#im just trying to change the permissions...

[relto]

"no process" ok how about you MAKE a process then. tf do i keep clicking the start button for.

[danidoesathing]

(The Diving Suit fiasco is so interesting to me, because while League Viktor is canonically against mind control, he also designed something like that. Like, that disparity is fascinating to me.

(My own personal interpretation/HC of that whole thing is that League Viktor sees "mind control" as "directly and completely overriding someone's will and leaving them powerless and unable to consent". The Diving Suits would have only removed the diver's ability to feel fear-which, while still really sketchy and rife with potential for exploitation, doesn't technically override a person's thoughts, feelings (mostly), and desires. And to add to that, anyone who used that suit would theoretically know what they were getting into and thus have consented to it.)

(That said, it was still a sketchy as hell concept that was probably never going to fly with the Council, and I think a lot of problems could've been avoided if he gave the "fear suppression" switch to the divers instead of the supervisor.))

i mean i get it because it's not. technically mind control, or at least not at first glance. And in theory, in some ideal world where companies carried about the lives and consent of their workers, the divers would informed and have to sign a consent form. In theory, the ability to remove emotions like fear or anxiety for dangerous tasks where lives are at stake could be very beneficial. like the fear a surgeon feels when performing may make his hands shake and could cost the patient's life. Temporarily blocking out that fear could solve similar problems.

it is, however, incredibly short sighted and lacks the forethought about how it could easily be exploited and abused by other people. even if the control was given just to the divers, it could still be used for nefarious purposes. and piltover and zaun are not exactly well known for their proper treatment of the working class it is FULL of corruption and hatred towards the poor. i mean like. the chembarons alone are committing fourteen worker's rights and OSHA violations every hour! there is no way in hell it would be implemented well in our world, let alone theirs.

in viktor's defense, it was just a concept. sketchy as hell? yeah. was it ever gonna go well with the council? probably not, but he hadn't even presented it yet. (and lets be honest, if it was anyone from Piltover proposing the idea, they would've gotten a stern talking to, slap on the wrist, maybe a suspension. but since its a disabled man from Zaun whose already "caused problems with the academy", he didnt stand a chance).

[buffyspeak]

okay im sorry i have to say it. i’m in late s6 and has hanna has been borderline insufferable since like… s4? i thought her bitter streak when ali returned to rosewood was like, interesting and understandable, but it never went away and in fact just expanded out to people who did nothing to earn it? and like i don’t hate her bc i still love early seasons hanna and even now i understand her motivations but. god

[kisskissgotohell]

i just wanna point out that, like. it's okay to disagree with the main character. just because they're the pov of the story doesn't mean they're infallible or that their word is law? you can like that character that tried to kill the mc. you can think the mc made the wrong choice. you can forgive things that the mc would never forgive, or choose not to forgive things that the mc does, because you're not the main character. you are the reader of the story, and just because you can't change it (and it's not the author's responsibility to capitulate to fans) doesn't mean you can't form your own opinions about it. it's fictional! that's the point! have fun with it!!

[verdancy-hime]

Sure. But I wrote a long reply to this and tumblr ate it.

Basically, at what point would you be willing to?

Think about it for real.

I have had situations growing up where I had to think really hard about this for scary reasons. I won't elaborate.

But like

I think most people would imagine a scenario where they would temporarily live as a different gender to survive. Like if you were in a situation where another woman were in danger of violence and you could save her by disguising yourself temporarily? You probably would. But if the government makes women working illegal would you get a job pretending to be a man? How far would you go? Like on the spectrum from you would do it to avoid sexual assault or trafficking in your immediate vicinity for a few hours or days or you would work online from home and use a male name and a photo and a different voice? What if you had to use a camera and filter? What if you had to work in person? What if it wasn't a danger of physical violence but someone offered you like? Your dream job? Or a ton of money? To perform as a drag king? To delete knowledge of your biological sex from the public record? To be a sex worker but as a different gender? Like what if someone said I will give you ten million dollars to have sex with me as a man like a man I'm only attracted to men. What if you fell in love with that person and they fell in love with you as a man? What if magically you woke up with all your memories in this world and you're a different biological sex would you transition? What if you were raised as a different gender and somehow found out as an adult that your biological sex is actually not the one you thought it was? Like your family and doctors lied to you your whole life, and you never saw anyone else naked? What if you grew up knowing one parent would love you more if you were male? What if you grew up raised as punished for showing gender based characteristics? What if you woke up outside of your body and they couldn't put you back in your body but an alternate timeline just had someone experience brain death but they are biologically male and have been their whole lives and you can go back into their body or be a ghost?

Like? At what point do these things distress you? Or make you feel like you would feel a significant quality of life drop?

Like some people think I have DID. So the idea of being non binary distresses me because in whatever I have going on I have different headspaces that are not meant to "front" and I conceptualize them as other people I have a telepathic bond with who exist in the real world outside of my body, either in their own bodies or they exist in the sense that they are not human with a body and able to communicate with people who summon them. Like spirits. People don't understand why the idea of those people taking over my body and "fronting" is distressing to me. But some of those other questions? I know I would be willing to be in disguise as male for some things. I have done it before. I started as a young person because of my mom bullying me if I showed gender characteristics and other people bullying me more if I was feminine. But when I was a young girl I had a female friend get into trouble with a man. I was able to help her because those men thought I was a boy. And as a sex worker men have offered me a lot of money to have sex with them as a boy on the phone. Probably there are scenarios where I would be willing to do that in person if I could change back. There are definitely jobs I could think of where like if someone said "you can be in drag while working and do this job" either because it would help people or be a really good job and maybe not impact my life too much I would do it. But the idea of being forced to take hrt or forced to be male on a day to day life feels bad? Like that's where the gender is stored. The part that isn't related to changing your biological sex that if someone forced you to stop doing it, it would feel like giving up something. Like maybe you would make that trade if it was a life or death situation or to help someone. But the part that wonders how long is the gender.

My impression of at least some non binary people is that it's not a trade to them and like if there was a science fiction or dystopian scenario that changed their biological sex or made people treat them more like the way they see themselves or whatever if they changed gender characteristics they wouldn't care one way or the other. Like they would care about everyone having rights but their internal self concept when they imagine not having a body at all or being a space creature without a biological sex doesn't make them think they would still identify as a gender. Or they actively dislike that whole process. Not just the discrimination parts. They have a self concept that doesn't include a gender as part of it.

Sorry I realize I said that in a really mean way. I shouldn't ask you that if you're talking about discrimination or safety from violence.

i really like the definition of “adult human female” because it says “thats all it is. its not femininity, makeup, submissiveness, softness, anything. all it is is biology. the rest is up to the individual”

[cutiecusp]

A helping hand.

What to do when your boyfriend is a voice actor, and needs a little help getting into the role?

TW. Smut, voice kink, blow job. Dirty talk, so MDNI (AFAB reader)

Simon Riley x Reader.

"Babe, im home!" You call out from the hall, noticing the office door was shut.

You take off your shoes and pad down the hall, quietly putting your bag and coat away. The office door was normally shut when your boyfriend was working, and you never disturbed him during his recording process.

Simon, or Ghost to his fans, was an experienced voice actor, his deep voice making him popular with the ladies and gentlemen alike, and was highly requested on erotic voice apps and voiceovers for those books you hide away in your TBR pile.

You pop him a text to let him know you are home, knowing he would read it when he had a moment, and set about changing and settling in for the night, so you were surprised when your phone chimed a second later.

"Come in, love."

You knock, and enter the door, and your jaw drops, your cheeks flushed. Simon was always sexy as fuck to you, but seeing him like this, in his domain...

The red lighting captured the ink on his forearms as his shirt sleeves were rolled back, his jeans pulled low over his hips. His cocky smile warmed you to the core as he beckoned you closer with a finger, his seated position at the desk relaxed, he looked like a king on his throne.

"Gimme a kiss, angel." He urges, his voice raspy and deep, sending a little shiver through your body as you comply, your lips pressed against his softly.

"Need a favour, a collaboration if you will." He smiles.

You frown, suspicion on your face. You just read the books, you didn't act them out for an audience.

"Need you to get on your knees for me, love. Need your mouth on me." He explains, his eyes never leaving yours.

"And no cameras, just a microphone, i have this job, and it feels a little... faked when I've been trying to record it today." he pauses, cupping your chin in his hand.

"Gonna help me out here, make me come?"

You pause, before nodding. Simon wasn't a selfish lover, making you get off numerous times without thinking about himself, and this was something you loved doing for him.

You kneel in front of him, the microphone on the side of the desk. He presses the button, and you tug at his jeans, exposing him to the cool air.

Taking it in your hand, you stroke the length of him, feeling him harden under your touch. Looking up, you see his eyes burning into yours as he speaks.

"Gonna take care of me, gorgeous?" He rasps, his voice thick with desire.

"Feels so good in your hand like that." He continues, almost narrating what you are doing to his audience.

Emboldened by his words, you nod, and stroke him faster, watching his eyes darken with every stroke.

"You look so good on your knees for me baby." His gruff voice singing through your body.

"Such a pretty girl, stroking my cock like a fucking professional." He rasps, his hips bucking into your hand, urging you to go faster.

You lick a stripe across your palm, before returning to his cock, his eyes wide in shock.

"Oh, i see you've learnt some new tricks, baby?" He laughs, his deep chuckle quickly making you melt as you nod.

"Making me feel so damn good."

You don't speak, almost afraid it'll break the illusion to his audience, so you smile up at him through your lashes.

"Gonna tug this top down, pretty thing. Wanna see your beautiful body." He looks down, raising an eyebrow, as if asking for permission.

You pull back, allowing him to remove your top and bra, exposing your skin to the cool air.

"So fucking beautiful, a goddess." He whispers, sending a blush to your cheeks.

His head tilts back as you close your lips over his head, a hiss of pleasure pulled from his lips as he feels your warm mouth over his cooled skin.

"You feel so fucking good sucking the tip of my cock like that, baby, such a fucking tease..." He rambles, threading his fingers through your hair.

"Your hair is so soft through my fingers, baby, wanna pull on it and bury myself down your throat." He warns, but he does no such thing as he watches you take inch by inch, your throat accommodating him.

"Fuck, gorgeous girl. You take me so well.. makes me feel like a fucking king." He admits, his eyes never leaving yours. Although this was for his audience, his gaze was for you, and you only.

He ruts up into your mouth, making you gag a little, he strokes your cheek with the other hand in apology.

"Gagging on my cock, pretty thing?" he asks, his 'ghost' persona slipping into the conversation. You nod, throwing him a mock scowl as you returned your attention to the job in hand.

Softly sucking on his tip, you reach further down, cupping his heavy balls in your hand, and being rewarded with a moan straight out an audiobook.

"That's it baby, take my balls in your hand too, while you suck me, making me feel amazing. Such a good girl for me." He moans, his voice raspy with need.

You slide your lips all the way down his shaft before making your way back to the tip, repeating this until you feel his legs shake.

"Gonna flood your mouth with my come, baby, you want that?" He asks, both into the mic and to you, you had forgotten completely he was recording, and nodded with a big smile on your face. You felt in complete power, this mammoth of a man eating out of your hand, and this may just be the quickest recording session you've seen him do.

"Making me feel so fucking good, im not gonna last." He chuckles deeply, his hand stroking the back of your head, eyes closed as he feels close to the edge.

You hear his moans and pleas of encouragement as he's near to coming, his hips rocking against your lips in a faster motion, desperate for release, before you pull your lips off him with a pop. Feeling a little bratty, and drunk on power, you look up with a cocky grin of your own.

His eyes opened, his chin tilted down to your face. A smirk danced across your lips as you pulled away on purpose.

He reaches down, gently cupping your neck between his fingers. Full 'Ghost mode' activated, his dark eyes meeting yours.

"Oh, pretty girl. You pulled away as i was about to come down your throat... such a naughty thing you are.."

You feel his fingers wrap through your hair again, a little tighter this time. You flush, squeezing your thighs together.

He notices this, and smirks.

"Gonna use this pretty face, and those gorgeous lips, and you are going to let me come in your mouth, isn't that right, baby?" he asks darkly.

You shake your head mockingly, sticking your tongue out in mock protest.

"Careful sticking that tongue out baby, i might use it." He warns, stroking your cheek with the other hand, before opening your mouth wide.

He positions you closer to him, your legs spread over his feet.

"I want to watch you ride my boot as you make me come, gorgeous. Then i'll allow you to come. Got that."

"Good girl."

His gaze is strong, a side of him you haven't seen, only heard about as he makes you nod by pulling your hair. Dumbstruck, you slowly rock your hips against his boot, your arousal soaking through your clothes.

He waits for you to open your mouth and take him in again before continuing. His touch soft against his harsh words.

"Such a good girl f'me." he repeats, his voice grounding you as your senses go wild at the stimulation.

"Getting off while you suck my cock like a fucking pro." He moans as you bring him back to the edge.

After a few, torturous minutes, you feel him tighten in your mouth, before releasing wave after wave of come down your throat. Your body purring in pleasure as you feel his hands in your hair, his hips flush against your mouth as he moans heavy praise into the room.

Flicking the microphone off and pushing it to the back of the desk, he pulls you up onto him before kissing you deeply, the taste of him on both of your tongues.

"Fuck, love. i didn't- You.." He gasps, his forehead pressed to yours.

You smile softly, pleased that he was stunned and satisfied.

he pushes your body back over the desk, before spreading your legs wide.

"Your turn, love. but only i get to hear you come." He smirks, before removing your clothes, and sinking down between your legs...

.........................................................................................................................

@kaeyasfuturewife @xoxunhinged @muneca-lemon-steppa @gardenof-venus @misshugs @soraya-daydreams @frudoo @renpodz @yesornowaitidontknow @thevoiceinyourheadx @shadowdark00 @rynbeerose @lunamoonbby @incredible-walker @identity2212 @pukbadger @urbimom @corvid007 @wordsfromshona @shadows-empress @m00xy @canyonmooncreations @oniraki @evie-119 @havoc973 @kylies-lover-blog @ishipdabands @cmbghost @heckinspooks @midwesternwitchery @eggy-yoke @redzluvvesage @masterclassofescapism @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @skeletonsucker

[breathinlove]

band!ellie headcanons and smau

read this

sinopse: ellie williams is the lead singer in a band (+some texts with her). i lost the resquest im so sorry!

cw: nsfw after the texts with warning! swearing, ellie's a changed woman after you, reader works in a record store and ellie's a simp.

part 2

band!ellie who is obviously in a band with dina and jesse.

band!ellie who had cat in the band when they started, but they had massive drama when they broke up. (they're on good terms now tho! trust).

band!ellie who had a phase where her and jesse liked dina the fans call it throuple era

band!ellie who got matching flash tattoos on her very first serious show with dina and jesse.

band!ellie who is kind of a fuckgirl and looooves her fans iykwim.

“just until i find the wife.” that's her lame excuse.

band!ellie who is the type of girl to have groupies and sign their tits.

band!ellie mets you at the fuckass record store where you work.

"is that you?" you gather the courage to ask about what she was buying and she smiles proudly. "it's our debut album." "congrats." you sigh before lifting your head to continue. "i bought one this morning when they came in, thought it looked cool." and she has to ask for your number cause why the hell did that make her heart melt.

band!ellie who just looks like she's never kissed before when you're the one to initiate the first kiss. (:0)

band!ellie who 3 dates in invites you to one of her local shows, having you in the front line (eye contact goes insane...).

band!ellie who makes her thristy fans they bite their tongue when she leans over to you at the edge of the stage. singing to you, fingers on your chin.

band!ellie who soon enough is on tour and texting you less. you try to move on (you're soooo wrong for that because she's just busy and thinking about you).

band!ellie always talking about you to dina and jesse.

“i need to get back to my girl.” she's so delusional too.

band!ellie who is instantly only focused on you, weirdly adding your name in every cover of romantic songs they do at rehearsal.

band!ellie who the first thing she does when she's back is run to the record store.

“how was the tour?” you asked, she's leaning on the counter and you take a step back. she replied with an “i missed you.” and you're not even hesitanting anymore.

band!ellie who wastes no time asking you to be her girlfriend after you cuss her out because she was late to one of your dates (she thinks it's hot asf).

band!ellie who is soooo daddy upstage but you know she wants and NEEDS to be babied.

band!ellie who notices you were upset she had a show your birthday, so she called you on stage and serenaded you as if she was justin bieber… flowers and everything. (she sang “one less lonely girl”)

her fr^

band!ellie who when she's out and fans stop her… she's so sweet and attentive but she wouldn't want to be late to see you

“sorry girls, the wife is waiting i have to go.”

texts with band!ellie

nsfw (cw: cunnilingus [e!receiving], strap on sex [r!receiving]. switch!ellie!!!!).

band!ellie who absolutely loves good luck head when you're backstage.

“baby just needs some encouragement, am i right?” you ask softly between open mouthed kisses on her lower stomach and thighs. she nods. “yes… need your tongue.” she grunts, thrusting her hips. you start licking and kissing her slit and she can't help but grind against your tongue until she cums all over it.

band!ellie who loves it when you ride her strap too, but she has to switch out and completely dick you down… with permission after not touching you for so long.

“please let me fuck that pussy.” she knows you're getting tired, since you didn't even slap her hand when she started rubbing your clit. “come on…” she spits down your clit. “tired, babe?” you nod breathlessly grinding on her lap. she fucks up into you “tell me i can fuck you…” but she's already doing it?? “f-fuck me, ellie.” and now she's grining and holding you flat. “damn, this pussy's split open.” as she bottoms that shit deep in you. she will fuck you stupid.

a/n: this is a lot but i enjoyed doing it... and.... my phone's charged!

[dreamersparacosm]

jeon jungkook - the price of desire (part five)

warnings ; hm. sex in a trailer, oc turns into a pornstar, you ride the shit out of him wearing your corporate heels, unprotected sex

prompt ; in which you learn that your dignity has a price, and unfortunately, it looks a lot like Jeon Jungkook in Calvin Klein boxers.

note ; we are SO BACK. listen, i promised you all that oc would indeed get her lick back, and she does. wrote this while listening to wrong by zayn ft kehlani and it’s truly a bop that encapsulates these two buffoons. honestly if i could describe this chapter in a few words it would be: two people who are terrified of admitting defeat. (also at the end im adding a picture of how i think she would ride him so you can see it better. it’s actually mentally ill.)

playlist here

series masterlist here

The flight back to Korea was supposed to be a reset. A cold, clean surgical cut with no frayed edges, no bleeding. It was supposed to be 16 hours to realign, rebuild, remind yourself who the hell you are. The Chief Marketing Officer of Calvin Klein. The woman who keeps everything and everyone in check, not some sleep-deprived idiot who let herself cum at the hands of the one person she should have been immune to.

Instead, it was sixteen hours of psychological warfare because Jungkook was there.

Not technically beside you or talking to you. God, not even looking at you. He was two rows back, noise-canceling headphones on, hoodie pulled low, chewing gum like he didn’t just throw your entire mental state into disarray less than forty-eight hours ago.

His presence alone was enough to make your skin feel tight, like your body was suddenly a size too small. Enough to make your breath catch whenever you thought he shifted in your periphery. Enough to keep your arms crossed and your spine locked straight, mouthing emails you weren’t even writing just to avoid thinking about the way his mouth had felt on your skin.

It meant nothing, you told yourself on a loop. It won’t happen again. It can’t happen again.

Even days later, back on Korean soil, the ghost of LA still clings to you like a second skin. You’re jittery and constantly two seconds away from snapping, because no matter how much work you bury yourself in, no matter how many corporate fires you put out, your body remembers.

It remembers the sound of his voice at the base of your neck. The bruising grip of his fingers and the way he looked at you like he was trying to memorize the shape of your curves.

It’s invasive, the way it follows you. How easily the memory curls around you when you’re not paying attention. How you catch yourself thinking about him in the middle of meetings, in the elevator, in the fucking mirror. And it’s not even the sex — not really.

It’s him.

Jeon Jungkook. Annoying. Arrogant. Stupidly attractive. The human embodiment of a bad idea. The very same man who somehow lodged himself under your skin like a splinter you can’t dig out without bleeding.

The most embarrassing part of it all is you don’t even know if he’s thinking about it at all. You haven’t talked about it or acknowledged it. Maybe that’s for the best. Because if Jungkook isn’t affected, if he’s truly fine, then it gives you permission to pretend too.

You also know pretending will only work until you walk into a room and catch him looking at you.

Even Korea as a whole feels different this time. The skyline hasn’t changed, yet somehow you have. There’s a fracture now, something jagged where your certainty used to be. You can’t focus. You’re distracted in meetings, missing details you’d usually clock with a single glance. Your schedule is packed, brutal even, but your body is restless.

The real problem isn’t seeing him. It’s not seeing him.

It’s when a full day goes by without a snarky comment or a smirk tossed across the room. It’s when you walk into a space and realize he’s not there, and your stomach drops before your brain can lie to you.

It’s a problem, and you hate problems you can’t fix. So, you do what you always do when things start slipping out of control: you work until you drop. Your days blur into a haze of fluorescent lights and bottomless Americanos. Your nights stretch past midnight, stacked with back-to-back revisions and Slack messages you pretend don’t irritate you. It’s a self-imposed exile dressed up as ambition.

If you just keep moving, if you keep clicking and scrolling and typing until your fingers go numb, maybe the static in your brain will settle. Maybe this thing, this itch under your skin that looks suspiciously like Jeon Jungkook, will stop feeling so sharp.

Eventually, you tell yourself, he’ll stop feeling like something. Eventually, your body will forget the geography of his, the slope of his shoulder, the press of his chest. He’s like a ghost you can’t exorcise. Like a stain you can’t scrub out.

He’s in the stupid curve of his name in your inbox, the subject lines stamped with CK Global Campaign: Urgent. He’s in every mockup and mood board and creative deck stacked haphazardly on your desk. He’s twenty stories high on the side of a building downtown, flexing in black-and-white while your cab driver tells you, “That kid’s really famous, huh?”

And you just have to nod, teeth clenched like he didn’t fuck you against a conference room table a week ago and then proceed to show up in your meetings acting like he didn’t.

Even Daniel knows. Or, well, he doesn’t know, but you have to guess he does. He side-eyes you every time Jungkook’s name is mentioned, like he’s just waiting for you to crack and spill some dirty little secret you swore you’d bury.

You keep having to remind yourself that night was a mistake, a temporary lapse in judgment. But if it really was a mistake, why does it still feel like the only time you’ve ever let yourself breathe?

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

On set, surrounded by your team, his team, an entire army of executives, creatives, stylists, assistants, photographers, lighting techs, and people whose jobs you’re not even sure of, you feel small.

Which is ridiculous, frankly. This is your campaign. Your brand. Your vision. You’re the one who’s been living, breathing, and bleeding Calvin Klein for years. You should be running this space like a general on a battlefield.

However, you’re struggling to breathe. The air is buzzing with the static charge of a shoot in motion; cameras clicking, stylists darting in to fix a hem or smudge of shine, assistants whispering frantically into headsets, executives murmuring behind you in languages you half-recognize.

And then there is Jeon Jungkook, standing under the studio lights like he was born in them. A living, breathing ad campaign. A nightmare of temptation.

He’s shirtless, obviously. Low-slung denim riding the edge of indecency. An oversized denim jacket half off his shoulders, barely hanging on like it too was seduced.

You swear every move he makes is calculated. The way he runs his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair, or the way his lips part just enough, eyes hooded as he stares down the camera like he’s thinking filthy thoughts. The way the director mutters “Perfect” under their breath every three seconds, like they’ve forgotten how to breathe, too.

It’s all intentional. Normally, you wouldn’t even bat an eye. You’ve seen more male models strip down than a Las Vegas bachelorette party.

He catches you watching. He sees the way your gaze flits too fast and your lips press into a hard line when the camera catches the dip of his stomach, the flex of his thigh. There’s a warm, fuzzy feeling coiling in his stomach as he enjoys every second of your despair.

So when the director finally calls for a break and the energy shifts, you don’t even need to look up to know he’s coming toward you.

He stops close enough to be annoying. “You look stressed,” he says, voice low like he’s genuinely concerned. “Didn’t sleep well last night?”

Your fingers tighten around your clipboard. God, you want to smack him with it.

“Or… wait,” he adds, tilting his head. His eyes flick down over your figure. “You looked a little… distracted out there. See something you liked?”

You finally turn to him, expression flat and unimpressed, exhausted in that way only Jungkook can conjure. “That’s rich coming from a man who just pouted at the camera like a sell-out in a shampoo commercial.”

He grins, all teeth. “Don’t tell me you were watching that closely.”

He hums, dragging the back of his hand across his jaw like he’s thinking. He is not. “Was it the jacket? You like it off the shoulders? I can keep that going. For consistency, of course.”

You exhale slowly, sharply. “God, you’re the worst.” You say it through clenched teeth, laced with loathing and the last threads of restraint, every syllable a warning shot.

He only grins wider “Hm.”

You scoff, turning away and focusing on the clipboard or the set — anything but him.

That won’t stop him though. He doesn’t back off. He never backs off, not until you’re ready to scream or throw something or break, which you’re dangerously close to doing.

He licks his lips, runs a hand through his hair, and turns to walk toward the camera again.

Your grip tightens on the clipboard, nails pressing into the faux wood. Your throat burns and your skin prickles with a righteous fury that should qualify as terrorism.

You keep your expression neutral, like always, but your pulse is a traitor. You swear he can feel it from across the room.

The second the director yells cut, you’re gone. Not in a polite, professional, thanks-everyone-it-was-a-great-shoot kind of way. You don’t wait for playback or linger for wrap-up notes. You don’t even pretend to acknowledge the creative director who calls your name as you stalk past the lighting rig. You just turn on your heel and leave.

You’ve fucking had it. You’ve had it with the games, the smirks, the infuriatingly casual way Jungkook manages to dismantle your sanity with the arch of one goddamn brow. You’ve had it with how easily he slips beneath your skin like heat under a doorframe. You’ve had it with the way your body — your own traitorous body — won’t forget him.

Most of all, you’ve had it with yourself. This isn’t you. You don’t get rattled. You don’t get flustered. You don’t have emotions; not in the workplace, not for men like him.

You don’t let some overconfident, maddeningly pretty idol throw your entire internal compass off its axis.

So that’s it. You’re done.

One time. One mistake. End of story.

It never should have happened, and it sure as hell won’t happen again. Jungkook is just a blip, a glitch in the system, a fleeting indulgence. A moment of weakness you will not allow yourself to repeat.

All that to say — you head straight for his trailer, where you had seen him wander off immediately after the crew had wrapped.

You don’t even knock. It’s more of a courtesy tap before the door swings open and you step inside, all adrenaline and simmering fury and terrible judgment.

Suddenly, a wave of regret flushes through your entire being when you spot him. He’s lounging on the small leather couch like he owns the world. The jean jacket is gone, chest bare under the fluorescent light of the 80-square foot box. His hair’s a mess, damp at the temples, curling in a way that’s just cruel.

You freeze for a second, mostly because he looks like sin reincarnate and knows it.

He looks up at the noise and raises one eyebrow. His gaze drags slowly, down the length of you like he’s flipping through a menu. “To what do I owe the honor?”

You cross your arms. It’s part defense mechanism, part reflex, part an attempt to ignore the way heat is already crawling up your spine. “We need to talk.”

He stretches with his arms overhead, back arching, every line of muscle flexing. He then sinks deeper into the couch like this is his show and you’re just here for entertainment.

“This should be good,” he says, head tilted, grin lazy. He doesn’t sit up or even pretend to take you seriously. He just watches you, slowly blinking.

“You know,” he drawls, “I get it. You’re fighting a losing battle. Must be exhausting after getting a taste of me.”

You roll your eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t fall out of your skull. “No, actually.”

You exhale, tighter now. Your arms fold tighter across your chest. You look anywhere but directly at him because one more glance at that ridiculously golden, unfairly sculpted torso and you’ll forget what English sounds like. “I came here to tell you that whatever that was in LA? That’s not happening again.”

A shit-eating grin spreads across his face, “Oh? You sure about that?”

“Yes.” You snap the word too fast like you’re trying to cut off your own uncertainty before it can betray you.

But Jungkook catches it and his eyes flicker.

He leans forward, elbows braced on his knees, fingers loose between his thighs, body language all nonchalance and arrogance. His expression doesn’t shift much, just a glint of amusement threading through the dark of his gaze. Like this is funny to him. Like you’re funny.

“You sure?” he says, voice pitched just enough to grate. “Because you don’t look very sure.”

Well, fuck you. You’re not. And that’s the problem, isn’t it? Not him. Not the trailer. Not the fact that his abs are ten feet from your face and he’s still smirking like the devil on a good day.

The problem is you. You’re the one who cracked. You’re the one who came to his trailer. You’re also the one who kissed him like you meant it and moaned his name and said ‘thank you’ like those were your favorite fucking words. You swallow the truth before it can rise, pin your spine straight, steel your voice, and meet him with a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “This will never be a thing, Jungkook.”

He blinks with faux curiosity. “This? What exactly is this? Because last time I checked, you were the one kissing me back.”

“It was a mistake.” Your voice cracks a little.

He hums like he’s rolling the next words around his mouth just to see how it feels on his tongue. “Yeah?” he says. “Seemed pretty fucking intentional to me.”

Your nails dig into your palms. You want to slap that look off his face. You want to scream. You want to throw something.

“Let me make this clear. Whatever happened between us is done,” you bite, every word clipped. “It meant nothing. And it will never, ever happen again.”

Jungkook just looks at you. Then, that slow, infuriating curl of his lips that says you’re lying and we both know it. That look that lives rent-free in the back of your mind no matter how many times you try to evict it. “If you say so, sweetheart.”

That’s what fucking kills you. It’s not the denial or the pushback or the audacity of the pet name. It’s that he doesn’t argue or protest.

He just sits there, calm and smug, like all he has to do is outlast your resolve and you’ll come undone all over again.

You inhale sharply, forcing the tremble out of your voice, trying to gather what little dignity you have left. “You think this is funny?”

Standing there in his trailer, flushed and heart pounding in your ears, the sting isn’t just in your skin; it’s in your pride. The way Jungkook leans back like your anger is amusing — it guts you in a way no man has before. This isn’t entirely new. You’ve built an entire career bulldozing men who thought they could outmaneuver you, talk over you, pat you on the head and call it a compliment. And yet he’s somehow doing what no one else ever could: getting under your skin. He’s dismissing you like you’re not the sharpest person in the room. That’s the part you can’t survive. Because if he doesn’t take you seriously, you lose everything.

“Let me remind you of something, Jungkook,” you say, cutting clean through the thick air between you. “I am in charge around here. I’m the reason you’re even working with us.“

He watches you silently. He’s letting you talk to see how far you’ll go before you crack again.

You step closer to him without your mind even realizing. You’re close enough for him to know you mean it. “I’ve worked my ass off to get where I am. You’re just another contract. Another pretty face in a stack of numbers I’ve already filed away in my brain.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you add, tone like steel. “You’re just some guy. Nothing more.”

His lips twitch. It’s not a smile nor laugh, it’s a flicker that screams you poor thing, you still don’t get it, and he’s three steps ahead and generously letting you believe you’re in control.

“You’re right,” Jungkook says, soaked in condescension. “You do run all of this.“

He tilts his head, eyes sharpening. “But you don’t really run me.”

He doesn’t move but somehow, it still feels like you’ve been pushed back. He’s peeling your confidence off, layer by layer, without even lifting a single finger.

“You can sit there in your perfect little outfit,” he says, gaze dragging over your clothes with infuriating precision, “and pretend like this is nothing.”

His eyes pause on your mouth and linger. “But I heard you in LA. I felt you. I know exactly how you sound… how you taste.”

“You think I’m scared of you?” you quip. “You think you’re the first man who thought he could shake me? Get under my skin? Please.”

Jungkook’s tongue pushes against the inside of his cheek. “I think,” he counters, “I’m the first one who actually did.”

You hate that you don’t have an answer to that, not one that doesn’t sound like a lie even in your own head.

The truth is a hell of a lot worse than anything he could say out loud.

You lean into him, deflecting all possible thoughts that scream at you in your head to do otherwise. You know him well enough now. You know what throws him off, what catches him mid-smirk, mid-thought, mid-breath.

“You know what I think, Jungkook?” you murmur, your voice the kind of calm that comes right before the storm. “I think you want me… and you’re mad I’m not begging for you.”

Your hand rises before you even think about it, fingertips pressing against the bare plane of his chest. Your hands trace along his collarbone, then glide downward.

His back eases into the couch with a quiet, reluctant exhale, his shoulders dropping, eyes never leaving yours.

And then suddenly, you’re hovering on top of him, hand gripping the couch headrest to steady yourself.

If he tilted his head, just barely, your mouths would meet. Your breath mingles with his in the space between you. There is a subtle twitch of his hands against the cushion, like he’s holding himself back from grabbing you by the waist and dragging you down.

You should really move away.

“Yeah?” he rasps like it’s scraping its way out of his throat. “What makes you think that?”

You should walk away. You should call it for what it is — dangerous, reckless, completely off-script.

Your painted nails drag lightly down his chest, and you lean down until your lips hover just above his jaw.

You let your mouth brush against the sharp edge of his jaw, a light kiss; it’s more suggestion than action, more threat than promise.

Jungkook goes still. When you finally pull back, his smirk is gone.

God, if you stay here another second, he’s going to grab you and make a liar out of both of you.

Jungkook’s breath is shallow, his chest rising and falling beneath your fingertips like you’ve got a hand pressed to a live wire.

The wire snaps pretty shortly after that. It’s just another lapse in judgement, right?

You’re kissing him. You don’t know who leans in — if it’s you, if it’s him, if it even matters —because the second your lips crash against his, the world narrows down to this one moment. This one reckless, dizzying, repeated offense.

Your hands dive into his hair, dragging through the strands as his fingers clamp down on your hips. Now you’re really climbing into his lap, knees sinking into the couch cushions, your thighs bracketing his. Your skirt hikes up and his hands don’t help. He groans into your mouth like the sound’s been buried in his chest since LA and finally clawed its way out.

Maybe you missed this more than you want to admit.

This doesn’t feel like some impulsive relapse. It feels inevitable. Like the universe was always going to twist you back together, no matter how many warnings you whispered to yourself or how many times you tried to label it a mistake.

Your nails scrape against his scalp as he licks into your mouth possessively. Your body is burning from the inside out when he’s kissing you like you’re oxygen and he’s been drowning.

He shifts under you, grinding up just slightly, and your breath hitches, completely out of your control. Right now, with his hands digging into your thighs and his tongue in your mouth and his cock pressing hard against you through his jeans, consequences don’t exist.

“Knew you’d come back to me,” he mutters, lips dragging across your jaw.

“Been dreaming about you,” he adds, “Every fucking night.”

Something volatile in you snaps. Maybe it’s the arrogance in his voice. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s right. Maybe it’s that he knows he’s right, and you’re sick of it. Your hand moves before you even register it, fingers curling around his jaw, forcing his face up until he’s looking at you. “You talk too much.”

“Oh, yeah?” He smiles lightly.

Your nails drag down the side of his neck, a slow glide of pressure over his pulse, and you feel it kick against your fingertips. “Use that mouth for something better.”

Jungkook lets out a low, broken laugh, but he doesn’t waste a second. His mouth is on your jaw, trailing down your neck, teeth grazing and your head tips back.

Oh god, this is wrong. You know that. You knew it before you walked in. You knew it in LA. You know it now. But when his mouth hits your collarbone and his lips suck just hard enough to make you arch, logic doesn’t stand a chance.

His hands slide up, fingers dipping under the hem of your shirt, thumbs brushing the edges of your ribs like he’s holding you steady.

You hate how good he is at this. You hate how easily your body gives in. You hate that he’s smug about it, that he dreamed this exact moment and now he’s watching it play out in real time.

“You wanna pretend you don’t need this?” he murmurs, “Wanna pretend you don’t want me?”

“Fucking knew it,” he says, and you swear you can hear the smirk in his voice, even as his teeth graze your jaw and his hips grind up into you again.

Your fingers dig into his hair, yanking his head back, and he gasps, eyes flying open, dark and glassy and so full of want it makes you ache.

“You think you know everything,” you breathe, drunk on the rush of having him under you, on you, wanting you.

His hands slide down, grabs your hips again, and grinds you down on him harder.

“I know you, angel,” he exhales. “I know that when I touch you like this, you lose your mind.”

Your stomach tightens, jaw clenching with the effort it takes to stay composed, but your body betrays you, thighs twitching around his hips. “Look at you,” he muses, grinning like the smug bastard he is. His hands slip lower,tugging at the waistband of your skirt like he has every right to. “Acting like you’re still in control when you’re probably dripping for me.”

Your nails dig into his shoulder, sharp enough to leave a mark, and your breath stutters, but it’s not because he’s wrong. It’s because he’s right.

Your laugh cuts through the air as you grind down on him. The friction is deliberate, cruel, and so very satisfying when Jungkook chokes on a gasp, head falling back, eyes fluttering shut. His fingers tense at your waist, trying to hold on.

“You think you know me?” you sneer, your fingers drifting up his chest, feather-light but scorching all the same. He feels you grind against him again, another sinfully slow drag of your body against the hard length straining beneath his jeans. “You’re the one falling apart right now.”

Jungkook groans and his palms dig into your hips as if he’s seconds away from losing whatever self-control he has left. “Aw,” you coo, your other hand twisting into his hair and yanking, just enough to make his head fall back, just enough to watch his eyes flutter and his lips part in a gasp. “All that talk, and now you’re sitting here, hard as fuck, just waiting for me to do something about it.”

His cock twitches beneath you, and you feel every inch of it. “Poor boy,” you purr “Thought you were supposed to be ruining me?”

“F-Fuck,” he gasps, his hands twitching like he wants to hold you still, wants to flip the script but you refuse to let him. You keep grinding and dragging him to the edge and smiling as he trembles for you.

“You gotta…” he pants, hips jerking up in a desperate, fruitless attempt for more. “Fuck, baby, you gotta stop—“

It slips out of his mouth mid-grind of your hips. It shouldn’t matter but it knocks the wind out of you like he’s pulled something tight from your chest without warning. Your brain stutters, stalls, like what the fuck was that, like who gave him permission to make it sound like more than it is. It’s not sweet or tender. But still...softened at the edges and intimate in a way you weren’t prepared for. He called you that before but this time it clings to your skin long after he says it, echoing in your head like a bruise you don’t want to look at too closely.

“Stop?” you echo sweetly, grinding harder, dragging your clothed core over the thick bulge in his jeans until he’s gasping, until his fingers go white-knuckled at your waist.

“Oh my god,” he chokes out.

“What’s wrong, Jungkook?” you whisper, your lips hovering but never touching his. “Not as fun when you’re the one begging, huh?”

“Fuck, please,” he breathes, forehead pressing to yours, his body trembling like it’s too much and not enough all at once.

“Please what,” you murmur, dragging your fingers down his stomach, stopping at the waistband of his jeans. “You gotta be more specific, baby.”

“Please, just… do something,” he begs,“I’m gonna fucking cum in my pants like a middle schooler if you don’t.”

God, the way you grin. Last time he had you gasping, whimpering, begging. Now it’s your turn.

“Aw,” you croon,“Sounds like a you problem.”

Your hand slips lower. When he realizes your palm is pressing down, cupping him through the heavy denim of his jeans… it’s game over.

“F-fuck, oh my f-fucking god,” he gasps, full-body jerking into your touch like he didn’t mean to and his hips have developed a mind of their own. His fists clench around the cushions, chest heaving, his lip disappearing between his teeth with such force you’re genuinely concerned he might rip that lip ring straight out.

Your fingers start to move, lazy circles over the aching bulge beneath his jeans. “You’ve really been thinking about this all day, haven’t you?” you whisper, and the way his throat bobs is almost funny.

“Fuck, yes,” Jungkook chokes out.”You have no idea.”

“You looked so fucking good today.” His voice breaks on the word good, hips bucking up into your hand,“I couldn’t, I fucking… baby, I swear to god—”

“You swear to god what, Jungkook?” you ask sweetly, tilting your head, “That you’re gonna beg me to let you fuck me?”

“C’mon, please—” he pants, and god, he’s so far gone, his voice is just a thread now, pulled tight and fraying. His hands cup your ass, yanking you down harder, grinding himself into your palm like pride is a thing he gave up fifteen minutes ago. “Please, please, fuck, just let me.”

“Let you what, hm?” you purr. His mouth falls open and nothing comes out but the sound of a man breaking.

“Let me fuck you.” His eyes meet yours, a tinge of desperation behind them.

“Fine,” you sigh as if it’s a chore, like you’re granting a favor to a desperate fan, even as your hand drifts to the zipper of his jeans, fingers working it open painfully slow.

“Since you asked so nicely,” you add, as you finally shift, lifting your hips just enough to tug his jeans down over his thighs. You hook your fingers in the waistband of his boxers — the Calvin Kleins, of course.

You push the fabric down and his cock slaps up against his stomach. He’s soaked with precum that smears wetly across the ridges of his tip, dripping down the thick length.

Jungkook gasps and his cock twitches helplessly. The sight of him panting and at your mercy makes your stomach tighten.

“F-fuck,” He’s barely resisting the impulse to grab you, flip you, shove himself inside you and end the torture you’re so expertly delivering.

Yet, he stays right where you’ve left him because he’s that far gone for you. You’ve taken him apart piece by piece and he’s letting you. If letting you stay in control is what it takes to fuck you again, he’ll give you everything.

“You look like you’re in pain, baby,” you say, mock-sympathetic, your register so sweet it might rot teeth.

“I am in pain,” he grits out, his jaw clenched so tight it looks like it might crack. “So fucking do something about it.”

He looks like he’s five seconds away from ripping through his own skin just to get to you.

The second you shift and start to lift off him, he lets out a choked sound. You stand up, reach for the buttons of your blouse, still absurdly corporate considering what you’re about to do.

You slide it off and the fabric slips down your arms and pools to the floor in one smooth motion.

His breathing turns shaky as his hand moves. It’s slow at first, wrapping around his cock, dragging his fist down the flushed, dripping length because it physically hurts to wait any longer. His thumb swipes over the tip, gathering precum, slicking the motion.

Your fingers trail down your sides, circling over the waistband of your skirt, watching the way his eyes follow every movement like he’s been starved. His Adam’s apple bobs hard.

“So slow,” he spits out, his hand now moving faster over his cock,“You’re actually trying to kill me.”

The zipper slides down. The skirt pools at your ankles. You step out of it with ease, black heels still on, lace still clinging to your body like a perfectly wrapped gift.

“Take it off,” he demands, abs flexing with every ragged breath and precum now smeared across his hand and stomach.

“Ask nicely,” you purr, fingers drifting up your sides to snap the straps of your bra, not even touching the clasp yet, just taunting, because if anyone deserves to be edged to insanity, it’s him.

“Fucking please,” he begs “Please, baby, I’m gonna lose it, please just let me—“

And then, finally you reach behind you, unhook the clasp, and let your bra slip down your arms. Your thumbs hook into the waistband of your underwear, dragging them down, one long torturous inch at a time, stepping out of them like you have all the time in the world.

And now you’re standing there wearing nothing but your heels.

“Oh my god,” he pants, his cock twitching violently in his grip, “Oh my fucking god.”

He stares up at you, and he’s not sure whether to worship you or find a way to survive you.

“Get the fuck back on me,” he growls, hand pumping faster and sloppier, like he’s seconds away from finishing. “Before I lose it.”

The second you climb back into his lap, it’s like you’ve triggered something primal. Jungkook’s hands fly to your waist, gripping tight. Like he’s genuinely on the brink of blacking out if you don’t let him inside you right now. Honestly, he might be.

His cock twitches against your entrance, dragging through your soaked folds as you hover above him, teasing both of you. The anticipation is borderline unbearable — it’s not even sexy anymore, kind of like pleasure and pain are having a screaming match in your bloodstream.

You take his cock in your hands, sink down and the stretch hits you like a slap, your mouth falling open on a sound you don’t even recognize. Your nails rake down his arms as your thighs clamp around his waist, the fullness hitting too deep.

“Oh my… fuck!” you gasp, chest heaving, your hands scrambling for something to hold onto.

“F-fuck, you’re so tight. So f-fucking perfect,” he moans, and it’s not even cocky anymore.

His hands slip lower, grab handfuls of your ass, trying to coax you into moving. The stretch is insane. Every nerve in your body is screaming and your brain is trying to make sense of how full you are, how your walls are fluttering around him like you’ve already started to fall apart.

“Sh-shit Jungkook,” you whimper, biting your lip.

The second you move, it’s a full-body reaction: your back arches, another desperate sound spills from your mouth.

Jungkook chokes on some animalistic noise. “Goddamn… so good,” he mutters, and it’s barely a sentence, seemingly escaping his mouth before he could process the words.

You start to move, riding him hard. It’s just you, bouncing on his cock like you’ve got something to prove. The pace is rough, your body slamming down on him again and again, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the trailer, your tits bouncing with every movement.

You don’t care if the entire team is standing outside the door right now. You’re not stopping.

You’re riding him like you’re trying to make him forget his own name. His jeans are a disaster, absolutely unsalvageable. Your slick is everywhere, dripping down his thighs, smeared across both your bodies, pooling beneath the waistband like a crime scene.

“You’re— fuck!” he gasps, his hips snapping up to meet you, “You’re so hot.”

You’d laugh at how basic that is, how scrambled his brain must be to resort to that, but you’re too busy falling apart.

The pleasure’s coming in these brutal, unrelenting waves. Every time he unknowingly thrusts up into you, it’s too much and not enough at once.

Your eyes meet his and something in your chest snaps, burns to ash on the spot. The look on his face is full of hunger and awe.

His cock twitches violently inside you, thick and buried so deep you can barely take it. “Oh my god.”

His eyes are glued to yours like you’re hypnotizing him, like he’s afraid to blink and miss the moment you break. “You’re — fuck! — you’re so fucking hot like this,” he gets out, his head falling forward. His body is shaking underneath you, sweat sticking to his skin.

Your whole body jolts, muscles clenching, heat coiling in your stomach so fast it steals the air from your lungs. You’re shaking now, the pressure building with terrifying speed.

“That’s it, baby,” he whines. His hips slam up into you harder now, fucking into you with everything he has left. “Fucking cum for me.”

Your orgasm hits like a car crash. Your body seizes violently, your thighs shaking so hard it feels like you might actually collapse. Your walls clench around him like you’re trying to pull him deeper even though he’s already as deep as it gets.

He nearly sobs, his hands tightening so hard on your waist you’re pretty sure you’ll have bruises tomorrow. “Fuck, baby,” His thighs lock, his abs contract, his breath punches out of him in ragged bursts.

You don’t give him a second to recover, and you barely let yourself breathe, because no, this isn’t over. Not even close. You’re not done until he’s broken and he’s begging.

“That’s cute,” you tease, leaning in, nails digging into his arms. “If you think I’m done with you.”

You can’t be, not when there’s still more to take, not when he hasn’t learned his lesson yet.

Your hands slide down to his thighs, steadying yourself, lifting just slightly. You plant your heels in the couch cushions, spread your legs wider, adjust your angle. You drop, sinking down again.

“Oh my f-fucking god,” His eyes flick down and you feel the way his whole body seizes as he watches his cock disappear into you again, and again, and again. The new angle has him hitting deeper.

“Holy fuck, you feel so good,” he groans.

You glance down for a second and… fuck. Your bodies are conjoined by a mix of your juices and some of his precum. You nearly moan again just from the visual.

“I’m not done with you, baby,” you breathe out, still high from the rush of your orgasm but already building again. You say it just to see the way his eyes snap to yours.

“Then fucking prove it.” He challenges.

You feel like a pornstar. Not in a glamorous, cinematic, airbrushed kind of way. The kind that lives in browser history and shame.

Your designer heels dig into the couch cushions, the extra height forcing your thighs wider, forcing your body into a position so filthy it should’ve been choreographed. You’re fully exposed and open, bouncing on Jungkook’s cock like you’ve never ridden anyone before.

“Holy. fucking. shit.” he gasps, each word punched out of him by another bounce of your hips, his hands gripping tighter like he doesn’t know what part of this is real and what part is a hallucination sent from hell.

His eyes trace the way your slick coats his cock, watching himself disappear into you. “Fucking yourself on my cock like you were made for it.”

“You love this, don’t you?” You manage to get out as your nails drag down his sweat-slicked chest, scoring red across tight muscle. You’re so far gone you can barely remember your own name, let alone why this is a bad idea.

Your walls flutter around him, dangerously close, your body already spiraling again.

“You love making a mess on me,” he grits out. You let out a whimper, fingers digging harder into his chest because you can’t stop now. You don’t want to stop.

The trailer is literally shaking. The walls rattle. The couch groans like it’s begging for mercy. Something in the ceiling creaks ominously.

Jungkook’s cock is slamming into you at a pace that shouldn’t even be possible, stretching you open so perfectly it hurts in the best way. Every bounce makes your breath stutter. Every desperate snap of his hips leaves you shaking uncontrollably, dripping around him, coming undone all over again.

You’re also being embarrassingly loud. Anyone passing by the trailer probably thinks someone is being murdered inside.

Jungkook sounds just as destroyed. His moan is guttural, ripped straight from his chest. “You love riding this cock, huh? Love how deep I get inside you?”

“Fuck yes,” you breathe, bouncing harder now. “Bet you don’t even care if people can hear us. Bet you’d love for them to know how fucking desperate you are for this pussy.”

His eyes fly open and he wraps an arm around your hips and slams you down on him, over and over, forcing you to take every brutal, devastating inch.

“Oh my god,” he groans, voice “Fuck, I’m gonna—”

His hands are shaking where they hold you, every muscle straining, every ounce of control hanging by a single, snapping thread.

The second he cums, his whole body goes rigid. He slams you down one final time, so deep you cry out, his cock buried to the hilt.

You don’t dare let him get lost in it. You lean in close, grab his jaw with one hand and force his eyes back on yours. “Look at me while you fucking cum.”

He listens, mostly because he’s so fucking gone for you. So wrapped around your finger that even now he gives you everything.

His eyes flutter open, but they stay on yours. Jungkook’s body trembles violently beneath you as you grind down slowly, milking every last drop from him.

“You talk so much shit, baby,” you murmur, “Thinking you’re the one who gets to ruin me.”

His cock is still buried inside you, still spurting the last desperate pulses of his orgasm so deep it feels like he’s trying to mark you from the inside out.

“But look at you now,” you purr, tilting his chin up with two fingers. “Cumming so hard for me,.”

“Fuck,” His lips are kiss-bruised and swollen, red from all the biting. His lip ring is cool against your thumb as you drag it across his mouth slowly, admiring your handiwork.

“Mhm.” You smirk, cocking your head, “Will there be no thank you?”

He just stares back at you, heavy-lidded. There’s something behind his gaze that you can’t quite read, something murky and not nearly as simple as it should be.

For the first time in a long time, it unsettles you.

You inhale sharply, trying to force air into your lungs like it’ll reset your brain. Like it’ll snap you out of whatever the hell this is, this thing tightening in your chest that has no business being here.

You shift off his lap, his cock slipping out of you with a soft, wet drag that makes both of you twitch. You roll over onto the couch beside him, eyes locked on the ceiling, your heartbeat trying and failing to find a steady rhythm.

You should leave. You should slide your clothes back on, straighten your spine, toss out some cold remark and storm out the way you did last time. Armor re-secured.

You should also say something biting that re-establishes the pecking order.

You just lie there for a few more seconds.

Finally, you sit up. You reach for your shirt, sliding it back over your shoulders, buttoning it with calm, practiced precision. You run a hand through your hair. You don’t even get all the buttons done before the regret slams into you, sharp and immediate, like a slap to the face you should’ve seen coming. It’s not guilt exactly. It’s worse. It’s that sick, sinking feeling when you make a mistake.

What are you doing?

He’s Jungkook. He’s smug and annoying and way too pretty when he’s cumming, and yet somehow, you keep crawling back like he’s the only drug that hits. All you can think is: you’re smarter than this. But god, the sex is so good it makes you stupid. Apparently, that’s your fatal flaw.

You glance over, and Jungkook is still watching you.

Something should be said here. You should say something. He should say something.

You force steel into your spine and venom into your voice. “Try not to get too attached, Jungkook.”

He huffs out a laugh. Somehow, it’s off, not with the same bite it usually has. “Please. I was over it before you even buttoned your shirt.”

Next, you would scoff, roll your eyes and toss another barb over your shoulder before strutting out like nothing happened.

You don’t quite believe him. You also don’t know if he believes it either.

You force yourself to move. Coerce your legs to walk, your heels to click, your fingers to reach for the doorknob. You walk out like nothing’s changed, like this is still just a game you’re winning.

But the thing is: it doesn’t really feel like a victory. It feels like a warning.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

*link to pic in question here on twt also in the pic imagine jungkook sitting on a couch instead of laying down

taglist ; @lovingkoalaface @maybetheproblemisme @mimi1097 @mar-lo-pap @mysjammy @yooniepot @tinytan-gerine @ashslight @sky-23s-world @myzzysstuff @elinaki92 @7fever @munchkin-kitty7-blog @uarmygguk @jjkluver7 @coletaehyung @jkxlvrr @amarawayne @kooslilhoe @bangchanwantsmesobad @kpopslur @senaqsstuff @sugakookies77 @tteokbokibyjk @emmie2308 @neurospicynugget @prxdajeon @majesticjung-97 @jksusawife @rkivesarchive @hyunjinswifetingzz @bjoriis @nan4rf @parkinglot-nights @travelgurrl @softhaes @bexxs @magicalnachocreator @wisebouquetbarbarian

[skulla-rxcks]

Was that message for me?

Paring: friend!bang chan x afab reader

Rating: explicit

Genre: smut

Warnings: PIV, mutual msturbation, friends trope, chan thinks the message wasn’t for him, slight daddy kink, oral, fingèring

Asking best friend!Chan for help orgasming.. but he thinks the message wasn’t for him

Taglist: @f3lix00 @channiesgoodgirl @mal-lunar-28 @bangchans-gf5 @fun-fanfics @iwannabangchan @linosluver

Please dm me or use my inbox if you’d like to be added to the taglist ^^

!THIS IS PURE FICTION, NOTHING IN THIS IS REAL ITS JUST A STORY!

“Heyy can you come over? I need help :(”

“Why? You okay? What do you need help with?”

“I can’t seem to cum. Every time I try to orgasm I just seem to can’t, it’s like I’m stopped.”

“Were you meant to say that to me?” Chan asks typing his fingers across his phone, clearly confused. This message wasn’t meant for him.. right?

“Wdym?”

“You asked for help with.. you know.. uh things. That wasn’t meant for me right?”

He looks at his phone, his brows furrowing in confusing as he reads over the explicit question asked.

“Chris just come over please. It’s easier to talk in person”

I sigh my mood changing to regret as I can already see the confusion in his face even though I can’t physically see him through my phone. I end up receiving a thumbs up in response ‘thank god I didn’t just mess up our friendship completely’ I sigh in relief; and about twenty or so minutes later I hear the door bell ring; getting up from my bed and exiting my room I go and answer it, opening the door to Chan, clearly questioning what the fuck just happened not too long ago.

“So im guessing it was for me if you asked me to come over..? You did use my name after all.” He steps inside, making his way to my living room and taking a seat on the couch, I sit down next to him, both of us completely flustered.

“I’m really sorry for bringing this up I know it’s probably a bit uncomfortable talking about something like this but-” Chan cuts me off, looking at me with concern.

“No no don’t worry it’s fine! I uh, get like that sometimes I understand.. do you not own toys or anything that could.. give you a hand?” I shake my head, looking embarrassed for bringing this ‘issue’ up to someone who I’d probably consider my guy best friend.

“No.. I mean, I use the handle of my hair brush sometimes but I’ve never had this issue before.” I blush, why am I asking him about something like this? I feel like I’m going to cry out from embarrassment.

He sighs, noticing how uncomfortable I am and how much I trust him to even bring up an issue like this.

“Have you tried anything else? Pillow humping?.. uhh… maybe use more fingers if you.. never mind I’m so sorry I sound really perverted giving suggestions haha.” He laughs, trying to lighten the mood and get some of the tension out of the air that’s filling the room.

“No! Don’t worry Chan it’s fine.. I’m finding it helpful to talk about this stuff..” I mumble under my breath.

“Okay well.. are you stressed? Maybe that’s the reason I’ve heard that stress can stop people from orgasming sometimes?” He suggests, trying to get to the bottom of whatever’s happening. “I’m not sure. Can you give me a hand and see if that’s the problem maybe? I uh, maybe if someone helps me I’ll be able to..”

Chan nods slowly looking into my eyes for permission before reassuring himself with his words. “So you want me to.. help you cum? Like you want me to touch you or..” He scrunches his face, a hint of lust glazing over his features, his soft lips puckering with his expressions, a mix of frowns and smiles cover them.

I Look away, fiddling with my own hands. “If that’s okay.. hopefully it doesn’t ruin our relationship or anything.” I blush, fluttering my eyelashes at him, silently pleading for more. “Of course if that’s what you need to make you feel better then I’m happy to oblige, especially if I’m the one who can make you cum.” He chuckles, the top of his ears turning red.

I smile, beginning to take off my sweat pants along with my panties, watching as he strips himself of his bottom half as well.

“So what now..?” I ask. “Maybe we should start with mutual masturbation.. don’t wanna rush things, you know?” He smiles politely. What a gentle man he is, not rushing into anything fast, even though I’d be happy for whatever he wants to do first with me. “Okay” I nod, picking up our pants and bringing him to my bedroom and sitting down with him. “You know how to do this right?”

“We just.. masturbate side by side?” I look at him. Receiving a nod. I look at him as he starts to wrap his fist around his cock, pumping it slowly before picking up speed, the site of his dick making my insides ache and my cunt twitch with need. Watching him, I slowly thrust two fingers inside of my hole, curling them up to hit my g spot, my eyes however, are hooked onto his dick, watching him like he’s some sort of drug to me, drawing me in more and more with every stroke.

“You’re staring quite a bit, you okay?” He giggles, rubbing his spare hand on my thigh reassuringly. “Yeah yeah it’s just.. wow, I never expected to do something like this with you.. I mean, you’re probably one of my best friends after all” I shuffle closer to him, my pussy twitching around my fingers as I think about how his dick would feel inside of me; raw or protected I don’t care, I wonder how good he’d feel inside of me with his thick length, if he’d let me cum immediately or if he’d dominate me and use me to his liking; controlling whether or not I’m allowed to cum as I squirm under him.

I finally decide to let my horny thoughts get a hold of me. “I want you.. but I still can’t seem to..”

“You have me, princess. What’s on your mind?” He says, looking into my eyes with concern, noticing how needy I’m getting. He probably noticed how I was twitching around my fingers and lost in my thoughts. “I’m wondering how.. how your..” I try to get my words out but they’re tied back against my throat. “How my what?” He teases, clearly enjoying this side of me. “Tell me or I won’t give it to you, yeah?”

I nod, “I’m wondering how your dick would feel inside of me.. e-every inch and the thickness of it stretching me open.. how you’d treat me differently while I’m under you or on top.” I look away after finally spilling my words out, feeling my cheeks get hot. There’s so much more I want to say but it would take hours.

“Do you wanna stop wondering and try it out? Id be lying if I said I wasn’t wondering similar things about your pretty little pussy.. wonder how tight you are and how your face contorts as you make a pretty mess all over my dick.” He teases, reaching over into my lap to stroke his fingers over my clitoris, making me squirm with need.

“Please Chan.. Please Chris..” I beg him, using both of his names. “Good girl. Protection or no protection?” He asks, wanting to know my preference or if I want him to fill me up with his hot seed or not.

“As much as I want to risk it.. I don’t wanna accidentally you know, get impregnated and regret it once I’m not extremely fucking horny.”

“Mm that’s okay.. hopefully one day you’ll let me pump that cunt of yours up full of my cum, hm?” Chan smirks, enjoying making me into a soaking wet needy mess with his words.

He lifts his shirt over his head exposing his bare muscular body as he climbs on top of me. “Be a good girl and take your bra off for me, let me see those tits..” “yes da-“ I pause, realising what almost came out of my mouth. “Daddy huh? Fuck that made me so turned on.” He groans, reaching into his bag and finding a condom before rolling it onto his dick. While he does that I obey his order and unclip my bra, my breasts now being on display.

He licks his lips at the site of me now laying under him completely naked and vulnerable, dripping and ready for his cock. Chan positions himself at my entrance and pushes in, making me let out a moan of pleasure.

“Chris oh my god..!” I cry out, savouring the feeling of how his cock fills up my dripping needy cunt perfectly, slowly calming the urges inside of me but slowly making me want more. “Shh you’re okay.. just focus on how good I feel inside this pretty pussy, okay?”

“M-mhm..” a whimper leaves my mouth before feeling Chan press his lips against mine, his tongue parting my lips and our tongues now dancing and tangling together as his hands slowly creep their way down to my breasts massaging and playing with them making me squirm under him with even more need pulsing through my body as a result of his actions. “So fucking tight just for me..” he murmurs Into the kiss, beginning to plunge his dick in and out of my hole harder and faster. “Y-yes only for you daddy… I’m all yours ” I moan, parting away from the kiss to look into his eyes, my brain studying every scrunch and frown of pleasure lurking upon his face.

Fuck, I imagine how he must feel pounding and ruining me raw, without protection; every vein and every pulse as more blood runs to his dick making him grow and twitch inside of me. God, how I want him to fill me up and impregnate me with his children so Fucking badly. It’s definitely not right for our first time being intimate though.

“Whatcha thinking about now baby girl?” He teases again, pumping his length deeper into my pussy, I can’t even get a solid response out of my mouth it feels so fucking good. “So loud.. you gonna cum? You gonna make a mess all around my dick?”

“A-ah.. yes.. yes.. soon!” I cry, feeling myself tighten around him as I creep up the road to reach my peak. “So loud..” he chuckles, connecting his lips to my breast sucking gently on my nipple as I let loose a soft scream that turns into a loud moan as I feel him pound his length deeper Into me.

My back arching slightly from the pressure, tears starting to well up in my eyes as a loud string of moans leave my lips.

“Come for me baby~ Come for daddy~”

And so I did, screaming and crying louder than I ever had before, clenching him tighter, cumming around his cock. HARD.

Not long after I feel Chan reach his too, filling up the condom, making me feel a little bubble inside of me before pulling out, tying it up and properly disposing of it. “You sound so pretty when you cum baby? May I eat you out? Show you I can make you cum in more ways than one?” He chuckles, clearly amused with himself at the mess he’s created

“Please..” I pout, the thought of his plush soft lips against my clit and his tongue thrusting in and out of my needy little hole making me go feral.

“Only for you.” he smirks. I shivering as he slowly makes his way down to my cunt, licking and trailing his tongue down from my breasts until he reaches his desired destination. He grips his hands around my thighs, gently prying them open before attaching his lips to my now swollen clitoris flicking it with his tongue as his beady brown eyes look up at me and watch while I throw my head back in pleasure. “C-Chris..! Ah..”

“You taste just as good as you look..” Chan groans into my pussy, making me whimper even more this time due to the vibrations of his voice flowing through me and my pussy. “Fuck! You’re ruining me..!~” I sob out in pleasure, my hand reaching down to push his face deeper into my folds, needing more of his mouth, which only causes him to start moving his tongue and lips faster.

“Chris!! Don’t do that ill-“ I try to warn him but it’s too late, I’ve already made a mess of myself all over his face.

“Well at least you’re not complaining are you?” God, even his way of words makes me so horny.

I shake my head. “Good girl. My good girl.” He grins, moving his head up from my crotch to my face, forcing his lips on mine making me taste myself. “Mmph!?-“ I gasp against his lips as he pushes two fingers inside of me, bending them and moving them back and forth against that sweet spot inside of me.

“You like that baby girl? Tell me what you like about my hands.. since you stare at them so often you must have some naughty thoughts about them, yeah?” Chan pulls away from the kiss, a string of saliva still connecting our lips as he waits for my response.

“Y-yes.. I.. i Imagine your fingers in me as I touch myself, but f-fuck they’re so much better and faster than mine.” I connect my lips back to his, our tongues beginning to swirl and twirl again. “Get on your knees for me.” He demands me, I let out a whine of disappointment as he pulls his fingers out of my pussy. “Mhm..” I smile, getting down on my knees and looking up at him. “I ate your pretty little pussy so now it’s time for you to wrap that mouth around me.,”

“Yes”

“Yes what?”

“Yes daddy.”

“Such a good girl you are, already knowing your place” he praises. I wrap my mouth around his already dripping cock and start taking him Into my mouth, sucking him. The flavour of his precum hitting my taste buds making me feel special, making me feel that I’m maybe definitely more than a friend to him.

“You wanna take me deeper? Think you can do it?” I nod, my mouth filled with his dick, I take him deeper and deeper, slowly beginning to deep throat him. Accidentally gaging around his length in the process.

“Your throats so tight baby. Im Gonna cum soon fucking swallow every drop of me.” I look up at him, he’s biting his lip as he spills his seed down my throat, I swallow it all, hungry for every bit of his cock, I whine slightly as he pulls out of my mouth, a tiny bit of his semen still dripping down my chin, I lick it up greedily.

“Good girl. Did you get what you wanted? Happy you could finally cum?”

I nod, now laying down with him and snuggling my head against his chest like a lost kitten.

“If you ever need help again don’t hesitate to call me baby girl.”

“Same for you Chris.”

[florihaei]

• ౨ৎ ────── HEAVY HANDS, TENDER HEART ⟡ 🫐 ₊ ˖ ་.

˖ ！for my love lee jeno ❞ 💭 ( 이제노 ) ꒰ lee!jeno x fem!reader

in which … lee jeno fights battles inside and outside the ring, but the hardest one is keeping you at arm’s length. when misunderstandings and bruised hearts threaten to pull the both of you apart, jeno has to choose, keep guarding himself, or fight for the one person he can’t afford to lose ⟡ 🫐

⟡ 🫐 - boxer jeno !, angst/ suggestive/fluff- miscommunication, mentions of physically injures(bruises, cuts), happy ending!, names : pretty, baby, pretty girl, angel!

౨ৎ … WC - 2k! ( FLORIHAEI’S VALUT )

⟡ 🫐 秋のメモ… ︵ ︵ ིྀ - decided to do a little change to the theme, i don’t know how to feel about it! let me know!!, but feedback and reblogs are always greatly appreciated!!, please enjoy!!

©florihaei 2025 ꒰ do not rewrite, copy, repost, or translate any of my works without permission ۟ ׅ ͡ ୨ৎ

the gym always smelled like sweat every time you came. punching bags swayed the ceiling, the sound of gloves hitting the leather echoing off the concrete wall as. and the center of it all stood. lee jeno, your boyfriend, your boxer, your biggest heartbreak waiting to happen.

you watched him from the corner bench, arms crossed tightly against your chest. his movement were sharp. there was something so captivating about how focused he was. but today, you weren’t just here to admire him. today you were here because he hadn’t answered your calls in three days.

jeno ducked under a punch form his partner and finished with a clean uppercut. the partner stumbled back, waving a gloved hand to signal to end the match. jeno ripped off his gloves, tossing them to the side, and finally after what felt like ages his eyes met yours.

you stood up, tension stiffening in your spine.

“hey” he said as his voice was low and rough from his match you guessed.

“hey..” you stared at him, taking in his he bruises that were going along his jaw. “you good?”

he shrugged, wiping his face with a towel. “it’s just training.”

“you didn’t call me back” your voices cracked a little bit, and you hated that.

jeno avoided your gaze, tossing the towel onto a bench. “i’ve been busy.”

you stepped closer, feeling like you were standing at the edge of a cliff. “too busy to text me once?”

there was a moment of silence. the sound of gloves hitting bags filled the air again, but it feels like the world had shrunk to just you and him.

“im not trying to hurt you” jeno muttered, finally looking at you, and you just wished he hadn’t. his expression was closed off, his expression was closed off, his guard up, like you weren’t just another opponent.

“then what are you trying to do jeno?” your voice was small, honest…

he breathed out sharply through his nose. “im trying to focus, i have a fight coming up. I don’t need distractions..”

those words hit harder than any punch.

“oh” you laughed bitterly, wrapping your arms around yourself: “right .. im a distraction”

he flinched like he hadn’t meant for it to come out like that. but it was too late. you were already backing away, your chest filled with hurt.

“good luck with your next fight” you said tightly, turning before he could see your eyes blur with tears.

-

you didn’t hear from jeno for a week.

you didn’t watch his fight, event those you saw it trending online.

you didn’t answer when he text late at night, with two simple words, “im sorry”

you didn’t trust yourself to answer, because if you did, you knew you would forgive him to easily, and you weren’t sure if you should.

but love is messy, it’s stupid, it doesn’t listen to your logic.

so when someone knocks on your door at midnight two days later, you knee before you opened it that it was him.

jeno stood there, hoodie pulled low over his forehead, hands shoved into his pockets. a fresh cut split the corner of his lip, and bruises shadowed his knuckles.

“can i come in?” he asked, voice horse.

you hesitated, every instinct screaming at you to protect yourself, but you stepped aside anyway.

he walked in slowly, like he was scared to break something. you stayed by the door, watching him like he might vanish.

for a long moment, neither of you said anything.

then jeno finally turned to face you, his walls down for once, his eyes raw and vulnerable.

“i won” he said quietly. “the fight.. i won”

you nodded stiffly. “congrats”

he swallowed hard. “it didn’t feel good.”

that caught you off guard. “what?”

jeno ran a hand through his messy hair, pacing a little like he was in the ring again, trying to find the right angle.

“i thought winning would fix everything, i thought if i just.. pushed everyone away, i could focus.. be better. be stronger”

he stopped, fist clenching at his sides.

“but i was wrong, i was so fucking wrong baby.”

you pressed your back against the door, trying to keep steady as he stepped closer.

“you’re not a distraction ___” jeno said, his voice breaking. “you’re the only thing that’s keeping me sane”

tears stared to prick your eyes, but you blinked them away. “then why did you push me away jeno?”

he looked at you like you were asking him to pull his own heart out. “because i was scared angel.. scared that if i let myself need you, and something happened.. i’d lose everything”

“you wouldn’t lose me jen” you whispered. “you never had to choose between fighting and loving me.”

he stepped closer, so close that you could feel the heart radiating off him, you could smell the faint scent of leather and sweat clung to his skin.

“i know that now pretty.”

his hands hesitantly, then dropping again, like he didn’t know if he had the right to touch you anymore.

you reached for his first.

your fingers brushed against his bruised knuckles, gently and tenderly, and jeno let out a shaken breath like the smallest touch was enough to undo him.

“i’m sorry” he whispered again. “for everything baby”

you nodded, your throat too tight to speak. then he reached up, cupping his batted face, pulling him down for a kiss.

it wasn’t perfect, he winched slightly against the cut on his lips, but it didn’t matter. it was real, it was yours.

when you pulled away, jeno pressed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes.

“i love you” he said, his voice raw.

you let out a broken laugh, tears finally slipping free. “i love you too idiot”

he smiled, it was small.. real, the kind of smile you hadn’t seen in weeks.

“stay?” you whispered.

he nodded without hesitation, pulling you tightly against his chest like he was scared you might slip away again.

“always..”

jeno was a fighter in and out of the ring, but when he was with you, he didn’t have to fight anymore he could just be him.

[poorlilpubby]

Being kept in my dog cage, legs and arms restricted so I'm face down ass up. Presenting like a good lil pup. Owner putting a vibrator inside my cunt and just leaving me there. It can be controlled remotely so I feel the vibrations change patterns. I writhe around in my restraints, trying to angle the toy against my most sensitive spots. Im absolutely soaked and moaning. But im not allowed to cum without permission. Whenever my owner comes back into the room im begging to cum, pleading for an orgasm. My owner just kneels down, grabbing my face. "Whiny mutt, I should put a muzzle on you next time"

[jeanscowgirl]

toji x f!reader

smut smut smut

idek what i wrote, just feeling freaky...

nottttt proof read

warnings: smut (mdni), soft(?) dom(?) toji, fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, slight daddy kink for a split second, other stufff, reader egging toji on, toji is too sweet to reallyyyy punish reader, i think thats it

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

you knew what you were doing, you alwaysss knew what you were doing. flirting with tojis friends across the table at dinner? check. 

toji sat next to you, hand gently placed on your thigh, until you started to piss him off. each comment you made to another individual at the table, his grip got harder, hard enough to leave marks. you didn’t stop though, you keptttt pushing. 

toji was furious and you could tell. 

dinner was over and everyone went their respective ways. 

your car was silent. 

toji drove home silent. not a word out of his mouth. his hand however, did remain gripped onto your thigh. the closer you got to home, the tighter the grip got. 

you squeaked a bit as his nails were starting to hurt, which just made him scoff and grip harder. tears brimmed at your eyes because of the constant sting on your thighs. but, toji didn’t even spare you a glance. 

you arrived home and toji let go of your thigh, turned the car off, and walked into the house. he didn’t wait for you, didn’t say anything to you, just left the car with you in it. 

you didn’t immediately go into the house either (which you’d regret later on). after waiting 5 minutes too long, you walk into the house. toji was on the couch, tv on, he seemed fine. 

you headed up to your room to change out of the dress you wore to dinner. you set your stuff down and faced the bed to change. your back to the (open) bedroom door. 

you reached for the zipper on the back of your dress before something pushed you forward onto the bed. 

you yelped at the sudden force. toji just scoffed the same way he did before, hand holding you down flat against the bed. 

“toji let me up,” you begged

still holding you down, he leaned forward near your face, “no” was all he said before moving the hand holding your back to yank your hair up to look at him. 

“gonna apologize?” he asked, grip still tight on your loose hair. 

“i-im sorry toji” you squeaked out. 

“thats nice,” he dropped your head and lifted your dress up over your ass. purple lace panties on full display. 

using two fingers, he rubbed over your panties, making you whine. he kept teasing slowly, making you squirm. 

still no sounds or words out of him though, he stayed completely silent. 

toji then slid off the lace, gentle in his actions, he was being careful. 

he tapped onto your waist, “hips up please” 

so you listened. 

your upper half was still flat on the bed, ass in the air with your legs parted just enough so he had access. 

and with zero warning at all, he shoved two fingers into your cunt, immediately pumping in and out at a fast pace. 

“ah! toji t-too much” you yell, half of your face pressed into the mattress. 

he doesn’t say anything though, he just laughs. still pumping his fingers, curling them to hit your spot every few pumps. 

you cry out from pleasure but also overwhelmed at the sudden rough and fast fingers abusing your pussy. 

you were getting close already, “t-toji i-” you tried to tell him but he cut you off with a sharp “shut up.” 

“but i-” he cuts you off again, “no.” and gets faster with his movements.

tears are falling down your face. you try to hold out your orgasm until you get permission but as soon as you try to make out another sentence, you squirt all over tojis fingers, screaming, and drenching the bed in the process. 

his fingers immediately leave your pussy. you gasp, tears still falling. tojis eyes meet yours, “i-i im sorry i tried-” you try to explain before he shoves his fingers into your mouth. 

“suck” is all he says, so you do. 

he removes his fingers, and flips you over onto your back. 

no warning, he shoves his cock into you. you yelp but he reaches towards your face and wipes your tears. 

“you’re a fuckin brat. you know that?” he questions, still pounding into you. 

you don’t respond, you can barely get words out. 

“stop actin out like that.” he grabs your jaw gently, making sure you look him in his eyes, “ya hear me?” 

you shake your head yes, “no, use your words, you’re a big girl, yeah?” 

“i-im sorry” you’re able to mutter out in between your moans. 

“tell me you’re my good girl baby, takin my cock so good,” you don’t know if you didn’t comprehend his words, but you didn’t listen, making him pick up his pace. “hey brat. look at me,” he grabs your jaw again, this time a bit more rough, to make eye contact.

“tell me you’re MY good girl,” 

tears are still falling from your eyes, you’re overstimulated, but god it felt so good. 

crying harder now, in between sobs, you’re able to muster a up a quiet, “i’m your good girl toji,”

he smiles, quickening his pace one last time, his hands intertwined with yours. 

“gonna cum baby?” he wipes more tears from your face

“y-yes daddy” you whimper

“cum on my cock baby, be my good girl,” his hand moves to rub circles into your clit. “come on sweetheart, that's it,” 

you cum hard, screaming, tears still falling. toji isn’t far behind you, he cums a few seconds after you with some deep grunts and whispering “my good girl” really putting emphasis on the ‘my’ part. 

he pulls out of you and lays down beside you. he pulls you into his arms and kisses the top of your head, “gotta stop actin like that in public sweets,” 

you shake your head in agreement.

“im serious love, shits embarrassing,” 

you laugh a little into his chest, he kisses the top of your head again, “don’t know why i can’t bring myself to punish ya more, little brat,” 

still holding you close, rubbing your back, he whispers a quick “i love you,” before you both fall asleep.

toji could never be too rough and mean with you but he could never pinpoint why. 

[kawhh]

this will be a lil long im sorryyyy but i thought u might like some of my really pervy thoughts abt being jack's cute little best friend <3

him buying his 'Angel', as he always called her, a stuffed animal w/ a voice recorder box. he'd hear all the little sounds she makes in her sleep and the moans as she touched her innocent holes before bedtime.

jack coaxing her into their first sleepover. sure they were best friends but she wasn't so sure as to why he couldn't just drop her off at her place. he'd make up a random excuse then, once she fell asleep, he'd touch her cute pussy through her lil pajamas. his Angel would think she had a wet dream and wake up all embarrassed and shy but she'd have no idea that it was no dream at all. it was Jack planting a seed in her mind to view him in that way <3

that same night he'd snap some pictures of his Angel in his bed, her little sleep shorts riding up and showing her butt. the way she slept through it all put crazy thoughts into his head - thoughts about fucking her in her sleep. would she even know?

sorry for bad grammar or typos or anything!!! i'm sick in the head and sleepy and english is not my first language 🌀

Angel is forever my favourite pet name for him and nobody can change my mind. It just fits. It's just right.

Warnings: recording you without permission, touching you in your sleep, grinding against your skin until he cums, hints at kidnapping you to keep you with him, fantasies about fucking you in your sleep

He'd be paying outta the ass for storage space, needing every single little noise recorded from you permanently saved. It makes him feel insane, every single noise from you shooting straight to his cock. Such a mess every single night, headphones in, his face buried in his pillow thinking about your pretty tits, his cock grinding against the bed.

He can't think straight. Hearing you exist is enough to make him leak, but he's fucked when you start exploring your body. His innocent angel, building her self-confidence.

He hears the squelch as you dip your fingers cautiously inside of yourself, the little circles around your clit obvious to his ears. The need to be inside you makes him want to scratch at his skin, has him panting into the pillow, his saliva drenching the fabric.

He can't control it. His mouth filling at the idea of his tongue tracing patterns around your tits, his cock head weeping at the thought. Mouthing around nothing, pretending he's flicking against your clit, consuming you.

You're fucked the minute you're trapped in the same room with him at night, even if you don't understand the danger you've been placed in. You don't see the way his mouth waters, how he shakes with restraint while he waits for you to fall asleep.

You have no way of leaving him. Even if you found where he'd hidden his keys, you have no other way home. You need him. He's unconcerned about the consequences of touching you while you're asleep. He'd just keep you here until you calmed down if you stir.

All the nights alone, cumming against his bed sheets is worth it for how adorable you look when he drags your teddy bear pyjama shorts down your legs. It's hard for him to not cum just from how you look in your underwear. The way he can see every part of you through the material.

Hyper focused on his finger as he drags it softly across your clit, watching your sleeping body jerk towards the contact, the way a wet patch instantly starts forming with his touch. He swears your pussy's trying to suck him in, pleading for him to come in.

It's saturating his finger, the slick forming a bridge to his finger when he pulls away. He's panicked trying to rush to suck his fingers, needing every taste of you he can get until he can fully manipulate you.

He can imagine the look on your face when you wake up. Your underwear sticking to you, the way the fabric would be ruined from how wet he'll make you all through the night. It's already almost transparent and he's barely touched you.

It's impressive how you don't stir in the slightest, with how whoreish your pussy is acting. Your hips on a mission, the little moans and whimpers he drags out of your mouth. The way his circles around your clit quicken, the way your thighs spasm. You don't even slightly stir. Your hands don't even twitch.

He can't resist his desires, his confidence growing when you don't react. Grinding his bare cock against your inner thigh, thrusting up against your skin, occupying the gap between your thigh and cunt.

You're too innocent to know what his cum'll look like mixed with the mess you've already made in the morning. You'll be too flustered, worrying too much about what you did. Not him. You'll be convinced it's your fault and he has no intention of confessing until he's confident that you've fallen for him.

He'd be recording you the minute he got close to cumming. The camera shaky as he tries to capture every second of your face and your pussy, every thrust of his cock. He can't decide what to focus on, what he needs to immortalise.

He's panting as his fantasies overload his brain, driving him further and further to the edge. It's a fucking miracle how you don't wake up. An aphrodisiac injected straight into his veins. He could ruin you. Ruin you for everyone. Mould you to himself. Mould you to his dick. You're so wet in your sleep from his touch. He could have you over night after night.

Sinking into your cunt, feeling you squeeze around him, being ever so gentle with you until he'd lose his mind, his grip would tighten on you before he'd start attacking your pussy, crashing into the deepest depths of you.

His eyes rolling back in his head from the thoughts, his cock throbbing as he releases against you, painting your innocent, sleepy little body with his cum.

[goldfades]

congrats on 6k, love!!

'Thinking back on the good times and going in a dark loop again because maybe nothing will be the same again and all due to a petty mistake of yours' / 'As you stare at the ceiling watching the fan spin, echoing your mind spinning in dark spirals, stuck as if in a loop, you realise there is nothing much you can do' with paige bueckers, please? preferably angsty, with plot (no smut) and have sad/open ended ending

have a lovely week! <3

thank you so much, baby! i hope you enjoy<3

warnings: fuckboy paige!!!! this is lowkey my favorite trope, call me crazy but the angst and toxicity makes me spin (i need therapy desperately). lots of angst (NO HAPPY ENDING!!), undefined relationship, emotional spiral, heartbreak, gaslighting (im a psych major what do we expect), no comfort, internal monologue hell

It started with the little things.

Like how Paige would always dribble the ball twice before every free throw, not one more, not one less. Or how she’d find you in the crowd during warmups even when the arena was loud and stupidly full because she said it calmed her down, like checking in with gravity. She'd smile, real small, just with her eyes, and you’d feel like you were watching the sunrise in real time.

You weren’t dating, technically but you also weren’t not. It was complicated in that very specific, slow-burning, college athlete way. Where the days blurred into practice and travel and recovery and the only constants were the ache in your legs and the way Paige’s knee would bump yours under cafeteria tables, like a little secret. You’d known her since freshman year, back when she still wore that silver chain everywhere and had that stupidly cocky smirk like she knew the future and was already bored by it.

You started actually seeing Paige the summer before junior year, back when things were easier: hazy days that smelled like sunscreen and campus gym floors, all cracked sneakers and sweat-drenched playlists. She was already a name, already moving like she had something to prove like she knew the whole world was watching and couldn’t quite decide whether to love her or wait for her to fall.

You? You were just orbiting her brilliance, trying not to burn.

It started as a summer thing.

You told yourself that a thousand times. Late-night texts turned into late-night drives and somehow you were at a park at 2AM, your legs thrown over hers on a graffitied picnic table, passing a bottle back and forth and talking about everything except what you really wanted to say. She made you laugh in the way only people with walls too high and smiles too sharp can. The kind of laughter that hurts after. You knew, even then, it wasn’t harmless.

But she kissed you one night. That changed things.

It was after an open gym scrimmage. You stayed after to ice your ankle, she stayed after because, well, you never really asked. She sat next to you on the training table and your skin was still hot from the scrimmage and the lights in the facility had already dimmed like the world was giving you permission. You said something stupid, something about how she always acted like she was untouchable, and she leaned in and kissed you mid-sentence.

Soft. Quick. Like a dare.

And from then on, it was something.

Not official, not labeled, God forbid either of you admit that. But she started coming over more. Leaving her slides by your door. Sleeping in your bed and stealing your hoodies and scrolling through your playlists like she had a right to them. You went to her games, even when you told yourself not to. She texted you good luck before every exam and called you “baby” when no one was listening. She'd kiss you slow in the back seat of her car and then pull away like it didn’t mean anything, like it was normal.

And yeah, she had a past. Everyone knew that. Paige didn’t do “simple.” She didn’t belong to anyone, at least not before you. But that summer, she told you you were the only one. She said it on the hood of your car, stargazing in a Wendy’s parking lot of all places. You’d joked about being a cliché and she just stared at you, dead serious and said, “I’m not talking to anyone else, okay? It’s just you.”

You believed her. And maybe that’s the part you can’t forgive yourself for.

Because fall came. And with it, the whispers.

At first it was subtle.

She stopped replying as fast. Said she was “busy” more often. But she still showed up to your apartment late, still fell asleep on your chest like everything was fine. You let the doubts sit quietly in the back of your throat. She was under pressure. She had media to deal with, scouts watching, expectations she never asked for. Of course she was distracted.

But then you saw the messages. You hadn’t meant to. It wasn’t snooping, not really. She’d left her phone unlocked on your counter while she was in the shower. You were getting water. And her screen lit up. A name you didn’t recognize. A heart emoji.

You shouldn’t have looked. But you did.

And what you found was a month’s worth of late-night texts. Pictures. Inside jokes. Too familiar. Too much. You couldn’t breathe.

She lied, of course. Said it was nothing. Said it was old. Said you were overreacting. You wanted to believe her. You tried to believe her. But the pit in your stomach wouldn’t go away. The way she wouldn’t meet your eyes. The way she changed the subject.

And then you saw them together.

In the locker room hallway after a game. You weren’t supposed to be there but you had a credential pass and too much hope. She didn’t see you. She was laughing — that laugh, the one she used when she was trying to charm someone. And the other girl touched her arm like it wasn’t the first time. Paige didn’t move away. Didn’t flinch.

You didn’t say anything that night. You just left.

She called. You ignored it. She texted. You read it and put your phone facedown. For a few days, she blew up your notifications. But she never said the right thing. Never apologized. Not really. Just “you’re being dramatic” and “it’s not like we ever defined it” and “you knew what this was.”

But she promised. And maybe that was your real mistake, thinking a promise from her meant something solid.

Now, it’s been three weeks.

No contact. No explanations. Just silence and old memories echoing through your head. You keep thinking about that night in the Wendy’s parking lot. About the way she looked at you like you were gravity, like maybe she was scared you were the one thing she couldn’t outrun.

You don’t know what hurts more — the betrayal or the way she’s pretending it never mattered.

The campus feels colder now, even though it’s spring. You still expect to see her walking out of practice, earbuds in, hoodie half-zipped. You still hear her voice sometimes in the hallway outside your class. And every time your phone buzzes, there’s a split second where your heart lifts, just in case it’s her.

It never is. And maybe that’s the answer right there.

Maybe it was always going to end like this. Not with a fight, not with a slammed door but with a slow unraveling that leaves you sitting in the middle of a life that still looks the same on the outside. Still your room. Still your clothes. Still your routines. But none of it fits the way it used to.

You don’t know how to explain the loss of something that never had a name.

But it feels like mourning just the same.

She showed up unannounced.

It was raining, the kind of cold spring drizzle that soaks into your sleeves and makes your skin ache. You were on the couch, barely functioning, stale coffee on the table and a blanket tangled around your knees like a half-hearted attempt at comfort. She didn’t knock like someone who was sorry, she knocked like someone who still thought she had the right.

You opened the door because part of you wanted to see if she’d look guilty. She didn’t. Her face was drawn, sure, a little tired around the edges but there was still something smug behind her eyes, something stubborn that made you want to scream.

“You’re really not gonna talk to me?” she said, brushing past you like this was her place. Like she hadn’t cracked your trust clean in half. “You just ghost me now?”

You stared at her. “Are you serious?”

She scoffed. Dropped her duffel on the floor like she planned to stay. “You’re blowing this way out of proportion. That girl, she’s nothing. We were just talking. You know how people talk to me.”

Just talking.

Like the texts. Like the way she laughed with her. Like the hand on her arm. Like the emoji-laced messages that went too far.

Like all of it meant nothing.

“You lied,” you said, your voice shaking, but not with fear, with something sharper. Anger with nowhere to land. “You told me it was just me. You looked me in the face and said that.”

“I didn’t do anything with her,” she said, folding her arms. Defensive, dismissive. “God, you’re being dramatic. You knew what this was.”

That word again. Dramatic. As if your feelings were just noise to tune out.

Something cracked inside you.

“No,” you snapped. “I knew what I thought this was. I thought it was something real. I thought maybe you weren’t just using me to feel better after games or when you didn’t want to be alone.”

She looked like you slapped her. But you didn’t feel bad. Not even a little.

You kept going. “I let you in. I let you stay and the second it got hard, the second you had to be honest, you ran.”

“Jesus, you act like I cheated on you,” she muttered.

“I act like someone who believed you!” you snapped back.

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy, it was hollow. She shifted, tried to fill it, but there was nothing left for her to grab. Not anymore.

You pointed to the door. “Get out.”

She didn’t move. “You’re really gonna do this?”

Your eyes burned, but you held them steady. “You already did.”

She left without another word.

You didn’t cry. Not at first. You just stood in the middle of your apartment, shaking, staring at the dent her bag left in the carpet. The silence after the door shut felt deafening. Her absence screamed louder than her presence ever did.

That was two days ago.

Now, you’re staring at the ceiling again. Watching the fan spin slowly in its quiet rhythm. It creaks every so often, a soft groan like it’s struggling under the weight of doing the same thing over and over and over. You know the feeling.

Your phone is upside down on the nightstand. You turned off notifications hours ago. You can’t bring yourself to turn them back on.

The room is dim, just the dull blue glow of the outside world leaking through the curtains. Your blanket is twisted around your legs again. You haven’t eaten. You haven’t slept.

As you stare at the ceiling watching the fan spin, echoing your mind spinning in dark spirals, stuck as if in a loop, you realize there is nothing much you can do.

The worst part is the doubt.

The tiny, gnawing thought that maybe you did overreact. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal. Maybe everyone talks to people like that. Maybe she didn’t mean to hurt you. Maybe you’re just too sensitive.

And just like that, you’re back there again. Thinking back on the good times and going in a dark loop again because maybe nothing will be the same again and all due to a petty mistake of yours.

You think about her laying next to you, her hair damp after a shower, her voice low and tired when she whispered, “I don’t let people in like this.”

You think about her squeezing your hand under the table when her team lost and everyone was looking to her for answers she didn’t have.

You think about the way she looked at you, sometimes, like you were the one thing she hadn’t yet figured out how to win.

It was real, wasn’t it?

You keep rerunning every second of it. Reframing, rewriting, asking yourself where you went wrong. Was it too much to ask her to be honest? Too much to expect exclusivity from someone who couldn’t even define what you were?

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. She lied. That’s the truth. And it wasn’t petty. It wasn’t some tiny, forgettable mistake. It was a choice. A conscious, repeated choice to hide someone else from you while convincing you you were the only one.

Still, your chest aches like you’re missing a limb, like you’ve been carved out and left empty.

You replay the fight in your head over and over. Her voice, the disbelief in it. The mockery. The way she walked out like it didn’t kill her too.

You wonder if it did kill her. If she’s laying somewhere right now, in her stupid grey hoodie, staring at her own ceiling, wondering what she threw away. Or if she’s already moved on. If she’s with her. If she’s laughing again. Smiling that smile like none of it touched her. Like you didn’t touch her.

The loop keeps spinning. You can’t make it stop.

Maybe you’re the fool. For trusting her. For loving her without a net. For thinking someone like Paige Bueckers, someone so golden, so watched, so relentlessly desired, could ever just be yours.

You close your eyes and all you see is her.

That stupid chain around her neck. The lopsided grin when she beat you at Mario Kart. The way she said your name like it was a secret, like it was sacred. The way she whispered “I’m not good at this, but I’m trying” into your shoulder after her worst game of the season.

You wanted to believe her. You did believe her.

And now?

Now you’re left with silence.

You check your phone. No new texts. No calls.

You want to reach out. You don’t.

You want to scream. You don’t.

You want to stop thinking. You can’t.

The fan keeps spinning. The ceiling stays still. Time drags on without meaning.

You wonder if she’ll ever come back.

You wonder if you’ll let her in again if she does, and that scares you more than anything.

Because maybe you would. Maybe you’d let her sit on your couch again and lie to you again, and kiss you like nothing ever broke. Maybe you’d believe her all over again because the idea of letting go hurts more than staying hurt.

Maybe that’s what love really is sometimes. A quiet ache you learn to live with.

The fan spins. And you stay still. Waiting for a version of the story that doesn’t end like this.

But it never comes.

my 6k celly!

[flshsticks]

Pair: Rafe Cameron x male reader

A/N: hey guys imma back after not posting for like a few months just wanted yall to know im still alive

Warnings: spanking, balls sucking, face down ass up, cream pie, mpreg mentioned. Pole dancing, lap dance.

Summary: you are a local stripper that works at a famous strip club for gay men and women. You are pretty famous there and get along well with your clients. Today you have a new special client who wants a private show from you.

You have no idea why you work at a gay strip club right now. Are you this desperate for some money?? Sure you had good reasons why you are working at a strip club. You got a hot body. You’re flexible, you’re pretty. And none of the good jobs will take you because you have no experience and because, you’d just sleep with the manager to get a few extra bucks..eyes flashing through your head and Looking over the amount of men who are watching you dance on a pole right now, just trying to dance your night away in hopes for a good tip from some old and desperate men. You have been working non stop seducing men and sometimes women just for a few couple hundreds. Men who would stuff money in your shorts just for a lap dance so they could get off on your body. Or some who would be way too aggressive with you having to get security on them to throw them out. After a hard night off work you start walking off stage kissing goodbye to the assholes with wife’s and kids. Walking away and Opening a door to the backrooms where you and your work buddies would usually get changed, sitting down by your mirror with the amount of makeup scattered across the desk. You wipe off your lipstick and eye shadow. Massaging your stomach in hopes to get rid of that sore feeling. Before you could even grab your stuff or get changed your manager came in bashing through the door calling out your name, “yes? What do you want.” You said furrowing your eyes, “a..a client wants you right now!” Raising a brow you got up “what do they want?.” You asked but he was already out and gone before answering you. Sighing to yourself you waved your work buddies goodbye while following your manager in a room. Your manager escorted you to the client and hurried out before you could get some questions in. Looking up at the client who wanted you. You began to sweat a bit..he was hot and he was tall aswell, he had a buzz cut that weirdly looked good on him. You tried to calm yourself down..”hi! You are my client for tonight?” He nodded and shook your hand smiling at you.

“Yea..I was staring at you the whole time while you were on that stage. You looked like you knew what you were doing so..I just wanted to see how good you really are..” he got closer and put his large hand on your shoulder. “What’s your name?..” he said “reader..what about you?” “Mines rafe..” you start checking him out, your eyes going up and down. “So you want a private show hm?..” saying to him while biting your lip, he smirked at you and nodded, you agreed to give him his own private show so you drag him to a dark room with a pole in the middle, you got up and started to do some seductive dancing for him. Pushing your ass out towards him, you could already tell he was getting harder just from looking at you.

You got off the stage and walked towards him. Sitting on his lap, he puts his hands on your hips as you start grinding on his covered crotch, as you dance on his lap he starts finding his way down to your shorts. Pushing his hands under them and playing with your ass, he starts to slowly pull down your shorts. He looks up at you for permission which kinda surprises you since none of your clients ever do that. You nod giving him permission to go further. He smiles taking off your shorts and then your underwear, you grab his cheek and kiss him softly while taking his shirt off. He starts kissing down your neck to your chest, rafe takes off his pants and underwear. You get on your knees and started kissing his cock. He groans softly, kissing down his shaft to his balls, you start licking his balls softly polishing them with your spit and tongue while giving them a few loving kisses and sucks.

You then start to lube up his cock. Deep throating it for a few seconds before going back up and repeating that for a few minutes, while you fingered your self from behind. Opening yourself nice and wide for his cock to slide in. After you finish lubing Rafes cock you get on his lap and gently hover over his big pink tip. Watching pre cum ooze out his sensitive slit twitching and begging for some boy pussy to destroy. You start to slowly sit down on Rafes dick very slowly. Your hole clenching down on his shaft tight enough. Rafe thought his dick might snap off, slowly taking every inch of his cock until his whole entire shaft was inside you. Moaning loudly your eyes rolled at the back of your head, tongue sticking out kissing rafe aggressively. You start to go up and down on him very slowly, Rafe being impatient he began to thrust a little faster. You start bouncing in his cock even faster which gave Rafe a sign to thrust harder.

He grip onto your hips tightly like his life depended on it. The grip would have surely caused bruises if he grips onto you any harder. His balls slapping onto your ass. After a while of fucking your ass he pushes you on your knees. Pushing your face down into the cushions while facing your ass up. He spanks your asscheeks just to watch it jiggle. He loved the recoil of your ass everytime he would spank you harsher. As he fucks the life out of you, you start biting onto a pillow. Trying to not make any louder noises that would possibly disturb the other people from outside. He uses your hips as a handle to fuck you even harder. He takes his cock out to take a breather, then he lines his tip to your cute pink hole and slams into you like a fucking bull. “Fuck baby!..I’m gonna get you fucking pregnant if I keep this up any longer!. He said his head throwing back in pleasure. “Oh please Rafe! Get me pregnant..” you whimpered. Pushing yourself back onto Rafe as he attempts to fuck a baby into you. “Gnna-..impregnate you!” Gritting his teeth he tries his best to hold on a little longer.

His thrusting was getting harder and harder by the second. Moaning and whimpering bouncing off the walls while others who walk by the room could hear the hot sex you and Rafe were having. That didnt stop him though. He still kept going despite the noise you and him were making. He hasn’t gotten laid in months and wanted to empty his balls in. on a pretty slutty stripper, he probably drank to much and is now trying to impregnate you. Yes he knows it isn’t possible but believe him he will put a baby into you.

Enough about that now. Rafe was getting sloppy now with his thrusts and was starting to get tired out. His hips start to stutter as he finally shoots his loud out inside your tight boy pussy. After he is finish giving you the hugest cream pie of your life he suddenly collapses ontop of you. This shit head is already fast asleep snoring away with his cock still hard and stiff and still stuffed inside your hole.

After hours of sleeping you start to wave him goodbye as he leaves the strip club. You happily close the door and get ready to get changed. You got changed and got into your car, grinning on both side of your ears as you open your wallet to see the massive tip he gave you on the way out. And his number he snuck inside your purse. Maybe you should visit him sometimes..

A/N: Made this at 4am with some lasagna and juice so pls enjoy this because I might disappear for another few months..💔💔

[kentoxo]

PLEASEEE JM BEGGING PLEASEEE. MAKE THE SMUTTIEST SMUT OF MEGUMI X F READER. Like I need it to be disgusting and vile. (Im so horny rn I’m sorry.) make them go round after round🤤 tit grabbing and everything.

I UNDERSTAND THE ASSIGNMENT

pairing: reader(f) x bf!megumi (aged up)

synopsis: he doesn't just want you-- he needs you. after you had spent days back home, you were not anticipating the beast that brewed in your apartment.

warnings: tit play, fingering, overstimulation, rounds of sex

a/n: YALL I GOT A COLD! this weather change ruined me but it will not stop me from my destiny (of writing smut). sorry this took me so long to get to xo

It wasn't like it was that long. What was it, 4 days? Family called you home, and you couldn't refuse after hearing the longing in their voices. Megumi made futile attempts to keep you home, but you had to go see your family. You remember tying up his now long hair, his face grumpy and he wouldn't make eye contact.

You finally returned, and the house was particularly quiet. Getting yourself situated by the door, you proceed into your apartment slowly, the pit pats of your slippers being the only sound. "Megumi?" You call out quietly, hoping your voice didn't intrude in the still silence.

Finding your way to your shared bedroom, you noticed the door was slightly ajar. You push the door open quietly, but the creaking made you known. Sat on his side of the bed with a small book in hand, Megumi looks up and his eyes widen.

You barely get to say a word, as he wastes not a moment of his time. Strong arms shelter you, his chiseled chin sat calmly on the top of your head. You wrap your own arms around him, closing your eyes to melt in his embrace. He smells of vanilla and cardamom. "Your hair looks messy," you murmur against his chest, smiling warmly to yourself.

"Hadn't fixed it since you left," Megumi responds curtly, his fingertips denting lightly into your back. "Didn't care 'nough to." He tightens his hold around you, his warmth taking you over. "Why didn't you call me? I would have picked you up."

"It wasn't necessary," you hum, "I took a cab." As you melted more in his hold, you felt his hands snake down to your bum. His face lowers into the crook of your neck, lightly chapped lips leaving kisses there. You weave your fingers into his hair, tilting your head to give him better access. "Babe..."

"m'sorry, I should ask first," Megumi whispers in a raspy voice. He brings your free hand over to his bulge, guiding you to rub the limb up and down. "I've missed you s'much... may I?"

You giggle, lifting Megumi's head from your neck. Obsidian eyes bore into your own, his cheeks flushed pink. It took a long time for Megumi to openly express himself to you. And yet still, he was unable to take what he wanted without the need to ask. "You need not ask," you whisper, "I'm yours, Megumi."

His eyes narrow down, trying to find true confirmation in your gaze. But your eyes don't relent, and flames begin to dance in his eyes. You loved how respectful he is, but you two have been dating for too long for him to still ask permission to love on you. Especially when he was starving for you and your body.

Without wasting another moment, he hastily tosses you onto the bed. Your heart races from his sudden movements as desperate fingers begin to discard your clothing one by one. In seconds, you were just in your undergarments. He simply looks down, his lips practically salivating at the very sight of you. His hands cling to the center of your bra, dragging them opposite directions until it ripped. Your breaths poured out, a throaty moan leaving your mouth. "was that necessar--"

Before you could dare finish, Megumi's hungry lips entrap yours. Between kisses, he begins to strip himself, revealing to you the toned body, defined abs, and intense scarring ornate all over his body. You felt dirty to admit it, but seeing his scars turned you on. You'd never let that slip out, not even to your own soul.

Pulling away, Megumi stands upright once more and looks down at your body once more. Hungry eyes stared at your breasts as they bounced with every motion he did to take off your panties. "baby," Megumi begins quietly, "please let me know if i'm too rough. but, i'm going to fuck you so hard that you'll never leave without me again."

With that, he sits at the headboard of the bed, grabs a firm hold of your hips and lifts you towards him. A pool had long developed between your legs, and he knew it. "ass up for me." You lay your torso, but perk your ass up in front of him per his demand. Once you did, three fingers jam inside your leaking flower.

"h-hey!" You gasped, unprepared for his immediately quick pace. Megumi's bony fingers thrust into your pussy, your precum coating his hand in minutes. He curled his hands to drag his finger tips against your g-spot, earning him scratchy moans from you. "babe-- megumi-- it's t-too much, t-too soon to--"

You didn't want to come yet-- it would be too embarassing, and Megumi knew that. But his fingers didn't relent, and you could feel your climax coming. "i need you to finish for me right now, beautiful."

"b-but...!" You say painfully. You wanted to come with his dick inside you-- not like this in the half hour you've been home. "megumi, please--!"

"now," he demanded, with his free hand giving your ass cheek a burning spank. In moments, bursts of juice leave your cunt, the warm water dragging down to your clit, threatening to drip. Your chest heaved desperately against the best, sheets curled forcibly between your fingers.

You were prepared to be annoyed, when Megumi suddenly takes your hips and sits you down onto his cock. You writhe, your back arching against his torso. You let out strings of curses, only to be quieted by Megumi's fingers filling your mouth. The taste of your cum met your tongue as Megumi's rough fingers played with it. Your ass dragged against his pelvis, and his long, thick limb filled you up kindly.

"t-too much...!" You mewl, your toes curling from being suddenly filled. Your tight walls made Megumi dizzy, as he had been dreaming of fucking you the minute you left for your trip. He gently thrusts into you, making you hop lightly up and down his cock. As he did, his large hands scoop up your breasts. They were still warm, and slightly sweaty since you recently 'removed' your bra.

"mm, so perfect," Megumi hums against the back of your neck. He teases you, peppering hot kisses on your neck. He aggressively massages your breasts, overstimulating you in the process. Despite your pleas, you didn't want to stop him (not like you could anyways). His fingers clenched your breasts desperately, moving them every which way while your buds were being clamped and pulled at by the interdigits.

You felt light headed, unable to stop the tight hold on Megumi's thighs as he gently fucked you. His hands were the opposite, pulling and tugging your mounds, rubbing teasingly at the crevice's under your breasts. Teeth finally met your neck, with a series of sucking and nibbling to ensue.

"m'gonna cum-- again..!" You spew out, your body unable to itself. You squirmed around his cock just enough to add to the friction and force you to finish around his ever-horny cock. "megumi..." you moan slowly, but his silence made you realize that it was not over. "h-hey--!"

He pushes you against the best, positioning you as you once were when he was fingering you to your first orgasm. Firm hands take hold of your hips as he suddenly slams his cock right back inside of you. It slid it quickly, with a heavy coating of two of your orgasms all over his aching member. You claw at the end of the bed while your boyfriend fucked your lights out.

"come again, love," Megumi demands firmly. His fingertips dig into your sides, his pace a little too quickly for you to be able to recover at all. "get tight 'round me." Your pussy was burning, the overstimulation clouding your vision. But Megumi was fucking that 3rd orgasm out of you, whether you liked it or not. With a final and deep thrust, you felt your pussy clench tightly around him, with more cum seeping out of your used cunt.

But he wasn't ready to let you go just yet. He stands the both of you up, bringing you over to the large mirror you thrifted years ago. He knew your legs were weak already, but he hasn't come yet. And this night would never end until he does. You eye yourself in the mirror, your neck and shoulders ornate with hickies, and your nipples bruised a light purple. There were red markings all over your breasts after Megumi's attack. Your legs held a shine, with your cum slowly making its way down to your calves.

Without a word, Megumi put his hand on your back and silently makes you bend over. His hands find their way to your ass, and he spreads it so he can fill you up once again. In a second, his phallus fills you up once again, and you could feel the burning sensation tug at the bottom of your stomach. "megumi..." his name left your mouth in a whimper, a horny cry.

Getting back into his rhythm, Megumi's hands find their way to your wrists and pulls them back. He forces you to arch your back once more, your eyes clouded from your state of painful ecstasy. His strokes are sloppy but still consistent, considering his pent up stress and now exhaustive state.

"m'so close... so fuckin close," Megumi growls between gritted teeth. "your pussy takes me so well..." You watch your breasts bounce with each thrust. Your body was searing, waiting eagerly for his orgasm. "im gonna fill you up, mm, okay beautiful?"

You nod tiredly, incoherent sounds being the only thing you could muster. He thrusts so deeply that his tip threatens to touch your womb. But finally, his pelvis presses against your ass, and he shoots his load between your searing walls. You finish simultaneously, your body finally giving out. But Megumi pulls out and catches you, guiding you over to the bathroom for a nice, warm shower.

As he sits you down on the toilet to prepare the bath, he looks back at you and chuckles. You were leaned against the wall beside the toilet, eyes closed with sweat collecting all over. "Next time, pack me in your luggage," Megumi advises in a monotone voice.

You suck your teeth, earning another laugh from him.