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1800titz · 3 months

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HI FRIENDS. WOOOOOOOOOOO. Camprry. Aimed for 5K or less and managed to get wordy again. Reader insert and basically pure smut. This one was supposed to be vanilla with some praise kink (and exhibitionism if you SQUINT since it’s in a tent) but….. hahahahaha….. WEEEELLLLLLL.

CONTENT WARNINGS: oral sex, face fucking, exhibitionism-ish if you squint, choking-ish if you squint, light dom/sub, praise kink, daddy kink, intercourse

WC: 7.5K (whoops)

There is nothing remotely sexy about a camping trip.

In fact, Y/N thinks that if she were to deduce a list of words upon first thought when it came to camping, sexy would be the furthest one from qualifying.

There’s nothing sexy about reverting to caveman-ism, sleeping on the ground, sheathed by some paper-thin layer of nylon and polyester and plastic support beams. There’s nothing sexy about pit stains from the lack of air conditioning or its antithetical twin sister, the bumps that rise over chilly skin and trembling bones without the luxury of an electric heater. There’s nothing innately erotic about kindling fire like electricity doesn’t exist, and cooking hot dogs on skewers over the flame, and perpetually swatting at insects that incessantly stick to shins and calves like the flesh there is coated in sugar.

There is something sexy, though, when it comes to the way Harry’s arms work as he pitches a tent, bi’s and tri’s intermingling in an alluring duet, pumping and settling with each motion. The sleeves of his tee ride up when he raises the limbs, and sunlight catches shadow in ridge and sinew of muscle. There’s something sexy in the way his back ripples, in the way that thin fabric does nothing to cover what she imagines — no, what she’s well aware lies underneath. The same traps and lats she’s scraped her nails over and dug into. The same shoulders she’s sunk her teeth into to bridle cries of bliss.

There’s something hot about the cinch in his brow when he works, something alluring in the curl at the plush of his mouth when he turns his head and beams lopsidedly at something that their friend has said, too low for Y/N to catch. There’s something sexy in the way that his eyes skim her frame when she’s sitting in a fold-out chair with sunglasses. When his eyes glide over his shoulder. It’s in the most subtle way. There’s something sexy in the way he tears that gaze away.

There’s something sexy in the way that no one around them knows she spends nights bouncing on his cock.

This lustrous affair — this sneaky fling. This filthy, dirty secret that only the two of them share, slinking and sidling through the shadows.

Really, it’s nothing more than a raunchy circumstance of friends-with-benefits, only kept on the down-low to evade prying questions from friends and the sickly confrontation of …feelings. Because it’d be easy to admit they’re fucking, that they’ve been hooking up for months after an impromptu, late night of drinking. But then it’s sort of cementing, right? At least, in a way.

There’s a status that floats about when you confess you’re sleeping with somebody — when you admit that you’ve entangled them into your routine beyond one mishap of sex. In the eyes of your friends, admitting that you’ve upkept a sex buddy through the roll of the seasons is, like. Well, it’s basically admitting some form of something sentimental.

They’re just fucking. They’re just friends that fuck. And the way that nobody around them has any sort of suspicion that he’ll most likely be slipping into her tent in the midst of the night for that...

That’s sexy, the young woman thinks.

They’re coiled around the campfire once the sun has ducked out and simmered off behind the trees, and Y/N thinks about it. She watches the shape of his features glow beyond the crackle of the flame, and she thinks about the way his nose bumps over her clit when he licks into her. She watches his mouth move when he talks, a muted strawberry that’s dimmed in the night, and she thinks about the cushion of it pressing open-mouthed kisses to her flesh. She’s in his sweatshirt, because she had to borrow one, and it smells like him. She’s coated in it — his scent. Warm, pleasant musk and remnants of tantalizing cologne. It reminds her of the way the same sweatshirt had been discarded and draped over the foot of her bed haphazardly one night, as he kneed his way onto the mattress and clambered over her, fingertips exploring and tongue trailing. It reminds her of the way he smells when he brushes past her in the company of others, just solid weight and warmth. He does it nonchalantly, but the green of his eyes is knowing and flirtatious. That’s when the same scent teases her senses. It reminds her of the way he smells when he’s up close and personal, when he’s rocking against her and groaning softly into the nook between her shoulder and her neck.

She stares at his hands — the way they lay over the armrests of his fold-out, the way lengthy digits adorned with chunky rings cradle a can of beer. She imagines the same fingers wrapped over her throat, squeezing lightly, in that way that he does.

Y/N isn’t panting into the chill of the air. The white of her exhales just surface …quicker. His hands, and his smell, and his mouth are entirely irrelevant to the matter.

By the time they all retire to their respective tents, the young woman is pleased to get a breather from his hands and his …ludicrously plush, smiley mouth. At least in a public circumstance, so she can’t be caught fawning over his mannerisms from a distance. The smell …she can’t escape that. In all honesty, it should be shameful, basking in the scent of a sweatshirt. Instead, she coils up in it under the covers.

She’s turned on her side with gritty rock coursing through wire, chords of guitar and drums rippling out from the little speakers in her ears, entirely engrossed as she scrolls through what little apps can manage access without a durable station of wifi.

Y/N nearly squeals when an arm slinks over her chest, when a palm nudges over her mouth. And then another hand is plucking at one of the earbuds, giving her leeway into the crinkle of the sleeping bag, crickets, and the sound of bated breaths behind her.

A low baritone, hushed and teasing against the same ear where the earbud’s been removed, “Easy, baby.”

The gentle murmur that his lips shape does, frankly, little to soothe the hammer of her heart. In fact, if anything, the muscle soars in pace behind bone with the way cushiony pink grazes her jaw, the way his warm weight presses up behind her.

“Easy.”

She’d sit up and turn over her shoulder if she had the opportunity, but the same inky, muscly arm she’d admired hours earlier cradles over, preventing the motion. Harry can tell too, evidently, based on his soft snicker. He’s pleased from the way her head juts to steal a peer back. He’s pleased when she doesn’t succeed.

Instead of letting up, he takes the same earbud he’d pulled out and presses it into his own ear so that they’re sharing the set, crooning, “What are you listening to? Hm?”

He sponges another kiss to the side of her throat, a stray tendril flopping over his forehead. Y/N knows that he’s listening to it, too, then. She knows from the playful, little nudge of his head with the rhythm, from the way the cord of the earbuds grows taut, from the sound of mirth he muzzles to her skin when he drives his mouth over the side of her neck. The young woman wriggles her arm, just enough for his grip to loosen, and then uses the opportunity to raise her head to take her own earbud out. The motion jostles Harry from the nook he’s seemingly made homage in, and he nips at her earlobe in protest. Anyways, the whole thing sends a chill wracking down her shoulders.

When he lets up, Y/N twists in his grasp to her back. The earbuds splay over her chest, his own discarded, too. There’s still music seeping softly. She blinks, gaze tracing over his features, basked in shadow and soft amusement.

“Hey,” she croaks, her voice catching on a crack with the effort to keep quiet.

And Harry drags a thumb down her stomach, fingers meddling where the fabric of her (no, his) hoodie has rucked up. The ticklish sensation makes her shift a little. His mouth quirks, and he smooths over the same spot again.

“Hey, you.”

Her lips part and her tummy jolts when he slips the chilly pad of his thumb back over the line he’d run for a third time. She wants to bring her own hand up and trace the contours of his cocky mouth with her fingertips. It shapes the words, like baritone bathed in honey, “Ticklish?”

When he brushes over a fourth time, her arm twitches, and her hand shoots for his wrist, squeezing lightly. Corners of muted pink spring up, dimples scoring softly.

“Yes,” she gripes in a whisper, but the gripe doesn’t come out very gripey at all. Instead, it’s sort of small — that’s on account of his warm weight shifting onto her. Which is a new development, and it’s one that stirs something familiar and warm below the sleeping bag she’s nestled into, half-zipped and mostly just thrown over.

His sturdy thigh slips in the empty gap between her own, and Harry ducks his head, the dimples deepening and the glint of white teeth escaping through the part of his lips. And then he dips lower until his face is nearly tucked into her hair.

“I missed you,” his admission is soft-spoken. It’d be sort of tender if it didn’t come out so …hungry.

Y/N takes in a little, shuddery breath. The same hand that's settled over her hipbone comes up to brush hair away from her throat, and a mouth stipples kisses over her pulse. His voice is a raspy, desirous tease, “Did you miss me?”

Christ. She thinks that maybe if he were telepathic and had even a brief glimpse into the filthy things that’d cycled behind her skull for the duration of the day, then he’d only be more smug.

That’s dangerous.

She’s glad he isn’t.

The young woman hums — an apathetic sound that feigns contemplation, like his touch doesn’t light every nerve ending in her system on fire, like she hasn’t spent hours staring at his arms, his mouth, his hands. Like she hasn’t been picturing expanses of muscle and skin hidden under his tee, imagining her tongue tracing through the vales of his v-line and her fingertips following the trail of hair below his belly button, slipping lower and lower…

“No?” Harry murmurs, lips bumping wetly over her flesh. What follows is a gentle exhale, and then his mouth is sponging another open-mouthed kiss, and his tongue brushes warmth against her, like he’s petting with it over her pulse. He caresses all the way back to her ear. Something dirty and thrilling slinks down the knobs of her spine when he mumbles, unconvinced, “I think you’re lying to me, little miss.”

Her breath stutters.

“I think,” Harry muses, fingers dipping beneath the shroud of the sleeping bag and smoothing back over her waist testingly, “that if I had a look right now, you’d be a drippy mess.”

Her throat bobs on a swallow. Petulantly, and so obviously feigning, Y/N tips her chin back and tells him, “…Not at all.”

Instead of smoothing tips of digits back over the naked, little expanse of skin again, they venture lower, teasing at the waistband of her sleep shorts. “I think your sweet, little pussy would tell me otherwise, wouldn’t it, pet?”

Another deep breath rolls her chest under the cushioned sheet of fabric when fingertips dwell in. Just centimeters, practically. They retreat. Harry presses another kiss just below her ear.

“Hm? It’s been so empty all day long. Achy, I bet.” Chills rise awake all over when he murmurs, purely condescending pity painting every syllable, “Poor baby.”

He’s always had it — this gift of filthy, dirty gab. This ability to render her craving and wanting with his words like it’s innate, practically. She shouldn’t be surprised when he shifts over her, just enough for her to feel how hard he is, tips of his curls tickling at her cheek, “Could stuff it full. Make it all better.”

Y/N sighs. Finally. Like it’s a release of the whole act, and the seams of it come apart to bliss when he nips with his teeth. She cranes her neck to give him more room to work.

“Would you like that?”

And she would, she thinks. Very, very much, and his lingering fingers — when they pull out and he hooks a thumb in and just tugs down a smidge — remind her of how hot she suddenly is. How hot everything is, despite the chill in the air. Instead of answering, the young woman nudges with her chin — a nod. An unsatisfactory one, evidently.

“Words,” Harry mutters. It’s gentle, and quiet, and she hopes the polar opposite of the way he’s going to fuck her.

She cranes her neck more and splays her thighs what little she can under his weight. It’s kind of a plea. It’s also sort of pathetic. “Yes.”

But it makes his mouth crook. His palm draws away. No. That wasn’t the intended effect. She curbs her sound of protest, but he can tell that it’s bridled in the chamber — she knows because the curl of mirth grows wider. He sits up a bit, bracing on his arms until he hovers over her, and then he sighs, jade sliding to the sector of the bag that’s zipped. Slowly, like he’s teasing, he grips over the notch and tugs.

“What d’you do if you want me to stop?” Harry beckons, nearly a whisper but not quite, fingers skimming up under his hoodie. The same hoodie clings to her flesh, and every nerve sparks alive at the touch, striking her lungs to expand heavier. The air catches when the pads of his fingers graze up the vale of her sides and siphon a flinch.

“Teacup,” Y/N breathes the safeword in response, and the fingertips climb her ribs like a staircase, pleased.

“Good girl,” He tells her, and the pads sink back over, bumping over the ridges, and he tugs the fabric up over her chest.

Her bra is red. It’s a nice detail, all lacy cupped over her chest. He draws the tip of an index over the edge and says, “Cheeky,” like his comment isn’t, “…Did you wear this to get fucked?”

The young woman gnaws at her lip. Innately, it’s not an accurate statement. She didn’t wear it to get fucked — not when she knew he’d be slipping into her tent in the midst of the night and fucking into her regardless of the state of her underthings. But it’s a nice touch when he ducks, palm squeezing over one of her tits, and tacks on all low against her ear, like it’s praise, “Because you know I love you in red, pet.”

The satisfaction of pleasing him buds in her chest, right at the core of her ribcage, warmth pitted deep, and it slinks out like beams of gooey sunshine, winding and seeping through the cavity until her veins practically thrum yellow. She’s buzzing beneath him, pulse thumping and fibers of muscle twitching. It makes his mouth curve — the way he feels her trembling under him like she’s a taut string, and he traces a thumb over her mouth.

Then jade flits to her chest, and Harry takes the thumb away to hook fingers under the cups and tug. They settle under her tits, perking them, and the way the wire settles over her ribcage isn’t particularly comfortable, but it doesn’t really matter. Not when he shimmies down her body and draws a stripe down with his tongue, all the way from the hollow of her throat to the edge of the bra, settling in between. He kisses down her stomach, green salacious and twinkling up through shadow at her, and his tongue draws a circle around her belly button. His mouth quirks there, too, because it makes her flinch. Because he knew it would. Harry brushes with wet taste buds lower, settles on a side, low on her tummy, and sucks a pressing kiss. Her whole spine wrings and writhes, arching when he pairs the sensation with a dull graze of his hand over a nipple. It’s barely anything, but it’s a touch she longs for. And she doesn’t know why, but it always lights her on fire when the pleasure entwines with something that makes her want to squirm out of her own skin.

Because when he turns the graze into a pinch and a roll, when he hones on the drag of his tongue and the suckling of his mouth, when he skirts featherlight fingertips up her side like he’s plucking invisible strings, the yellow thrums red, and hot, and hungry. When his mouth lets up and he drags wet lips to curl over the opposite nipple and the featherlight turns more purposeful, squeezing at sensitive flesh, this knocked-out unph escapes her, like a bridled grunt he’s punched from her. Like a half-laugh, like a moan, like a mottled gasp, like discomfort and please-don’t-stop enmeshed, curbed out of desperation. It makes the red fucking neon.

Harry withdraws with a pop from the bud, and the air bites onto the wet to replace his mouth. The ambiance of rickets and cold reminds her that they’re kind of, sort of, definitely in public, only really shielded from said public (and the intrusive presence of their friend group) by thin sheets of nylon erected with plastic poles. Her eyes say it all then — this hesitation sparking, lashes bouncing and bounding from the nervous shift of her pupils, working from his eyes to his plush mouth and back as he rises to settle over her more.

“They’re asleep,” he promises, a hushed murmur he seals to her own mouth in a sloppy half-kiss. His top lip ghosts over her cupid's bow, and he smooths a hand back over the vale of her waist where he’d squeezed a second ago. Her chest rolls under him, and her mouth parts, just a little to let a mottled little sound escape, like a wheezing gasp she’s muffled.

And he muffles it more with his own lips, pressing against her. The sleeping bag rustles, and it’s quiet beyond the stilted sheets barring the wilderness. Harry’s hand skims down.

“Where do you want me to touch you?” Harry murmurs into her mouth, palm trailing until it stills at the waistband of her shorts, fingertip lingering over an expanse of skin below her belly button that he’s well aware will have her squirming. Y/N jerks. “Here? Or… maybe…”

The young woman practically does a squished, weighted version of a body roll beneath him when he moves his hand to her inner thigh, dragging the pad of his index over the sensitive skin higher up. “Maybe …here? …No, I don’t think so…”

His tongue licks into her mouth when she opens wider for him, desperate for the taste of him on her tongue, and she nearly gasps over that same tongue — loudly — when his palm cups unceremoniously between her legs. “…I think you want me here. That’s about right, isn’t it?”

Y/N makes a little noise — it’s something between desperation and wordless agreement, and it quirks the corners of Harry’s mouth, carving dimples in beside his smug beam. The hand withdraws so suddenly she wants to melt into the hungry soil.

“Yeah, that’s it, sweet thing,” he declares, voice hushed, a bass-deep admission soft-spoken and colored with teasing.

Instead, he presses up until he’s hovering over her and then knees his way back, and then his fingers tuck up under the waistband of her shorts. When he discards them into the beginnings of a pile of clothing beside them, coaxing her hips to rise up enough with a soft word, blood teems into her cheekbones, like it’s all new and foreign.

It’s not.

It’s the most comforting and familiar when he traces a fingertip over the cleft at the crotch of her panties, the most familiar when he shimmies his fingertips under the sides of the fabric at her hips and tugs those off, too. It’s familiar when he holds a leg up, fingers gentle at her calf, and sponges kisses up her leg from her ankle to her inner thigh. It’s familiar when his tongue dances over hot, slick, flesh in craving, when it rolls around her clit and circles back. When he’s amused by the proof that he was right, that she is soaked, and his ego inflates like a hot air balloon. It’s familiar in the draw of his tongue, in the brush of his lips, in the way his fingers brush over her thighs, over her hole, over the sensitive areas in between. It’s familiar in the way that she watches stars speckle in the darkness behind her clenched eyelids, in the way that Harry doesn’t let up even as she pants and wrings her own fingers into his curls. In the way that he only responds with a moan against her at the rough treatment of his scalp.

It’s somewhere between heaven and hell, teetering on the wire, when he laps over her pulsing cunt. His irises flicker up when she shudders, when Y/N makes a futile attempt to clasp her thighs over his head and prevent the light drag of his tongue over her oversensitive button. Instead, he tucks a palm against one of her legs and holds it down, plush lips curling around an ‘o’ and sucking. Every muscle seizes, her fingers twitching and struggling to curl into the thinly stuffed fabric of the sleeping bag. She bridles a whole-body thrash, neck straining as her breath stutters.

“Please— plea— it’s too much—“ Y/N swallows midway her begging to avoid choking on her own spit, and that’s cute, Harry thinks.

Aw, Y/N thinks he’d coo up at her from between her thighs, if his mouth wasn’t occupied at her core, those are pretty words. They don’t sound like a safeword, though.

He doesn’t say that, though. He doesn’t say anything, humming quietly over her clit (honestly, she can’t tell if it’s in protest or agreement) and rolling a slow circle over nerves that are spent and nearly raw post his caress.

Her chest is still rolling when he clambers his way up onto her, kneeing around her sides and then coaxing her arms up into a stretch. Harry cages those with firm thighs at the roots of the limbs, kneeing his way higher until he’s hovering over her chest and admiring her, all pliant and worn out and obedient beneath him. He sniffs, head cocked and eyes glimmering, and then sighs when he tucks fingers into the waistband of his shorts. Her fingers twitch, outstretched above her. And he’s weightless, and steady, and careful over her, but despite that, filth from his tongue punches her breath out like he’s sat directly over her lungs.

“Gonna suck my cock, baby.”

It’s not really a question — not in tone. It’s a coo, a declaration, insight before Harry digs his fingers further past elastic and discards two layers of fabric with one tug, and his cock bobs free, glistening with a bead of precum at the head.

Y/N swipes out over her lips with her tongue, and the sheen of spit over pink nearly matches the glimmer on the pink of his tip. The man cradles his free hand over his base and tucks the waistband lower on his hips, just until it rests under his balls and a glimpse of inked laurels and milky expanses of a bare tan line are on show. Bracing himself with a hand planted on the ground, Harry leans over her and aims his shaft, daubing over the plush of her mouth. When her tongue peeks out to swipe over the silky skin, she thinks he’s going to chastise her for her lack of patience. He doesn’t. Instead, he ogles down at the motion like she’s a goddess, cracks in otherwise apathy morphing; a light crease between his brows, a twitch in his lips. The same lips part for a shuddery breath like he’s trying to reign in his composure. And with every drag of his head over her slippery, hungry taste buds, a slow, side-to-side swipe that seems to lose precision with each motion, those cracks in his control give more. His jaw sets and he takes a long breath in through flared nostrils, and then shifts the palm that’d settled on the ground to rest over her wrists.

“M’gonna fuck your mouth,” Harry tells her, pupils scoping carefully from her lips to her own eyes in finality. “What do you do if you want me to stop?”

Y/N blinks. Her fingers twitch. She bends the digits over his grip and squeezes, flexing and unflexing over his own fingers like code in a tempo of frenzy. His gaze doesn’t even flicker from the aim of his tip, and he draws it over her mouth like he’s in awe of the sight.

“Good girl.”

The young woman takes in a breath, mouth parting over his head slightly, all doe-eyed. He smushes his cockhead to the open seam.

“Open up for me,” the soft croon is accompanied by the tilt of his head, and a stray curl dangles over his forehead when he swipes the tip over her lips, “Nice and wide. Show me that pretty tongue.”

And it slinks from her mouth as if on mindless command. Harry smears his tip over it like a filthy greeting, and then he feeds his fat cock in, guiding it up until the point to where he’s able to shift his weight onto the hand that doesn’t coat her wrists, careful not to cause the confined joints any discomfort.

“That’s it,” his praise seeps out all breathy, barely over an awed whisper as he sinks in and her tongue flexes to encompass the drag towards her gag reflex, “That’s a good girl.”

The pointed little end grazes over his balls.

“Eyes up here, pretty thing,” Harry encourages, ducking his own chin. There’s something pretty in the dance of her lash line, in the way her pupils flit up to his shadowy face, the way her lips tuck over her teeth to cushion his shaft. The way her tongue stays stuck out, flexing under the welcomed intrusion, “…Wanna watch them get all teary.”

It’s like she tries to appease him. It’s as if on instinct to his words, that her lashes flutter as she tries to peer up, the beginnings of a ready sheen glazing the pretty color there as her tongue twitches and her throat bobs in an attempted swallow.

And Christ, does it feel good when she does that.

Harry’s own neck cranes, the muscles there flexing and veins swelling there like little ropes pulled taut under his skin. He groans, and it makes her do it again. His brows are furrowed when he risks a glance down at the picture-perfect view, and his hips nudge forward a smidge, only for him to bask in the sight of her irises lolling back and her lashes batting. A hiss lips through gritted teeth like rain through a gutter, and his head cocks further as he smooths an index to rest over her palm. She doesn’t have her digits balled — not all the way — not until his forefinger rests in her reach. She squeezes over that, almost like it’s an anchor. Something grounding to tether her.

“Shit,” he manages out, barely over a whisper to bite back a throaty groan, hips rolling and brows furrowed in pleasure, “Shit — you’re good. You’re so good—“

And it makes the twitch of her lashes melt into a flitting bat, the color there rolling back and hiding behind the flutter. She can’t exactly hum in acknowledgment, but Y/N makes this garbled sound around him — this desperate kind she’d only make with his shaft stuffed down her throat, and it’s loud. Too loud. He squeezes over her wrists with his thumb, hips slowing until he’s wedged in to the hilt, stilled with the tip of her nose pressed to the light dusting of his pubic hair.

And Y/N thinks she’s going to implode. She’s going to implode if she doesn’t suffocate over his cock first.

“Shh, shh,” Harry wriggles the index she’s gripping until her touch loosens enough, and he’s able to stroke the tip over her palm, “Shh.”

Her pupils flit up to him in this deliciously delirious way for air. Harry tips his head down, the shadow of another curl flopping over his forehead. His cock twitches. Y/N makes another sound over him, this one lower. More pleading. More distressed. Her lashes flutter, cheeks puffing. Just when she’s about to clench and unclench over his fingers, he pulls out. It’s nearly all the way, but not quite, and she wheezes oxygen into her deprived lungs, muffling a fit of coughing. When she turns her head to take in more air, his tip slips out and draws a wet streak of saliva from the corner of her mouth across her cheek.

“So pretty,” Harry murmurs. His tone sounds distant, and absentminded, and awed, like her mouth is divine and his voice is sort of full of worship, “You take me so well.”

Y/N blinks up at him, lips swollen post his ministrations and parted, slick with spit. Harry adjusts his grip, balancing his weight, and curls his lengthy digits over the base of his cock, aiming it back to that pretty, pretty mouth.

Her jaw practically unhinges at the implication, tongue sticking out to daub at his cockhead when he croons, “And you’ll take a little more for me, sweetheart. Won’t you?”

The sultry plush of his mouth curls up, all smug like when the tip of her tongue prods at his head, and then he feeds himself back into the warmth of her mouth.

“Yeah,” Harry grunts, hips rolling slow and cautious as he guides himself in, “Yeah, you will.”

He settles back into a pace of shallow, jutting thrusts, slow, and calculated, and testing. But then those melt and meld into something smoother, something deeper that brushes the back of her throat. Her fingers stretch wide and open and curl helplessly, never quite squeezing over his own digits, and Harry basks in the wet, pornographic sounds that envelop his shaft. Even as she tries to dim their volume, the sound of her sputtering around his cock isn’t something she can exactly mask when he brushes her gag reflex, again, and again. With every prod forward, every second she spends with her jaw wide open for him, that flame in her core kindles higher and higher. When he pulls out, jaw clenched and tummy flexing, ridges of his abs caught in the shadows, it’s like he pours kerosene.

“Suck,” her friend tells her, soft-spoken as he nudges with his hips. His palm cradles his cock, fingers curled under the base. But her range of motion is limited, and Harry tips it up from her wanton, slick lips. Almost like it’s purposeful, because it definitely is.

A tentative tongue slips out to draw over his balls, and the way his front teeth lodge against the plush of his bottom lip, head cocked to indulge in the innocuous peer of her eyes beneath him — that’s a pretty sight she can make out even through the lack of light. She takes a million mental snapshots with her pupils, all of him in his all, curls dangling from the angle and the sharp line of his nose, his panting mouth as her tastebuds drag, sinew of muscle at his abdomen flexing, a rise and fall. The barest shape of the dark anchor etched into his wrist, his long, ring-clad fingers, the way they curl over his cock. The shape of it hovering over her face.

A low groan squeezes past the door he’s made with his teeth, and then he says, “Yeah. There. Go on.”

Her tongue morphs to her mouth, lips latching over lightly and sucking, just as he’d directed, and parting teases paste to him like doting kisses. Her lashline bounces as her eyes attempt to make his responses out through the rough angle and the dark that coats them. His head craned back there, his tummy rising and falling in pants there, his face tipped down over her to watch. The most insightful — and frankly, the most satisfying — are the sounds.

The hisses of air he sucks in through his teeth, the way huffs fall out from between his open lips. They’re slow, and they come out like he’s trying to control them for the sake of the decibel, but they shake as they escape, and that’s a telltale. And then there’s the moans.

There aren’t many of those to indulge in, but there’s a couple, one that Harry can’t seem to curb, despite his seemingly best efforts, when Y/N rolls her tongue over him all slow-like and comes off with a pop. And then another, later, that has him hanging his head when she stipples kisses to the sensitive skin there.

“Christ, you’re gonna kill me.”

The young woman hums, maybe in agreement or maybe goading, lashes batting innocently beneath him as she draws her lips over his sac aimlessly.

“Fuck,” Harry mutters, and then he stifles and clams up like he’s contemplating. When her tongue drags over him again he seems to make a decision, tearing himself away and kneeing his way back until he’s hovering over her thighs, his cock bobbing and wet with spit, “Sit up. Take this off.”

Do this, do that. A shudder climbs up the knobs of her spine, slithering its way up the bone as she basks in the dominating note plucking at his tone. The sweatshirt catches on her hair and tugs strands, but it’s frenzied, somehow fond, the way his hands rove up her sides and slip up her back, roaming over hot skin to toggle at the back of her bra.

Then it’s, “Roll over,” with the last of her clothing discarded into the darkness, somewhere beside them in the same, sloppy pile with her shorts and her underwear. “Gonna—“ she thinks he sheds his t-shirt then, imagines his muscles rippling and flexing as he pulls it off, over his head from the back, “—fuck you like I want your snug cunt wrapped around me forever.”

And then go his shorts, judging by the way his weight dips and balances, the shuffling from behind as he kicks them off and they’re flung somewhere by his ankle. He presses up onto her, grappling her by the hip, all warm weight and everything brushing together.

“You wanna bounce on my cock, baby?” Harry murmurs, pink lips grazing her temple. A curl tickles at her cheekbones when he ducks to skim his teeth over her earlobe, to ghost a breath of promise — of foreshadowing against her neck when he tells her, sultry low and smooth like honey, “Be a good girl and ask Daddy nicely. Maybe then I’ll let you.”

Shit. Fucking Shit. That little word teems down her ears and hikes all the way down her nervous system and back up, lighting everything in her alive.

Quietly, barely over a whisper, Y/N beckons, “Please.” And when Harry doesn’t immediately move, she licks out at her slips, swallows, and pleads, “Daddy. I need you. Need you inside.”

In response, her friend cups a hand over a love handle and guides his cock to press against her. But he doesn’t breach.

“Better, but not quite,” he sighs. There’s leaves rustling outside in the gentle breeze, but Y/N doesn’t hear anything besides the rush of blood in her ears when she begs more, and it doesn’t get any quieter when Harry rewards her by tucking himself inside and pumping forward, just about halfway.

It’s a crying shame when he doesn’t make any motion to keep going. And then it’s quiet besides their panting breaths intermingling. Eventually, though, he does talk.

“Fuck yourself on it,” Harry instructs, cadence ludicrously controlled given that half of his cock is tucked into her. Y/N peers over her shoulder to catch glimpses of his furrowed brows — the rip in the stitch of semblance. She can only manage to see so much. He ducks his head and nips at the shell of her ear, coaxing tingles down her neck, her shoulders, all the way from her nape. “Go on. Don’t pretend to be shy about it.”

Fucking fuck. How can she not be, she thinks, when he talks like that?

There’s a heat that seeps over her the crest of her cheekbones where he can’t see, and she squeezes over him in response to the filth. Harry settles back up. From the corner of her eye, Y/N notes lines of muscle shaping his arms as he hovers over her. Slowly, almost hesitantly, she arches her hips up a tad and nudges back. It’s not enough — it’s maybe an inch, and she rocks forward by pressing her hips down and then repeats the motion. Just as there was a lack of control over her shame when he spewed dirty, brazen, filth, there’s also a lack of motion when she’s rolled forward with her tummy pressed to the ground. There’s only so much — so many inches she can ride back on when she’s rendered immobile.

He knows it, too — it’s obvious by the poorly muffled note of mirth in his tone from behind, “Good girl. But you can do better than that, can’t you?”

Helplessly, Y/N grits her teeth, fingers tangling into the fabric of her sleeping bag as she rolls her hips back in another attempt. It’s stuttery, and awkward, and not really a seamless, Shakira-esque roll at all. It’s a poor shuffle, hips raising more than traveling back.

“Come on,” Harry goads, tutting like her tries are half-assed and she’s not currently exerting her body into creating motions that are simply unrealistic, “Take it proper. You want it? Then take it. Show me.”

Camping is supposed to be wholesome. Camping is supposed to be laughter, and deep, pure breaths of air that scrub out the tainted glaze of city life from the walls of your lungs, sticky like cigarette smoke residue on the walls of a house. It’s hiking boots stuffed with the thickest socks. It’s marshmallows on twigs over curdling flames that lick up, it’s flashlights, and spooky myths and legends verbalized, and more laughter.

Instead, Y/N is camping, and she’s currently barely grinding over inches of Harry’s cock.

“I can’t,” she grits out, frustrated, but it sounds more like a whine than anything with bite.

“You can’t? Sure you can, pet,” Harry grapples over her hip, bracing on one arm in, honestly, an impressive showcase of athleticism, and manually rakes her hips back over him. It allows for more — more of him, more of his cock, more of his touch. More of him splitting her open and spreading her apart over him. “Just like this, right?”

She’s sure he must be meeting her at least a quarter, if not halfway, though. It all feels like a devious ploy. Y/N whines. He makes this amused sound then, one of those puffs expelled through his nostrils like a half-laugh, accompanied by a hum. And then he pulls out and pumps his hips forward, until he’s flush to her backside, and then reverses and repeats. Three times. He gives her three, good, long, full thrusts, smoothing out to the tip and in to the root until she’s stuffed, just like he’d promised. Then, he presses in all the way and just basks in her heat.

“Better?” Harry asks, but his tone catches on a quiet grunt and wavers in its prior composure. She squeezes over him, really squeezes, and he muffles a groan with the seal of his mouth. For a second, he doesn’t say anything at all, and then the filth spills again. It’s odd how patronizing he can sound, despite the way her cunt so obviously affects him, “Need Daddy to do all the work, is that it?”

Y/N hums. There isn’t much she can say to disagree because it’s good. At some point, his slow rolls morph into sharp juts, and the brace of his arms bends and gives until his chest is flush to her back.

“Please, please, please, please,” Y/N croaks out the mantra, muzzled by the smush of her cheek to the ground with the pressure of his hand palming at the side of her skull.

“Shh,” Harry rocks forward, fingertips twitching into her roots like a meld of petting and admonishment. He rocks into her until he’s flush against her backside, splitting her over him to the hilt, “Shh …don’t need to beg, sweetheart. You can have it. Have it all.”

He’s warm weight over her, hard muscle like hot, sticky stone as he works into her from behind. He’s a welcome stretch, a pleasant burn, inches of bliss that her spongy walls cling to in a warm hug. He’s tips of curls brushing over her cheeks, filthy words in a murmur flush to the shell of her ear, little, repressed grunts and shuddery exhales as his hips rock. He’s a headlock that squeezes over her throat deliciously and keeps her neck craned back. It’s in this perfect way that almost has her gasping for breath.

The young woman practically bites into her tongue to curb a nearly animalistic groan that climbs from the depths of her chest and squeezes out past her detained windpipe. She doesn’t need to try as hard when his opposite arm shimmies up over the poorly-cushioned sleeping bag, when his hand clamps against her mouth, palm smushing over her lips. Instead, her high whimper catches on his skin and muffles out. Her nostrils flare over his digits when Harry shushes and chastises through grunts.

“I know, baby. I know. Need you to be — shit — a good, quiet girl for me, though.”

Her irises nearly loll back into her skull, fluttery for the ceiling of fabric in their sockets at the dominating tone of his cadence.

“Gonna be good for me? Make me—“ his words taper off when he muzzles a groan with the seal of his own lips, and what comes out is hushed, and masculine, and obviously bridled. But it doesn’t make her as hungry as when he beckons, “—Make me pleased with you?”

Because she wants to please him, wants to be good, wants his digits to press harder over her tongue when he slinks them into her mouth. It’s not her fault when the motion siphons a whimper. So Harry does — press harder that is, an inclination for her lips to wrap over his fingers, his chin tucked over her shoulder. His mouth presses to her temple, gracing her with puffs of air through his nose as he rocks into her.

“There we go,” Harry coos, soft and barely over a whisper when her mouth seals over the intrusive digits, “There’s a good girl. Let’s keep those pretty sounds to ourselves.”

He rocks into her until she’s whining into his hand, until they’re really slick with sweat, and he’s grazing at his own peak, working until it unravels him from the inside out. She’s still making hushed sounds against his palm when he groans all low into her hair and his motions melt into something stuttery, when he empties ribbon after ribbon as she clenches over him and milks him through it.

He’s probably going to rifle through the dark for some discarded fragment of fabric to clean the mess. It’ll be haphazard on account of the night, and she’ll still feel the sticky remnants, dried up at the peaks of her inner thighs in the morning. But it won’t really be gross. Sort of a sordid, morning-after keepsake, sort of a dirty thrill as they pack their stuff among the others in their cohort. Sort of, probably, an excuse to fuck later in the day when they have a moment alone to themselves, reminiscing on the night before.

But before that, he’ll probably clean his mess and run a hand down the vale of her side in a praising caress, like he normally does. Probably lay next to her for a bit before sneaking off to his own tent because, even though they’re just friends that fuck, he’s never been weird about cuddling — aftercare is sort of a must. He’ll probably say goodnight with another searing kiss, the kind that burns deep inside, because every time he leaves is kerosene actively poured into the pit of a bonfire. Because every time he leaves, she wants him more.

Tomorrow they’ll still be friends.

Just friends that fuck.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles dirty one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #dom!harry x sub!reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #fwb!harry #fwb au #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles one shots #dom!harry

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elusivecagedmockingbird · 3 months

Text

Orbiting: pt.1°

[icehockey!jungkook x figureskater!reader] [600+ idiot fwb to lovers; mutual pining, both has the libido of a teenage boy, it's so cliche it's unbelievable how clueless they are]

“Don’t stop baby,” Jungkook moans. He love-hates how you're slowly bouncing on top him. On one hand, he loves how you use him to pleasure yourself, slowly sinking inch by inch until you spear yourself on his cock. On the other, he wants nothing else than to fuck you dumb and to his pace—hard and unrelenting, he wants nothing spilling on your lips but his name and moans of pleasure.

"Come on, Y/N," he urges as he tries to thrust into you, his cock impaling you on top of him and you can't help but moan louder. "Fuck," you pant, "do that again." And so he does, planting his feet on the bed, his hips angled, he pistons his cock into you, bottoming out. Your body goes pliant above him as you submit yourself to your shared pleasure, your mouths move like magnets finding each other and momentarily locking in a heated kiss.

Jungkook reaches for your hand, brings it to his lips to kiss your knuckles, and it has you fucked. It's small gestures like this that makes not only your pussy clench, but your heart, too. It just feels too intimate, as if you're more than good friends seeking each other out after his game for a good fuck to relax his adrenaline.

Needing to ground yourself, you pin his hand beside his head and pull him for another kiss. Because a kiss, you can handle. You've kissed many times before—your lips already familiar to his teasing bites, your tongues danced sloppily around each other's mouth a thousand times.

With his other hand rubbing your clit, you unravel within minutes. Jungkook erratically thrusts below you, chasing his high, until heavy grunts leave his lips as he cums.

"Fuck, that was..." you pant, mind blanking as you look for the right word, still in a bliss. Jungkook only chuckles, hand caressing your back, basking in your afterglow.

But the moment is short-lived, and Jungkook eyes you as you pull away, "Second round at my place?"

"Not today," you pout, "I have to be at the rink in about...5 minutes."

"Can I watch?"

"Nope. Coach says it's closed practice for today. Something about a new skater coming in for tryouts." You're rushing to get dressed and Jungkook helps by fixing your skirt.

"Again?"

"Yep, apparently the last guy said I was too much of a bitch to skate with," Jungkook sees you roll your eyes. "Ah. That just means he can't keep up and you bruised his ego."

"Right," you humor him, watching him pull away to pick up his clothes, "you said that about the last guy, too."

Jungkook hums, "Him, too."

"And what about you? You can keep up with me, right?"

Knowing where the conversation's going, Jungkook faces you, "Y/N, that was for fun. And we were teens then," he chuckles, "I tackle men now and hit pucks on the ice," he's walking back to you, "none of what I do fits the graceful criteria your coach is looking for."

You giggle, having already known his answer but it's worth the ask because you've seen Jungkook bust a move on ice. Granted, not as graceful as you, but even you started out stiff.

"Right," strands of your bangs fall on your face as you nod, and Jungkook's hands, like habit, reach out to tuck your hair behind your ear. The gesture not lost on you and your knees buckle. If only there were no consequences from missing today's practice, you would gladly suck his cock dry right here and now.

"Plus, seeing the routines you do, there would be too much tension building between us that by the middle of a routine," his eyes flicker to your lips, "I might end up taking you on ice."

Oh, you are his to ruin. If only he knew.

Pulling your mind out of the gutter, you scoff, eyes rolling once again and push him by the chest. Again, Jungkook only laughs as he takes your hand and leads you out of the lockers.

>> Page 2

#jeon jungkook #bts fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #bts jungkook #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts angst #fwb au #jungkook x oc #jungkook x you

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jkbabiey · 1 year

Text

a lot more

Pairing: fwb!jkxreader(f)

Genre: fluf; smut; slight angst; college!AU: fwb2lovers!AU

Warnings: dom!jk, sub!reader (they try to switch it up but it’s just not in them), athlete!jk, medstudent!reader, rough sex, praise kink, spit kink, slight overstimulation, worried kook, anxiety :(

Jungkook knew, when you texted him a 'come over' at 11:56PM on a Sunday, that college was kicking your ass. It was finals period so the real question was who's ass wasn't being kicked, but he knew it took a lot for you to admit your ass was being kicked, yet you did text him a straight-up invite to fuck - instead of calling him and beating around the bush to see who'd cave first like you always did.

Obviously, being Jeon Jungkook, he didn't even think of complaining or refusing your invite but you both knew there would be a snarky little teasing remark about your urgency to be with him. He had thought of a million ways to tease you on the way to your dorm. Still, as soon as you opened the door to your room all of the witticisms that had come to his mind throughout the ride vanished, leaving him with furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips, while his eyes analyzed your freshly washed hair, your deep dark circles, and your chapped lips. You didn't greet him, opting to just turn around, walk to the kitchen to get a bottle of cold water, and leave him to close the door on his way in.

Jungkook found this - not being greeted with a smile and a kiss on the cheek, like always - weird, to say the least. Among every single soul he had gotten to know in his two years as a college student, you had to be the kindest, sweetest, and warmest person he had ever met, which contrasted a lot with the rest of the people he knew. Most people in college, at least in the environment he was in being an athlete and belonging to a frat, got a little consumed by the freedom of being in college and away from parents and further responsibilities, and most often than not got a little presumptuous and a tiny bit too extroverted, surrendering to bad habits.

You weren't like that tho. You were still in your first year of college and hadn't experienced the tumultuous life of college parties and alcohol because (1) you didn't exactly get along with the popular people that got invited to parties and (2) even if you did get invited to parties, you didn't really like them - too many people and way too loud music. Jungkook had met you in the coffee shop you worked in. It was near college and had the best iced coffee ever. You were a pretty girl and had a cute smile so you immediately caught his attention but he didn't even try to get your number because you just emanated that quirky nerdy energy to you and that was exactly what he wasn't looking for in a girl. Basically you were far from anything close to his type. Actually, he wasn't even looking for a girl - his life was busy already and the last thing he needed was another distraction.

Still, there was no denying you when a month of stolen glances and shy smiles passed and you handed Jungkook his cup of iced coffee with your number written under his name on the name tag. He remembers panicking and not taking any advances toward you the week after you gave him your number. He didn't even go to get coffee through that week. You genuinely thought you had scarred the man away. But after he saw you in a denim skirt and a black crop top walking through uni, he couldn't help but send you a little text.

Since then you two had been casually hanging out - which was a way of saying you had been having casual sex, with absolutely no strings attached and no expectations from either side. Jungkook did consider you a friend and he thought your playful banter and fun conversations meant you also saw him as a close friend. And you two had gotten closer than a lot of Jungkook's other friends because, in his eyes, you were without a doubt the most genuine person he had ever met and you always brought a feeling of freshness with you whenever you two got together. He liked you.

He came inside your room to see what seemed like anatomy sketches and notes sprawled everywhere on your bedroom floor. "Is everything ok?" he asked once you came into your room with your water bottle. "Yeah, I've just been having a hard time focusing and decided to take a break and go take a cold shower," you said, your voice sweet as ever. You set the water bottle on top of your wooded desk and walked towards him in your tank top and tight pajama shorts. "Thought you could help me focus a little better too," you whispered, enveloping his neck with both your arms. His hands were automatically placed on your hips while his head reached down to gently kiss you on the lips.

You guided him to seat on the edge of your bed while still kissing him and straddled his lap with your legs on each side of his hips, feeling his big hands groping the flesh of your thighs. You griped the thin dark hairs on the bottom of his head and pulled them a little, smiling against Jungkook's lips when he gasped against you at the little pull.

Jungkook wasn't exactly convinced that everything was okay and that you were just having trouble focusing. He knew you struggled with anxiety and could get a little too lost in your studies, even forgetting to take care of yourself.

You felt Jungkook's hand land on your right arm to pull you back a little "W-wait y/n, is everything okay? Have you eaten today?" he asked, watching your brows furrow and your legs starting to get off of his lap. You stood up, the annoyance was obvious on your expression and Jungkook had never even seen an ounce of that on you.

"Why do you care?" you asked, angry but still wearing the same quiet and sweet as honey tone of voice. "Listen, I really have to study. I called you here for a reason but if you're not in the mood, you should go. I have things to do and I don't want to waste my tim-"

"Ok, ok," Jungkook muttered seeing as your face started getting red and your behavior became more and more erratic and restless. "Come back here," he reached for your hand, pulling you into him once again and forcing you to sit back on his lap. And you did, looking down at your hands while Jungkook placed his hands on your hips and stayed quiet, just looking at you with a soft look in his eyes.

"I'm fine, I just need to relieve some tension," you quietly explained, fidgeting with your fingers like a little kid on Jungkook's lap.

"I get it," he whispered as his lips started puckering little kisses all the way from your cheek to the skin of your neck. You rested your arms on his shoulders, pulling him closer and letting him suckle on your neck. "I'll make you feel good."

In a second his hands were under your tank top, fondling your braless chest while you rolled your hips down into his, moaning into his hair as you felt his hardening length poking your leg. You reached down his back grabbed his sweatshirt and tugged it up to try and get it on your floor. Sensing your struggle with his clothes, Jungkook maneuvered to free himself of his sweatshirt and rid you of your tank top too. Almost automatically Jungkook's mouth was on your right nipple, his tongue massaging it and teasing you with little bites, while his hand fondled your other breast. You tilted your head back in pleasure, letting out breathy moans of Jungkook's name to which he buckled his hips up.

Soon both your sleeping shorts and his jeans were next to the rest of your clothing and Jungkook's fingers were cupping your heat. "God, you're so wet," Jungkook whimpered feeling the wetness already sipping through your panties, immediately pulling them to the side and running two of his fingers through your slit. “Bet you spent the whole day thinking of my cock, haven’t you?”

You nodded and hissed at the feeling of Jungkook inserting two of his fingers inside you abruptly, and pumping them in and out in a fast motion, not even giving you the time to adjust. Everything about Jungkook was big - his height, his cock, his fingers. Two of his fingers were thicker that three of yours, which was all you could handle when you played with yourself, but whenever you and Jungkook got together you knew you needed the preparation.

"I need you," you whined and he chuckled, husky and teasing, with his plump lips just beside your ear. You reached for the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down to reveal his hard shaft, that hit his abdomen. So close to you you could feel its heat. You humped your hips against his thighs, trying to get some friction after he removed his fingers from your pussy, and heard Jungkook groan, feeling the urgency in your hasty movements, watching the desire in your eyes, and earing the neediness in your high-pitched moans.

“You think you can take me already?” he asked, half serious, half teasing, and you nodded quickly, watching the smug grin on Jungkook’s face grow.

You always got so lost whenever Jungkook was near. His presence alone was intoxicating. He was able to overpower the habitual struggle of always reaching for something, always aiming to be someone. He allowed you to be whoever you were. He allowed you to be no one if that's what you wanted - he always managed to make you feel hyperaware of every single sensation that sparked through your body and that was enough. With Jungkook, you could fall apart. He'd be the death of you and you'd let him.

He reached down, grabbing your hips and lifting you a little so his dick would align with your entrance. He let you fall suddenly so his entire length would penetrate you and you hissed, shutting your eyes closed at the sudden intrusion. No matter how many times you two did this, you'd never get used to Jungkook's size. He reached his hand in between your sweaty bodies and quickly found your clit, rubbing quick circles against the hard nub.

"C'mon baby, move," he groaned before thrusting his hips up harshly. You cried out and he moved forward to envelop your waist in his arms, pressing light feathery kisses against your temple. "Be a good girl and fuck yourself on my dick."

You settled your knees on the space next to his hips, on each side, finding support to move on top of him, and placed your tiny hands on Jungkook's strong shoulders. You moved your body all the way up slowly until only his tip was inside of you. And then started moving back down at the same slow pace, defeatedly crying out at the size of him. "That's it, slow and steady baby," his voice guttural as his lips ghosted on yours, barely touching.

You repeated the motion, starting to fasten your pace when the burn of his size subsided and all that was left was the pleasure of feeling completely full of his cock. "You fill me up so good, Kook,” you whimpered and heard the deep groan Jungkook left out. He was losing patience. Jungkook wasn't a patient man and you knew that the pace at which you could comfortably ride him wasn't the pace he could reach when he was in control. Jungkook was an animalistic lover, going fucking feral whenever he got to be inside your pussy. You could see the self-control in his expression, the clenched jaw, shut eyes, and furrowed brows said it all for you.

It didn't take long until his self-control went out the window. All it took was a loud cry of his name out your mouth when you rolled your hips in a certain way so that your clit would rub against his pelvis. He thrust his hips up roughly, his abs clenching and let out a high-pitched whimper at the feeling of your walls clenching around him. He then planted his feet firmly against the floor of your bedroom and leaned back, laying himself down on the matters and bringing your forwards with him. He placed both his hands on your ass cheeks, grabbing them hard and spreading them to start to fuck up into you, setting the pace that he wanted, rough and fast. You leaned forward, clinging to every single portion of skin you could touch, screaming out moans of pleasure.

"Fuck, love this pussy so much, always so warm and tight," he groaned into your hair and grabbed your waist so he could lay you down on the mattress, now on your back. He settled between your legs, grabbing your thighs and opening them as wide as they could possibly go, aligning himself with your hole, and going back to fucking you mercilessly. His eyes fluttered and the drag of your velvety walls against the sensitive skin of his dick, and his lips brushing against yours.

Jungkook groaned at the sound of your wet pussy sucking his cock in, reaching his hand up to roughly grab your face, forcefully pressing his fingers against your jaw. Your teary eyes locked with his lustful ones just for him to messily press an open-mouthed kiss to your lips. You couldn't keep up with his pace. You never could and you loved it that way. You loved just how messy he always made you. You loved how he used your body like you were a lifeless fuck doll, with little to no care about how you felt. You loved it just the way he did it. You loved to be fucked hard and fast.

Jungkook got on his knees, grabbing both your legs to support them on his shoulders, chasing his own pleasure. He reached so deep inside of you in the new position you felt your eyes roll back. His eyes opened and he took your fucked out figure in - teary eyes, heavy breaths, plump red lips wet with drool, wild messy hair, sweaty shiny skin, his dick poking your tummy every time he went in deep. You're so tiny compared to him, sometimes he wonders how you could take his huge cock like you always do.

"You're perfect, so fucking beautiful," he whispered reaching forward to bring his lips to yours. He pressed a messy kiss to your lips, his hips still pistoning against yours. "Such a pretty, pretty girl," he whined against your lips before pressing another kiss to them, this one softer and lighter. You brought your hands up his back, scratching him in the process and he let out a breathy moan, whiny and needy.

"Fuck Kook, I'm almost there," you cried out and Jungkook reached between your bodies to rub your clit. Gasps and moans flew out your mouth as he fastened his pace.

"Come for me, princess," and you do, going over the edge quickly after you feel his fingers pinching your clit, your pussy squelching every time he bottoms out while his fingers continued circling your sensitive nub. You feel his pace slowing down and his cock throbs from the feeling of your pussy tightening around his dick. He pulled back to watch the point where your bodies connected, the way his shiny cock went all the way in and out until only his tip was left, and then back to the warmth of your pussy, and the way your juices coated the whole length of his dick and pooled on your ass too to the point where your sheets were soaked.

Jungkook grabbed your hips, lifting them slightly and going back to the furious pace he'd set earlier, chasing an orgasm of his own, not caring at all about how overstimulated you were. You gasped and clenched the sheets under you in your fists, biting your bottom lip.

"Open your mouth," Jungkook groaned, leaning forward closer to your face. You did as told and soon after he spit in your mouth,, a bit of drool hitting your cheek instead of your mouth and he instantly feels your walls tightening once again around his cock. You instantly swallow it and he's caught off guard when you gather the spit on your cheek onto your finger and suck it clean. "Such a fucking slut," he moaned and felt his cock throb inside you. His brain was heady with lust and he could think of nothing except for your pussy. He couldn't control the volume of his moans when you reached down to rub your clit, warning him of a second orgasm. He loses it, rutting into you like a desperate beast until ribbons of white cum are spewing out of his dick and stuffing you full. The feeling of his cum inside you sent you over the edge once again and you're gasping and crying out along with him, as the tightening of your walls prolongs his high.

Jungkook fell heavy on top of you and your hands were quickly directed to his dark locks of hair, now partially drenched in sweat. You felt his heavy breaths against the skin of your neck and his panting chest against yours.

"Was I too rough?" he asked after a few minutes of just laying there and recomposing his breathing paces.

"No, it was just what I needed," you answered and he chuckled, pressing a quick peck against your neck, tickling you.

"Can I stay the night? Don't feel like driving back home," he asked, finally getting off you to lay on his back, next to you instead.

"I don't think I'm gonna sleep tonight," you answered nuzzling your face against Jungkook's chest. "You can sleep here though, no problem."

"What do you mean you're not gonna sleep tonight?" he asked, his voice sounding a lot more worried already. "Don't you have class tomorrow?"

"Yeah, but I have an exam on friday and I couldn't study properly the whole day, so I'll study now."

"Y/n, you need to rest. You spent the whole weekend studying. You're coming to sleep with me now," he argued, standing up from your bed and trying to grab your hand to take you to take a bath.

"Kook, I already said I have to study. You're not entitled to just tell me what to do. I already decided I will spend the night studying and you can't tell me not to!" you snapped and Jungkook raised his hands in defeat. He moved and started to grab his clothes and get dressed, while you sat up on your bed. "What are you doing?"

"Going home. If you already decided you're gonna spend the night studying like a fucking maniac I might as well go sleep in my own bed," he grumbled and you just watched him getting dressed, trying to figure out if this was your fault or if he was being an actual asshole for not respecting your schedules.

"Are you seriously getting mad at me because I need to study?"

"I'm not mad y/n," he sighed. "I just think that you can't take care of yourself for shit. I'm sure all you've eaten since Friday was a fucking apple and two protein bars and you're probably running on two hours of sleep. And now I try to help and you lash out at me?" he expresses his anger in the calmest way possible and his eyes don't express anything other than worrisome. "I'm going home, now. Do whatever you want," he said, coming closer to you, that were still seating down on your bed, and leaning down to press a kiss against your forehead. He was angry but he wouldn’t just leave without a kiss because that would just give you something else to overthink about. He always kissed your forehead on his way out.

He was driving towards his house but you still persisted in his mind. Had you slept at all throughout the whole weekend? And what exactly had you eaten in the last two days? Also, tomorrow was Monday and your first class was at 9AM from what he remembered from the timetable you had stuck on your bedroom door. So how were you planning on not sleeping?

He doesn't remember making any rational decision to stop in front of a convenience store to buy two boxes of instant chicken noodles and a pack of tea bags. He didn't exactly think it through. It was just a random thought that popped out and he just did it, like it was second nature to take care of you.

Suddenly, he was back at your door, knocking on the door, to find you already washed up, and brushing your teeth. "Wha- are yo-doin- here?" you asked, words muffled from the toothbrush in your mouth.

"I brought noodles because you actually have to eat something and you're having a cup of tea after to calm your nerves, so you can come to bed with me. Does that sound good?"

"Kook-"

"I don't even care, you have no choice. You are going to sleep tonight. I'm not letting you fuck up your body and your health over an exam," he interrupted you, already angry and the furrowed brows were back to tell you that he wasn't taking no for an answer anytime soon. And then he turned his back to you, walking towards your tiny kitchen to start cooking the noodles, apparently still angry.

You finished brushing your teeth and then walked up to Jungkook, a huge smile on your face that he didn't see because his broad back was turned to you. You enveloped his waist with your arms.

"Thank you for taking care of me," you whispered and he turned back to you, picking you up to take you in his arms as if you were a total baby as your legs circled his torso.

"Well, someone has to," he answered with a teasing smile on his lips, and you quickly leaned forward to kiss it away. "Now, you're staying up here. I don't know to which extent you won't just faint from how long you haven't eaten if I put you down."

Eventually, he did let you down and you two finished cooking together. After you ate together in comfortable silence he made you tea, which you drank in the warmth of your bed and then you laid down as he wrapped your body in his arms.

"Oh I forgot to tell you," you exclaimed from the space between Jungkook's shoulder and neck, where your face was nuzzled. "You're a great stress relief, I'll start calling you every time I'm having a nervous breakdown," you laughed and Jungkook's arms got tighter around you.

"You know you can, right? Call me if you are having a nervous breakdown, I mean," he whispered against your hair.

When you and Jungkook started hanging out, it wasn’t suposed to unvolve any kind of commitment. You were studying medicine and he was an athlete. You both had busy lives and a relationship was the last thing you needed. Everyone needed good sex from time to time tho, so that’s what you agreed on.

But you meant a lot more that just sex to Jungkook. And Jungkook’s meant a lot more than sex to you.

“I will, from now on.” you whispered, looking him in the eye and sending him a gentle smile.

It was in the way Jungkook’s arms were the most comfortable place you could think of even if you thought of your own home. There was no other place you’d rather be, when you’re in his arms. Nothing felt more like home than his arms. And it’s in the way the smell of your hair and the tone of your voice lifted the weight Jungkook was used to carry on his shoulders throughout the whole week. He could relax completely around you. He knew that when he was with you there was no pressure. You accepted him just the way he was. It’s in the way you loved when Jungkook’s eyes shone brighter when he talked about his passions or in the way he loved to take you to new restaurants because he couldn’t get enough of you childishly humming and dancing to random songs when you tasted food you liked.

It was in the way you just laid down that night and stared at each other for minutes on end, not saying a word. And in the way he moved his hand to run his fingers through your hair. And in the way you roamed your eyes throught his face, just to end up kissing his lips gently. And in the way you just closed your eyes, going to sleep with your arms around each other.

It all meant a lot more, and you both knew it.

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook reaction #jungkook smut #jungkook scenario #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #jungkook doctor au #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook college au #college!au jungkook #fwb #jungkook fwb #fwb!au #fwb to lovers #fwb au

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mhathotfic · 9 months

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Fwb gets so messy with Bakugou because he’s not the casual fuck type.

He can’t divorce his physical and sexual attraction from the emotional aspects of your relationship. Can’t look at you and see his friend when he’s seen parts of you only meant for a lover’s eyes. Hell, he doesn’t even experience sexual attraction without some form of intimate affections being involved.

Why’d he ever thought he could fuck you and return to just friends right after is beyond him.

But now he has your number saved under some sappy name like princess or baby and imagines a life together and you’re not even his. Not actually, except for the moments when you’re under him or he’s under you.

Even then you’re not his though, if you were he’d be able to tell you how much he loves you and not worry about if he’s gonna ruin this.

#bnha bakugou #mha bakugou #rated r #fwb au #chatterbox natalia

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bilosan · 11 months

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buddie + friends with benefits au

(9-1-1 // gif prompts)

#911edit #buddieedit #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 #911 fox #911 on fox #au #fwb au #buddie au #gif prompts #vicgifs

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zazter-den · 2 months

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Wake-Up Call

Synopsis- Your situation Bakugo is on a mission in another country, so why bother worrying him by mentioning that you're sick? (You really should have known that would backfire).

Reader Characteristics- Gender Neutral, Sick (Implied COVID), Brat.

Warnings- Suggestive Ending

Tags- Illness Comfort, Dom Fluff, Long-Distance Fluff, Spanking Mention, D/S Dynamic, FWB!Bakugo, Caretaker!Bakugo.

Word Count- 1500

A breeze slipped through the slightly ajar window of your apartment, filling your bedroom with the smell of rain. The world outside was blanketed in a thick mist, the city was still asleep, muted to a quiet hum. It was a chilly morning, the kind that would have you reaching for a warm cup of coffee and a cozy sweater. But for you, it was perfect.

The sun wasn't even up yet, and you were curled up in bed, buried deep under a pile of blankets. Your makeshift nest kept you warm, while the cold air from the window nipped at your nose. Every breath you took was crisp morning air and the smell of rain-soaked soil. It was a smell you loved, one that always soothed you when you were sick. With a soft sigh, you snuggled deeper into the comforters, letting the calm of the early morning lull you back to sleep.

The world could wait.

With your face nestled into the cool sheets, you were on the verge of slipping back to sleep. At least you were, before a sudden melody filled the room. The calming marimba cover of the Final Fantasy intro was a sound only assigned to your closest party members. With a groan, you reluctantly popped your head out from under the warm cocoon of your comforters. Your fingers clumsily fumbling for the source of the noise. The cellphone screen hurt, even with the reduced brightness of night mode, and you squinted at it, trying to make out the caller ID. Your heart skipped a beat as your eyes finally focused on the TNT emoji that popped up with the video call.

Katsuki.

A facetime call? This early? Your sleepy confusion only got worse. Your… well, you weren't quite sure what to call him. Best friend? Lover? Bro with benefits? It was complicated. Bakugo was supposed to be away on a mission in another country. Their facetime calls were always scheduled ahead of time, taking into account the time difference and the unpredictable work shifts you both had. An unscheduled call like this was… unusual, let alone a video chat. With a sense of growing dread, your mind started racing with possibilities. Was the mission a success? Was he okay? What if something had happened?

Pushing down the worry that had begun to creep up, you swiped to connect the video call. Your heart pounded in your chest as you waited for the connection to go through. The phone flickered, and then Bakugo's face filled the screen. It was a bright afternoon wherever he was. His spiky blond hair glinted in the sunlight, and his red eyes seemed even brighter. His face was a sight for sore eyes, and without realizing it, a sleepy smile found its way onto your face. Whatever was going on, it was good to see him.

"You wanna tell me why I had to hear from Deku that you're sick?"

Oh. Oh, you take that back.

"Good mornin' to you too Kacchan" your voice squeaked, trying (and failing) to hide the guilt you felt. Cheeks flushing, you quickly buried your face into the pillow. Your eyes peeped out over the top, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. You could feel his glare burning into you through the screen, and knew you were in for an earful.

"Don't fuckin' 'Kacchan' me" Bakugo snapped, his scowl deepening. His voice had that distinctive edge to it, the one that told her he was more worried than mad. It might be bright and shining where he was, but his mood was anything but sunny.

You swallowed hard, throat dry as you tried to find the right words. "It's just a mild case, Katsuki" you admitted in a small shaky voice. You nestled your fevered face further into the cool pillow. "I'm just tired, can't really think straight… and I've been sleeping a lot." You gave him a weak smile, trying your best to reassure him.

Too bad your words didn't seem to have the desired effect. If anything, his frown only grew. "I'll be over it by the time you fly back home… so I figured I wouldn't worry you" you added, trying to sound upbeat despite the fatigue that weighed you down.

Bakugo pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezed shut in frustration. "Great plan" he muttered sarcastically. "Do you have any idea how fuckin' worried I was when Deku told me you had to catch your breath on the stairs?"

You let out a nervous chuckle, hand rubbing the back of your neck. "You'll be happy to know I've started taking the elevator?" you offered, attempting to lighten the mood.

Bakugo's glare softened a little, but he wasn't about to let you off that easy. "Not the point, and you damn well know it. You should have told me, sweetheart. I don't care if it's “mild” or not. I should've been the first to know. If you're sick, I wanna be there for you, even if it's just through the phone."

The screen shook a bit as Bakugo let out an exasperated sigh. He cares, deeply, that much is clear- even if neither of you have taken the step to label what's going on between them. It's in the way his eyes softened after the initial anger, in the way he called you first thing after hearing the news, even with oceans between the two of you. "Just...take care of yourself, okay? And keep me updated, no matter how small the shit is. Got it?" Bakugo's voice was rough, but the concern unmistakable.

"Heh, you care about me" you couldn't help but poke fun, laying back and stretching your arms above your head. The chilly morning mist moved the translucent curtains, but you couldn't feel warmer. As you settled back on the bed, the phone angle shifted, giving him a clearer view of your "pajamas".

"I care about you not being a dumba-" Katsuki began, his usual attitude ready on his tongue, but it fizzled out as you derailed his train of thought. His eyes fixated on the bright red stylized skull stitched across the cotton top you wore. He already knew the answer, but asked anyway. "...Is that my shirt?" he demanded in a softer voice, his cheeks quickly gaining a subtle pink.

"Ah, ya, sorry. You left it here last time you were over" You admitted a little sheepish, fingers nervously started to play with the hem. The fabric was worn and soft from use, and it's comforting in a way that's hard to describe. "I've been having really bad body aches and it's the softest shirt here" you added. "I'll take it off if you want?" The offer is genuine, but it's clear from the reluctant tilt of your head and the way your grip tightened on the fabric, that you'd rather not part with the small piece of him you have.

"No" Katsuki blurted out more quickly than he intended, his ears now matched the soft pink of his cheeks. He turned away from the camera, as if his sudden interest in the landscape in the distance could hide the heat he felt creeping up his neck. "It's fine."

"Bakugo Katsuki- are you blushing?" you teased, amusement clear as day. He could practically hear the smirk in your words. Your sleepy grin was wide on his screen, and he could feel it without looking.

"Hush" he growled, trying to regain composure as he glared into the camera at you. The red in his cheeks deepened despite his best efforts. "It's not like I haven't seen you in my stuff before. Just... keep the damn shirt on if it makes you feel better" he conceded gruffly, unable to hide the fact that, deep down, he likes seeing you wrapped up in something of his. Bakugo's eyes narrowed as he caught the bratty grin still stretched across your face, your smugness speaking volumes through the screen. His initial embarrassment at being caught blushing quickly evaporated. If the little brat wanted to play, then fine by him.

"But don’t think you’re off the hook for keeping me in the dark, darlin'" he chuckled darkly, the sound sent a shiver down your spine. Your grin faltered, replaced by a nervous gulp. You knew that tone, the one that signaled you had danced on the line and now Katsuki was about to remind you just who’s in charge.

He leaned closer to the phone, his red eyes piercing into yours. "Once I’m back, you’re gonna wear that shirt- and that shirt only" Bakugo said with a feral grin, the demand in his voice leaving no room for argument. "Then I’m gonna spank that ass of yours until it’s as red as the skull on your chest." The edge in his voice stole your breath away, and you sat up a little straighter.

Bakugo was miles away but it felt like he was here, invading your bedroom, taking over every inch of air around you. You could feel his authority fall over you like a comforting weight. Your body already ached for his touch, for the slap of his hands, the sharp bite of his teeth, and the relentless pounding of his cock. A whimper you didn't realize you were holding back slipped out, and now Katsuki was the one leaning back with a satisfied smirk. “Better be good for me and rest up, brat. I'll see you when I get home.”

No pressure tags for the Kacchan fans!: @bakubunny @neon-gothicc @dcsiremc @sadgirltrademark @purecoco

#zaz drabbles #minors dni #long distance au #fwb au #illness comfort #katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader

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mothmanavenue · 9 months

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i just wanna keep calling your name until you come back home

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iybms · 1 year

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"i thought about it."

preview, fwb au

#klance #my art #fwb au #2021

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captain-hen · 4 months

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and if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) buddie | rated E | chapters: 1/18 | 4k

"So,” Buck begins, and Eddie wrenches his gaze away rapidly, wondering what the fuck is wrong with him tonight. “Would you be able to have casual sex with someone you trusted?” “Huh?” Eddie looks at Buck blankly. His brain feels oddly fuzzy, although he’s barely finished his first beer of the night. Buck is looking at him strangely—his blue eyes seeming darker than usual, his gaze intense and piercing. For some reason, Eddie can feel his stomach tying itself into knots. “What? I mean…yeah? I suppose so, but where would I find someone like that?” “Right here,” Buck says easily, making Eddie sputter. “You could sleep with me.” or, an alternate look at season 6 where buck and eddie have been casually sleeping together since before the beginning of the season. somehow, this changes both everything and nothing at all.

taglist under the cut! (let me know if you'd like to be added or removed)

@tawaifeddiediaz @leothil @jeeyuns @inkmortal-trash389 @astarions-blog @poughkeepsies @sebastienlelivre @buckley-diaz-rules @remembertheskittles @amadistuff @bccalling @ice-sculptures @eddiebabygirldiaz @myfeelingshavefeelings @sherlockcrossing @girldadbuddie @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @satvojihusana @zouisalmightie

#NO ONE look at me lol #fwb au #neethu writes #buddie #buddie fic #911 #911 fic #tuserzee #userisha #alielook

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je-riais · 21 days

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I have a really angsty FWB to lovers AU rattling around in my brain and I wanted to doodle it out

#Cherik #revivecherik #trying something new #my art #FWB au

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avonne-writes · 1 month

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I haven't mentioned this on the blog yet but I also have a friends with benefits AU in my drafts, where Buck and Bucky are best friends who sometimes (most times lately) sleep together and Bucky is in love with Buck but doesn’t know how to change their relationship and not risk losing it.

#mota #buck x bucky #john egan #gale cleven #fwb au #ta au

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jinlias · 10 months

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a/n: fwb slash enemies to lovers yeji ;)

“oh my god, y/n, hi!” chaeryeong’s peppy voice makes you look over, spotting her and yeji making their way to you. your friend greets you with open arms while she just stands there, shamelessly checking you out.

she’s extremely obvious too, letting her eyes roam your figure as her tongue swirls around an ice cube, a glass of the neatest strawberry flavored whiskey in her right hand.

you clear your throat before turning to look at your friend. “congrats chaer, amazing as always” for chaeryeong to celebrate her recent engagement, she specifically requested you and yeji out of the bunch to behave on the special night.

“thank you! thank you for coming, can i get you a drink?” she throws her arm over your shoulder and you’re about to reply when you see she spots some friend from college, you can’t help but nod and whisper a ‘go ahead’ to which she thanks you with the most sincere eyes and runs off to attend the guest.

“no faux date to scare me off?” you smirk at yeji, taking her glass to sip at her drink.

when you place it back in her hand, she finally speaks “you haven’t been responding my calls” her eyes study you, trying to figure out what changed to make you ghost her.

“i’m here now” it’s silent for a couple of minutes where your eyes speak for themselves. somehow, she’s agreed to wait five minutes to follow you, and you have proposed meeting her in the nearest bathroom. good thing chaeryeong’s new house was actually the size of your entire neighborhood.

adrenaline courses through you when she appears behind you, leaning against the door as she locks it. she’s been thinking about ripping the clothes off you since she saw you walk in, but now that she has you here, such easy access, she wants to take her time savoring you, drink you in. she wants a show, you can tell by the way her eyes slowly travel down your silhouette, only to met your eyes when she reaches your face.

you would’ve loved to hear her say it, but if you wait one more second the heat is going to consume you. your fingers expertly undo the zipper of your dress, like you’ve done this many times before, all while looking at her. you wanted to see her reaction. but her feline eyes were too focused on your skin. the fabric covering your chest falls and pools at your hips, she knows all she had to do was pull your underwear to the side, but seeing as it finally falls to the floor gives her some sort of pride and satisfaction she will never be able to explain. she hates you, despises you even, but there is no one she wants more.

when you turn and she gets a better view, she closes her eyes, but even then you can see her orbs rolling, and huffs a breath of annoyance, as if it was annoying how much she wanted you, and how weak you made her. yeji tugs you closer by the elastic of your underwear, and when she has you more than close, brings you into a kiss, her hand holding you in place at the back of your head.

she doesn’t hesitate a second to yank the hair tie holding your hair together, not bothering to apologize for your appearance as she devoured your lips. she uses her tongue a lot, she already knows what you like, but truthfully tonight is about her. the oldest has been searching for you non stop, you owe her one.

now, if she were to ask you, you’d say you got a teeny bit scared about where your acquaintance was going. it was starting to be less of a stress reliever and more of the cause of said stress.

but, that’s the last thing either of you think of when she helps you up to the sink, your own hands desperately grasping for the end of her dress while all that echoes are the sounds of you swollen lips crashing against the other.

your nails drag up her thighs with the dress, and you’re not as delicate with her underwear as you were with your dress

“take them off or i will” you’re tugging on them so desperately, yeji glares as she drags them down her legs, and she was going to place them somewhere else, but you had other plans, snatching it from her hand “i’ll take that, thank you.”

god, yeji is still so pissed, she’s letting you boss her around because she knows as soon as you both leave this bathroom it’s to one place only and that’s yours, it will never end here, so she let’s you take it in for now, drag her around as you try to find a happy spot for the two of you, with your legs tangled and your juices merging just as much as you.

you never wanted to have the conversation, because truly avoiding her had been doing you more bad than good, you’ve craved her in ways you’ll never be able to explain, just express with the way your hands tug her closer even though any closer and she’ll be on top of you and this cramped, surely overpriced sink.

the only times your lips detach is for either of you to moan or press kisses elsewhere, but the kisses aren’t many as somehow you always come back to her lips. “look at me” one hand is controlling your hip, the other right at the back of your head, her rings tangled in your hair as your own hands either hold on to her or hold you a couple of inches above the ceramic.

you’re too focused on where you meet, until she stops your hips altogether and repeats it “look at me”

when you finally look up you notice how her lipstick is smeared all around her lips, her eyes look heavier than ever and you can just tell she can’t wait to come, and neither can you, but for some reason, disciplining you is more important. “what?” it’s in the brattiest voice ever, because what on earth could you care about right now except the beating of your heart much lower than where it belongs.

she allows your cunt to meet her in rough thrusts for every word. “don’t fucking do that again” especially not that, this conversation was the sole purpose of avoiding her. “understood?”

“crystal clear” you press your lips into a thin, fake smile and attempt to reach for her again.

thankfully, she tables the conversation, but you know you don’t have much time until she brings it up again. you just had to remember the only reason you kept her around after all was for a good fuck,

right?

#itzy imagine #itzy x reader #itzy imagines #itzy x you #yeji x reader #yeji imagines #yeji x you #yeji smut #etl!yeji #fwb au

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elusivecagedmockingbird · 3 months

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Orbiting: pt.3°

: pt.1° | pt.2°

[icehockey!jungkook x figureskater!reader] [1.8k idiot fwb to lovers; mutual pining, TONS of smut, use of cock ring]

"Jungkook, you can't be serious," you're limping around your home following the cause of your headache.

"I am," he deadpans. He pushes your throw pillows on one side of the couch and plops himself in it. "Back to your room, Y/N. Or do you need me to tuck you in?" he teases with a grin.

Tired from the day and your ankle still throbbing with pain, you huff and retreat to your room. You don't bother closing your door.

"You coming?" You call.

A second passes. Then another. He didn't fall asleep already, did he?

A thud is heard from your living room. Then, Jungkook appears in your doorway.

Shirtless. You gulp, trying not to salivate. He knows he looks good; he doesn't need the boost.

"You're insatiable," he chastises, but at the same time, he's walking closer to you. "But you need to rest, babe." His hands softly rub your head, then tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

"It's not that. It's cold outside," you roll your eyes. "Can't have you getting sick, at least not until your game tomorrow. Your team needs their star player," you jest.

Jungkook only giggles, already claiming his side of your bed. The side that's always been his. Even before this whole friends-with-benefits thing, Jungkook always slept on the right side of your bed during sleepovers or when he needed to crash the night after a long practice.

You lived a bit closer to the rink—that was his excuse to the guys on his team when they teased him. Also, his mom agreed that it wasn't safe for him to be driving late at night, especially when he was already tired. Sure, she didn't know he slept in your room, but it was all 'platonic' then. The important thing was he was getting good rest. It really wasn't because of your warmth beside him in bed and that he found comfort in seeing you after an exhausting day that made him sleep better. Or so he thinks.

It's a tug-of-war when it comes to him admitting how he feels on certain moments.

"Hey, get your head out of the gutter, Jeon," you mimic his words earlier.

With a pout but round eyes filled with mischief, Jungkook retaliates with tickles. In a fit of laughter, you try to get him to stop, "Gguk.. my fo—ot."

"Oh, shit," he raises his hand to stop. "Sorry, babe."

Catching your breath, you throw him a glare, "You're lucky I can't tackle you." Jungkook responds with by nuzzling his head in your neck and littering pecks on your neck. "Go to sleep," he mumbles between kisses.

You let out a chortle, "You're the one wreaking havoc on my bed, Jeon."

He hums coyly in reply.

"Hey," you nudge his head on your shoulder,"Thank you."

Jungkook tilts his head and and kisses your lips. "Always," his voice soft, sleep slowly penetrating him. You let a minute pass until his breathing evens out, and then, slowly and very carefully, you press your lips to his forehead.

"Night, Gguk," you whispered.

You were a morning person. And from the moment you wake up at 6 A.M, you follow your routine to a T.

The alarm goes off for the second time and the clock already reads 6:13 A.M. Your hands struggle to reach your phone on the bedside table and it doesn't help that Jungkook keeps pulling your body further down the bed. Your hips are pinned with his tattooed hands, back arched from pleasure, and legs dangle on the edge of the bed.

Kneeled at the foot of your bed, Jungkook pushes his face deeper between your thighs. His warm tongue switching between sucking and flicking your clit. The lewd sounds of wet pleasure and your breathless moans echoes around your room, drowning the blaring alarm.

You plead for more. You want more. You need more. More pleasure, more of Jungkook. So, you grab his head and push him towards your sex while you buck your hips. Jungkook only groans in response. You can feel your orgasm nearing, but right before you unravel, he pulls away.

"Fucking insatiable." Jungkook licks his lips, tongue catching every drop of you, "And I love it." He stands, his hard cock springing and leaking, then reaches for something in your bottom drawer. But before his hand could re-emerge from the box, you already know what to expect.

Both of your breathing picks up, eyes meeting each other. You were the first to break away. Your eyes traveling down to where his hands are—one shamelessly pumps his dick and the other holds a vibrating cock ring.

With your good foot, you push yourself back up to the bed. "Good girl," Jungkook smirks.

"You gonna stand there all day or are you going to fuck me?" You taunt.

"Nah, I plan to wreck you, babe."

Cock ring in place around his dick, Jungkook aligns himself to your cunt. He's only a tip in and you can already feel the vibrations. Jungkook feels good, too. His brows furrowed, mouth hang open and quiet moans spill.

Truly insatiable and impatient, you pull Jungkook by his arms, "Wreck me. I want all of you, Jungkook."

The sounds your mouth and pussy make and the smell of sex permeating the air intensifies the pleasure Jungkook feels. He would love to start every day like now—buried inside you, your pussy clenching and sucking him back in every time he pulls out. Your whines grow pitchier every second, and Jungkook knows you're close. But he wants to prolong this moment, despite his cock throbs with want to release. So, he plunges deep into your pussy and stills. The cock ring still vibrates around his cock and sits perfectly in line with your clit.

Tears gather at your eyes and while you're always pretty, this look you have when you're being fucked dumb has to be one of Jungkook's favorites.

"Wanna cum," you plead. You're at each other's mercy, but it's Jungkook who drives you to orgasm—coming undone and moaning in unison.

The moment passes, and you both hiss at sensitivity from the vibrating cock ring.

"Wear my jersey to tonight's game, yeah?"

Loud sirens go off as the box opens, and the players run to the ice.

Your eyes are quick to scan the huddle, looking for the man with the 97 print on his jersey.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," the announcer booms. "Welcome to the beginning of the hockey season. Now, Neil, who do you think will be our star player this season?"

"Easy question, Jack. I would place my bets on Jeon Jungkook. This kid is dubbed the golden maknae of their team and to outsiders."

You agree. Jungkook truly excels in everything he does. And while it may seem as if things come easy for him to strangers and mere acquaintances, no one sees the early mornings and long hours of work he put in to be the best.

"What a phenom. I've heard at least 3 NHL clubs would love to have him on their roster. Truly an incredible young athlete. And if you haven't seen him before, you're in for a real treat."

Goal after goal has been made within the past 50 minutes. On the ice, Jungkook glances at the bright scoreboard. It's neck and neck, and the crowd chaotically shouts. He hears their team name louder, he thinks. And he can't help but feel driven at the thought that one of those loud cheers of his name is from you in the stands.

"It's your shot, Jeon," his teammate shouts as they pass around the puck. Jungkook is terrible at multitasking, but as he dodges the opposing team trying to get the puck, he quickly peeks at the side of the bleachers where he knows you always sit. It's a brief moment, but he sees you—hair tied with green ribbons, their team color, and you're wearing his old jersey. He was right, too. You were screaming his name.

He smirks. Speeds up, and the rest happens in quick succession—Jungkook shifts his hockey stick to take the puck, glides it to the center, and makes a goal.

The cheers grow louder. Despite remaining seated among the jumping crowd, Jungkook was quick to find you again, and you made eye contact. He smiles and you blow him a kiss back.

Still high on adrenaline, Jungkook slams his hips behind you. His sulky mood earlier from not being able to fuck you in the showers turned a 180 because he's reminded how much he prefers this view, anyway. His hands pull at your braid while you're fucking yourself back into him.

A strangled call of his name leaves your mouth. He doesn't like that you're holding back your moans. Slipping his cock out of you, he holds your leg delicately and flips you within the tight space of his car, knocking the breath out of you.

Above you, Jungkook's abs glisten with sweat, and his tip slick with your arousal and his. You sit up, wincing from the discomfort from your foot, and pull him for a kiss.

He loves it when you get this eager and hungry for a kiss. It has him fucked. Not only does it make him rock hard but it has his heart constricting, too. It doesn't help that no one else has made a mess of him like this. And he’s not just talking about the mind-numbing, toe-curling pleasure he gets every time you have sex.

Years ago, he thought he made peace with the fact that all you could ever be was best friends. But ever since your arrangement, his desire for you grew. He didn't even think it was possible, but here he is a year later. His arm clung to your waist, laying you on his backseat cushion. Jungkook continues to thrust into you. He picks up his pace, and his eyes are glued to your juggling tits before he bends over, pushing his cock deeper into you, and attaches his mouth to play with your right nipple.

As he always does each time you fuck, he makes sure your pleasure comes first. If he can't be outright with his feelings, Jungkook secretly hopes that the way he fucks you—putting you first and taking care of you during and after sex, conveys his feelings and intention. And with every kiss you pull him in for, the unspoken words at the tip of his tongue would smooth over yours.

He would never deny that the attraction towards you has always been there, but he's not shouting it from the mountains either.

At least, not yet.

Plus, he thinks that if you really wanted more from your no-strings-attached arrangement, you would have said so. And he isn't that stupid to be the one who will bring it up, all because his heart and his dick is in-sync. He'll wait it out, he decides. Whether it's for his feelings to subside or for you to feel the same and beat him to confessing, you've always been braver of the two of you, anyway.

He'll wait.

For now, he's willing to give parts of himself that you want to take.

Jungkook's fingers squeeze in between your bodies, and it reaches your clit. Two fingers aggressively rub the hood of your clit while his thumb softly flicks at the nub. In a matter of seconds, you squirt. And Jungkook can't wait to drive you home and do it all over again.

>> Page 4

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bts fanfic #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook x oc #jungkook fluff #bts imagines #bts smut #fwb au #fwb couple #jungkook #bts jungkook

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drunk-on-dk · 2 years

Text

All I Think About | Choi Seungcheol (m)

✦pairing: fwb!Seungcheol x afab reader ✦genre: smut (minors DNI), a lil bit of fluff and angst ig

✦warnings: teasing, a lil bit of jealousy, emotional constipation, grinding on the thigh, fingering, unprotected sex (pls wear protection), edging, calls the reader a slut, a lil degradation then, rough sex woohoo, kissing on the neck, anyways minors pls do not interact with this thank you. ✦wc: ~3.6K AN: Hi all, this is my first smut/fic post on this Tumblr. I haven't been on this platform in a while, so I apologize as I'm still getting used to it and trying to get more interactive. Otherwise, I just wanted to bite the bullet and get my first writing out on here, it probably could use a little bit more proofreading, but I'm pretty happy with it otherwise. I was heavily inspired by that Enhypen Foreshadow and Taylor Swift Style remix (IYKYK), and played a good bit off of Style for fun. Let me know what you think, and I hope you enjoy (;

Seungcheol pulled up to your place tonight with no headlights, sending you a text that he arrived and that he was waiting outside in his car. You snuck down the staircase, praying your roommates wouldn’t hear you as you trekked quietly to the front door.

They’d absolutely kill you if they knew you were meeting up with him after you had just spent the last week spiraling over a recent post you saw of him. He was out and about in a club with a group of girls in the class below you. All night, his group of friends and him had been posting belligerent stories of them dancing and drinking with the girls. In the background of one story specifically, he had his arm wrapped around a pretty girl, a gummy smile adorning his face as she leaned over to whisper something in his ear. This had sent you into a week-long spiral, locking yourself in your room only to leave for lectures as necessary and the occasional meal.

However, you had no right to be jealous, and you knew damn well that you didn’t. Seungcheol and you had been best friends for years now, recently becoming friends with benefits the past couple of months after a night of drunken neediness and passion. Both of you had decided to continue the shenanigans since it felt good to let off the steam together, and it just felt so right. Your frequent hangouts becoming much more than the study sessions and casual movie nights. You found yourself becoming addicted to his touch, his scent, his lips; you could go on and on about how he drove you wild in such a different way than before.

You knew you were headed towards rock bottom one night. Your heart fluttered a little faster than normal when he looked softly into your eyes, kissing you with passion as always, hands roaming, and whispering sweet nothings. You thought maybe he felt it too, maybe you should express how you felt, that this was becoming much more than friends with benefits to you. But you were too emotionally constipated to ever say anything and feared the worst. You pushed him away that night, cutting things off abruptly, and escorting him out of your house.

Resultingly, you hadn’t spoken for a month up until now due to how things had ended. It had been a while since either of you had heard from each other, giving you both the space that you needed. However, tonight he had texted you out of the blue, asking what you were doing and if he could come pick you up. You almost jumped out of your bed in giddiness, only for it to die down realizing exactly what he was seeking. Of course, you obliged still, agreeing to meet with him but only on the terms that it had to be on the down low. He knew that your roommates weren’t the biggest fan of him, as they had been his friends too, always encouraging him to speak to you about how he truly felt. He knew he had disappointed them the day after you had kicked him out, your closest roommate eyeing him down as she crossed paths with him on campus.

You shook your head staring at the brief text chain between you and Seungcheol, ashamed of what you two have become. You never thought you’d lose a friend like this, nor that you would ever agree to a midnight booty call in advance. Of course, you were still excited to be reunited with Seungcheol, excitement bubbling in your stomach at the thought of seeing him again. You couldn’t deny that you yearned for his touch, but even more so yearned to hear his laugh again or to be the one to make him smile. You had to hold yourself back from skipping towards the passenger side of his car, trying to remain as indifferent as possible as you opened the door only to see his annoyingly handsome face again.

Seungcheol pulled out of your driveway, turning on his headlights as he drove out of the neighborhood. The air in the car was thick with tension, quiet music playing in the background as you both avoided being the first person to initiate conversation. You kept your attention ahead of you, only focusing on the cars passing by and noting the similar landmarks that you usually passed along the way to Seungcheol’s place. In comparison, Seungcheol couldn’t keep his eyes off you, you felt his gaze shifting towards you every so often, which made you suppress your blush just in case he could see it. If you weren’t being so stubborn, you would have giggled and scolded him to keep his eyes on the road. However, you couldn’t acknowledge the way you felt his eyes burning into you tonight, too scared to spark the conversation first.

Upon arriving at Seungcheol’s place, he quickly turned off the engine and jogged around to open the passenger door for you. You gave him a shy smile to say thank you. His hand gently brushed your lower back as he guided you towards the front door in silence, sending shivers down your spine feeling electrified by his touch. He only took his hand off your back to shuffle in front of you to unlock his front door.

You took advantage of his back facing you, allowing yourself to analyze his figure for the first time tonight. You so badly wanted to run your hands over his broad shoulders or through his thick black hair. It had been slicked back after he kept running a nervous hand through it during the drive, which was something you noticed in addition to his burning eyes. His bright, thick lips were in a pout as he scrambled with his keys.

Seungcheol finally unlocks his front door, holding it open for you and beckoning you to enter before him. The entryway was pitch black; the only light being provided by the moonlight shining through the windows. You both shuffled around in silence, removing your coats and shoes, his hand once again brushing you gently as he reaches for you.

This is when you lost it, shying away from him as your voice betrayed you, letting out what sounded like a whimper, “Don’t you have some other girl to fuck around with now, Seungcheol?”

You can hear him scoff, his hands now grabbing both your arms and slowly leading you back against the wall. “Why do you think that, Y/N?” He’s got you right where he wants you, the soft lighting from the moon illuminating your face so that he can see his effect on you. The light bounces off the wall behind you, allowing you to better see his features as he stares incredulously back at you.

“I s-saw it on Jeonghan’s story, you’ve been hanging out with all those girls lately,” you stutter out and it looks like a lightbulb goes off in his head. You refrain from banging your head back into the wall, feeling incredibly exposed and silly for ever saying anything to your friend. “J-Just thought… thought that maybe you were talking to one of them.”

He lets out a soft laugh, one of the hands that had caged you against the wall wanders up to your cheek to cup it. You try not to lean into his touch, but you can’t help it. His rough thumb caresses your skin so softly that the gentle touch sends heat right down to your core.

“Well, that may be true,” he sighs, and you feel your heart sink a bit. You begin to realize that this is a mistake, squirming to push him away once again. Instead, he shocks you by dipping down to your neck, scattering hot kisses from your ear to your jaw. Hot breath once again tickles your ear, his hands roaming all over your body as you try not to buck your hips into him. “They don’t drive me crazy like you do, I can’t get you out of my mind, Y/N.”

You let out another whimper at his statement, allowing him to continue caressing your body and finally giving in to him. You can feel his smirk pressing into your neck. It’s almost as if he’s trying to feel your pulse through the way he presses his lips against you, relishing in how your heartbeat quickens at his confession as he starts to pepper more kisses along your sensitive spots. You can’t hold back anymore, hands desperately gripping at his shirt as he begins to nip and suck on your neck with new fervor.

Breathing out heavily, you confess, “fuck, Seungcheol, I can’t get you out of my mind either. I missed this, I missed you,” you moan as his teeth graze your jaw, “I missed us.” A confession you hadn’t meant to make, but so be it.

“Same here, baby,” Seungcheol almost growled, this time attaching your lips to his in a heated kiss. You both kissed like you had been starving for one another, his mouth capturing your soft moans and whines with his as you battled for dominance. Your hands made your way to his hair, pulling at the strands as he lets out a groan that has your knees going weak.

Seungcheol notices this, slotting a thigh between your legs as you become needier for his touch. He has you fully pressed up against the wall now, his tongue battling with yours as he lets out soft curses between hot kisses. Your heated core is now pressed up against his thigh, his hands running down your waist to latch onto your hips to help guide you as you grind against him. You moan in relief, his thigh feels so good against your center that you’re almost certain you’ll come undone right then and there.

Your movements get more and more desperate, making Seungcheol’s grasp on your hips a lot firmer than before to forcefully stop your motions. “Why’d you do that, Cheol,” you almost cry out as the high that you’d been chasing slowly ebbed away from your core.

“You don’t get to cum unless I say so,” he spits out as he forcefully grasps your face in one hand. The other hand traveled down to press against your folds through the thin layer of underwear beneath your skirt. The pressure of his hand sent a shock wave of pleasure through you even though you had just been denied an orgasm. “You know what, actually, you don’t get to cum unless you're cumming around my cock.”

Seungcheol lifts you up, throwing you over his shoulder as he carries you to the bedroom. Unceremoniously, he throws you down onto the bed and begins pulling all garments off your body. He litters kisses all over your exposed skin, wasting no time whatsoever as he yanks your bra off and immediately attaches his lips to your nipple. You attempt to fumble with his belt as he pushes you down onto his bed, and he pulls away from you to only pull his shirt off his body. Taking this time as he hovers above you on his knees, he tsks staring down at you in awe, and runs two fingers across your folds, “so beautiful for me, baby. Always so needy for me, look how fucking wet you are just from grinding against my thigh.”

You let out a moan as he sinks both fingers into your seeping core, covering your mouth to absorb your screams into his own. He’s not taking it easy on you as he begins fucking his fingers into you slowly, teasingly, and eventually increases to a brutal pace. He rips your hand away from your mouth, holding it above your head as he continues fingering you, his fingers curling into you and hitting the exact spot that he knows makes you crumble. “Don’t hold back, let me hear you cry out for me.”

You’re breathing heavily as he continues his ministrations, his thumb coming up to rub your clit which earns a scream in between your bated breaths. He feels your walls tightening around his fingers, and he knows your body too well. He can tell by the way your legs threaten to snap shut, using his shoulder to keep them open as he pushes you as close as he can towards the edge. You can feel the pleasure building up again, the pit of arousal in your stomach feeling as if it’s ready to explode as your hips chase the high caused by his fingers.

To your dismay, he pulls out from between your folds, and you’re quick to start begging, “Cheol, pl-please, you were making me feel so good.” He’s quick to shut you up, shoving his fingers right into your mouth.

“Remember what I said, pretty girl?” He hums, keeping his fingers in your mouth as you suck pathetically on them, you nod knowing the exact instructions he gave you earlier. “I said you only get to cum around my cock.”

He pulls his fingers away, messily leaving traces of wetness around your lips, and he can’t help but pull you back in for another heated kiss. He tastes yourself on your lips, and it drives him crazy, grinding his hips right into yours. He finally gives in as you successfully unbuckle his belt this time, helping him shuffle out of his jeans and boxers whilst never letting his lips leave yours. Once his pants are finally off, you reach for his cock, and it already feels hot and heavy in your hand. His size still excited you to this day, his length feeling so big in your tiny hand as you begin to jerk him off using the bit of precum from his tip.

Breathlessly, Seungcheol breaks away from the kiss, lips wandering down your neck to your chest and back to your nipples. He’s groaning against your chest as he sucks on one mound, the other hand coming up to play with the other.

“So big, Cheol, can’t wait for you to fill me up,” you cry out as he sucks extra hard at your nipple, pinching the other one harshly. “It’s all I think about, is you filling me up so good.” Your hand continues to work at his hard length, but he doesn’t allow you to do so for much longer, muttering something about how he won’t last long if you continue touching him like that.

He pulls away to line up with you, his tip teasing your entrance as he looks at you with the softest eyes of the night, “still clean for you, baby, wouldn’t ever think of fucking anyone else but you. Am I crossing a line saying that? All I can think about is fucking you.”

Moaning out, you wrap your legs around him encouraging him, “please, please just do it already.” He slides into you, your warm walls immediately taking him in as if he was made specifically for you. He groans at how tight you feel around him, swearing that he’ll never get sick of how you clench around him every time. You’re both a moaning mess, your nails digging crescent moons into his back as he fills you up completely.

He starts thrusting into you, your legs tightening around him to keep him from teasing you as he pulls his length slowly in and out of you. “So warm and tight, baby. I won’t go anywhere, don’t worry.” His body is now pressed down against yours, your legs pulling him as close as you can as he grinds into you, and his arms next to your head are the only thing holding his full weight from you.

Your legs are already shaking by the time he begins to pick up his pace, the friction of his movement against your clit sending you into madness as he thrusts in and out of you. His lips work at your neck, leaving love bites all along the skin as he whispers curses and dirty words into them.

“Please, fuck me harder,” you begin to cry out, the intense pleasure building up in your core for the final time tonight as your hips start to chase his to pick up the speed, “I can’t take it anymore, Cheol, please just fuck me harder, I need it.”

He’s encouraged by your begging, grabbing your legs and pulling them over his shoulders to get a better angle on you. He doesn’t wait, immediately fucking you harder and faster than before. “Does my little Y/N like that?” He antagonizes between heavy breaths, his pace not faltering as he brings a thumb to your clit. “Who would have thought my best friend was so dirty, such a fucking slut for me, baby.”

“I’m your slut, Cheol, all yours.” You cry out as he keeps up his pace, his cock pounding into you relentlessly as his thumb works at your most sensitive spot. You’re moaning out, tears almost falling from your eyes at the brutal way his hips slam into yours, the pleasure only getting more intense with each thrust.

He knows you’re ready to cum, feeling the way your walls get impossibly tighter around him and at the way your legs begin to shake on his shoulders. You’re crying out at each thrust, only egging him on as he’s starting to reach his end himself.

“Please, let me cum,” you’re screaming, reaching out for his hand that’s working at your clit, the pleasure almost feeling too intense as you try to refrain from cumming without his permission.

Seungcheol continues fucking into you as you beg, keeping the relentless pace until he no longer can hold back himself. “Cum with me, baby,” he’s groaning, as he snaps his hips into yours in such a pleasurable way, you’re immediately milking his cock for all it’s worth. His release follows yours, painting your walls with the white, hot liquid. Yours spasming around him, and he can’t help but give you a few extra leisurely thrusts to work you through your entire orgasm, even if it overstimulates him.

Pulling out of you, he watches as his cum drips from between your folds. It’s a beautiful sight, but not as beautiful as the smile you give him when he finally makes eye contact with you. He curses himself for ever letting you two get this way, curses himself for not fighting you the day you pushed him out of your house, and curses himself for never saying how he truly felt.

Before Seungcheol can utter a word, you’re popping up from the bed and sauntering over to the bathroom to clean up. He takes this time to clean himself up and compose his thoughts. This wasn’t just a booty call for him, he truly did want to reconcile your friendship, or propose even more than that. You truly were all he thought about.

Little does he know, you’re in the bathroom in the same predicament. This night only makes you realize you can’t go much longer without Seungcheol back in your life, even if that means that tonight was the last time you two would ever hook up. You needed to tell him that he can’t play with your heart anymore, that you should either go back to just being friends or figure out what your relationship is.

When you walk out of the bathroom back into his room, you’re both ready to speak your minds as Seungcheol and you begin your sentences.

He lets out a laugh, “go ahead, you first, Y/N.”

You shake your head, signaling that he should go first, “no, no, I’d like to hear what you have to say.” He smiles as you make your way over to him on the bed. He’s laying back on the headboard, his hair messy as he follows your figure with endearing eyes. He’s so cuddly yet fucked out at the same time, that you can’t believe he can look so cute and hot all at once. The temptation to curl up next to him is extremely dangerous, so you keep your distance as you sit down next to him on the bed.

Sighing, Seungcheol finally begins to spill out how hard the past month had been without you in his everyday routine. He rambles on and on as you listen to your best friend turned lover confess his feelings about you. “I truly do think of you, every second of every day, Y/N. I don’t know how it happened, and I don’t know why it took so long for me to realize it. I can’t believe the fact that you kicked me out of your place that one night actually sent me into a downward spiral. I’m sick of us not talking, not going to each other for comfort, and not being friends anymore. However, I’ve realized you are so much more to me than just a friend, and especially more than a friend with benefits. Please, just let me know if I’m making you uncomfortable by confessing all this, I just am going crazy thinking about you all the time-“

You cut him off, rushing across the bed to press your lips to his in a hard kiss. He looks up at you with shock as you pull away, beginning to mutter out another word but you hush him. “Shut up, Cheol. I feel the same way, can’t ever stop thinking about you. I only kicked you out that day since I was so freaked out by my feelings. Clearly, I feel the same way since I almost lost it when seeing you with that girl on Jeonghan’s story last week.”

You both let out a laugh as he pulls you in for another kiss, pulling you into his arms and never letting you go for the night. “Stay with me tonight, Y/N. Stay with me for as long as you'd like.”

“Of course,” you smile up at him, and for the first time, you’re not frightened by the soft look in his eyes. “As long as you take me out on a real date tomorrow.”

There’s the gummy smile that you yearned to see, Seungcheol smiles down at you and promises you all the dates and more for as long as he can. “Believe me, it’s all I can think about, baby.”

#svthub #scoups smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #seungcheol smut #fwb au #choi seungcheol smut

1K notes · View notes

mingigoo · 1 year

Text

2 a.m. || Choi San

pairing ⇢ idol! San x makeup artist (prev. sex worker)! (fem) reader x wooyoung (kinda)

synopsis ⇢ it’s funny, you never thought you’d be underneath the Choi San, having him worship your body as if you were a goddess. The truth? You were just his little toy he could play with and toss around—good thing you liked it rough with no strings attached.

genre/au ⇢ idol au, and smut. Literally just smut.

warnings/tags ⇢ 18+ minors DNI, unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), they use each other for sex, Also San is dominant as shit, fingering, maybe a little toxic idk, licking, biting, slight choking, dirty talk (barely, but it’s there), creampie, hotel sex, fwb but they're not even friends, i am horrible with tags please let me know if I missed anything.

word count ⇢ 3.5k

taglist ⇢ @atinywhore @meowmeowminnie @roe-sinning @yeritheloml @shegotboreddsoo @kangyeosangelic @sanshineeeeee @8tinytings @yukine-smx @jjhmk @yesv01 @halesandy @ch0isa99ie @y00nzin0 @spiderrenjunfics

You belonged to him. He belonged to you.

Breaths intertwined, fingers locked, hearts beating at the same time.

You met him at two in the morning, the first day you merged bodies as if it was the only way to survive. His lips became yours; your breaths became one as your bodies clashed into each other like waves of the ocean.

Powerful, so, so powerful they could knock you over with one little breath of wind. He clawed, grasped, clung to any possible surface as his power would rush through you, in you, all around you.

You gasp for air, for a breath, anything. He took away the reality, spinning into your world with those pretty eyes of his. His hips would crash, his eyes would shut, his mouth would open, crying out your name.

You didn't belong to him. He didn't belong to you.

You were his distraction; his resource to get rid of his pent up attraction. And he was the same, a way for you to release the tension you kept inside. His body was indeed yours at two a.m, as yours was his—the only time the word lover could be used as he’d make love to you, lustfully and powerfully. His lips would find your hips, your thighs, your breasts. He worshiped you on his knees for the night.

But when the next day comes, you wouldn't know each other. His lips weren't on yours, and neither would his gaze meet yours. His hands were at his sides, even if they were once gripping your hips as he pounded into you the night before.

Who? Who is the man that used you? Took advantage of your body? Caressed every curve, kissed every spot? He was no one other than a famous idol, known for his sexy image but sweet personality. Choi San, a wolf in sheep's clothing, attacking his prey the minute the clock strikes two.

And you would be his victim over and over and over again. Worst part?

You liked it.

–

You sat in the backstage dressing room, a bottle of water clutched in your hand and your phone in the other. You watched the time tick, second by second, as the time neared for the boys to arrive. You spent your daylight as a makeup artist for a k-pop group—none other than ATEEZ. You loved them, in all honesty, given the turmoil you've been through with other groups. This group was less of a headache, and actually cared for the people around them.

It was refreshing.

Before you worked for ateez, at night you became a fox—another level of the woman you already are. As your day ended, you'd walk into the darkness of femininity, becoming a creature of the night. You were the one to prey on men’s little hearts, taunting them with all kinds of sins.

Now that your day job took up time even through the evening, you lost that sense of desire, unable to fulfill your aches. Call yourself a whore or a slut, whatever, it didn't bother you one bit. You were just making money—it was business.

But after all this time of constant care for eight very attractive men, your femme-fatale roots are breaking through the soil, tempting you with something as little as a look in your direction.

Especially San.

Choi San, a literal nightmare-daydream, devil incarnate. It was so strong that even his breathing turned you on. He was built like a mountain—and you wanted to climb it.

Your hands were sweaty, nervous for the first performance of the tour. You weren't performing, no, you were carefully making the boys pretty, paying close attention to every part of their body. Your ice-cold heart was about to boil over when a certain boy walked in, his hair freshly dyed black and his face bare of any makeup.

You knew his name, his personality type, his favorite color. You knew he liked his dick sucked off while you kneeled on the ground. He liked his hands in your hair, on your ass. He liked it when you moaned his name, and liked to claw at your back like a feline.

And after all this, there was nothing other than that mutual attraction.

“San, you can sit in y/n’s chair,” the head stylist signaled to where you were standing, your eyes focused on his sinister smile and his heartbreaker appearance.

He was already fitted into his stage look. Tight leather pants clung to his muscular frame, and a cropped black tank top fit his torso like it was made for him. His toned abs basically screamed at you while he stood tall, staring at you for a long while. The main stylist made a knowing face, and walked away to take one of the other boys.

“You can sit here.” you spoke strongly, despite the urge to toss him in the chair yourself. He obliged, but not before giving you a flirtatious smirk. He sat down in your chair, manspreading the minute his fine ass hit the cushion.

God fucking dammit.

You didn't say anything else. You just reached for your hairband, and then turned to San, who was looking up at you with that glitter in his eye—a look you knew all too well. A look he’s given you many times, as well as others—including his best friend.

Your hands brushed against his face, fitting the hairband to keep his silky hair out of your way. He kept his gaze locked on you, and with every movement, his eyes followed.

“Did you enjoy last night?” he asked nonchalantly, a cocky, slightly jealous smirk on those lips of his. “I heard you all the way down the hall.”

You paid no attention to your racing heart, ready to pounce any minute. It brought Wooyoung’s attention, who was sitting in the chair next to him. You didn't even realize he was there.

You didn't spend the night with San last night, rather it was spent with Wooyoung, a slight mistake because San wasn't available—and Woo looked delicious.

“Of course I did,” you admitted, mixing the foundations together to get his perfect shade, glancing over at the younger boy who made you come the night before. “It was amazing.”

He let out a chuckle, throwing his head back. You couldn't help but watch as his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“Was it better than me?” he purred, looking at you, and then at Wooyoung, who just looked away.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because I can.”

Ignoring the obvious answer, you set down the foundation tubes, gathering what you needed onto your hand and dipped the brush into it. You gently painted his face with the foundation, his already perfect skin looking even more flawless than it did before. His eyes pierced through yours, sinfully, as if he could see straight through your clothing.

Wooyoung couldn't keep his eyes off you, but he knew that messing with San’s toy wasn't a smart choice. It was too late, though, as you now know what wooyoung tastes like.

San was silent as the time passed while you took your time making him look pretty. The other stylists were done with the others, leaving you alone in the room with him, wooyoung leaving with hesitation.

He parted his lips as you applied a gloss to them, staring into your soul and setting your core on fire. His eyes were narrowed, dusted with black eyeshadow and sparkles.

You met his gaze. “What?”

He tilted his head at you as your fingers brushed against his lips. “You're just really fucking hot. Am I not allowed to admire?”

You raised your eyebrows, but you weren't surprised by his words. He probably needed to

You smirked then, leaning forward as you brushed your thumb over his lips. He let out a breath at your touch, his eyes locked on yours. “You can do more than admire.”

“Oh? Is that an invitation?” he leaned forward now, inches away from your lips. His eyes ignited a fire deep down. How could eyes turn you on? “What kind of invite?”

You shrugged, pulling back to set the lip gloss tube down. San leaned back in the chair, his legs spread wide, begging to be sat on. You looked down at his crotch for a moment too long. “Whatever you want it to be.”

“I can get on my knees now or later,” he said to you, dripping confidence.

You were lost in his lustful haze. You would be happy to let him kneel for you and mess you up to the point of no return, but you had a job to do—this can wait until later.

“Later, I’ll meet you in your room,” you hummed, pulling off his headband as you finished the look. You nodded your head towards the door. “You should go, everyone else is ready.”

He stood up, towering over you in his platform combat boots. He felt like some sort of god that lived off of worship, and you were going to give it to him. Worship him; his body.

And before he left, he didn't turn around when he said, “And no more wooyoung.”

—

You found yourself in your hotel room as midnight rolled around. San wasn't in his room yet, so you ended up distracting yourself with instant ramen and some TV.

You watched the clock with all your brain power, watching the arms move slowly and slowly. You couldn't take it anymore when the clock struck 1:45 in the morning, and you threw yourself out of bed to walk down the hall to San’s room.

It was late; no one else was awake to your knowledge. You knocked on his door, a totally different woman than you were when the sun was up. Your knees were already weak before he opened the door, but when he did, he grabbed your arm with a smirk, pulling you into the darkness of his room.

He spared no moment of time, slamming you against the closed door with force.

“I couldn't stop thinking about fucking you,” he groaned in your ear, his lips on your neck and his hands everywhere else. “It’s not fair.”

You let out a moan as he sucked on your neck, his hands piercing into your hips, fingernails like daggers.

“What's not fair?” you asked breathlessly.

He didn't let you say anything else. He was already shirtless, but began to claw at yours, pulling at the edges.

“That wooyoung got to be inside you.”

Your core twinged, sending pressure between your legs at those words. You began to wonder if he was jealous—or just territorial. It would make sense for him to only have you to himself, but only in bed and nowhere else. You liked it that way, it was less of a headache to share a physical relationship rather than emotional.

“Jealous?” you teased, your hands trailing down the waistband of his boxers, gripping his hard on. He gasped, as if you've never done it before, and shoved you harder into the door.

You were sure everyone would hear you.

You bared your teeth, biting his bottom lip as he tried to answer through his arousal.

“I,” he breathed, moaning as you sucked on his lip. “I’m the only one you can fuck,” His words were like fire on ice. You gulped, arching your body into him as his talented hands pulled your shirt off. “No one else can know how you taste.”

You gasped for air the minute his lips touched your breasts, his hand gripping it with force, his other hand on your ass.

“What if wooyoung does?” you mumbled out, trying to stir him up. It pleased you even more to see him disheveled over you.

He kissed your nipple, then your chest, and up your neck. All you saw was red.

“Never again,” he moaned, lips on yours now. His forehead clashed with yours, his eyes open to stare into your soul. “Your body is mine.”

You didn't care that he didn't love you. You didn't care that he only liked you for your body, because you felt the same way for him. His temple was there for worship, so you would become a believer.

Just as you were going to make love with your mouth, San was ahead of you. He gripped your hair, tightly, roughly, and pushed you to the ground. You peered up at him through your messy hair, his fingers still tangled in the strands.

“Suck me off.” he demanded, his lips parted and breathless already. It was already a pleasure to see you below him. Your fingertips grazed his sides, sliding down his underwear to his ankles. He kicked them off quickly, his dick pulsing for your touch. With his hands still in your hair, he shoved you into his length, causing you to moan immediately from his actions.

He was huge—bigger than most of your previous partners. Wooyoung was also big, But there was something about San that made you dream of everything. He made you come at the thought of him, wet dreams enveloping your mind.

As you drew your tongue along his tip, he grunted, almost crying out in an orgasm. You smiled as he cried out, taking pleasure in his sudden reaction. He may be skilled, but you were able to make him come with a single lick.

“Slow down.” he hissed, pulling you off him. You tumbled back slightly, noticing the pained look on his face. He was holding his orgasm in, almost as if he was embarrassed that it was almost over.

“San—”

He interrupted you by picking you up, gripping the back of your knees, lifting you over to the bed. He tossed you, harshly—with such force to knock the wind out of you.

He stood over the bed, looking down on you. You were experienced; a nightmare for vulnerable men. San was, in fact, the opposite of vulnerable. His toxicity felt like purity, his devilish gaze felt angelic. You complimented each other, bodies crashing, limbs intertwining, and you couldn't get enough of it.

He looked down at you for a moment, paying close attention to the curve of your hips. His finger glided down your side, his body begging to be inside you.

He crawled on top of you, grabbing your hips to position you on your back. Your ass pressed against his cock, feeling the slight drip of precum. “Your body is perfect,” he praised, unable to keep his hands off you. His fingertips dancing down your spine.

Before he forced himself inside you, he had to take some time, worried that he would reach his high before he got to enjoy more. His lips brushed your back, from the beginning of your neck to the curve of your bones. His hands gripped your ass like his life depended on it, and as he entered you, he held your hands over your head, pinning you to the mattress under his weight.

“Ah,” he hissed as he pumped into you, moving slowly, but rough. “You take me so well, baby.”

You felt yourself flood at his words—he always knew how to get you going. His hand met the back of your head, slamming it into the pillow, while his other one kept him upright. You gripped the duvet in your hands, nearly tearing the fabric as you suffocated in his power.

He slapped your ass, causing you to cry out in a moan. You arch your back even farther, sending him into a fit of breathlessness, him gasping for air through groans and whispers of your name, dangling off his lips like the unspoken bond between you two.

You moved as he moved, rhythmically, sinfully, artistically. His teeth pierced into your shoulder to muffle his moans, begging you without words to react. You moaned his name, he pushed into you, his hips rocking, eyes closing. He was one within you, pulsing through you, hearts beating at the same time. There wasn't an ounce of romanticism—no love, no string of fate. You needed him in one way, and it was enough.

“You're so wet, babygirl,” he flushed, sweat dripping from both your bodies, the sweet smell of sex taking over your senses. “All for me.”

You shook in your high, your muscles tight and heartbeat racing. With your vision fading at the edges, you shut your eyes tight, moaning out his name, craving to ride him like no tomorrow—He had other plans for tonight; he always needed to be in control.

“Jesus fucking christ y/n,” he let out a groan, his hand fisting your throat. You gasped for air, but him choking you sent your body over the edge, seeing stars and lines dancing in your hazy vision.

He moved quicker, but still amazingly well. His movements were smooth, his expression hidden behind you. He noticed your struggle to reach the end, and flipped you over without pulling out, lifting one leg and tossing it onto his shoulder

He now preyed on you as if he were about to attack, and as he began to thrust again, harder and harder each time, his fingers brushed your clit—finding it immediately. You moaned, hands still above your head despite the lack of force holding them.

“Your hand..” you hummed, unable to see or speak clearly. “Your hand feels so much better than mine.”

You must've set him on fire, because the minute he processed those words, he tossed his head back, locks of black hair sticking to his forehead. His teeth were clenched and eyes were shut tight, letting your name fall off his lips.

You weren't sure how long this lasted—time became nothing but a number to you. He tossed you around like a ragdoll, spending the night as a pillow princess when you normally took the reins. San’s presence was stronger, overpowering your tasteful skills, ruling your body as if he were a king. He made you come all over his dick, wetness surging below. He chuckled cockily as you came, slowing his movements, but you saw he was about to reach his high, too.

“Let me cum in you.” he huskily whined, his head pressed against yours. It wasn't a question, it was a demand. You had no qualms with being filled in his arousal, nodding into the mattress, unable to speak.

He fucked you deeply, letting out shaky breaths and sighs. When he came, his head clashed against yours, his hands caging you in on the sides of your head. You felt warmth radiate your core—a thick, smooth feeling took over your senses, and he stared down at your naked, sweating body.

His chest heaved, the moonlight peaking through the lush curtains, hitting his side like stardust. He pulled out of you then, slowly—much more gentle than a minute before.

His eyes were on yours, his lips curved upwards. “Was that better than wooyoung?” He arrogantly interrogated, knowing damn well what the answer was.

You laid there in a daze, his body still over yours. You breathed in the air of his room, feeling as high as a kite. “Mhm,” you acknowledged, closing your eyes. Usually you left immediately, giving each other space without ties, but you were so tired out from his intensity.

His eyes softened, nothing more, nothing less. He moved off you then lay next to you, something he never did before. There was usually no aftercare; no need for it. He hesitated, not knowing what to do with his arms as you laid still, uneven breaths becoming uniformed. You weren't asleep yet, but you were on the verge.

He scrunched his eyebrows, studying your soft features and smooth lips. Finally, just before you fell into the darkness, his hand brushed away the stray hairs from your face, tucking them behind your ear. You felt his gaze without seeing it, and to your surprise, he did something completely out of the ordinary.

He kissed your forehead—just a peck—and continued to lie next to you, holding back his touch even if he’s invaded every part of your body.

2:00 am became three. Three became six. Six became eight. You woke up next to him, warm in his distant yet comfortable embrace.

This was all you needed.

—

BONUS

—

“I didn't get any sleep last night,” Hongjoong groaned, looking between San and Wooyoung. He smirked, noticing them both look away from his authoritative expression.

“Yeah me neither, Someone was getting their shit rocked. For HOURS.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes.

“What can I say,” San clicked his tongue, baring that devilish smile of his. “Prepare for another night of no sleep because she’s in my bed right now.”

“She was in my bed the other day,” wooyoung shrugged, his lips in a frown.

“And mine last week,” Yunho cackled, unable to hold in the laughter as he saw San’s harsh glare. “I’m kidding. Kidding. Maybe.”

With one last look around his bandmates, he gave a knowing look around the dressing room.

“She won't be in anyone else’s room from now on.” He said, running a hand through his hair.

“She’s mine.”

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #choi san #choi san smut #choi san fanfic #oneshot #san smut #ateez wooyoung #idol au #fwb au #toxic

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