#covet band

[curiositykilledtheradiostar]

Covet album cover appreciation post

Like. Look at these. Aren't they stunning?? Just so goddamn pretty????

[paigeamandaphotography]

Covet band && TSOSIS

House Of Independents // Asbury Park, NJ// 11/30/2022

[annunakitty]

Wake up, babes. New Covet album dropped!

[brandiisgoingtohell]

Episode 28: You Bred Raptors? NYC's Instrumental Post-Rock Trio

BRANDI IS GOING TO HELLEP. 28: Episode 28: You Bred Raptors? NYC’s Instrumental Post-Rock Trio LISTEN HERE EPISODE DESCRIPTION I kick off this episode with new releases that I dig, which includes Covet’s catharsis, Jesus Piece’s …So Unknown, As Everything Unfolds’s Ultraviolet, The St. Pierre Snake Invasion’s Galore, and Doom Genesis & The Alchemist’s No Idols. My special guest includes Peat…

[thishouseiscalledsqualor]

I was meant to be an older sibling in early 2000s media

Younger Sibling: *walks into room wearing nerdy jacket*

Me (super cool obvi): hey nice jacket dork are you starring in a production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dweeb Coat

Dork Ass Sibling: you just called my jacket amazing

Me (seeing red, commencing chase): I'm gonna beat the hell out of you you little shit

[uncanny-tranny]

I had to share for very obvious reasons

[outlying-hyppocrate]

now presenting the clearance aisle's newest song, ******** by proxy (because she envied the house)

[innytoes]

Autumn Prompts #30 - Yes I stole your hoodie it’s cozy and it smells like you, Alex/Reggie, p&t

Also for Anon, who also asked for Ralex and 30.

“Hey Reg, have you seen my...” Alex said, walking into the living room shirtless only to find Reggie snuggled up in the exact pink hoodie he’d been looking for. “Okay.”

Reggie didn’t even look repentant at all, instead roaming his eyes over Alex’ bare chest. They’d been dating for long enough that instead of covering up, Alex just put his hands on his hips instead. Which did not deter Reggie at all, the way he was eyeing up Alex’ biceps.

“Really?” he asked, exasperated.

“Yes I stole your hoodie,” Reggie said, like he was about to defend himself. But all he said afterwards was: “It’s cozy.”

“You have your own hoodies,” Alex pointed out. He had a Star Wars one that made him look like Baby Yoda with the hood up, and a red one, and a hideous one with dogs printed all over it.

“This one smells like you, though,” Reggie said, before turning on the Puppy Dog Eyes. Alex threw up his hands, turning around to go back to their bedroom to find something else to wear. The fact that Reggie was clearly checking out his back and ass as he walked away only helped soothe his annoyance a little.

Still, Alex thought as he rummaged through his closet. It wasn’t like he would ever force Reggie to take off the hoodie. He liked seeing his boyfriend in his clothes way too much for that. He just didn’t want Reggie to know that, or he’d never get his hoodie back.

[the-empty-covet]

Some of my mental notes about HU members (current and former) while scripting my fan animated videos for them (because I need to put some acting into them):

J3T: God is dead and so am I.

Charlie Scene: GOD IS DEAD LET'S GET WASTED!!!

J-Dog: God is dead and I don't care.

Funny Man: He's a kreechure wearing human skin and hopes no one will notice

Danny: He's the embodiment of (: for good, bad and wicked he is (: and you usually find yourself saying "I don't know what I was expecting but that wasn't it"

Deuce: He's edgy. He breathes edgy. He walks edgy. He speaks edgy. He wears edgy. He is like those vampire OCs that are super skinny but also super fucking OP for no reason except being edgy. And he will get hissy if you hold a Twilight novel book near him like you're offending his entire bloodline at once.

Needless to say but I will say it anyways, this isn't about Daniel Rose Murillo or Dylan Alvarez or any of the HU members (current or former) in a personal way. I take these from their verses in the songs, their public appearances and their own acting in their own music videos because I can't just put them in the animation with no personality whatsoever. But I also can't figure out who they are because, after all, I don't actually know them.

This is the mid term I found that I will work with and I might post more of that if I get bored in the future.

[scarlett-bitch69]

[dixonsbrat]

𖥔 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𖥔

summary ; coriolanus needs to learn how to relax.

pairing ; young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

notes ; smut. 18+ content. minors do not interact! handjob (male receiving). swearing. spoilers for tbosas !

do not transfer, translate or share my work to any other sites.

coriolanus’ determination to achieve the plinth prize was palpable. the coveted prize, awarded annually to the top students at the academy, granting them money and essentially a free ride through the university, was all he had been focusing on. 

countless books lay strewn across his desk, balls of crumpled up paper scattered around the room, as he stood before it. leaning against the old wooden table as his arms firmly held him steady. it was a clear indication that coriolanus had been pushing himself, striving to make every word and every thought count. 

while it was something to admire, that didn’t stop the worry that had been seeping in. it wouldn’t have been obvious to most, but to you, someone who spent a lot of time with him, you could see the dark circles that had begun to encapsulate his eyes, the way his hair was slightly disarrayed, or the fact that he hadn’t even completely changed out of his academy uniform. only his bright red pants and blue shirt still firmly clad on his body. 

he doesn’t hear you come in, doesn’t hear the thud from you closing the door, or you dropping your bag on the chair in the corner of the room. too enthralled by his textbooks and whatever scribbled nonsense is written in them, that it’s not until you wrap your arms around him from the back that he finally takes notice of your presence. 

a smile spreads across his face as he places a hand atop of yours, “what are you doing here?” he asks, surprised but pleased to see you. 

you pull him closer, embracing the feeling of holding him in your arms after barely getting to see him that day. the smell of roses filling your senses as you drink him in, “tigris let me in, said you’ve been cooped up in here all afternoon. plus, i… missed you.”

“i really missed you too, my love, but i-”

“-have so much to do. i know,” you cut him off, finishing his sentence. the same sentence you had been getting for weeks now. “which is exactly why you are going to put away the books and spend some time with your girlfriend.” 

you can physically see the gears beginning to turn in his head, trying to think of a way to let you down gently. you didn’t take it to heart, you knew how important it was for him to win the plinth prize. you were the only one outside of his family that did. 

“you already know you’re going to get that prize, coryo,” you sigh, “nobody even comes close in comparison to how hard you’ve been working for it, but you’ve gotta stop spreading yourself so thin.”

“i know, but tigris and grandma’am-”

“-would agree with me, that you need a night off,” you press a gentle kiss to the back of his shoulder, and pull him in even tighter. his head lulls back to lean against yours, blond curls falling into his face as a sigh leaves his lips. he knew you were right. “you’re always taking care of everyone else, let me take care of you for once.”

he turns to look at you now, eyes big and dewy, a mixture of surprise and understanding as he comprehends the hidden meaning behind your words. however, before he can utter a single word in response, your hands gently glides along his abdomen, gradually tracing its way down to were the band of his pants delicately meets his waist. his breath catches momentarily, captured by a flicker of anticipation, while his unwavering gaze remains fixed upon your own, unyielding and brimming with unspoken emotions. 

“you’ve been working so hard,” your voice is barely above a whisper, almost tauntingly, but he hears you all the same, “... let me help you relieve some of that tension.”

coriolanus swallows hard, falling into your hands, both physically and metaphorically, and he surrenders with a nod. it brought a smile to your face to see the hard exterior he put on crumble, become powerless, and just from your mere touch. 

his back stiffened as he leaned against you, watching as your hand roamed lower now, trailing down to where he was confined behind his pants. a shaky breath escapes him and he shifts on the balls of his feet, waiting with anticipation as you finally make contact with his now pulsing bulge. nothing separating you except for the thin material of his underwear. 

“y/n,” he sighs, your name falling from his lips so gracefully. 

you can’t help the small laugh that escapes you, pleased to see the effect you had on him. “shh, don’t think about it, you do enough of that as it is. just relax,” you push on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek, as a bright flush spreads across it. 

you could feel him getting harder in your grasp, his breaths growing shorter and lower, eyes flailing closed with desperation. your hand runs circles around him, groping him where he needed you the most. it brought you pleasure just to hear the soft moans escaping him, watching him lose control to you. 

his chest rises and falls at a dramatic pace, his patience wearing thin, but that was all part of the fun. you wanted him needy, begging for you to touch him. 

“fuck, y/n,” he gasps, illiciting a stroke of excitement in you. 

deciding that he had enough of you teasing him, you waste no time delving into his underwear and releasing him from the constraints of his pants. an audible sigh of relief comes from coriolanus as you do so, his body shuddering slightly at the warmth of your hand finally making contact. 

he rests in your hand, his largely endowed member, all pretty and pink at the tip. you stroke him teasingly, rubbing the end with your finger to gather the pre-cum that had trickled out, using it to help you start stroking him. he shudders from the movement, struggling to stand still as you slowly pump your hand up and down his shaft. 

you remove your hand momentarily to collect some of your spit and when you hold him once more he shudders, struggling to stand still, and his hips begin to move involuntarily. if there was one thing coriolanus loved more than you pleasuring him, it was watching you pleasure him. 

tucking his chin against his chest, he watches as your hand works his length, pumping back and forth with ease. his hips jut forward, begging for more, until it all becomes to much and his hands lurch forward to grasp onto the table before him, just like they were when you walked in. 

“let it out for me, baby,” your voice is reassuring in his ear, sweet and soft, full of promise. 

hearing you speak to him in such a way pulls a moan from the back of his throat and he just about loses it. his body tightens at the same time, hips bucking himself into your hand faster as the coil in the pit of his stomach finally bends and breaks.

he clamps his teeth down on his lower lip to muffle his moans, trying to remain quiet so that no one else could hear what the two of you were up to. his knuckles turn white as he gently bangs his fist down on the desk, and it’s only seconds before your hand is warm with his cum. 

“fuck me,” he whisper-shouts, eyes clenching shut as his hips jut and dick twitches in your hand. 

“that’s my boy,” the comment pulls a small chuckle from coryo as you remove your hand, his white secretion now coating it, “though, it does seem like an awful waste. i guess it’s a good thing i’m not done with you yet.”

[highvern]

Endpoint TEASER

Pairing: Jean Wonwoo x f!reader

Genre: fluff/smut (teaser), angst (full fic)

warnings:  unprotected sex, facial, face fucking, oral (f & m receiving), fingering, simp wonwoo. more tbd

Length: ~1.6k (teaser)

Note: hiatus is is on hiatus because this is the first @camandemstudios fic. em and i went to marriage counseling to make sure we'd get this done. I cant wait for you all to read the amazing fics coming soon. take this as my penance for abandoning patterns

summary: Senior year of college is meant to be full of celebration and smooth sailing. Years of work culminating in the final semesters that will send you off into the real world where clubs, sports, and weekends packed with hungover volunteering to pad your resume no longer mattered. It’d be a piece of cake if it wasn’t for your fuck buddy turned coworker having the same plan. But only one of you can get the department’s most coveted recommendation that all but guarantees your acceptance. Tension rises and the nearly four year thing you’ve had with Wonwoo approaches its endpoint.

collab m.list || m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

Comment to be added to the tag list when the full fic is posted September 10th!

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Wonwoo hums into your stomach, hands crawling up your thighs.

“That,” you inhale at the nip of his teeth on the curve of your thigh, “doesn’t feel like nothing to me.”

Wonwoo doesn’t answer but gives you plenty of time to brush him off while bruising your skin. You don’t. Instead you sink deeper into the blankets and let him push your shirt up until you're bare once more.

The fuzziness of alcohol lingers in his veins – just enough that he smiles into the strip of skin above your panties as you sigh and arch under the delicious weight of wandering hands and mouth at your nipple.

“Wonwoo,” you sigh and he’s up and kissing you with eager clumsiness.

A familiar prod at your core through his boxers crashes bubbles through your veins. You felt it in the bathroom but now is when you finally get to indulge with subtle grinds Wonwoo meets in his own search for friction. 

“Don’t you need to be up—ugh—early tomorrow?”

He kisses you slowly, tongue dragging along your bottom lip until your mouth opens under his. It burns you from the inside out. Mindlessly you shift your legs to frame his hips better but Wonwoo kisses deeper and all you can think about is giving in to whatever scheme he’s working up to have you both naked and panting.

He leans back a fraction to speak, giving in when you chase his lips before ducking to nip at your ear and mumbling a response. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I will worry about it when you snooze twenty alarms and your team hunts me down because I smothered their star player with a pillow,” you snort but heat under a squeeze of his fingers at your sides.

“Sleep when I’m done with this.”

“And what is ‘this’ exactly?”

A harsh suck at your jaw has your stomach tight. heavy and thick until need drips down your spine to coil in your gut and the emptiness between your thighs becomes unignorable. He hides pleased groans in the curve of your neck until you force a hand under the band of his underwear. Eyes opening, you watch the muscles of his back tense and flex as he rocks against you, fucking your fist greedily.

It doesn’t last long. Wonwoo gets antsy under the taunting pressure of your thumb and descends back down your body with burning lips. “Take your shirt off.”

“It’s cold,” you complain but do as he asks. 

He traces your figure clad in nothing but your glasses and a soiled pair of panties; damp at the crotch from his attention and Wonwoo slips a finger under the hem to tease you that inch closure to depravity.

Wonwoo laves against the hickey on the inside of your thigh from a week ago, it’s yellowed and perfectly shaped like his mouth. It’s tender under his attention, even the gentle tracing on his nose forcing you to wince in discomfort. 

He coos, kissing it before skating back to the hem of your panties, lips vibrating against your skin. “Sorry I didn’t come earlier.”

Why he brings it up now is a mystery. Or the fact he brings it up at all. 

“It’s fine,” you sigh as he tugs the last scrap of fabric off your body and pushes your knees up to display you like a meal.

Spreading you apart, he lands a wet kiss at your entrance before teasing with the heat of his tongue. 

In a beg for sanity you twist a tight grip in his hair; a tangled mess from his drunk endeavors. Wonwoo pushes harder, drowns in your taste with enthusiasm as you moan and sigh. 

“F-fuck.”

He won’t ask if it’s good. He knows it is. Nearly four years of hook ups attunes him to your pleasure, a well rehearsed routine that has you both ache in the best way. 

You lose yourself in shaking breaths, feet planted to drive up into his mouth for more. He sucks your clit and nearly gets his head crushed by your thighs. It doesn’t take much and he knows it. 

You chant ‘gonna cum’ in choked groans that almost die at the edge of your teeth but Wonwoo hears and takes it as permission to pull out the stops, hand at your thigh with a harsh grip and fingers sinking home.

He’s memorized all the signs of your want; the wrecked echo of your throat and the sounds he pulls from you a clear tell. He flattens his tongue, holding steady as grind straight into mindless bliss. Spit pools and drips and slips down onto the sheets. Wonwoo hums praise, unintelligible but you vaguely know it’s something that’d make you blush if you could hear it over the pounding of blood.

Back arching, your vision flares white at the edges and when Wonwoo realizes what's happening he makes it last until your fist ball up and you’re floating.

Wonwoo backs down as you twitch through the tail end, sloppy kisses to your clit that could knock into another fit if he isn’t careful. But even as you tremble the only thing you want is the weight of his cock in your mouth, or inside you. You aren’t picky as long as you get to feel him cum too.

You finally manage to pry Wonwoo from between your legs with an ankle to his ribs. You’re not done with him despite the fatigue hanging around your shoulders like dead weight. He angles over top of you for a kiss that tastes too much like pussy for your liking but it’s hot knowing he’s covered in you so you push until his shoulders meet the sheets and you can claim his lap.

His dick strains through his underwear, preening when you rock back into the heat. His nostrils flare when you grab for it, stiff enough to sink onto easily. 

“Oh god,” he groans, head digging back into the pillows to watch you like a goddess.

His fingers web across the tops of your thighs, a harsh grip keeping you flat as he grinds up into the wet heat of your pussy. You whimper and sigh for him; all the sounds he loves to hear. You squeeze your chest, taut nipples framed between the slants of your fingers to entice him until he reaches around and knocks you forward for the sole purpose of taking one in his mouth.

Your eyes roll back, jaw locked open, drowning in the stretch and the bite of his mouth and the hands squeezing your ass so hard it hurts. Wonwoo groans, throaty and desperate. “Gonna cum. Wanna cum in you. Holy shit.”

He gets you on your back. Too absorbed in his own end, he’s dead weight with his tongue between your lips and harsh thrusts that take him right to the edge. It gives that grit against your clit that means you’ll cum too, soaked in cum and spit and sweat.

You wish he’d flip you on your front and fuck you with a hand between you shoulder blades and the other tangle in your hair. That’s the kind of fuck that’d leave you satisfied the entire weekend he’s busy but he’s running out of steam just doing this, picking up speed in his thrust,the clap of bodies filling the room.

Chanting his name like a broken record, ‘Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo’ breathy but loud enough your neighbors will leave another passive aggressive note on your door come morning, all you can think about is his cum. On you, in you. A sick part wants him to pull out and cum on your face – he hasn’t, not in a long time because priorities and responsibilities and you're usually lucky to have even five minutes alone before someone needs either of you. But you want it. God do you want it.

“Cum on my face,” you whimper. There’s drool on your lips and sweat in your hairline. Even if he doesn't, you'll need another shower anyway.

A strangled noise escapes from between his teeth at your neck. Then he’s driving forward so hard you burn; painfully so, mouth locked in a silent choke. Your orgasm rips through your insides, jagged at the edges where Wonwoo fucks himself into your guts. 

“Fuck yeah,” he grunts, pulling away and replacing the grip of your pussy with a tight fist as he straddles your chest. 

The taste of cock floods your tongue, heady and intoxicating. You get one, two drags against the stiff head and then he’s cumming, dripping his spend over your lips, then your cheek, then your glasses because he’s a sick freak. You open your mouth and replace his hold, moaning as more comes to the surface. You swallow down as far as he’ll go which isn’t much in this position but it’s the thought that counts.

Wonwoo grinds to halt with an occasional kick of his hips that leaves you choking – rigid limbs locking in place until he melts with sticky satisfaction. 

He’s up and off, your glasses in hand for a thorough cleaning, not even bothering to flick on any of the lights but you hear the sink running in the bathroom before he comes padding back.

“God,” you whimper in disgust. “That’s so gross.”

“You’re the one who asked for it,” Wonwoo snorts, soft passes of a damp cloth on your skin focused on getting you clean enough to sleep.

“Because it’s hot but you aim for shit.”

Wonwoo tosses the rag somewhere, flopping down and pulling you close as possible with a kiss on your forehead. “Next time I’ll aim for your hair.”

“Bitch.”

The sound of music from upstairs pulses through your head as you drift off, Wonwoo asleep on your chest, fingers laced together on the sheets beside your intertwined bodies.

FULL FIC POSTED HERE

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi

@writingbarnes @dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts

@wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos @seungkw1 @horanghaezone @jespecially

@scoupsjin @isabellah29 @luvseungcheol @crisle19 @iamawkwardandshy

@lukeys-giggle @aaa-sia @tinkerbell460

[pseudophan]

a heartfelt community project in your honour

hello dan and phil :) i just thought i'd let you know that since you refuse to stop using the word "phan" constantly and clearly love it so much, we here on tumblr did you a solid and banded together to get #phan back on the top ships list! i know, i know, no need to thank us.

for many years we ruled this website and could always count on seeing #phan high up on the weekly top 20 ship lists, not to mention the coveted end of the year top 100. eventually, however, everyone got older and times changed and most people decided #phan was cringe, it was inappropriate, and for the past half decade or so you've lost the throne that was once so rightfully yours

and so, like the do-gooders we always have been, we've collectively agreed to start tagging phan again, to earn back your spot among the all-time tumblr greats, and i am THRILLED to announce you have now been back on the list for eight weeks in a row!

you even beat destiel one week, congratulations! we are sure this will bring you joy, you are welcome.

[kithtaehyung]

calling you cool (m) | jjk

title: calling you cool (m)   pairing: jungkook x rock star!reader(f)   rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; rock band au , strangers to lovers   summary: after your band finishes a coveted club gig, you’re frustrated that your dope ass night ends with you hiding in a bathroom stall. at least, this is what you figured—until someone comes along to change that.   warnings: language, alcohol, one (1) creep at the club, explicit scenes, unprotected (wrap it babes), choking, head/hair pulling, hitting it from the b b back, you aren’t the only one in restraints lmao, but urs are his hands💕, wh*re mentions, angst??, mast*rbation, sub!jk until he’s not :)))), or*l teasing, rough s*x, wet humping.. just trust me lmao, angst lol, exhibiti*nism, c*m play, club grinding :)), cre*mpie, competitive jk, handcuffs<3, bre*st play, cowgirl yeehaw, body worship, p*ssy play, praise k ink pain k ink waow a combo, he’s not gonna be quiet a ha ha, it’s ck jk bc he broke me, manhandling, tatted up jk, also he’s a brat but who is shocked, kissing lol, multiple org*sms, ..feelings??, jk in denim is a warning in itself, aftercare bc ofc, the ending a ha ha :))) note: so… i have no explanation for this other than i went to a live show in february and got, umm. inspired lmao. tbh this is for the ones that wanna get revenge on this man for everything he’s been up to && it’s cuffing season so let’s get itttt<33   note 2: hope u enjoy what i’ve been working on for months now🥺💕 nothing else to add other than this is only semi-edited lol see y’all on the other side :))   drop date: april 10th, 2023, 7:20pm est word count: 12.1k🤪

-

-

Two and a half hours that felt like eight.

The entire reason why you’re slumped over a sticky bar counter and just waiting for your first liquid punch to the throat. 

Granted, it was fun as hell to finally showcase at a larger club—a nice step up from musty, humble dives—but you didn’t prepare for the sudden kick off stage for a more anticipated deejay set to follow. Which ushered in a bout of fatigue instead of the usual post-performance adrenaline.

And to make everything worse? All your bandmates are sensually preoccupied in various nooks already—a sign that you should get on with it, too, or at least find another way home. 

Home doesn’t sound great, but you choose it anyway.

Ugh. They are definitely spotting you for the ride you’re looking up on your… Phone…

What’s this guy’s problem?

Hating the way he’s totally invading your space with icky manners and even more awful breath, you decide to ask him this exact question. Bluntly.

And his response makes you physically cringe,

“Wanna get a chance before you’re famous, pretty girl.” 

Pretty? 

He couldn’t even go with hot?

You just shredded a guitar for two and a half hours that felt like eight. Hot is the only adjective you’ll accept right now.

“I’m gonna pass on that, dude,” you offer as a quick rejection, saying thanks to the very attractive bartender wait fuck what the hell is that guy even real? 

Immediately, your mind blanks as he leaves as quickly as he drops off your drink, the creeper next to you fading fast.

What the…

The first coherent thought you have is that the guy you saw wasn’t the same person that took your order. 

The second coherent thought is that the first one barely matters because whomever you just saw wipes any sense from your brain regardless. 

Angelic yet downright sinful. Refreshing yet strangely familiar. 

Familiar, though? Doesn’t that mean you should’ve seen him before? 

…What were you doing again? 

“Come on. I can even help you out if you let me.”

Oh, right. Turning down some idiot that, with a quick sniff of your nose, you can tell is still too close.

Hopefully hot bartender man comes to the rescue like all the others in fiction do.

Not that you need him to. You can definitely handle these things on your own. But any excuse to see those tatted muscles and strong eyebrows under those piercings? You’ll take it.

Besides, your story hasn’t shaped up anywhere close to tales like those anyway. This is just another moment in your mediocre history of trying to make it big, with a banged up hand-me-down instrument and a dream. 

At least this sleaze beside you believes in your upward trajectory…

How touching.

Fingers poised on your glass, you slowly offer a side-eye. “Well, I‘ve made it on my own so far, so. Not looking for help at the moment.” While he sputters out nonsense, you take a silent sip, ethanol spicing your tongue before you tack on, “Maybe work on that home life instead, yeah?” 

You both regard his hand resting next to your elbow, one of the fingers sporting a ring of untouched skin where a band usually sits. Unless it's not wanted. Clearly.

“Seems like it needs a lot more help than my career.”

The man’s face falters at your tight-lipped smile, and you glance around to see if hot bartender guy is anywhere close in case you need another glass. 

As if. You absolutely will need one in a second. 

But your guardian demon is nowhere to be found. 

You sigh as the mounting tension next to you expands and expands, finally bursting and reeking of bruised ego, “You listen to me, bi—”

Denim wedges its way between you before you hear a jovial,

“Ready to go?” 

Huh? Whose arm is—

…Hot bartender man? 

No fucking way. 

You almost laugh at whatever’s happening because there’s no possible reason this is real. 

Right? That moment was too perfect; the timing was magnificent.

If these two guys turn out to be buddies and have a con going, you’re gonna riot.

Damn your friends for leaving you on your own tonight. You can’t even enjoy serendipity because of all the paranoia you have on your own.

Deciding flight is better than fight at the moment, you panic and give yourself an out, 

“Go where? The bathroom? Good idea.” 

In your haste to straighten and spin, you miss the confusion and shock following your fast steps. 

And you squeeze through the fog and sweaty crowd to wait things out in an overused, scribbled-to-hell stall.

After scrolling through your feed and checking any relevant hashtags about your band’s set—all of them surprisingly encouraging and unsurprisingly about yours and Jimin’s mic tonguing and Yoongi making love to his guitar—you decide that fifteen minutes should be enough time. 

Sighing, you wash up before leaving the restroom, fixing your clothes and calling a ride—

“Ah, there you are!” 

Holy shit what is happening tonight you can’t catch a wait is that hot bartender man again?

You really need to find another name for this guy. Hopefully Asshole or Creep aren’t possible choices because he really is undoubtedly handsome. “Can I help you?”

“I was, umm..” He pauses with a purse of his lips. “Got kinda worried.”

Now that you get a better look at him, he looks a little sweet, too. 

Which makes you even more wary of what he could be up to.

“Oh,” you drone, inwardly pleased because of how you decide to shift the conversation next, 

“Sorry, my shits are big.” 

The boy’s eyes widen before he blinks, mouth holding back a smile and springing anticipation into your chest. 

Is he gonna run? Think you’re weird? Is he even gonna say anyth—

“So are my dog’s.” 

…What?

A laugh shoots out of your lips before you can stop it, and your surprisingly chill companion relaxes with you immediately. 

Well. If your literal shit talk didn’t deter him, maybe he’s alright. 

“I’m playing,” you chuckle. “I just didn’t wanna deal with that guy. And you, if you’re in on his little scheme.” 

“Me? Fuck no.” A head shake with brows pinched to hell precedes his claim, “I’d never do that to you.” 

Uh huh. 

When you pin him with bored suspicion, his clarification tumbles out in spurts, 

“Or anyone. No scheming. I don’t—I don’t, uhm—You as in anyone, you know? That’s what I meant—” 

You admit he’s adorable. Without any effort, too.

Is he even single?

You give him mercy when you assure, “I get it. Thank you.” 

That seems to placate him. When you hold your gaze, you take in eyes sparkling behind long bangs that accentuate his features too, too well. “Anytime,” is all he says in return, and you don’t know where to go from here. 

Unless he’s down to be the last conquest of your band. If he is, you may have been the slowest, but you’re confident that you snagged the best for last. 

Jimin may even get jealous.

But you need just a little more evaluating before you decide to shoot your shot. Even if your body is screaming otherwise. 

Start slow. “You down to dance?” 

It’s obvious he didn’t expect anything else from this conversation, and you almost don’t hear him over the booming bumps of a song you like,

“Uh.. Wait, really?” 

“Yes, really!” you shout, grabbing his tatted hand and pulling him towards the sea of a dance floor. “I don’t wanna end the night hiding in a bathroom.” 

“Sounds like the perfect night to me.” 

“Liar.” 

“Jungkook.”

“Hmm?” 

When you spin back around, you decide that you like how his face shines with lips in a happy curve. 

“It’s Jungkook,” he repeats, more sure before aiming his grin into the crowd.

“Ah.” 

It looks like he wanted to tell you that from the start. How adorable considering you weren’t even thinking about things like name exchanges. 

Your smile is genuine. “Good to know. I was calling you hot bartender man this whole time.”

When he tilts his head down to laugh, you figure he thinks you’re joking again. But he gives his own soft admittance, catching you wonderfully off-guard,

“I’ve just been calling you cool.” 

A huff out your nose is your only reply. 

Why is he confident one second and super timid the next? It’s strange. Disarming, even.

But it’s also enough to keep you interested, and you’re truly enjoying this change of pace. 

Maybe you can accept his adjective, too.

You don’t know how many songs pass before you find yourself glued to him. Or him glued to you, no one can say for sure. 

But with each song, no matter the tempo, he’s proven that he can move—even when he lets you lead the way. 

“You didn’t tell me you could dance,” you finally yell in his ear, to which he laughs.

“That’s not what you asked!”

Rolling your eyes, you tighten your grip on his firm arm, wondering how he hasn’t taken the jacket off yet. He’s gotta be soaked under all of that heavy blue.

“Why don’t you take this off?” 

“You want me to?”

“God, yes,” you say with full honesty. “You’re making me hot just looking at you.” 

“Then why would I take it off?” 

…Oh? 

Jimin will be jealous for sure.

You can only smirk, telling your body to not react so fast when all he does is shuck the top part off, leaving his white tee in view and strong forearms holding the jacket in place.

What the fuck!

“Better?” he husks in your ear, sounding like he knows you’re grappling for an answer.

But two can play this game. You tug him in by his shirt as a tiny taunt slips off your tongue,

“For now.”

His chuckles roll down your neck, and you keep him close as the next beat makes everyone in the club grind slow. 

Shit, he didn’t tell you he could do this too holy fuck. If this is how he…

You can feel your breath quickening with each deep roll, and you don’t even remember when you were turned around but your ass is burying his front with no shame in sight. 

What was his name again? Jung-something. Jung-whatever. Jung—

Jungkook. 

Jungkook feels fucking good. 

You start to hear him say something in your ear, but when you turn slightly to give him attention, you realize he’s singing along.

And it’s turning your knees into paper.

Lip bitten, you face him to put a bold hand on his neck, settling into his soft tone and wanting to remain on his strong build. Rolling against his front, you whisper, “You like this song, huh.”

He ticks his head to the side before admitting, “Not really.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” You gather his leg between yours while keeping your rhythm, and his mouth parts when you suggest, 

“Maybe you can sing something else for me later.”

He swallows any words you were about to hear, and you find this hesitance a little odd. But you’re also finding delicious friction on his jeans right now, so conversation be damned. 

“Never mind,” you offer between shaky breaths. “I was just. Just kidding.”

“I’ll do it.”

You flick your eyes to his earnest ones.

“If you really want me to.”

Suddenly, you’re shivering much too fast for the club to be this humid and cramped. Jungkook’s breath coats your face in another layer of warmth, but it doesn’t help—your cheeks have been scorching for an eternity under all the chill. 

The next slow grind is one your partner prepares for, because the way he tightens his thigh tugs a slight moan from your throat, and your fingers dig into his tee.

His dark chuckle makes you bold, and you lean into his ear before offering, 

“Maybe you can make me sing, too.” 

Suddenly, you’re pulled flush against him, and you appreciate the forwardness after he seemed so shy—

“Back up, dude.”

Huh?

Snapping your gaze to Jungkook’s face, you see eyes piercing forward and hazy aura now resolute. 

When you realize who replies, your eyes roll hard.

“Relax, kid. I’m just looking.” 

“Look somewhere else.” 

He’s tense as fuck. And you feel the hand on your back press into you a little bit harder. 

You’ve only known Jungkook for less than thirty minutes. Why is he being so protective? 

It’s… Comforting, coming from him. But you don’t know why you feel this way. Shouldn’t that be weird? Why is it not?

Turning, you flick off the same creep from before, channeling a bit of energy from your long-haired guitar player, 

“Look at this then, bitch.” 

“Whatever,” he scoffs. “You’re nothing special anyways, whore. Getting famous, my ass.” And he turns to slink his way back into the crowd, some people stopping to stare at your silent reaction.

Fucking ouch. 

But, annoyingly enough, you have to let that go. That guy knows nothing about what you’ve gone through and accomplished despite, and words like that can’t affect you. 

…Right.

Your tongue juts out in pettiness before you regard Jungkook again and, amidst the surrounding giggles, you find him staring at you with words in his eyes. 

Without a single laugh at all. 

What’s he thinking about? “You good?” 

Blinking snaps him out of a trance. “Yeah. I mean.. I know you can handle dicks, but, uhm. He was being weird.” 

“Nah, that was really nice of you. Thank you.”

“Ah.. Yeah, sure.” 

Damn it. You’ve known this guy all of thirty minutes and yet you can’t stand seeing him so bothered. It’s like something turned off his light switch and shut down his spirit.

Jungkook helped you twice. Make it up to him. 

With manufactured energy, you lighten the mood, totally not doing it because you’re a little shaken by what the creeper said, too. “So.. You know I can handle dicks, huh?”

Immediately, this drops his head with a sigh. “I thought about it as soon as I said it.”

“Uh huh.”

“Swear!”

“Sure.”

He shuts his eyes in mirth, and things are back to normal. 

Not like you prefer this for your mental capacity, either. He may be grinning and happy again, but you can tell there’s still something else this angel is hiding. Something you wanna tug right out of him, no matter how far down you have to dig.

Because the saucy tilt of his mouth is giving his horns away. 

You’re ready. Make it up to him even more.

“Kinda wanna show you how,” you whisper, voice hiding none of your intentions. “If you’re down to do that, too.” 

Your stomach flips when he doesn’t flinch. Even when your face nears his. Even when your mouths almost touch. Through everything you’re doing, he doesn’t back down. 

Though his heart is giving everything away. 

“Wanna take me home?” 

He swallows hard.

“I’d take you anywhere.”

Your back bangs your door open, lips smothered as you stumble into your apartment while raking needy hands through Jungkook’s hair.

This wasn’t how you planned things to go down. You were thinking the two of you could have some drinks in your bare kitchen, maybe even share the special dessert you have saved. 

But the motherfucker just so happened to own a motorcycle, so even with him burning speed lines into your clothes, you knew you weren’t getting home fast enough. 

Special. 

The exact word you need a distraction from—

Hard plaster pokes your back before you push away, shoving but not expecting him to sling you into the opposite side of the hall, heavy boot kicking your door shut. 

He’s all over you, giving you no room no room no room to think. Just how you need it. 

When you tug on his shirt, he grunts, and you’re encouraged to yank at the collar of his jacket until he gets the point. 

“Needy.”

“Very.”

“I like it.” 

“Good.”

He tears his thick top off without breaking his lips from yours, which is so attractive that you moan into his mouth and clutch at his neck a little tight.

Which makes him release a very interesting sound.

Intrigued, you hear the drop of denim before moving in with a light choke.

And his breathy reaction has your eyes blowing wide,

“Fuck.”

“You like this, too, huh,” you ask with sultry delight, grin shiny when he gulps against your palm. 

“Mmhmm.”

Broad. Tall. Stronger than you by a long shot. 

And yet puddy in your literal hands? 

You’re gonna have fun with him. 

“I like it, too,” you admit as the two of you rush to take your shoes off. “And don’t you dare stop throwing me around.” 

“You sure?”

“Fucking do it.” 

As soon as you collide, Jungkook snatches your lips, swinging and backing you up into another hard surface. Judging by the jiggle of a plant pot at your side, you know you’re close to the living room. 

Perfect. 

Exhaling, you tug him backwards until your legs hit the arm of your couch, smirking when he gives you an impish curve himself. “Here? Or bed?”

“You pick.”

“Bed,” you rasp, suddenly primitive in all speech. “You. Bed. Now.”

Seconds later, you both burst into your room, your lips seemingly magnetized to his. Your hands can’t seem to pick a spot on his body, either, grabbing at his shoulders, his waist, his—

“Ow!”

You flinch away. “What’s wrong?”

“Think I stepped on something.” Jungkook looks down, and you follow his vision to a half opened box that you left behind in a rush. 

A box that very obviously has a pair of fluffy handcuffs inside. 

One second.

Two seconds.

In all your years of living through awkward situations, you’ve never felt a silence so palpable.

Without lifting your eyes, you bend down to close the box and gather it in your hands. “Shit, sorry about that.” 

Standing, you tap the box against a palm, hoping you didn’t make this almost-complete stranger feel uncomfortable. 

What do you do now? You aren’t phased but he might be. 

What the hell do you even say?

Diverting to jokes yet again, you blurt,

“Usually don’t admit my kinks until the second night. Sorry.”

His eyes don’t stray from your face as they slowly crinkle, and you don’t know why you feel shy. 

Is it because his soft laugh is so genuine? Relieved? Or is it because he looks like he wants to admit something, too? 

As long as you didn’t make him second guess things. That would suck; you’re having a good time. “You okay?” 

His gaze flickers from the box to yours immediately. “Me? Yeah, I just…” 

He’s still staring. What’s happening? 

Yet again, his eyes are speaking more than he is. 

Well, give him something to work with. You don’t wanna beat around any bushes when he’s looking this enticing. Either keep things going or put yourself out of your misery and let him leave without hard feelings. “I can put them away if you—”

“No, no. It’s not that.” 

Unexpected, but interesting.

Tapping his covered chest with the package, you tilt your head with a tiny pout. “What do we do with them then?” Eyeing his mouth, you ask a follow up, “You want me to put them on?” 

His breath is quickening, heartbeat thrumming across the cardboard material and into your hand. When he gulps, you can feel the atmosphere around you shift, and his responses add sparks to the smoke, 

“Yeah.” 

You’d be more than happy to—

“On me.”

Oh.

Oh.

Now this is delightful.

Humming, you move the box behind your back and lean forward, smile evolving into a devilish smirk that would make your bandmates proud, 

“Does baby boy wanna be cuffed?”

“I… Fuck.”

“I have another pair,” you divulge, sliding a finger along his covered chest. “If you wanna put those to use, too.” 

His breathy exhale is enough of an answer. But you’re gonna make him use his words for this. 

All of this.

“So if you want that… tell me.”

“I want it,” he responds without pause. “Both.” 

“Overachiever. I like that,” you chuckle, switching to a normal voice to make sure he’s really down. “But seriously, you wanna do this?” 

“Fuck yeah,” he answers just as casually, and you can tell he’s excited by the way he’s rubbing his hands. “Sounds fun.” 

“You’ve never done it?” 

“Nah.” When he shakes his wrists in anticipation, you can’t help but grin. “But I wanna try.” 

So this guy, who for all intents and purposes has you ready and willing to do whatever he wants, is the one that’s gonna surrender? 

“Who even are you,” you ask with amusement, and his laugh follows you to your closet where the other handcuffs reside—another fluffy pair since it’s your preferred style. 

For what you use them for, anyway.

As soon as you retrieve them, you hear him answer, 

“No one really.” 

“No one’s ever no one,” you counter with wisdom, clinking the two sets together before making your way back to your fuckbuddy of the night. 

Strange how that word doesn’t seem to really suit him, though. 

When you get back, he’s watching you with eyes that juxtapose dark bangs, and you almost falter when you continue, 

“Everyone’s someone to someone.”  

And you believe that, no matter what anyone says about you. You have to, have to, have to.

Jungkook stares for what seems like forever until he whispers, 

“You really are cool.” 

Your heart has got to stop skipping at that. 

Smiling, you give him a nudge and puff out, “I am, huh?” When he laughs, you hold up the restraints and offer, “Last chance to chicken out.” 

“Never.” 

“Bet.” Motioning to the head of your bed, you order, “Shirt off. Pants optional.”

Jungkook giggles—giggles—before shucking off his shirt with one swoop. 

And your emotions don’t know what to do with themselves. After wondering about it all night, once you see his actual physique, you’re certain he’s a god.

When he wastes no time in unzipping his pants, you hold strong when you halt, 

“Changed my mind.”

“Huh?”

You raise determined eyes to his face before commanding, “Leave them on.. I’ll take them off myself.” 

His lip is bitten on the side opposite the ring, and he nods before you walk up to him. 

Fuck, you can almost see the tension buzzing around the room, and its power crushes your voice when you slide a finger along his gorgeous skin, 

“Lie down for me.” 

He wets his tongue before doing just that, and you almost drool at the way his muscles ripple before he takes up the middle of your mattress. “Here?” 

“Mmhmm.” Moving to one side, you have him offer a wrist before you open a pair, wondering if you should make him comfortable with more pillows. 

Then it hits you. 

Does Jungkook really trust you of all people this much already to let you do this? Why is he so willing to let a stranger be the first to cuff him up? You know you’re responsible, but he doesn’t, so…

Hesitant, you flick your gaze to his. 

And he answers before you even speak, 

“I trust you.” 

Getting lost in stars, you question, “Why, though?”

After swallowing—once, before lips are bitten again—Jungkook continues, 

“Because I know I can.” 

“I mean… Well, we can dig into that later,” you sigh. “But, here.” You pause strapping him in to open your nightstand drawer, fishing out two keys. 

“I’ll put them right here,” you announce with two subtle clinks on the table. “And if your wrists start hurting really bad you better tell me.” 

“I will.”

“Ehh. You can even just, Hulk out, honestly. I’m getting rid of this bed soon anyways.” 

Jungkook laughs. “I’ll try not to break anything this time.” 

“How considerate of you,” you huff, blowing amusement through your nose before clutching his arm again, seeing how many clicks it takes to cuff his wrist. “I’ll try not to break you this time, either.”

When he gives you expectant eyes, they’re swirling with thoughts. Hunger. Intrigue.

Will he last what you’re about to throw at him? 

Because you’re already trembling with excitement, flutters spanning your entire belly.

“Are you clean, baby?”

He shoots you a questioning look, eyes wide. “Yeah.. why?”

“Because,” you wisp out, fluttering getting worse by the second as you round the bed, “Wanted to know before we play our game.”

“G.. Game?”

“Mmhmm.”

“What game.”

“Ah, just a silly one,” you tease. “One I play with everyone I put in these cuffs.”

His eyes never leave you, and you snap on the second pair before letting his arm dangle. And when you trace a finger down his veins, this is when you finally reveal,

“They can fuck me raw… But only if they can last longer than me.” 

Inflating. Deflating. His lungs are doing the most. “Last?”

You pout before leaning down, feeling along his perfectly chiseled chin, 

“Last without making a mess.”

He knows what you mean. You know he knows. It’s in the way his breath catches, in the way his pupils expand tenfold. 

Fucking hell, you’re already soaked. 

Without even sure if you can win, you goad, “Can you do that?”

“Yes.”

“I dunno…”

“I will.”

Despite all the big talk, you’re betting against yourself. Which sets you up for a wonderful night, if anything. 

Because if you last longer than him, it would be a miracle. 

“I’ll go easy on you,” you vow, settling onto your bed and feeling along his ribs. “So don’t worry—” 

“Don’t.”

You blink. “What?”

Metal already clanks against your bedposts, but it’s the sincerity in his voice that rings your ears. “Don’t go easy on me. Do what you want.” 

What you want? Does he even know? 

You really need to warn him about his word choices. 

“Save that offer for a real lover,” you whisper through a smile too small. “But okay. I can do what I usually do.”

You go to stand then, smirk spiced as you start to strip down to only your underwear. 

Those will come off in just a second. 

Silent, you listen to his quickening breath as you kneel onto the mattress, divots short-lived as you sling your leg over to straddle him. 

And his groan is already making you lose it. 

But you inwardly beg for him to last, plead for him to be strong enough to get through this part so he can split you in two. 

Because, after everything that’s happened, you’re so horny you probably would’ve done this whole thing in public. 

Maybe then that guy would’ve called you special. 

God. What is happening to you? You’ve never taken something to heart so stupidly. Why are you still hung up on what some dumb motherfucker said? 

Is it the imposter syndrome of late rearing its head? The way you don’t think you deserve all the dope shit that’s about to happen to your life? The amazing shit that’s happening literally right now?

Looking down, you drink in Jungkook’s body and try hard to ignore the admiration filling his eyes, feeling like you shouldn’t receive even a drop of it. 

But his brows crease before he whispers, 

“This isn’t real.” 

And something next to encouragement blooms right inside of your chest. 

His eyes close then, and you hear the faintest of curses puff from his lips, biceps tightening as he shifts in the cuffs.  

Don’t think about what happened tonight. Just think about the present. 

The wonderfully handsome present.  

Holding a moan back with your teeth, you slide both hands up his torso, marveling at how it ripples under your touch. “Eyes open, baby,” you coo. “Watch me.” 

Jungkook’s stomach caves in with a pant before he slowly wills his vision back, and you lean down to kiss his neck—once, then another. 

You can feel him tense as metal clinks ping into your ears, and the nonsense jumble against your cheek makes you chuckle far too much. 

“So sensitive here,” you tease, and Jungkook lets out another breath. “How about here?” 

When you reach to tweak one of his nipples, your whole body gets bumped as he arches upward, and the way his stomach hits your panties has you whining in his ear. 

“Fuck,” he gasps, and you can visibly see his shoulder muscles working overtime, bed creaking with his strength.

Shit, he really might break your furniture if you aren’t careful. 

But this is already way too fun to stop. 

Raising yourself with palms on his chest, you grip him and scratch downward, making sure to scrape pebbled nipples on the way down to his abdomen. When he throws his head back, you can already see locks of hair clinging to his forehead, and your grin is downright impish. 

“Almost done, baby boy,” you lie. 

“Really?” 

“Fuck no.” 

Jungkook hums through a grunt and, to your surprise, he actually chuckles. “Good,” he breathes. “This is fun.” 

How is he still managing to be so cute? 

Amused to hell, you question, “That right?” 

“Yeah.” He smiles, and you almost fall into his dimples. “I could do this all night.” 

“Now that’s a fucking lie,” you retort. “You just like being cuffed, huh.” 

“Guess so.” 

“Figured.” You start roaming nails over his skin, charting dips and ridges and skirting over hard planes. Eyes hazy and full of hunger, you grit your teeth before finding your own skin, and you glide your hands down your thighs before sliding all the way to up your bra,

“I like the pain, too.” 

The sound that leaves Jungkook adds even more slick to your center, and you giggle before squeezing your own chest. “You want this off?” 

“Yes.” 

“What was that?” 

“Please.” 

“Then take it off,” you goad, knowing he can’t do shit with his hands. “Awhh, wait… You can’t.” 

Huffs of hard breaths permeate the air, the struggle of restraint soon following. “Please,” he begs, “Just… Fuck.” 

“I mean, since you asked so eloquently,” you joke, reaching behind you to find the fastener. “Tell me what you want before I do.” 

“I want…” Jungkook’s eyes squeeze shut before he opens them again, and his chest works double-time as he struggles through. “Want them… In my face.” 

Your cunt throbs. 

Thank god you’re still kneeling over his stomach. He definitely would’ve felt that if you were straddling him the right way. 

But you have to keep the pace. What’s coming soon for you both has you vibrating so hard you might come undone. 

“In your face, huh?” You unclip the bra before sliding it down your front, and your reveal has Jungkook tugging at both chains instantly, boosting your pride and your ego. “Maybe if you behave.” 

“I will.”

You squeeze your chest again, tortuous before pinching your own nipples this time. 

“Please!”

“What will you do, baby?” you whimper, leaning forward and wanting nothing but for him to suck on your tits. But you stay strong, letting them dangle like luscious fruit in front of a man starved. “Tell me.” 

“I’ll—Do anything—” Sweat drips down his cheek, and his body is also starting to perspire all over. Which is perfect for what you want to torture him with next, and you waste no time in getting there. “Oh, fuck!” 

His reaction makes you preen, because you just thrusted your whole cunt against his abs, arms squishing your tits together as you braced him for support. 

And you moan as you do it again, thong serving as the only barrier between you both. “Kook,” you rasp out, not knowing where the nickname suddenly came from. “You feel so good.” 

“I—I can’t—”

You grab a fist full of his hair, yanking a moan out of him so sinful that you feel fire erupt around your bedframe. “What was that,” you question, breath ragged and spent already. “Giving up?” 

“No, no—shit.” 

“Good.” 

Diving down, you take one of his nipples in your mouth, rolling your tongue around and swooning at the high whine launching into your ceiling. Once, twice, five times you suck his dark skin in, moving your hand down from his head to his neck and cutting off his moan with another choke. 

And you feel his abs rock against your pussy again, making you both groan while cuffs clang taut. 

“Holy shit—”

You switch to his other nipple, humming around it and pinching his drenched one with force.

And you almost jump out of your bones at the sharp grunt of curses flying over your sweaty head. 

But for some reason, you hear something surprising. Something that you rarely ever hear while in this position. 

He’s laughing. 

Sitting up, you brace yourself while watching him, brows kissing as his smirk tilts dangerously to the side. “What’s so funny,” you rasp out, matching his expression with your own. 

When he simply chuckles, you react. Gripping his hair, you yank his head to the side again, annoyed at how it does nothing to wipe his smirk away. “I said,” you grit. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” 

Another yank. Another laugh. “Tell me.” 

“You’re just…” His eyes slide sideways to lock with yours, and what he proudly vows makes you pulse so hard it hurts,

“You’re so fucking done when I’m free.”

Fuck.

Letting him go with force, you sit back up, thighs burning and knees sore from keeping yourself propped up above his waist. “Can’t prove it if you lose, baby boy,” you taunt. 

“I won’t.” 

“Big words.” 

“Watch me.” 

“Oh, I will,” you slur, sliding down his body until your ass is high above his jeans. “Can’t wait to watch you lose.” 

And Jungkook’s reply is cut short by the way you brush your tits against his abs, gathering all sorts of slick before you reach his chest again. You give him a chaste kiss on his lips before sitting up, dragging your clothed cunt over his body once, twice, three disrespectful times. 

“Shit.” 

Groping your breasts, you bite your lip before directing a question downward, 

“You wanna kiss them, baby?” 

“Fuck yes, I do.” 

“Mm,” you hum, squeezing them together and rolling against him again. “Too bad.” 

“Please.” 

“You gotta grab them first.” You chuckle, missing the way he looks at you before you slide your panties to the side. “Damn, guess we can’t get to that part yet,” you joke, eyes wide when you finally see his face. 

Stop.

You snap into check-in mode immediately. “Hey, you okay?” 

And he follows suit, haze cleared from his visage with a crack. “Huh, me? Yeah.” 

“Wrists good?” 

“Good. They’re good.” 

“Okay,” you sigh in relief, thankful that he isn’t upset with the mood killer. “Let me know if they aren’t. You looked like you were in pain.” 

“No, I just…” He pauses to lick his lips, and you don’t expect what he says next at all. “You’re really pretty.” 

…Huh?

Has he completely lost it or is he for real? 

At least it sounded much more sincere than what you heard at the bar. 

You huff in pleasant surprise, not being able to recall the last time you received such a genuine compliment about your appearance. Does he mean your boobs? Your pussy? It’s so out there that you can only reply with, 

“Wait til you see my ass.” 

“No, I mean…” Jungkook trails off, and you glance down in the silence to see him staring at nowhere but your face. “Just, you.” 

“Oh.” 

Well then. That’s somehow harder to respond to. 

“Thank you.”

He nods at your reply before breaths are the only sound he makes, prompting you to say more than two words of acknowledgement,

“You’re fucking handsome yourself.” 

Instead of feeling embarrassed, you feel nothing but warmth. Because you don’t think even angels smile prettier than Jungkook does at your praise, and it makes you wanna kiss him just to have a taste of what heaven must sound like. 

So you do, and he seems to not expect it by the way he tenses, arms locking upward as if he tried to sling them around your shoulders. Which you kinda want, cursing the way he hasn’t given in yet. 

Stubborn as hell. 

More determined than ever, you decide to turn the heat on full, sliding your panties back to the side while still claiming a mouth rubbed raw. 

And your chuckle into his lips is devilish when you choke him, rolling your bare cunt against his torso and finally meshing your whole naked body onto his. 

Jungkook locks up immediately, gurgling high into your mouth and flinching twisting thrashing under your limbs. 

Not like you’re faring any better, pussy throbbing like a motherfucker and breath stolen in seconds. If you weren’t lip-locked with him, he definitely would be able to see your mirrored distress. 

Fucking hell, he’s gonna make you come before you get his pants off—

Wait.

Pants!

Shit, he’s probably aching down there.

“Holy shit, wait,” you rush against his teeth before letting him go. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Huh?” 

“I forgot,” you say as you glance over your shoulder. “Your jeans. I’ll take’em off.” 

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat as he begs in tiny syllables, “Yes, please.” 

Goddamn it, you were right. Laughing, you boop his nose and scold,

“Why didn’t you say anything!” 

“I thought it was part of the game!” 

“You could’ve asked!” 

“I’m not a quitter!” 

Throwing your head back, you slide off of him to sit comfortably at his side, rejoicing when your thighs and knees get some reprieve. “That’s not even quitting.” 

“It is to me.” 

Well, not as much reprieve as his dick is about to feel finally being out of these… 

He’s big. 

Oh, fuck, you can tell he’s huge. 

Fuck splitting you in two, he’s probably gonna snap you in half like a pringle.

“A what?” 

You flick wide eyes his way, horrified that you actually said everything out loud. “Did I…?”

You did. “Uh huh.” 

“Damn it.” 

When he attacks with a dashing smile, you combat it with an eye roll before unbuttoning. “Well, let’s see if I’m even right.” 

“Okay, Miss Pringle.” 

How the hell is this guy surviving while being so restrained? Even jokes still come to him easily. 

Shame you can’t allow yourself to be so into him. 

You pout before getting back to work, lips curling upwards while drool makes its way to their corners. “Careful with that mouth,” you saucily warn as you finish unzipping. “Or I might give it something to do.” 

“Please do.” 

When you feel along the warm, massive tent in his underwear, you groan at the same time he does. 

Fucking hell, he was definitely having a hard time down here. Pun very much intended. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “Does it hurt?” 

He lies. “Not much.” 

After you knowingly hum, you offer, “Want me to kiss it better?” 

“Mmph.” Hands curl into fists next to your bedposts. “That might work.” 

“Okay,” you chuckle, leaning down to give him a hearty peck to his covered length. “There.” 

“I didn’t… I didn’t feel it,” Jungkook lies again, and you shoot him a glare before you see his head thrown all the way back, chest heaving and glistening with sweat. 

“Weird.” Your lips spread into cheshire widths as an idea slams into your head. “Let me try one more time.” 

“That’d be… Best—fuck.” 

Your kiss is accompanied by a lick, and the unsatisfying flavor of cloth coats your tongue when you prolong the swipe. “Better?” 

You notice a small wet spot on his underwear, and you giggle to yourself when Jungkook gasps out, 

“Nu uh.” 

“Damn,” you pout to his cock, feeling along its ridges and wanting it stuffed far into your throat. If you hurry up and move forward with that plan, you can get it there in no time. 

You subtly tug at the hem of his jeans. “Close your eyes and take these off first. Maybe that should help.” 

When he lifts up, you slowly slide them downward, pupils dilating to the reaches of your iris when his length springs upward. 

His very, very big length.

Holy fucking shit. 

Gulping, you push his pants to the ground and try to keep your cool when you order, “Close, umm. Close your eyes.” 

You could’ve just looked over and checked. It would’ve taken two seconds to see if his eyes were shut. 

But you’re so glued to his dick that you could do absolutely none of those things. 

Trusting that he did what you asked, you move off the bed to resituate yourself, getting on again and slinging a leg over his waist. 

Only this time, you’re gonna move a lot lower than you were before. 

Psyching yourself up, you keep in a moan as you back your ass up, sliding your slick over the length of his cock before coming back to his waist. 

And Jungkook didn’t even make it a second before letting out a whine you’ll remember forever. 

Your heart clangs with the cuffs banging against the bed, thumping with force as this beautiful man twists underneath your hands. 

“Don’t—That’s cheati—”

You back up again, panties slid over your asscheek and your cunt hugging his delicious veins as you’re the second one to break into pleasure, “Holy shit.”

“Fuck!” 

“No one’s ever beat me, Kookie,” you divulge in a whine, rolling your body and sliding your essence up his torso and getting wrecked by every demanding pulse in your center. “But I really want it.” 

“I’ll fuck—I’ll fucking do it—”

“Wanna feel you like this.”

“I know—”

“Want my back blown the fuck out.”

“I can—”

“Can?”

Metal clinks and wooden creaks ring out. “Will! Just—fuck, you’re so—augh.”

Fuck, he’s making you feel so good. So powerful. “Look at me.” 

When he peels weary eyes open, you kneel up straight over his damp skin, hand reaching between your spread legs. “Is this what you want?” 

And when your fingers lodge themselves up your dripping folds, Jungkook’s jaw hangs in near-surrender, brows bent and broken in agony. His curse slides out and doesn’t stop, and he ends with a stuttered Yes. 

“Come get it then,” you goad again, bucking forward when you brush over your clit. “If you can.” 

He knows he can’t give up. You can see the conflict warring in his eyes. 

Smirking, you show only a slice of mercy, leaning forward and gripping his chest with one hand. 

And sticking the slicked fingers of another into his waiting mouth. 

What you expect is for him to moan around your fingers. What you don’t expect is for his tongue to work around them so well, eyes backlit with pure lust as he sucks them with force. 

Your jaw goes slack as you watch, visage shadowed as his cheeks hollow with each pass. You’re pretty sure you’re dripping onto his stomach in wet strings, and you want nothing more than to feel him so far into your pussy that you taste him in your throat. Just the thought alone pushes you to the edge. 

You can’t take it anymore. 

You’re gonna come. 

Sitting up, you return your messy hand back to your cunt, swirling wet fingers over your clit and sitting back onto his pelvis. “You want me to come, baby?” 

“I do.” 

“You gonna come first?” 

“N—No—” He’s struggling hard against the chains now, and you’re almost worried he’ll bust out of them before you can finish. His skin flushes a deeper color around his neck, and there’s no dry spot on his head as he watches you with unbridled lust. “Fuck, I might—” 

You work double-time, throwing your head back when you gasp, “I’m so close—” 

“Fuck, I’m about t—”

Your whine pierces the ceiling before your groan spills onto his stomach, your thighs locking around his taut waist as you feel your cunt quaking around your fingers. 

The world. It’s spinning. It’s pulling pulling tugging you in all directions and you fall until you feel solid muscle hold up the pile that is your trembling limbs.

Breathe.

Breathe.

“Holy fuck.”

You almost think that was you, but you chuckle when you realize it definitely wasn’t. Satiated, you push spent bones up with a sweaty hand before glancing down at perfection. “You okay?”

Jungkook simply exhales as he thumps back onto the bed. After a moment, he stares back, locks shiny and chest heaving so hard you think his heart’s about to break free. “You’re too good.” 

“Me?”

Another pause. “If you went two more seconds.. I’d be a goner.”

Damn. “Are you this honest all the time?” 

“Maybe,” he divulges. “But I am now.” 

Suddenly, his lazy smile starts to transform, and you don’t know why you’re feeling just as riled up as you were before. But before you can say anything, Jungkook sounds confident as hell, 

“And I’m pretty sure I just won, so...” Goddamn that slanted smirk. “You have to let me go.” 

Thoroughly amused, you hum. “Is that so?”

“I didn’t make the rules.”

“True.” You exhale. “Gimme a second.” 

Gathering yourself, you feel your own juices coating his abdomen as you slide off, both of you groaning in impatience as you shakily gather the first key. 

Almost there.. almost.. One cuff off. Now for the next—

You catch Jungkook immediately reaching for you, and you fully expect him to fondle one of your breasts. 

But instead, you feel a layer of warmth and sweat on your cheek, and you peer down to see him drowning you in starlight from below. 

Fuck. Why did your heart just lurch? “You okay?”  

He simply nods, stargaze never wavering as you round the bed to unlock the second set, leaving both fluffy cuffs hanging from exhausted bedposts. 

And you almost don’t know what to do before you cough out. “Well then. This is usually when I grab a con—”

You’re tugged forward before you feel a firm pair of arms hoist you in, and you use your feet to propel you upward right onto him before you’re squished next to his solid side. “Jung—”

Shit, he’s strong! 

Before you know it, you’re the one underneath, and you immediately feel his rock hard cock tensing against your inner thigh. Thick inked biceps surround you as your mouth gets smothered by desperation, and you lose yourself in the way every ounce of power you had transfers elsewhere. 

But now you kinda understand Jungkook’s feelings from before. 

Because you somehow, comfortably, strangely trust the man above you, too. Like you know you can. 

…Why? 

After a second toe-curling kiss, he towers over, looking hungry yet excited as hell. 

And you very much feel the same way. 

“You shouldn’t’ve let me go.”

“You—” A whine jets out of your throat when he propels forward, shoving the length of his cock against your entrance and making you realize just how tight the fit is gonna be. 

“Cus I’ll play whatever game you want.” Another thrust fuck! “But I’ll always win.” 

Your breath is ragged as you curse, loving the way this man is switching it up so flawlessly. You’re starting to wonder which position he truly prefers, if there even is one. 

“Come get your prize then,” you taunt with a brave chin. “Baby boy.”  

Lightning quick, you arch upward as he dives into your neck, whining when his fingers also make a beeline for your legs. 

He yanks one of them to the side, the burn searing through you as you feel him nick your skin with a growl. “This,” he seethes, sliding deft fingers up your folds before giving them a light tap. “Felt so perfect on me.”

You can only whine, groaning long when he swirls around your clit before leaving it, and you feel his knuckles as he grabs his cock. 

“I couldn’t stop,” you whisper to his look of concentration, meaning every word. 

He glances at your face for a second before focusing back, and you both can’t hold back your pleasure as he sticks his tip inside. 

Fuck. It may feel perfect around him, too.

“Kook,” you gasp, already seeing galaxies from how sensitive you feel. “Oh, my god.”

His grunt rolls down like boulders, breath hard and shaky on the exit. “So wet,” he grits, and you can see him visibly exerting everything to not bust already. “Hold on.”

Feeling a mix of pride and shyness, you bring him down for another kiss, letting yourself go when he returns it with fervor. 

After a second, his tongue pushes inside your mouth the same time he moves in deeper, and your legs clamp him like a vice. 

“Fuck yes,” you sigh, “Like that. Just like that.”

He feels so fucking good. Almost too good. You’re regretting just skipping to this part because you’re ready for him to erase all possibility of you walking out of your room tomorrow—

“Yeah, screw it.”

That’s the only warning you get before he pulls out slightly, only to push forward and stretch you out far holy shit!

“Baby!”

Sounds tumble from behind his clenched teeth—or words, you aren’t sure—before he flexes his arms, ramming into you again. Again. Again. 

You’re fully clinging onto him now, nails raking love lines into his shoulders and mouth stamping curses and orders into his neck. “Yes yes yes. Just like that.”

“You like that?”

“Yes!”

The way he fills you is too perfect. As he rams you into the bottom of your headboard, you fall limp and feel like this is exactly what the both of you were born to do. Conjoin just like this, stroke after stroke after toe-curling stroke. 

“So tight.”

“Fuck—Fast—go faster.”

Up until this point, Jungkook has been matching your desperation, clawing at you just as much. 

So when he halts, a switch is flipped, and your world is upturned.

“What was that? Go slower?”

No no no, he is not gonna do this right now. “No!”

“Okay, we’ll go slower.”

“Kook—”

Slinging an arm around your side, his next pumps are so slow that you almost beg for mercy, and he straight up ignores you by latching onto one of your tits instead.

You can’t you can’t you can’t stand it. It feels like you’re in parallel planes, at the edge in one and far from it in the other. So close so far not close enough. 

“Please!”

Taking his sweet time, the little shit releases your nipple with a pop before tutting, “Nope.”

And he licks at it again before you can complain, whining lust to your ceiling and digging your head into your pillows. 

You’re losing it. If you thought you were before, that was nothing compared to how you feel now. If you were chained up while he was doing this same shit you would’ve cracked your entire bed to get to him. 

He switches to your other nipple, tweaking the previous just like you did to him and making you mewl in frustration. 

“Such nice tits,” he growls, shoving into you hard before taking you in his hot mouth again. “Fuck.” 

“Baby—I need it, please—”

“Nope. We’re going my pace now,” he chuckles, swirling a hot tongue over your sensitive nub. “Unless you give up again.”

“I do,” you surrender, feeling it with your whole being. “I give up. Just—fuck the shit outta me.” 

He stares at you before relenting, your white flag the only thing he needed to break loose.

“You asked for it.” 

That’s all you get before he pulls out, slamming into you at a pace that has you spinning off your axis. Further further further you’re shoved upward, your arms so weak they fall to your sides as you give him all control.

You’re not sure if anything other than his name escapes your lips. Because that’s the only word in your vocabulary at the moment, especially when he leans down to suck on your nipples like he wasn’t just doing it seconds ago.

“Kook!”

Your name slips from his tongue almost reverently, which you’ll ponder over later because you don’t ever remember telling him what it was.

“So good,” he groans, and you can’t get over how great he feels inside. You’re being stretched to your limit and you feel him in your guts, and yet, it feels like he belongs there.

Impossible. He’s way too perfect. 

He snatches your lips once more, cutting off your thoughts with a hand to your throat. “Say it again,” he commands, and your jaw goes slack as you try to remember what the fuck you just said. 

“Hmm?” 

“My name,” he grits out before moving to your ear. “Say it again.” 

“Jungkook,” you breathe, shivering at his tightened fingers around your neck. 

“Again.” 

“Jungkook.” 

“Good girl,” he praises before nipping your ear. “Turn around for me.”

“Turn—? Mm.”

Dazed, you let him leave you with an aching need before you slowly roll, whimpering when your ass is yanked backward. 

And flinching when it’s slapped with a wet hand. 

“Fuck, it is nice,” Jungkook observes with a rumble in his tone. “Damn.” 

“Told you.”

Strong hands grip your hips higher, forcing you to assume a position on your knees. You’re already buzzing with excitement inside, but when he groans while pushing back in, your emotions whoosh out your lips.

And he grits out a snarky remark before making your whole bed shake,

“My name.” A pause. “Say it louder this time.”

Immediately, your compliance is smothered by cotton, eyes squeezed shut as his strokes hit deep and deeper and perfectly. 

“This is what you wanted, right?”

“Mm—!”

Fuck he’s hitting all the right places you can stay like this forever you’re never gonna leave—

“Torturing me.” Thrust. “Teasing me.” Stroke. “Thinking I would break.”

“Yes!” You sob, loving how this man is bringing out every side of you tonight. The bold. The repentant. Everything in between. 

“Who’s breaking now?” 

“I’m—I’m—” 

“Gimme your hands,” Jungkook commands. “My turn.”

Tears of pure pleasure run down your face as you surrender your wrists, and your eyes roll heavenward when they’re held flush against your back as he plunges in again. 

Slaps of flesh ring throughout your room, competing with your pleas and his hisses. Days from now, you’re gonna remember this exact moment, and a flame will spread through your veins like wildfire.

His name leaves you in a scream as he tilts up to hit a new angle, and you physically don’t feel any of your limbs or muscles or thoughts anymore. All you know is him him him, and it’s a fact that nothing else exists.

“Fuck, I can feel you—”

“Baby!”

Your hands are mercifully released, and sore arms thump onto the bed before you feel his sweaty front smother your slick back. Before you can process what’s happening, one of your nipples is tweaked underneath you, and you flinch hard as he chuckles.

“Mmph. Fuck, I love your body,” he admits. “Shit.”

Exercising even more strength, he hauls you up quick, your back smacking his chest as you practically sit on his thighs. 

All you can do is moan as he keeps thrusting up into your cunt, hands groping at your tits before giving them a slap. Then another. Each one making you crumble—piece, by piece, by piece. 

“Kook,” you gasp, reaching behind your head to grip his hair. “Feel so good—”

You’re cut off by fingers around your throat, pulse thrumming wildly at the pressure. Behind you, Jungkook groans before slinging an arm around to hold you in place, pistoning up and launching you into another universe. 

“Can do this all night,” he rasps in your ear. “But I wanna feel you come. Around me this time.”

Fucking hell, you’re about to. 

Your response comes out a gargle as you tense, the way he’s pounding your core rendering you limper than ever. If he wasn’t holding you up, you’re sure you would collapse flat on your face. “Gon—Gonna—I’m close—”

“I feel it.” You bend as he arcs your back like a bowstring, keeping you taut until the bitter end. “Come for me, baby.”

But your end isn’t bitter at all. 

It’s a burst of euphoria, colors spanning across closed eyes as your throat is released, wave after wave sucking you in and spitting you out back onto shore. 

Every single limb locks into place, and you can barely register the way Jungkook’s gripping your upper body to stay upright. 

“Holy fuck,” he hisses in surprise, groaning when you keep milking him with each forceful pulse. “Fuck!” 

“Baby”—you gulp, grasping for him behind your trembling spine—“Wanna see you.”

Jungkook obliges with both swiftness and care. When he lets you down gently, you sigh in relief, welcoming him with open arms and legs as he swoops down to snatch your lips again. 

His cock finds your soaked entrance instantly, and it takes nothing for him to squeeze back in with a lewd squish. “Shit, you feel—I’m gonna come.”

“Do it,” you plead, spreading your thighs as wide as they’ll allow. “Fill me up.”

He groans long before hanging his head. “Don’t say that.”

“I mean it.” When he looks at you for one more piece of assurance, you wearily grip his shoulder. “It’s okay.” 

And a fire flickers to life in his eyes. 

He brings you to a whole other level of ecstasy, sitting up and onto his haunches to spread you wide. Slippery hands grab at your thighs for balance before he rams mercilessly into your heat, and you know he’s close by the way his movement stutter. 

“Come inside, baby,” you whine, that term flying out so naturally. “Fucking do it.”

And come he does, hot spurts flinging out and painting your insides white. His groan competes with your whines and encouragement, and you love the way he stares right where he’s splitting you in half and filling you whole. 

It must look fucking erotic from his point of view.

No wonder he’s spitting more nonsense than you are. 

But, he finally stops, lodging his cock far into your cunt and making you more feral than any animal dare challenges. Overstuffed is exactly how you’d note this feeling, and you’re kicked closer to the edge the longer he stays in place.

He’s still in you why is he still there holy fuck holy fuck you’re gonna come again? 

“I’m—”

“Oh, fu—”

He grips your hips to slam into your soul one more time, and that’s what shoves you over the cliff face, teetering between reality and fiction because he’s right. There’s no way any of this is real. 

Your third orgasm is the most lethal, causing flashes of white to temporarily disorient you and leaving your bones a locked, trembling, shaking mess. 

Above you, words and praises are being spoken, but you can’t hear what they are. All you know is that your body is singing on its last drops of energy, and you take forever and a day to float back down from your high. 

One breath. 

Two breaths. 

Four breaths more. 

When he pulls out, you still feel full, and you can feel his essence drip from your entrance as his teeth block a groan. 

Does he look pleased? Satisfied? You can only guess. Because you don’t even know if your eyelids can function now. 

“So beautiful,” you hear him praise in a whisper. And a hand caresses your cheek before he sighs, “Can’t believe it.”

Why is he the one in disbelief? You’ve been admiring him nonstop ever since he gave you a drink. If anything, you should be the one thanking him for his time and his fantastic dick.

Nah. This was a lot more than a casual hookup.

But you literally can’t think about that now. 

“Gonna…” you trail off, heavy breaths making you even more exhausted. “Gonna clean up.” 

“I can help.”

“No, no, I don’t need it,” you exhale, realizing that you may be wrong if you can’t even get step one right. “Maybe just help me up.”

He giggles before sliding from the bed, and your eyes feel groggy when you try opening them. You’re gently peeled from crumpled sheets as you force them alert, and you think you look a wreck as your feet touch the floor. 

“I’ll be back,” you rasp, letting him help your hunched body to your restroom that’s five paces away. “Gimme a minute.”

“Mmhmm.”

And just like that, you give yourself some sudden privacy with a small click.

The light in your bathroom has never been your favorite. 

Even now, as you sit through its unpleasant buzz, you keep your eyes shut and your opinion the same. 

But at least it’s been there to keep you company all these years. Greeting you with a blinding flash after all your shows and hookups and bad decisions. 

Jungkook is far from a choice you regret, though. 

All your limbs are delightfully sore and spent, and you finally vacate the toilet while wondering if he’d be okay staying a bit longer. 

Would he be fine with that? Or would he wanna take off like all the others?

Starry eyes.

Warm smile.

Wrists that are probably rimmed red.

Awash with a light that you don’t quite like, you snap into action and grab cream after washing up, hoping that the shuffling you hear outside your door doesn’t mean he’s leaving. 

When you step back into darkness lifted by only moonlight, you see the silhouette of a man, and you’re relieved that it meshes with the outline of your… straightened sheets?

The noises you heard were from him making the bed? 

Your expression must be unfiltered. Because you immediately hear a faint, 

“Oh, I just, uhh. Fixed them a little. Sorry if that was weird.” 

Adorable as hell. 

You don’t say anything until you slide onto the mattress. “Lemme see your wrist.” 

“Hmm? Ah, they’re okay.” 

“False.” You firmly take one of his forearms, admiring the canvas of tattoos before checking if he has a temporary one around the base. 

He does. He very, very much does. Because with all that thrashing, why wouldn’t he? “Fuck, this doesn’t hurt?” 

The only answer you get is a shrug, and you try not to get distracted by his bare chest as he gives a noncommittal sound. “I was just gonna deal with it.” 

“Ugh,” you groan, wondering if even making the bed must have stung. “You don’t have to be stubborn anymore.” 

Sitting against your headboard, you motion for him to sit up next to you, silent as he obliges with a small grunt. 

Gently lying his arm on your thigh, you unscrew your cream before gathering a good amount, hearing him hum a popular tune to himself. 

And you softly kiss his wrist before rubbing the healing ointment on, wondering why the hell you did the first thing so naturally. 

Is it because this is his first time doing this sort of thing? Judging by the jagged burns etched into his skin, he was a bit overzealous…

No. You don’t just kiss wrists like that. 

For some reason, it just felt right to do so. 

Of course this happens to you now. If only you found this wonderfully strange man before. Or at least noticed him sooner. Maybe then… You…

He’s humming again. 

But this one isn’t popular at all. 

In fact, it’s the complete opposite, and such a shock that burns bloom at the edges of your eyes. 

Voice the smallest it’s ever been, you turn to ask in the dark, “You know that song?” 

Under faint moonlight, Jungkook looks like a boy caught with hands that match his wrists. “Uh, I… Yeah.” 

There’s no way. 

Absolutely no way. 

Gulping, you try hard to keep your sentence level as it leaves, “That’s the first one I ever released.”

“I know.”

“It’s only on Youtube… On a page I don’t even use anymore.”

He pauses while looking at his wrist on your frozen thigh. “I know.” 

Stunned, you can’t believe what’s happening. Everything you learned about this man flies out the windows of your brain to make room for this one fact. This singular fact that has you nothing but shell-shocked.

“…How?”

He swallows before lightly holding your fingers. When he presses them a bit tighter, you feel him shake. “Ah. I wasn’t planning on saying this, but I… I know all your songs.” 

“You do?”

Jungkook nods, and both of your gazes are firmly locked—yours, his face; his, far from yours. “You remember that show you did at The Love Club? When you got tangled up and fell?”

Ah. Time to look away. “You mean my first show ever that was a total waste of time? Thanks for reminding me.”

“A waste of time?” He scoffs with confusion. “Nu uh. I was there with a friend that night, and I thought you were so… I dunno how to explain it.” 

“Uncool?”

“Amazing.” 

You shoot him a look, and he plays with your sheets. “No one else would’ve played after that. But you did, even when your hand was messed up.”

No crying. You cannot cry. 

You saw that first gig as an absolute failure, and that was years ago. After your hand was banged to hell, you knew you weren’t gonna get another chance. 

But you played anyway. You saw the whole gig through and held in your tears until after you left to rush to your car. 

What if you didn’t?

If you never played that first night… Where would you be now?

“After seeing that? I knew you were gonna be somebody.” You stare at nothing when he continues with reverence, “I’ve been following you ever since.”

Your chest feels heavy when you give him a look. “This whole time? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t wanna make it weird.” 

This is when you realize.

That’s why he looked familiar. 

Even though you had never met him, you must have seen him in all the crowds you pulled—big or small, quiet or loud, exciting or rude. 

Jungkook was there? The whole time?

While you’re grappling with several emotions, he scratches his ear. “And, uhh. If you haven’t noticed, you scare the shit out of me.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He laughs while you give him a light shove, thankful for this break in uncomfortable things called feelings. “You just broke my entire spine.” 

“This wasn’t the plan, by the way.” 

“Oh, so you did have a plan, huh?”

“No, no, it’s not like that!” 

Why does his laugh have to be endearing as hell? You’re already weak from his dick, his laugh cannot win you over, too.

And his smile shines so brightly. How did you miss him in the crowds? 

After a sigh, he leans his head back against your headboard. “I really was only planning on saving you. But then things kept happening and happening… like a dream. I couldn’t believe any of it.”

“I had fun with you.”

“And that guy… I just—” He grabs at his hair before letting his arm down with frustration. “He’s wrong, okay?”

Before you can stop yourself again, your heart starts to leak from your eyes. “I guess.”

“He is.” Visibly annoyed, Jungkook shakes his head and holds back his tongue. “He knows nothing.” 

Just like that, everything that you’d been shaken by falls to the wayside. You thank everything that Jungkook was there. That he believes in you. That he decided that tonight was the night to be brave. 

Touched beyond belief, you squeeze his hand. “Thank you.” 

He nods, eyes hesitant. “And uhm… I can leave, too, if you want.” 

“Huh?”

Didn’t this man just say he’s been there since day one? Didn’t the two of you just have mind-blowing sex? He’s fine giving you space after all that? 

You’ve never met someone this wonderfully confusing.

“I can go now, if that’s what you want.”

“What do you want?”

The incredulous look he gives makes your heart pulse. “Me?”

Smiling, you reiterate, “Yes, you. What do you wanna do?” 

“Not go.”

Both of you share a quiet laugh before you offer, “Then don’t.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m cool with it.”

“You’re always cool.”

…Holy shit.

When Jungkook said he’d just been calling you cool, he didn’t mean just tonight. He meant... 

This whole time, you’ve had someone silently cheering you on and seeing your ups and downs. Someone that knows your songs by heart and yet was too nervous to say anything. Someone that finally decided to say something at the first sign of your doubt. 

How do you thank someone for that? How do you show appreciation that can’t be conveyed with lyrics or words or any language you know? 

Years from now, you probably still won’t have an answer.

“Ah, stop. We can’t both be shy,” you finally scold with a smirk, huffing at his nose scrunch. “Anyway. I don’t have much here anymore, but I do have food.”

Nudging him, you raise an eyebrow. “Wanna come to my kitchen for ramen?”

He realizes what you mean instantly, grinning before a reply you don’t expect,

“If you come over to see my cat.”

Did he just..?

The two of you share a serious look before bursting into laughter, and you don’t know why you’re enjoying yourself so much. But you’re welcoming it all, and even considering his offer quite seriously. 

“I respect it,” you huff with pride. “If I’m ever back in this city, I’ll know where to go.” 

“Wait, what?”

Oh.

Fuck.

Goddamn it.

Being at peace with this information for awhile now, you let it slip without thinking. It’s just a part of your daily knowledge. 

But there isn’t any news out there about this change. No one except the band and whoever you decided to tell knows, so it absolutely would be a shock.

Shit. 

You feel nothing but regret when you prepare your confession, and its shadow transfers like an ink stamp into your voice, 

“I’m moving.”

Don’t give those eyes. 

Stop staring like that. 

“Where?”

Why does your chest feel too heavy to carry? This shouldn’t be how the night ends. Not like this. “Somewhere pretty far from here.” 

Don’t ask when. Don’t ask when. Because you don’t wanna tell. 

“…When?”

You really don’t wanna tell.

Mustering all the courage you’ve ever had, you compromise, “Let’s have a good fucking night, and then I’ll spill.” 

Jungkook stares like he already knows the answer, but he’s a good sport nonetheless. 

Cracking his knuckles, he promises with a broken smile, “Then I’ll make tonight the longest one ever.” 

“Good,” you whisper, getting up and welcoming the way he slings your leg around his lap. “Because I’m not even close to being done with you.”

When you kiss him, he latches on with newfound energy, keeping it condensed and powering it straight into your soul. 

And whether or not you made it into the kitchen for ramen, you don’t remember for sure.

All you know is that you escaped the future for another two and a half hours.

And he made sure to make it feel like eight. 

-

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fin. :’))

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<3 ahhhh so how did it go !! <3

A/N: well hello, y’all! this is my first jk fic in a long ass time, so i hope you enjoyed! finally got the guts to finish and post it thanks to all of you, so thank you for giving me all the encouragement and final push<3 silent and active readers alike, this is a subtle love letter to you, because i know you’re there even if you don’t say anything! i still wanted to thank all of y’all in some way for being here. A/N 2: again, huge ass thank you to everyone! the ending is open to interpretation but i did love writing this couple, so.... you never know :’)) if y’all enjoyed them then who knows what ends up happening later down the line!  ++  feedback box:  ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated!  ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here!  ++  more links:  ⇥ masterlist 

[fayes-fics]

Audacious

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Sequel to Impertinent. After your engagement party, Anthony asks you to rendezvous in his office to continue where you left off.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, innocence/corruption kink, sex education, mutual masturbation, orgasms.

Word Count: 2.2k

Authors Note: Sequel request fill for @cleopatraathene to continue the story from Impertinent (ask HERE). Sorry, it's taken so long, my dear. Err, this could well turn into a series at this rate. Thanks to @colettebronte for betaing. Enjoy! <3

The bejewelled band feels weighty around your left ring finger as you rap your knuckles quietly upon his study door. It's late, and the last thing you want is for anyone to know what you are doing.

After a pause, the hinges creak, and a hand snakes out and grabs your arm.

Before you know it, you are dragged through the door, and it closes with you pressed against the other side, the room heady with the scent of recently smoked cigars and expensive brandy. Anthony is casual in just a white shirt, sleeves rolled up around his elbows, braces slung around his hips.

“Fiancée,” he rumbles, his nose trailing up your neck as he leans in, the wood of the door panels digging into your bottom through the thin layer of your silk robe. “Did you enjoy our engagement party?” he queries, teasing your throat with soft kisses.

“Yes,” you answer breathily. “A-And I did as you asked.”

He pauses in his ministrations; you can feel the curve of a smile over your skin. “What did I ask you to do?” he knows the answer; he just wants to hear you say it.

“To return this evening exactly as I was last night.” 

He tuts softly, his nose trailing up the cord of your neck. “But you are wearing something, so you are not as you were.”

“I could hardly walk through the halls of your home naked, my lord!” you gasp.

He chuckles richly, his breath hot in your ear. “On the contrary. This is soon to be all yours. As Viscountess, you can do exactly as you wish. Or as I wish. And sometimes, I may wish you to be naked at my bidding,” he straightens up and looks down at you, dark eyes glittering. “Would you do that for me? Would you walk naked where I told you?“

Again, as last night, you feel under a spell. “Yes, my lord,” you whisper truthfully.

“Audacious,” he rasps approvingly, “just how I like it,” the last few words muttered over your lips before capturing them with his.

Your stomach quivers at his praise, then vaults at the first brush of his mouth, knowing that now you are betrothed, he has promised so much more. His lips are warm and soft as he slowly parts your lips, his tongue rolling, requesting entry. Instinctively, you open, a wave of luscious wet heat as his tongue lathes over yours, a dance that has you inside melting and a throb at the apex of your thighs that is entirely foreign but enthralling. As he breaks away, you chase his lips, eyes still closed, wanting more of his heady kisses. He grabs both of your hands and pulls you to the centre of the room, the fire warming the backs of your calves as he releases his hold.

“Take off your robe,” his order soft.

Your trembling hands scramble to obey, making quick work of the knot at your belly, pushing the material off your shoulders so it flutters onto the rug behind you so you are naked. There is a throaty noise and he takes a step back as if to better drink in the view of your body. His lush bottom lips curling under his upper teeth, his eyes covetous, roaming your skin.

“You should never wear clothes,” he opines, backing further away, grabbing a wingback chair and scraping it across the carpet until it is behind him. He takes a seat, his eyes never leaving your form.

“Spin for me.”

Heart beating fast, you rock onto the balls of your feet and rotate away so you face the blazing fire, your back towards him. Then you slowly complete the circle until you are facing him again, his expression ravenous.

“A perfect specimen. Now touch yourself,” the order is gruff.

You frown at him. “Where, my lord?”

“Are you to tell me you have never put your fingers between your legs?” he scoffs, disbelieving.

“N-no, my lord? Should I?’ 

The dancing flames of the fire are almost too hot on your bottom, as he answers in a cool register. “Yes, you should. But perhaps I should be the one to instruct you as your future husband.”

With that, he stands from his seat, walking purposely towards you, his boots heavy on the rug as you take a deep breath. He grabs your right wrist, bringing your fingers up to his lips and engulfing them in his hot mouth, his tongue questing against the pads of your fingers, the suckle of his lips sensual and damp.

With a salacious pop, he pulls off your fingers, his lips quirking into a knowing smile as he guides your wetted fingers to your chest.

“Touch your nipples,” he instructs quietly.

You gasp as his cooling saliva meets your flushed, puffy areola, puckering instantly under the pad of your fingers. 

“That feels good, does it not?” he dusks, wrapping his hand over yours to direct your caressing of yourself, his fingers never touching your nipple but directing your movement like a puppeteer, taking the fingers of your left hand and repeating the suckling action, guiding your fingers to your other nipple.

All you can do is nod and bite your lip, pushing up into your own hands, squirming slightly from foot to foot, feeling a dampness smear on your inner thighs as you do, your tummy replete with butterflies under his heavy gaze.

He guides your fingers over the swell of your lower breast and down over your stomach, chuckling as the teasing trail of your own fingers makes you giggle lightly, your belly rippling. His eyes flash as his hand guides yours lower, trailing into the patch of hair at the apex of your thighs, something thronging between your legs at the molten look on his face.

Two of his fingers curl over the back of yours, turning your middle and pointer fingers into a hook before he pushes your hand lower. Again, you gasp as your fingers slide at his insistence into some folds of skin between your legs, damp and sticky. His face is dashingly mischievous as he places those hooked fingers over a certain swollen nub and swirls them slowly in an anticlockwise motion. You startle at the spike of pleasure that rushes through your body, the epicentre under your attentions.

“How does that feel, fiancée?” he murmurs, tone like velvet.

All you can do is stutter his name on a shaky exhale, your other hand shooting out to grab his muscular forearm where it presses your belly, the dark hairs there tickling your palm as you grip around him, needing the anchor, your knees feeling oddly weak.

“Oh, you like that…” he huffs, amused, as he crowds into you, his hand covering yours between your legs, dictating your movements, a shiver running down your spine at the fizzles of pleasure sparking around your body. “Do not stop,” his voice low, resonant, his lips hot on your temple, you moaning lightly and leaning into him.

A sweet-tart scent fills the air, your fingers coated in a slick, viscous substance that can only be from your own body, a soft, wet noise emanating from where you touch yourself.

“That is my favourite sound in the world,” Anthony sighs into your ear, “so ripe and ready for me…just wait until we are married.”

“What will happen?” you inhale, trying your best to concentrate even as you feel your body swelling under your own touch, engorged, hot, craving more friction.

“All in good time…” he answers enigmatically, his breath a touch uneven.

The slightly rough texture of his cotton shirt snags delightfully against your nipples as you writhe, riding your own fingers and his, wishing it were his skin touching yours. There is something hard in his britches that rubs your stomach with each move you make.

“Do not stop,” he gruffs.

You whine as he steps away, craving his heat, his toned body glorious to rub yourself against, akin to a cat.

“My lord…” you mewl, appealing for him to return, swaying unsteadily on your feet even as you continue to touch yourself as instructed.

“That is it, keep going up,” he encourages, retaking the seat and staring at you covetously, one of his hands falling to his lap, palming a swelling there.

“What are you doing, my lord?” 

You are intrigued by his soft panting as he roughly tugs at the buttons on his trousers.

“I am doing as you are,” he groans, “I am touching myself, My cock.”

With that, he fishes something out from his white underwear that makes you inhale sharply. A red, almost angry looking rod of flesh that stands proud of his body from a dark thatch of hair. The slight is intriguing and makes you pulse heavily between your legs as if innately knowing it belongs there.

You feel yourself moving towards him, like a magnetic pull, your fingers still sliding over that hardened pearl between your legs as you get closer, hypnotised by the sight of his hand, now in a fist, moving up and down his swollen cock.

“Cock…” it falls from your lips reflexively as you stare.

He groans loudly at your utterance, a shiny pearl of wetness pooling at his tip as he does so.

You feel feverish, not just because of the roaring fire in the hearth, but a blaze inside, a flush running through you that makes your mind feel both fuzzy and sharp, singular in pursuit of pleasure, your fingers moving faster now between your legs, varying your speed and motion.

He hisses his approval as your knees buckle, sinking to a kneel on the rug, your knees splaying wide, your fingers freer to move, but your eyes never leave his hand, his motion a quick twisting tug now.

“Does that not hurt?” you blurt out breathily, not pausing, chasing a high you can feel hovering so tantalisingly close, a tingle over your lips and the back of your scalp.

“No, it feels just as good as your fingers do on you,” he assures, broken, huffing now. “I will teach you,” he adds, meeting your gaze heatedly when your eyes ping to his face briefly.

Something about this feels so decadent and luxurious, the same as his velvet jacket was on your skin last night, the garment that catalysed this whole tumultuous journey.

“Swap hands,” he commands, cutting into your wayward tangent, and you find yourself obeying on instinct. “Give me that other,” he rejoins. Before you know it, the fingers that were between your legs are in his mouth, his tongue curling and sucking wantonly, feeling the vibration of his groan over your fingertips as he cleans all your juices from your fingers, his hand a frenzy on his cock now.

Your other hand feels different; something about the catch of your blunt fingernails between your legs has you hurtling towards some crescendo, your skin feeling almost too tight over your bones, a pressure behind your ribs as your heart thunders, almost like you are trying so hard to chase and hold in something explosive.

“Oh, you are there, aren't you?” Anthony growls around your fingers still in his mouth, sounding wild, his motions untamed, gusting deep breaths out of his nose as he leans forward, eyes intense and glassy.

All you can do is nod, almost frantic, as if seeking permission to break, circling an abyss. Your fingers fall from his mouth as he groans loudly.

“Come for me, fiancée,” he grits out.

Unsure what that means, you just keep moving, feeling something snap inside that has you calling out and curling over, a scream escaping your lungs as your body seems to retract and explode outwards, your mind scattered to the wind as an ecstatic wave fans out from your core around your body, your muscles twitching.

You are brought back to the room by a noise he makes—hungry, gravelly, all male. As your breath returns, your eyes reopen to see him in the throes of ecstasy: an arresting sight. One curl of hair flopped over his dewy forehead, his lower lip caught under his upper teeth, eyes wild and unfocused, then screwing shut as he roars, his hand a frenzy on his cock which seems to pulse in his fist before spurting a substance in an arc part of which splashes warm across your chest, taking you by surprise.

That seems to signal he has reached a peak, too, his body wracked by a few aftershocks before he slumps back into the chair, panting, his hand slackening as he stares transfixed at the sticky streak of his cum over the upper swell of your breast.

“Are you well, husband?” you check, fascinated but concerned.

He doesn't correct the title you bestow upon him. “More than,” is his laconic, sated response, an easy smile claiming his face as he unfurls a sleeve to tenderly clean your breasts of his seed. “This is only the beginning,” he promises, cupping your cheek affectionately. “Run along and get some rest; we shall meet here again tomorrow.”

You cannot wait.

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