’ta.” 

You knew you should keep going—tell him that you needed to get something done so you didn’t have time to talk. But, as you watched Mingyu, his brows lifting as he smiled at you still catching his breath, you couldn’t make your feet move. “You saying you’re out of shape, Kim Mingyu?” 

Licking his lips, feeling the drier air starting to dry them out, Mingyu squints at you before standing up. “No. I work out. Hell, woman… you know I throw hay almost every damn day. Shit… are you out of shape? I should—” You were laughing at him. Mingyu wasn’t sure what he should feel, but what washed over him was fondness as your cheeks filled up slightly with your smile. God, you were so pretty it hurt his heart. It had hurt him to say goodnight to you and it hurt him to just look at you now and not kiss you. “I—I wanted to see if you wanted to meet me later.” 

Your smile fading, you lower your eyes and scrunch your nose, trying to think how to answer Mingyu’s question. There was how you wanted to answer it and how you knew you should answer it. “Hmm… I can’t. Cheol—uh, Cheol, he knows we went on the ride yesterday. He was pretty mad about it, so it’d be a bad idea.” 

It’s so clear to Mingyu that what you are saying and what you want aren’t one and the same. Sighing under his breath, Mingyu glances around before reaching for your hand, hearing you whisper his name, but you don’t pull back from him. “What? Ain’t allowed to hold your hand?” 

Now he was being willfully ignorant. Glancing towards the house, you whine under your breath. Even though it's a decent distance away from you and Mingyu, you know that if Seungcheol came looking for you, he’d see you both clearly from the windows or the patio. So instead of standing in the middle of the dirt path that leads back from the barns and the ranch hand quarters, you turn towards the barn, bringing Mingyu with you. 

Once you are more hidden by the large barn, you meet Mingyu’s eyes and work your fingers from his, feeling him cling to you, a whine slipping from his lips. “I already told you. Cheol, he—” 

“He what? He ain’t here right now, Y/N.” When you look away from him, Mingyu reaches up to gently turn your face towards him, feeling you take a step back towards the barn. With each step back, he takes a step forward until your back is against the door and he is inches from you. “I like you.” 

“No, you don’t.” Your rebuttal on Mingyu’s confession leaves your mouth so quick that you watch his eyes search for meaning in yours before he laughs, causing you to knock your head back against the wooden door. “You like the idea of me. I don’t want to fuck up your life and your friendship with my brother.” 

Sliding his hand along the inside of your forearm, Mingyu shakes his head and furrows his brows. If you had been any other woman, he might have let it go, not chased so hard, but there was something about you that had him whipped. He had kissed you twice and already he was struggling to breathe, wanting another one. “First of all, you don’t get to say who I like and who I don’t. I don’t just like some idea of you. That’s some philosophy bullshit and I don’t believe in it.” Watching you roll your eyes at him, Mingyu grins, stepping one step closer so that his knee rests against your inner thigh. “Second, you ain’t fuckin’ up a damn thing, darlin’. I—if you don’t want him to know, he ain’t gotta know. Just don’t run from me.” 

Darlin’. Closing your eyes to the pet name, you curse your body for how it betrays you. Everything that Mingyu was doing was right. His hand on your skin had chill bumps erupting under his touch. His knee on your thigh had you almost willing to settle on his leg, but worst of all it was that fucking pet name. You wanted to run, but right now you wanted to run to him and not away. “He’ll hate me—” 

“Nah, he won’t. Don’t talk ‘bout him anymore.” Brushing his fingers up your arm, Mingyu tilts his head as he takes your bag from your shoulder, putting it on the ground and meets your eyes, really looking at you this close. You were breaking his damn heart by just existing. How had he lived 27 years without you in his life? Sliding his hand along your hip, Mingyu grunts when you gasp his name and it’s like a siren call pulling his lips to yours. 

The kiss is heated, but not rushed. Mingyu didn’t wanna rush a damn thing with you and yet he didn’t want to let you go either, so when you cling to his shirt and your knees start to buckle, he does what’s best. Hands slide under your ass to the back of your thighs as Mingyu lets you wrap your legs around his waist, feeling your fingers thread into the back of his hair. This was heaven. The sun was warm as it set on his back and you were a dream come true. 

You were warm in his arms. Your lips were soft, and your moans were going straight to his cock as he tried to keep himself from getting hard in vain. It really wasn’t possible, especially with how good it felt to be between your legs even like this. Rocking his hips against yours, Mingyu furrows his brows and grunts into the kiss when you nip at his bottom lip, enjoying the feeling of him against you. 

“Fuck…” Mingyu couldn’t remember the last time he had done something like this. High school maybe?  College? The backseat of some car where he could barely move enough to drag his clothed cock between some girl’s legs. You were different. This was different. Mingyu felt desperate. He was practically rutting his hips to meet the way you were rolling yours down over him as you kissed the life out of him. He was so close, right on that edge when you whimpered his name and leaned your head back away from him. 

“This—this is—we can’t do this right now.” You didn’t even believe the words you were saying. You didn’t want to say them. You could feel your panties sticking to your folds uncomfortably as Mingyu took shallow breaths against your jaw. “I’m sorry—” 

“No, hey, no apologizing to me. Nuh-uh, darlin’.” Taking your chin between his forefinger and thumb, Mingyu tilts your head back towards him so he can place a sweet kiss on your lips before he helps you stand on your own and leans to pick up your bag for you. 

Though Mingyu was saying one thing, your anxiety was telling you another. Adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder, you furrow your brows as Mingyu adjusts his jeans and smiles at you sweetly. 

“Go on now, beautiful. I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” 

This was the furthest you had traveled from the main house and the last of the property that would need to be inventoried. From what you remembered about the old farmhouse on the edge of the property, it was falling apart—one swift wind from being knocked over, as your father had always put it—but standing in front of it now, you were stunned. The once derelict house was very much standing and it was clear that someone had been working on repairing it for some time now. 

Moving up the steps, you run your fingers over the stair railing. The wood is smooth, as if a lot of care had gone into sanding it down to perfection. Climbing the few stairs up to the porch, you listen carefully for anyone inside the house before knocking lightly, feeling it push forward. “Oh… Um, hello? Is there anyone here?” 

You are met with silence as you step inside of the house. Your eyes search for anyone else, a clue as to who might be fixing up the house, but instead you find yourself overwhelmed with how beautiful the inside already is. When you and Seungcheol had been younger, you would sneak out to this house and run through the halls as your brother would jump over broken furniture and holes in the floor—this wasn’t the same house. 

Wiping his hands off on his jeans, Mingyu furrows his brows at what sounds like someone’s voice. Taking the earbud out of his ear, he licks his lips and puts the pencil in his other hand behind his ear before heading towards the stairs. It was rare that he got evenings like this. Working on a ranch was hard. It was sunrise to sundown almost every day, but for a ranch foreman, it felt like he worked 24/7. When he did get a few hours to himself, Mingyu was always here—working on the house, rebuilding it from the ground up, making it his. 

No one really came this far out on the property. That was one of the reasons Mingyu loved it so much. The ranch was quiet in its own way, but out here, this was peace. So seeing you wandering through the living room not only confused him but also brought a smile to his face as well. While Mingyu didn’t mind guests, he preferred to be alone in times like this—but you were becoming an exception. 

“Y/N?” 

Hearing your name, you jump, having not expected to hear anything after the few minutes of welcomed silence. With your hand on your chest over your heart, you turn to meet Mingyu, seeing the surprise in his eyes as well as the smile on his face. “Hi. I—uh, hi. Why are—what are you doing all the way out here?” 

You were devastatingly beautiful and the way the words slipped off your tongue, even while you were flustered, caused Mingyu to chuckle under his breath as he moved into the room with you glancing around. “Well, I—darlin’, I live here. What are you doin’ all the way out here?” 

Shaking your head, you look around quickly again, ashamed that you hadn’t realized that someone was living in the house. Of course you had noticed that someone was remodelling it, but looking closer, you could see little signs of life among the slight chaos. “Oh! I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Mingyu. I shouldn’t have just walked inside like—” 

While you spiraled, Mingyu just smiled fondly and moved closer to you until he could slide his hands over yours, pulling you closer to him. “‘Course you should. How were you supposed to know? Not like we’ve talked about where I live anyhow.” 

Feeling your cheeks heat up as Mingyu presses his thumbs into your palms in small circles, you tilt your head trying to feign confidence. “I—well, no, we didn’t. But, I didn’t expect here. This house has been falling down for years. God, for decades.” 

“I know. I like a project. ‘Sides, your dad gave it to me and told me to take care of it. What I aim to do. Think I’m doin’ an alright job.” Swinging your hands along with his at your hips, Mingyu smiles as he looks around the room, pleased with his progress. There was still a ways to go but for doing it mostly on his own, he had come far in a short amount of time. “You wanna see the rest of the house?” 

Mingyu’s enthusiasm about something he cared about—something he loved—was infectious. You find yourself matching his smile as he laces his fingers with yours when you nod, agreeing to the tour. “As long as it’s safe. Last time I was here with Cheol he broke his arm on the stairs trying to help me when I fell through them…” 

Shock is evident on Mingyu’s face as he leads you out of the room only to stop, opening his mouth and closing it once before taking a deep breath. “Ain’t nobody fallin’ through the stairs anymore. I repaired them and the floor. That was the first thing I did besides replacing the rotten wood in the support underneath the house.” Gesturing forward, Mingyu squeezes your hand tighter as if not willing to let you go as he leads you through to the dining room. “Replaced all the windows on both floors and what hardwood I was able to salvage, I did. It’s a pity to get rid of all the original floors if I don’t gotta.” 

Letting Mingyu lead you through a few other rooms, you don’t realize how much you are smiling until he shows you the staircase and you meet his eyes. “Looks a hundred thousand times safer than it did. You put so much work into this, Gyu…” 

His name shortened on your lips is almost as nice as hearing you call him a pet name. Mingyu’s neck, cheeks, and ears heat up, a slight tinge of red at the tips of his ears as he stutters through his words and helps you up the stairs by moving his hand from yours to your lower back. “I—well, yeah! I ju—just wanna put my heart into whatever I do. No reason to half ass the place you’re gonna call home.” Gesturing with his free hand to the right, Mingyu lowers his head with another shy smile when you practically coo at him and his words. “Stop it… Jus—I ain’t done much to the two bedrooms on this side, but the master bedroom is ‘bout done and I finished the bathroom.” 

God, you want to kiss him. It’s dangerous how much you are falling for this man as he scratches the back of his neck and smiles at you like you are holding the sun in your hands. He reminds you of the stability that you knew you had with your dad and with Seungcheol. The stability you ran away from when it got smothering—the stability you long for but don’t feel like you deserve. He’s perfect and it’s terrifying. 

Humming under your breath, you step away from Mingyu and move into the master bedroom, looking around with an approving nod before moving into the bathroom taking a deep breath. It was more than the fact that it was beautiful, every piece of furniture planned out perfectly; it was that everywhere Mingyu surrounded you. In the bathroom his body wash and cologne overwhelmed your senses, causing your knees to feel weak. In the bedroom the sense of comfort made you want to beg to stay—and yet you didn’t. Begging to stay would be admitting how much you were falling in love with him. “It’s so nice, Gyu. I, uh—I was supposed to do the inventory thing here, but honestly none of this belongs to the ranch anymore so—” 

Watching you gesture around the room as if you are talking about the entire house, Mingyu nods along with you even as his brows furrow. He could tell that something was bothering you. It didn’t matter what words were coming out of your mouth; they didn’t quite match the way you were saying them. They didn’t line up with how you were acting. “Oh, right. I—uh, I mean, technically the house is still y’all’s. I mean, yeah, your dad verbally said it was min—” 

“Then it’s yours. I’m not taking that from you or him. Daddy never did anything without a reason. You were—you are important. This is yours. I’ll make sure that’s solidified in the paperwork, alright?” Sliding your fingers over Mingyu’s wrist, you feel your breath get caught in your throat when he whispers your name and holds your fingers in his. “I should get back. Cheol will start wondering where I am.” 

You weren’t wrong, but Mingyu wished he could convince you to stay. Here felt safe with you. There wasn’t any expectations and all Mingyu wanted to do was to hold you and tell you how much he was falling in love with you. Lacing his fingers with yours once more, Mingyu nods his head towards the hallway as he clears his throat. “Uh, yeah, then I can walk you out. You—uh, you want me to walk you back up to the house?” 

Staying at Mingyu’s side, the sadness in his voice makes your heart beat quicker as you both start down the stairs. You start to tell him no, that you can make it back home just fine on your own, but you make the mistake of meeting his eyes. “Mingyu…” 

You don’t mean to whine his name the way you do. It’s almost pitiful how upset you sound—how needy you sound, causing him to stop in his tracks to catch his breath. There’s no more time for overthinking. Mingyu just reacts almost instantly, turning back up the stairs pulling you towards him, feeling your legs wrap around his waist. 

Lying over you on the bed, Mingyu slides his hand along your side, feeling your teeth catch his bottom lip. It feels like a fever dream having you here on his bed. It’s what he wants for the rest of his life—your hands tracing his shoulders, arms, and back as you whine his name so breathlessly. “I’ll give you everything, darlin’...” 

The promise laced in Mingyu’s words simultaneously breaks your heart and excites you. Tears threaten to spill over the rims of your eyes as you lean your head back against the bed, feeling his lips brushing over your skin, leaving chillbumps as a reminder of where he has been. It feels so unfair to want someone and something so badly when you know it’s unattainable. You know you should run away—spare yourself and especially Mingyu the pain of what would come after this, but selfishness takes hold of you.  

Pushing your shirt up your torso, Mingyu groans under his breath at the feeling of your fingers in his hair. He could feel your pretty eyes on him and he had a point to prove. No one could love you like him. No one would ever make you feel this way again, not if he had anything to say about it. 

Every kiss earns him a sweet moan from you and urges Mingyu to move quicker. Soon your shirt is discarded on the floor along with his while his fingers carefully work open the clasp of your jeans. “You are so pretty. So damn perfect.” Mingyu knew he was whining; it was almost painful to speak instead of kissing you, but you needed to know how he felt. “I got you, baby.” 

Holding tightly to the comforter, you lift your hips and muffle your moan behind your bitten lips when Mingyu keeps muttering his soft praises against your skin. Tears were fresh on your cheeks and you wanted to hate him for making you want this, but even you couldn’t lie to yourself that well. You were upset because this was love. You loved feeling Mingyu’s hands and lips on you. He was like the sun, keeping you impossibly warm as you tried to cling to the winter frost in your heart. “Mingyu—” 

“Yeah, baby?” Meeting your eyes as he kisses his way back up your legs, Mingyu smiles against your skin and hums happily when you smile back at him. “I’m gonna love the hell outta you if you’ll let me. Lift your hips again for me.” 

Lifting from the bed once more as Mingyu slides your panties from your hips and down your legs, you swallow hard at the way his words make you feel. He hadn’t said he loved you but it was close enough. It was keeping you in his bed, letting you hold on to this dream for a little bit longer. “Now, you…” 

“I was gonna… I’m just lookin’ at you.” Dropping the last of your clothes onto the floor, Mingyu shakes his head and runs his hand over his lips to keep himself from groaning as his cock throbs in his pants. When you whine his name again in an attempt to keep him focused, he grins before moving to his feet, finally doing what you want. 

You watch as Mingyu quickly undoes his jeans and pushes them down with his boxers before kicking them from his feet. “I—” Laughing as your words get caught in your throat, you find Mingyu tilts his head at you, his brows furrowed as he moves back towards you and the bed. “Just—I expected you to be a little sexier about it.” 

“Ain’t got patience to be sexy ‘bout takin’ off my pants right now when I got you on my bed. Hell, woman… we should be happy I even got them off without fallin’.” Gesturing towards you before sliding his hands along your legs, silencing your laugh when you bite at your lips, enjoying his touch. “Have you seen yourself? Hm? Like this, I mean? I’ll never get tired of it.” 

A moan slips from your lips and Mingyu captures it with his own immediately when his thumb brushes over your nipple, feeling it harden instantly. Speaking on your lips, he smiles between kisses, his fingers moving almost torturously slow over your breast, enjoying how soft you are. “No? Then one day I should put you in front of a mirror while I make love to you. Let you see what I see for a bit.” 

Before you are able to speak or argue with him, Mingyu silences you with a kiss that takes your breath away. Arching your back from the bed, you scratch lightly at Mingyu’s shoulder, rolling your hips down over his thigh, begging in your own way for him to do something, anything, before you combust. 

While Mingyu seemed confident and focused on the surface, each time your hips rocked over his thigh, he was losing his mind. You were so wet and soft. Mingyu wasn’t sure if you even knew what you were doing to him with your sweet little moans and whines. He knew that you wanted more and he was struggling to not move too quickly and regret it later. This mattered to him; it had to matter more than some quick hookup. That wasn’t what this was to Mingyu. That wasn’t what you were to him. He was holding forever in his arms if you’d let him. “Shh, baby… I got you. I promise…” 

More promises and yet this time you weren’t letting yourself be afraid. Your mind was racing as Mingyu’s lips once again moved lower. He took his time trying to kiss every mole and scar from your neck to your chest, but it was when he reached your stomach that you couldn’t stop yourself from squirming under him. “Ah—Gyu! You’re driving me crazy. Please? Please do something!” 

You didn’t have to wait long to get what you wanted when Mingyu smiled against your hip and traced the line of your thigh to your knee, helping you put your leg over his shoulder. “Impatient…” Mingyu hears the complaint on your lips just as he hears it get lost in your moan when he traces your wet folds with his warm tongue. He had known you were going to taste good. There was no way you wouldn’t, but what he hadn’t expected was how addicted he would feel after just one taste. 

Furrowing his brows, Mingyu groans your name and wraps his arm around your hip, pulling you down in the bed towards him so you are closer to his mouth. He would do this every day and night if you’d let him. He’d be your alarm clock, gently waking you up with his lips wrapped around your clit so he could feel your fingers tug at his hair. He would happily help you settle down for the night by doing the same thing only to feel you cum on his tongue as your heel dug into his back and you whined his name like a prayer. 

“So good… Oh, fuck! Please… Please don’t stop.” It seemed that you didn’t even need to ask that of Mingyu. He was determined and talented with his mouth. You felt him all over your body with how quickly he was pushing you over the edge. He was racing through your blood and in your lungs with every deep breath that you struggled to take. Crying out his name once more, you tighten your thighs around his head and fall back on the bed feeling boneless. 

If Mingyu hadn’t had more restraint, he would have cum right when your thighs closed around his head. You were trembling under him all while whispering his name. This was heaven. You were heaven and his goddess. Mingyu had never been a religious man, but in this bed you had made him a believer. 

Licking his lips, Mingyu glances up from between your legs to watch you come down from your high. That was better than any sunrise or sunset he had ever seen. Your lips were parted softly as you took deep breaths, causing your soft breasts to rise and fall, enticing him up the bed. 

“You are so fuckin’ beautiful. I can’t stand it…” Mingyu’s voice was soft but you could still hear the way he was having to restrain himself laced in it. Strong and calloused fingers move along your body as he moves up in the bed to lay over you, his lips brushing over yours carefully. “Wanna be inside of you so bad.” 

“Then what are you waiting for?” 

Smiling into the kiss, Mingyu pulls back just enough to nudge his nose against yours before he sighs. “You sure? We don’t gotta—” 

“Kim Mingyu, if you don’t put your fucking cock in—” 

“Woah, alright. Hell fire… I’m just tryin’ to be a gentleman.” Muttering under his breath, Mingyu smiles even as he complains about your dirty mouth and how he needs to clean it up. Just when you start to tell him that you don’t need him to do anything more than fuck you, the words get caught in your throat. With one hand holding your knee to his hip, Mingyu uses his other to carefully line himself up with your needy entrance before very slowly easing his cock into you. 

The stretch is intense. You find yourself wishing you had asked him to use his fingers first, but soon the painful stretch becomes a welcomed one. Gasping for a deep breath, you throw your head back against the bed, feeling Mingyu’s eyes on you as you get overwhelmed with the feeling of being full. “Shit. Oh, my god, Gyu… Move.” 

Mingyu had managed to get most of his cock in you, but you were clenching around him like a vice. You had him gritting his teeth and digging his nails into the meatiest part of your thigh when you finally asked him to move. He was thanking god or whoever was listening that you had let him move when you did, he wasn’t going to last long. You felt too good. You were warm, soft, and wet. Every thrust he got deeper, you were able to take more of his cock and it was driving Mingyu insane. “Fuck, baby. You are so good. Holy shit… you’re made for me.” Groaning against your jaw, Mingyu thrusts deep and hard, hearing you moan loudly, matching how he felt. “Made for my cock, huh? Never leaving my bed.” 

You were seeing stars with every hard thrust. Mingyu was by far the biggest man you had been with in more ways than one and your body was not only adjusting to it, but learning to crave it. You find yourself trying to imagine being in bed with someone else, wanting to separate yourself from the moment and knowing that Mingyu is the one making you feel this good, but you are reminded by his words that it’s only him. There is no one else and even you know there will be no one else. No one had ever made you feel like this. You were floating. There were no bones in your body. There was just you and Mingyu. No thoughts. No today or tomorrow. Just you and Mingyu. 

“I can tell you’re close.” Muttering against the shell of your ear, Mingyu groans, feeling you clench around him tighter. There was no way you weren’t going to cum for him. He could almost feel your orgasm rolling through you as he rocked his hips to meet yours, hearing you sob his name. “Cum for me, baby.” Burying his face against your shoulder, Mingyu bites down and furrows his brows tightly when you do fall over that edge. Your orgasm is so intense that it takes everything in him not to cum right then. He has to force himself to wait a moment longer so he can ease himself out of you; only then does he paint your thighs and lower stomach with his cum. 

Feeling suddenly empty, you pout, keeping your eyes closed even as Mingyu tries to catch his breath beside you. As if he can sense your sadness, the loneliness creeping into you, Mingyu kisses your shoulder, and his fingers trace your lips. Instead of sadness, you get overwhelmed with anxiety and worry, turning to meet his eyes and seeing only love in his. 

“I lo—” 

“I should head back home, Gyu.” 

Swallowing his words, Mingyu tries not to let your sudden shift in mood scare him, but it's impossible. He had wanted to tell you something, but clearly you weren’t ready to hear it. He didn’t want you to leave, but looking in the direction of the window with you, Mingyu just sighs as you move to sit up beside him. 

“It’s gonna get dark soon and Cheol—” Shaking your head, you feel your heart beat quicker as the panic really starts to set in. Even when Mingyu’s fingers wrap around your wrist trying to get you to calm down, to not rush off, you pull your arm away and slide off the bed to gather your clothes, obviously shaking. “Cheol might come looking for me. That would be really fucking bad for both of us.” 

The idea of Seungcheol coming to look for you here didn’t scare Mingyu. He’d tell your brother exactly how he felt about you. He didn’t understand why you were so scared of this or why Seungcheol would be so mad about it, but the fear in your voice made Mingyu sit up and help you finish getting dressed before he did the same. 

Walking hand in hand with you to the door, Mingyu swallows hard when you finally pull your hand from his. There is so much he wants to say to you, but the look on your face tells him that you aren’t ready to hear it. Instead of speaking, Mingyu just smiles sadly and reaches up to brush his thumb over your cheek, happy when you don’t pull away. “I’ll see you later, Y/N.”

Tears bite at your eyes the entire walk home. You fight them and the pain in your chest until you are inside your house and meet an annoyed Seungcheol sitting at the kitchen island. 

“Where the hell have you been? I tried callin’ you. I was worried ‘bout you, Y/N. I was fixin’ to have the boys get with me and start lookin’...” 

Thinking on your feet, you force a smile and a laugh, rolling your eyes as you take out your iPad and gesture to it. “Just finishing up the last of the property list, Cheollie. You are so fucking dramatic. I guess my phone died…” 

“Died? How—how the fuck do you let your phone die?” 

It was clear that Seungcheol wasn’t buying your story completely, but you weren’t going to fold. Taking your phone out of your purse, you show it to him and luckily for you, it hadn’t been a lie. Trying to power the phone on, you are just met with a notice to charge your phone and an annoyed look on your brother’s face. “See… I must have forgotten to plug it up last night. Everyone makes mistakes, Seungcheol.” Showing him the iPad once more, you gesture towards the living room and sigh. “I have to finish up a few more things.” 

Following you out of the room, Seungcheol narrows his eyes and sighs. “Yeah, yeah. Give me your phone. I’ll go plug it in. Seriously, don’t do that shit again. I was freakin’ the hell out.” 

You had managed to sit down on the couch and put your purse on the floor before Seungcheol had made it to you. He was hovering and it was reminding you why you enjoyed your own space in the city. Giving him an annoyed look, you tilt your head and lean over to pick up your purse, not realizing your shirt has slipped down your shoulder until you offer Seungcheol your phone and feel his eyes burning a hole into your skin. “Wha—take it. Why are yo—” 

“Your phone died?” Watching you nod and try to offer you the phone again, Seungcheol looks from your face back to your shoulder and the hickey starting to form. He wasn’t as fucking stupid as you clearly thought he was. “Kim fuckin’ Mingyu.” 

Shocked to hear Mingyu’s name on your brother’s lips, you sit up a bit straighter and watch as your brother wipes his hand over his lips, his eyes full of anger. It’s then that you realize what he is looking at and use your phone’s reflection to see what he is seeing. “I—no, Cheol. It’s just a bruise.” 

“I’m so goddamn tired of your lying! I’m gonna kill him.” 

You barely have time to react before Seungcheol has turned on his heels and is heading for the door. Rushing to your feet, you adjust your shirt and chase after him, calling his name in a panic, feeling your blood run cold. 

The house was too quiet now. Mingyu had liked it before, but that was before you had been there and made him realize how alone he was. Sighing into his beer, Mingyu furrows his brows as he sits on the top step looking out over the field leading back towards the ranch and to you. He wished you’d come back; he could almost picture you running back towards him and back into his arms. He’d explain how much he loved you and how he didn’t want you to leave him again. Shaking his head, Mingyu takes a long drink of his beer and leans his head back only to furrow his brows, wondering if he’s hearing things when he does hear someone shout his name. 

“Kim Mingyu!” Seungcheol was seeing red and he was out for blood. He had tried to trust you and he thought he could trust his best friend, but clearly he had been an idiot for trying to do either of those things. Seeing the porch light in the distance, Seungcheol ignores your panicked whines of his name as you run behind him trying to keep up. All Seungcheol could see now was Mingyu moving to his feet in front of him. 

“Hey, Cheol?” 

That was all that Seungcheol let the man get out of his mouth before his fist made contact with it. He had never hit his best friend before, but then again, his best friend had never fucked his sister after being told to stay the hell away from her. Why could neither of you listen? 

“Choi Seungcheol! Stop it!” 

Mingyu’s jaw was on fire; he could taste blood and he felt like he was seeing double as he shook his head and met Seungcheol’s eyes. He could hear you screaming Seungcheol’s name but all he could see was the man’s fury as he clenched his fist and swung again. This time Mingyu knew what was coming and moved quickly enough to not get hit. That only seemed to make Seungcheol more angry and more determined to fight. 

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you, Mingyu! What did I tell you?!” Pointing his finger towards Mingyu, Seungcheol growls out his words before you grab his arm and try to pull it down in an attempt to stop your brother. This, just like Mingyu dodging his last punch, only makes Seungcheol more furious and causes him to push back against you hard, sending you to the ground with a painful thud. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Seungcheol?” Now Mingyu was seeing red too. He would have been more willing to hear Seungcheol out if he hadn’t seen you fall to the ground, but your pitiful whine sent his head spinning and had him rushing towards his best friend. 

You watch in horror, trying to get to your feet quickly enough as Mingyu manages to land a painful blow to Seungcheol’s stomach. This was your worst nightmare. You had always managed to fuck up things at home, but never this badly. It was one thing for you to fight with your father or your brother, but causing your brother and his best friend to physically fight—this was a different low. Screaming at the top of your lungs for them to stop, you force your way between the two men, feeling Mingyu take a step back first, not willing to hurt you even as Seungcheol pushes against you, trying to finish this. “Please! Stop! I’m sorry! Cheol!” 

Stumbling backwards when your panicked screams finally seem to get through to him, Seungcheol glares first at you and then at Mingyu before pointing at him. “Get the fuck off my property. You're fired.” Turning his attention back to you, Seungcheol reaches for your arm, pulling you towards him hard. “And you get the hell back to the house!” 

You weren’t fighting for yourself anymore, even if Seungcheol’s grip hurt—you were mad that he was trying to force Mingyu out of his home. Slapping at your brother’s chest and finally his face, you meet his eyes with tears streaming down your face. “No! I will leave! Do you hear me? This is my fault. He isn’t going anywhere. Daddy gave him the house, Seungcheol! It isn’t yours to take.” Shaking your head as he starts to complain, you push him back again further away from Mingyu. “This is my fucking fault! I did this! Not Mingyu. I’ll leave in the morning.” 

“Y/N…” 

Hearing Mingyu’s voice, you turn towards him and shake your head before grabbing Seungcheol’s hand, trying to pull him with you. Mingyu watches you, feeling his heart break as you mutter for Seungcheol to come on, urging him back towards the ranch. Wiping the blood from his lips, he leans his head back and sighs loudly, drawing Seungcheol's and your attention back towards him. 

“You’re wrong, Cheol, and you know it.” Watching you shake your head, Mingyu just nods at you and meets Seungcheol’s eyes even as he glares at him. “She ain’t done nothin’ wrong and I—fuck I ain’t either. She shouldn’t have to leave. This is her home.” Gesturing behind him, Mingyu scoffs, though the pain is evident in his voice. “I’ll leave if that’s really what you want.” 

Tugging his hand from yours, Seungcheol shakes his head before running his fingers through his hair. He could already feel his ribs starting to hurt. He was going to be bruised and he was getting a headache. “I don’t give a fuck what you do, Mingyu. Clearly neither of you gives a shit about what I care about.” 

Trying to grab Seungcheol’s arm again, you whine when he keeps it from you again. “Cheollie…” Tears drip from your cheeks and on to your shirt as you start to walk back with him, but not before meeting Mingyu’s eyes and shaking your head. “Don’t go anywhere. That’s your house; I told you before.” You could see the pain in his eyes, the way he was almost begging you to stay there with him, but you couldn’t. You had to follow your family this time even if he hated you. 

Sniffling back your tears even as you move through the living room with Seungcheol, you watch as he pours himself a drink and sits down hard on the couch. He hadn’t spoken to you once on the walk back to the house. He had kept his eyes forward and no matter how many times you tried to whisper your apology, he ignored it. Even now as you watched him stare at the wall, you could feel the anger rippling off of him. 

“Cheol…” Your voice was meek and full of regret as you moved closer to your brother, finally moving to your knees near him on the couch. You couldn’t make him look at you, but you knew he could hear you. “I’m so fucking sorry. I know I lied. I—I disappoint you all the time. I ruined your friendship with Mingyu. I know you hate me and I don’t blame you.” Wiping tears from your cheeks as Seungcheol continues to seemingly ignore you, you whine into your words, feeling your heart being crushed. “I’m sorry. I love you and I know I fucked this up. I—I’ll go pack. I’ll leave in the morning. I swear.” 

Sniffing hard, Seungcheol takes another sip of his drink and puts it on the arm of the sofa, still not looking at you. “Don’t be fuckin’ stupid. You ain’t leavin’.” Daring to look at you finally, Seungcheol has to force himself to stay stoic when your tears cause his heart to ache. “I’m so fuckin’ pissed off at you, Y/N. You lied to me over and over again. It’s all you do—” 

“I’m sorry Cheollie! I—I’m not trying to lie to you. That wasn’t what I was tryin—” 

“Stop it. You say this shit. You always get my hopes up and then you do this.” Gesturing around him like you are supposed to see what he’s telling you, Seungcheol sighs and leans his head back. “You get back in my heart or in someone else’s, and you run.” 

A sob gets caught in your throat when you feel Seungcheol’s pain in his words. His anger had subsided and gotten replaced with something worse and it was eating you alive. “I—I’m not trying to hurt you or anyone else, Cheol. I—that—that’s why I…” 

Shaking his head, Seungcheol looks up at the ceiling to stop the tears in his eyes from falling when you try to explain yourself. He didn’t want your excuses. “Yeah, well, it’s what you’re good at and I just wish that once, just fuckin’ once, you weren’t.” 

It was as if the sky was as upset as Mingyu felt. From the moment that he had woken up, the storms had started. There had been few moments in the day when he could wander out during a dry spell and work on a task to keep his mind from lingering on you. You were all he wanted to think about and it seemed as if you were avoiding him as much as he was avoiding Seungcheol. 

Last night had not ended in the way that Mingyu would have hoped. He could still feel the pain in his lip and jaw. The bruise was already starting to turn an ugly color where his lip had split angrily, but at least he had stopped bleeding. That pain was nothing compared to what he felt in his chest when he watched you turn away from him every time you saw him come near. It wasn’t like he blamed you. He should leave you alone, but that was easier said than done when his heart ached from just thinking about you. 

The rain now was a perfect reminder of how he felt. It came in waves, soaking the ground and keeping him secluded—or so he thought. Mingyu hadn’t expected to see you again and he certainly hadn’t expected to see you watching the rain from the large barn door entrance. You looked too perfect just standing there. It felt wrong to just admire you for as long as Mingyu did, but he found himself afraid if he said anything too soon you might fly off like a bird towards the gray sky. It was only when it was unbearable to just watch that Mingyu moved closer and whispered your name just loud enough to be heard over the rain. 

You had thought that you were alone. The storms made it easy for you to think that. Everything was loud when the rain started to fall on the tin roofs of the barns. You had been trying to make it back to the house when the rain started to come down in sheets, pushing you into the barn for shelter. All day long the storms had come and gone quickly, but this one seemed to be holding on like it held a grudge—but when you hear your name, you realize that maybe that idea wasn’t as crazy as it seemed. 

Closing your eyes, you sigh and lower your head at Mingyu’s voice. There was no slipping away from him this time. No pretending like you didn’t hear him or that he didn’t see you standing where you were… You could feel your heart tightening as his fingers brushed over yours and he sighed your name once more, almost begging you without any other words to talk to him. 

“Mingyu, please stop…” You hear him start to speak again, but before he can try to plead his case, you bite the bullet, lifting your eyes to meet his sad ones. “Jus—just don’t, okay? Don’t do this.” Watching him shake his head, hurt and confusion in his gaze, you stay calm, keeping your own tears at bay as you force the words out. “I’m leaving soon. I’m gonna go back to the city. I mean… Let’s be serious, Mingyu… I’m not good for anyone.” 

It was clear what you were trying to do. Mingyu wasn’t an idiot. He could see the look on your face. See the tears sitting on the rims of your eyes even if you wouldn’t let them fall. You were doing your best to push him away and it wasn’t going to happen. Not while he was breathing. Scoffing, Mingyu slides his fingers against yours, taking your hand in his even as you whine his name and close your eyes as if trying to will yourself away from him and your feelings. “Tell me why? Huh?” 

Exasperated, you start to look away from Mingyu as you open your eyes, only for him to turn your face back towards him carefully. “Stop. Why are you doing this? I told you, I am leaving.” 

“And I asked why? Why do you gotta go? Answer that.” 

It seems like such a simple question, one that you should know the answer to as easy as breathing, but you falter. Shaking your head, you open your mouth and close it for a moment before taking a breath and gesturing towards him and then out at the ranch. “Because, Gyu! That’s where my life is. That’s where my job is.” 

Nodding along with your words, Mingyu tries to tighten his grip on your hand when you pull it away, causing him to sigh into his words. “Baby… Why can’t that be here? Huh? You got a life here—” 

“Don’t…” The tears that you had been keeping at bay finally fall onto your cheeks as you take a step back. “Don’t call me that.” 

Following you step by step without trying to push you away from him, Mingyu fights the urge to pull you into his arms and comfort you. The tears on your cheeks break his heart but also tell him that he’s right. “Why not?” 

You try to keep walking away from Mingyu, wanting to put more distance between what you want and what you know you can’t have when you feel the door of the barn against your back stopping you. A soft sob slips from between your lips, causing your words to soften. “Because… it hurts.” 

Giving into his need to touch you, to keep you safe as your voice shakes, Mingyu holds your wrists loosely, happy when you don’t pull away. “Why, baby?” You don’t answer right away; instead, you turn your head to the side, more tears slipping down your cheeks as he uses the pet name again, causing your heart to tighten in your chest. “Why does it hurt?” 

Mingyu watches you shake your head, your brows furrowing as you fight the urge to tell him the truth and if you should run away instead. “Is it ‘cause you might love me?” He knew it was bold of him to say and even bolder to assume, but he felt it when you kissed him. He could see it in your eyes even as you looked for your escape plan. 

Knocking your head back against the door, you shake your head and avoid Mingyu’s eyes for as long as you can until he wipes the tears from your cheeks. “Shut up.” You had never been afraid to tell men that you loved them in the past. The truth was that you had never meant it often. Those three words had been for the most part, just part of the routine. You’d meet a nice guy, move in for a while, say the words, and then get bored, but then Mingyu. The words weren’t just routine. They weren’t just words. 

Not hiding the way the corners of his lips pull up into a smile, Mingyu nods before leaning to brush his nose against yours, testing the waters. Would you pull away? Tell him to get the hell away from you. When you do neither of those things, your hands moving slide over his stomach, Mingyu bites his lips, letting out a slow breath once again and biting a bullet. “It’s alright, baby. I might just love you too.”  

The rain had gotten harder, but so had your tears. Shaking your head, you finally pull away, stepping out from the barn and feeling the rain begin to soak through your clothing as it washes away your tears. The idea that Mingyu loved you was overwhelming and it changed too much. If you ran away—did what you always did—you couldn’t get hurt, and you couldn’t hurt anyone else, only this time someone wasn’t letting you. 

It didn’t matter to Mingyu that he was getting soaked from the rain. He couldn’t stand the idea of you leaving him. He had seen that look on your face. He knew it in his heart how you felt even if you couldn’t say it yet. Licking the rain from his lips, Mingyu grabs your hand and meets your eyes when you whine his name. He can tell what is rain and what is your tears, but that doesn’t matter as his hand wipes it all from your cheeks so his lips can meet yours, hopefully saying everything you need to hear. 

Water drips from both you and Mingyu as he carries you into his house, letting the screen door slam close behind him. There wasn’t a single thing else on his mind than you in his arms at the moment with your lips on his. If it weren’t for the fact that he could feel you starting to shiver against him, Mingyu would have put you against the wall right against the front door and taken you right there. 

You hadn’t planned to end up back here, but then again you hadn’t planned on any of this. How could you have foreseen Kim Mingyu? How could you have imagined how one man would turn your entire life upside down and leave you so completely breathless with just a kiss or his strong hands keeping you secure in his arms? You had never been the type of woman to want to be carried or manhandled, but that also had changed when you had met Mingyu because now you found yourself being carried up the stairs and into his bathroom. “Gyu… put me down. I can walk…” 

“I know what you can do, baby.” Giving you his most blinding grin, Mingyu shakes his head as he sits you on the bathroom counter so he can slide his hands up your thighs under your wet dress. “And I know what I can do for you. Why the hell would I make you walk when I can do it for you?” Tsking as if it’s simple addition, he steps between your legs, urging you to lift your hips, letting him slip the dress further up your body and over your head. “Now I’m gettin’ you out of these wet clothes and into a warm shower.” 

Leaning back against the mirror, you bite at your bottom lip, letting your eyes move over Mingyu as he stands in front of you. “Yeah? I’m not the only one in wet clothes.” The rain had soaked you both to your skin. Mingyu’s white t-shirt clung to his chest, leaving little to your imagination, while water dripped from his hair. 

“Is that your way of askin’ me to join you?” 

Goosebumps were covering your skin, even as the steam had started to fill the room, making the air around you both warmer; it wasn’t enough to hide the effect Mingyu had on you. “What do you think? You gonna make me shower alone? After bringing me all the way here?” 

Mingyu had been good at keeping the confident facade up until that point. He was head over heels for you. You ask him to get on his knees and beg to shower with you at that point and he’d do it without so much as a question. Tugging his shirt over his head, he drops it on the floor next to your dress, meeting your eyes once again before tugging you to the end of the counter so that he can get his lips back on yours, speaking against them. “I’ll never make you do a single fuckin’ thing alone again, baby.” 

You wanted to give in to Mingyu, believe that you could have what he was promising. While a tiny voice inside your head told you to run, your heart was too lost on the moment. Furrowing your brows, you give into the kiss and melt into Mingyu’s touch. For once in a long time, you give yourself completely to the moment and to someone else, hoping they will catch you when you fall—and he does. 

It doesn’t take too much longer for Mingyu to have the rest of your clothes and his discarded on the floor or for him to have your back against the wall of the shower. Moaning into his mouth, you keep your legs tight around his waist, enjoying the overwhelming feeling of Mingyu pinned against you. “Please…” 

“Please?” Nudging his nose against your jaw, Mingyu grins and licks the water from his lips when you whine his name. “What? I’m just tryin’ to understand what you want from me, darlin’. I got you where I said I would…” 

He was frustrating in all the best ways. You could feel yourself clenching around nothing as Mingyu’s cock rested between your body and his. It wouldn’t take much for him to slide right into you and get you as full as he had the day before, but he was being coy. Two could play that game. Knocking your head back against the tile wall, you pout at Mingyu before rolling your hips towards him, watching his mouth fall open in a silent groan. “You did, but if this is all you’re gonna do… You might as well put me down and let me actually take a shower.” 

Scoffing, Mingyu presses you tighter against the wall, his smirk lifting at his lips once again when you gasp. You were soft and wet against him. It was more than what was left over from the rain and the water from the shower—this was you leaking between your legs as you teased him. “You’re so full of shit, baby.” 

You start to give some witty comeback about how at least you are full of something since it’s not him when Mingyu renders you speechless. The pressure of his cock bullying its way into your tight pussy causes a breath to get stuck in your throat that you only let go of when his hips are flush with yours. The first deep thrust has you seeing stars. You had been full of Mingyu before, but this felt different. He was determined and you could do nothing but cling to him and moan as your walls tightened around him even further, begging him for more. 

“Fuck, baby. You feel like heaven.” Mingyu was whining into every single groan as he fucked you slowly but deeply against the shower wall. He could feel every time your pussy clenched around him. He could tell you were close by how your smooth walls were holding him like your life depended on keeping him close. “God, I—I love you, Y/N. I know it ain’t fair to say it right now, but dammit, baby, it’s true.” 

Closing your eyes so tight that you force the tears from them, you hold back your sob as Mingyu buries his face against your neck. You know what you want to say in return—you love him too, but the words don’t leave your mouth. You instead find your escape when Mingyu quietly begs you to cum for him, telling you that he can’t wait—that he needs you to let go for him. Unable to hold yourself back anymore, you gasp for a deep breath, unable to take it when your orgasm rips through you like a tidal wave with one of Mingyu’s hard thrusts. 

“Oh, fuck…” The word is drawn out. Mingyu’s vision goes white as he bites at his lips, trying to stop himself from following you immediately, knowing he needs to restrain himself. It’s when he tries to separate himself from you, his climax so close that he can taste it, that you sob his name and tell him to stay. Meeting your eyes, Mingyu thinks he could pass out or die right then and there. It isn’t the smartest or safest thing in the world to do, but he nods, his hand sliding along yours to pin your wrist to the wall as he buries himself inside of you as deeply as possible, spilling his cum into you with a loud, drawn-out groan. 

The water from the shower had started to go cold. If this had been your apartment, you would find that annoying, but in Mingyu’s arms as he held you back against his chest, working soap over your body, you didn’t care. There was a lot left unsaid, especially by you, but the brush of Mingyu’s lips over your ear and your fingers walking along his forearm said plenty—just not enough. 

“I love you, baby.” Closing your eyes again, you turn your head away from Mingyu’s lips, hearing him sigh against your head. “It’s alright. You ain’t gotta say it back right now… But I sure as hell ain’t gonna stop tellin’ you.” 

“I know, Gyu…” Your voice is quiet even as the water is cut off and Mingyu helps you out of the shower wrapping a towel around you. “I—I’m selfish. I don’t want you to stop telling me.” 

Shaking his head, Mingyu smiles softly, his head tilted as he uses the towel to wipe some water from your cheek before rubbing his hands along your arms over the towel. “That ain’t selfish.” Taking a deep breath, he wraps a towel around his waist before returning his attention to you and helping you dry off slowly. “Just means you’ll tell me when you’re ready. I’m patient.”

Furrowing his brows at the light making its way through his blinds, Mingyu sighs, sliding his hand along the bed to reach out for you. It had been a dream come true to sleep with you in his arms, and it seemed like that dream was over. The other side of his bed was cold now. Forcing his eyes open, Mingyu frowns, seeing the reality of what he knew—you weren’t there. In the place where you had slept, there was just a daisy lying on your pillow. 

You hadn’t given him a real answer last night and now, as Mingyu looked at the flower between his fingers, he still didn’t know what you wanted. You had taken the time to wander around the house and out of it to pick a flower next to the porch before bringing it back upstairs to him and yet you hadn’t said goodbye. It felt final and made Mingyu’s stomach feel like it was full of stones. 

It had been a couple of hours since you had gotten back to the house. You had managed to get there before Seungcheol had thankfully even considered waking up and now you were pushing around breakfast on a plate. The smell of the food alone was enough to turn your stomach as you listened to the sound of footsteps shuffling into the room and Seungcheol’s rough greeting as he slumped down into a chair. 

You looked like you hadn’t slept at all. There was a sad look on your face and you barely whispered a good morning to him as your brother studied you. There was something wrong. You would barely look up from the papers in front of you. “Uh—is uh, the inventory shit done? You alright?” Sliding a mug closer to him, Seungcheol starts to pour himself a cup of coffee when you nod and sigh out of your nose, finally meeting his eyes. You have been crying. Seungcheol can see the makeup under your eyes, but no matter how much you try to hide it, he knows what it looks like when you cry. 

“Yep. All good. It’s done and just needs you to sign a couple of things.” Blinking a few times feeling Seungcheol’s heavy gaze, you look back down at the paperwork, putting a pen on top of a stack of papers and sliding them towards him. “Those are for the bank. Basically just what was in the will and estate.” 

Nodding along with your words, Seungcheol picks up the pen, glancing over the papers before signing his name below yours on each sheet of paper. It’s only when he reaches the last one, where his name is above yours, that he stops, his brows furrowing. “What the fuck is this one? I haven’t seen—” Muttering under his breath, he reads aloud a few words loud enough for you to hear as you shift uncomfortably, waiting for him to just get it over with. “Liquidation of Miss Choi’s half of assets and property… No. No, Y/N. I won’t sign this shit.” 

You have to force yourself to meet Seungcheol’s eyes as he shakes his head, pushing the papers back towards you so hard that most of them scatter. “Cheol! Please listen to me. I’m doing this beca—” 

“Fuck you! You don’t get to do this again!” With tears on the rims of his eyes, Seungcheol pushes back on his chair hard, causing it to fall back on the floor as he comes to a stand. “Do you hate me that fuckin’ much?” Instead of getting an answer from you, Seungcheol is met with silence and tears on your cheeks. “Wow, Y/N…” 

The silence is deafening as Seungcheol walks out of the room. The only sound you hear is the slam of the door as he goes outside, leaving you alone in the house with your thoughts that make you feel like you are drowning. 

Mingyu isn’t sure what he expected to find when he reached the main house. He had hoped that maybe you would be waiting for him or that maybe you’d come running out to meet him and jump into his arms. None of that happened; he instead finds Seungcheol sitting on the porch with a cigarette between his lips and tears on his cheeks. “What—” Looking between him and the house, Mingyu swallows hard as his brows furrow at the sight of his best friend so broken in front of him. “What happened?” 

There wasn’t anything to say and there was no way that Seungcheol was going to explain all of this to Mingyu right now. The anger was still too fresh. Barely meeting Mingyu’s eyes, Seungcheol simply gestures back towards the house where you are without saying a word. 

The sound of footsteps once again has your stomach in knots. You try to pull yourself together, wiping the tears from your cheeks, readying to defend yourself to Seungcheol once again when you look up to see Mingyu instead. Of course it would be worse. You find yourself playing the morning back, laying next to him as the sun started to rise and running your fingertip over the bridge of his nose before fear ripped through you so you ran away. Now he stood in front of you looking at the papers spread out on the table. “Mingyu…” 

“I was—well, I was coming to see why you left, but Cheol—” Shaking his head, unable to finish what he is saying as his brows furrow at the paperwork in front of him, Mingyu picks up one of the papers before sighing your name. “You really wanna leave?” 

Sighing, fresh tears falling onto your cheeks, you gesture around you as a scoff slips from your lips as if it should be obvious. “I fuck everything up, Mingyu. No one needs me here!” Pushing back from the table like Seungcheol had before, you start to walk away when a hand on yours stops you. 

“Who says? Who gets to decide that, baby?” Shaking his head, Mingyu takes a step towards you, dropping the paper back onto the table as you whine his name and try to pull your hand from his. “You are always runnin’ away. I ain’t like the rest that just let you, dammit!” 

Mingyu’s words cut at you deep. It was obvious that you were always running away and he was calling you out on it. Shaking your head to disagree with logic, you tug at his hand only to be pulled towards him, feeling his other hand gently wipe at your tears. 

“Now, I love you, and I want you to stay with me.” Even as you close your eyes, Mingyu just sighs and continues, knowing you can still hear him, the tears rolling down your cheeks for him to wipe away. “Baby, I know that Cheol wants you to stay.” 

No matter how tightly you close your eyes and try to run away, to will this all away where you can’t hurt Mingyu or Seungcheol, when you open your eyes Mingyu is still standing in front of you. He’s still there holding you and begging you to admit that you love him. Leaning your head forward, you rest it against Mingyu’s chest, his fingers running over the back of your head soothingly as you mutter softly. “What if I fuck this up?” 

Shrugging, Mingyu smiles against your head before kissing the same place gently. “Then I’ll fix it. I’ll fix you.” 

The words and the idea of them make you laugh, but you know he isn’t lying. Pouting, you finally look up at Mingyu so he can cup your cheek and brush his lips against yours. Finally, after fighting it for days, the words make it past your lips and to his ears. “I love you, Mingyu.” 

You feel his lips pull up against yours, his smile infectious, causing you to smile in return before his arms hold you to him for a few more moments. 

“Say it again.” 

Sighing softly, you nod. “I love you.” 

The words are like music to Mingyu’s ears and more than that, they feel like a promise he’s been dying to hear. Taking a step back, he brushed his thumb against your bottom lip before looking back to the table, picking up the piece of paper that had caused so much hurt today. You watch as he furrows his brows, his eyes quickly looking over the words before he hands it to you, letting you decide what you are going to do. 

It feels like minutes, maybe hours, as you hold the paper in your hands before you finally do what you should have done from the beginning—you rip it in half. With the two halves of the paper falling to the ground, you feel the anxiety in your chest lift as Mingyu pulls you back against him, and he welcomes you home. 

READ THE BONUS NOW

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[sacredsorceress]

I'm gnawing at the bars of my enclosure for more bob content. How do you think Bob would be with intimacy both NSFW and non-NSFW?

☆.°*Physical Intimacy w/ Bob HCs*°.☆

a/n: oooo idk if you meant intimacy in general but since you mentioned NSFW, im going to focus on physical intimacy!! no smut though. also forgive the first bit just explaining my thought process word count: 1.0k warnings: sexual content but not smut, regardless 18+ Minors DNI!, also mentions of drugs and insecurities. just anything that would've been in thunderbolts.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・inbox・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Knowing Bob's background, I believe that he would deeply crave intimacy, but be very hesitant to initiate it himself.

He had a rough childhood that probably didn't consist of a lot of affection from his mother and if you read the file that Valentina had on Bob, it says that his drug addiction started in middle school and that he dropped out in eighth grade because of it. After that, he had a juvenile record a mile long from breaking & entering, robbery etc.

With this information, I'm going to guess that he hasn't had many (if any) relationships and if he did, they probably weren't very healthy. Overall, he has a negative history with trust and intimacy.

BUT despite all of this, being with the team has had a positive impact on him- showing him that he isn't alone, what it's like to be sober and that vulnerability can be a good thing. For once, he can let down his walls and be his true self.

Unfortunately, physical intimacy is a whole other battle with the void lurking between the surface.

Before you had even begun dating, you had made the mistake or brushing his hand. Once simply gesture- a subconscious one really- threw you into one of your worst memories with Bob as a viewer. When you both came back to reality you didn't pull away, or flinch. He did.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Bob said tearing his hand from yours. "I can't control it. I- I didn't mean-"

And even though you just relived your own past, you reached for him.

"Bob, I know." You said, squeezing his hand. "It's not your fault."

You didn't leave, didn't scream at him. Just held him. And from that day on its like the barrier was lifted.

He would never make the first moves touching you before you were dating- that's where you come in.

It would start slow: hugging him after a mission, playfully shoving him as you joked around. Before you knew it, you were laying your heads on each other's shoulders when you sat side by side.

Your first kiss was slow. Your hands cupping his cheeks, guided his face to yours and for a moment, as your noses brushed, you could feel his breath against your lips. His eyelashes brushed against your cheek as you hummed, then his lips were on yours.

It wasn't hungry- no. There was none of that carnal desire or devouring. Instead it was thirsty, desperate. He reached for your lips as if they held the last drop of water in a barren desert and held you close like you'd evaporate if he didn't. Your lips dragged painfully slow against his until he reached to meet you.

Cheek and forehead kisses are a hallmark of your relationship.

As much as he absolutely adores kissing your lips and making out with you, those kisses are simply so pure that they held such a sacred place in his heart. No one gave him those before you.

Before you left to go anywhere, you'd find him in his little reading nook, brush his hair from his face and kiss his cheek from behind.

Even after months of dating he'd still blush after you did that and touch his skin to make sure it was real.

"I love you." You said.

And sometimes he'd catch your hand before you turned to go, pulling you in for a kiss on the lips.

"I love you too." And he always said it with a smile.

Bob doesn't hold hands in the traditional way out in public, but he does lace his fingers with yours. Your palms aren't touching but your digits remain interlocked, leaving him room to run his thumb along your hand.

He's not big on PDA. It makes him self conscious, not because he's not proud of you because he is, but because it feels as if he's putting his heart on display. Although Bob knows those from his past aren't around anymore to hurt him, it's a lasting scar that isn't healed so easily.

For my self-conscious girls, I mean this so genuinely, I don't think Bob has a physical type whatsoever. If you were a curvier women and felt insecure about in comparison to him and his physique he wouldn't even be able to comprehend it because to him you hung the stars in the sky. You're ethereal and anyone who tried to take that from you because of something as silly as your weight, or hair or nose is ridiculous. You're a goddess in his eyes.

Like, being insecure is reserved for him and him only. If you started speaking poorly about yourself he wouldn't even be able to stand listening to it and would probably cup your face in his hands and kiss you to make you stop

Is a big-time cuddler. Bob's favorite way to fall asleep is tucked in your arms. Although, that wouldn't last for long because he runs hot and once he was unconscious he'd toss and turn, kicking all the sheets to the end of the bed. He'd only cuddle you once more when he woke in the morning.

NSFW

Now, as I mentioned earlier I don't think he has a lengthy relationship history, however, I do believe that he's had sex before.

Most of the other times Bob had sex he was high and doesn't really remember much, which only makes this moment with you even more significant- and a bit anxiety inducing. With a high, he wasn't as worried about how he did or how he felt. Now, he was hyperaware of all of his inadequacies.

I think he's submissive or vanilla. The only time he's dominant during sex is if he's bolstered by the sentry persona and as we know, that may lead to the void so it is a VERY rare occurrence.

And when I say vanilla, that doesn't mean boring or satisfactory. Bob feels everything so strongly that his love for you would almost be overwhelming for him. You were just intoxicating. His kisses are so deep and soft it makes his head spin.

Loves being called a good boy.

I just imagine sex with him either being the definition of lovemaking: slow, passionate, raw.

Or, so giggly.

He's also a munch. What?? Who said that?? He may be sober but he gets drunk on the taste of you all the same.

He adores looking at you. To him, it's almost the only way. He has needs, sure, but what makes it so special and otherworldly is the love he has for you.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・inbox・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

this is by no means a comprehensive list and I would love to revisit these ideas more. if you have more headcanons you'd like to see my inbox is open

[awrkive]

summary: where you and jungkook love to play the push and pull game

w/c: 4.7k

warnings/misc: idol!jk x (fem)producer!reader. the usual. mean words being exchanged to each other in the name of banter 😕 they dk how to be nice to e/o and i enjoy writing that way too much methinks. explicit sexual content (penetrative s*x, unprotected s*x, c*wgirl position, d*ggy, shower s*x, cre*mpie, dirty talk) idk what happened but there is angst here

note: due to popular demand here is pt 2 🤩🤩 i actually kinda have more ideas for this universe tbh and would love to go thru with it but it def depends so dont expect anything!! anywho. hope u enjoy!!!!! its unedited tho will fix later

index: part 1 | pt. 2

jeon jk. (bighit) [10:25pm]: im stressed i need to eat you out  jeon jk. (bighit) [10:50pm]: whats taking u so long to answer?  jeon jk. (bighit) [10:58pm]: will it kill you to reply

you [11:31pm]: shut up i just got off class 

jeon jk. (bighit) [11:32pm]: who gets off class at 12 fucking midnight  jeon jk. (bighit) [11:33pm]: are you fucking ur professor again jeon jk. (bighit) [11:36pm]: who was that. kim namjin. the lame ass linguistics prpfessor

you [11:40pm]: kim namjoon* and if im fucking him again whats it to you?  you [11:40pm]: hes not lame and hes got a bigger dick than you 

jeon jk. (bighit) [11:41pm]: yeah by like 0.05 inch. 

you [11:43pm]: if thats what makes you sleep at night ig 

jeon jk. (bighit) [11:44pm]: funny bcs who did you come back to after all that? def not namjan

you [11:46pm]: only bcs u send me stupid shit like “im stressed need to eat u out” when u dont get to fuck me 

jeon jk. (bighit) [11:46pm]: youre infuriating as hell

you [11:46pm]: I literally do not care. 

Your doorbell rings for the second time. Rolling your eyes, you let out a loud sigh and drop your highlighter on your book, dragging your feet to the doorway and opening it against your will. 

“What the fuck took so long?” Is what Jungkook welcomes you with, taking off his black mask aggressively and stepping inside the threshold without you even inviting him inside.

You lock the door again, watching as Jungkook expertly navigates the space of your apartment, used to the way he heads to the kitchen with ease where he places the – you noticed it just now – bags of take-out on the counter. 

“I told you, I can’t get into anything right now. I have to study for a test.” You cross your arms under your chest, following him. You stop by the counter across Jungkook, looking at him as he opens your fridge to get a bottle of water. 

He’s worn all black from head to toe for obvious reasons because you live downtown and near Gangnam, and there’s no way nobody would recognize him if he didn’t get into any disguise. 

Jungkook turns to you once he’s chugged the rest of the drink, leaning onto the counter, brow raised as he says, “Who said we have to get into anything right now?” 

You shoot him a mirrored look.

“We only see each other for sex. And we can’t have sex tonight. I need to spell it out for you?” 

Jungkook doesn’t say anything. Instead, he gestures to the food on the counter and begins shrugging off his leather jacket and cap. 

“Eat. You look pale.” 

“Jungkook—”

He furrows his brows. “Is it that time of the month? Why are you so mouthy more than usual?” 

“Fuck off.” You flip him off which makes him chuckle. It takes you aback a little. 

“See. You’re irritable because you haven’t eaten yet. So what if you have to study? Eat first. I’ll help you with your flashcards later, then we’ll have sex. Easy.” 

“Who are you and why are you telling me what to do?” You bite back.

“Because you’ll probably die at 27 if I wasn’t constantly reminding you of eating your meals,” Jungkook shrugs and starts tearing off the tapes on the take-out food. “And you like having sex with me. So.” You purse your lips, making a small scoffing sound, prompting Jungkook to glance at you. “Yeah?” He quirks a brow with a hint of a smile on his lips.

You frown. “You’re cocky.” 

“You get me hard when we argue. Save it for later.” He says, as if chastising you and redirecting your attention again to the food. 

You roll your eyes again, annoyed that there’s a weird feeling in your stomach about the whole exchange and your mouth muscles are itching to curl up a little at his… stupidity. It irritates you, the way Jungkook goes through life in an easy-going way because he knows exactly who he is. 

You almost let out a moan as you start digging in the chicken he bought, feeling relieved to finally have something. Jungkook was only half-exaggerating when he said he had to tell you to eat, because most of the time you really forget all about it.

Today was one of those days… you didn’t have to clock in at the company on Fridays but your classes go from 5 to 9pm which drains the hell out of you. Waking up midday means not bothering to eat… and aside from the bagel and coffee you grabbed at the cafe earlier, you haven’t consumed real food. 

“I don’t like this.” you suddenly say. 

“What?”

You look up at him. He still looks weird. 

“That.” you point at his general direction. He raises a brow, growing confused. “You look happy. I’m not sure if I like that.”

“Ouch.” 

You can’t help yourself. You laugh at his completely blank face. Cutting yourself off completely, you clear your throat.

“It’s weird. Why?” 

“I smile and it just… what? Ruins your day?” 

“Yeah.” 

Jungkook laughs out loud. “You’re infuriating.” 

You hum, weirdly satisfied with that.

Jungkook has been over your apartment many times because as much as his place is way nicer, you don’t like going there. Too risky, too many eyes. Too… scary. You know Jungkook improves his security every three months, as sad as it sounds, but still. You don’t feel comfortable going there, probably why you refused to use the keycard he’s given you. You do fuck a lot in your studio, though, or in the empty rooms over at the company, but when you’re not, Jungkook and you drive here. It’s almost safe to assume that Jungkook knows this place already like the back of his hand.

Probably because whatever the hell this is between you has been going on for eight months now.

After Jungkook and you inhaled every last bit of the food (because he was apparently starving as well), true to his words, he actually did help you study a bit. But that didn’t really last when Jungkook suddenly had his fingers in you thirty minutes later. 

One moment you were talking about phonological change and sound laws, the next thing you know, you’re cumming on his fingers, while Jungkook sits on the edge of your bed frantically helping you straddle him. Meanwhile, half of your clothes are forming a heap on the floor as you heavily make out with each other. 

“F-fuck,”

Jungkook sighs when the tip of his cock finally enters your pussy as you slowly push down on him, thighs clenching at the way he’s stretching you out. 

You gasp when you fully sit on him, open mouths breathing against each other. 

“Oh, fuck, you’re so b-big–”

And you might never really get used to it, no matter how many times you do it.

You let out a shaky moan when you feel Jungkook’s dick twitching inside you, opening your eyes only to see him already staring right at you. 

“You okay to move?” He rasps, the veins in his arms telling you he’s trying to hold back. 

You nod eagerly, placing your palms on his shoulders and preparing yourself to go up. Your slick from the foreplay doesn’t make the stretch of his cock fully burn, making it a little easier for you to slide out and bounce back down on him until you’re repeating the movement faster, with Jungkook taking a hold of of your breasts, squeezing the flesh tightly in his huge palms. He groans, leaning down to capture your nipples, biting the pearls a little too rough you whimper a little too loud. 

“O-oh—! Not too rough, Jeon.” You whine, grabbing the back of his head. Jungkook looks at you with brows raised, rightfully confused ‘cause you usually like it when he’s rough with you. You bite your lip, continuing to ride him. “Just a little sensitive. My period’s next week.” 

Jungkook nods understandingly, squeezing your chest again, quite apologetically might you say so. He licks over a nipple, this time considerably more gentle with it. 

“How’s this for a studying session?” 

“N-not bad,” You bite your lip when you feel your thighs quivering, already starting to run out of breath, digging your nails in Jungkook’s shoulders. His hands travel down to your hips, where he grips it tight and starts guiding your ministration, literally bouncing you up and down on him. “Ahh– fuck.” you moan, shutting your eyes close at the delicious sensation of his engorged cock touching every part of your pussy. 

You’re dripping on him, both of your bated breaths filling your room as he picks up your own pace. 

“You – fuck – enjoy riding my cock like this?” He suddenly cups your jaw, making you look at him. The sides of your eyes sting with unshed tears, whimpering when his dick slips out of you when you try to go down again. Both of you look at it, with Jungkook quickly helping you put it back in, moaning in unison when it enters you again. You tighten your grip on him, soft sighs falling out of your mouth. But Jungkook suddenly lets out a quiet tsk, looking at you with furrowed brows as he says, “Answer me.” 

“Y-you know.” you say, mirroring his look. You start rocking back and forth instead, heightening the pleasure. 

With the way Jungkook’s face contorts, you know the new movement feels just as good for him. 

But he suddenly thrusts from under you, grabbing the back of your hair – the stretch on your scalp didn’t hurt, but it’s enough to make you gasp.

“Why do you gotta be such a fuckin’ brat, huh?” Jungkook groans, guiding your face closer to his. “You act like this around— who’s that guy again? Professor Kim?” 

You bite your lip to prevent yourself from smiling at that. You knew he was gonna bring that up one way or another. You and Professor Kim fucked that one time — okay maybe two times when Jungkook and you had this weird cool-off thing going on four months ago, and he made sure to remind you of it every singe chance he got. 

“No,” you firmly say, leveling him with a look, still keeping your pace on his cock. “He likes it when I’m a good girl.” 

Jungkook’s expression darkens, and you moan when his grip on your hair tightens. 

“You’re far from a good girl, sweetheart. But he wouldn’t know that ‘cause he only got to fuck you twice.”

“Y-yeah? You sure it’s not more tha—” 

Jungkook cuts you off with a hot, angry kiss. Your teeth cling together, and with the aggressive way he inserts his tongue into you unprompted, you know he’s getting a little heated. 

It’s juvenile, but you take a little pride in how much it's so easy for you to piss him off. 

But one second you’re sharing a searing kiss, the next moment you feel a sting on your bottom lip. 

“Oh—! What the fuck!” You push Jungkook away so hard he unceremoniously plops down on the mattress, bringing you down with him. You manage to support yourself with his hard chest, looking at him with bewildered eyes, touching your bottom lip. The fucker just bit it. 

Jungkook lets himself rest against the mattress, gripping your thighs instead. 

“He’s fucking weird for fucking his student, by the way.” he says, apparently still not done talking about Kim Namjoon. His hands have made their way from your legs to your breasts, but you whisk them away, shooting him a glare.

“You’re a dick,” you jab at his chest, making him let out a slightly pained “Oh!”, soon exchanged with a grunt of pleasure when you reach for his cock behind you to sit on it again, grinding against it. You lean on his chest, keeping your daggers on him. “You can say whatever you want but you can’t blame Prof Kim for fucking his student.” 

Jungkook immediately scoffs. Because you refuse to have anything to do with his hands, he crosses them under his head, eyes casting a glance down where you meet, darkening when you roll your hips against him deliciously.

“He’s a person in power. That gotta be unethical.” 

You roll your eyes almost automatically. 

“So you wouldn’t fuck me if I was your student, then?” you raise your brow, taking note of the obvious surprise coloring Jungkook’s face. 

But he quickly shuts it down with a smug response.

“I would just have to look at other professors to fuck. Especially at SNU? Have you seen the women professors there?” There’s a bite to it, and the smirk on his lips heighten that. Like he’s telling you he has way more options than you – and those options can come easy for him. If he wants to. 

“See how you’re not fucking any one of them? Exactly.” you retort. 

Jungkook snorts. “I don’t have to,” He removes his hands from his head. “Besides, I fucked Hana before in a professor outfit. Does that count?” 

You grit your teeth together at the mention of Hana. She’s a friend of yours, also an idol like Jungkook. You actually do have a lot of friends in the industry, and coincidentally, Jungkook has fucked most of them. 

“What’s the matter? Don't like the reminder that much?” Jungkook grins. “I remember Jiyeon being in the same position as you now. She really loves riding my dick. Kind of like you. You two really are friends, huh?” 

Kim Jiyeon, a member of a famous group in the country. Another one of your friends and one of Jungkook’s on and off hook-ups too. You don’t know if they still do it from time to time – as far as you know, they ended just as you two began. But you don’t ask either, don’t really care at all. 

But it’s funny since you remember him saying awhile ago he hasn’t fucked anybody other than you in a long time. Was that a lie? 

“Sure. Don’t feel special though, I rode Jaehyun exactly this way. Went at it for hours because my pussy just gets so wet for him.” 

You relish the fact that Jungkook’s smile immediately falls off his face when you say that. But that victory only lasted for a brief moment when he spoke his next words. 

“You have a dirty mouth on you, I’ll give you that. Shin’s was dirtier, though. Gives crazy head too.” 

You don’t really know why he’s mentioning all your idol friends, but fine. If he wants to play that game, you’ll give it to him. 

“Don’t you just love a crazy head? Mingyu gave me one when we finally went out on a date, and I still think about it,” You made sure to grind against his cock painfully slowly, making a show of moaning out loud. “Oh god,”

Thankfully, that shuts Jungkook up. 

“So he did ask you out.” Jungkook says, and it sounds so… firm. You can’t even recognize the look on his face. 

“Yes.” 

He goes quiet after that, but his hands on your waist are tight. 

Like nothing happened, you continue riding him – and maybe because you talked too much that the momentum got killed, but suddenly, you stop your ministration.

Jungkook’s brows furrow, about to say something. Just as when he opens his mouth to speak, you get off him, leaving him astounded on your bed with his dick still stiff and hard against his abdomen.

“What the hell?” 

“I’m going to take a shower.” you say nonchalantly, already heading to your bathroom. 

“Seriously?” Jungkook says, the disbelief in his tone palpable. “I’m still hard and I haven’t even cum yet.” 

You look back at him. “You can take care of that.” 

Jungkook gestures with his hand. “Are you fucking kidding– you’re serious?”

You turn away and go straight to the bathroom, locking the door and immediately turning the shower on – aggressively so.

You’re not mad, is what you tell yourself. You know you started it when you goaded Jungkook about Namjoon. But you also shouldn’t have taken the bait, because Jungkook is competitive in all areas that affects his huge, dumb ego. 

Well, fuck him. Figuratively this time. You can’t believe you let him in your place tonight. You can’t even fucking remember what you were reading earlier, because his stupid horny brain decided it was okay to finger you when you were memorizing the mor—

“What the—!” 

You look at Jungkook in shock when he suddenly barges in the shower, all naked just like you and goes under the stream too, looking just as pissed as you left him.

“I know where you keep your keys and you can’t just walk out on me like that,” He turns off the shower and you’re about to complain when he suddenly looks at you again, brows furrowing and tone a little dark when he says, “So what? You play this little I’m-fucking-other-people-and-not-just-you games on me every fucking time and expect me to just take it? When I decide to ride along you get a little pissy and act like a child?” 

Your jaw slacks, not expecting the call-out. Jungkook steps closer to you, heavy footsteps sounding like a ticking clock above your head. You’ve always known he’s muscly, and much much taller and bigger than you, but his presence especially looms over you when he’s obviously heated like this.

Your backward steps are futile when he only takes steps forward, until you feel the glass wall on your back. 

Jungkook follows, and even though his hands are wet from the water, warmth spread through your body when he takes you roughly by the waist.

“Now you have nothing to say because you know I’m right,” he rasps. You whimper when he presses his body to you, his dick flatly rigid against your stomach, the tip aching red when you glance down to look at it. Jungkook clicks his tongue against his cheek, cupping your cheek to redirect your face to him. “Turn around.” 

He doesn’t even bother hearing you out, just manhandles you around himself. You suppress a moan when he rests his dick against the cleft of your ass, his body heat spreading within you when he leans down to whisper in your ear, “You know what’s funny? Your mouth looks adorably small when it’s stuffed with my cock, but it sure is big enough when you run it just to piss me off.” 

Your thighs clench at his words. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you look back at him. “S-so what are you gonna do about it?” 

Jungkook raises a brow. “The best option is to put my dick in it but you’d be way too happy with that.” 

You roll your eyes. “You’re so full of yourself—” 

“God, can you shut up for even just a minute?”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes again.

“Can you just fuck me and get this whole thing over with?” 

You don’t expect the slap in your ass that comes after that. Looking back at Jungkook with a gasp, you’re about to voice out a complaint when he suddenly inserts a finger in you, cutting your train of thought. 

He slowly eases out of your pussy, but shoves his digit back in, settling with a steady pace in and out. 

“Look at you, you’re a cockslut. You like when I’m mean to you, that’s why you piss me off, right?” He says, nibbling on your ear. 

You whimper when he adds another finger, moaning at the sensation. Jungkook picks up his pace, and your lewd sounds bounce off the shower stall as you start feeling the hot coil in your stomach. 

“J-jungkook,” 

“Hm?” 

“I want– more.” You say, looking at him with your mouth agape, tears forming in the sides of your eyes. Your thighs feel like giving out, and you feel so empty even though he’s two fingers in it’s almost criminal. 

“Say it. What do you want?” 

You fight the urge to flip him off, but your tone is still snarky when you simply say, “Dick.”

He chuckles, sending shivers down your spine. “Whose dick? And what’s the magic word?” 

You shut your eyes close, grinding your teeth in quiet anger.

“Your dick and please.” You say in the most monotonous voice you could ever muster. 

You fully expectd Jungkook to prolong the moment a little longer, but fucking finally, you see him stroking his dick a few moments later, shaking his head and chuckling lowly when he adjusts your position against his crotch. 

“You whine and I give you what you want. Aren’t you too spoiled, princess?” He says, aligning the head to your oussy until you feel the tip slowly entering you. 

You inhale, relief of having his cock back inside you washing over you. 

“Y-you love giving me what I want.” You retort back, pushing yourself on him, careful to keep a tight balance on the glass before you even though Jungkook’s got a tight hold on your waist with his other hand. 

He only hums, and soon he thrusts inside with no warning – but it’s a pleasant stretch when it happens, a loud moan escaping your mouth from the sudden movement. 

“O-oh god!” you yelp when he begins sliding in out of you at a fast pace, gushing as he kept on giving it to you.

You try to keep your voice low but Jungkook’s stretching you out so well, his thrusts so precise and forceful, dick growing impossibly bigger every passing second. 

Soon, the cramped shower stall is fogged, with nothing but your heavy breaths and moans and groans filling the air, Jungkook beating your pussy with speedy trusts your breasts are starting to hurt from the jiggling – thank god that Jungkook decided to fondle them with his palms, squeezing and holding, flicking your nipples every now and then. 

“It’s–shit–it’s only me who gets to see you like this, begging for my cock because you fucking love it so much,” Jungkook says against your neck. “So fucking wet, such greedy pussy – and it’s mine, right?” You only whimper, but that obviously does not make Jungkook happy. With a forceful tug on your hair, he makes you look at him. “Answer me when I talk to you, baby, or you’re not gonna cum.” 

“Y-yes!” 

He hums, slowing down to give you a slow, purposeful trust. 

“I don’t care who else you fuck, __. Because at the end of the day, it’s me you come back to.” 

You could almost cry by the way he’s going so slow that you feel almost every ridge of his cock, but it feels so good. He’s so big and hits all the right spots, even when he talks shit.  

“Shit.” he hisses before speeding up again, and you can feel fhe tell tale sign of his orgasm when his rhythym becomes uncoordinated for a bit of a moment, groaning a little loider than usual, until one of his hands on your waist let go to squeeze his dick in your pussy.

“I’m gonna cum,” Jungkook says with heavy breaths, staggering a little. “Where can I cum?”

“Inside.” you say, “Please cum inside. I need it, Kook. Cum inside me.”

“Yeah?”

“Y-yeah. Please. Need it. Need it so bad.” you bite your lip, feeling a little delirious. 

When Jungkook moans a little louder, that’s when you feel the hot liquid running down your legs. It makes your pussy flutter, whimpering when Jungkook inserts his cock in you to push his cum back again, stuffing you with his cum. 

“So damn pretty… fuck,” Jungkook whispers, rubbig the base of his cock against your lips. 

“Kook–”

He doesn’t let you say any more, just creeps his finger in your pussy, thumb rubbing your clit in eights. And because you’ve been basically edged as well, it doesn’t take too long for you to follow him, cumming down hard. 

Jungkook helps you get up, lets you rest your back against him as you try to regain your mobility, chest heaving up and down.

It’s weirdly calming when he runs his hands over your body, caressing your stomach and squeezing your tits as you both come down from your high. 

“You okay?” Jungkook whispers against your head. You nod. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it.” 

You’re about to ask if he plans on showering as well, but you stop yourself before you can even say it out loud, looking at his disappearing figure when he walks out of the shower box and the bathroom altogether. 

It takes you a moment to start the shower again. 

But it was only a quick one, and you didn’t exactly think about where Jungkook would’ve gone by the time you're finished, but once you’ve emerged in your bedroom again, you see him pulling up his pants, buckling his belt. 

“You’re leaving?” You say, pausing. Then you realize it came out kind of weird, so you try to scratch that. Glancing at your alarm clock by the bedside table, you clear your throat. “I mean, it’s 3 am.” 

Jungkook looks up at you. “Yeah. I have practice at 6.” 

“Ah.” you nod, blinking at him. You head to your closet, picking out your clothes for the night. “You have three hours left. Tough.” 

Jungkook snorts. You can hear him shuffling behind you while you wore another clean camisole and shorts. When you turn around, Jungkook’s dressed now in his black shirt and jeans. His cap and jacket are in the living room, so he'll probably just grab them when he heads out. 

When you plop down on the bed, you watch as Jungkook picks up his wallet and his phone, stuffing them in his pockets. You thought he’d leave by then, but he suddenly speaks. 

“Hey.” He calls. You raise your brow at him to continue. Jungkook pauses for a moment, looking a bit unsure. Before you can ask, he finally says something. “You can fuck Kim Namjoon or whoever you like,” he starts, staring intently at you. “Just tell me beforehand so we can sort it out.” 

A few beats. 

Jungkook doesn’t follow it up with anything, and nor do you say anything quickly to that. 

The silence sounds way too loud. 

“Okay.” Is what you settle with. Jungkook stares at you a little longer than necessary, so you arch your brow. “What? Anything else before you leave?” 

It takes Jungkook awhile to say, “Nothing.” 

“Okay… and uh, thanks for bringing food.” 

He arches a brow, lips curling up a little. You squint your eyes, rolling it when he gives you a knowing smile. 

“Good night, I guess?” Jungkook lamely offers. 

You nod. “It’s 3 am but okay.”

“You can’t tell me good night, too?” Jungkook says. 

“Uh, have a good sleep and sweet dreams?” you say with the flattest tone and face. 

He scoffs, but he looks amused. “You can be a little more sincere than that.” 

You wave him off. Jungkook shakes his head, turning on his heels to head out the door. 

“Jungkook.” 

His hands around the door handle pauses mid-air to look at you. 

You look away. 

“Mingyu did ask me out,” you start. 

Jungkook’s face is unreadable when he says, “I didn’t ask.”

You shake your head. “No, I know you didn't, I just–” you sigh. “That was a week ago. I just want to say that… nothing happened.” 

It takes awhile for Jungkook to understand. 

“So…”

You lied. About the head or whatever the hell you said about Mingyu and you together. Mingyu was a nice guy, and the date was also really nice. But it just… didn’t work out. 

“Yeah.” is what you settled with. 

You don’t really know what you expected from him, but he just nods. 

“Alright.” 

That was the last thing he said when he walked out of your door. 

You look away, grabbing your phone to check some notification. There’s something on instagram, and there’s a message from Yoongi. Some mp3 file. Music stuff, you guess. And there’s one from Yena too, a member of a rookie female group over at the company who’s getting into songwriting. 

When you lie down to sleep, you feel empty.

[tonycries]

Girl, You Earned It!

Synopsis. Just the típ? Don’t make him laugh.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, “just the típ” trope, REALLY pússydrunk boys, marathon séx, cúmplay, semi-exhíbitionism (Nanami’s), bréeding, Geto’s rings omg, Geto’s a bit mean, creampíe, spítting, FÉRAL Gojo, best friend! Choso, fírst times (Choso’s), chokíng, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.4k

A/N. Smooches to that one anon for inspiring this. Hope y’all have a lovely week <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Handle it.

It was a familiar little song and dance - Toji’s favorite one at that. 

It’s around his fourth orgasm that night, head thrown back against the pillows to watch with a lewd little leer at the way you’re stuttering your limp hips down, down, down his long, swollen cock. Those glossy lips of yours sagging open to whine, “Too full, Toji! C-can’t ngh- handle it-”

Ah, it never gets old. 

Toji finds his brows knitting together in mock concern, cooing in a baritone voice, “Awww, my girl’s poor pussy can’t handle it?” 

At your bleary nod, he snakes a hand down as if to confirm, thumbing apart your puffy folds. All quivering and glistening with his seed in the dim lighting, “She’s too full? Too stuffed to take  hah- even my tip?”

Without any warning, you feel long, thick fingers splay out across your lower stomach. Pushing down - hard to make your poor cunt gush all around him. Coating his aching cock with a sheen of the cum he’d stuffed inside not so long ago. “There we go.” he breathes, sounding so utterly smug, ‘We have space now, right?“

“Oh, fuck yes- Toji– fuck fuck fuck-”

“Shhh shhh, s’alright. And since m’feeling so nice, I promise s’gonna be jus- hah- jus’ the tip.” he grins, eyes so greedy and crazed when he looks down at the way you’re sucking him up so greedily. Your pussy lips bulging around the top of his thick head. “M’kay?”

And Toji’s cock was already so big - so rock-hard - that no matter how much he’d split you apart on his cock before, just his fat head squeezing past your sloppy entrance feels like he’s pushing all the way into your lungs. Your hazy brain. 

Fucking out every coherent thought out of you with each shallow grind up into your gummy walls just to fit inside. Slow, languid - just teasing you. 

“Hah- couldn’t ‘handle me’ my ass.” he’s spitting out from underneath you, mean fingers holding your precarious body still for him to pummel into. “The fuck are you hngh- doing now then, huh? Taking me so well.” 

An embarrassed mewl is being ripped from your throat when that little divot on the end of Toji’s cock is brushing against your sweet spots. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head when you realize that he’s just barely managed to squeeze his tip into your tight pussy, “I-I ngh-”

To which his palm comes down with a sharp smack! on the fat of your ass. 

“Jus’ the tip n’ you already can’t hah- speak?” he grins up at you, painful cock twitching with delight when you clench around him at the sting. Loving this slow, agonizing torture for the both of you. “Use your words properly, doll.”

You huff, nails digging into Toji’s plush pecs to stabilize yourself on top of him. “Thought I was too- hah- full. Thought I couldn’t handle havin’ you inside me again.”

“Heh- well what did I t-tell, ya?” he grunts, hips still thrusting - still pushing in mindless, semi-thrusts up. Wondering if you could feel his cum sloshing around inside you like he could. “As if I don’t know my girl’s pussy- As if I can’t handle this p-pussy. As if this pussy can’t handle me-” 

One hand dances back down to push further against your front. Dredging up every last glob of his seed down your sloppy cunt, forming a creamy ring at his base that he groans at. “Y’can handle it now, right?” The other glides the pads of his fingers across your needy clit, making you arch your body down in surprise. His cock slipping deeper down your pussy, “Fuuuuck yeah, you can definitely handle it now.”

“Toji.” you let out a warning. Your already-ravaged cunt so sensitive. Fingers tightening to leave neat little marks of red down his sculpted skin, “Thought you p-promised it was jus’ gonna be the ah- tip.”

Because his movements were getting deeper. Dangerous. 

Still shallow - but purposeful enough that you were sliding way past “just his tip”. And you could feel that sinfully prominent vein from about halfway down his shaft massaging against your sweet spots. 

Yet Toji only flashes you a devilish grin, no trace of guilt anywhere. Eyes half-lidded and devouring your adorable pout. “I did.” Giving you just barely enough time to relax before the hand firm on your stomach rests at your waist. Pulling - dragging you all the way down his massive cock. Tugged down like such a slut until he was buried balls-deep, your puffy folds kissing his hilt, your pelvis grinding against those tufts of black at his. “For now, that is.”

Ah, this is his favorite part.

He doesn’t waste even a second before making use of those muscled hips, giving you one, long thrust to haul your slobbering cunt all the way from the very end of his fat head down until he physically couldn’t anymore. 

Bruising. Fully. Fucking every false complaint out of you when his cock is finally hitting the back of your needy pussy. 

“Think s’time for you to handle all of me now, doll.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - “Are you muted?”

Nanami Kento hated working overtime. And he especially hated having to sit at home on his desk, sighing during those droning online meetings which really could’ve been a five-minute conversation at work on Monday.

Which is where you came in.

“Mhm, of course m’muted, my love. Camera’s also off.” he answers your previous question with a slow, sensual drawl into your ear. Thumb gliding across your puffy cunt as he echoes patiently for the first time that hour, “But if you’re gonna be here then you better behave, my love.” Bouncing his knee to shuffle your quivering body where it was perched so prettily on his lap - and his aching, rock-hard cock. “Any deeper than the tip and you hngh- know how s’gonna end.”

A promise. 

But it’s been like this for so long now - too long, you think.

Your gummy walls squeeze desperately at that sensitive slit on Nanami’s length, lapping at his weeping precum. Wrists tugging uselessly where he’d tied them together behind your back with his familiar yellow tie. “But Ken, I really want-”

“I know I know, darling.” he presses a gentle kiss to the side of your pouty lips. Hushing those cute, whiny cries of yours that make his swollen cock twitch wildly, balls squeezing so painfully with the sweet sweet temptation to just stuff your tight pussy full. “But if I-”

“Nanami, have you completed the progress report for the client tomorrow?”

Instantly, your husband is in work mode, clearly his ragged voice lightly before hitting the Unmute button. “Yes, Higuruma I’ve…”

But oh his actions were anything but. 

Free hand still drawing quick, methodical circles on your clit - just daring you to make a noise while he continues so unfairly with the meeting as if nothing is happening. His deep voice rumbling in his chest with satisfaction, and yet you’re left helpless and aching for more.

“But Ken.” you breathe into his ear, just low enough that the microphone couldn’t pick up. Pushing past the vice-like hold that he had on your hips to seat his delicious cock further and further inside your gummy walls. “Wan’ more. Please, I’ve been patient for so long.”

“-and the charts from last week I’ll have to email.” Nanami rattles off, all business-like, the authoritative tone sending your cunt beading your juices all down his already-soaked cock. Hardened eyes brushing briefly against yours, though he still addresses his business partner, “I’ll make sure to take care of that later.”

And fuck the shivers this sends down your spine have you trembling in Nanami’s practised touch. 

Bucking your hips needily into his hand, your slick leaves a lewd little sheen all over his palm, his wrist, all the way down to that metal wrist watch digging into your skin.

“T-take care of it now, Ken.” you’re mewling stubbornly, fighting against those restraints. 

Letting your pussy lips fuck back into his thick cock. Deeper. Needier. Sucking him up so good that he’s letting go of your hips to mute himself again.

And fuck if you weren’t going to take the opportunity to just slam yourself down Nanami’s massive length, all the way until you could feel his abs against your ass. That little divot on his thick head smashing against your sweet spots, molding your plushy walls to the shape of his entire cock. 

“O-oh fuck.” he breathes, words cracking ever-so-slightly at the end. “The meeting- thought I said just the- hah you’re gonna be the death of me, my love.”

Before you can respond, Higuruma’s chuckling from behind the screen, cutting through the heady air in the room. “Heh, guess you’ve had enough of this since you’re already muted Nanami. Fair enough, I’ve kept you long enough.” 

And the words ring in the air, Nanami’s eyes unwavering from his laptop. Turned crazed as he looks to you, a hand already beginning to shut the screen.

“You’re free to go, make up your time with the wife or somethi-”

Slamming it closed. 

Followed shortly by you - being slammed onto the ground. Nanami’s hand underneath your face, cushioning the impact when you’re shoved face-first. Him mounting on you in a split second, strong thighs flexing with the effort to fuck you right there right then into the hardwood floor. Depraved. Animalistic. 

Not faltering for even a moment when he’s pulling you back by the tie digging into your wrists, sure to leave marks. Using the moment to watch the way your ass ripples every time he’s ramming into you. 

“Ken- fuck! Kento-” you sob like a mantra when he hikes up a leg of his to hit all those angles that have him bruising your sweet spots. Thrusts long, hard. Not leaving a single spot inside your gummy cunt untouched. “S’too good too good too good- hah- wan’ed this for so long since you were on that meeting. So hngh- close.”

“M-me too.” Nanami responds, sounding nothing like the put-together business man he was a few moments ago. Almost crazed now. Unpredictable. 

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same. 

All it takes are a few filthy, nasty strokes of his sensitive cock into your snug pussy, of his fingers toying and teasing your clit - and then you’re cumming so fucking hard around him. 

Your walls sucking him in a smooth staccato like you were trying to milk the fucking soul out of Nanami while he drills into you through the pleasure. Not even thinking twice before spilling into your greedy pussy himself. 

Thick, creamy spurts of cum that warm you from the inside out. Reaching all those hidden spots inside while he pumps it deeper and deeper.

“Oh, my love.” Nanami groans when he pools the seed dribbling out of your cunt with ease. Making a mess of your pussy down below, of that creamy ring at his hilt. “Don’t think m’done making up for my overtime yet.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Battle of wills

“Awww.” you hear Geto’s deep voice cooing softly in your ear. Running his mouth smugly - as if he wasn’t just smashing the angry, soaked tip of his cock into you right now. “You can’t even talk right now. You can’t even breathe.”

Fuck, if it was any less true then you might’ve argued - maybe spat out a hissy little comment. 

But, instead, you’re managing out a wet gurgle, Geto’s thick, ringed fingers tightening where they were wrapped prettily around your neck. “I-I-”

The other draws languid, torturous circles on your sensitive clit, just as teasing as the way his hips were just barely pushing past your sopping wet slit. Nudging your honeyed walls with only his fat head. “What was that, gorgeous?”

“I said.” you gasp, when your beloved boyfriend mercifully lets his grip loosen ever-so-slightly to let you answer. “I- I’m going to win the bet, Sugu.”

Ah, the bet. That stupid, thoughtless little challenge you’d posed just a few hours ago about who’d break first if Geto was to fuck your tight pussy with just his tip. 

Who knew it would end up with your face pushed into the silky covers of your pillow, both of you barely-lucid and losing your minds as Geto pounded into you as much as he allowed himself to? Both your pathetic prides holding back, just waiting for the other to break first.

Geto’s voice was tinged with amusement, something so dark and mellow as he purrs against the shell of your ear. Cold metal rings digging into your flesh, you choke. “Well then…” His sinful abs flex ominously against your back, “-we’ll just have to see, right?”

“H-hey!” you gasp for air when he slams his hips forwards, letting your dripping cunt envelope him all the way down to that wide rim of his slit. 

“What?” he muses in response, circles speeding up and so so messy on your sensitive nub now. “S’jus’ the tip right? Exactly what I did. I’m-” Before moving again, in sultry, purposeful rolls of his slutty hips back and forth. “-not gonna be the hah- one losing this bet.”

Fuck, you’d forgotten how competitive your boyfriend was - always going easy, until he decided he wanted to win.

Geto’s eyes flit between his fingers, blocking your airway, and the wide wide rim of your sloppy entrance being stretched upon his thick head. 

Shit, the sight itself was heavenly enough that it had him almost second-guessing his resolve and stuffing you full like he wanted to. Almost. 

“Close to surrender?” he’s panting out when a few more shallow, teasing half-strokes has your gummy walls clenching around him like you’re trying to drag out something delicious. Exactly the way he loves - exactly the way he’s addicted to. And, usually, Geto would tell you over and over how much he loves it - but, this time, his ego makes him simply leave a wet trail of kisses down your arched spine. Murmuring heatedly into your ear, “No shame in ngh- giving up, y’know.”

Harder. Deeper - almost. 

Squealing airily, “M’not- m’not giving up.”

Immediately, Geto’s chuckling when he squeezes your pretty neck tighter, “M’gonna choke you harder when you lie, gorgeous. Now tell me-” Just wringing out syrupy moans of his name with each push. Each urgent flick of his fingers on your clit - not even circles anymore, fuck no he was too far gone for that now. Just messy, senseless patterns. “Y’gonna lose like my ah- p-pretty girl or am I gonna hafta keep treating you like my bitch?”

“But-” you wheeze. 

“I hngh- also really wanna fuck this cute cunt properly, y’know/”

Your vision’s blurring now, lungs straining for air. Yet you’re so cockdrunk that all you can focus on is the lewd curve of Geto’s dick, barely even realizing when your hips are trying to inch down for more. Jolting with each rub of his thumb against your clit. 

Harder. Deeper. 

“Sugu!” you’re screaming when you recklessly slam yourself back to meet his ruthless cadence. All the way back until your ass was pressing flush against the v-line jutting out from Geto’s toned pelvis. Shoving his cock so deep inside your plushy cunt it felt like his fat tip was making its mark against your lungs.

You lost - gladly. 

And for all his confidence, Geto Suguru is shocked. Half-lidded eyes flying open, teeth biting down on his lower lip so hard with the effort to hold back his disbelieving moans it was like he was trying to draw blood. 

“O-oh oh my god. Fuck fuck fuck fuck-” he shudders, jaw falling slack, swollen cock colliding in and out with your needy cunt. 

You send him a delirious half-glance, “Are you ok-”

The hand rested around your throat immediately comes down - finally letting you breathe. Only to just slam your head back down onto the pillow so you can’t see how utterly fucked he was. Keeping you still, “Just shut up and cum f’me, gorgeous.”

And oh you do - all over Geto’s pretty cock, your elastic walls molding around him to feel every ridge and bump as he fucks you through your wave of high. Hard. Fast. Sending electricity down your veins every time he hits the bullseye of your g-spot. Over and over and-

“H-hey, Sugu-” your teary face manages to look up from the pillow. Gummy walls still spasming around him, “Best out of three?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - FIRST?!

It was a simple favor, really - just a way to help your dear best friend lose his virginity.

To shut up those adorable whines about how much he dreams of feeling your- a pussy wrapped around his cock. And when he looked to you for help with those dark, puppy-dog eyes? Well, how could you ever say no?

Which is why you have Choso splayed out on your mattress, hazy gaze bulging when you straddle his toned hips. Sliding his tight boxers down his thighs - fuck, he was massive. A delicate, innocent pink at his angry head, leaking endless precum all the way down, down, down his creamy length. 

“Jus’ the tip, right?” you hum. Cunt throbbing at the sight of his swollen cock twitching up in interest at the mere sound of your sultry tone. “Jus’ to have you feel me?”

“God, yes.” he whispers - barely even audible, when you slot his leaky tip between your puffy folds. Letting your pussy drool your sweet sweet juices all over him. “Yes yes yes hurry please need to feel you- just the tip just the-” Choso’s voice breaks when you just barely press him past that first ring of resistance. “Oh- oh fuuuuck this is what it feels like? Hngh-”

The stretch of his fat head inside was so sinful. So maddening and shit- if this was what it was like with barely half of his tip in, then it drove you insane to wonder what it’d be like if you took in all of him. Smirking, “Mhm? You hah- like this, Cho?”

Fuck, hearing that little nickname right now makes Choso get even girthier, cock swelling painfully to stretch your sloppy hole.

“L-like this?” he asks, voice ragged with genuine disbelief. Barely-lucidly bringing one of your hands up to his face to press a soft, lingering kiss. “Oh, baby, I l-love this.”

He’s inching his thick head in further and further, kissing down your neck wetly. 

You’re choking when he starts up a messy, urgent rut of his hips upwards - untimed and sloppy like he didn’t know how to use his unforgiving cock yet, like he didn’t even realize what he was doing. Just bare, shallow little thrusts that have your hole stretching out and molding to the shape of his needy tip. 

Babbling, “Fuck, what’ve you done to me? How can you f-feel so good- how can you-”

Over and over and-

“O-oh, Cho!” you gasp when he accidently brushes up against one of your hidden sweet spots. Eyes going wide, jaw falling into an awestruck “oh” at as you buck and clamp down so fucking tight around him. Begging, “There- fuck fuck there wan’ more- hngh wan’ more of you, please.” 

The only response you’re getting is a string of incoherent profanity. Shit, Choso thinks he’s gonna pass out - that he might just paint your pretty pussy white already. 

But because he couldn’t stand the embarrassment of that, he wraps his big arms so tight around your waist. Running a palm to cradle your scalp, he hisses when he presses a kiss to your forehead, “Can’t.” And the word has barely left his sagging lips before Choso gives an unplanned, jagged thrust up into your cunt. Body moving before his mind to bully his swollen cock inside, spreading your puffy folds along the veins down his length. “Can’t- just the tip- shouldn’t.” 

“S’okay, Cho–”

“But-”

You were his best friend. His favorite person - and he always did feel guilty for thinking of you, cock in hand, on those long lonely nights. So this is the last thing he should be doing. 

But, oh it was like a dam had been broken open, and despite his words, Choso’s mouth is salivating at the thought. 

Pushing in sweet, desperate bucks of his hips to just drag your sloppy pussy down deeper and deeper - unknowingly, all the way down to his soaked base. Yet Choso was still pushing and pushing deliriously. 

“Just the tip just the- shouldn’t do this-” he pants against your open mouth, nipping and sucking on your bottom lips. “Only ever ngh- dreamed of this.” Each word is punctured by a rough ram into your dripping cunt, molding your gummy walls to that upwards curve of his dick. Reeling out a honeyed ah! ah! ah! from you every time his pretty veins were pulsing against your sensitive spots. “Shouldn’t ohhh I shouldn’t- fuck!”

Choso loses the end of his sentence - and his sanity - when he dares take a greedy look downwards. 

Being met with the absolutely obscene sight of your poor cunt being split apart on him. Realizing he was now very much past his tip, veering into the dangerous territory of your pussy lips kissing his toned pelvis, milking him until there was nothing more. 

“Heh.” His glassy eyes look up when you giggle, “So much for hah- ‘jus’ the tip’, huh?”

Choso grins - a languid, pussydrunk grin you never thought you could even imagine on your sweet best friend. Purring lowly, “Oh, my girl.Because of you m’never gonna be satisfied with just the tip ever again.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Please, please, please

“Apology not accepted, brat.” Sukuna spits out over your blubbering cries, still holding your squirming hips so stupidly still around his fat tip. Nothing more, nothing less. “Nuh uh, this is all yer gonna get if you wanna hah- complain so much.”

Now, Ryomen Sukuna is a strong man, always has been. He hasn’t missed those concerned looks strangers give you when he’s out in public with you, or the way your coworkers’ eyes widened in shock when they first saw him. 

The strongest - for everything except you. 

So, when he overhears you gossiping with your little friends about how maybe he’s too big - how it’s a bit of a hassle to lose your ability to walk every night - then, well, that spiteful little part of himself decides it’s time to give you exactly what you want. 

You’re wriggling your ass downwards, gummy walls sucking him up trying to sink further and further down Sukuna’s dizzying cock, “B-but Kuna-” 

“B-b-but Kuna.” He mocks in a pitch higher than normal, two thick fingers coming up to squish your tear-stained cheeks together into an embarrassing pout. Smirking down greedily, “But what? You were runnin’ this pretty mouth earlier, what happened now, hm? Too cockdrunk?”

And fuck, he didn’t expect you to be in the state to think up an answer to that question - he didn’t think you even heard it at first, too busy trying to milk his cock for all he was worth. 

But oh you always did surprise him. 

Teary, overstimulated gaze locking with his dark one when you give an unsteady, determined nod. Whimpering, “F-fuck yes.” 

Unbeknownst to himself - and his little scheme to punish you - your lewd little answer has Sukuna’s hips jutting forwards. Bullying past your gummy resistance to spearhead just a tinge more than his fat head into your sloppy entrance. 

“O-oh.” he groans, dropping his head feverishly into the crook of your neck. Trying to get back some control over his own body, but shit just an ounce of the way your slutty cunt was massaging every ridge and curve of his swollen cock and the king of curses just breaks. He’s biting his sharp canines down on your lower lip in what can barely be called a kiss. Messy. “Oh you little minx. You evil, evil-” He gives a punctuated half-thrust. “-brat.”

And that’s all it takes for Sukuna to be drunk on your cunt. To sink his achingly hard cock in so deep that it has his heavy balls smacking your ass, his leaky tip pressing a harsh peck to your poor cervix. 

Deeper. 

Hips immediately snapping forwards to replicate those purposeful, long slams you were tittering about just earlier today. 

“You’re so fuckin- hah-” he sucks in a shaky breath when you clench down on him hard. Absent-mindedly, Sukuna toys his free thumb down to roll against your neglected clit, wondering if this was part of your evil plan. Spitting against your kiss-bitten lips, “-unfair. Riling me up, complaining about it being ‘too much’ n’ then taking it like such a slut.”

It’s all you can do to moan brokenly, “Wasn’t- wasn’t complaining.”

For this, you’re getting a punishing smack! to your ravaged clit, immediately followed by an apologetic circle of Sukuna’s fingers. Harder. “So now you’re gonna ngh- lie while m’fucking you like this?”

As if to prove his point - and maybe drag out a few more of your honeyed cries on his cock - he’s reeling his hips back. Letting his throbbing veins massage against every inch of your elastic walls until it was just the ends of his thick head left inside you now. “Really? Real confident for someone that was just begging for my cock, y’know.”

“N-no!” you gasp, panicked. Your ankles manage to lock around Sukuna’s sculpted waist, digging into those sinful dimples at the end of his spine to push his length in deeper - just the way you liked it. “No no no- ngh was a compliment. A compliment I swear! Was bragging ah-”

He leers oh so cockily, “Oh really?”

Only growing at your urgent nod, your glossy lips falling into such a pretty pout, “Promise. Would n-never hah- complain about your cock, Kuna.”

Fuck, did you know how to drive him insane. 

To have him playing right into your pretty lil’ hands. 

Because each and every word spilling out of your delirious mouth has Sukuna fucking you deeper and deeper into the mattress. So animalistic with the way he was plunging into you like some glorified sextoy, the curve of his dick rubbing spots inside your gummy walls that you didn’t even know existed. That have you seeing stars. That have him forgetting that stupid promise of “just the tip”.

Too big? Fucking hilarious, you were lucky if you could make it out alive tonight with the way all the blood in his massive body was rushing to Sukuna’s dick, stretching him to an obscene girth. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck-” he’s grunting with each nudge against your cervix, your g-spot. Bruising you from the inside out. “Well then…” He’s wrestling your nodding face towards him, thrusts growing more and more erratic with each moan. “-let’s give you some more to brag about, hm?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - (Mind)break!

No one would believe their ears if they could see the great Gojo Satoru right about now. That Gojo Satoru? The strongest? The cocky lil’ shit that upturned desks and skipped out on every single jujutsu meeting?

Of course, it wasn’t the same Gojo Satoru that came straight to you after a particularly taxing jujutsu mission, eyes wide - crazed, a feral grin on him that’d never left. Of course, it wasn’t the same Gojo Satoru that had to take only one look at you before ripping your poor clothes off, pent-up jujutsu still thrumming behind his fingers where he folded you into such a mean mating press. Making you cum over and over selfishly while he hasn’t even once. 

Of course. 

But here he was - around your third orgasm, his face buried nose-deep at your erratic pulse, powerful hips jerky and stuttering while he tried to keep his swollen cock controlled, buried inside your heavenly cunt still only till that pretty pink slit at his head. 

Because this was Gojo Satoru, and he didn’t want to break you just yet. 

“Aww, look at you- fuck!” Gojo whines when the tip of his sensitive cock brushes up against another one of your sweet spots. Reeling back ever-so-slightly to spit right onto your bulging cunt once. Twice. “Fuck just look at you, sweetheart.”

And before you can react, a large hand is enveloping your cheeks. Sending a buzz of electricity from his touch to where he was tilting your head down, forcing you to look at the obscene sight below you. 

Your ravaged cunt all messy and glistening with the excess of Gojo’s saliva, slobbering even filthier down the head of his unforgiving cock. Red and angry, each slow, controlled grind just begging for you to take him whole. 

The little gasp that leaves your candied lips is enough for Gojo to moan gutturally, “Ohhh look at that- look at that. Makes me wanna hah-” His ragged words trail off, thighs flexing like they were about to shove himself up, up, up and- only for your boyfriend to gather whatever’s left of his sanity with a sharp intake of breath. “-wanna break you.”

Stubbornly, you jut out your kiss-bitten lower lip, grinding your hips up pathetically to try and take some more greedy inches for yourself. “Why not? Wan’ more than jus’ the tip, gimme ngh all of it.”

“Heh, my needy girl. So- so cock-hungry, huh?” Gojo spits, another steady stream of saliva hitting your waiting tongue- wait, when did you even let it loll out like that? He plows on, thumb gliding over to gloss it over your lips. “Wish I could- ohhh I wish so bad. But m’too fuckin’ hah- worked up after that mission. Can’t handle- can’t control hngh-”

Each word sounds stilted - pained. And Gojo’s giving minute, almost-unidentifiable thrusts puncturing each one. Slowly but surely losing his sanity as well as his restraint. 

If either of you were in any better state of mind, maybe you’d have noticed that glowing tinge in his hazy eyes, the little crackles of purple lighting dancing down his milky skin. 

But, no, instead you’re whining, “I don’t care, Toru–”

“No you d-don’t get to do that.” he gasps, eyes going wide at that unfair nickname. Giving a dangerous half-thrust into your gummy walls. “No no no no you don’t get to do that. M’only giving you the tip right now.” And you’re being gifted a messy little graze of Gojo’s plump lips against your own, hissing when you bite down. “Don’t know the ngh- extent of my power. S’unstable- could kill- hah destroy-”

“You talk too much.” 

Gojo can sense it before it happens - of course he can. And he knows he should stop it, for the safety of you and less importantly, the entirety of Japan. He knows he should keep fucking you with just his fat head, keeping as much composure as possible. 

But Gojo lets it happen anyway.

Letting those wobbly legs of yours dangling around his broad shoulders lock in an instant to just nudge his body forwards. Sighing when you feel the stretch of his rock-hard cock making their mark past his thick head. 

The lights go out. All of them - all across Tokyo, in fact. Shining too bright that they burst into little shards of energy.

Yet it doesn’t matter to you or Gojo, his electric-blue eyes burning bright into the darkness. Tiny flicks of lightning illuminating your ruined bedroom as his entire body stiffens for a split-second. Jolting like he’d come to life - and in one, fluid movement, he was buried inside your tight pussy. Fully. 

Fuck, Gojo’s stretched so taut. Something ugly, dangerous snapping in him when that’s all it takes for him to be releasing thick rope after rope of his seed. Cumming and cumming so hard it’s like he can’t stop. Won’t stop. 

Knows he won’t for a very, very long time even when you reach your high for the fourth time that night. Milking him for every single drop. 

Even when his cum paints your gummy walls a white to match his hair, filling you up so much that it overspills. Forming a lewd little pool below that makes you tremble impossibly deeper down Gojo’s still hard cock. 

And the only thing you can hear in the moment the low crackle of jujutsu in the suddenly pressurized air, and the sinful squelches as Gojo steadies his hips back dangerously. Readying. Letting out a raspy, barely-audible whisper, “If we make it out of this alive, remind me to buy you plan B, sweetheart.”

A/N. Tony stop writing Higuruma cameos challenge GO! (Failed)

Plagiarism not authorized.

[orphicsun]

Ellie Williams fucking you post-patrol (c/w: 18+ content, missionary, strap-on sex with jackson ellie)

Still in that old, grey hoodie of hers, tiny frayed holes along the lined hem. She is completely naked from the waist down, save for the strap she pounds into your pussy, her hips grinding against yours from above, her lanky sides hugged tight by the softness of your thighs; you always love wrapping your legs around her while she fucks you senseless.

"Ellie," you gasp her name, and your tone is contradictory in itself. She can't pull it apart even if held at gunpoint demanded to. Everything is happening so fast, and all she knows is that you said her name. Was it a warning that you were close, an exclamation, a plea for more?

But then you grasp at the ratty fabric of her hoodie, at her shoulder. You pull her down against you and bury your face into her shoulder, and she melts. Her thrusts can't keep up with you, growing sloppier and more like pathetic, greedy grinds into your hole than deep strokes. It's embarrassing how Ellie, your girlfriend who is supposed to be the one making you cum, is about to soak the both of you because of one cute action.

When she regains control over her lust-driven mind, you feel the silicone glide into you in a deep, slow pace. It sends you into more of a frenzy than if she were simply jackhammering into your cunt. No, she takes the time to make you feel the print of her dick slide and press into your sensitive insides. You try to hold in your soft whines and gasps, and it's a bit easier when you've got all sound muffled into her hoodie. Strategy.

Ellie drives you crazy without even knowing, though. You inhale through your nose, and all you can smell is Ellie's last patrol—the earthy compound of tree bark and dirt or soil, probably the former. There is the slight note of old cologne she put on this morning or last night, and it makes you dizzy in the head. But behind it all, when you take a deeper sniff, you can smell just Ellie. Her flesh, her sweat. It clings to her. You almost forget the moment, just getting lost in the comfort. You don't realize how close she brings you until she snaps you out of your daydreaming.

"Are you gonna stop sniffin' me and tell me how good I'm fucking this pretty pussy?" Ellie questioning teasingly. It makes your pussy wetter, not only because of her words, but because they’re strained and come out in an awkward, low cadence you’ve grown familiar with. Ellie is a loser at heart, even when she is deep inside you. It’s your weakness and she knows it, but can’t bring herself to use it against you because her own face reddens at the way her words jumble from her mouth. You know she means them.

Your answer is a half-moan, half blabber of incoherent words. She thrusts into you so hard it knocks your head back into place.

"Y-Yeah...fucking me so good..please don't stop, gonna cum for you, Els." You ramble on, one of your clammy hands trailing underneath her hoodie to grope at her tits. Ellie has something equivalent to mosquito bites which make them so easy to hold and roll in your hands until her rose-tinted nipples rise. Above you, Ellie's face scrunches up as she tries not to lose her rhythm again. It doesn't matter, though. You're too far, about to cum and coat the plastic she spoils you with after each and every assignment she is handed.

Ellie lets herself completely lay on top of you, her warm overbearing in the best way imaginable. Every inch of her moves as her hips do most of the work, and she lets out a little sigh of relief when you finally tense up and your legs shake against her sides.

Your orgasm is followed by only the confectionate feeling of love. She holds you tight in something reminiscent to a bear hug, her arms wrapped tightly around your body. Ellie isn't typically the sweetheart, rather the sardonic talk of Jackson wrapped up in a freckled package. But here in bed with you, she smothers your face with wet kisses and squeezes you like you can't possibly belong anywhere but here.

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[mothemoiselle]

why can we not report posts from followed tags? i’m sick of seeing scammy porn links and more posts complaining about the porn links recommended on my tl