#i love body horror but good god i need to bleach my eyes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cinnaminsvga · 4 years

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Dumbo | Jungkook (M)

→ summary: you know what they say about boys with big noses...

{or alternatively: jungkook has a big dick but he doesn’t know how to use it, but luckily you’re there to help.}

→ genre: humor/crack, smut → warnings: they talk about dicks a lot (i.e. jungkook has a big dick), DICK MEASURING CONTESTS (aka jk gets his dick appraised... just boys bein’ boys), explicit sexual content, semi-public exhibitionism, handjobs, blowjobs, sub!jungkook, whining, light dirty talk, mild pain play, mutual masturbation, jungkook has piercings, accidental edging (you’ll... understand), oc doesn’t have a gag reflex lol → words: 17.2K → a/n: @jincherie... you are my enabler and i will die on this hill only if you die on it with me. but of course i know you will die with me. because we only have one braincell and if either of us die, we both do. thank you for commissioning me to write this btw... even though i was already writing this so you just basically sent me money for free. ANYWAY... WORLD IS FUCK BUT I LOVE RHA!! ALSO JUNGKOOK HAS A BIG DICK!! EPIC!!

The club lights make it difficult for Jungkook to see anything. He doesn’t understand why club owners can’t just jack up the lighting for once; it isn’t like you’re going to be able to find a hook-up through echolocation or something. Though, judging by the way people seem to be groping their way through the masses, perhaps there really is no need for illumination anyway.

Jungkook normally hates this kind of scene. Drinking is all good and fun, especially when he’s with his hyungs, but going to overly crowded places makes his skin crawl with anxiety. It takes almost three shots during pre-game for him to get anywhere near this kind of place and it’s all thanks to Seokjin. That hyung thrives in these kinds of environments, like a clipped butterfly relearning how to fly.

“I’m gonna get shit fucked wasted!” Seokjin hollers, his arm looped carelessly around the only other person who hates being here as much as Jungkook does. He watches passively as Yoongi tries to bite a chunk off of Seokjin’s hand, but despite his inebriation, their eldest hyung is able to dodge it quickly.

“Not before I kill you, then everyone else in this place, and then myself, first.” Yoongi growls, nudging Seokjin off his smaller frame. If the world hadn’t been swaying underneath Jungkook’s feet, he might have offered to help his small hyung do the deed. If there’s anyone who hates nightclubs more than Jungkook, it’s Yoongi. Jungkook is frightened to know how Seokjin managed to convince Yoongi in the first place, and he’d prefer not to find out what sort of terrible blackmail the elder must have under his sleeve to accomplish such an arduous feat.

Just as Yoongi is about to connect his steel-toed boot up Seokjin’s freshly bleached asshole, Jimin returns from the bar with three glasses held precariously in each of his fists. Jungkook wonders yet again how this is possible due to the sheer tininess of Jimin’s hands, but then again... What can’t Jimin do when it comes to alcohol?

“I’m back! Here you go, Jungkookie,” Jimin says, seamlessly handing Jungkook a glass of what he hopes is just a regular beer like he asked. Knowing Jimin, he probably ordered the strongest shit they have. He peers at it suspiciously, but it only takes half a sip for Jungkook to confirm his guess. He grimaces, nearly coughing out a lung at the strength of the poison running down his throat.

“That tasted like fucking metal polish! What the fuck, Jimin?”

“I know! It’s great isn’t it?” Jimin smiles angelically, handing Yoongi one of the drinks. Yoongi looks at the swirling piss-yellow liquid as if it holds the secrets to the universe. It appears as if he’s decided something when his eyes light up.

“Oh my god, this drink is gonna kill me,” he says, not an ounce of fear in his voice. Jimin nods, not even trying to hide his deception.

“I promised the bartender a blowie if he could give me the strongest shit they had,” Jimin shrugs. “Dude literally went to the back room and took out this bottle that looked like it came from Napoleon’s secret stash of hooker piss.” He sniffs the drinks thoughtfully. “Yea, I could believe that.”

“I hate this!” Jungkook cries at no one in particular.

“Tough shit! We’re in this together!” Yoongi groans, downing the entire contents of his drink in one go before promptly being swallowed whole by the crowd. Seokjin hoots, hastily waving goodbye to Jungkook and Jimin before following Yoongi and diving into the sweaty masses like a seasoned Olympian.

“I hope they don’t die like last time,” Jungkook sighs, forcing himself to take a big gulp of his drink. It sears against his throat like a brand, which probably has an inscription saying “Jeon Jungkook has bad taste in friends.”

Jimin shrugs his shoulders. “Well, like Namjoon said a while ago, we’re gonna meet by the bar in 2 hours to check if everyone is still alive and we’ll find out then. Okay, Kook?”

Jimin has reminded him of this for the umpteenth time, though he can’t blame him for being extra careful. Last time the whole gang went to the club, Hoseok had gotten stuck in an elevator at his hook-up’s place and had cried for 5 hours straight before one of them thought to look for him. The time before that, Taehyung had ingested two times his bodyweight of margaritas and he had found himself in Japan the next morning with an extra $500 in his pocket.

Yeah. They’re idiots, but at least they’re idiots who will try not to make the same mistakes as last time. Key word being “try.”

Jungkook looks around the club, but he can’t find any awkward looking lanky people anywhere. “Where is Namjoon-hyung, by the way? Haven’t seen him since we split up.”

“Who the hell knows?” Jimin laughs, the sound drowning out when the DJ suddenly decides to play a death metal version of Dance the Night Away by Twice. Jimin’s eyes light up. “Ooooh shit! This is my song! See ya later, Kook!”

“W-wait, those drinks! Aren’t they for the others––“

“Bitch, you think these are for them?” Jimin begins to double fist his alcohol with the thirstiness of a man in a desert, or a twink confronted with two dicks. Either or.

To Jungkook’s horror, the crowd has seemingly grown thrice in size since they’ve arrived and he watches as Jimin’s body is slowly getting consumed by the masses, though he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He leans into a random guy's back, a look of bliss on his face. He salutes lazily at Jungkook. “Anyway. See you in 2 hours, Kook! Try to have fun!”

Try to have fun, his ass.

Unlike Jimin, Jungkook doesn’t particularly feel like being crushed by sweaty hormonal bodies; instead, he chooses to head to the bar. He surreptitiously dumps his drink into the trash, feeling kind of bad for discarding a free drink, but Jungkook doesn’t want to get shit-fucked wasted like the rest of them are. Perhaps he’ll be the designated driver today, even though his vision is still kind of swimming. Well, he could probably walk in a straight line if he used all his brainpower. Which isn’t a lot, but you know. People learn to make do.

It takes him a while to find an empty stool by the bar and he is unlucky enough to be squished between two couples who don’t seem to be aware that public indecency is a crime. He has to endure being jostled for five minutes straight until the bartender finally notices him and allow him to order his can of coke.

(“Sorry, kid. The banana milk is all sold out. Some girl ordered our entire stock for her friends a few hours ago.” And just like that, Jungkook wants to die all over again.)

He does not know for how long he sits by the bar. Well, that’s a blatant lie, because he knows that he’s been sitting there for 18 minutes and 34 seconds exactly. He’s checked his phone religiously every 2 minutes to see if 2 hours have passed already, just so he can ask one of his stupid friends to go home with him. Perhaps he could coerce Jimin into turning in early for once (which is a pipedream, not when the DJ seems adamant to play Jimin’s favorite Christina Aguilera song 70 times in a row.)

So in short, Jungkook is miserable. He could go home by himself, but also he doesn’t want to end up having to walk to the police station the next morning to bail his friends out after one of them inevitably destroys public property again.

Fuck. Maybe he shouldn’t have thrown away his other drink.

He’s so deep in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice that one of the couples beside him have already left and that another person has taken their spot. He is jarred from his musings when a well-manicured hand is placed delicately on his shoulder, urging him to swivel the barstool around to face his soon-to-be acquaintance.

“Hey,” you say, a sultry smile on your lips. Jungkook feels his mouth immediately fill with cotton as he stares at your beautiful face, the dingy lighting of the club doing nothing to suppress the wicked glint in your eyes.

“Uhh… hey?” Jungkook replies, as charming and verbose as ever. If it isn’t obvious enough, Jungkook is a little lacking in the girls department, or at least, when it comes to girls-who-are-blatantly-flirting with him department. He normally isn’t this socially inept around the opposite gender, but given the connotations of this circumstance, his overactive male brain can only be restrained so much before it starts wandering towards dangerous territory.

It doesn’t help that the neckline of your dress is bordering on obscene, and Jungkook is afraid that if you move one more inch towards him, something very embarrassing might happen to the both of you (probably more so for him, if he’s being quite honest.)

“I couldn’t help but notice you from across the club and thought I should introduce myself,” you explain, gaze unashamedly trailing down his body. Jungkook can feel the heat from you radiating in waves, burning him from the inside out as he tries not to melt into a puddle in a pathetic attempt to get the fuck out of there.

“You saw me? But it’s… so dark in here…” Jungkook wants to fucking murder himself. That’s what he decides to say to you? God, no fucking wonder he’s a virgin. Good looks really aren’t everything when he doesn’t have a brain controlling the rest of his body. There might as well be a fucking hamster running laps inside of his skull for all he knew.

Thankfully (or unthankfully––God knows Jungkook’s stress levels aren’t lowering any time soon), you find his response funny enough to warrant a chuckle. You bat your eyes salaciously at him, which Jungkook didn’t even think was possible. People can be sexy? When they blink? Apparently, you can do that.

You shrug your shoulders. “That’s true. You caught me in a lie, I suppose. I actually knew you were coming even before you arrived.”

Jungkook chokes on his own spit then, nearly spraying you with his saliva like the dog that he is. His eyes bug out of his sockets, his body going tense with nerves. "You... you knew? What... What does that even mean?"

You point over your shoulder, gesturing vaguely at the crowd on the dance floor. "I'm friends with Seokjin over there. He mentioned you were coming with him to the club tonight so I decided to tag along."

"You know Seokjin-hyung?" The alarm bells in Jungkook's head start ringing wildly out of control. Nothing good ever comes out of being friends with Seokjin, especially since his presence alone has the power to make the creases in your brain to smoothen. Take it from someone who's been there, done that.

"Yep," you say, popping your 'p.' "I met him in my first-year English course, though I still don't know why a third-year like him was taking it in the first place."

"It's because he doesn't know how to read," Jungkook says plainly.

"I can tell. He uses voice-to-text exclusively and Siri can never spell Asian names correctly," you shrug your shoulders. "Either that, or he just doesn't know how to spell your name."

"Yea. I'm permanently John Jung Cock on his phone," Jungkook replies. He shakes his head. "Hold on, we were talking about something before this."

"Oh. About how I casually revealed to you that I was stalking you through our mutually insane friend?"

"Y-Yea, basically." Jungkook doesn't even understand what the fuck is happening right now. "I mean! Not exactly? Like, for all I know, you could've just asked hyung who he was coming with and he mentioned my name and––"

"Listen, kid. I straight up just told you I'm stalking you. Let's skip the foreplay and get to the meat of it: I'm literally following you," you say, without an inch of regret, embarrassment, or morality in your tone of voice.

Jungkook, who despite being filled with so much fear and tension enough to kill the small hamster inside his brain, is somehow able to keep his calm in front of the psychopath in front of him. Either that, or he's already in the middle of a stroke and he's lost all his fine motor skills.

"I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything, baby," you murmur, leaning even closer to him until your chest was practically pressed against his. The thin layer of your dress and his well-worn cotton tee does nothing to help the situation (both in general and the one in his pants). He can feel your every curve, can smell the sweet perfume you're wearing; you were enveloping his senses. If he tried hard enough, he could probably count your eyelashes if he so desired with how close you were.

He knows he should probably be running away in terror right now, but he finds himself stuck resolutely to the barstool, unable to move. Maybe Jimin was right... Maybe he did have a fear kink or something.

("Isn't that just called masochism?" Jungkook asks, brows raised.

Jimin only laughs, patting him on the back condescendingly. "Nah, dude. You just straight up wanna die by the hands of a hot person, and I can respect that homie. We all have been there.")

“W-what do you want from me?” Jungkook asks, sweat lining his brow. You’re still looking at him like he was a meal, but he finds he probably doesn’t mind being devoured by you.

Your wicked grin returns, full force. “I just want to play, Jungkook. But why don’t we discuss this… somewhere more private?”

Thunk. Was that the sound of his heart dropping out of his ass, or his brain pressing against the left side of his skull, or his dick hitting the roof? Jungkook isn’t sure, but he does know he wants to see where this night will take him.

He lets you lead the way, squeezing through sweaty bodies and elbowing a stray hand or two. Jungkook swears he feels a guy grope him on the way out, but before he can even sock the guy in the jaw, you’re already one step ahead of him. You hiss menacingly at the dudebro, raising your long acrylic nails in a show of dominance like you’re from some wildlife documentary. The guy audibly whines, running away from the two of you with his tail between his legs.

Jungkook stares at you incredulously. “How the fuck did you––”

“I’ve gone to tango classes with that dude. I have his mom’s phone number,” you explain nonchalantly. Instantly, Jungkook feels himself hardening in his pants.

You manage to get to where the washroom stalls are. You brazenly walk past the line of girls at the women’s section, but Jungkook is even more confused when you also pass by the men’s section. You turn the corner, where a bunch of tables and chairs were being kept. Then, you begin to knock down some of the extra chairs stacked against the wall, which is where Jungkook discovers there is an unused wheelchair accessible washroom.

“Why is this washroom being kept hidden?” he wonders aloud, sneaking guilty looks over his shoulder. No one seems to have noticed that the two of you are blatantly trespassing property, but you don’t look all that stressed about it.

You look at him weirdly. “Dude. You can barely walk in this club without getting groped, poked, or doped. As much as I’m all for accessibility, I don’t think wheelchair-bound people are gonna have much of a good time here.”

Jungkook feels as though he should be saying something profound about the need for establishments to be accessible or something, but the strain in his pants really wasn’t doing many wonders on his verbosity right now. Maybe next time.

You make quick work of the barricade and you get the door open in no time. You push him hastily inside, making him yelp as he tries to find his way around the darkened room. You flip the switch on somewhere behind him, illuminating the washroom to find… a toilet. That’s it.

“Well, they certainly didn’t think about interior decorating,” Jungkook says, laughing nervously as you click the door locked. He turns, watching as you pull the black elastic that was on your wrist and begin to tie your hair. You smile cheekily at him, the implications of what is about to happen very much apparent.

“Nah, they didn’t. But the room gets the job done and that’s all we want, don’t we?” You purr, taking the two short steps you need to get close to him once more. You trail a well-manicured nail down his chest, circling around his nipple teasingly but not doing anything more. His breathing turns more shallow, and he knows for sure that his eyes must look crazed to you right now.

You bring your finger lower and lower, grazing the top of his belt buckle and staying there. You look up at him, licking your lips as your gaze trails down to his own. Once again, he feels paralyzed as you take him in and he wishes for all the horny gods from above that you would finally end the torture and finally close the distance.

Taking some pity on him, you rest your lips against his throat, suckling gently enough that Jungkook knows it won’t leave a mark. His hands instantly come up to grab your waist, as if urging you to go harder, to make it hurt.

You smirk against his skin, deciding at that moment to bite down, hard. Jungkook yelps, before the sound morphs into an unabashed moan. His cheeks pinken, embarrassed at the volume of his voice.

“I-I…”

“Don’t worry, Jungkook…” you whisper, soothing the bite with your tongue. You pop off his skin, your lips slightly redder than before. “I’ll take good care of you, darling.”

See, Jungkook doesn’t doubt you in the slightest. As for his own skills at taking care of you when the time comes… now that’s a little bit of a gamble.

Jungkook isn’t a virgin, per se… He lost his virginity during his last year of high school to some girl he met at a party, and suffice to say, he didn’t last long. He’s had a few girlfriends in the past, but none of them ever wanted to get with him once they saw his dick. You see, he had a bit of a problem…

He wasn’t small, by the way. Don’t get him wrong. In fact, he was kinda––

Jungkook is pulled away from his thoughts when you suddenly drop down to your knees, your hands grabbing onto his thighs for support. He’s almost worried that you’d injured yourself from how fast you’d dropped, but you don’t seem all that bothered by how deftly your fingers moved to unbuckle his belt.

When you get it loosened, your hands stop by the button of his jeans and you look up at him with expectation. Jungkook almost whines when your hands drift back to your lap.

You snort, amused. “What? You think I’m gonna do all the work here, buddy? Come on, strip for me.” you say, sitting on your haunches as you wait for him to move.

The strain in his pants was getting downright painful at this point, so Jungkook is more than eager to follow your orders. Still, his hands are shaking the entire time, so it takes him a few extra seconds before he can finally unbutton his stupid jeans and pull down his stupid zipper. Even through his loose boxers, the outline of his dick is very apparent, with a small wet spot already staining the front of his boxers a darker blue.

“Uh, I have to say a disclaimer first though,” Jungkook squeaks, suddenly shy under the intense gaze you were pointing straight at his dick. It twitches slightly, and your eyes follow it like a cat ready to pounce. “I’m… kinda on the bigger side, so I just want to ask if you’re sure––”

“Baby, I was sure even before I came to this club,” you say, trance-like. Your fists clench and unclench by your sides. “Now, shut up before I change my mind.”

“But––” Jungkook doesn’t get to finish his sentence, stunned to silence when you quite literally rip his boxers off of him like a magician trying to prove something. His dick springs up half-way, still not fully hard as it’s always taken him a little bit more goading before he can get to full mast. Yea, he was that big.

You stare at it for a moment, going cross-eyed as you stared at his tip head-on like some sort of perverse gun barrel. You don’t move for so long that Jungkook is afraid that he might have freaked you out with the size of his cock, though you wouldn’t be the first in a long shot. He’s about to apologize, prepared to pull up his pants in shame and walk home with half a log in his crotch. He’s already shifting his jeans back up when you place a hand on his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

“Wait. Are you, like, only half-hard right now?” you ask, voice quiet.

Jungkook flushes. “Y-yeah… It gets a little bit bigger when I’m fully… You know…” he says, trailing off.

You’re still looking at his dick, but after further assessment, Jungkook realizes that you don’t look horrified in the slightest. In fact, you look pleased. “Jesus fuck you’re huge! Like… almost abnormally so.”

Jungkook literally feels like he’s going to die (and he hates that it’s kinda making him even hornier). “I guess so?”

“That’s a fucking log! You could stand on that thing!”

“I don’t think that’s possible, but––”

“Seokjin had told me you were huge, but I didn’t believe him because, well, the way he described it was that you had a literal third leg hiding under there. Who would have thought that Seokjin isn’t full of shit after all,” you say, awestruck.

“I’m really not that big––wait, Seokjin has talked to you about my dick? What the fuck? Since WHEN?” Seokjin was just out there in the world? Telling strangers about his dick? That hyung is seriously getting smashed WWE style the next time he sees him, and it’s NOT going to be sexy.

You wave him off. “Oh, don’t worry. He doesn’t just tell anyone. He let it slip because he was defending your honor,” you shrug.

In the midst of Jungkook’s mental breakdown at the realization that one of his closest friends just told a random girl that he’s got a meter long King Kong dong, he doesn’t notice that you’ve already stood up from where you were kneeling. You pull down the toilet seat cover, seating yourself on it and rubbing your reddened knees with a pout. “Ouch. Damn, I’m not used to kneeling for men anymore. Sorry, where was I? Oh right!”

You snap your fingers together, smiling gleefully at Jungkook. “So! I dragged you in here to give you my proposition, you see. I have a deal to make with you.”

Jungkook looks down at his cock, which was still red and dripping pre-cum, before turning back to you. “And this has something to do with… my dick?”

“Precisely!” you cheer, glad that he seems to be on the same page as you when he was in fact, not. “Sorry about tricking you, by the way. I’ll suck your dick after this if you’re still game, but only if you agree with my plan.”

“Your plan?”

“Yep,” you say, popping your ‘p’ once more. “You see, I have an ex-boyfriend. His name is Lee Taeyong, ever heard of him?”

Jungkook vaguely knows the upperclassman, though he can’t say he’s ever spoken to him. “Kinda. What does he have to do with me?”

“Well, if you really heard of him, then you’d already be one step ahead. Seeing as how it’s not already connecting for you––” you point to his dick, poking the sensitive head with the grace of a 5-year old at a petting zoo, “––then you don’t know that Lee Taeyong has the biggest dick on campus. Allegedly.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook repeats. He still doesn’t follow.

“Well, I wouldn’t know either because I’ve never seen his dick, so––”

“Wait wait wait. Wait.” Jungkook’s hamster brain is running a mile a minute. There have been way too many absurdities spoken in the last five minutes and he doesn’t think he’s drunk enough to deal with your insanity right now. “Let’s dissect this one at a time, shall we? First of all, how can you not know how big your boyfriend’s dick is?”

“My ex-boyfriend. And we only dated for like three days, and I don’t fuck until a week has passed, okay? I don’t play like that,” you say as if you didn’t just lure Jungkook to this dingy washroom only to give him blue balls and trauma.

“Okay, whatever. So what if he has a big dick? What does that have to do with me?”

You roll your eyes. “How can you not understand yet? I’m on the hunt for our university’s biggest dick, of course! And you, Jungkook, might just be my ticket to the number one prize.”

There is a long pause. Jungkook stares and stares at you, waiting for you to shout “Surprise! You’re being pranked, bro!” and for all the cameramen to come out and shower him in confetti and dollar bills or something. But no, nothing like that happened. He just continues to stand there with his dick out, while you sit on a dingy toilet seat with your legs crossed comfortably as if you were just two friends having a regular conversation.

After a while, Jungkook comes to a conclusion. “You’re being serious.”

You snort, annoyed as if you were the one being inconvenienced. “Of course I am, dude. I don’t stalk just about anybody to see their dick. I’m not that insane.”

Jungkook feels as though your judgment on sanity should probably be taken with a grain of salt. “S-sure. Right. You’re definitely not insane.”

“And you have a big dick! I’m glad you can see where I’m coming from,” you say, nodding sagely. You peer at his dick once more, brows furrowed as you think deeply to yourself. “Hmm… Yea, I’d say you’d be at least equally as big as him. If all else fails, I can split the winnings and get half the amount of money if you––”

“No,” Jungkook says.

You raise your brow. “Yes?” you try.

“Yes–I mean, what? No!” Jungkook repeats, shaking his head furiously. "Are you even hearing yourself? You expect me to get into a dick measuring contest with your ex just so you can, what? Get revenge on him or something?"

"Not for revenge." You lean closer to him, face inches away from his dick but you don't seem perturbed in the slightest. "It's for money," you whisper, grinning slyly.

"Money," Jungkook repeats.

You clap your hands excitedly. "Exactly! So Taeyong and I didn't actually break up on bad terms. We only got together to make Doyoung, his crush, jealous enough to confess his feelings. But now, that dumb bitch thinks that now that he's with Taeyong, he can make fun of me for not being able to handle Taeyong's dark horse cock––"

"Can you please stop talking like an insane person," Jungkook pleads. His comment remains unheard.

"––so we made a bet that Taeyong doesn't actually have the biggest dick on campus and that I'm dating a guy with an even bigger meat thermometer than he does," you finish, snapping your fingers with a flourish. There's a twinkle in your eye: it's misplaced excitement coupled with extreme insanity, Jungkook realizes.

"That's good and all, but there's just one problem."

"What?" You tilt your head, confused.

"We're not exactly dating, are we?"

"Details, details... What Doyoung and Taeyong don't know won't hurt them," you say, shrugging your shoulders.

Jungkook rolls his eyes. "Of course," he says, leaning against the grimy bathroom wall. He goes to tuck Jungkook Jr. back into his pants, his dick finally softening after the last ten minutes of psychological torture courtesy of yours truly, but you're quick to slap his hand away, making him yelp in surprise.

"No! I like looking at it," you say. You stare at his dick with rapt fascination. "It's kinda like looking at a weird, deformed baby leg. Beautiful, but haunting all at once."

Jungkook huffs, staring at you in equal parts disbelief and awe. If he thought Seokjin was mentally unhinged, then you're definitely on your way towards uncharted psychotic territory. It was kind of amazing how you could just say shit without any brain to mouth filter, in your own twisted way. "Listen, lady. I don't even fucking know what your name is, but I am not helping you win some stupid bet and showing my dick to even more strangers than I have to, okay?"

You consider him, lips pursing slightly. "Why, do you have any other plans this weekend?"

Jungkook falters. "I... No, I don't––"

You shrug your shoulders, as if that's the end of that problem. "Then it's settled! I don't see why you can't just do this out of the goodness of your heart?"

"For the last time, I won't do it even if––"

"I'll split the prize with you? 50/50? That's $1000 for having a huge dick! Every incel's wet dream!"

Jungkook pauses in his rant, choking on his spit. His jaw drops comically, unsure if he heard you right. "Did you say one... grand?"

Hook, line, and sinker. You know you caught him the moment his eyes bugged out of their sockets. You smirk, crossing your arms triumphantly as you gaze upon his desperate and broke college ass (and dick). “So? Having second thoughts?"

Jungkook is quiet for a moment. He opens his mouth, then closes it. He tries to wrap his head around the number, unsure if he should be worried about how ready he is to drop his pants for money. Have I completely lost it? Am I that much of an idiot? he wonders, but then again… He’d be an even bigger idiot for letting free money go down the drain.

“Where is this money even coming from?” he asks, even though he knows his guard is already dropping quickly.

You wave your hand flippantly. “Oh, Doyoung is filthy rich. I imagine that $2000 is nothing to him,” you say, picking at a hangnail. “It’s not much money to me either, but my pride is mostly at stake here. If you want, you could take all the money as a prize, so long as you make that bitch eat his heart out.”

Jungkook feels his dick twitch and he knows that you notice. “Two… thousand…” He accidentally moans, gripping his thighs to prevent himself from nutting. “That’s…”

You tilt your head, arching a brow. “Not enough? I could put in an extra $500 if you’re really against this whole thing. To be fair, I wouldn’t wanna expose my coochie to a random person either––”

“Two thousand five hundred? Are you fucking insane?” Jungkook exclaims, voice cracking at the end. He clears his throat, but it still feels like his lungs are on fire.

“Okay, three grand it is but I’m not going any higher than that,” you huff, shaking your head. “Mr. Jeon, you really do drive a hard bargain, though I always notice that well-endowed men tend to think they deserve the universe, so I’m not surprised.” You chuckle to yourself, as if anything about this situation is worth laughing at. Jungkook feels like that one time he had inhaled an entire helium balloon in one breath when he was younger: kinda nauseous but also kinda euphoric. Is it bad that his dick is stirring awake right now? Hello?

You put your hand out, looking at him expectantly. “Well? Do we have a deal or not?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath and accesses his options carefully. Does he:

Give up his low self-esteem for money and enter an actual dick-measuring contest with some stranger;

There is no other option. Jungkook wants money.

He exhales, a migraine already throbbing incessantly in the back of his skull. He thrusts his hand forward, gripping yours harshly in a firm handshake. “I’m in,” he says, without missing a beat. Your smile brings a shiver down his back, and he can’t help but wonder if this is what Judas felt like when he betrayed Jesus, except he’s betraying no one but his own self-worth.

Well, he always did wonder how much his life was worth and three grand doesn’t seem like that big of a stretch. Oh well.

“Nice,” you chuckle, seemingly vibrating from excitement. You slip behind him, grabbing his phone from the back pocket of his jeans (which were still, by the way, pooled around his thighs because his dick was still out. Just to remind you guys in case you forgot. OP doesn’t want you to ever forget about it.) You flick open his phone, cackling maniacally when you realize he doesn’t even have a password on.

Jungkook squawks. “Hey, what are you––”

“I’m saving my number on your phone,” you explain. He can barely see what you were typing into his phone contacts, but he doesn’t miss the way you attach a heart emoji beside your name. You open his texts, sending yourself an octopus emoji that just so happened to be Jungkook’s most frequently used emoji. You snort. “Octopus emoji, huh? Seems appropriate… Can’t help but think it was a sign that this might have been destiny.”

“I just like takoyaki…” Jungkook defends himself sulkily.

“Yea? Well I like cock,” you say. You pause, furrowing your brows. “Oh, I meant to say chicken. Same thing.”

You hand back his phone, grabbing your small purse that you had thrown aside onto the washroom floor. You straighten your dress, looking to all the world as if you hadn’t just offered a stranger three grand to show his dick. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Jungkook. I expect to see you soon, maybe this weekend if you’re free. I’ll text you the details of when we’ll meet next. Toodles!” you wave, sending him a flying kiss for extra measure. Jungkook’s eye twitches, and he wonders not for the first time tonight if he was trapped in a coma and was slowly passing away.

Just as you are about to head out the door, you stop in your tracks, turning back to face him. You give him a curious expression, gaze dragging downwards until you were staring down the barrel of his dick once more. “Hey, sorry about leaving you hanging like that, by the way. I would love to help you finish, but I have a ride to catch. Raincheck?”

Not waiting for an answer, you saunter away with a spring in your step. The door swings back closed, leaving Jungkook alone for the first time in what feels like forever: just him, his dick, and the promise of three thousand dollars on the horizon.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” Jungkook groans, sliding down to the floor. He fists his cock in his hand, groaning loudly when he feels the pleasure jolt up his spine like electricity. As he listens to the sounds of his heavy breathing and the slick mess in his hands, he can’t help but wonder if Jimin was right… Maybe he did have a thing for insane hot girls who were out to kill him.

x x x x x

After Jungkook cleans himself up, he marches out of the washroom with as much dignity as he can muster. Which is to say that he walked out of there with his head bowed in shame, meekly navigating the crowded club in search of his friends.

It isn’t hard, considering that Jimin was currently hanging on the fucking ceiling from a disco ball. A group of men stand at the bottom, all of them eagerly eyeing his fat ass as Jimin dangerously humped the shiny ball of metal like his life depended on it.

“Okaaaay guys! The moment this disco ball drops, whoever catches me first gets to fuck me tonight so try your best to grab me~!” Jimin singsongs from his perch, howling madly as all the horny motherfuckers scramble all over each other, desperate to catch him lest he meets his maker.

“I. Hate. My. Life.” Jungkook sighs, striding past the group of men easily with his superior upper body strength. “Move, incels. This twink isn’t letting any of you simps touch his ass. He just likes the attention.”

“Aww, Jungkookie! Don’t ruin my fun~! Unless you wanna catch me and we can finally fu––” Jimin screams mid-sentence, just as the cord holding him and the disco ball snaps. All the guys step over themselves to catch him, but Jungkook is stronger and faster. He catches Jimin mid-air, snatching him in an instant and hoisting him over his shoulder. Everyone cheers and hollers, clapping for him as Jimin continues to giggle hysterically into his back.

“Yay! Jungkookie is gonna fuck meeeee,” Jimin pats him on the ass, but Jungkook ignores him. He goes around the club, searching for the rest of his friends until he has five dangling bodies hanging off his body like some six-headed freak.

Well, it’s soon going to be five-headed after he beheads Seokjin, whom Jungkook is certain just vomited all over the back of his jeans.

“I can’t fucking find Yoongi-hyung.” Jungkook grits his teeth, his nose assaulted by the stench of Namjoon’s armpit as the elder contorts himself into a more comfortable position. “Stop fucking moving, you long-legged bastard. Why’d you have to be born with such good body proportions?”

“And why are you so hot, Jungkook?” Taehyung swoons from somewhere underneath Hoseok, who seems to be either passed out or dead; Jungkook didn’t pause to check for a pulse.

“Pretty sure Yoongi went home,” Seokjin slurs, a second wave of nausea hitting him as he struggles to keep the alcohol inside of him a bit longer. “Ugh… Said he saw his roommate and they went home together.”

“God, it better be his fucking roommate and not another person trying to sell his organs again.” Jungkook sighs. “Either way, we’re all going home. We’ve done enough damage for tonight.”

“Jungkookie, did you have any fun at all tonight? Didn’t see you around,” Namjoon quips, managing to wriggle out of Jungkook’s grip and fall face flat on the curb. He whines pathetically, not making a move to stand up again. “Ugh. I didn’t even drink a lot tonight so why...?”

“It’s because you’re Namjoon,” Jungkook supplies helpfully. He lets the rest of his friends down, making sure they are leaning against the wall for support (or sitting against the wall in Hoseok’s case). “Alright, I’m calling cabs. Seokjin-hyung, I’m staying over at your place tonight.”

Jimin, who was already slowly falling asleep where he stands, perks up in attention at that. “Wait, you’re coming home with me and Seokjin? Are we reaaaally gonna fuck?” Jimin tries to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively, but to Jungkook, it just looks like he’s having a stroke.

“I’m done nutting for tonight. We are sleeping once we get home and that’s it,” Jungkook snorts, crossing his arms.

“OOOOOOOH? JUNGKOOK GOT FUCKED AT THE CLUB!”

“GET IT BOY!”

“OH SHIT HE FINALLY USED HIS PURPLE-HEADED YOGURT FINGER!”

“DAMN DUDE? DAMN? DAMN?”

“AW, YOU FUCKED SOMEONE WITHOUT ME?”

Jungkook swears he had heard Hoseok speak amidst the yelling from his friends, but his hyung still remains mysteriously hunched over and dead to the world. “None of your businesses. Anyway, a cab is coming soon and I swear to God, if any of you piss or vomit in that poor man’s vehicle, I will make sure none of you live to see the light of day, okay?”

Jimin turns to Taehyung, who just happened to be beside him. “Not gonna lie, but I kinda jizzed in my pants just now. That was kinda hot.” Taehyung only nods in agreement.

An hour and thirty minutes later, Jungkook manages to get the last of his idiot friends home, leaving only him, Seokjin, and Jimin as they tiredly trudge up the steps to the apartment. It takes an additional twenty minutes for Seokjin to figure out where he’d left his keys, only for Jimin to raise his finger for them to wait as he hid behind some bushes while unbuckling his jeans. When he comes out of the bushes, pantless, he has a key raised with a victorious smirk on his face.

“Don’t ask where I keep this,” is all he says and Jungkook is glad that he had rejected Seokjin’s offer to permanently move in as their roommate.

They all stumble into the apartment, with Seokjin falling immediately onto the couch. He curls up into a little ball, snoring the moment his eyes shut. Jungkook wants to shake him awake, eager to interrogate him about what happened between you and him just a few hours ago at the club. Even if he wanted to wake him up, Jungkook is sure nothing can rouse the elder; this fact is confirmed when Jungkook dumps water on him, only for Seokjin to keep sleeping soundly like a baby.

“Well, hyung is dead. Guess it’s time for me to die too,” Jimin says sleepily, the horniness and insanity from the club already wearing off. He pats Jungkook gently on the head, pointing towards Seokjin’s room. “Sleep there. I’ll hand you an extra blanket because I wouldn’t trust that hyung’s sheets. Let’s sleep, yeah?”

Left with no other choice, Jungkook heads to Seokjin’s bedroom, jumping onto the unmade sheets and pretending not to notice the crusty unknown substance on the corner of the bed. He can’t fall asleep, not when he’s left haunted by the weight on his chest (and dick). Jungkook fiddles with his phone, staring wide-eyed at the name displayed tauntingly on his screen.

Y/N L/N.

He was gonna have a nightmare tonight, that’s for sure.

x x x x x

Jungkook wakes up early, much to his chagrin. He’d really like to stay dead to the world for much longer, but the smell of coffee brewing and bacon cooking is kind of a hard deal to pass up. Jungkook shifts in bed, cringing when he realizes he went to sleep in his jeans, and more importantly, that his pants felt a lot stickier than he remembered.

He lifts the blanket up, confirming his suspicions. “Fuck!”

Well, guess he didn’t have much of a nightmare last night after all.

He shucks off his clothes, disgusted by the mess he finds in his underwear. He hobbles over to Seokjin’s closet, cringing when he finds only one (1) clean pair of shorts left, which just so happened to have “PEE IS STORED IN THE BALLS” stamped on the back in cursive font. Beggars can’t be choosers, he supposes.

Jungkook tiptoes out of the bedroom, confronted with the sight of Jimin pouring three mugs of coffee and Seokjin still slumped over the couch, a substantial amount of drool dripping down from the side of his mouth and forming a puddle on the floor. Jungkook takes a photo, saving it for later.

“Morning,” Jimin smiles from the kitchen, offering Jungkook one of the cups. Jungkook is certain that Jimin has no recollection of the events from last night, though such is Park Jimin’s way of life. He drinks to get fucked up, then he forgets, and then the cycle repeats itself anew. Jungkook wonders how Jimin always manages to wake up without a hangover, though God might have just given him a super liver in compensation for his lack of height.

“Hyung is still dead,” Jungkook states plainly, walking over to Seokjin and peering at him closely. Jungkook sticks a finger into his agape mouth, collects some of his spit, and then proceeds to give him the wettest willy of his life. Still no response.

“Let me try,” Jimin says, sauntering over to Seokjin with one of the cups of coffee. Jimin leans down, hums gently into his ear. “Hyung, wake up. We have coffee for you!”

Seokjin mumbles incomprehensibly in his sleep, snuggling deeper into the couch stuffing. Jimin tilts his head, still smiling. Then, he dumps the scalding cup of coffee all over Seokjin’s crotch.

In an instant, Seokjin screams with the pitch of a banshee, swinging his arms wildly about and nearly knocking himself out with his own fist. Jungkook and Jimin watch passively from the sidelines, waiting for the elder to finish fanning his nutsack before greeting him a pleasant morning.

“WHY ARE YOU BOTH LITERAL DEMONS?” Seokjin hollers, jumping to his feet with his scorched balls and all. Taking pity on him, Jungkook walks over to the fridge, tossing his hyung a bag of ice. And by toss, it’s more like he pitches the bag straight into his dick with the ease and speed of a seasoned baseball player, eliciting another round of pained howls.

“YOU––ASS––” Seokjin seethes, clutching the bag of ice to his nether regions. He sits down on the adjacent loveseat, expression contorting as he cups his balls gingerly. “God, it’s almost like you guys don’t think I deserve basic human decency.”

“That was just a small part of my revenge for you, after you gave my contact details to an insane woman,” Jungkook sneers, miming a punch onto Seokjin’s handsome face. Seokjin doesn’t even flinch, too busy staring at Jungkook’s legs.

“Hey, are you wearing my thot shorts?”

Jungkook looks down at the neon pink monstrosity around his hips. “You call these your thot shorts?”

Seokjin shrugs. “I got dicked down in them once. You should try.”

“Oh, did I hear something about revenge? I smell tea in here,” Jimin says, coming back from the kitchen with his own cup. “Well, I have coffee but same shit. What happened?”

“This––” Jungkook points an accusatory finger at Seokjin, “––asshole sent my location information to an insane stalker lady last night after he told her that I had a huge dick!”

Seokjin squints at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Y/N! She said you told her about how big my dick was and when she asked you where I was, you told her I was going to the club with you last night!”

“Oh.” Realization dawns on Seokjin’s face, which was quickly replaced by incredulity as he stares at Jungkook. “I assumed she asked for your contact details because she had a crush on you. I was just trying to get you some pussy, bro.”

“Yeah, Kook. Not gonna lie, but I’d be dicking down girls left and right if I had a dick as big as yours,” Jimin says, eyeing the bulge in his teeny tiny shorts with interest. “In fact, I’d probably be a top if I had a dick as big as yours.”

Seokjin laughs, nearly shooting out phlegm from the strength of it. “Oh god, don’t tell me. You couldn’t get your dick hard again? Don’t worry bro, if I had a dick as big as yours, it’d take ages for it to fill up too.”

Jungkook flushes, stomping his foot in embarrassment. “That! Wasn’t the problem! The problem is––”

“––that Jungkook nuts too quickly because he doesn’t have any practice,” Jimin tuts sadly, patting the younger with a pitiful expression. “Don’t worry, Kook. Hyung is open to giving you some pointers.”

“That’s not it either!” Jungkook screams, groaning in annoyance. “She came up to me because she offered to pay me $3000 to enter a dick-measuring contest!”

Jimin and Seokjin tilt their heads in tandem, still not getting it. “So?” they both chorus, giving him a blank-eyed stare.

“Are you guys out of your mind? I got bribed into showing my dick to some strangers like some kind of weird prostitute!”

“It’s not prostitution if you’re not engaging in sexual activity,” Jimin muses, taking a long sip from his coffee. He shrugs his shoulders. “Honestly, I don’t see how this is a problem. You show some girls your dick, and you get money. Dudes would kill to be in your position.”

“Oh my God, don’t tell me,” Seokjin leers at Jungkook, and the younger almost can’t stop himself from landing another blow against the elder’s abused crotch. “You got roped into some bukkake orgy and now you’re asking your hyungs to help you? Don’t worry, Jungoo… You came to the right people. You see, Jimin and I have some experience with––”

“LALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” Jungkook jams his fingers into his own ears, screaming hysterically to drown out the sounds of Seokjin and Jimin’s combined laughter. Jungkook pouts at them, glowering pathetically. “Seriously, hyungs! Do you not see how fucked up this is? Who follows a stranger to a club, pretends they’re going to give you a blowjob, only to offer 3K for you to show some strangers your dick?”

“A regular Friday night if you ask me,” Jimin says, shrugging once more. Jungkook stares at him, realizing that maybe it was the wrong idea being friends with these two lunatics in the first place. Knowing Jimin, he’d probably been in much more lewd and compromising situations than Jungkook will ever have. Rumor has it that Jimin had once done a keg stand while having his dick sucked while on vacation in Japan.

“Well, if you were really against it, then you could have just said no?” Seokjin points out, wagging a finger at him. “I know Y/N, and yeah she’s kind of demented, but she still knows that no means no. Surely, you haven’t considered the fact that you are 1) a pushover and 2) horny for her?”

“Well, yea––No, what––No!” Jungkook splutters, stammering wildly. His two hyungs grin salaciously, gazing at him knowingly. Jungkook can only groan, as he knows that they kind of have a point. He’s always been too weak for girls and money, so when you put those two things together…

“I might be addicted to the BBC tag on Pornhub, but you my friend… You’re in it for the BBCC,” Jimin snickers, patting Jungkook comfortingly on the back. Jungkook groans into his hands, slumping onto the loveseat beside Seokjin, whose icepack had long since melted and caused the seat to be uncomfortably damp.

“BBCC? I’m almost too afraid to ask.”

“Big black credit card,” Seokjin pipes up, wrapping his own arm around Jungkook’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, bud. We all have been there.”

That’s the problem: somehow, Jungkook finds himself much too ready to accept his fate, eagerly awaiting when you’ll text him next.

x x x x x

After a much-needed shower at Jimin and Seokjin’s place, Jungkook tiredly makes his way to the nearby bus stop, ready to go home and sleep the entire weekend away. Screw his Biochemistry midterm on Monday––if he really is going to whore himself out to you, then he’s going to need all the self-care and therapy that he can get. His phone itches in the pocket of his shorts (yes, he’s still wearing the thot shorts), and he wonders if he should text his therapist and ask for an extra appointment later in the day.

Just as he’s about to pull out his phone, he senses it vibrate once, twice. He freezes in his steps, walking out of the way of busy pedestrians on the sidewalk and into a random clothing store. He sees the lone cashier staring at him from the corner of his eye, but he does not check if her gaze is filled with disgust or disgust. Probably disgust, he surmises.

Flicking his phone on, he sees two new messages from you and his heart immediately starts to hammer in his chest. No one has ever made Jungkook equal parts scared and excited, though he imagines you might have that effect on most people, what with how you look like the type to tie up unsuspecting victims to harvest their organs in your summer cottage up in the mountains or something. Or maybe that’s just Jungkook projecting.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ hey! sorry for taking so long to text you. my roommate tried to make cheesecake at 3am last night and i had to supervise in case he burned down the apartment.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ anyway, i was wondering if you were free later? some time after 5 maybe? let me know!

You already want to meet so soon. Jungkook exhales heavily through his nostrils, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm himself. Alright, this is fine. Jungkook is a big boy: he can handle going to a girl’s home without losing his mind. You didn’t say anything about this being the actual dick-measuring contest yet, so he can only assume this is just you asking for something else. Maybe to talk more? Maybe he’ll get a down payment for the prize money? Maybe you’ll follow through on your raincheck? God, is it wrong for him to have his dick plumping up in his shorts when you haven’t even done anything to him yet?

(On the contrary, you could say that you have done a lot for him over the past twenty four hours, though maybe not in the way most people would expect.)

from: jjk yeah i can meet you at 5. what’s this for?

from: y/n l/n ❣️ oh, nothing! i just wanted to talk to you about the actual competition and stuff. plus, i want to actually measure your dick, just so i can see how much you’re actually packing down there ;)

from: jjk ….yeah, fine. whatever.

(This really isn’t a “whatever” type of situation, but honestly, Jungkook doesn’t really know what to say anymore. He’s officially lost his singular brain wrinkle. He’s smooth brain McGee over here.)

You follow up by sharing your location with him, and he’s surprised to find that you aren’t that far away from where Jungkook was right now. He really did mean to go back to his apartment first and get changed into something more… morally acceptable, but since he hasn’t been arrested yet for public decency, he should be okay with going to your place in Seokjin’s thot shorts.

There’s something invigorating about going to your place, dressed the way he is… Maybe the shorts are somehow giving him brain hemorrhage by indirect association with Seokjin. Either that or Jungkook simply loves torturing himself by embarrassing himself constantly. Well, at least he showered and combed his hair before leaving his hyungs’ place.

He inputs your address into his phone map, taking his sweet time as he walks the short distance to your apartment. As he passes by the buildings and street corners, he can’t help but think that he might have been around this area before. He tries to rack his brain, forcing himself to remember why this route seems so familiar.

“Oh right. Yoongi-hyung’s new apartment should be around here,” he muses to himself. He wonders if his hyung had gotten home safely last night. He should probably text him to make sure, but he’s got a literal dick appointment to attend to first, so he’ll remember to check up on Yoongi once he finishes up with you.

Does that make him a shitty friend? Probably. But would Yoongi do the same if Jungkook was in his shoes? Probably.

Yeah, Jungkook and his group of friends aren’t exactly role models for a sensitive and loving relationship, though that’s not much of a surprise to anyone.

He arrives at a decent looking apartment complex, complete with its own little water fountain at the entrance. He walks through the automatic sliding doors, peers at the shiny caution tape barring him from using the elevator. He stares at your address on his phone, groaning loudly when he sees “1603” much to his annoyance.

“No wonder she had such great thighs,” Jungkook mutters angrily to himself, preparing himself for the long and arduous journey his glutes are going to endure.

Years later, Jungkook finds himself at your door, his lungs jumping out of his throat as he struggles to catch his breath. He hunches over, elbows digging into his thighs as he wipes the sweat trailing down his neck. He can see your door just near the end of the hall, but just as he’s about to crawl his way over––

“Oh. Oh my,” a familiar voice says from behind him, and Jungkook looks over his shoulder to see…

“Yoongi-hyung?” Jungkook exclaims incredulously, mouth gaping at the sight of his thought-to-be-dead hyung coming out of the elevator. He splutters for a few more moments before pointing an accusing finger at Yoongi. “You used the elevator?”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, turning to look at the elevator with a thoughtful look. “Oh right. The elevator works. The maintenance people just forgot to remove the safety tape from last week.” Yoongi looks back at Jungkook, gaze lowering to his legs. “I see that Seokjin has provided you with his thot shorts.”

Jungkook doesn’t even try to cover himself, used to his friends seeing him in varying degrees of undress. Like, what was Yoongi going to do? Take a photo of him and post it to his Twitter for his thousands of followers to see? He wasn’t that cruel...

Snap! Yoongi pockets his phone quickly, clearing his throat. “So,” Yoongi walks up closer to him, peering at Jungkook curiously. “What brings you to my apartment? Not that I’m happy to see you, but I assumed you and the rest of our idiotic gang would have died of alcohol poisoning the night before.”

“...It’s a long story,” Jungkook says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Say... Where did you go last night, by the way? I tried to look for you, but Seokjin said your roommate brought you home?”

“Yeah. She went to the club with a bunch of her friends. She offered me a ride with her because she knew how much I hated it there,” Yoongi says, frowning. “Fuck you, by the way.”

“What the fuck? What the hell did I do?”

“I don’t know. You’re wearing Seokjin’s shorts and my ape brain told me to retaliate out of instinct,” he explains. He takes another long, good glance at his shorts. “Color me surprised that they fit you, by the way. I’d assume your huge ass would be making it rip the seams, or perhaps your dick would be saying hello.”

Jungkook pats his junk proudly. “I know, right? Big guy decided to cooperate, for some reason.”

“Will you guys stop yapping it up out in the hall? I’m pretty sure Mrs. Sy can hear you two idiots from the first floor,” a voice from behind Jungkook hisses, causing the two boys to jump up in surprise. Lo and behold, your head is peeking out from behind your door, a perfectly stenciled eyebrow arched in annoyance. “Well? Are you two coming in or what?” You return back to your apartment, assuming that they’d soon follow.

Yoongi looks at Jungkook. “Wait. You know Y/N?”

Jungkook looks at Yoongi. “Wait. You know Y/N?”

Yoongi squints his eyes. “She’s my roommate. She’s a mutual friend of––”

“––Seokjin,” Jungkook finishes. The two of them pause, a metaphorical light bulb glowing above their heads.

“Ah.”

“I see. The demoness has roped you into some hare-brained scheme, hasn’t she?” Yoongi nods sagely, rubbing his beardless chin. “Can’t say I feel sorry for you since I have to live with the wench.”

Jungkook grimaces. “Man. She’s insane around you too?”

Yoongi shrugs, walking over to your shared apartment. “I’m dating Seokjin, remember? Everyday, I suffer. Everyday, I feel my arm.”

When Jungkook steps into your apartment, he can’t help but be a little surprised. Of course, he shouldn’t have expected to see a medieval torture chamber in the middle of a metropolitan city, but he wouldn’t put it past you to somehow make it happen. Instead, he finds a fairly cozy-looking home, with comfy couches and filled bookshelves, complete with a small balcony that had a few fresh herbs growing in little pots. It looks…

“Yoongi-hyung. You definitely decorated, didn’t you?” Jungkook snorts, fingering the little kitty-patterned throw blanket draped on your couch. It’s soft and expensive, and definitely something only Yoongi would buy. The elder doesn’t even bother looking embarrassed; he just throws Jungkook the middle finger as he walks towards the kitchen.

You come out once more from one of the connecting rooms at the other end of the apartment, presumably your bedroom. You motion for Jungkook to come in. “Yoongi, you’re gonna bake all day, right? Mind if you let Jungkook and I speak alone in my room?”

Yoongi waves his hand disinterestedly. “Whatever. If you guys are gonna be freaky in there, I’m gonna start playing clown music to drown you guys out, alright? And I mean the remix versions with the extra clown honks.”

You roll your eyes. “Yea, yea. We get it. Grandpa needs his special time alone too.”

Jungkook’s heart jumps when you don’t even bother correcting him. Does that mean you guys really were going to do something freaky? Hopefully, Yoongi has learned to differentiate screams of terror from screams of pleasure, though it’s hard to tell if he’d care otherwise.

He follows you into your room and immediately notices the perfectly made bed and the neatly organized desk. Your curtains are drawn close, but the sheerness of it allows the mid-afternoon sun to brighten the room regardless. Your bedroom smells faintly of vanilla and cinnamon, and he notices the small scented candle still smoking from when you’d put it out.

Nothing in the room indicates that he was inside the room of a psychopath, though maybe Namjoon or Taehyung would argue that anyone who makes their bed every day might be a little out of it. Jungkook continues to stand awkwardly by the door, unsure of what to do next except to stare.

You plop onto your bed, giving him an expectant look. “Well? Are you just gonna stand there by the door and have Yoongi see us measure your dick or what?” That gets Jungkook to move. He closes the door, pausing for a second before locking it for good measure. Then, he takes the short two steps that he needs to stand right in front of you.

You crane your neck, appraising him silently as he fidgets from the weirdness of it all. Your gaze trails down and Jungkook is not surprised when you stop to stare at his neon pink shorts. You snort, thumbing the edge of his shorts lightly. Jungkook shivers even though you’re barely touching him and he knows that you notice.

“Trying to get back at me for leaving you with blue balls yesterday?” you muse, letting go of the thin material. Jungkook wants to bring your hand back to his thigh, but he forces himself to keep still.

He looks down. “Not really? But I mean… Is it working?” He can’t help the hopeful lilt in his voice.

You laugh, patting him lightly on the thigh. “No worries, Jungkook. I did promise you a little something last night, right? I admit it was shitty of me to leave you like that, despite what you already might think of me. You probably think I’m just some insane bitch, right?”

Jungkook stares at you. “Do you want me to be honest or...?”

You roll your eyes, but you seem more amused than anything. “Save it. I know I’m weird. But, a promise is a promise…” You trail off, winking at him. “Besides, this works out for the both of us, right? I wanted to measure your dick before we meet up with Taeyong and Doyoung tomorrow, and I can help you blow your rocks right after. Seems like a deal?”

“Is it bad that I’m so ready to have you suck me off that I’m honest to God accepting your offer without any sense of dignity?”

You consider him for a moment. Then, “Nah. I know dudes who would do worse things for three grand and to have their dick sucked. I’d say you’re just doing you.” You place your hands back on his hips, thumbing around the garter of his shorts.

Jungkook groans, not even flinching when you rip his shorts and boxers off in one rough flourish. His soft dick dangles heavily between his thighs. “See, I’m not entirely comforted knowing that you agree with my moral dilemma.”

You clap your hands together, excitement glittering in your expression. “Who cares! Let’s get you all hard and ready, shall we?”

Jungkook squirms under your gaze, getting dick stage fright. “H-hey… This isn’t like porn… I can’t just get hard when I want to, you know? I need… stimulation or some shit.”

You nod, humming thoughtfully. “You’re right… And I remember you said something about taking a long time to get fully hard, right? That’s gonna be a problem indeed.” You lean forward, “So. Tell me, Jungkook. What are your kinks?”

If Jungkook was drinking water, he’s sure he’d be doing a spit take right now. Instead, he just chokes on his own saliva, coughing out his lungs at your sudden inquiry. “M-my kinks? What for?”

“To get you hard, duh.” You leave featherlight grazes around his thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It stirs something inside Jungkook, but not enough to do anything yet. You tsk, your brow crumpling as you decide what to do next. “What if I…”

You dig your nails into the meat of his thighs and inadvertently pull him closer. He stumbles forward, his breath knocked out of him despite how little you’d done so far. “W-wait,” he wheezes, shock running down his spine. “I––”

You smirk at him, digging harder until you’re sure to leave white little crescents littered around his thigh. “Aha. I guessed you’d be into that. You liked it when I bit you yesterday, didn’t you?”

Jungkook can’t even answer. He’s trying to keep his breathing steady, squeezing his eyelids shut. He hears you shuffling in front of him, and he soon senses your body press closer to him, alerting him that you have stood up. You wrap your arms around his neck, bending his head down until he can feel your breath fan across his lips.

Are you going to kiss him? But the contact doesn’t come; instead, your hands snake up to his hair, massaging his scalp for a moment before tugging on his roots harshly. It pulls a whine from his lips, the response surprising even himself. “S-shit,” he grits his teeth, urging you to do it again. He opens his eyes slightly, sees you watching him with rapt attention.

You lick your lips, looking at him like a meal ready to be eaten. The heat in his stomach builds, but Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to be embarrassed anymore. He doesn’t really have any more room in his brain anymore other than his unabashedly horny thoughts.

“Pain slut, huh? Somehow, it suits you.” You sound breathy, as if you were the one being pleasured instead. It makes Jungkook’s cock twitch a little, coming to life in front of you as you continue to assault his nerves.

“Do you like pain everywhere?” Your hands leave his head, coming down to the edge of his shirt. It’s a silent request, and Jungkook allows you to lift up his sweater, leaving him completely bare before you. You throw it somewhere to your right, eyes raking him up and down. Something about you still being fully clothed makes Jungkook’s inside light on fire, and it rushes blood down south before he can even understand why.

You chuckle, looking at his hardened nipples with interest. “Pierced? What a naughty boy you are.” You flick him there experimentally, and when Jungkook’s breath hitches, that gives you a go sign to do more. You fiddle around with the rosy bud some more, circling it with the pads of your fingers until Jungkook was a whining mess before you. “Sensitive… What a prize you are, Jungkook.”

Jungkook keens at the praise, even though he knows you didn’t really mean it in a good way. He finds himself wanting to please you: to get himself hard for you, to make you want him like how he wants you. He honestly can’t tell if you’re enjoying this as much as him, other than the way you’re watching him closely like a hawk.

He’s nearly half-hard, his cock jutting against your stomach. You peer down, figuring out your next move as he holds his breath, afraid he might do something wrong. Your fingers move once more, tracing shapes across his stomach and causing the muscles there to contract. He anticipates your next movements, his dick steadily throbbing.

“I suppose the easiest way to get you hard is to touch you here, right?” you murmur lowly. You grip him by the hips all of a sudden, your thumbs placed firmly into his Adonis’ belt. You inch closer and closer to where he wants you the most, and you watch him amusedly as he clamps down on his bottom lip, unwilling to sound desperate so early in the game.

(Was it early though? He’s been thinking about this exact scenario since last night, even plaguing his dreams. Still, it wouldn’t look cool if he just… busted a nut just from having his dick out. Even he knew that was kinda sad.)

Despite his best efforts, perhaps the desperation is apparent on his face because you eventually do take pity on him. You wrap your fingers around his length, not moving just yet. You smile secretly to yourself when you hear Jungkook exhale and swallow audibly, but you’re waiting for something. You look up at him, batting your eyelashes innocently as if you didn’t have his dick in your hands.

“What do good boys say when they want something?” You’re fishing, but your teasing tone breaks Jungkook down enough to release a ragged moan. He places his hands on your shoulder, using you for support as you slowly inch your hand down to the base of his cock.

He can’t keep the whine out of his voice when he says, “P...Please. Move?”

Your grin is wicked. “Of course, baby.”

Yeah, if you keep this up, Jungkook is going to come embarrassingly fast and he doesn’t think you’ll be quite pleased with that.

There is pre-cum leaking at the tip of his cock, dangerously close to pooling over and dripping all over your carpet. You are quick to swipe it off with your thumb, dragging it down his shaft for an easier slide. Jungkook’s abs tense, his teeth clamping on his bottom lip so aggressively that he almost splits it open. His grip on your shoulders tighten, but you don’t mind. You keep stroking him languidly, not going fast enough for Jungkook’s liking, but the concentration on your face is enough to make Jungkook release a stilted moan. It doesn’t take long until the wet squelch of your hand jerking him fills the room, coupled with the sound of Jungkook’s labored breathing.

“You’re really wet,” you chuckle, watching with fascination as your words urge another drop of pre-cum to collect at his tip. “Are you always like this?”

“N-not… Really?” It takes a while for Jungkook’s brain to connect, caught between wanting to keep his eyes shut and wanting to stare at your cute hands trying to wrap around his dick. Your fingers can’t even circle the girth of his cock, the realization almost making Jungkook come there and then.

He’d never been one to be overly confident about his penis size, to be honest. He doesn’t really go around proclaiming it to the world, and his meager body count doesn’t help the fact that most people are unaware of the extent of his package. He isn’t itching to tell people either, but he’s starting to see why people would be envious of having a large dick. The sight of you struggling to pump his cock really makes for a pretty picture.

“Ugh, my arm is getting tired,” you complain after a while, getting frustrated when you realize that Jungkook is almost fully hard, but not quite. “Jeez. Your dick is so huge that it really takes a minute for the fuel tank to fill up, huh?”

“I-I’m sorry?” Jungkook wheezes, nearly crying out when you flick your wrist in just the right manner. Your hand pauses by the head of his dick, squeezing tightly enough not to be painful, much to his disappointment. Jungkook is still too shy to ask for more.

You let go of him all of a sudden, causing a guttural whine to escape Jungkook’s lips. Ignoring him, you nudge him back a few steps, Jungkook complying wordlessly. He’s still confused until you reach over to your bed, grabbing one of your pillows before dropping to your knees. Jungkook’s jaw drops, spluttering incomprehensibly as you cushion your knees with the pillow.

You look up, giggling amusedly. “Reminds you of last night, huh? Not gonna lie, I’ve been itching to have your cock in my mouth, though I’m not even sure if any of it can fit. That’s not gonna stop me from trying.”

Oh God. Oh Geez. Jungkook is going to die, isn’t he? He vaguely remembers his dream from the night before, how your pretty pink lips had stretched over his dick, barely going past his head. He whines pathetically, another string of pre-cum finally dripping down and landing on your thighs.

You hold him by his hips, preventing him from moving as your hot breath fans across his wet head. You lick your lips, taking one glance up at him before giving his tip a quick peck. It’s nothing to write home about, but the way Jungkook’s breath catches is enough to encourage you to do more. You suckle his head a little, suctioning your lips and moaning slightly at the bitter tang. Your eyes flutter shut, tongue swirling nondescript patterns as you greedily engrave his taste into your mind.

The image of you enjoying yourself is enough to get Jungkook fully hard. He feels like he’s on fire, from his flushed cheeks all the way to his groin. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, unsure if you’d allow him to pull on your hair.

You must have noticed his plight, because one of your hands leaves his hips to grasp his own, bringing it to your hair. You pop off his dick for a second, lips already redder than before. Jungkook wishes he could kiss you, but he’s still so unsure. “You can pull my hair, but if you push me down further than I’m willing to go, I’m stopping immediately, okay?” Your voice is authoritative and your gaze is steely, but it only prompts Jungkook to moan in reply.

He nods, nearly getting whiplash from how quickly his head bobs. You smirk, appeased by his obedience. You return to your ministrations, rewarding him by going further down and bobbing your head at a snail’s pace.

Jungkook’s sanity is barely hanging onto a thread. He wants to thrust into your wet mouth, never having felt this sort of pleasure in his life. He’s beginning to understand why Jimin is such a slut, and he wonders why on earth he’s been denying himself things like this. His eyes are half-lidded, but he’s determined to watch you as your masterful tongue brings him to the edge of hysteria.

When Jungkook doesn’t think your mouth can go further down, you surprise him once again. You go lower, and Jungkook feels your throat swallow around him until he nearly screams. Drool pools in the inside of his mouth, as if Jungkook’s body doesn’t know what to do with the pleasure. His legs nearly give out, but your hands keep him mounted.

His toes are curling, thighs trembling. “Fuck,” he whines, unable to stop himself when he thrusts a little into your mouth. “Shit, I didn’t mean to–”

You glance up at him. Your eyes are tearing up, but otherwise you look unperturbed. You flatten your tongue on the underside of his dick, tracing the vein there as you slowly come up for air. You swallow the mix of saliva and pre-cum in your mouth, licking your lips like you’ve just had a 5-star meal. You look absolutely debauched, though Jungkook knows he’s probably not doing much better.

“No gag reflex. It’s fine,” you shrug, as if you’d just told him about the weather. Your voice sounds hoarse, roughened by the assault of his dick on your throat. “Are you close?”

Jungkook doesn’t want to admit it, but– “Yes,” he says. He’s breathing like he’s just run a marathon, sweat dripping down his neck. You observe it drip down his body, as it curves down his neck and to his chest.

“You aren’t coming until I say so, got it?” You warn. He nods, cock twitching in desperation for your mouth to continue what it was doing.

But instead, you reach back to your bed, and Jungkook finally notices the tape measure that you’d left there. Oh right. Jungkook is brought back to reality, suddenly remembering why he’d gone here in the first place.

“This will only take a second, baby,” you whisper lowly, and Jungkook’s conscience is shot out of his head once more. Call him baby one more time, and Jungkook is sure to bust his load. He’s worried he might gain a Pavlovian response to the word; getting hard every time someone so much as utters “baby” for whatever reason.

You unravel the measuring tape, placing the end of it near the base of his member. You drag it over his length, whistling in awe as the number keeps growing and growing. “Shit, you really are huge,” you gasp in amazement, peering closely at the measurement to make sure you aren’t reading it wrong. “Nearly nine inches. Are you insane?”

Jungkook chuckles in embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s… nothing?”

You snort, shaking your head at the pure audacity of this boy in front of you. “No need to humblebrag, baby. Unless you want me to degrade you, then stop being coy with me.”

At the word “degrade,” Jungkook’s erection twitches with interest. Of course, you notice. “Oh? You want me to degrade you?”

Jungkook’s face heats up, forever astonished by your brazenness. “N-no! That’s not what I–”

“You want me to call your cock pathetic, huh? Is that what you want?”

Jungkook whines, shifting from foot to foot as he tries to avoid your lustful gaze. “I…”

“Want me to call you names, huh? Took your cock so long to get hard, struggled so much to get it up. What a useless dick that you have…” you trail off, covering your mouth behind your hand to hide your grin.

Jungkook feels like he’s about to fall over. The pressure in between his legs is reaching his breaking point, and Jungkook really doesn’t want to embarrass himself by coming untouched. He has a sinking suspicion you’d enjoy it if he did, however.

Your hand slides back to his crotch, cupping his erection once more. You run your palm along him once, enjoying the way his breath hitches. He’s undeniably close and it fills you with pride knowing that you did this to him. “You’re close.” You say it like a fact.

Jungkook squirms. “Please… Faster… I’m so close, Y/N. Just a lil bit more, please…”

“I love it when you beg,” you laugh, sounding a little mean. “But since you’ve been nice all this time, I’ll let you.”

Your hands speed up, twisting and pulling him in ways that Jungkook isn’t sure are possible. He’s full-on panting like a fucking dog right now, humping shallowly into your hand like he’s lost his mind. He’s so unbelievably close, the heat in his stomach climbing higher and higher until––

“SHIT! Y/N!”

You stop, confused. That shout didn’t sound like Jungkook. You turn to your closed door, ears straining for the sound again. “Yoongi?” you call out. “Did you say something?”

Muffled footsteps come rushing closer. Your doorknob jiggles, but Jungkook had thankfully locked it when he’d come into the room earlier. Yoongi huffs from behind the door, banging loudly on the frame. “Y/N! Help! I fucking dropped the cheesecake!”

“He dropped the cheesecake,” you repeat dully to yourself. You share a look with Jungkook. The banging doesn’t stop.

“Y/N PLEASEEE THE KITCHEN IS A MESS!” Yoongi screams, uncaring of whatever he was interrupting. “YOU OWE ME! I PAID FOR YOUR RENT LAST MONTH SO YOU GOTTA HELP!”

“I hate that bastard,” you sigh, defeated. You let go of Jungkook reluctantly, giving him an apologetic look. Jungkook wants to cry. “I’m… really sorry for leaving you again like this. I…” you hesitate, looking at the door then back to him. “I do kind of owe him, so…”

Jungkook exhales shakily, bending down to the floor to pick his shirt up. He dresses quietly, cheeks burning. Why must you keep torturing him like this? He thinks his balls might explode at this point. “It’s no problem… I’ll just take care of myself at home.”

You peer at him, feeling incredibly guilty. “I have a connecting bathroom. You could use it if you want?”

“That’d be great, thanks.” Jungkook says before hurriedly rushing out of there. He refuses to look at you as he slams the bathroom door shut, breathing slowly through his nostrils in an attempt to calm himself. He waits as he listens for you to leave before his hands scramble back onto his dick, loudly crying out as he tugs himself to completion.

His legs give out from under him as he slides down to the floor, spurts of hot cum flying past his fist. Wave after wave of pleasure tingles down his spine as he slides up and down his cock. After his dick shoots its last droplet of cum, Jungkook slams his head against your bathroom wall. He’s exhausted.

He closes his eyes, thinks about how his life has led him up to this moment. Jizzing in some near stranger’s home while one of his best friends cleans up his fallen cheesecake.

“Jesus fucking Christ I hate it here,” he says. He gets up unsteadily, washing his hands of his mess.

x x x x x

Fully dressed and unsatisfyingly sated, Jungkook exits your bathroom with a flush down his neck. He keeps his eyes averted from you, but not before glaring heatedly at Yoongi as he turns to leave. Yoongi cocks his head to the side, annoyingly unaware of what he had done.

“You okay, dude? You look like a bull ready to pummel me,” Yoongi snickers, bemused by Jungkook’s flared nostrils. “Seriously. You okay?”

You slap Yoongi on the thigh, huffing angrily as you stay squatted on the floor, your other hand busy wiping off the cheesecake from the floor with a paper towel. “Shut up. You’ve done enough shitheadery today.”

Yoongi looks at the mounted clock on your fridge. “It’s only 7PM. My shitheadery doesn’t clock out until 10PM today.”

Rolling his eyes, Jungkook waves his goodbye. “Well. I guess I’ll see you guys,” he murmurs, inching closer to the door. He walks out in silence, no longer bothering to hide his pouting. He takes the elevator down, ruminating on his existence. When he reaches the ground floor, his phone immediately dings with a notification.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ hey. please don’t hate me. i’m really sorry. raincheck?

Jungkook snorts, stopping in his tracks. It’s always just rainchecks with you. He types up a quick response.

from: jjk it’s not your fault. it’s fine.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ you sure? you got off well by yourself at least, right?

from: jjk yeah. don’t worry about it.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ if you’re down… i could help you through the phone? when you get home? :( i just feel really bad. like, genuinely. yoongi is an asshole.

The offer sounds interesting, but sadly, Jungkook is out of juice for the day. He’s got a lot of stamina for many things, but it turns out he’s out of practice when it comes to his own dick.

from: jjk nah it’s fine. thanks though.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ i hope you’re still down for the contest? doyoung texted me while we were busy a while ago and said that they were free tomorrow after 12?

from: jjk no worries. i’ll be there.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ <3 ty you’re the best!! <3

He groans, slapping himself in the face. God, he is so fucking whipped.

x x x x x

The next day, Jungkook wakes up with a burning headache. He feels hungover even though he didn’t drink at all the night before, and Jungkook wonders if his brain had somehow deflated overnight with how hollow he feels. He grabs his phone from his bed stand, sees a new text from you reminding him of what he’d promised.

You had sent him an address to another apartment complex just a few bus stops away from where he lives and he assumes this must be either Doyoung’s or Taeyong’s place. He shuts his eyes for another few moments, trying his best to remember how to live.

It’s already nearing noon, so he needs to get going if he doesn’t want to be late. He shudders to think what you might do if he ghosts you. Despite how guilty you were yesterday for leaving him mid-nut, he doesn’t think that debt will cover him if he chooses not to show up to the dick-measuring contest.

On the bus, he fidgets in his seat, picking at the rips in his jeans and doing anything to keep his mind busy. He keeps thinking that someone knows what he’s up to, paranoia eating him from the inside out as he darts his eyes left and right, hoping no one can actually read minds. The bus is relatively empty, with only him and an elderly couple sitting near the front. They seem none the wiser, though Jungkook fears what they would think if they knew what he was up to.

He almost wishes he was wearing Seokjin’s thot shorts, as the skimpy excuse of clothing had somehow given him some sort of confidence the day before. Gone is that false sense of (misplaced) bravado; instead, Jungkook is filled with anxiety at the prospect of showing a couple of strangers his dick.

(A fairly human response, but that doesn’t help Jungkook’s current case.)

He arrives at the apartment complex in record time, and he sees you standing by the entrance. You look well-rested, your hands fiddling with your phone. Jungkook has only ever seen you when you were wearing that revealing dress from the club and your pajamas from your home, so he’s kind of shocked to see you look cute in your simple white dress and jean jacket. Not that you didn’t look good those other times, but seeing you look like a normal university student is astonishing, for lack of better word.

You almost look like a regular girl just waiting for her date to pick her up.

“Hey!” You greet him cheerily when you see him approach, waving at him. He waves back, the apples of his cheeks dusted pink from his previous thoughts. She’s not your date, you weirdo. Wait, she’s the weirdo. Get it together man! This shit is fucked up.

“This is their place, I assume?” Jungkook asks, looking at the building. It appears almost identical to your own apartment complex, minus the mini water fountain at the front. Ah, the wonders of living in a concrete jungle.

“Yep,” you nod. You start walking towards the entrance, with Jungkook following closely. “You ready? God, I can’t wait to see Doyoung’s stupid face. He’s gonna be so pissed!”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Jungkook mutters, vibrating with nerves.

You both make your way to the apartment, with you humming quietly while he sweats profusely beside you. At least one of you is having fun, he thinks grimly to himself. You reach apartment 322, knocking three times before a boy with neat black hair opens the door.

“Y/N! Good to see you,” the boy says, reaching for a hug. You hug him back enthusiastically, ignoring Jungkook’s bemused stares. If this boy is either Doyoung or Taeyong, aren’t you supposed to… hate both of their guts? Or at least, not be friends? What even is going on?

When you step back, you point at Jungkook offhandedly. “Oh yeah, this is Jungkook. The guy I’m dating.”

Jungkook nearly chokes on his own spit, but luckily the boy doesn’t notice. Right… You guys are supposed to be dating. It’s not real, though. Get a grip! “Hi, I’m Jungkook,” he wheezes, shaking the other guy’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you…”

“I’m Doyoung,” he introduces himself, a small smile on his lips. “Nice to meet you too. I’ve heard… a lot about you, so to speak.”

Jungkook squeaks, earning a chuckle from Doyoung. “No need to be embarrassed. I think we’re way past that point now. Sorry for roping you into this, by the way. But when Y/N wants to fight, well… Let’s just say I’m not going to be the first one who backs down.”

“Says the dude who couldn’t even beat me at arm wrestling,” you snort, pushing past Doyoung and walking into his home. Doyoung rolls his eyes, gesturing for Jungkook to come in.

“Props to you for dating her, by the way. I’ve been friends with that demon since elementary school, so I know what she’s like. You must be a guy with strong willpower,” Doyoung says.

“I’m… Sorry for saying this, but I’m kind of confused? I didn’t know you guys were friends,” Jungkook says, examining Doyoung’s apartment. It’s a lot bigger than yours, though he does recall you saying that Doyoung was filthy rich. It’s a lot more modern looking for sure, as Jungkook can see that Doyoung has two industrial-sized refrigerators in his kitchen. What kind of university student needs two industrial-sized refrigerators?

“Yeah, we are. She actually only dated Taeyong because she knew we both liked each other but I was too stubborn to make a move, so she did the only thing she knew how to do: be an asshole,” he explains simply. Jungkook nods, needing no further clarification.

“Jungkook! Come with me,” you pop out from one of the doorways deeper in the apartment, beckoning him closer. You point at Doyoung, “And you. Get Taeyong ready. I’m gonna need a few minutes to get Jungkook in tip-top shape!”

Doyoung chuckles, shoving Jungkook towards you. “Well, that’s my cue. I’ll introduce you to Taeyong later, I guess. He’s in my bedroom, so we’ll come out in about 20 minutes? That should be enough time, right?”

Yeah. Right. Jungkook walks numbly towards you, arms rigged by his sides as you pull him into Doyoung’s spare bathroom. You lock the door close, whirling around to face him with your hands on your hips. You’ve rolled your sleeves up, appearing like a demented surgeon preparing to dissect him. “Well! Strip!”

Jungkook is clumsy when he unbuttons his jeans, his entire body feeling like it’s being weighed down by pounds of lead. He shucks them off, leaving him in his boxers (thankfully, with no holes in them. He made sure to double-check before he left this morning.) You appraise him silently, thinking of what to do next.

Before Jungkook can say anything, your hands are already on his chest, pointer fingers placed near his nipples. His piercings are visible through his thin shirt, much to your appreciation. You circle them lazily, much like how you did yesterday.

Jungkook can’t relax long enough to enjoy it, however. His shoulders are tense, fists clenched behind his back. He’s trying to stop thinking about what’s going to happen, trying to enjoy your touch. He grits his teeth, swallowing thickly.

“I… I can’t do this, Y/N.” he mumbles. “I don’t think I can get hard. I’m too nervous.”

You pause in your movements. “You’re nervous?” you purr, voice lowering. Jungkook stops fidgeting to stare at you, sensing the shift in your demeanor. “How can I alleviate that, hmm?”

“What?”

You pinch his nipples, hard. He gasps, whimpering right after from the jolt of pain. “I think I know how to calm you down,” you murmur, staring him down like he’s nothing more than a delicious snack.

“You want me to hurt you, huh? Is that it? Answer me, slut.” You say those words, but there’s a small bit of hesitation in your expression, like you’re worried if he truly likes it. When he nods enthusiastically, urging you to go on, you smile softly at him. His heart hammers in his chest, a small case of butterflies beginning to erupt there. You look kinda cute, even if you have his nipples in a twist.

“If it’s too much, just say ‘dumbo’ and I’ll stop, okay?” Jungkook nods once more, eager to get going.

You smirk, letting go of his nipples and gripping his hips instead. Your thumbs stay innocently above his boxers. “Do you like it when I call you names too, huh? You like being pinched and prodded?”

Jungkook whines, already turning needy. The anxiety from a while ago slowly drains away, leaving only lust to cloud his mind. “N-no, I just…”

“No?” You laugh, your thumbs catching on the garter of his boxers and pulling them down until the tip of his cock peeks out, already in the midst of getting hard. “Then what’s this?”

“Nggh…” Jungkook can’t say anything, can only stare helplessly at you.

“Pathetic. You have a nine-inch cock but it’s good for nothing except earning me a bit of money. Shame, isn’t it? Would be nice if you knew how to use it, then maybe I’d let you fuck me,” you say, edging closer to him until your lips find his exposed collarbones. You suck harshly, giddy when color immediately blooms at the spot. You thread your fingers into his dark, fluffy hair – and tug.

It’s too much all at once – Jungkook isn’t ready for any of it at all. He’s panting, whining, drooling a little. He shimmies his hips a little, his boxers sliding down his thighs and onto the marble floor. His cock springs free, already dripping pre-cum but still only half-hard.

“Ah, there it is. Your big useless cock. My, my… Already dirtying Doyoungie’s floor with your slick, huh? You gonna make the floor wet, baby?”

Jungkook garbles something; did he say something? Who knows. All he knows right now is that 1) you’re making him lose his marbles and 2) he’s embarrassingly close. He’s never gotten this hard so fast in his entire life, and he might be suffering from blood loss or something. His head feels light, like he’s floating. His entire body is thrumming, senses filled with nothing but you.

You gently lead him closer to the bathtub where you sit, still paying no attention to his weeping arousal. Your mouth is dangerously close to it though, but you make no move to hold him in your mouth. Instead, you hike your skirt up until it reaches your waist, revealing your white panties. Jungkook zeroes in on the darkening patch, a shuddering breath leaving his lungs. He’s screwed.

“Show me how you pleasured yourself yesterday, when you were in my bathroom,” you say, caressing the front of your panties. You grind against your palm, eyelashes fluttering as your jaw drops into an ‘o’. You exhale through your nose, laughing breathily. “If you do well, then maybe I’ll show you what I did when you left, hmm?”

Jungkook has never moved faster in his life than he did then. He takes his erection into his hands, sighing with relief when he begins to pump. He moves slower than he usually would, unwilling to finish so soon after getting this far. He’s already wound up from your teasing (and if you count the past few days, then let’s say he’s been edged long enough.)

You study him with sharp eyes, focusing on the movement of his hands. “That’s it. It must be easy jerking off with how wet you are, huh?”

“Y-yeah.” Jungkook speeds up, flicking his wrist and focusing on the sensitive tip of his cock. His attention is pulled when he sees you shift from the corner of his eye. His grip stutters when you push your panties to the side, giving him a full view of your glistening core. He licks his lips, aching to put his mouth there but only if you’d allow him.

“Why’d you stop?” You stretch your leg out, using your foot to urge his wrist to keep moving. “Come on. I want to see you.”

You circle your clit leisurely before dipping your fingers into your pussy two fingers at a time, wet enough for the slide to be smooth. Jungkook quickens his pace, wanting to match your speed. He watches, mesmerized, at the sight of your fingers pushing in and out.

The obscene sounds coming from the both of you is loud enough to mask Jungkook’s desperate mewls. He’s going faster now, wanting nothing more than to cum all over you and your pussy. You’d look good in his cum, the pearly droplets would look good in contrast with your perfect skin.

Your thighs are shaking, your own breathing shallow as you quickly approach your end. You’re moaning in tandem with him, your arousal coating your fingers generously as it begins to run down the back of your hand. You’re scissoring yourself, but it’s barely enough when you compare it to Jungkook’s cock. No, nothing would be enough to prepare you to take him. He’d ruin you, and the thought of him breaking you is enough to help you tip over the edge.

“Fuuuuuuck,” you moan, eyes screwing shut as you are wrought with the strongest orgasm of your life. More wetness drips out of you as you rub frantically at your clit, riding your high. You look at Jungkook through your eyelashes, lips parted. “Fuck,” you repeat.

Jungkook can’t hold back anymore. He knows he shouldn’t cum but the pleasure is skyrocketing at an unparalleled speed. His balls tighten, the heat in his abdomen building until he can’t hold back even if he tried. He shudders once, twice, before jets of his cum spills from over his fist, some of the droplets making their way onto your thighs. He moans at the sight, doesn’t try to change his trajectory as his mind is completely hazed with lust. “Shit, I’m–” Jungkook grinds one last time into his hand, before promptly slumping down onto the floor.

“Jesus, that was a lot of cum,” he hears you say, but he can’t bring himself to look at you. He’s ashamed, having cummed without your permission. He can feel his dick softening underneath him, and he dimly remembers that hadn’t been the plan at all. He was supposed to get hard, have his dick measured, and then finish if he was allowed. And now, he ruined everything because he couldn’t hold himself back.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he mutters quietly, hiding behind his cum-stained hands. He cringes when the mess enters his eyes, wiping his palm somewhere on his leg. “Fuck. I messed everything up. You were just… It was too much… You…”

“Should’ve used your safety word, Jungkook.”

“It wasn’t because it was bad,” Jungkook’s cheeks flush, “It was… too good.”

You kneel beside him, cradling his chin and forcing him to look at you. He had been afraid to see disappointment in your eyes, so he’s absolutely surprised to see you look… amused. You’re even giggling a little.

“Sorry. I went a bit overboard. Even I get horny sometimes,” you shrug, wiping a bit of cum away from his forehead. Your own fingers are slick with your own cum, so really, you were just making a bigger mess of his face. Jungkook can’t say he’s opposed to a little mess. “You just looked so good that I couldn’t help myself.”

“You… enjoyed yourself, too? I’m not insane for thinking there’s something between us?”

“Honestly, you’re at least a little bit insane,” you laugh at his dumbfounded expression. “What? I’m cuckoo, and you know it. The fact that you got turned on by me even after all I’d done to you… Really puts you into perspective, huh?”

Jungkook grumbles, but he’s no longer frowning. “I guess. My friends tell me I have a type, and I guess you fit the bill.”

You laugh wholeheartedly at that, and it brings a smile to Jungkook’s face. He likes it when you laugh, he decides. “Same here. I guess you’re my type, too.”

You peer down at his flaccid dick. “Too bad about your meat flute, though. Unless you can get it back up in the next 2 minutes, then I don’t think you’re getting that three grand.”

“Please don’t call my dick that,” Jungkook says before shrugging his shoulders. “And it’s no worries. I had the biggest nut of my life and that’s good enough to me. Plus, you said you’d give me one thousand dollars if I agreed to help you out, so you better not back out on that.”

You snigger, patting him gently on the shoulder. “Yeah, whatever. But not before we get out of here and you fuck my brains out, got it? You need to work for it, baby.”

Is it bad that his cock was already beginning to stir once more? Unprecedented, as it usually took Jungkook ages to get back up. Maybe you really were the one for him.

“Deal. Let’s get out of here?”

When the two of you finish getting cleaned up and leave the bathroom with no evidence that you had even been there, Doyoung doesn’t even bat an eye as you walk past him, eager to get out of the door. Taeyong is lounging on the couch with his dick… mysteriously still in his pants, as if he had no intention of taking them off in the first place.

“Sorry, we need to leave. There’s an emergency we have to attend to. See you, Doyoungie!” You tug Jungkook along, who waves his own hasty goodbye.

The door clicks shut, leaving the couple alone once more. Taeyong grins up at Doyoung, “You really are amazing, Doyoung. How’d you know she’d end up with him?”

Doyoung flicks open his phone, showing Taeyong his text messages with none other than Kim Seokjin himself. “All according to keikaku, my love. Kim Seokjin always wins.”

#networkbangtan #armiesnet #btsghostie #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #bts #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts jungkook #bangtan #bts fanfic #no more smut for 2020......... NO MORE #next fic is angst idc anymore I NEED TO CLEANSE MYSELF AHHHHHH

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the-iceni-bitch · 4 years

Text

A Surprise to be Sure

Pairing: Geralt/Fem!Reader

Words: 5761

Summary: You meet Geralt and Jaskier on the road and have a lovely little adventure in the kingdom of Temeria.

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, explicit descriptions of violence, TW mentions of rape, SMUT, 18+

A/N: It’s here y’all, my b-day Geralt fic! I’m really happy with how this turned out and could honestly have published it without the smut, that’s how much I love this fic. It is definitely going to be part of a series so I hope you all enjoy! (PS I love writing Jaskier way too much and could honestly just do a full series of him having random misadventures all over the continent!) I’m tagging @navybrat817 because I know she loves some Henry Cavill

Jaskier had been belting the Fishmonger’s Daughter for the past 30 minutes, and Geralt was ready to murder him.

“Must you insist on shouting our position to every living creature in a 5 mile radius?” He hissed at the bard.

“List, my grumpy, hoar-headed friend. I need to be sure my voice is in top form if I’m performing at a royal ball. Now, you’ll feel better if you sing with me, Oooh Fishmonger, Oh Fishmonger, Come Quell your Daughter’s Hunger!”

“I’m going to feed you that damn lute before we reach the castle if you don’t shut up. I can’t listen to this for three days.” The Witcher growled under his breath. He couldn’t figure out why he had agreed to accompany the irritating man on his journey, but the man always managed to convince him to go along with his stupid plans.

“Now, Geralt. You know you secretly love my singing. After all, how many jobs has that little song of mine rustled up for you, eh? Stop being so grouchy.”

He gave him a grunt. “Fine, can you at least sing something else?”

“Ah, but of course, my large, angry friend. Eh hem, You think you’re safe, without a care…”

“Gods, not that one.”

“Well, there’s no pleasing you is there. Ahh, what’s that noise?”

A feminine shriek split the air, causing a flock of birds to take flight only a few feet from the pair of riders. Roach of course didn’t mind, but Jaskier’s mount almost threw him, causing Geralt to smile.

“Gods, see, this is why I hate travelling on these creatures. Give me a nice coach ride any time. Come Geralt, let us see what fair maiden is in need of our assistance.”

“Our assistance?”

“Well, your assistance. C’mon Geralt, a damsel in distress, this is the perfect material for a new song.”

Geralt followed the idiot as he rode towards the sounds of distress, determined to keep him from getting himself killed. He didn’t really like getting involved in petty issues of the realms but knew that Jaskier lived for these tiny adventures.

They came upon you, surrounded by five men in soiled armor. Your cart had a broken wheel and was sinking into the snow and mud. One of the men had you pinned in the back of the cart by your neck as he buried his other hand in your skirts. The other men jeered at you as they kept their watch.

“Look Geralt, a fair maid waiting to be rescued, what could make for a better song? Ho there fellows, stop your raping or you’ll have to deal with my cantankerous companion here.”

“Move along, bard this doesn’t concern you.” One of the soldiers growled at Jaskier before spitting to the side. “Or, wait your turn and we’ll let you and your pal have her when we’re done.”

“Ah, Geralt, I’ll let you take care of them. Make sure to draw it out, a long fight always makes for a better song.”

“Oh, fuck this.” You hissed, pulling out the stiletto you had hidden in your skirts and gutting the man who was restraining you.

Jaskier turned his head and vomited as the man’s intestines seeped out of him and he crumbled to the forest floor. You flung your cloak off your shoulders as you drew the obscenely large longsword you had concealed beneath its folds and chopped off the hand of the next soldier who came charging at you before plunging it into his chest.

“I don’t know, bard. Seems like the maid has things under control.” Geralt grinned at his companion once he had finished emptying his stomach.

You wrenched the blade free as the two unhorsed soldiers rushed you. One of them tossed his own dagger at you and you used your sword to whip it back at him, catching him in the throat. You brought up your dagger and crossed the blades you were holding to catch the sword of your fourth opponent. You managed to loop the dagger under his hilt and wrenched the sword from his grasp as you let the momentum from his attack carry you the two of you backwards, flipping him over your head until you were straddling his chest. You gave him a small smirk as your drove your dagger through his eye.

“Shouldn’t we be doing something?” Jaskier asked as he watched the bloody show with abject horror painted on his face.

“What would you suggest bard? The woman seems to be able to handle herself, and I can’t say these soldiers seem particularly deserving of assistance.”

The final soldier had dismounted and was now striding towards you, twirling his sword around like an idiot peacock. You scowled at him before pulling a massive crossbow from beneath the packages in your cart and shooting him in the shoulder.

He went down with a soft grunt and you strutted over to him, crossbow slung over your shoulder and dagger twirling through your fingers. You tutted at him like you were chiding a naughty schoolboy.

“Oh, Abbett, what did you do with the money? I certainly hope you have it on you. I don’t feel like trekking through this frozen forest digging for it.”

“You cunt.” The man spat at you. “We fought those bloody Nilfgaardians to keep these farmers safe and warm. The least they can do to thank us is give up a few bloody coins and their daughters.”

You shot him again in the leg and he let out a scream.

“One more time, Abbett, the money? I can’t give those poor girls their maidenhoods again but maybe their families can offer a dowry to make them good matches.”

“Argh, bitch! It’s in the saddlebags.”

“Excellent! See, not so fucking difficult, and you saved me the nasty task of gelding you!” You took a few steps forward and shot him through the eye as you went to examine the horse and find the stolen coins.

“Ahem, hello, madam! I am Jaskier the Bard and this is my companion, Geralt of Rivia! Would you join us on our journey to the capital of Temeria? You seem like a lass with stories to tell and I’m just the fellow to put them to song.”

“Jaskier, shut the fuck up.” Geralt hissed at him.

You whipped around to the two of them and pointed your crossbow at the Witcher. “Fuck, I almost forgot about you two. Well, you’ve given me a bit of a conundrum boys. I was counting on there not being any witnesses here. These vagabonds are still wearing the king’s colors after all, and we’re close enough to the capital that that could prove to be a problem for me.” You had started to unfasten the bodice of the gown you were wearing, desperate to get out of the confining layers of cloth that had comprised your disguise. You revealed an outfit of bleached leather and furs that clung to your body.

“Oops.” Jaskier murmured, giving Geralt a sheepish grin as he raised his hands in supplication. “Geralt, friend, maybe you can talk to our new companion.”

“Right, listen, we don’t care that you just slaughtered five of the king’s soldiers, though I’m sure upon closer inspection they’ll be shown to be deserters. And as we have no desire to bring any trouble down on you, we’ll just be on our way.”

“Wait,” You called after them, tossing the rags of your gown onto the abandoned cart as you saddled your horse. “If you’re heading towards the capital, I’ll join you. I have some deliveries to make before I get out of this god-forsaken country, and that way I can keep an eye on you.” You gave them a grin as you rode up the hill to join them. “I can think of worse company than a bard and a Witcher.”

Jaskier shot a grin back at you as you joined them. “Ah, finally someone who will appreciate my talents. Tell me… um..”

“Y/N”

“Y/N, lovely, do you have any requests?”

Geralt groaned internally at the thought of being stuck with two singing idiots for the journey but was cut short by the sound of multiple bows being drawn.

“Fuck.”

“That’s far enough you three.” A captain in shining armor commanded as you came into view of a mounted regiment of king’s soldiers, accompanied by about 100 footmen who all had arrows trained on you. “What do you know about several groups of dead king’s men that have been found in these woods.”

Geralt shot you a look of reproach over his shoulder as you pointedly avoided making eye contact, examining your fingernails like they were the most interesting thing on the continent.

“There’s another group of dead soldiers in the clearing back there, captain. Looks like we’ve found our culprits.”

“Oh, just wait a minute. My grouchy friend and I were just passing through when we came upon this lovely woman being set upon by these supposed kingsmen. Granted, we considered dispatching them ourselves but our fair companion had things well in hand. Seems like she was doing your jobs for you.”

You and Geralt shared a groan. “Shut up, Jaskier.”

The captain gave a snort of derision. “You want us to believe this pretty thing has been besting the king’s chosen troops on her own for months? Take their weapons and restrain the Witcher and the woman. The bard can sing us some songs to pass the time as we travel. We’ll save this for the king to sort out.”

You gave a heavy sigh and started handing over your blades. Jaskier’s eyes started to bulge as you continued pulling smaller and smaller knives out of an increasingly absurd number of hiding places, until there was an impressive pile in front of the soldier who had been tasked with collecting your weapons.

Geralt was less forthcoming in turning over his weapons and didn’t really start until a spear prodded him in the back. He was gazing at Renfri’s blade when the captain lost his patience, and the butt of the spear whipped across the back of his head, knocking him cold.

“Put his blades with the rest of it.”

Geralt woke up with his face buried in your hair and let out a groan at the throbbing in his skull.

“What the fuck?” He lifted his head, squinting against the sun reflecting off the new fallen snow.

“Good morning, Witcher. Apparently this type of restraint has been proven to limit the ability of the restrained to extricate themselves from their bindings. You missed a fascinating lecture on it as they were tying us up.”

The two of you were bound face to face on the saddle of your massive black courser. Your arms and legs tangled around each other and wrapped in an intricate series of knots. He started trying to wrench himself free, but only succeeded in bringing you even closer to him as he let out a grunt of frustration.

“Look at the two of you, so cozy.” Jaskier rode up with a grin on his face, strumming his lute. “Do not worry yourselves, my violent friends. I am currently working on a plan to extricate the two of you from this predicament. I have the ear of the captain.”

“Are you going to annoy him to death Jaskier? Maybe if you sing that damn abortion song enough times, he’ll release us just to be rid of you.”

“You wound me, Geralt. The name of that tune is “You Think You’re Safe” and you’ll be happy to know that the captain is enamored of my talents and has asked me to regale him and his officers at their meal tonight.”

“Ah, good for you Jaskier. Make sure to sing the ‘Fishmonger’s Daughter’ I hear that’s a favorite of the troops.” You smiled at him, throwing him a wink.

“Oh, I knew I liked you, Y/N! See Geralt, it isn’t so hard to appreciate what I bring to the table. Thank you for your advice, sweet lady, I will be sure to take heed!” He rode off, humming to himself as he tuned his lute.

“Why would you encourage him?” Geralt growled in your ear, still fighting against his bonds.

“Ah, Witcher, you need to relax. I’m sure Jaskier’s plan will work out just fine.”

“The bard is an imbecile, the day I trust myself to any plan of his is the day I resign myself to a slow and painful death.”

“Well, be that as it may, if you don’t stop struggling, we’re going to end up in a very uncomfortable situation.” You said, giving a gasp as another jerk of your bonds brought you indecently close.

“Fuck.” He let out in a hiss, resigning himself to waiting for a better opportunity as a lock of your hair blew into his face, smelling of pine and turned earth “I don’t suppose you have any sort of plan of escape, since it’s your fault we’re in this situation.”

“Geralt, I do apologize that you have ended up in my mess. I’m so sorry that the war with Nilfgaard has caused unprecedented levels of desertion, and that the cowards that have runoff have been terrorizing and robbing the smallfolk. And I’m sorry that the king failed to listen to the pleas of his people, who had to pool together the last of their coin to contract me to come in and relieve them of their problems. But yes, this mess is entirely of my own making, and nothing to do with the colossal mismanagement of the realm of Temeria.”

“Hmmph.” He grunted into your hair. “So how are you getting us out of this mess?”

You gave him a snort. “Don’t worry that pretty head of yours Witcher, something will work out.”

“Alright, dismount.” One of the lieutenants ordered, leering at the two of you. “Hope you two have enjoyed today’s ride. I hear they’re already constructing a gibbet for you in Vizima.”

“I see the royal council has decided to do away with even the minimal farce of a trial then.”

Two soldiers had started to undo the maze of knots binding you and the Witcher together and you gave a hiss as blood started to flow back into your legs.

“An attack on the king’s army is an attack on the king. No trials for traitors to the crown.”

“You do know that neither of us are citizens of this kingdom?” Geralt asked him. “You can’t betray a monarch you don’t serve.”

“Pssh, a minor inconsistency. The king can’t be seen as soft during wartime.”

“Oh, of course not.” You murmured as the soldiers dragged you off your mount and led you to the prisoners’ tent that had been erected next to the officers’. The same intricate raveling of ropes and knots started again as they bound your upper bodies to the poles in the center of the tent. You could hear the beginnings of revelry in the officers’ pavilion when they left you.

“Well, now what?” Geralt asked you, pulling against the bonds at his wrists.

“Just, have a little patience.” You chided him, leaning against your pole in as relaxed of a pose as you could achieve.

“You did hear that they plan on executing us once they get us back to the capital?”

“No, Geralt, I missed that.” You spat at him as you heard Jaskier start to sing and gave a small smile. “Excellent, let’s hope he leaves the good stuff until they’re well and drunk.”

“What are you talking about, Y/N?” He asked you, still trying to wrench himself free.

“For fucks’ sake, give it a rest. Apparently the royal knot tyers are the only members of this army who haven’t fallen lax in their duties.” You rolled your eyes at him. “Just give it a half hour and we’ll give you a chance to get out all the pent up aggression.”

“So you do have a plan? Any chance you want to let me in on it?”

“I think I’ll leave it for a surprise.”

The two of you sat there listening as the sounds of drunken celebration filled the camp. It only took 20 minutes for the revelry to reach a dull roar, and a smile crept over your face when you heard the first refrains of ‘The Fishmonger’s Daughter’.

“Ah, Jaskier, perfect timing.” You muttered.

The song started speeding up and spread through the regiment. You heard the soldiers start clapping along and seized your moment, bending your legs and driving your back into the post you were bound to at each clap, starting to shift it out of the ground with each drive of your shoulders.

Geralt finally seized on your idea and joined you in wrenching his post out of the ground. Within a few rounds of the song, they were loosened enough for you to drag them out of their anchors, causing the tent to collapse around you. You slipped your bonds over the ends of the posts and unraveled yourselves. Geralt gave you a look of appreciation as you hefted your post, flung the folds of the fallen tent off yourself and whipped the post around to take out the two guards that had been posted at the entrance.

“Well, let’s find our weapons, shall we?” You said, giving him a grin.

Apparently, your appraisal of the army had been accurate; you ran into minimal resistance as you made your way to the weapons tent and managed to knock out the only sentries you encountered before Geralt had a chance to react.

“Ah, my babies.” You said to yourself as you started resheathing the ridiculous number of knives you had accumulated for yourself, kissing each blade before you returned it to its rightful place.

“How can you possibly be comfortable wearing all of that steel?” Geralt asked you around a grin, watching you tuck a dirk between your breasts and wondering how you managed to not cut yourself.

“I’m a woman traveling the continent alone, Witcher. I’ve found that the element of surprise is my friend, and there’s nothing quite as surprising as an unexpected knife between the ribs.”

He actually laughed at that, strapping one sword to his back and one to his hip as you hefted your crossbow and loaded it with a bolt before heading back out into the snow.

You were met by the surprised faces of a drunken group of soldiers who were wending their way through the tents, arms around each other as the slurred the lyrics to their favorite song. You shot the first through the chest as you drew your longsword over your shoulder and you dropped your crossbow to the ground, slashing the second across the face before they finally regained their composure and sounded the alarm.

Geralt drew his blades and clashed with three of the remaining soldiers as you grappled with the other two. He managed to drive his long sword through one of their chests before the other two had a chance to converge on him and he struggled to drive them apart with his fists to allow himself room to maneuver. One of his opponents went down suddenly with a dagger through his throat and Geralt threw a look your way to see your first opponent down and missing an eye as you drove your knee into the chest of your second opponent, driving him into a post as you brought your sword around and ran it across his throat.

Geralt threw his assailant over his shoulder and rammed his blade through his chest as you let out a shrill whistle and hefted your crossbow as the sound of hoofbeats rose through the camp. Roach and your courser came charging around the bend suddenly and you latched onto your steed’s mane and swung yourself onto his back as Geralt vaulted onto Roach’s. You turned suddenly and led him back towards the officers’ pavilion as drunken soldiers did their best to pursue you.

“We almost forgot the fucking bard!” You grinned at him as you hopped off your horse and slashed through the back of the officers’ tent. You emerged seconds later with a terrified looking Jaskier, who you tossed over the back of your mount like a sack of potatoes before leaping up behind him and kicking your steed to a gallop.

“Either of you want to fill me in on what the fuck is happening?!” Jaskier shrieked as he bounced around.

The two of you ignored him as you rode on. You set a punishing pace through the whole night, not looking back until you crossed the river into the kingdom of Redania as the sun rose and you finally allowed your horses to slow their pace to a walk, dismounting to give them a rest.

“If my lute is damaged, I’ll never forgive you.” Jaskier whined as he inspected his instrument, hobbling along as he tried to adjust after the unceremonious thrashing he had taken during the ride.

“Jaskier, a little thanks should be in order. Y/N and I did save you from a rather nasty execution after all.” Geralt grinned at him as he walked beside you, Roach nuzzling him in the shoulder as he patted her snout.

“I told the two of you, I had the captain’s ear, I would have been able to talk us out of any trouble.”

You gave him a snort as your courser butted his head into yours, begging for his own pats. “Jaskier, you would have been strung up right beside us. Just think though, this little adventure has the makings of a great song, eh? I’ll buy you a nice hot meal and a bath at the inn we’re coming up on.”

“Well, I’d never say no to a bath. How close is this inn?”

“Just over the next hill.”

You arrived within an hour and made arrangements for the horses as Jaskier headed in to arrange rooms and meals for the three of you.

Geralt and you headed into the inn and you grabbed the two of you the largest mugs of beer you could arrange before joining Jaskier at a table and tearing into the trencher of bread.

“So, good news first.” The bard said. “I arranged for nice, hot baths for all three of us, in addition to our meals. The only thing is, they only had two rooms.”

Geralt let out a groan at that. “Fine, bard, I guess the two of us are sharing accommodations for the next few days then.”

“Aah, well. I figured, with you two having grown so close during our little journey, that you wouldn’t mind sharing the much, much larger room whilst I make due with the tiny, lonely room myself that I’ve already had them unload my things into.”

The two of you shot him equally reproachful looks over your mugs of beer as a barmaid arrived to let him know his bath was ready.

“Ah, splendid. Well, you two enjoy your breakfasts. I’m going to take a very long nap after my bath and I’ll see you this afternoon, or maybe even tomorrow.”

A whole roasted chicken arrived and the two of you tore into it without a word, polishing it off quickly as you hadn’t realized how famished you were.

“I’ll arrange for them to bring up the hot water for baths for us.” You told Geralt as you stood up and stretched, downing the last of your beer.

“I’m fine without.” The Witcher grumbled at you.

You gave him a derisive chuckle. “If we’re bedding together for the two days it’ll take for the horses to rest up, you’re bathing yourself at least once, I don’t need to smell everywhere you’ve been in the past month.”

He gave an uncomfortable shrug of his shoulders as he followed you upstairs. It had been a while since he’d spent the night with a woman he wasn’t paying, and there was something about you he found disarming. Endearing, but disarming nonetheless.

“Ah, at least there’s two tubs.” You said gleefully as you entered the room. A group of attendants arrived a moment later, carrying four large buckets of steaming water between them that they emptied into the copper tubs before taking their leave.

You started by pulling off your supple boots and Geralt turned his back as he began to unlace his jerkin. He heard you give a soft laugh behind him. “Are we really going to pretend like neither of us have seen a naked body before, Witcher?”

He whipped around at the amusement in your voice. You had removed your corset and sleeves and were down to nothing but a thin linen tunic on top. He tried not to stare at the shape of your breasts moving beneath the fabric as you worked at unlacing your breeches. You shot him a wicked look through your lashes as you moved your fingers back to unstrap the multiple sheathes that had been hidden beneath your bodice.

He did his best to ignore you as he ripped his jerkin off over his head. He made easy work of his tunic and breeches and sank into the tub while you were still working on undoing the intricate trappings of your hidden arsenal.

“I really don’t see how you can be comfortable in all of that Y/N.” He chided you as you removed the final straps and drew your tunic over your head before shimmying out of your breeches. He did his best to keep his eyes occupied elsewhere as you stepped into your own bath, hissing at the heat.

“Comfort is a matter of individual preference, dear. Oh, that’s wonderful.” You sank into the water with a sigh and dunked your head under before coming back up with a gasp.

“So, you going to tell me how you ended up with a warhorse, enough steel to equip a small band of thieves, and the strength to wield a tentpole like a damn quarterstaff, or is that something I’ll have to guess at?” He asked as he dumped a bucket over his head and ran the water through his hair before shaking it back out and splashing you, making you yelp.

“I think I’ll keep that my little secret for now, Geralt. Maybe if you buy me a few strongales over the next few days I’ll regale you with my tale of woe.” You let out a sigh as you felt your muscles relax. “Maybe I’ll get you to tell me your history as well. I hear the Redanians have a liquor that will light your chest on fire and make you forget the seasons.”

He gave a laugh and settled his head back against the tub. “You think you can outdrink me girl, you’re in for a nasty surprise… fuck.” He hadn’t heard you leave your tub and sat up startled when you crawled into his, sloshing water over the sides.

“Oh, Geralt, you’ll find that I’m full of surprises.” You said before pressing your mouth to his softly and giving a gentle sigh.

He got over his surprise quickly and wrapped his arms around you, pressing you to him fiercely as he growled against your lips.

You gave him a small laugh as you moved your lips down the line of his jaw to his neck, running your teeth along his collarbone before nipping at him softly as your hands moved down the plains of his chest, dipping below the water to take his cock in your grasp. He gave you a satisfying moan as you did so and you began sliding your hand up and down his length slowly as you raised a small bruise on his shoulder with your mouth.

He bucked his hips up into your hand as you increased your pace and you moved your other hand below the water to play with his balls. You leaned against his chest and gazed up at him with heavy lids as you watched him come apart under your ministrations.

He arched his back and gave a heavy moan as he came in your hand and you grinned against his chest as he softened, planting soft kisses along his throat as he came down and his breathing slowed.

He swallowed thickly and grinned at you before scooping his arms underneath you and lifting you out of the tub easily, making you shriek with glee before he dropped you unceremoniously on the large bed and pounced on top of you, nuzzling himself into the skin below your ear as his large hands skimmed down the sides of your torso before coming to rest on your hips and kneading them, raising bruises on your soft skin.

He brought one hand between the two of you and ran his fingers through the soft hair of your mound before rubbing them between your folds, making you arch into him as you let out a thin whine, fluttering your lashes as you gazed at him. He grinned down at you as he inserted two fingers at an agonizingly slow pace and you moaned as he started fucking them into you, curling them against that sweet, spongy spot each time.

He added another finger as he buried his face in your hair, inhaling your clean scent as you mewled and whimpered, begging him for more. He started strumming your clit with his thumb and you writhed underneath him, doing your best to grind your cunt into him as his fingers stretched you.

It was almost too much when he added the fourth finger and you wrapped your hands in his silver hair, pressing his face to your neck as you cried silently. He moved his mouth back to yours as he increased his speed and pressure on your tiny bud, moving his tongue softly past your lips and tangling it with yours. You came around him, clenching down on his fingers in your release as all the breath rushed out of you. He felt you go rigid beneath him before you collapsed back against the bed with a sigh.

“You think you’re ready for me sweetheart?” He asked as he kissed your neck, moving his hands up to palm your breasts.

You pulled his head back by his hair and gave him a grin before squeezing his sides with your thighs and rolling until you were on top of him, straddling his hips.

You sat up over him and he groaned at the sight of you, soft skin moving over lean muscle, a patchwork of faint scars covering your torso. He ran his thumb over an especially noticeable one that ran over your ribs below your left breast as you guided him to your entrance and sheathed his length inside you suddenly, making him hiss.

You started grinding against him, rubbing your clit against his pubic bone before you started fucking yourself on his cock. He tossed his head back with a moan and a murmured “Fuck” as his hands moved to your hips and guided your thrusts, meeting your hips with his own as he rutted up into you.

He sat up suddenly and pressed you to him as he knelt beneath you, staring into your eyes with lust blown pupils, a thin golden ring around a pool of deep black. You wrapped your legs around his back as he fucked up into you at a faster pace, making it hard for you to breathe.

He wrenched your head down to his and crashed his mouth against yours, his tongue invading you hungrily as you felt your pleasure starting to coil in your abdomen and you whimpered into his mouth.

He felt you starting to clench around him and moved a hand between you to strum at your clit. It only took a moment and you were flying apart around him, every muscle below your waist spasming as your orgasm wracked you and you cried into his mouth. His release was right behind yours as his hips stilled and you felt his spend spurting into you, coating your velvety walls in his release with a feral growl.

He collapsed back on the bed, still holding you to him as you both came down from you pleasure, breathing heavily as your hearts pounded together. You propped your chin on his chest and gave him a sinful grin that he returned, planting a kiss on the top of your head as you started to untangle yourselves.

“Well, if all your surprises are that pleasant, Y/N, I can’t wait to find out more.” He said to you over his shoulder as he stood up from the bed, grabbing a towel to finish drying himself off. He tossed you one and you ran it softly between your thighs, cleaning the mixture of your releases from your slit as you grinned back at him.

“My dear Witcher, I aim to please.” You threw a wink at him before you stood up and stretched. “I arranged for some clean clothes to be brought up, could you check the door for them?”

He peeked his head out and brought in two sets of soft woolens, tossing one to you. You yanked a tunic over your head before stepping into the clean pair of breeches. You decided to forgo most of your blades for the moment, opting for a simple belt that contained two daggers once you had finished lacing up your bodice.

“Shall we head down for more ale?”

“Gods yes, what else do you know about this storied Redanian liquor?”

You gave him a throaty laugh as you headed down to the main room and lute music floated up to meet you.

“Ah, Y/N! Geralt! My friends! Join us for a song won’t you? Y/N, I still want to hear you sing ‘The Fishmonger’s Daughter’ for us, eh? Oh Fishmonger, Oh Fishmonger, Come Quell your Daughter’s Hunger”

“Gods, Jaskier, aren’t you sick of that song yet?” Geralt growled half heartedly

“Pull the stick out of your ass, Witcher. C’mon, Jaskier. To pull on my horn, as it rises in the morn!”

“What a lovely voice you have my lady! For tis naught but bad luck, to fuck with a puck!”

The Witcher rolled his eyes at the two of you as he headed to the bar and the rest of the patrons joined in. What he wouldn’t give to never hear this abominable tune ever again.

“Lest your grandkid be born, a hairy young faun! Bleating and baying all day, hey ho!”

Permanent Tags:

@drabblewithfrannybarnes

#geralt of rivia #geralt x ofc #geralt x y/n #geralt x you #geralt x reader #witcher netflix #witcher fanfiction #henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #fanfic #fanfiction #writing

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thatharringrovehoe · 3 years

Text

So I've been playing Dishonored which is my favorite game and this popped into my head so now you all have to suffer with me. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*.✧

He's so fucking cold. Like he’s been plunged into a lake mid winter and can’t find his way to the surface. Hands shaking, Billy sifts clumsily through the box of his mother’s things he keeps hidden in the back of his closet. He's found that if he thinks about the good times, picnics at the beach under the California sun, the thing oozing it's way though his brain losses just a bit of it's grip. Leaves Billy with enough motor function to stumble around his bedroom, trying to find the right pieces. And fucking hell it’s been so long since he's done this. He can remember helping his Ma when he was little, chubby fingers clenched tight in her cotton sundress as she arranged the items on the table just right. Pricked her finger to draw sigils in a language long forgotten, her voice a soft cadence through the bedroom as she hummed Billy’s favorite lullaby. No words, just a beautiful mournful thing. Humming a song of grieving loss. Billy doesn't know why he likes it so much.

“Remember baby. When you offer your gifts they have to be special. Well loved. Something that brings you joy every time you use it.”

His mother kept a pair of earrings on the cloth covered table. She never wore them when his father was home. Took them out and put them back on the little rickety stand in the back of her closet every day before he came back from work. Dangling silver daggers with the onyx beads. Billy shoved one straight through his left earlobe when he turned fifteen and has barely taken it out since.

His Ma told him that everything he built his shrine with had to mean something. Had to be something he treasured. From the fabric to the stand itself. So Billy tried his best. Draped his best leather jacket over the milk crate that held all of his favorite hair products. Placed his Ma's Fleetwood Mac album next to one of his mother's silver earrings (the one he always wears), arranged as neatly as he can manage. He’d had to prick his thumb seven times because to his dawning horror it kept healing over. Just another tally mark towards something being really fucking wrong. And he remembers the warehouse. Can still feel the slimy caustic sludge being pumped down his throat by a fucking tentacle. But he’d hoped it had been a dream, a nightmare from reading to many Lovecraft novels. Billy curses as he slices open his thumb for what feels like the millionth time.

Apparently not.

He's drawn the characters just how he remembers. His mother had made him practice every day, showing him each and every shape and line, drawn in colorful crayon. She gave him a cookie every time he got them right. Never hung them up on the fridge though. Didn't want his father to see.

He can feel the shadow creeping through his blood, dragging it’s claws against his veins. It might not know exactly what he’s doing yet, but it must be able to feel the intention. Billy thinks of ocean waves and a soft hand running through his curls. Fights the pull at the back of his mind to just give in. To sleep. His hands shake harder.

Fuck, where is it?! Billy combs through records and trinkets, a bottle of her perfume. He’s desperately hoping it didn't get lost in the move because his mother never taught him how to make one. Hell, he's pretty certain that he wouldn't be able to find the pieces he needs in Hawkins anyway. Not like Melvalds has a supernatural voodoo isle.

Then finally, finally he finds it. Lifting up his mother’s satin scarf it comes tumbling out to land on the floor with a clatter. Bleached white and beaten smooth by the waves, it's about the size of a sand dollar. Billy picks it up, places it in the palm of his hand. He still remembers the day he found it out on the shore. Washed up between some sea glass, the leather bindings still somehow soft even soaked with salt water. Etched with symbols and shapes Billy will never understand. When Billy showed it to his mother an unreadable expression crossed her face. It was that evening she showed him her shrine.

The rune seems to hum against his skin, an otherworldly song from far away ghosting past his ears. The thing that’s trying to Shanghai Billy’s brain writhes. It's angry, but more than that it’s fucking terrified and Billy has never been more sure of anything in his life. This was a good idea. But his limbs are getting colder, heavier. Whatever this evil piece of shit is it doesn’t like what Billy’s doing. He has to fight against the deadening of his limbs, crawling towards his shitty attempt at a shrine from his place on the floor. His vision is starting to grow dark when he finally clutches on to the milk crate, placing the rune between the earring and his cassette tape. And he knows that there's no guarantee. That whatever his Ma prayed to every night never shielded her from Neil’s fists, didn’t do a damn thing as the cancer slowly drained her down to nothing. That sometimes (most times) when someone would call out to the void the only thing they heard in return was their own disappointment. But he's got no other options. This is his trump card. His last resort. If this hocus pocus bullshit doesn’t work then Billy is up shit creek without a paddle. With a frustrated shout against the nightmare pulling him in, Billy begs.

“Please! Fuck, help me! I'll do anything, c’mon just- please!”

The air in Billy’s bedroom all of a sudden seems to shudder. The shadows flicker and meld together, reaching outwards. The sound of dry fall leaves blowing in the wind, a wail of a thousand dying worlds ricochets off the walls. Then nothing. Billy scrunches his eyes shut against the sting of tears. Fuck, of course it didn’t work. Story of his life. He called for help and just like always it doesn't mean shit. No one is coming to save him.

“Well well well. Certainly been a long time since someone summoned me like that. Very old school.”

Billy’s eyes snap open, the surprise and adrenaline enough to fight the heaving weight of his limbs to raise his head. And there, perched on his shitty milk crate shrine, sits the most beautiful boy he's ever seen. He's got hair the color of soil after it rains. High cheekbones and full lips, milky white skin dotted with a constellation of beauty marks. Billy didn't know what he expected but it certainly wasn't this. The boy god is dressed in a swanky leather coat the color of charcoal with pants to match. Eyes like an oil spill, inky black and endless. With a good look at Billy, they narrow dangerously.

“I thought I fucking told you not to touch this world. You want a repeat of last time?”

Whatever deity he summoned looks pissed as hell. Did he not do it right? Maybe the items weren’t good enough. That would be just his luck. He's so confused he almost doesn’t notice it right away. The shadow slowly working it’s way through his body has stopped, retreated a little even.

“I-... I don't know what you’re talking about. Please, there's something wrong with me. Something got put inside of me and I need it out. Please, help me.”

Billy hasn’t begged since his Ma was takin her last breath in that damn hospice bed. Didn't see the point when it always got you nowhere. But now he can't make himself stop. Cuz he's never been this scared before. The things this monster inside him wants him to do. It's so strong, like he’s fighting a steam roller. He's got no hope on his own.

The boy sitting on his best leather jacket stills. Cocks his head to the side slightly, considering. Then those pretty pink lips are spreading out into a gleeful smirk. Slides off the shrine to settle on his knees in front of Billy. Reaches out his hand to cup Billy’s jaw gentle enough it makes him want to cry.

“You can't get a good enough hold of this one can you? Interesting. Tell me trouble maker, what's your name?”

That voice, deep and ethereal, seems to echo from all around him. He can feel it vibrate in his bones. He wants, no, needs to answer.

“Billy. Billy Hargrove.”

The boy smiles now, all gleaming pearly whites. If Billy looks long enough reality starts to flicker. And for just a second all he can see is teeth sharp like knives in a Cheshire grin. There for a moment and gone in a flash. The hand on his jaw tightens just the slightest fraction.

“Well Billy Hargrove. You seem to find yourself in quite the predicament. That parasite sucking on your soul is an old acquaintance of mine. He's one nasty little shit.”

If a brain washing shadow monster could feel indignant he’s pretty sure that’s what's happening now. Whatever was hijacking Billy's mind has curled up somewhere tight, sunk it’s teeth in deep. Cornered like a threatened animal.

“Please, I’ll do anything you want. I can’t… I can’t fight it. It's too much.”

There’s enough tears leakin down his face that it's soaking the front of his shirt. The boy is giving him this look, almost amused. The longer he holds Billy’s jaw the more the monster losses his grip, and Billy is ready to do anything at this point. Because that thing stuck to his brain wants him to find people. Feed it people. Wants Billy to drink all the chemicals in the supply shed at the pool. Told Billy that if he tried to fight it would take Max first and he can't let that happen.

The boy seems to come to a decision, grabs Billy’s hands to help him shakily to this feet. He doesn’t let go even when they’re both standing.

“You know there’s not many who can fight his hold for this long. I'm impressed.”

He steps forward until his chest is practically pressed up against Billy's. He smells like ozone and smoke, bottomless black eyes trained on stormy blue. Reaches up to tangle his fingers into Billy’s curls, sending tingles across his scalp. Smiles wider at the small noise that escapes Billy's throat.

“I'll help you Billy Hargrove. But in return, you have to do something for me.”

Billy's nodding before he can even really register what’s being said. Anything. He'd do whatever this pretty boy asked as long as he keeps touching Billy like this. Gentle, with a reverence no one has ever bothered to show.

“I need you to kick this little shit back into the hole he crawled out of. Can you do that for me Billy? I wanna see how your story pans out trouble maker. Wanna see what you do when someone gives you a chance.”

Billy nods again, breathless. The boy chuckles, the sound saccharine. Like warm honey dripping down his spine.

“Gunna have to use your words baby.”

Billy swallows, the click of his dry throat loud in the warm personal bubble they’ve created.

“Yes. Yeah. I’ll do it. Whatever you want pretty boy, please.”

It comes out a whisper but the boy hears it all the same. The boy smiles bright, pulls Billy forward. Soft warm lips press against his own and Billy is floating. He's never been kissed like this before. Slow and deep, the boy's tongue pressing in to curl and slide. Stuff him full. Billy's shaking for a whole other reason now. Reaches out to grip the boy's coat, cool to the touch where Billy is burning. Fire rushing through his veins, and he's already so close just from this. Whimpers brokenly into the kiss.

The boy pulls him in impossibly closer, slots his thigh between Billy’s legs, pushes up up up. And Billy is right fucking there, grinds down as he swaps spit with an old god in his shitty bedroom with the peeling yellow paint and the door that locks from the outside. Can feel the tell tale tingle spreading behind his navel.

“ ‘m gunna cum! Fuck, more please!” Billy mumbles curses into the kiss, breath hitching as his balls draw tight. The boy smiles against his mouth, yanks his curls back to bite into the meat of his neck and Billy’s gone, pulsing rope after rope of cum into his underwear.

“Oh my- .. Fuuuuuck. Yes! Uhhhnn!” He's panting like a dog as he slumps forward into the boys shoulder. Gentle fingers card through his hair as aftershocks zap up and down his body. A kiss is pressed behind his ear, a soft warmth flooding his core. He can't feel the shadow anywhere.

“So good for me sweet thing. Makes me want to keep you.”

It's said so quiet, like the boy doesn’t intend for it to be heard. Billy presses his face into his neck. There's no heartbeat under the boy's skin.

“You could. I want you to.” Whoever this is, whatever he is, he came for Billy. Answered his literal cry for help when no one else did. He doesn't know what he has to offer but he wants to give this impossible boy everything.

The boy in question hums. Brings Billy's left hand up to kiss the back of it. His skin feels hot under his lips, bordering on uncomfortable. Like stepping on sun scorched pavement. When the boy pulls back there’s a tattoo on his hand. A strange design that looks vaguely like a compass. It's the same mark as the one on the middle of the rune sitting behind them.

“I haven't given my mark to someone quite so special in a while. Try not to disappoint me Billy Hargrove.”

The boy goes to pull away but Billy still has his hand clenched tight on his coat. Panic wells up in his chest. Doesn't want to end whatever this is quite yet.

“Wait! What’s-…what's your name?” Which is a valid question he thinks. And probably one he should have asked at some point before he started grinding his dick on the guys leg. Oh well.

“I've had many names, none if which would hold any significance for you. Call me what you want trouble maker. I'll be there when you need me.”

Billy believes him. Then between one blink and the next the boy is gone, tendrils of dissipating smoke the only evidence he was ever there. A deep voice whispers from nowhere and everywhere.

“Ask your sister about the monsters in the woods.”

On the shrine the only thing that remains is the rune, both his gifts having apparently been accepted. Billy gives a hysterical bark of laughter at the thought of some higher being listening to Fleetwood Mac somewhere out in the void. It gives him an idea. He drags his lips across the fresh mark on his hand, mumbles into his skin.

“Thanks Stevie.”

#i don't know what this is but here ya go!#Outsider!Steve #Billy Hargrove #harringrove #dishonored au #yes Billy gets powers but i haven't decided what they are yet #that hoe writes #stranger things #Neil you better watch out my boy has a literal old god for a boyfriend now

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mandoalorian · 4 years

Text

No Body, No Crime [Dave York x F!Reader]

Summary: When Dave York’s wife expresses her suspicion of him having an affair, you agree to help her gather the evidence to confront him. You believe that if you can prove his infidelity, their marriage will fall apart and you might actually stand a chance with him. But when you follow him out one night, you make a shocking discovery.

Warnings: SMUT, m receiving oral, f masturbation, choking, infidelity, murder

Rating: 18+

Word count: 3000>

Author’s Note: Please consider this my official application of entry to the Dave York pit. This one is quite intense. I’ve never written a thriller type fic before, so I hope it’s okay!

Masterlist

He had to have been cheating. There was no other excuse for sneaking out so late at night, and not returning until the early hours of the morning. His actions radiated infidelity. The only answer was that he was having an affair.

Dave York was the typical suburban dad living the perfect life with the perfect wife and two happy daughters. You would know as you were the York’s housemaid, and had the privilege of living with them. As an insider, it also meant you were a pair of extra spying eyes. And you watched Dave, a lot. It was only a matter of time before Carol caught on and realised something was up. So when she came to you one morning after Dave had set off to work, and the girls were at school, you could already sense her concerns.

If you recalled correctly, it was the fourth time this week he’d snuck out. You remembered last night, sitting by the attic window and watching him drive off into the distance. There was something about it that got you all riled up. You were ashamed to admit it -- but you were more than attracted to Mr. York. Once he was no longer in sight, you closed your eyes and slipped your fingers under the hem of your panties. You let out a puff of air as your digits found your clit and you began to rub tight little circles, squirming around in the wooden chair that you’d been sitting in. It creaked in the midst of the night, but getting so caught up in the moment, you didn’t even care if your movements or whimpers woke Carol up. You imagined Dave burying his cock deep inside you, moaning out your name. It was really bad, you knew that… but the truth is, if Dave wanted to fuck you next, you’d have no qualms. You’d let him. You’d beg him. With your free hand, you clutched the edge of the window sill so hard your knuckles turned white as you felt your body pull to its orgasm.

You stayed by the window for around two and a half hours after that, apprehending his return. If one thing was sure, it was that Dave made an effort to remain unseen. He dressed in all black, even opting to wear a hat to hide his brown locks of hair. You heard the keys jingle as he let himself into the house, this time via the back door because he knew it would be quieter. You heard his footsteps emerge up the stairs. Strangely enough, you heard the washer switch on as he would do his own laundry. In fact, you couldn’t remember the last time you had cleaned Dave’s clothes. Washing his clothes at four in the morning only made him even more suspicious, but you had to applaud his efforts.

“I think Dave is cheating on me,” Carol announced as you finished up doing the dishes. You felt your body stiffen at her tone, before taking a deep breath and turning to face her. She looked exhausted, nursing a cup of coffee and her bleached blonde hair tied into a messy bun. “He’s been… acting different,” she revealed sadly. “He slips out of bed at around one in the morning, every night. He comes back at four-ish, and I pretend to be asleep. But he undresses, and he smells like sweat. We don’t talk much anymore. I don’t think he loves me.” she confirmed, and you could tell she was trying to hold back unshed tears.

“I’m sorry.” was all you could offer her.

She sank down into the dining room chair and held her head in her hands. Carol wasn’t a bad woman -- but you couldn’t bring yourself to empathise with her. She was the lucky one who got to marry Dave in the first place… who got to bring up his two wonderful kids. She got to live in the big suburban house, and she got to drive the expensive family SUV. Clearly, she was struggling. Her suspicions of her husband cheating were eating her alive, and you knew from your own spying that he was certainly up to something. It must have sucked for her, but even if Dave was being unfaithful, she was still living your dream life.

“I think I’m going to call him out,” she confessed with an uneasy shrug of her shoulders. “I have to. I can’t keep living like this. It’s just… I have no evidence. No way to prove it.”

Carol had a point. If she was going to confront him, surely he’d just deny it and get mad. You liked Dave a lot, that much was clear, but maybe… in this scenario… you could be some use to Carol. If you could provide her with the evidence that he was cheating, then their marriage would inevitably fall apart. Then you could harness the chance to steal Dave away for yourself. This could actually work.

“I can help you,” you said suddenly, pulling out the chair opposite Carol and sitting beside her. “I can help you find what you need to expose Dave’s affair.”

Carol furrowed her eyebrows together in bewilderment, and you hoped you hadn’t sounded too excited about the prospect. “How do you plan on doing that?” she asked you with uncertainty.

You hummed, your mind weighing up the possible scenarios. “Uhm… well, next time he sneaks out I can watch him leave... and then I take your SUV and carefully follow him. I’ll try to snap some photos of him getting caught in the act.” you suggested and watched Carol wince at the thought of you seeing him with somebody else. Seriously… were you supposed to feel bad for her? Carol looked unsure but finally she sighed a breath of defeat and nodded her head, agreeing to your plan.

“Okay… but be careful you don’t get caught.” She warned.

“I’ll do it tonight,” you promised. “Don’t worry Carol, let me handle this.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

This time, when the night rolled over, you weren’t in the attic like usual. You were hiding out by the living room window downstairs which gave you quick and easy access to the front door. Once you were satisfied that Dave had driven an ample distance away from the house, you grabbed Carol’s car keys and jogged down the patio to her SUV. You knew the roads would be empty at this time of night, so it shouldn’t be too hard to lose sight of Dave. What would be hard though, is trying to remain unseen by him. Any car out on the roads at two in the morning would be suspicious. You figured you were doing a good job at staying back in the shadows.

To your surprise, Dave began to drive out of town and he headed towards the forest that peppered the outskirts of the little village he lived in. You knew that nobody lived in this area, and so why he was driving this far out was beyond you. Though, it only piqued your curiosity more, and so you continued to follow him.

You parked around ten feet behind him, the car tyres getting stuck in the dirt. You watched as Dave hopped out of his car and swung a black duffel bag over his shoulder. He ventured into the depths of the forest, amongst the tall trees, until eventually he was nowhere in sight. You sat in the driver's seat for a few moments, contemplating what exactly was going on. You didn't expect this at all. You figured that, all this time, he had in fact been driving to a different part of town, letting himself into someone else’s house and having an affair.

Then, the reality that he could still be having an affair struck you. You hopped out of the SUV and turned on your phone’s flashlight, helping you familiarise yourself with your surroundings. Dave’s clunky boots left a trail of footsteps in the mud, thankfully, which meant it was easy enough to track him down. You were making good progress and doing fine until you heard a man scream. And your heart sank in your chest.

The same voice cried out in terror, before another scream followed. Could it be Dave? Was he in danger? Your mind shot to what you believed to be the worst possible case and your light jogging turned into running as you followed the sound. You had to make sure Dave was okay.

As you got closer and closer, you began to hear a squelching noise and a series of grunts and groans. You noticed a figure, on his knees by a large tree trunk -- and evidently, he noticed the way your flashlight had highlighted his body. The masculine figure rose to his feet and dropped the knife to the ground before turning to face you.

It was Dave.

“What are you doing here?” he interrogated, removing his hat and stuffing it into his pocket.

“You… I--... you…” you were speechless, your gaze flicking between Dave and the corpse that he had tied to the tree. The screams you had heard earlier hadn’t come from Dave, but instead had come from the man he just murdered.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He repeated, malice dripping from his tongue. When you didn’t answer, he scoffed incredulously and pulled out a clean knife. He took only a few steps towards you, breaking any distance, and held the silver blade to your neck. The coolness of the metal stung your skin and your gaze fixated on his cold dark eyes in horror. “I’ll ask you one last time,” Dave whispered, his warm breath fanning over your jaw. “Sweet girl, tell me, why are you here?”

“Carol sent me…” you lied. “I didn’t want to. But-- but she thought you were cheating on her. She told me to follow you into the night and see where you ended up.”

“That bitch,” Dave huffed, taking a step back and shaking his head in disbelief. “And you were happy to betray me?”

“No!” you said defensively, your voice raising an octave. “She said if I didn’t, she’d fire me.”

“You should have come to me first.” Dave gritted out, his voice deep and his eyes locked on yours. God, he was hot. If he hadn’t just murdered someone, you’d be all over him.

“I know,” you gulped and made an effort to flutter your eyelashes apologetically. “I was scared.”

“Scared of me?” Dave quizzed, tilting his head and wrapping a gloved hand around the column of your throat. He gave it an experimental squeeze.

“N-no,” you stammered out, biting your lower lip. “Scared of Carol.”

“And now that you know where I’ve been going every night. Now that you know that I’ve been murdering innocents… are you scared of me?” Dave rephrased after a moment of silence.

“No,” you confirmed again but with a shaky exhale. You raised your hand and cupped his cheek. The touch caught him off guard. He wasn’t used to this kind of affection from anyone. “Actually… it turns me on.”

Dave pulled away from you and a wicked smirk crossed his lips. “I never pinned you to be that kind of person.” he revealed, but if the tent in his pants was anything to go off, you knew that he liked it.

“I never pinned you to be a murderer.” you shot back with a sweet moan, licking a hot stripe along his jaw and maneuvering your hand along his broad chest.

Dave let his own gloved hand tangle in your hair before yanking your head back and forcing you to look at him.

“Not a murderer, just a cheater?” he questioned, venom in his tone.

“Mm, I’m sorry.” you whispered, and Dave began to push you down onto your knees.

“Show me,” he hissed, and you hungrily nodded your head.

In the darkness of the night, you began to undo his belt. Pulling it through the loops of his pants, you discarded it to the ground and then started to work at the zipper. You dipped your hand into his pants and pulled out his already hard cock. You couldn’t help but gasp at how heavy it felt in your hands.

You began to pump at his length, your fingers gathering the beads of precum that had dribbled out of his tip. “Let me fuck your mouth.” he commanded. You opened your mouth as wide as you could, preparing yourself for his girth, and stuck out your tongue. Dave chuckled darkly before thrusting his thick cock into your mouth.

His breathing hilted when you wrapped your lips and moaned around him, the noise sending vibrations through his body.

He pushed his entire length into you and then gently began to trace your throat with his index finger. The movements of his hands were achingly soft in comparison to the rough and messy nature of his thrusts. It didn’t take long for you to realise he was actually tracing the bulge that his thick cock had made there, and you gagged around him in response. He doubled back, pulling out of you and only giving you a second to catch your breath before fucking your mouth again.

His speech was slurred and his vision became hazy as he muttered words of degradation. “You little whore, sucking my cock in the middle of a fucking forest at night. Do you like this? Do you like taking my cock in your mouth?”

You could only hum in approval. You felt tears begin to prick at the corners of your eyes and his cock began to throb in your mouth. You knew he was close now. You brought your hands to his balls and began to massage them, and looked up through your lashes at Dave who had tossed his head back, the pleasure consuming him.

Without any warning, Dave came undone, his salty load shooting into your mouth. He brought his hands back down to your head and forced you to swallow him whole. It wasn’t easy, but you managed to do so, relishing his taste. Eventually, he let you pull off him, a mixture of his cum and your saliva creating a trail between his cock and your lips. He grabbed your hand and helped you to your feet before tucking himself back into his pants and zipping himself up.

“Well, I can’t murder you now.” he sighed, rubbing his jaw.

“Do you need me to help you hide the body?” you offered.

“No,” he replied. “I do all my murders in this forest because no one has visited in years. They decompose quickly too. I just leave them to rot.”

It sounded pretty risky, you thought, but evidently, Dave knew what he was doing. He must have been doing this for a long time. “Oh okay…” you mumbled. “I’ll just… head back to the car then.”

You spun around on your heel and took a few steps in the direction you came before you heard Dave call your name. You froze and waited for him to speak.

“I’m going to kill Carol,” he said, the five words echoing amongst the trees around you. “And I need you to be my alibi.”

“M-murder Carol? But why?” you asked, honestly feeling a little uneasy at this point. You trusted Dave, you really did. But Carol had sent you out to try and evidence the fact he was cheating on you. In the past half hour, you’d witnessed her husband murder someone, and then you had proceeded to give him what could quite possibly have been the best blow of his life.

“She thought I was cheating on her,” he said, his voice so quiet it was almost sinister. “She has betrayed my trust.”

You wanted to throw in the fact that he had actually just cheated on her, with you, but you decided that might not have been the best idea. He needed to know that you were on his side. You hadn’t realised the length of time you’d stayed silent for. Clearly, had been too long for Dave’s liking.

“Are you going to betray my trust?” Dave queried and you shook your head ‘no’ profusely. “Good.”

“Good thing I’ve cleaned enough houses in my time to know how to cover up a scene,” you said softly, taking a few steps closer to him. “And it’s a good thing I helped Carol take out a big life insurance policy.” your lips curled into a smile.

“So we do it tonight,” Dave whispered, his thumb grazing the height of your cheekbone. “We go home together, and I’ll kill her. I’ll take her body to the forest and you clean up before daylight.”

“What about the girls?” you couldn’t help but ask.

Dave picked up his belt and the bloodied knife before throwing them haphazardly in his duffle bag. “Good thing they’ll still be living with another, amazing woman that they can look up to once their mother is gone,” he smirked, and you felt your cheeks flush with heat at his words. “I’ll call the cops tomorrow morning and file a missing person’s report for Carol.”

“Will it work?” you wondered out loud.

“Do you trust me?”

Maybe you were foolish, but as you contemplated his words, you realised that you really did trust this suburban murder dad.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Permanent taglist: @paintballkid711 @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja200 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon @cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat @rye-flower @theamuz @persie33 @sleepylunarwolf @martellthemandalor @pedro-pastel @steeevienicks @rrtxcmt @saphic-susperia

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal smut #dave york #dave york x reader #dave york smut

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prose-for-hire · 4 years

Text

The Devil’s in the details

Pairing: Spike x reader

Request: “Satanism for dummies? Interesting choice in books...anything you want to tell me?" And Fluff With spike

Requested by: Anon

Warning: Reader is a killer. They kill a person. For the Devil. Kidnap. Big blood mention. Mention of hiding a body.

A/N: Okay. So it’s not fluffy but I’ve injected some cuddling with Spike into it cos I got carried away with the plot. Hope this is okay anon - I got carried away. I can write you something fluffier (after Halloween) if you want to drop another request... Happy Halloween month !!

It was that time of year again. The yearly struggle where you had to offer a sacrifice to the Dark Lord again to ensure he kept his end of the bargain. Halloween night was circled and underlined in your calendar in thick red pen. Blood red. A coincidence, of course. You sighed, planning out this year’s would be tricky.

You had your boyfriend to think about and people knew you in Sunnydale now, it was hard to keep under the radar. You were practiced in what you needed to do, knowing there was no other way around it. As far as Spike was concerned, you were a sweetheart. A pure, innocent person who wouldn’t so much as look at someone the wrong way.

He was convinced you had never said a swear word and he was equally convinced you would turn to dust if you even attempted it. As far as he was aware, you knew nothing of demons or vampires or anything other than your pleasant life. And this is how you wanted it to stay.

However, Spike had long been trying to find a way to tell you about the supernatural. The Hellmouth. He didn’t want to scare you off, so he had been lying or more avoiding the truth. He wanted to tell you this year though, before Halloween.

You loved him but there were certain things that you would rather he didn’t know about you. For now at least. Especially the fact that you already knew he was a vampire. You smiled at him softly, leaning in and kissing his cheek – a greeting you always gave. He loved it, it was as if he was a husband returning home. He felt cherished by your affection. You never shied away, you wanted him to feel loved. Always.

“Can’t believe it’s been two years and I’ve never so much as had an invitation before, love”

“We did agree Spike – you have your space and I have mine”

“Yeah, but all your crap is in my space” he raised his voice an octave higher to cement his point, “Most men would have left over it, y’know” he added, pointing at you for emphasis.

“Then I’m very lucky to have such an understanding and kind boyfriend” You smiled, squeezing his hand before letting go, “God, your hands are always so cold”

“It’s my condition, love. Anaemia – always, uh, makes me cold” he muttered, not convincing anyone. But you just nodded along, smiling.

Spike had always meant to tell you but had never found the time. Besides, you had your own secrets (he wasn’t stupid he just didn’t suspect the truth) so he didn’t feel so bad about lying. Most of the time.

It was finally Halloween. You knew the drill. Spike would stay in and you would go where you were directed. You woke up to the same mysterious name written on a piece of paper you always did. It was the kind that would combust when you fulfilled your end of the bargain.

You walked up to the bar to order your drink, reading the nametag and smiling. This was getting easier every year. It almost made it difficult to feel the guilt anymore. You spent your evening talking to him, waiting until his break before you managed to subdue him and bring him back to your apartment. Usually, hitting them over the head and dragging them into the boot of your car seemed to work. Your neighbours were usually out and if anyone stopped you, you explained it was an elaborate costume.

You were sat watching a gory horror film with the volume up high as you waiting for your new bartender friend to wake up from his little nap. He was propped up on the couch beside you. You had zip tied his hands and feet but you weren’t so cruel that you would cover his mouth.

He finally started to come around as the humorous film started to get good. You shrugged, you were sure you could rent it for some light-hearted entertainment another day. They never quite got it right anyway. The blood was never the right colour.

He opened his eyes and started to yell. You hushed him and helped him regulate his breathing until he calmed down. When he eventually calmed down you explained the situation calmly, “So, listen, you’re gonna die tonight. But it’s for a really good reason so, at least there’s that” You nod along with yourself, smiling sweetly as his eyes widened in horror, “Okay I have to do a little ritual now that you’re awake just uh, stay still”

You got up, switching off the tv and lighting the red candles that had already been arranged in a circle on your coffee table. An ornate knife was in the middle of the circle. You closed your eyes, chanting some well-practiced verses. You motioned your arms slowly and you felt the warmth in the room dial up. The familiar crackle of flames started to sound around you.

You took the knife from the centre and awkwardly helped the man up, before slicing the blade across his throat. The liquid oozes from his wound and he started to sink to his knees, his blood splattering everywhere.

“Fuck, not on the rug!” You looked horrified, “What is wrong with you?! Over the chalice!” you hissed as if it was the poor man’s fault. You grabbed the chalice and held it under his neck, trying to

The man slowly lost his life as you took the most important part for yourself. His blood. You sighed, rolling your eyes at his crumpled form as his blood soaked into your now ruined rug.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock on your door. Shit.

You slip your clothes off and grab the nearest items of fresh clothes so you could go to the door. In your haste, you almost slip on the pooling blood as you make your way to the door.

“What?!” you shouted, scowling at the visitor before you realised who it was, “Oh, Spike! Hi. It’s Halloween… you said you stay in on Halloween in case of the cute kids wanting candy”

“I said that-?” He questioned, before he caught a distinct smell of something he knew well. His stomach rumbled to confirm his suspicions, “What’s going on? I can smell-”

“Smell what?” You ask innocently. He squinted, before shrugging. It must be a different apartment in the block.

“Uh, nothing, can I come in?”

“I’m actually pretty busy… I’m, uh, I’m… baking” You said. Nobody, especially not yourself, was convinced by that excuse. But Spike just smiled slightly and nodded before asking once more, “Look, I need to come in. It’s… important. I gotta tell you somethin’ or my damned head will explode” he gestured at his head as he shook it, “Can I come in?” he pressed once more.

“Uh…” You look at the mess behind you that you’re concealing from his view by the door, “Just… give me time to clean the place up. I’ll be… 10 minutes” You muttered, slamming the door in his face and putting the lock on – just in case.

You clean the best you can, using so much bleach you were worried you would pass out. You sigh. Every year you tell yourself to put plastic sheeting down and every year you forget and end up ruining an item of furniture you were fond of. That was the real sacrifice you had to make, you sighed again as you rolled the poor man up in the rug and pulled him away. You found him a spot to rest in your tub. Hopefully Spike wouldn’t pick today to use the bathroom. The rug and the bleach all thrown in there too.

The blood now up the best it could be, you manage to find a roll of cookie dough to put in the oven. You sweep all of your occult stuff into a box and hid it under your bed and cram the rest into the cupboards.

You had been twenty five minutes, but hoped Spike just presumed that you were house proud.

“I like your place, pet. Spotless” he said perusing the area. He smiled, it smelled of you and… cleaning products. Bleach. Oh, and cookies he smiled. He hoped that you would let him have some later on.

They say love is blind, and Spike was completely head over heels in love with you. So much so, he could only note the smell of cookie dough and you and didn’t think to question the smell of the blood that had been thinly masked by bleach.

He then eyed something on the coffee table that you had set down during the heavy-duty cleaning, “Satanism for dummies? Interesting choice in books...anything you want to tell me?" He joked, a slight smile as he started to flip through it. You grinned back, trying to conceal the fact that you were wiping beads of sweat from your brow when he looked up by scratching your scalp.

“It’s for Halloween – they were handing them out at the… mall”

“Uh, sit down pet” he said, sitting down in the same spot your previous guest had, “I need to… there’s somethin’ I need to say” he started to explain. He had chosen now to reveal who he really was. The fact that he was a vampire. He insisted he loved you and that it wouldn’t change anything between you.

You gasp, perhaps over exaggeratedly but you were actually surprised that he would choose now to tell you. You of course knew about demons and you were unsure if he was telling you this so he could take a bite from the body in your bathroom tub.

“I mean it – I’m… a vampire” He showed you his game face, taking your shock for disbelief. You cup his cheek gently, insisting this would never make a difference. You traced your thumb over his features and he closed his eyes at your touch.

“I will always love you. No matter what” You insisted, leaving a chaste kiss against his lips. He nodded slowly, smiling at your insistence. You caressed him softly, hoping he could feel the sincerity of your actions. You honestly weren’t scared of him. Or repulsed. You felt so deeply for him. You held him close to you as he flipped on the tv. You both settled into the sofa, stroking through his hair softly as he closed his eyes and leaned into you. You kissed his temple and whispered your continued affirmations. That you would never leave him. That you could never stop loving him.

You heard something and cast an eye to the kitchen, which you could see from your living space. The familiar figure you met every Halloween was there. The Devil.

You smiled, winking at the Devil as he took his offering as if he were Santa sneaking in on Christmas night. He smirked, drinking from the cup and wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He clapped his hands and left which you caught from your peripheral vision.

You smiled warmly. It was all worth it. You were satisfied as you snuggled into Spike’s now open arms, you would keep the love of an immortal for another year at least.

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inkandpen22 · 4 years

Text

Shared Minds and Shared Souls (2/?)

Pairing: Spike x Female!Reader

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fighting, mentions of violence

Word Count: ~2.6k

Part Summary: Y/N is starting to get used to her role in the Summers’ house and with the Scoobies in the days following her arrival in Sunnydale. Much to her surprise, she enjoys predictability of her new routine and the normalcy of it. That is until a troublesome figure in Sunnydale makes his acquaintance and knocks Y/N through an unforeseen loop.

Masterlist

Aunt Joyce being surprised to see me is an understatement. It took Buffy and I both pressing her back down on the hospital bed to keep her from leaping up. Then, she thanked me up and down for coming. Which lead to her insisting she’s fine. She’s been covering at the hospital the last few days, but now she’s finally home. Her surgery went well, thank God! With everything going on, Joyce needs to be well. I don’t think Buffy could take another blow and poor Dawnie needs her mom. I know what it’s like to lose a mother, not fun. It’s Buffy and I’s goal to keep life as normal as possible for Dawn. The routine is I drop Dawnie off at school while Buffy plays Slayer. Then, I come back here and take care of Joyce. From there, I pick up Dawnie and prep dinner. In truth, I’m liking the predictable schedule. It’s odd, I thought I’d hate it here. I’ve never been the sort for the mundane lifestyle, but I haven’t been around family in years and it’s nice.

While I prepare lunch for Joyce, I listen to the rock station through the boombox they keep on the counter. The house has been rather quiet since Buffy and the other Scoobies have been out doing researching Glory. Giles’s Magic-Box shop is their headquarters. Well, here and there, sort of double at meeting spots. Whenever the house is this quiet, I have to have music or the tv playing in the background. Otherwise, everything gets all noisy. Sunnydale has so much pent up energy, both good and evil, that it messes with my head. All I hear are the voices in the silence, so many voices that it starts to sound like static. I have mentioned this Buffy, I wouldn’t want to stress her anymore.

My peace is abruptly disturbed as the kitchen door swings open and someone flies in hiding under a blanket. I jump, dropping my knife on Joyce’s sandwich. Smoke radiates from the figure like they’re a walking fire pit. Tilting my head, I watch in awe as a bleached haired man struggles to shut the door, knocking around the blinds. Who the hell is he? He dramatically flails his arms around to get the blanket off with a huff. Instantly, I see the green aura glowing around him. His eyes meet mine with a tilt of the head like a confused puppy dog, granted I did it too.

“Who in the bloody hell are you?” He curses sassily.

His accent is enough information to tell me who he is, Spike. So, this is the pain in the ass, psychotic vampy who is tangled up in a love-hate relationship with my cousin. She’s all caught up on Riley, Mr. G.I. Joe, when she has this dude pining after her? Boy, Buffy needs my guidance in more than one department.

“Good afternoon to you too, Spike,” I greet him by name, much to his surprise.

Cautiously, he moves into the kitchen as I continue about my business. “How do you know my name? Where’s Buffy?” He asks, peaking around the house for her.

“Don’t worry,” I assure him calmly. “Army Barbie is with her team of misfit toys working on Glory stuff.”

Before I have the chance to blink, Spike is across the room has me pinned against the fridge. His face scrunched and his fangs daunting. While gripping my neck until I can hardly breathe, he leans forward and presses his body to mine to keep in place. I struggle in his grip, clawing as his hands. “You’re Glory, aren’t you?! Hm?! Messing with me?! What did you do to Buffy?!” He shouts.

“Spike,” I choke. “You have to-” I gasp for air as he squeezes tighter.

As a psychic, every time I have skin to skin contact with someone I can enter their mind and memories. It’s like watching a montage of someone’s entire existence. The recipient relives the memories too at the same pace as me. This allows them to kick me out if they so wish, all they have to do is realize what’s going on. However, like being in a dream, it’s rare that they do. I have little control when it comes to entering, it’s like falling. If I wish to leave, it takes a kick, like waking up from a dream. I have to be terrified by a memory or experience immense pain, those are the usual triggers.

The moment Spike touched me, he opened the gate for me to see, feel, and hear everything he ever has in the form of visions. I can feel my mind slipping and images begin to flash before my eyes like bursts of light. Then, my vision goes black...

A woman in 19th century clothing stands before with big eyes and brown hair. She’s so beautiful.... Suddenly, a pain pierces my neck.

Next thing I know, I’m sat on an old blood soaked sofa with a dead woman in my lap, bleeding from the neck. I feel hungry for more.

“My wicked, wicked, Willy,” Dru purrs, peering up at me from her position on the floor with longing eyes. I shove the body off of me and crawl to her. God, I love her.

I jump through time, landing in the middle of a fight with a young Chinese woman who I recognize as the Slayer. I manage to grab her and bite her viciously. She mutters something in Chinese to me.

“Sorry Love, I don’t speak Chinese,” I state, tossing her to the side.

Then, on a subway trained with a later slayer. I’m on top of her, gripping her neck as I twist it, killing her. For good measure, I steal her leather coat. I’m quite fond of it.

I hover over the most recent Slayer, and perhaps the most annoying one, Buffy Summers. I raise the plank of wood in my hands to kill her. Suddenly, I’m hit over the head and fall to the floor.

With a jolt, I’m back in the present moment. “Jesus and Mary!” I yelp, the back of my head throbbing. What the hell did Joyce wack me with? Or should I say Spike.

The vampire stands before me wide-eyed, confused by what just happened. Having had enough reminiscing, I press my hands around his that grip my neck and send a powerful shock, causing him to drop me to the floor. I cough as I catch my breath. God, I can see why Buffy doesn’t like him! Spike recovers quickly and picks me up by my hair. I scream at the surge of pain and dig my nails in his hands. Soon, I’m against the wall and I bump my head.

“Where are they?!” He barks in my face. “Tell me or I’ll kill you!”

“If I were Glory and I had taken Buffy, how would killing me help you find her?” I question his logic amongst the fighting. For being over a hundred years old, he’s not exactly wise.

Spike growls, not finding humor in my mockery. I’m not exactly threatened by the big-bad-bleach-crazy ole chap with the winkley-vampy face. I could have him on his undead ass in two seconds if I wanted.

“Spike!” Joyce’s voice interrupts our altercation. Both of us turn our attention to the archway to see my aunt standing there in horror. She wraps her robe around herself tightly. “Let Y/N down! She’s my niece!”

“Oh bollocks!” Spike swears, releasing me instantly.

I fall to the floor on my knees again. Well, this fun- what’s wrong with people in this town?!

“I… uh…” Spike stumbles over his words as he helps me up by the bicep. He brushes down my shirt and hair nervously. “Sorry about that. I thought-”

“You thought I was Glory,” I finish for him, slapping his hands off of me.

“Are you okay, Y/N?!” Joyce checks worriedly, staying cautiously in the archway between here and the living room.

I hum, reaching up and running my fingers through the back of my head for any bumps or bleeding. Whatever she hit Spike with it fucking hurt!

“Did I hurt you?” Spike asks, sounding genuinely concerned.

“Not really,” I admit quietly and look to my aunt who’s the real reason my head is pounding. “If you ever hearing banging like that, never come downstairs! You hide!” I command of her. “Even if it did sound like I was getting murdered,” I grumble, glaring at Spike.

“Well, as long as you’re alright. I’ll head back up,” she complies quietly. “But only if you’re sure!” She checks.

“I’m fine, really!” I try to ease her nerves. It’s not good for her to worry. I shove Spike out of the way to approach her. “I’ll bring your food up soon. I might have to remake it,” I tell her as I spot her sandwich on the floor behind Spike.

“You don’t have to do that,” she insists.

“It’s okay! If you can wait one moment, I’ll just use some magic,” I announce, holding out my hand toward the counter. I conjure up a turkey sandwich just like I created before. I could’ve whipped one up this way earlier, but I was enjoying the task. “There you go!” I hand the plate over to my aunt.

Spike blinks rapidly, stepping forward to stand beside my aunt. He stares at me in astonishment, “you’re a witch?!”

“No, that shock you felt earlier was all in your head,” I sass, looking at him like an idiot.

“You didn’t tell me there were witches in your family,” he says to Joyce, sounding offended.

“We didn’t know ourselves until Y/N arrived a few days ago. She’s here to help out until I’m all better and… well…” Joyce shifts on her feet uncomfortably. “That Glory girl is gone.”

On that note, Joyce thanks me one last time and heads back upstairs. I relax once I hear her shuffling upstairs in her room. Taking a scan around the kitchen, there are broken plates and food scattered across the floor. I was so far into Spike’s head that I missed the reality and all the ruckus. Of course, I felt his hands around my neck, but my vision was impaired with his memories.

“Let me clean up,” Spike requests, already squatting to pick up the bits of broken porcelain on the tile.

“No need,” I state with a flick of the wrist. Within seconds, all the broken plates and scattered food is gone. The boombox that we’d knocked on the floor and caused to skip is now all fixed neatly on the counter. Soon, Nirvana is coming out of it without a problem.

Spike rises from his position quietly starring at the perfectly spotless kitchen. I move around him toward the living room, already thinking of the next item on my agenda. I still have a few loads of laundry to go through and there’s cleaning that needs to be done. If I set those going with some magic before I head out everything will be done before Buffy’s birthday party tonight. Except, one issue, in this town, I don’t feel comfortable dividing up my power in case of an emergency. I could be attacked on the way to Dawnie’s school with the track record of this town. Plus, I’m Joyce’s sole bodyguard during the day, I need all my energy.

“Hey wait,” Spike calls as he jogs to block my path. He holds up his hands as if that’s going to keeping me from walking away.

With raised brows, I wait for the important reason he must have to be interrupting my to-do list.

Wait... ew, I hate that! I have a to-do list! What am I, a 1950’s housewife?

“Are you honestly Buffy and Dawn’s cousin?” He asks, still not convinced that it’s possible for the Summers’ to have family other than each other.

“No,” I answer calmly, causing him to perk up. “I’m really Dolly Parton in a disguise!” He rolls his eyes, muttering curses under his breath. “You know, the rumor is the blonde hair is a wig,” I ramble to add more spice to the sarcasm. “And she just walks around Tennessee without anyone noticing her!”

“Yep, you’re definitely related,” he determines unenthused, stepping aside.

“I’m glad I’ve convinced you. Now if you don’t mind, I have stuff I need to do!” I step around him to head out and pick up Dawn.

“I’m coming too,” he declares, following on my heels.

I snicker, stopping in my tracks. “You’re coming with me to pick up Dawn from school? In the daylight... ” I add.

“Yeah uh… just meet me at the crypt,” he decides, already heading back to the kitchen.

“Wait, what?” I blurt out as I grab his wrist. “Why would I do that?”

He glances over his shoulder, “I came to show Buffy something, but you’ll do I guess.”

“I’m not Buffy though, I’m no Slayer,” I laugh lightly. “If it’s important I’d show it to her.”

“You’re a witch, aren’t you?” He asks the obvious.

“Well yeah,” I shrug.

“Can you fight?” He continues, clearly leading somewhere.

I stutter, “I mean I know spells and-”

“Then you’ll do,” he declares. “We can tell Buffy about it later,” he adds, walking away.

Buffy is made for this, literally! Unsure of myself, I shake my head. “Spike, I-”

The vampire rolls his head back with a huff of annoyance. “All you God-forsaken women!” He groans under his breath. “I swear, one of these days I’m just going to lose my patience and kill all of you,” he sasses, facing me. “Except Joyce... and maybe Nibblet,” he determines as if that’s generous of him. “But definitely Harmony and that bloody annoying Cordelia if she ever comes back from LA!” He points at me sharply. “And you missy are testing me too!”

Um, excuse him! He didn’t not just say that to me! “Oh buddy, you’re testing me!” I laugh mockingly. Little vampy here has another thing coming if he thinks he can threaten me.

Spike chuckles wickedly and his face changes back to vampy style. He growls to reveal his fangs. I step back cautiously. I didn’t mean for him to take me literally! Abruptly, he comes charging at me. Oh great, not again!

_____________________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream

#spike #btvs #fanfic #spikexreader #dawn summers #buffy #buffy summers #buffy s5 #spike fanfic #spuffy #spike x buffy #spike x reader #btvs imagine #btvs fanfic

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memxntomxri · 3 years

Text

ｏｎｅｄａｙ

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ʜᴏᴍᴇ

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 - kuroo tetsurou x kozume kenma

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 - angst

𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤 -

dear tetsurou, i wish i had the courage to kiss you that night on the dorm roof, you know? or, kuroo wants to love kenma, but kenma won't let him because he knows he's leaving kuroo behind

written for kuroken week 2021 - day 1: domestic/college au/"sorry i didn't kiss you" - bubble gum by clairo

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 - 1.5k

𝘵𝘸 - su!cide, depression, anxiety attacks, generally horrible mental health, h0mophobia, one slightly gory scene (they’re watching horror), really bad anime references

𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴 - straight up angst, also REALLY dark. DO NOT READ IF YOU CAN'T HANDLE STRAIGHT ANGST

｡o°✥✤✣ 　　 ✣✤✥°o｡

Dear Kuroo,

If you’re reading this, I’ll be gone, and I’ll be finally fulfilling your wish for me to use your first name

I wish I had kissed you that night on the dorm roof, you know?

The wind whipped around the two of them, biting into their coats and making Tetsurou’s hair even messier, if the bedhead gods would even allow that. Kenma wheezed like a broken record as he trudged up the last few steps, groaning as he collapsed next to Tetsurou on the ice-cold concrete, breath coming out in short, panting puffs.

“Why are we here, Kuroo?” he asked tiredly.

“Kenma, look! We can see the entire city from here! I come up here to think sometimes, or when I can’t sleep.” Tetsurou exclaimed.

As Kenma sat up from his prone position on the floor, he caught sight of the twinkling lights of Tokyo. It truly was beautiful, like jewels spilling out of a child’s toy box and catching on an ethereal light millions of kilometers away.

Tetsurou turned to look at Kenma, and the slight movement caused a bit of air to breeze through Kenma’s hair. He realized that they were oh-so-close, close enough that he thought he could count the individual eyelashes, as numerous as the stars, close enough that he could lean in and…

Kenma turned away, and for a moment, Tetsurou’s heart dropped. But then, Kenma’s soft voice filled the air.

“Not like this, Kuroo.”

Tetsurou backed up. For Kenma, he would wait forever.

He didn’t know how literal that would become.

I’m sorry I’m so selfish. I wish I could’ve let you go, let you move on, but I have so many things I wish I could’ve said to you.

Do you know that the day I knew I was in love with you, it wasn’t anything special? I know that I always say that I want something “interesting” and that boring isn’t for me, but that day, we were doing the most mundane things.

It was the time we binged the horror movies and you were screaming the entire time. Do you remember? Do you remember how I held your hand, even though I was tired? Do you remember how I ignored my parent’s calls?

Do you remember how you smiled at me?

Tetsurou plopped down on the couch. “KYANMAAAAAA!” he called into the kitchen, where the bleached-hair male was making popcorn for their horror movie night. “It’s about to start, come on!”

From the other room, Kenma sighed. “Kuroo, you’re the one who insisted that we ‘had to have’ popcorn for horror movie night,” he said as he walked into the room carrying an overflowing bowl of said snack.

Without replying, Tetsurou grabbed an overflowing handful of popcorn and stuffed it into his mouth. Kenma sniffed. “Have some manners and stop eating like a 19th century barbarian, won’t you?”

Tetsurou rolled his eyes and patted the spot next to him. “Come on, Kenma! I even got your favorite blanket.” Kenma reluctantly sat down next to him, closer than he probably should have if he had wanted to keep his distance.

As the movie progressed, Tetsurou got increasingly louder and closer to Kenma, ending up clutching Kenma’s arm as a clown jumped out of nowhere and blood sprayed all over the screen. Suddenly, the suspenseful atmosphere was broken by the insistent ringing of Kenma’s phone. Kenma glanced at the screen, then put it on silent.

Tetsurou peeked at the device. “Hey, aren’t those your parents? Don’t you have to pick it up?”

“Nah.” Kenma replied shortly.

Tetsurou’s face broke out in a radiant smile, one that was genuine and looked like warm honey and bright days laying in sunflower fields.

“You know you looooove me, Kenma!”

He hoped there was some truth behind those words.

I’m grateful to the universe for pulling us together, even though sometimes I wish they hadn’t.

If we had never met that day in lab, I wouldn’t have stayed so long and let myself be broken more.

And you wouldn’t be hurting now.

I’m sorry, Tetsurou.

Tetsurou’s ears perked up as he heard an emphatic curse word filled his ears. Oya? What was this? He glanced over and caught sight of a boy with bleached hair and dark roots growing out shaking his hand. Oh wow, cute. Wait, what?

Tetsurou knew he was bisexual, but he’d never had this reaction so soon after just seeing someone for the first time. Whatever. The boy probably needed help anyways, and Tetsurou was just this kind.

He sidled up next to him. “Need some help?” he asked.

The boy glanced up at him in shock and actually hissed. “I’m doing fine just the way I am.”

Tetsurou put his hands up in a gesture of surrender, “Hey, just offering. Also, that isn't sodium. Kuroo Tetsurou, by the way.”

In the end, Tetsurou ended up helping Kenma the entire class, even through the smaller boy’s (half-hearted) protests.

He also figured out why Kenma intrigued him so much.

Hey, don’t beat yourself up for this, okay? It was inevitable.

You helped me so much, Tetsurou. Even though it hurt to stay for so long, I also saw so many beautiful things with you. Thanks to you, I was happy before I had to leave.

If you’re still not convinced, do you remember that day when Akane wouldn’t stop trying to touch me?

That was just one of so many times you saved me, Tetsurou.

Tetsurou ran after Kenma, calling his name (softly, he knew Kenma could be set off by noises sometimes). There was a girl in Kenma’s group in Business Management class, and she couldn’t seem to take a hint, always trying to toss an arm around his shoulders or tug him somewhere.

(Tetsurou did all that, but he knew that if Kenma actually didn’t want him to, he’d know by now.)

He found the smaller boy crouched in an empty classroom, arms over his head. “Hey, hey, Kenma. It’s okay. She’s gone now.” he said gently, kneeling down next to him.

“Can I touch you?” Tetsurou asked tentatively.

When he got no response, just a blank stare and tears running down Kenma’s face, Tetsurou sat down next to him, leaving a careful distance between the two of them.

“You know, I saw this new game at the electronics store the other day.” he said, trying to distract Kenma. “I think it’s the newest version of Mario Kart? If you want to, we can go pick it up this Friday then spend the entire Saturday playing.”

Still no response. Kuroo tried another tactic.

“I’ll buy you apple pie…” he attempted bribing.

“K-Kuroo?” came a muffled, broken voice next to him.

“Yes, kitten?” Kuroo asked, immediately attentive.

“Can you just… hold me?”

“Of course.”

That day, Tetsurou resolved to never let Kenma face anything alone again.

I told my parents about you. We both know how well that went. There’s a box of things from my childhood that I want you to have. They’ll mail it to your dorm.

There are so many things I wish that we could have done together that we never will. The first of those is that I wish I could have brought you home to my parents, but that’s not possible.

Did I ever tell you what they said that day?

Tetsurou paused outside of Kenma’s dorm room, apple pie in hand. He hadn’t dropped by in a week - finals were a bitch - and had planned to surprise Kenma with some of his favorite dessert as an apology for flaking on their weekly horror movie night.

The sound of his name paused Tetsurou in his tracks.

“Mom, I swear, Kuroo-san isn’t like that - and even if it was, it’s got nothing to do with you.”

“M- Oh, Dad. Dad ! Uh-huh.”

“I’ve told you before, hanging out with a bisexual person who I might like will not turn me any gayer.”

“Mom, please, you’ll like him, he’s nice, has a great sense of humor - he’ll talk volleyball with Dad, Mom, can you please just try to listen?”

The sound of a phone hitting a wall.

Even though we never got to be together, thank you for the memories, Tetsu.

I hope you didn’t have to see me in the end.

Cold, so cold.

Why was his hand so cold?

Deft, agile, flying across a screen-

Alone.

Left alone, both searching for a way to pick the broken pieces up.

Why, why, why?

Why didn’t you tell me?

Why didn’t you let me help?

Why now?

Why, why, why?

Why wasn’t I enough?

Because I love you, so much that I know that you deserve someone who can give you all of themself, not the jagged edges and fragmented pieces that I would’ve handed over without a second thought if I had stayed.

One day, I hope we can meet again when I’m good enough for you.

I love you, Kuroo Tetsurou.

Kenma.

The two of them laid in a field of flowers, heads turned toward each other and bodies curled so that they looked like two sides of a heart, reaching for each other, yet with a gap that felt like a million light years separating them.

“Hey, Kuroo…”

“Yeah?”

“Nothing.”

I really tried.

｡o°✥✤✣ 　　 ✣✤✥°o｡

#haikyuu angst #haikyuu fandom #haikyuu!!#kuroken #kenma kozume #kozume kenma #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x kenma #kurokenweek #kurokenweek2021

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

Close To You

[UK Tour]

i needed some Momward, so i wrote some Momward. enjoy the Momward.

Word count: 1792

-----------------

It was an accident. Joan swore to Howard up and down that she hadn’t meant it, but that didn’t erase Howard’s need to discuss the incident. Joan didn’t seem to see the point and avoided her ex-queen like the plague until she was finally cornered three days later in the break room. For once, her caffeine addiction was a blessing, at least for Howard.

“K-Katherine,” Joan breathed out shakily. Her hands have already started to quiver, even though Howard only just got inside. Though, her muscles, size, and the way she shut the door behind her may have been a little intimidating.

“I just want to talk.” Howard said, harmlessly holding her hands out in front of her. It was like she was trying to tame a wild animal or something, and Joan may as well have been one with that threatened look on her face.

“I-if this is about what happened on Monday, th-then I’m really, really sorry, Katherine.” Joan said, like all the other times, always apologizing for the most minor of inconveniences. “I-I didn’t-- I don’t know what happened. I-I just-- I don’t know. S-something c-came over me a-and--”

Howard set a hand on her shoulder and Joan shut up instantly with a tiny squeak. Her eyes were absolutely massive and filled with so much fear.

“A-are you going to hit me?” Joan asked quietly.

The question came like a punch to the stomach. Howard actually recoiled away slightly, blinking in disbelief.

“What? No! Joan, no, I’m not going to hit you!” She said. “Why would you ever think that?”

Joan shrugged and looked away. Howard could practically see the painful anxiety clawing up and down her insides.

“Joan, honey, I’m not mad at you.” Howard told her.

“But you’re disappointed?” Joan guessed.

“No. I’m not.” Howard said. “Why would I be disappointed in you?”

“B-because I--” Joan shut her mouth and tried to look anywhere else but the queen in front of her. Cold sweat was now beaded on her forehead and she looked much paler than she usually did.

“Honey,” Howard sighed, and Joan actually flinched away from her as if she had actually spit acid on her face. “Joan, I need you to take a breath for me. I think you may be having an anxiety attack.”

“I’m sorry,” Joan whispered in a tight, strangled voice that just confirmed Howard’s suspicions. “I-I didn’t mean to, Katherine, I-I really didn’t--”

Howard slowly lowered Joan to the floor. It wasn’t the most ideal place to have an anxiety attack, but Howard would be a little less concerned if Joan weren’t on her feet in case she may faint.

“Joan, you don’t need to apologize,” Howard said.

“B-but it was weird. And embarrassing. And pathetic and--” Joan coughed, and lightning bolts of worry zigzagged through Howard.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” Howard instructed, rubbing Joan’s back firmly. “Come on, Joan. It’s okay. Just breathe.”

Joan looked at her, then nodded, sucking in a shaky breath. After a moment, she began to fall into a rhythm of steady breathing, although her entire body continued to quake.

“Good girl,” Howard praised. She reached out and brushed some hair out of Joan’s face, and that touch alone was enough to make Joan lean into it hungrily.

They seemed to notice this at the same time because Joan was jerking away so hard she nearly knocked herself over a second later.

“Oh god,” Joan muttered, eyes wide in horror. “I-I did it again. I’m so sorry, Katherine, I’m so, so sorry!”

Howard frowned. She remembered what happened three days ago, when Joan nuzzled her cheek against the hand she rested on her shoulder, and realized that Joan really was as touch starved as she had been speculating. The girl once again pressing into such a simple touch proved it all.

“Joan, what was your family like?” Howard asked.

Joan was taken aback slightly. “I-I--” She floundered for a moment. “They weren’t--there. They left. I don’t even remember their names.”

That explained a lot.

“I don't really have a family,” Joan mumbled. “I mean, I’ve got--” She paused, looked up as if in thought, then shook her head. “No, nevermind. Don’t have them.”

“What about the other Ladies?” Howard pressed, growing more and more concerned by the second.

Joan smiled at her sadly. “Nope.” She said. “Not even them. I live alone, so that probably explains it.”

Howard stared at her contemplatively. It then cleared with a smile as she grasped Joan’s shoulder and said breezily, “I’ll be your family, then.”

This time, it was Joan’s turn to stare, and she did so like a snowy owl that was just grabbed out of midair.

“What?” Joan’s voice came out in a husky whispered.

Howard continued smiling at her blithely, as though it was normal to offer your coworker and ex-lady in waiting a family. “Why not? I mean, already got five other queens and a bassist who bleaches her hair for fun, so why not add one more to the bunch?”

Joan shifted. The repressed excitement that had been glowing in her wide eyes dulled slightly at that. Howard saw her disbelief and carried on, “I like challenges. Especially those who’re kinda lacking in the love department.” She nudged Joan playfully and the girl just about burst into tears.

Wait, no-- She was just actually tearing up.

“Are you alright?” Howard asked softly, ducking her head to meet Joan’s gaze,

Joan, clearly unable to speak without her voice wavering, nodded stubbornly, but the damage had been done. Tears were flowing down her cheeks rapidly, no matter how hard she scrubbed at her eyes.

“Oh, honey,” Howard murmured. “Do you want a hug?”

Joan shook her head, but Howard could practically see her skin crawling with ache. The poor thing’s body craved affection. It was a primal instinct, one ingrained in human history.

Joan folded her arms into herself, crushing the fabric of her jacket, and shook her head. Howard knew she wanted to, but she was scared of embarrassing herself again.

“No.” Joan said hoarsely.

Howard just waited patiently.

“No.” Joan shook her head much more. The tears are coming down much faster, now. Her body screamed with intense sorrow and longing.

“Sweetheart.”

Joan succumbed.

With a muffled sob, she slowly opened her arms and did desperate grabby hands (which, by the way, were the cutest things Howard has ever seen before) and Howard swooped in, enveloping her in her embrace. Joan dug her nails into the fabric of the queen’s shirt as though clinging for dear life. And she may as well been, Howard thought, because letting go seemed like a death sentence to Joan at this point.

Howard cooed to Joan softly. When she began to run her fingers through Joan’s white-blonde locks, the girl let out a sob and leaned into the hand. Worry set like a heavy stone inside Howard’s stomach.

“You’re touch starved, aren’t you?” Howard said softly. She leaned Joan back slightly so she could look at her face and Joan instantly whimpered in distress at the loss of the embrace. She stroked her cheek with the back of her fingers to calm her and Joan pressed into that, too, eyelids fluttering shut. “Has no one really touched you?”

Joan opened her eyes to look at her and she shrugged before closing them again. “There was my brother,” She said. “But it’s been a really long time and he wasn’t the same as...as this…”

Howard wondered how this girl had gone on for so long without any sort of affection, verbal or physical. She looked down at Joan, nuzzling against her hand like a kitten seeking warmth (and practically purring like one, too), and felt a swell of fierce protectiveness well up inside of her.

“I care about you,” She said fondly.

Joan stiffened. Then, a moment later, she’s shoving Howard in the chest.

“Katherine, stop it.” She growled, though her voice was small and shaky.

Howard pulled her back into her arms, meeting little resistance. “I mean it, Joan.” She cupped the back of Joan’s head and tucked it underneath her chin. Joan doesn’t fight that, either, and Howard knew how badly she needed this touch.

“No, you don’t.” Joan said anyway. “You say you care and you’ll welcome me, only to leave again. Everyone always leaves. I’ve always been left behind. I’ve always been alone. Don’t - don’t say things you don’t mean."

“But I do mean it.” Howard sits up and grabs her shoulders.

“B-but I’m clingy, Katherine,” Joan said miserably. “I’m never going to stop following you around now. I’m always going to be seeking your approval and love and affection. You’re going to get tired of me.”

“No I won’t.”

“Yes you will.” Joan sobbed. “I’ve seen it happen before, Katherine! First my brother, then my husband. I just wanted love. All the time. And not the kind her wanted. I just wanted to be held and needed and--” She whimpered weakly. “He would get mad at me because I would always be following him around, but that didn’t change anything. And then there was also the thing with Henry when I got so desperate and--”

“Wait-- The what with Henry?”

“I-it doesn’t matter,” Joan stammered, and Howard made a mental note to ask her about that later. “It’s gonna happen again, Katherine. I know it. I-I always lose people. I’m always alone.”

“Not anymore.” Howard said firmly. “Never again, Joan. I’ll hold you, alright?”

Joan looked up at her, sniffling. “Why?” She asked weakly. “Why are you doing this? I-I don’t-- I don’t understand.”

“Then let me make you understand,” Howard said. “Give me a chance.” She pulled Joan against her tightly, then pressed a kiss to the top of her head, which made Joan dissolve into sobs all over again. “I’ll show you, sweetheart. I won’t let you be alone again.”

Joan whimpered. The poor thing was so worked up that she couldn’t even speak anymore. She just buried her face in Howard’s chest and cried.

“Get it all out, sweetie,” Howard murmured to her soothingly. “You probably haven’t cried like this to anyone in a long time, huh? Oh, you sweet, sweet girl… I’m not going to let you go. It’s okay. I’m right here, baby.”

Joan would continue to cry for quite some time, not that Howard blamed her. She had so many emotions all pent up inside her frail little body; they must have been eating away at her. Her letting them all out like this was good.

“Thank you,” Joan gasped. “Thank you, Katherine, thank you, thank you…”

“It’s my pleasure, honey, really,” Howard smiled lovingly down at the girl. “I’m here now. I won’t let you go, I promise.”

#six the musical #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfic #six fanfiction #uk tour six #tour katherine howard #katherine howard #tour joan on the keys #joan on the keys #close to you #momward

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bindi-the-skunk · 4 years

Text

Night is day and day is night In a world that's lost its mind! Chapter 2

"Deep breaths...deep breaths..." Robert encouraged well rubbing the back of his hyperventilating mate who did not react well to finding a disembodied hand in the cellar, not that the alpha could blame him, he had hoped to slowly explain things to him, too late, of course, his father had to leave a big mess!

Honestly, his father always stressed the importance of a clean image, too bad that did not extend to his other business! He took that a little lighter than Robert liked! Took his mother's special bleach blend and even then the whole stain did not come out of the carpet from the last one! He kept telling him to use a tarp!

He knew mother was just as tired of the constant mess as he was, though the tendency towards mess did nothing to lend itself to a more jolly personality...

"I thought you said he was on our side in this?" The elder Lanyon nearly growled, arms crossed in disapproval, if this was how his son's mate reacted to one severed hand there was going to be a problem...and that was another thing! His son had lied straight to his face that he was done with his attempt at a relationship with Doctor Jekyll!

He liked the omega fine, hard-working, and all that, but he was not what he had wanted for his son, too wiry and breakable, did not possess the iron core, some omega's could develop one with time, but still, not a good fit for their little family tradition...his wife had taken it all in stride and done her initiation ceremony flawlessly and without a moment's hesitation, he had been ready to call a preacher or a soul specialist right there as she stood tall, white ceremonial robes covered in blood and chocolate eyes burning with fire as she finished off her first, a child killer.

He wanted to go kiss her right now just thinking about her conviction! Now that was a mate! It only took a few words from her when Robert had nearly dropped out halfway through, then afterward he had thrown up and nearly made a fool out of himself in front of his grandparents...but that had not been her fault and nothing some ginger tea could not fix and he was much better later on.

She was just as skilled with an ice pick as with her knitting needles, he was somewhat disappointed she moved onto knives after her ice pick broke...too uninspired for her skill set and kept meaning to get her a new one.

"He is, I told you, but even I would not exactly be dancing about the room if I stepped in body parts!" Robert argued, he had hoped this would go smoothly, but it obviously was not, oh well, he just needed a verbal blessing in front of a witness so they could get officially married, that was all he wanted, soul bonds were not against the law, but the difference was sort of like being married by a justice of the peace and married by a preacher, some people did get picky when it came to those things and he wanted things to be perfect and leave no doubt.

He was just honestly glad it was something like this, as much as he was not a huge fan of Hyde's unsubtle ways, it was better than forcing his father to consent to their marriage via knocking his mate up, not that they did much to prevent that one...if it happened it happened, but this was a much cleaner method and showed his father that Henry could handle their secrets.

A little panic attack was expected, it was a lot for Henry to bite off in one go! Robert himself was still reeling from the night's events.

Oh! He would need to pick out the perfect person for his love's first time...he would worry about it later, right now he had more important things to do.

Henry's mind was in a jumble of emotions, his mate was a serial killer! Or at least his father was and Robert knew about it! What should he do? Demand the soul severance that he thought was going to be forced onto him? No, he still loved Robert and knew it would kill him to do that...he just...had to ..calm down...perhaps there was a rational explanation?

"Father, could you leave us alone for a moment? I will explain things to him, I think you are making him more nervous" Robert requested and was glad when all he got was a mild huff before his father disappeared down the hallway.

"R-Robert...I don't...understand..." Jekyll managed to get out, hoping it did not make the ..oh goodness...murderer...mad, just a few weeks ago they had taken two weeks off from their work at Roberts house so they could have the other to themselves, the alpha lying to his father he was on a business trip so there would be no disturbances.

What horrors unknowingly laid under Henry's feet the whole time? Did Robert also have a torture cellar? Or did everything take place in the Lanyon family home? Would he get mad if Henry did not agree with something?

Robert just smiled softly and put his warm hands over Henry's clammy ones "My father and I are working on ridding the world of a few...stains, we do not go after innocent people, that hand you saw in the cellar belonged to a serial rapist, he was even stepping up to murder when he was caught and captured, he had a knife to this young woman, no more than sixteens throat, he confessed a lot under...insistence...and was unapologetic for his crimes and even called those he assaulted, garbage, we have dealt with others like him and worse, Henry, you can help us, four is better than three! Mother adores you already and I will be right there with you when you do your initiation, father was very pushy during mine...but you can take your time...figure out what works for you"

He made it sound as if they were signing up for a dance class! But it was killing...Hyde made threats certainly...and the incident with Moreau...the man died from his injuries...but that was not...it was different! The fire did most of the damage, it was most certainly different...

Or was it?

Moreau did horrible things to animals...slicing them up well alive...sewing them back together well they cried out in agony...the worst kind of mad scientist...while the Lodgers still had a working moral compass, he abandoned his long ago and who was to say if given the chance he would not have moved onto people? Innocent men, women, and children yanked off the streets to be chopped up and sewn back together with nothing to dull their pain but death...and who was to say he had not tried it before? People whose families still wondered what happened to those they loved...

But Robert and himself were doctors! They were meant to heal people...innocent people...the same skills that lent themselves so well to saving lives, could just as easily take it away...

Henry did feel guilt over Moreau's death, the specter that had taken his form spoke to that, but should he honestly feel all that bad? He was going to hurt the Lodgers...take Creature and do God knows what to it...

A sixteen-year-old girl...was almost raped and killed...would that man have left her body there for the police to find? Discarded like the trash as Robert said he thought of his victims as? Or would he have disposed of her corpse, never to be seen again? No one ever knowing...her family laying awake every night, wondering where their precious baby was, or being forced to go down to some random morgue to confirm it was her violated corpse?

He had so many omega's in his society, and both Virginia and Rachel were pretty female alpha's he knew many of the scum in the black market would jump at the chance to try and take...young Jasper would not survive in the underbelly of the world...he would become a broken core...Henry would kill if someone tried to hurt any of his rogue scientists...that had been proven via Hyde's actions.

Would helping Robert in his quest really be that bad? He already was a murderer, and his mate made a good point, so many people who did horrible things just because it brought them sick pleasure...get rid of as many monsters as they could...but then they would be the only monsters left...

Did he want to become a monster?

He already was a monster...what was going a little bit further now?

"I'll do it...for the benefit of the world...and for you," Jekyll said, glad his voice did not waver too much at the statement.

Robert grinned and clapped his hands together and stood up "Excellent, now follow me!"

Henry just nodded and got to his own feet, wondering what on earth could be in store for him now.

The two headed down another hallway and Henry could not help but feel a coil of dread in his stomach as acid built up in the back of his throat at the idea of a tied-up person being on the other end of one of those doors... was he going to do this...initiation now?

"Do I have to....the ceremony...tonight?"

"Of course not, we have to make preparations! It's all more complicated than needed, but oh well...most ceremony does tend to have more intricateness than required...no need to worry about it, now, your night has been hard enough and you need to get cleaned up and into some better fitting clothing, I want you to relax, go in here and take a hot ba- FATHER! Get the severed head out of the bathtub! People live in this house!"

Welcome to crazy-Ville! Everyone gets a severed head hood ornament!

#TGS #tgs jekyll #Tgs Hyde #the glass scientists #The glass scientists AU #Jekyon #Robert Lanyon X Henry Jekyll #tgs lanyon #TGS Serial!killer AU

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teddybeardoctorr · 5 years

Text

Keep It In the Family

Characters: Billy Hargrove x Reader (AU)

Summary: Billy is beginning to think this family is seriously messed up. Not only do you, his stepsister, have the hots for him, but...well, he has the hots for you, too.

Words: 5,364k

Warnings: 18+, incest (stepbrother & stepsister), Billy being his snarky self, cursing, female and male masturbation, smut, p in v, fingering, male oral receiving, unprotected sex, underage sex (both still in high school), rough sex.

A/N - This is a trope I’ve been dying to give a whirl. Billy was the first to come to mind. Shoutout to @sidehowriting for all the encouragement. Half of this is pure filth. If that’s your thing, hope you enjoy! Unbetaed, all mistakes are my own.

"What the hell are you doing? It's like the perfume department here."

Billy turned around from his reflection, smirking wickedly as he looked you up and down. "Going on a date. You may not have heard of that before."

"Fuck you, asshole," you sneered, walking away from the door.

"Potty mouth! Don't make me tell Susan!"

Billy couldn't help but laugh from his spot. A date isn't what he would name tonight. It was just another night with another girl. They would probably go to the movies and fuck in the backseat of his car afterwards. But still, taking any jab he could at his stepsister was also too fun to resist.

It had only been just a year that Billy's dad married your mom. Their love moved everyone across the country to butt fuck Indiana, not caring what you or your new stepbrother thought of it. Billy thought this town was mediocre at best. Y/N couldn't say she disagreed.

This was probably the only thing you both had in common, besides being in the same grade. You would often make fun of this empty, boring town together and laugh at the comments you made about other desperate people.

Well, of course, that was when Billy wasn't in one of his moods.

Otherwise, you two were polar opposites. Billy smoked cigarettes, partied often, and went on multiple escapades with his female classmates. Meanwhile, Y/N was on the cheerleading team, had straight A's in everything, and stayed up on the phone all night talking about or to other boys. You were a Nancy Wheeler type of chick; the type that annoyed Billy to no end.

So when he came home that night and walked past your door, cracked open just the slightest, he didn't expect to stop dead in his tracks.

Just to make sure he wasn't hearing things, he peaked his ear and evened his breathing. And there it was, just the quietest whimper of pleasure he'd ever heard.

No, he definitely didn't expect that.

Taking a deep, quiet breath, he stepped a few steps back. His vision lined up with the crack of the door open. And damn, he could swear his breath caught in his throat.

No, he definitely didn't expect to see his step sister naked. And touching herself.

Immediately, his head whipped away. He widened his eyes in horror, whispering, "What. The. Fuck?"

Great. Now, he just caught his stepsister masturbating. Now, he can't get this image or sound out of his head. He'd probably have to stab his eyes out now.

Willing his legs to move forward, he wanted to walk back to his room. He wanted to drink the small bit of vodka he had left under his bed. Hopefully that was enough to get him drunk and straight to bed, forgetting he ever saw you touching yourself.

The only thing was that he couldn't. No matter what, his legs wouldn't move forward. He was frozen in place, as if in a lucid dream.

And then, he moved his head back to the crack of the door. Looking at you.

Billy's eyes were glued to you like no other sight he'd ever seen before.

Everything about you in that moment was mesmerizing. The rise and fall of your breasts as your breathing became shorter; your legs spread wide as your small hand rubbed over your clit, up and down, left and right; your hand traveling to your breast to massage it, to pluck your nipple between your fingers. Everything was making Billy's hand travel down to the front of jeans, confirming the obvious.

Yes, he was definitely that hard watching his stepsister mastubate.

But then two fingers traveled down to your cunt, sliding inside with ease. And he could've sworn he almost came at the sight of it.

"God damn," he mouthed.

Without even meaning to, his hand was palming the front of his jeans. He needed some sort of friction, anything to get rid of this feeling. The tightening of his balls and the hardness of his cock needed to settle the fuck down. He couldn't continue watching his step sister touch herself, thinking you were doing it in private.

This was wrong on so, so many levels.

Billy knew he was going to hell, but after this, there was no question about it.

And then he heard your slick echo in your bedroom. Your fingers fucked into you so fast that your hand slapped against your skin. Your head fell back against the pillows. Your back arched off the bed as you moaned a little louder than you meant to. And that's when he heard it.

"Fuck, Billy! You feel so good."

What?

His hand stopped just before he squeezed his dick through the denim. That's when he went straight to his room and tossed in the bed for the rest of the night.

Sleep wouldn't stay with Billy for long, especially when all he could think about was Y/N masturbating. And you were touching yourself talking about him. Your stepbrother. Of all people.

You were masturbating, moaning his name. Squeezing your breast, flicking your bundle of nerves, probably imagining it was his touch instead.

Lord have fucking mercy.

Maybe this family was seriously fucked up.

He just had to know...did you cum? Did you grow frustrated not being able to get yourself off without his help? He had to assume that. It's exactly how he felt that night, when sweat broke out across his forehead.

In feverish motions, he tried pumping his fist up and down his cock to the thought of his stepsister and your sexy little body sprawled across the sheets, with your small hand rubbing against your dripping folds. But then he would huff and turn, giving up, cursing at himself for even being in this predicament. For all of a sudden thinking about how his stepsister would look underneath him as he would plow you into the mattress.

Billy just knew his hand didn't, couldn't even compare to the real thing.

The next morning went on without a hitch. Neil and Susan left for the day, probably to run the usual Saturday errands. Y/N was probably over a friend's house. And this left Billy more relieved than he should've been. Now, he could workout in peace without any distractions. Pumping iron, blaring Metallica, and smoking a cigarette in the living room would be the cure to his sinful thoughts.

"What, did Melissa tell you your arms weren't big enough?"

Billy stopped mid bicep curl, shutting his eyes and cursing under his breath. Of course he wasn't alone.

Turning his head to look at you, he couldn't help but be annoyed. "Aren't you supposed to be somewhere?"

"Like where?"

He continued his set, huffing through the motion. "Fucking off."

"Jeez, louise. What's got your panties in a bunch?"

Giving up, he laid the weight on the floor and let his arms fall to his sides. "You being up my ass, that's what."

You shrugged, flipping your hair over your shoulder. "What of it?"

Billy was about to make a comeback until he noticed your attire. You were in sweatpants and a form fitting tank top, making your nipples poke through the fabric. You crossed your arms and made your cleavage pop more, and it took everything for Billy not to stare and bite his lip.

Fuck, he definitely should not be having these thoughts. Not anymore. Not ever.

Instead of saying anything, Billy took a cigarette from his pack laying on the coffee table. He lit up and inhaled quickly before exhaling, walking away from you.

But you just couldn't take the hint.

You followed him through the living room to the kitchen. "What is wrong with you? You can't even look at me."

"Because I don't want to," he said, exasperated with the cigarette between his teeth. "My eyes don't need anymore trauma."

"Oh, please," you said, popping out your hip and leaning against the counter. "You probably masturbate to me every night."

"What the fuck?" he gagged in disgust, the cigarette almost dropping from his mouth before his fingers pinched it. "Now I need to bleach my ears."

"Well, if it isn't that, then what's up with you?" You pressed, crossing your arms.

Putting the cigarette out against the marble counter, Billy stepped forward. He was menacing and the expression he wore wasn't a happy one, but you were used to seeing it. It was the one he took on right before yelling or going psycho. Kind of like now.

"You are nothing to me," he stated, taking a step closer. Each word was clenched through his teeth, coming out tightly. "We aren't family. We aren't friends. We are nothing to each other. So whatever is up doesn't concern you. Stay the hell out of my way and fuck. Off."

He expected more of a rise, more fear. Maybe confusion. But all you did was narrow your eyes and match his stare. His façade almost broke, questioning how none of this could affect you at all.

Then again, you had seen what Neil can do. Even if it was never spoken about.

Finally, you broke the silence and walked away, but what you said didn't make Billy feel any better.

"Coward."

That word was the only thing filling his mind as the day progressed.

Coward.

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

Was he supposed to mention how he overheard you pleasuring yourself? How he wished it was his hand sliding through your folds instead? How he knew you wanted a rise out of him, in more ways than one?

How in the hell did pushing you away, his stepsister, make him a coward?

Even though time inched by agonizingly slow, it was soon nighttime. Billy talked with Susan on the phone earlier, as she told him that her and Neil would be out of town for the night. For what reason, he wasn't sure, but he wasn't going to complain about a night away from his father. The only thing he wasn't feeling hot about was occupying the same house as his stepsister.

Pacing his bedroom, he just didn't understand why this had to happen to him. Him. Of all the people in this weird ass town Hawkins, he was the lucky winner.

Just as his hand began to roughly run through his curls, he stopped in his tracks. Cutting off the sound of his breath. Listening intently.

There it was; the softest of moans.

Without even thinking, he barged out of his room. The door probably slapped against the wall from the strength he used to whip it open. He wasn't too sure. All he focused on was walking right in front of your door. Noticing it was still open just a crack.

What a fucking tease.

There you were. On top of his lap. Anchoring your hands on his shoulders as you kissed him deeply. His hands ran up and down your back and into your hair, caressing you.

Hot rage flowed through Billy instantly. He didn't even realize he was throwing the door open and dragging you off of him by the inside of your elbow. None of the yelling or cursing from both you or your point of interest even registered. He didn't even notice he yanked the guy up from his hair and pushed him out of the room until he was at the top of the steps.

Pushing the asshole down would've been gratifying, but then there would be a mess to clean up. Billy didn't have the patience for that.

Finally getting to the front door, Billy threatened, "You come back and you'll leave again with broken bones."

"What the-"

He slammed the door and locked it in place, the cursing of the random boy being cut off completely.

Making sure he drove away from the house, Billy made his way upstairs. It was as fast as he could get up there, since his nerves were still tingling with adrenaline. The veins in his biceps popped as if he just deadlifted twice his weight. He had no idea what came over him. How he could react so fast in such a short amount of time.

He didn't have any moment to think about it, because once he returned to your room to curse you out, you shut him up with your lips.

Any anger Billy had dissolved. It disintegrated into the supple skin of your lips. Any anger was replaced with hunger, and it activated his hands and mouth quickly.

You moaned into his lips, pulling him closer to you as you fisted your hands in his shirt. You bit his bottom lip a little too roughly, but it was all Billy could do but to moan into your mouth. Nibbling and nurturing the pain your teeth left behind with another long, wet kiss made it even more difficult for him not to growl and lose control. How you could piss him off but make him drown and float all at the same time was beyond him.

Reclaiming dominance, his hands gripped your hips and pulled them flush against his, where he was already stirring for more stimulation. His blunt nails dug into your flesh and you whimpered, your tongue sliding against his as you savored the taste of him. Of your stepbrother.

“You’re such a fucking psychopath,” you muttered against him.

He chuckled, walking you backward towards the bed. Lips never seeming to fully disconnect. “So are you.”

“How?”

At that moment, the back of your knees hit the bed and you fell down to sit. Your back pressed against the soft comforter as his body lowered over yours. Your lips finally disconnected, fully, as his eyes finally roamed over you. He needed to take this moment in, for the first time.

The top few buttons of your shirt were undone, your bra absent. Your neck a little red from previous teeth marks visiting across. His eyes eventually found yours, and he was speechless at what he found. Desire, lust, excitement, surprise; everything he was feeling about being this close with his stepsister.

Yeah, you both really were fucked up.

His hand traveled along. First, he squeezed your breast through the cotton, making you gasp and arch into his palm. He teased your nipple with the pad of his thumb. It grew erect, aching to be sucked between his soft lips. Then, it slid down across your ribcage, grabbing just a bit and appreciating the curve of your body. And lastly, it stopped just above the button of your jeans, readying to expertly pop it open and slide underneath the cotton of your panties. But not without roughly spreading your legs apart, making sure he had enough room to drive you crazy.

Your eyes found his, anticipation causing your pussy to clench and ache around nothing. It made you whimper as you involuntarily rose your hips to his hand. He laughed and shook his head.

“You’ve been fantasizing about your own stepbrother being inside of you,” he said huskily, his fingers snaking under the waistband of your panties. They found your slick folds, and fuck he almost came right then and there. “And you’re so fucking wet thinking about it.”

“I always have been,” you gasped, your hips rolling up again. “Please, Billy.”

He groaned, your clit rolling between his fingers. Immediately, they became coated in your arousal, easily traveling through your slit. He had to explore and cup your pussy, the most sensitive part of you being rubbed along the bottom of his palm. In seconds, you were writhing and singing below him. Riding against his palm and clutching his arms like a lifeline, you knew you would cum soon. Just the thought alone of your stepbrother finally touching you in ways you always fantasized about was more than enough for your body to bare.

With his whole hand wet from your pussy, he finally let the tips of his two fingers tease your opening. To test the waters, he slowly slid them in just half an inch. You were already clenching around him, inviting him to rub against your most sensitive wall. You needed his touch. You’ve needed it since you first laid eyes on him, damnit.

Once his fingers fully sank inside of you, your eyes rolled to the back of your head with a loud moan. “Oh fuck!”

He couldn’t help but smirk down at you. You were so beautiful with your eyes shut tight, with your neck extended, with your mouth agape and letting out sounds only pure bliss was capable of. He craved more of it, all of it, so he slid his fingers in and out of you over and over. He worked you and watched your hips ride against his hand to meet his rhythm. You were so desperate, needy for his touch and he loved every fucking second of it.

Soon, his hand scissored against you, the sound of his hand meeting the skin of your inner thighs as he fingerfucked you at an unforgiving pace. The sound of your arousal echoed and wrapped around his ears. They tightened around his senses so much that tiny grunts of his own escaped, uncaring of how hungry he sounded.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N,” he said, admiring. “You’re so fucking tight around my fingers.”

By the way your hips ground against the bed and your teeth bit your bottom lip, he knew you were nearing the edge. He was mesmerized by the way your eyes intently focused on his hand fucking into you. Then, they would flicker back up to his, reeling him in and making him lose his resolve.

All Billy wanted to do was let you take control and do whatever the hell you want with him, but he needed this first. He needed to make his stepsister cum. He needed to take care of you. He needed to make sure you never came harder again from anyone else besides him.

With just the pad of his thumb rolling your bud around and his fingers rubbing along your sweet spot, he noticed the arch in your back. It was different this time; the way your breasts heaved with your breathing. He knew at this angle, with this added stimulation, that you would fall off the edge. With just a few more thrusts of his fingers curling inside, your pussy clamped around him as your orgasm ripped through you.

Your throat let out a screaming moan you weren’t sure you were ever capable of. Your toes curled into the mattress as your legs instinctively closed around his hand. But still, somehow, he fucked his fingers into you and made sure to apply a little more pressure than before to your walls, to make sure you came the hardest you could.

“That’s right, baby,” he growled, his fingers causing your arousal to sound more as your juices coated him. “Cum for me.”

"Oh my god," you cried, eyes shut tight.

Watching your body convulse underneath him was such a distracting, beautiful sight. So beautiful that he didn't even realize he was still making you ache. It took stopping his motions by gripping his wrist for you to finally get in a few deep breaths. You stared up at him, smirking.

"You're so good at that."

He laughed softly. "That's not the only thing I'm good at."

Before you could roll your eyes, you brought his hand up to your face. His eyebrows knitted together before rising in surprise.

You were just full of surprises. You never allowed him to expect anything new out of you.

You ran your tongue up along his palm. The pleasure flowing out of you was coated all along his skin. Admittedly, it was a welcomed taste on your tongue. Just tasting yourself on the hand your stepbrother touched you with was enough to send you reeling all over again.

Humming in pleasure, you closed your eyes before capturing the fingers that fucked you between your lips. Billy growled, instantly shoving his fingers slightly into your inviting mouth. Rubbing against your tongue, you hollow your cheeks and watched his him disappear into your mouth. The taste of yourself and his skin had you bobbing your head along, imagining his cock between your lips instead.

Reading your mind, he withdrew his hand and tucked a stray hair behind your ear. "While watching you suck my fingers is fucking hot, I'd rather you suck my cock."

Devilishly, you smiled. "Yes, please."

With a spring in your step, you stood up and started unbuttoning your shirt. He sat there with his palms flat on the bed. His smirk stretched his lips further as he watched your fingers release the buttons. They were a little shaky, yes. But something about stripping in front of your incredibly hot stepbrother made you impatient to be all over him.

In record time, your shirt fell with a soft thud to the floor. Your breasts came into view, and Billy instantly licked his lips in anticipation. God, you were fucking beautiful. His eyes never left your hands as you stepped out of your jeans and ruined panties. They never strayed as your hands went to his belt buckle, undoing the loop and button of his jeans and pulling them down hastily until he kicked them to the side.

You sank to your knees, your hand grabbing the base of his cock as the other laid flat on the bed beside his thigh. He hissed at the sudden contact. The tip of his cock was already leaking, aching for some relief. You made him so hard he wasn't sure how he was processing anything right now.

When your lips wrapped around the tip and suckled before lowering down, he swore he almost came again.

"God damn, Y/N," he hissed.

You smiled around him, feeling each ridge and vein as you did so. He was bigger than you expected, but you didn't want to miss any part of him. So while you slowly bobbed your head up and down, sucking him as much as you could, you made sure to put his hands on your head. He took the hint and threaded his fingers through your Y/H/C strands, allowing you to set the pace and for him to make sure you didn't stop.

Billy was unrelenting as you made his cock pulse in your mouth. You would run your tongue flat against his velvety skin, tasting the saltiness your stomach craved. You would return to the top and kiss the tip, suckling and running your tongue around in circles. You made sure to tease him slightly and drive him wild, just like he did to you moments ago.

But never did your mouth rest for long. His hands would make you lower on him, over and over and over. You sucked and swallowed and tighten your lips around him, making him curse and buck his hips forward.

Fucking your mouth was a sight for sore eyes. Especially when you kept contact with him. It was especially sexy when he was inside of your mouth to the hilt. You sputtered around him and shook your head slightly, moaning and humming against him. After watching tears stream down your cheeks and spit trickle down your throat, he continued fucking into your mouth.

Your mouth was incredibly sore and you were sure your throat was too, but it didn't matter. The look of pure lust in your stepbrother's eyes was enough to keep you going forward, sucking him into oblivion.

Once Billy felt the tightening of his balls become near unbearable, he pulled your head off of him entirely. You gasped and heaved, letting your head fall back to look up at him. He was a breathing mess, his chest rising and falling while he took in the sight of you. Smirking and breathing heavily and dirty all over.

"You liked that, babygirl?"

You giggled, rising to your feet and wiping the spit from your mouth with the back of your hand. "I'd like it better if you were inside of me."

Those words activated something new in him. It was faster than he could even see, but immediately, he was at his feet. His lips captured yours, uncaring if the taste of him was slightly mixed in with yours. It didn't matter when your lips were so soft and full and warm, slightly shaking from much repetitive motions. You were perfect, phenomenal, nonetheless.

In an instant, you were tossed onto the bed, giggling as you moved up backwards. Your head sunk into your pillows as you watched your stepbrother rip the shirt off his body. Your tongue automatically swept out to lick your lips. How his abs were so defined and perfect, you would never know. He was sculpted and beautiful. Too damn beautiful.

In a few motions, he crawled on top of you and crashed his lips onto yours again. You made a sound of wicked pleasure into him, fingers threading into his soft curls. The moment you rose your hips to encourage him to fuck you, the tip softly rubbed against your clit. You hummed against him, tightening your hold in his hair.

"Please, Billy," you whined against his lips.

He laughed, looking down at you and licking his lips. "Please what?"

"Please fuck me. I need you to make me cum."

“How bad do you need your stepbrother inside of you?”

“Fucking fuck me now!” You practically yelled, making the head of his cock touch against your clit again.

Without any words, he grabbed his cock and ran it up and down your slick with a chuckle. You whined again, rubbing against him in hopes he would slip inside. But he knew how badly you wanted him, how badly you needed him to fill you whole. So to wind you up, he coated himself with your arousal, watching his dick glisten and easily move up and down your folds. He watched in awe as you became wetter and needier, practically grinding against him in frustration.

After growing desperate himself, he lined up with your entrance. He poked it and teased, watching your legs spread wide to accommodate him. The heels of your feet dug into the top of his back thighs, and the delicious contact was enough for him to slam into you.

Watching your face contort with pleasure as you moaned to the ceiling was a look he'll never forget. You clenched around him perfectly. So perfectly a moan of his own ripped out in unison.

"God damn, Y/N. You feel so fucking good."

Coming back out and slamming into you again, you tighten your hold on his hair. He clenched his teeth and growled, another thrust sending you further into the pillows. This continued for a few more times, and each time, Billy had to get used to the feeling of your pussy wrapping around his cock.

He knew you weren’t a virgin, but shit, you sure felt like it. No girl he had ever messed around with ever felt as sensational as you did wrapped around him. The way you pulsed around him and thrust up against him was enough to risk cuming into you entirely.

Your hands slid down the nape of his neck to clutch onto his arms, nails digging into his damp skin. “Fuck me harder.”

Complying right away, Billy fell onto his elbows. His hands gripped the pillows on either side of your head as he said, “Like this?”

Any words you could or were about to say were knocked out of you. Another new wave of arousal came over Billy faster than he could let out his next breath. He started pounding into you feverishly, rolling his hips against yours again and again. Relentlessly and starved. Sweat formed along the top of his brow, and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. It was the only sense of control he could practice as he memorized every contour of your face.

You tried keeping in any questionable sound to slip past your lips, but self control was far from reach. It definitely was when Billy was pumping into you faster than anyone had ever fucked you before.

Every thrust sent into you had the coil in your belly tighten more and more, yet you kept chasing it. You kept chasing the feeling of being filled to the hilt. You kept chasing the feeling of the pit of your stomach being filled with pleasure and hunger. You kept wanting more of his cock sliding against your most sensitive wall. All of this was easy to have when his sweaty chest was pressing into yours, keeping you from moving away.

But of course, you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

The slap of your flesh meeting filled your ears, along with the moans falling from your lips. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!”

“You’re so beautiful,” he grunted, face nuzzling into the curve of your neck.

His lips pressed a wet kiss against the underside of your jaw before nibbling down with his teeth. He growled as he teased your skin and fucked into you with an uneven rhythm. At this point, with him stimulating you from all ends, you were left a mess beneath him, chasing your high with him.

You could tell he was getting close, with his thrusts growing erratic and groans getting louder each time his pelvis met yours. Sometimes, he hit your cervix just a bit, but you welcomed the delicious pain licking up your spine. And getting the hint from your gripping hands, his pace didn’t slow down. He kept fucking into you even harder, finally making the headboard bounce against the wall.

Without needing to say anything more, Billy snaked a hand between your bodies, where he kept slamming and throbbing inside of you. It definitely felt like your arousal was dripping down his balls, and with that fact, he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Being inside of his stepsister was already enough to have his balls tighten more than he could handle.

Needing his stepsister to cum, the pads of two of his fingers rubbed tight circles around your bundle of nerves. They continued to be coated in your slick and made it easy for the tips of his fingers to squeeze and work you with just the right amount of pressure. Your back arched and your hips danced against his hand. This was the touch you didn’t know you needed to send you over the edge, screaming to the ceiling.

“Fuck, Billy, I’m cuming!”

“There you go, babygirl,” he hummed, smiling. “Cum all over my dick.”

Despite your pelvis spasming against his from overstimulation, he didn’t let up. He kept rolling your clit around and slamming into you until he stilled, groaning and closing his eyes in bliss. Billy never knew it was possible to cum this hard. Spurts of his cum kept shooting into you, his hips snapping forward with each shot of his seed. Until finally, he collapsed on top of you, unable to move and breathe evenly.

Fuck, you took everything out of him. He was truly spent.

Your fingertips ghosting over his back stirred him from his haze. Drawing lazy patterns made him sigh and feel content. No girl he had ever fucked felt this good. Ever. Hell, no girl he had ever been with ever made him feel the things you made him feel.

His stepsister really was something else.

“That was fucking amazing,” you sighed, smiling.

Raising his head to look you in the eyes, he smirked. “God damn, it was.”

Billy wanted to dirty talk you into another round, but instead, he pressed his lips against yours and sighed. The kiss held all the ambitions finally being released, all the sinful thoughts he ever had finally unfolding. He never knew fucking his stepsister was something he needed, but damnit, he needed this at least three more times.

As soon as his lips pulled away, so did his thoughts as he heard the three knocks on your bedroom door before it opened.

"Honey, it's mom, I'm home."

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