#in a sexy way y’know

[suashii]

yandere!yuta who screenshots every picture you post on instagram and puts them into a little album on his phone to refer to every time he jerks off. you’re just so pretty and thinking about you isn’t enough — he’s got to see you if he wants to cum. if he turns into such a mess looking at you on a screen, he can’t help but wonder how good it would feel to have his hands all over you, to be inside you

[saturnsorbits]

Monoma doesn’t know who he is…

While all the kids where busy getting their quirks and discovering things about themselves, Monoma found out that he’d only ever be as good as what he could steal… Learned that his quirk, quite literally, was to become something else, someone else: someone better.

It’s hard, learning that you’re not really you, but always part something more. He never really understood it, but life was always there to teach him not to question it.

He was taught this on the playground when he could only overcome a bully by stealing his levitation quirk. Had it beaten into him when new friends would ask to see his quirk and he just… Couldn’t, because he hadn’t copied anything for a while. At first he made excuses and tried to explain, but no-one is interested in being stolen from in theory or in practice.

So, screw him if he learned to deal with the fact that on his own he is nothing more than his ability to steal. Fuck him, for becoming harsh, for beginning to transform into the thing everyone else had already decided he would be…

[loveisadog]

we talk too less about the scene

[sillysowa]

As a big boob girlie you know I had to take y’all up on this offer!

TITTY LOVER HOBIE HCS!

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

Hobie cannot contain himself around your boobs…like he’s literally in love with them.

Always copping little squeezes when you’re naked around him, coming up behind you and cupping them with his large hands.

You honestly don’t even have to be nude, he will still come up behind you, kiss you on your neck and stay there while reaching his hands up under your shirt just to feel them.

He is all about the no bra’s movement—like constantly telling you how you don’t need one. If you wear them because they make you more comfortable than he can respect it but if you wear them and you don’t like wearing them, Hobie’s gonna be your #1 hype-man about going braless,

“Y’know what babe, I say free the nip. Tits ain’t never hurt anyone.” He quips in the doorway as you get ready, contemplating if your outfit would be better without a bra.

lf they get sore at any point in your cycle, Hobie is more than happy to help ease the pain with a little massage!

Thoroughly enjoys sleeping with his head under your shirt, trapped in between your boobs. He says,

‘It’s a crucial part of a good nights rest!’

If you have small boobs, Hobie loves massaging them. He adores how small they look in his hands and how sexy you look when you’re shirtless under him.

‘You have the prettiest tits i’ve ever seen love, just can’t get enough.’ He’d whisper while kissing all over your chest.

If you have big boobs, he loves seeing the way they bounce when you fuck. His eyes are just entirely transfixed on the way they move,

‘Fuck yeah, love. Love the way your tits move f’me baby.’ He’d groan while cupping your boobs and lightly slapping one.

Hobie never forgets your boobs during foreplay. He always takes his sweet time kissing and sucking them, creating patterns of hickeys in his wake. You will never have sex without Hobie showing love to your boobs, which he says are,

‘the best rack i’ve ever laid my eyes on.’

—

@ohxx @luxxtuxx @fatenpara

[cupcakeinat0r]

Thinkin abt Dad bod! Miguel again…

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Relationship weight gain is kinda inevitable when both parties are in absolute love with each other, and Miguel, despite being a total specimen, is no exception to this.

By now, you and Miguel have been dating for quite a bit, and you noticed Miguel getting a lil chunky. Not something you protested. At all. In fact, you were living for it. Yea, Miguel was gorgeous with those rock hard abs and that slutty waist of his that you were beginning to envy, but once his dad bod came in… dayum.

Miguel, however, did feel slightly embarrassed about it all, even though you reminded him everyday that he’s literally the most gorgeous man. Ever. It wasn’t about him, though. He was more concerned about you; that you wouldn’t see him the same way anymore, but you didn’t mind reassuring him a million times that he is all you want and ever need. Plus, it’s a dad bod, literally the best bod, like, c’mon now.

You’d watch him walk around the house with sweatpants on and no shirt, perky pecs (you could’ve sworn he had more titty than you, Jesus Christ), chest hair, pumped arms, fluffy abdomen and a tiny peek of a happy trail that could make your womanhood quiver. All that on full display for you and only you to ogle at. God, he was gorgeous. You, lying in bed, would bite your lip at the piece of work in front of you. Miguel was hunched over on his computer, which he dwarfed with his hands and build, reviewing some lab reports. Your eyes traced along his muscles, some of his stretch marks, and the one or two rolls he had on his side. How can a man look so delicious even while working?

“Whatcha looking at, mama?” He doesn’t look up.

“Oh, nothing… just the most beautiful human being I’ve ever seen.”

He finally looks up from the computer and smiles at you.

“That’s all you, mamita.”

You smile back. You still get butterflies with this man. You reach your arms out.

“C’mere, come to bed. I need my teddy bear.”

He chuckles. “ya mismo, beba, I only have one more left. I’ll be right there.”

You drop your hands in defeat. He says only one more, but you knew it would take him at least like 30 minutes to look over those things. He likes to be real thorough with them. You loved that your man had brains, but sometimes you wish he would just relax once in a while.

An idea flickered in your mind.

“Baby…”

“Yea, mama?” He mumbles, eyes concentrated on his screen.

“…how many kids would you want?”

He immediately perks up. Oh, now you’ve got his undivided attention.

“Kids?” He says, almost a little too excited, “What made you think about that?”

“Ohhh, I dunno… it’s just that you’ve got this dad look goin’ and… it’s been making think, y’know?”

“‘Dad look’?” He says with a humored smile.

“Well yea… I really like it. You’re lookin husky and thick, it’s so… sexy.”

The computer has been officially closed. Your plan is working.

“Oh yea?” His voice becomes lower, more sensual, as he climbs onto bed, his gaze becoming hungry. Miguel towers over you until he settles down on the comforter, nestled up right next to you, his thick thigh draped over both of yours. He rests his burly arm over your stomach, pulling you even closer to his warm body. Now that he lays next to you on the bed, you feel way smaller against him. You loved that.

“Mhm… it’s hard to not picture you with our future kids when you’re walking around here lookin’ like that. I’d make you such a cute daddy.” You coo, your hands brushing against his chest, playing with the hair there, occasionally caressing down to his soft mid-section. “Aw, baby… and I’d make you such a beautiful mommy,” Miguel groans into your neck, placing a kiss there, his hand goes up under his t shirt you’re wearing, caressing circles on your stomach as he imagines a bump there, “fuck, just thinking about you being pregnant makes me hot.“ His hand moves up to grab one of your breasts, giving it a light squeeze, his index finger giving your bud some attention, “and these filled with milk? coño, no puedo esperar.” He moans, his voice strained.

“So how many you want, daddy? Name a number and I’ll give em’ to you.”

Miguel just looks at you dumbfounded. He doesn’t know whether to get emotional or just pin you to the bed and fill you up with his kid to get a head start on this family. He thinks he’ll choose the latter.

“Mamita, I want however many you can give me.” he grabs you by the chin and smashes his lips against yours in a tongue-eating kiss. “Mmgonna look so pretty all swollen for me.” He then placed himself in between your legs, completely caging you in his broad shoulders and arms, his belly brushing up against your stomach. It’s not the only thing you feel, as you also feel his thick hard on when his hips start grinding against your weeping cunt.

“Mi princesita wants to make me a daddy, huh?” He says in a mocking voice. You nod, making a timid noise, aroused by his dominance. You look down to see a wet spot on his sweatpants, his precum seeping through from your little daddy talk no doubt. His mouth sucks and nips at the delicate skin on your neck, your shirt being hastily raised, your now wet panties shortly following the shirt. You’re in for it now. A victorious smirk growing on your face knowing that that last report would be saved for another day.

“Baby, What about your report?”

“It can wait.”

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Spoiler alert: He rails you like a dog in heat, cream pies you multiple times, and makes sure none of it goes to waste!!! <3333 u got what u wanted!!! Yay!!!

He is very gorjus to me, ur honor!!! <33333

Want more DadBod!Miguel ? Here’s my master list, bae!!!

[alphabetboyluvr]

NIGHT CRAWLERS - JJK

title credit: night crawlers - kids in glass houses

pairing: drugrunner!jungkook x sugarbaby!reader, college au

synopsis:

jungkook’s always been good at running. track, field, red lights, shit outta luck. drugs, now, too. but he doesn’t expect to run into you. in your shared lecture halls, sure. maybe. but not down the back alleys of daerim at ass o’clock in the morning. there are only three types of women he ever sees in daerim: hookers, sugar-babies and addicts. you aren't any of those; you're a trust-fund baby who can get percocet on private repeat prescription, if you really want it. he's sure of it. so it then further begs the question: why the fuck are you here?

warnings: jungkook and o/c are polar opposites, but y’know what they say, opposites attract and all that jazz, jk is a college student but also a drug runner, mentions of gang dynamics and hierarchy, oc is a sugar baby, mentions of consensual but uncomfortable sexual encounters as a result of this (proceed with caution), drugs, violence, blood, motorbikes, hurt/comfort, all the good stuff, smut – fingering, tittie sucking (wow pretend to be shocked!), unprotected sex, jk has the hugest cawk in the whole entire world, jk is a lil aggressive but in a sexy way, he accidentally says something mean during sex (not sexy mean, actually mean (he makes up for it tho!)), jk on top, oc on top, mentions of his pubes (yummy), tummy pressing, kissy kissy kissy koo, creampie, post-coitus nap, they’re literally in love idk what to tell you, ambiguous ending!!

wordcount: 26K

note from holly: originally published to wattpad in 2021 and also briefly uploaded to tumblr, too. It’s just hit 100k reads over on wattpad so I thought I’d put it here too!! There are two additional chapters on wattpad, connecting the story another fic of mine and also showing us jk + oc four years on from the events of NC!! If you’re interested, you can find it here (x).

i write in british english!! both in spelling and dialect!!

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

IT'S BEEN SAID that with great notoriety, comes great responsibility to uphold the expectations of those who presume the worst about you.

Okay, so that's a lie. No one's ever said that - but Jeon Jungkook has never been one for sticking to traditions, and so he likes to live his life as if that's his motto.

That, and 'rather be dead than cool.'

Which is ironic, because it's only the heteropatriarchal bores - the ones from upper-class families, who want a white picket fence and 2.4 kids - that actually think he's lame.

And he doesn't particularly give a shit about their opinions.

Everyone else thinks he's actually pretty fuckin' cool.

Black nails, black cargo pants, black hair that waves loosely over his sharp features. An air of command as he walks, a swagger in his step that lingers in stranger's heads like the silage of his aftershave.

Yeah, Jungkook is cool, and he fucking knows it.

A rucksack is perpetually slung over his shoulder, the top concaved slightly to indicate there's very little in there, not much more than a tatty notepad and a few loose pens - or so you assume.

You've never actually spoken to him. Why would you?

Daddy's little princess, glossy lips, manicured nails. The kind of girl who gives him a second look, but only to sneer. He doesn't think of you often, but when he does, it's never nice.

Jungkook doesn't have time for you, and you don't have time for him. Your paths rarely cross.

At least they barely crossed. Past tense. 

Now that you're taking a few of the same classes as him, he sees you a lot more than he likes. Hair always up in that stupid fucking ponytail that he can't see past, perpetually on your phone. Attention seeking little bitch.

He'd ranted a little to Jimin about it, told him that you really must have been a dumb bitch to swap from an economics major to a film studies major with only a single semester left.

Jimin hadn't said much in return. Unlike Jungkook and his insatiable hate-boner for you, Jimin really doesn't give a shit about you. Barely knows your name, let alone the fact that you studied economics before switching over. Was kind of curious as to how Jungkook knew that. Not enough to bother with asking, though.

Jungkook thinks it's normal to scope out the competition. A little Facebook look-up, Naver search, Instagram scroll. Surely it's rational to do that? Check out their LinkedIn, cross-reference their Twitter history to see what they've said about the course.

It absolutely isn't normal, but then again, nor is Jungkook.

He's exactly as he appears to be; the rogue look isn't a front.

But beneath the exterior, there are a few more traditions he's subverting. 

He's the first in his family to attend college, and he needs to ace this class to keep his scholarship.

It's all just projection, the way he despises you.

You've got everything he wants. A well-to-do family, money, prosperity, financial security. He's never known that. And while he shits on you for having parents that have provided for you, all he wants in life is to be able to do the same for his own children one day.

"I've matched you all with students of a similar grade level, so no one is at an unfair advantage," your professor calls out, tearing Jungkook from his thoughts. "Not a single one of you will experience the city in the same way. From shortcuts to your favourite coffee spots, your lives here will have been different to those of your peers."

Jungkook smirks, leaning back on his chair. He knows this city better than most; its dark corners, where the monsters lurk... how to hide and where to run.

Again, the rogue look isn't a front.

But he also knows how to work a camera better than anyone in that room, how to time his shots, how to frame them, too. Top of the class, though modestly quiet about it (he's got a reputation to uphold, after all), he's curious to see who would be considered an even match for him.

"That being said, your experiences are also shared with those around you. For this assignment, with your partner, I want you to create a unique piece of film that captures what the city means to you. Think outside the box. Create something that excites, that invokes. You've got eight weeks. The partner list is on the noticeboard at the back of the hall. Dismissed."

Footsteps echo around the lecture hall as everyone trundles out of the room. You wait back, having already seen the list before you entered the class.

Instead, you pull out a pen - one of the ones that Jungkook hates, with a ridiculous fluffy pink pom-pom on top - and jot down your number. You aren't aware of his insatiable hatred, and either way, you don't really care.

He ignores you as you approach his desk, eyes only drifting upwards when you slide the torn-out piece of paper towards him.

"Mhmm?"

He's rude, you notice. Brows raised, expression flat, he's fed up with you before you've even said a word. Kinda hot, admittedly, but rude.

"We're partners," you say with an ambivalent shrug. Jungkook's jaw seems to tense, head tilting as he breathes out a short smirk.

Partners?

"You haven't even gone out to check the board."

"So what?" You scoff a little. He doesn't like your tone. The feeling is mutual. "I just made it up?"

It's his turn to shrug, now. "Dunno. You tell me."

His hair waves around his features, and you wonder how long it takes him to make it look so natural. The girls around campus swoon over his hair, like he's some kind of God. Other boys try to emulate it, but they can never quite pull it off like he does.

Another thing that all the girls giggle about are his doe-like eyes, but they're hard, now. Narrow, almost. Less of a doe, more like a dragon. Maybe if you get his nostrils flaring, he'll breathe fire, too.

Yeah, he's hot, you want to laugh to yourself, but not that hot.

"I checked before I came in. Didn't take a genius to work out what it was for."

He takes a moment before he nods. "Right. Well, you should probably know that I work better alone. Just let me handle the assignment, a'right? You can put your name on it, whatever, I don't care. Just let me handle it."

A control freak, you note. Nice.

You didn't transfer majors in your last semester, and face all the hardships that came with such a decision, just to sit back and let someone else do the hard work for you.

"With all due respect, it's a joint assignment. I'm not putting my name on work I didn't actually do."

A stickler for the rules, he assesses. Fucking fastastic.

"Look," he sighs, adjusting his body so that he's practically leaning halfway over his desk. As much as it sounds like he doesn't want to be a part of this conversation, his body language is oddly engaged. "I need to ace this class. You've been here, what? All of three minutes? Film what you wanna film, send it over to me for editing."

"I'm very much capable of editing-"

"And if you could do me a favour and keep the nail salon footage to a minimum, that would be much appreciated. Everyone's seen that shit. It's not interesting. Gangnam underground shopping centre B-roll, too."

It's a thinly veiled insult. Assumptions he's making about you based on the clothes you wear and the company you keep. He doesn't explicitly say it, but you know what he means: you're not interesting.

Jungkook doesn't mean to be an asshole. Not really. He's just got a lot riding on this course, and doesn't want to risk it all for the sake of keeping the peace with someone he doesn't particularly like in the first place.

"Like our Professor said, we all experience the city differently," you plaster a smile on your face, the plastic kind that Jungkook hates. "You might just be surprised at what I can offer."

Private tennis clubs and shopping sprees worth more than a second-hand car? Yeah, no. He'll pass, thanks.

"Whatever," he reclines back, giving your number the once over before tearing a strip of empty paper from the bottom of the note. His hand moves quickly, scrawling his own number onto it. He doesn't hand it to you, but instead tosses it down onto the desk as he stands. "As I said, I work best alone. Don't bombard me with messages about the project. I'll have it under control."

He vacates his desk with an air of arrogance that you don't think he's yet earnt. Sure, he's hot, and from what you've seen of his work, he's pretty talented, too. But no one likes working with assholes, and the whole point of being at college was to make yourself a desirable candidate for jobs.

Or at least that's what your parents had always said.

When they were still talking to you, that was.

Before they decided that you're a disgrace to the family name, all for the simple desire of not wanting to spend your life slaving over finances and spreadsheets.

Like inheritance and a slightly crooked nose (straightened out for your high school graduation gift), econ majors ran in your family - and just like you'd cut off your parents' dream of watching you become an economist, they'd cut you off. Full stop.

So as far as you were concerned, Jungkook could take his arrogant whining about your financial situation, and the hobbies you might have enjoyed as a result of your upbringing, and shove it up his ass.

You really wish he would. Shove it up his ass, that is. Might relieve him of the pent up tension he seems to have going on.

Swiping up his number, you tuck it into your back pocket, ruing the day you'll actually have to text it.

It comes as a surprise to both of you when, a week later, Jungkook is the first to type a message into your fledgeling chat window.

I'm filming tonight. Could use a Grip, if you're free. Dongdaemun Design Plaza, 7pm.

You wonder how much pride he must have had to swallow in order to send you that. 

On occasion, during the past week, you've caught him looking at you in that slightly menacing way he always likes to do.

Part of you thinks he's unaware that he's doing it, just zoning out in your direction, but then you see him shake sense into himself - quite literally, a bunny with an itch behind its ear kind of shake - before he averts his gaze. 

He does a similar shake of his head when your response pings through to his phone.

Can't do Tuesdays or Thursdays. Sorry. Maybe another time.

He doesn't reply.

REJECTION HAS NEVER been something Jungkook has taken well. It's why he works so hard, fearful of being told that he isn't good enough.

He'd only sent that text because he genuinely did need a Grip.

Well, no. 

That's not quite right. 

He needed a muse; a subject of his shots, a pair of eyes to catch the confetti of night market lights in. Someone's hand to film as they exchanged money with a hotteok stand server, another human to get lost and found all within the same shot.

But that felt awkward to ask, especially after his insistence that he could do it all alone, so he'd settled for pretending he'd needed a grip. Just someone to hold his gear while he took tricky shots. That's all.

Given your rejection, he was pleased with his choice.

"Familiar," Yoongi nods over lunch the next day, following Jungkook's gaze. "Yeah, I've definitely seen her around. Dunno where, though."

"Campus, maybe?" Jimin rolls his eyes, confused at the fixation Jungkook seems to have on you.

Yoongi shakes his head. "Nah... She looks like-" he glances over to Jungkook conscious of Jimin's listening ears.

"Like?"

"Just like a girl I see occasionally," Yoongi pauses again, making sure Jungkook's focus on him. "At work."

Jimin laughs. "So yeah, on campus. You work in the campus cafe, Yoongs."

It was the only legitimate place that would hire him. Dumb choices as a kid - and a questionable nickname that's now etched into his knuckles - prevents most places from seeing him as a viable candidate.

Yoongi laughs along with Jimin, but Jungkook knows Yoongi isn't talking about the once a week shift that he picked up as a form of extra credit.

Jungkook knows, because on paper, he doesn't have a job either.

On paper, he manages to survive on his scholarship bursary, The Holangi Honour, awarded to gifted students from underprivileged backgrounds.

On paper, Jungkook is the Korean dream of hard work and perseverance.

His reality isn't so pristine, but it never has been. He comes from a long line of high school dropouts with dubious morals and criminally reckless career choices. It was naive to have thought attending university would help him escape it.

Scholarship funds dried up pretty quickly, rent and t-money cards eating away at it, until Jungkook had no choice but to revisit old haunts.

Yoongi had told Jungkook that he didn't need to worry, that he could help him out if he needed money, but Jungkook was no leech, much to his older friend's despair. He didn't want the kid getting into the same trouble that he was in.

One meeting with Yoongi's old school friend, Hoseok and Jungkook was in the rat race again, delivering people's come ups for when the sun went down. 

He'd always been good at running. Track, field, red lights, out of luck. Drugs, now, too.

Jungkook had managed a good year and a half on the straight and narrow. For that, he was proud. And sad.

But he's also determined. 

Top grades mean top jobs in the future, which means never having to traipse around Daerim at ass o'clock in the morning.

He hates this part of town, but it's where business is currently booming.

Hobi texts him a drop-off list each morning, ensuring his nights are almost exclusively spent in Daerim.

This is how Jungkook sees the city: grotty back allies, groups of men huddled around a pack of cards and dice on the floor, cigarettes hanging out of their mouths, phlegm spat onto the foor. He sees the women of the night in the early hours of the morning, and the sadness in the smiles they give to the men who approach them on street corners.

There's only one club of any worthwhile note in the area, and between jobs, Jungkook likes to sit up on the fire exit that rests above the back entrance.

It's where Hobi works, assisting some other reprobate that Jungkook doesn't care to learn the name of. Nasty piece of work, or so he's heard. The son of some powerful motherfucker that Jungkook knows to stay away from. He isn't interested in joining any stupid fucking gang. He just wants to get his money, get through university, and forget about this place.

That's the big dream at least.

His current wish, which feels much more immediate, is to outrun the fucker who has been on his tail for the past half a mile. Jungkook's pretty fast on his feet, and he gives a mean left-hook, but the guy chasing him has a pocket knife and that doesn't really feel like a fair fight.

It's his fault, and he knows it.

As per usual, Hobi had texted Jungkook his drop off list. Six of them, all in Daerim. He had no business being down by Jungang Market, especially not on a Thursday evening.

He couldn't even explain why he was; he was just curious about what life could be like if he ended up flunking out of college. He wanted to see where the monsters liked to lurk, or if they hid in the shadows like boogeymen.

But reprobate recognises reprobate, and drug runner recognises drug runner.

So now Jungkook really is running, out of territory that he shouldn't have infringed upon.

He's not out of breath yet, but he is conscious that his heartbeat feels like it's in his throat. A few streets over, his motorbike is parked behind an industrial-sized trash can, and he prays that no thieving cunt has tried to make a get away with it. They wouldn't have managed it - it's his prized possession and he never leaves it unprotected.

When he spots it a few minutes later, he laughs, relieved. "You beauty," he praises the engine, pulling his key from the pocket of his leather jacket.

The fucker chasing him is nowhere to be seen, probably nursing a stitch or panting down a different back alley. Jungkook doesn't want to risk it, eyes darting all over the place as he unbuckles the chain on his bike wheel with muscle memory alone. The metal clangs through the iron bars that protect the banjihas down the alley from break-ins. He always feels a little bit of guilt for chaining his bike up to the only source of natural light for the half-basement dwellings, but it's quarter past two in the morning. Not exactly sunshine hours.

And yet his eye is drawn to the light pouring down from a street lamp at the entrance of the narrow lane.

Usually, you ignore the noises you hear on your walk home - but, as strange as it sounded for Jungkook's voice to issue a compliment, you're almost positive that it is his voice.

Dark hair, dark eyes, he doesn't recognise you at first. You're wearing black, and your hair is down, but your lips still have that stupid fucking pink lipstick on, the one he'd seen you blot away onto a tissue in the middle of a lecture a few days prior.

His eyes linger, the lights flickering in his glossy dark irises as if there are fireworks inside that pretty little skull of his. For a moment, he thinks you must have been filming for the assignment. 

The lack of a camera proves otherwise.

"Get on the bike," he yells over to you, tugging on the sleeve of his leather jacket, pulling it down. Cognitive thoughts aren't something Jungkook's really working with, the adrenaline speaking for him.

That, and the fact that he's acutely aware of what men like the motherfucker who was chasing him down did to girls like you. Might not like you, but he doesn't want that on his conscience.

Plus, he needs your signature on the coursework documents, too. You're no use to him if you end up chopped into little squares and scattered in the river.

"Damnit, just get on the fucking bike!" He continues, noticing that you haven't moved a muscle. His jacket is off now, held out for you to take. He's impatient, eyes darting down the alleyway, as if he's scared of the rain that's pouring down around you. "Look, I ain't asking again. Just get on the bike, or I'll fuckin' leave you here. Some nasty fuckers about tonight."

And while you may not trust Jungkook, you don't trust the alleyways of downtown Seoul even more. You've seen the horrors. You know the dangers. Your mother didn’t raise a fool.

She also didn't raise you to bow to the commands of assholes like him either.

You ignore his jacket, hiking up your skirt, revealing far more of your thigh than most get to see. He doesn't make a comment, but you know he sees a flash of your underwear as you do so. 

For once, sex seems to be the last thing on his mind.

Rain pools in the gutter by the drainpipes, trickling down, collecting in the ducts. A puddle sits on top, a tell-tale sign that the street is going to flood soon, but Jungkook also doesn't give a shit about that. Not right now - but he does make a mental note to check that the drains are unblocked by his place when he gets home.

He's a fellow basement dweller, dependent on the cheap rent. A banjiha boy with big dreams of getting out.

You hoist your leg over, ignoring the droplets of water on the leather seat, as your hand wraps around his waist. The front of his white shirt is damp from the rain, elevating the scent of his laundry detergent. You don't hate it. Quite like it, actually.

"Wet conditions," he rasps, voice still hurrying out of his mouth. "So take the jacket. If I slide, the tarmac will rip your skin off." He turns, wrapping the jacket around your shoulders. "I'm not your father. Dress yourself."

"I'd be a bit concerned if my father was trying to dress me at the ripe old age of 21," you bite back, as if the fabric of his jacket doesn't feel like it's melting into your skin on account of how bloody warm he is. You push your arms through the material, shaking it ever so slightly as Jungkook begins to rev the engine.

"Thanks would have sufficed," he bites back a scoff, not wanting to waste time arguing. "Try not to fall off, a'right?" He gruffs. 

Some would have considered his concern endearing. You know it's just because he doesn't want to spend his evening scraping your flesh off the sidewalk. Not because he gives a single flying fuck about you. 

"Hold on."

He doesn't wait for longer than a second, just enough time for you to wrap your arms around his waist, before he pulls down on the accelerator. His exhaust chortles, spitting out petrol as he goes, water from the ground splashing up against your bare leg. You can feel goosebumps forming, and yet your arms are completely warm.

Of course they are. Jungkook's chest is a fucking furnace, heart pumping blood through him faster than the speed of light. Forward, forward, forward, he pushes his bike on, away from the downtown area he found you in, and away from the demons who were hunting him.

The vibration of the bike is a welcome disguise. Beneath the motor's veil, you're shaking. Partly terrified, partly the victim of an adrenaline surge. 

Hardly a surprise. You've never been on a bike like his before.

There weren't many men on motorbikes around your neighbourhood as a child, only Old Jinyeon, who had a Harley that he only rode on the weekends, or when his wife was away at that spa retreat that everyone knew was really code for 'rehab'. Prescription medication was her poison, mostly. There were whispers that alcohol was a bit of a problem, too. 

It was a shame, really. She was a nice lady - she'd just married into a lifestyle that didn't suit hers.

Old Jinyeon's father had also been called Old Jinyeon, and his father before that, regardless of their age. The name wasn't the only thing inherited, but a fortune too. Old by name, old by money. 

He'd met his wife at a gentleman's bar; gambled all of his chips away just so that he could keep talking to her as she worked.

But the good is rarely easy, and the easy never good. Women like her weren't supposed to be with men like him.

And girls like you aren't supposed to be on the back of boys like Jungkook's motorcycle.

But here you are, hurtling through the city at a speed you're pretty sure isn't legal, clinging onto him for dear life. Your eyes are shut, streaming with tears from the wind, mascara blotting onto his back.

"Left turn," he calls over his shoulder to brace you. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, stomach losing all stability as he rounds the corner. You've never suffered from travel sickness before, but now seems like the prime time to develop it.

The lights of the city all bleed into one kaleidoscope of colour. Your sense of direction has been rendered useless, only opening your eyes once every few seconds to make sure that this is real. And every single time, you're surprised to find that it is.

You expect it to be like a dream where you fall, only to wake up at the last second - but you've never had one of those dreams. You've only seen them in movies. You're not even sure they actually exist in real life. Perhaps this would be the closest you'd get to one. A main character moment - though this felt more like a crime-thriller than the rom-com you would have liked.

The feeling of damp wind in your hair like this is new, and exciting, but all you can think about is the fact that you're pretty sure one of your fake lashes just flew off. You pull your hand back to stroke at your lashes, just to check, but it's caught by Jungkook grabbing for it.

"I told you to hold on," he shouts, though he doesn't need to. The vibrations of his vibrato can be felt through his back. "So hold the fuck on, a'right?! I don't say shit like that for fun."

Jesus, you think. Who pissed in his cornflakes?

But he's right. You do need to hold on. He proves it by not warning you the next time he turns, the bike leaning so close to the tarmac that you're convinced you can feel rubber burn. He eases as soon as he hears you shriek, the grip you have on his chest so hard he swears you might puncture his skin. Reaching back, he cups your knee with his palm, checking for any sign of blood or broken skin. Negative. And yet his hand lingers before he retracts it. He's just making sure. Double-checking. Over-indulging.

"The fuck was that, asshole?" You all but scream.

"I told you to hold on, didn't I?!"

He did. And if you weren't doing so now, tighter than before, you'd have hit him so hard in the balls that he'd have no choice but to adopt in later life.

"You could have fucking killed me!"

"Oh, boo-hoo," he sneers, catching his tongue before he says something he'll grow to regret.

Jungkook would never have killed you. He knows these streets like the back of his hand, and how to ride his bike almost as well as he knows how to get himself off. It's second nature. Innate. A gift.

But before you can argue back, he draws to a stop, his exhaust rattling, the motor purring. As much as he'd like to tell you to get the fuck off his bike, he can feel you trembling now. A part of him - a very slim, deeply hidden part - feels guilty for being so hard on you.

He's grown up with bikes. Trusts them. Lives, breathes gasoline.

He doesn't imagine you know how to change a bicycle tyre, let alone anything with a motor.

The hand that had checked you for damage earlier returns, his fingertips warm against your goosebumps skin. He strokes lightly, once, twice, quickly. "You're fine," he tells you, and you want to believe him.

"Never said I wasn't."

He snorts a small laugh, then taps your knee, encouraging you off of the bike. His hand remains close as you do so, conscious of the fact that you'll most likely be unsteady on your feet - feet that he now notices are clad in the strappiest pair of heels he's ever seen in his life. Perhaps he doesn't need to worry about your stability at all. If you can walk in those, then you can surely handle a pair of wobbly knees.

Without much thought, you take his offer of assistance, his jacket dwarfing you as you stand, hand clasped in his.

"Where are we?"

The alleyway you're down is unlike the previous one he stole* you from (*rescued). It's cobbled and damp, yes, but the doors down here lead to dwellings, garages too. Not an industrial-sized trash cart in sight. And it doesn't smell like fermented piss either, which is a surprise. You thought that was just the standard for side-streets around these parts.

"Doesn't matter," Jungkook shrugs ambivalently as he unhooks his leg over the bike.

He wants to ask why you're wearing such stupid shoes.

That's a lie.

He doesn't think they're stupid.

He actually quite likes them. You've nice ankles. They look good.

What he really wants to ask is why you're wearing them on a school night. The pair of you might be in college, but it wasn't student night at the clubs, and he hadn't picked you up from a particularly nice part of town.

There are only three types of women he ever sees in Daerim: hookers, sugar-babies and addicts. You aren't any of those; you're a trust-fund baby who can get Percocet on private repeat prescription, if you really want it. He's sure of it.

So it then further begs the question: why the fuck were you there?

Sliding off his jacket, you offer him a small smile. It's the least you can do, you suppose.

It's funny, because you only ever see three kinds of men in Daerim: drunks, gamblers, and dealers. Jungkook isn't any of those. You might not know that much about him, but you know he's a scholarship kid, and that he won the winter film festival on campus for his documentary on back-alley gambling.

"We're not too far from campus," he eventually states. Few blocks over. He assumes you live on campus. Got the money for it.

"Cool," you nod, sure that you'll be able to find your bearings from here. You don't live on campus. Not anymore. No money for it. "Thanks for the lift, I guess."

The atmosphere is awkward, dewy mist in the air dampening both of you. He nods back, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

He knows he should invite you in, offer you somewhere to wait while you call a cab or something, but he's embarrassed. Of himself. His living situation. The fact that he doubts you've ever even been in a basement that isn't a wine cellar.

"Look I-"

"So-"

Jungkooks nose scrunches, cringing at the awkwardness. You glance down, self-conscious.

"What were you doing over in Daerim?" he asks rather out of the blue. He doesn't even process that he's asked until it's too late.

You clear your throat a little. "Just had some errands to run."

"At two in the morning?"

You nod.

"Right," he doesn't believe you, but can't think of a better explanation.

"Well, what were you doing there?" You ask, albeit a little more confrontational than intended. You were on the defensive.

His mouth is flat as he speaks, a narrowness to his eyes that makes your lips purse to suppress a smirk. "Running errands."

So you're both dirty little liars. Who'd've thought?

"Fairplay," you say with a smile. "Look, I still appreciate the ride. I'd have been fine," you add."But yeah, appreciate it nonetheless."

"Was nothing. I was headed in this direction anyway. If you take a left at the end of the street and follow the road down, there's usually a bunch of taxis waiting for the university cleaners to finish their night shifts. I'm sure you'll be able to get one."

"Take a left," you hum. "Cool. Will do." Bracing yourself to leave, Jungkook wonders if he should offer you a lift to your place too. "See you tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, tomorrow. Class? That thing we attend during daylight hours?"

"Oh right. Yeah. See you tomorrow."

Bizarrely enough, if this is how awkward Jungkook is when he's being nice, you think you prefer him being an asshole. At least he has a little spark in him then.

Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook feels overloaded with fucking sparks, like someone's holding an axe grinder against the metal of his earrings, deafening him. The reality of his evening is kicking in, and the knowledge that he came a few metres from having a hole in his abdomen becomes overwhelming. He doesn't let it show, though.

"Thanks, again."

You make a promise to punch yourself in the face if you say thank you one more fucking time.

"It's fine, again," he smiles, with a small laugh, before focusing those eyes of his on the floor.

And so you leave, walking straight past the taxi rank and taking a shortcut to your apartment, which is a lot closer than you had realised.

Seven steps below street level, you jog down to your front door, petting the neighbourhood calico stray on your way down. The door closes with a slam, but you don't give a shit because the people in the apartment above never seem to give a shit when they stumble home at four in the morning.

Before he sleeps that evening, Jungkook wonders how much of the skyline you get to indulge in. Your dad works in the accounting side of one of the largest law firms in the city, he knows that much from his research. Knows that your immediate family has more money than probably all of his relatives combined. Alive and dead.

He just isn't aware that you're not seeing a single dime of it. Not since you dropped out of the economics and business side of school to focus on the creative arts. All that money your parents had 'wasted' on your education? Well, they weren't wasting any more.

Because you're a commodity, to be bought and sold, apparently. Not their daughter, who they should have just wanted to be happy.

So now you spend your Tuesday and Thursday evenings down in Daerim.

Because you are a commodity; and if anyone's gonna be selling you, then it may as well be your fucking self. 

A stack of yellow 50,000 won bills sit on your desk. Twelve of them. 600,000 won. Not bad for a week's work. 6 hours.

Might have been cut off from your Dad's money, but your replacement 'daddy' wasn't a bad substitute.

The bluntness of such a statement usually makes you laugh, but not today.

If Jungkook knows the Daerim area like you think he does, then he'll be able to work it out soon enough. A bitterness fills your chest, like coffee dripping through a filter, forgotten about and left to go cold. You've been so good at playing pretend.

Secrets are so much easier to keep when they're not shared.

Perhaps that should be your project piece.

Secrets of Seoul: The Seedy Underbelly of The City.

After all, that was your unique view of the city; the side you saw that you were pretty sure no-one else did.

At least, no one else except Jungkook. Go figure.

"SEVEN WEEKS LEFT!" Your professor reminds the class as they dismiss you from your lecture. There's a little chatter, partners sharing ideas and friends discussing what to have for lunch - and then there's you and Jungkook.

He waits by the end of his row for you to walk to meet him, an inconspicuous look on his face.

The girl who he's watching neatly put a fluffy pen into her handbag looks a lot like you, but a hell of a lot different from the girl he gave a lift to last night.

Who the fuck are you?

Jungkook has always liked a little mystery. Seen the romanticism in the unknown. Still doesn't like you - but you've gotten him curious.

"You haven't sent anything over yet," he notes, keeping a slight distance from you as you walk together up the stairs.

"You told me not to bombard you," you remind him.

"Sending me video files once in a blue moon is fine."

"Once in a blue moon. Gotcha."

It's Friday, so he knows it's not one of your pre-determined days of having prior engagements.

It's only now that he realises that must have been why you were in Daerim last night; that your 'errands' are actually scheduled into your routine. It doesn't bode well for his 'not a hooker, an addict or a sugar-baby' theory.

"I was thinking of heading over to Dongdaemun this evening, seeing as you weren't free on Tuesday," he starts a little awkwardly, but the more he speaks, the easier it becomes. Being nice, that is. "I could still use a hand, if you're free? If you're serious about helping out, I mean. It would be good to make a start on things."

Relief washes over you. You've been fearing a conversation about the night before, but Jungkook doesn't want to talk about it just as much as you don't.

You meet him at seven o'clock that evening at Dongdaemun Design Plaza. You've always loved the green roof, how organic the landscaping looks above such a futuristic building. He listens as you explain this, eyes wide and in awe of the sloping pathways and curved walls, showing him your favourite of all the trees in the park.

Jungkook looks at you for a second, observes your hands, how they delicately move a few leaves to frame the shot you're taking. You've a Midas touch, and Jungkook wonders if your fingers would turn him to gold, too.

It's a silly, fleeting thought, but it doesn't stop him from focusing the camera on you as you roam Dongdaemun night market later that evening, lights cascading over you like glitter.

He thinks you're pretty in this light. Pretty when it's just him and you. No distractions.

Except there's hustle and bustle everywhere, a vendor chasing a thief, groups of high schoolers laughing on their way home from Hagwons, food sizzling, vapours making his stomach rumble. Perhaps you're the distraction, instead.

The pair of you spend the next week traipsing the city together.

Somehow, you only ever come together when the sun goes down, but it's fitting. You're a pair of nightcrawlers, swarming through the city when traffic sounds like a melody and destinations are unknown.

He learns that you drink your coffee black, no sugar, lukewarm. You learn that he'd rather rub coffee granules into his eyes than drink it.

And despite your preference for no sugar, he always tosses a little white sachet towards you whenever you order a coffee. He finds it funny. Insists that you have to be a sugar baby. It's the only way he can explain that night he saw you Daerim.

He's just joking. And you pretend not to, but you find it hysterical.

Mainly because he doesn't realise how bang on the money he is.

But also because you can't help but laugh whenever he does.

There's a comfort that grows between the pair of you, a familiarity. A casual ease that doesn't feel dangerous, not even when he's pulsing through the city on his bike, you holding onto him, his leather jacket wrapped around your body. You begin to like the way that the wind feels in your hair, and you stop wearing fake lashes. Jungkook doesn't tell you, but he likes you better with a few freckles showing, dewy highlighter and a little mascara being the only makeup you wear for the midnight city roams.

It's only because you can't be wasting resources reserved for clients on a boy from your film studies class. Times are tough, money is tight. No point in pouring funds into a boy you won't make revenue from. It's a bad business decision.

A few months ago, you did your makeup multiple times a day just for fun. Now you have to ration it. Life... life isn't what it used to be.

But Jungkook is ignorant to that, and you quite like it. Escaping from your reality. Becoming the version of yourself that he thinks you are.

He isn't sure which version of you he wants to spend time with the most; the too-good for him daddy's girl who dresses in Celine and comes with a pout, the enigma who lurks in the shadows that he thought he had a monopoly over, or the master director who seems to rival his talents for capturing moments of life in 4K.

As he watches your brows furrow while you turn your phone upside down, trying to understand a map, he decides that he doesn't care which version he gets.

Jungkook wants what he wants.

There's an impulsion to his desires and subsequent actions that he takes to obtain them. He's driven by gratification, and little else.

On the days he wants to feel wanted, he'll go to a bar. He never whispers false promises or pretends like he's after anything more than what can be achieved in a single night. The girls he goes for tend to see that as a challenge. They think they can convince him otherwise. It's not his fault when they can't. It's not his fault that they end up falling for him regardless. It's not his fault that he never has any intention of loving them back.

He tells them this. They ignore him. It isn't his fault.

On the days he wants to feel accomplished, he'll stay on campus until the cleaners usher him out of the room so that they can prepare it for the next day. Their insistence is lost on him - no amount of Cif can polish the dirt out of the walls. Once a shithole, always a shithole. He'll offer his apologies for getting in their way, and they'll coo over him like he's their own grandson. It's all very sweet.

They tell him not to overwork himself. He lies and says he won't.

On the days he wants to eat more than a single cup of ramyeon - which is most days, given his absolutely mammoth appetite - he'll send Hobi a text and request more drop-offs for that evening. Yoongi will give Jungkook a subtle look whenever a message from Hobi pings through, knowing it mustn't be good news. It never is.

Jungkook tells Yoongi to mind his business - but with a grin and a glint in his eye that eases his friends worry ever so slightly.

Disapproval never stops Jungkook from doing what he wants, regardless.

Not from his friends, from the cleaning ajummas, and especially not from you.

So he ignores the look in your eye, as he encourages you to follow him through a gap in the chainlink fence, which surrounds a disused water tower on the outskirts of the city.

Jungkook wants what he wants.

And right now, he wants to get a shot of the midnight city from his favourite vantage point.

"You said you've taken thousands of shots here," You hiss as a twig snaps beneath your foot. He smirks as you utter out a curse. "Surely you can just reuse one of those?!"

He guides you round, ignoring the ground level rubble, until you get to a ladder that definitely isn't safe for use. It's rusting by the bolts, and has a few vines trailing up it, undisturbed for months. Remnants of paint are flaking from the structure, collecting like ashes on the ground below.

"I have," he shrugs, unhooking your camera bag from your shoulder, popping it into his rucksack for safe keeping. He crouches, putting his palms upwards to offer you a leg up. "You haven't, though. You see the city differently to me, remember?"

He's taunting you. Reusing the phrase from your Professor that you had quoted to him on the first day of the project. Asshole.

Asshole with a smirk that suggests he's only teasing. Suggests that he's fond. Words that suggest he remembers the things you say to him. Memorises them, even.

Curious.

"Can't we just pretend like we see it the same way?"

"No can do, sugar."

"Oh my god, stop calling me that."

You're thankful for the midnight sky and the way it disguises your blush.

As if throwing packets of the white stuff at your face in coffee shops isn't enough, he's taken to calling you 'sugar', too.

"Give me a reason not to," he says as he tilts his head, encouraging you to accept his leg up. You check your feet for mud, then put your trust in his grip.

"I've already told you, I was just running errands," you defend yourself for the thousandth time. A short yelp escapes your lips as he boosts you up, your hands gripping onto the flaking bars beside the ladder.

He doesn't believe you for a second. He also doesn't believe that you're actually a sugar baby. It's just fun to fuck with you a little.

Once you're up, he waits for you to safely sit on the ledge, and then he makes the climb too. He's up a lot quicker than you, coming to sit beside you with his legs dangling over the ledge of the railings.

"Tell me it isn't worth it," Jungkook says a little airily, enamoured with the view.

And he's right. It is worth it.

A maze of city lights twinkle like the Carina nebula, interstellar, yet entirely of this earth. Bright whites, reds and greens speckle the horizon, and for a moment, it's easy to forget that you're looking at Seoul. There's a magic that can only be appreciated from a distance, far away from the scent of alleyways and the void nothingness of grey brick buildings. Skyscrapers tower above the skyline, but still look small from where you and Jungkook sit, silently, in awe.

"Look over there," he points across the vast expanse. You follow his trajectory, but you have no idea if you're picking out the right spot. "Daerim. Can always tell. Know the street layout too well."

"You're gonna get me thinking you're a sugar baby," you nudge your shoulder into his, and he laughs.

Reaching into his rucksack, you expect him to pull out your camera. Instead, his hand comes back into vision holding a pair of chopsticks and a tub of instant ramyeon. Uncooked.

He pulls the seal back, stabs at it with the chopsticks and offers you the small chunk he's broken off.

"It's good," he promises.

You know what dried ramyeon tastes like. You know it's good. You just can't understand what the fuck is wrong with him.

"Are you broken?"

He grins as he tosses the chunk of dried noodles into his own mouth. "Absolutely - but ramyeon is ramyeon."

You tell him he's weird, and he continues to smile, not resisting as you take the tub from him and break off a chunk with your fingers.

It's one of his favourite snacks. He's impatient and impulsive at the best of times. Waiting for it to cook? Too much effort. Cooking it at the convenience store and carrying it up the tower with him? Disaster waiting to happen. It's just easier this way.

And so the pair of you sit, not really saying much, watching the city roll by. Every now and again, he offers you a chunk from his chopsticks.

By the end of the night, neither of you have gotten any footage of the city.

And neither of you really care.

AS YOU SPRINT home after yet another spree around the city with Jungkook, running late for your Thursday evening appointment, you curse your inability to send his calls to voicemail. 

You should really be working more. You need to be working more - but for the past four weeks now, you've answered every single one of his calls.

His messages? Yeah, you ignore those. He's learnt this, though. He messages you regardless, because... well, because he wants to, quite frankly. He doesn't give a shit if you respond.

He knows you read them.

He knows you saw that picture he sent of a flyer detailing a live art event last week. He knows that you noticed the veins on his arms.

You don't know that he'd spent a couple of minutes tensing his arm before he took the picture. Deliberately.

It's been said before that Jungkook wants what he wants - and what he wants more than anything, frustratingly, is your attention.

The way you study his arms the next time you see him proves that he's gotten it.

If anything, the delayed gratification makes it so much more worthwhile. 

You have been thinking about him.

So as far as Jungkook is concerned, you can ignore his messages all you like, because you still always answer his calls with an airy 'hi,' as if talking to him takes your breath away.

The only time you don't answer is between the hours of eleven and two on Tuesday and Thursday evenings.

Chances are, if he just so happens to be in the area - which he always is - he'll catch you down on the wrong side of the tracks at just gone quarter past two.

He still calls you 'sugar', teasing you for the reputation of the area. You just roll your eyes and grin, then banter with him about how even if you were a sugar baby, he wouldn't be able to afford your prices.

He argues that he'd pay in ways that didn't include monetary value.

You don't ask him to expand.

But as you wipe your watery lash line in the bathroom of a shitty rental apartment in Daerim, you think about what he could have meant. If he actually meant it. 

The TV blares from the living room, faint vapours of a mango e-cigarette wafting through the gap beneath the door. You've always thought mango smells like cat piss. Rancid.

Whatever Jungkook could have meant didn't matter. His flirty tone and angel eyes didn't pay the bills. The cash tossed down on the bathroom counter did - or more specifically, the widower, who occasionally wanted company from a pretty young girl, did.

A hundred thousand won for an hour, three hundred thousand total. It takes you just a week, two appointments, to make up the month's rent - but you still need to eat, to study, survive. 

And so you return, every week.

It's not his actual apartment. He lives over in Gangnam, close to his kids' schools. More money than sense. He doesn't tell you much about his personal life. You think a lot of his small claims are lies, anyway - but you smile and flutter your lashes as if he's reciting bible verses.

Some nights are better than others. Sometimes, he genuinely makes you laugh. Occasionally, he'll ask you what you want to do. Takes you to museums. Fancy dinners. Theatre shows.

But he has a nasty streak, and in those three hours, you're his. He owns you. There's no sex, that's not the arrangement, but his hands have been known to roam, and the disparity of equality within your working relationship becomes apparent. You brush it off, tell yourself that it's natural for a man engaging with you in a romantic capacity to forget the rules. You tell yourself that it's okay.

The churning in your stomach and dis-ease of such a situation tells you that no, it isn't okay. But if you laugh at his painfully unfunny jokes loud enough, you're able to drown out the noise in your head.

The worst nights are the ones where he pays you extra.

There's no discussion anymore. The stack of notes is just thicker than usual upon arrival, and you know that at some point during the night, you'll have to sit in silence and watch as he sinks his hand down into his pants.

It's easy to forget the way it looks. Your eyes glaze over, and the discomfort, the slight disgust, indicated in your features gets him hard. He thinks it's taboo. Thinks you enjoy it too. That your panties look a lot like his hand by the time he's finished.

The snort-like grunts are what you find hard to forget. The wail of a moan that comes when he does. You hear that shit in your nightmares.

But it earns you an extra two hundred thousand, so you endure it because you don't have much of an option at this point.

Come 2 AM, cash stuffed down your bra, you don't have to think about it anymore. The fresh air of the city, a little smoggy and polluted, hits you like a freight train. You thank it.

When Jungkook enters Daerim that evening, he expects to find you. He normally does. You never look particularly happy - in fact, he often tells you that you've got a face like a slapped arse - but it's more so today.

He whistles from across the street, clad in black, a thick hoodie keeping him warm beneath his leather jacket. "Oi, Sugar," he calls, that boyish grin on his lips. Teeth so pretty you wonder how much novocaine it would take for you to be numb to the way it makes your stomach flip.

Eyes dancing up and down your body, he likes what you're wearing. Black tights, black dress that cuts off at your mid-thigh, a sweetheart neckline and chiffon sleeves that puff around your slender arms. He decides your boots are far more sensible than the heels you're usually in.

"That'll be twenty thousand, Jeon," you call back, arms folded over your chest as you change direction to walk towards him.

"Per hour?"

"Per every time you call me that stupid fucking name."

"What would you rather?" he goads, leaning against a window ledge on the back of a restaurant building. There's nothing down the alleyway, just trashbags and the distinct scent of fermenting piss. "Shugs? SB? Baby?"

You smirk, walking to the wall opposite him, mirroring his position, hands resting beside you on the ledge. There's a safe distance between the pair of you. A look, but don't touch type of vibe - but this time, unlike earlier on in your evening, you actually enjoy it.

"You really gotta make your mind up," your eyes roll, lips rising into a crescent. "One minute I'm a trust-fund princess with Daddy's money on tap, the next I'm a sugar baby with a different type of Daddy altogether."

Jungkook shrugs. "Just don't see why you waste your evenings roaming fucking Daerim of all places."

"Best dandanmian in the city," you say, referencing the abundance of traditional Chinese restaurants in the area. "Can't get the authentic stuff in Itaewon."

"Can't get hookers in Itaewon like you can in Daerim, either," he taunts you.

He doesn't really think you're a hooker, but he likes the way you grin whenever your eyes roll.

"Ah, so that's why you're here."

He holds his hands up to playfully admit defeat. "Guilty."

You laugh, knowing that there's no way in hell Jungkook will ever have to resort to hookers. Not when he looks like that. All doe-eyed and charming, floppy hair just begging for a pair of hands to run through it.

The pair of you let the moment simmer, droplets of water dripping from the drainpipe and into the sewer. He's lit by the neon light of a restaurant sign, red and yellow painting him like an impressionist masterpiece.

"You look cold," he acknowledges, but you shake your head and insist you're fine. Your hair is a little damp from the small shower you'd been caught in a little while previously, mascara smudged around your eyes. You looked like that before the rain, mind you. He shakes his jacket off and tosses it across to you, snorting quietly as it hits your face and crumples over your feet. "C'mon. I'm now about to ride home. I'll give you a lift."

He asks for your address, and you tell him that you'll just get a taxi from his place like you normally do. There's no need for him to go out of his way.

"The princess doesn't want the pauper to see her castle, huh?" he teases, always talking in bloody riddles.

"See!" you protest. "Always changing your mind! A minute ago I was a sugar baby, and now I'm a rich bitch again. Which is it, Jeon?"

"I dunno," he reaches behind himself, adjusting your legs and pulling you a little closer into his back, tapping your side to make sure you've got the jacket on. "You tell me, sugar."

He doesn't see you roll your eyes, but he knows you do it. You always do. Even when your pretty pink nails are clutching the fabric of his shirt, you pretend like you don't enjoy his company.

You've gotten good at playing pretend. 

Jungkook only jokes about you being a sugar baby.

He doesn't fathom that you actually are one.

His engine begins to purr, and Jungkook kicks up the stand, setting off into the night.

The way you hold onto his waist is different tonight.

Physically, it's the same.

But it feels different.

And it is, because you're not just holding onto him; you're hugging him. Comfort in an old routine. You adjust your arms, keeping tight against his back, and he pretends like he doesn't notice the shift in dynamic.

He pretends as if he didn't notice your sad eyes earlier, too, and as if he can't feel the stutter in your chest as if you're trying not to cry.

Jungkook isn't a knight on a white horse, and nor does he want to be - but he doesn't mind being your rogue bandit who steals you away from the things that make you sad.

He's just an arc in your fairytale, not your happy ending.

But you've always been a sucker for a bit of a plot twist.

When you arrive at his, he wants to ask you to stay. He doesn't want an orange taxi cab to appear at the end of his lane and act like your actual knight in shining armour. He doesn't want you to ride into the sunrise with anyone but him.

And as luck would have it, your phone shares his desires.

Well, no. It doesn't. It's a mobile phone. It doesn't have cognitive thoughts - but it is out of charge.

"Different charging ports," he grits his teeth as he holds up his Samsung after you ask if he's got an iPhone charger. "I'm pretty sure I have an apple cable lying about though. You can come in for a second, get a little bit of charge just so that you're not stranded in a taxi without a way to contact anyone."

You nod appreciatively. "You sure?"

He doesn't answer, instead holding his door open and ushering you inside.

Jungkook cares in strange ways. He's practical, forward-thinking, trying to find solutions to problems that you'd normally shrug your shoulders at.

He's never told anyone that he loves them before, but he did once swap the hinges on his ex-girlfriend's bathroom door to the other side, so that it would stop hitting the sink basin every time she opened it. He shows his affections in meaningful ways, often without being asked or expecting anything in return.

Neither of you realise it yet, but this is one of those occasions.

It's not until you're perched on the worktop bench in his kitchen that he realises he let you in without hesitation. No longer embarrassed of where he lived, he kind of likes having you here.

You look out of place, silver pendant round your neck, expensive, and hair professionally coloured, nails done, toes, too. Not that he can see them. He just remembers a conversation you had once over chicken and a beer about the fact your toes always matched your nails.

Small details like that are what he thinks about when he's alone; like the way you blink a little faster when you're confused, and how you sprinkle Cheeto dust back into the bag off of your fingers instead of licking them like he does. He thinks about the way you laugh in his company, and how he's never heard you laugh like that with anyone else. And he tries to stop, but dammit, he thinks about how sexed up you look on those Daerim nights.

You're dressing like that for someone else, he knows that much.

But he gets to indulge in it too, when your body is pressed against his back as he takes you home.

He's stopped asking what you do in Daerim. He doesn't want to know.

For a few minutes a night, when he's alone, he likes to pretend what it would be like if he was the one you were dressed like that for. Only ever a minute or so. Gets him too hot. Finishes him off too quickly. Absolute sin.

"Kook?"

He doesn't even realise he's halted his movements until your voice breaks him from his thoughts. His jeans tonight are tight, and do a pretty good job of hiding the swelling between his legs. Fucking uncomfortable, though.

"Sorry," he doesn't turn to face you. "Was just trying to remember where I last had the cable."

"I was just saying that it's fine. It's really not that far. Don't wanna be a bother."

"Why'd you say shit like that?" he turns to face you, face twisted a little. He's annoyed.

"Like what?"

"Call yourself a bother. You do it a lot."

"I don't."

"You do," he insists, and you can't work out why he's so annoyed by it. You want to apologise all over again. "You just-" he takes a moment to find the right words. "I dunno who's conditioned you into thinking everything you do is bothersome, but it really isn't. If I didn't wanna help, then I wouldn't. It's not a bother. You're not a bother."

And you don't know why, but for some reason, you choke up a little. It's not like he said anything particularly groundbreaking, it's just for the last few months, your entire existence has felt like a drain on those around you.

The money you can live without, but you miss family dinners on Sundays, and face timing your little sister, more than you can even begin to explain.

And while no, you didn't want your parents' money, you didn't want to keep seeing a perverted old man just to be able to afford to eat, either. The flat rate was 500,000 now. Every single time. Without fail. You hadn't put the price up. He was just always paying extra. Always touching his prick. Always jerking himself off over your repulsion.

Earlier that evening, he had queried how much it would cost him to finish on your chest. You told him a million. He asked if you accepted bank transfers. You told him no. He offered 1.2 mil.

Part of you considered it. It's a lot of money. Not something to be taken lightly.

But when you ran into Jungkook, just like you knew you would, you were adamant you had made the right choice. He had scanned your body, getting a read on your mood, assessing what you needed, what you wanted, and then had offered up his jacket. All doe-eyed and sparkling. You finally got what all the girls swooned over, 'cause you were doing it too.

"Hey," he says softly, noticing the way your eyes are reddening. "Hey, hey, no. Don't cry, sugar."

You laugh through the first couple of tears. Stupid fucking nickname.

"I meant it," you sniff, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hands. He's standing closer now, hesitant to touch, hands hovering around you. "20 thousand won, Jeon. Pay up."

His fingers tenderly wrap around your wrists, keeping them from rubbing at your face again. He's smiling, eyes ever encompassing, cheeks so appled that you bet you could get drunk off the cider he'd produce.

"Can we do it on an I.O.U. basis?" he speaks quietly, playfully. "I get paid on Monday."

It's a lie. He gets his commission cut straight from his sales figures. There's 2 million won in his rucksack. He only gets ten percent. 200K. His job's not nearly half as lucrative as yours, but it's still nothing to be laughed at. He's making bank.

"Nuh-uh," you sniff again, letting out a little laugh. He laughs too. "Told you that you couldn't afford me."

And then it's silent. You can hear your heartbeat. He moves a little closer.

"Told you I'd just pay in other ways."

His voice is hoarse, as if he's scared. 

As if he fears the consequences of his claim.

Your eyes drop to his lips. They're trembling slightly. Preparing.

The grip he has on your wrists loosens. He's giving you freedom. He's giving you the chance to back out, to run away.

But you don't.

"Pay up, then," you all-but whisper, lips closing on his.

Jungkook doesn't stall, no, but it takes him a second to respond. To realise.

And once he does, his brows furrow into the kiss, demanding that you know just how much he wants this. Wants you. Has done for weeks, now.

He pulls your body into his, needing you close. Your body curves, his arm hooked behind your back to keep you balanced.

A surge of intensity washes over you like crimson paint. It'll stain you, and everyone will know: That's her. That's the girl who let Jeon Jungkook kiss her like he actually meant it.

He kisses, and he kisses, and he kisses, and he doesn't stop, as if he knows his first with you will also be his last - and when he finally does stop, forehead on yours, the pair of you are breathing so heavily into each other's mouths that it's as if you're sharing oxygen. Keeping each other alive. Both capable of first-degree murder.

And so neither of you pull away. There's no way he's doing time for you. There's no way you're doing time for him. Looks like you'll just have to kiss forever. Shame. Such a hardship. However will you cope?

"I-" he begins, before cutting himself off, easing his grip on your waist. One of his hands lingers, while the other pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes wincing. "Shit-" he finally lets you go. "I don't know what that was. I'm sorry."

You want to tell him that it's okay, that you didn't mind, that he could do it again - but it's clear he doesn't agree.

"Just adrenaline," you offer, sinking down to perch on the worktop bench. Your defeated posture is hidden well like this. "Don't sweat it."

He stays silent as he turns around to resume his rummaging, looking for a charger that will fit your phone. He knows there's one in there, he just can't for the life of him remember when he last had it.

Everything feels a little awkward. You half think that you should fill the void with something, that you should break the ice, but what was the point? You'll be out of his hair soon.

And you are, home twenty minutes later. You had only charged your phone for ten minutes at his, just enough to get you home. It's about to die again. Not before Jungkook pings you a message, though.

He doesn't expect a response, but he lies awake until he sees your read receipt confirm that you've seen it.

Sadness doesn't suit you, sugar. I'm not gonna pry, but if you ever need a ride earlier than normal out of Daerim, give me a call.

He spent a good six minutes debating whether or not to end his message with a kiss, eventually deciding against it. No need to make the message any softer than it already was.

To his surprise, a bubble pops up on your side of the chat thread.

His heart twinges, your response saying everything he wished he had with just one simple letter:

x

JUNGKOOK HAS A terrible habit of taking out his stress on the people around him; the ones that he holds closest.

"I just don't see why it's such a big issue," Jimin says through a mouthful of salad greens. His teeth chomp so loudly that Jungkook thinks they'll have to swing by the dentistry labs later that afternoon. Which Jimin'll probably like, considering he won't stop fucking rambling on about a dentistry student at the moment. "She's hot, she's got guys practically falling at her feet and she's interested in you. It's one party. Stop being so fucking boring."

Yoongi casts Jungkook a sympathetic look. He doesn't work so much at the moment, what with his chemistry finals coming up, and especially not in the Daerim area.

That's Jungkook's market now - but he did happen to have a drop-off for a last-minute order a couple of weeks back.  Territory isn't an issue between the friends, with Jungkook respecting Yoongi far too much to ever tell him to back off, or to not take deals in that area.

He had been about to approach Jungkook that night, when he noticed you crossing the street, a smile plastered on your face. He couldn't see Jungkook's face from the angle he was at, but he could see how raised his cheeks were. And so he left the pair of you to it, knowing better than to stick his nose where it wasn't wanted.

Unlike Jimin, apparently.

"Not boring," Jungkook retorts, tossing the wrapper his chopsticks came in at Jimin's face. "Got a bunch of assignments due in."

"Dude, you've been MIA for weeks. If we didn't have classes together, I'd have sent out a search party by now."

"You're being dramatic."

"You're being boring."

"Kids, settle down," Yoongi interjects, and wonders why he doesn't just find friends his own age. Logistics, he decides. The perils of having to save up for university before he could actually attend.

Jimin, being Jimin, then proceeds to bicker with Yoongi, leaving Jungkook free to find your face amongst the canteen crowd. You're sat with friends, none of whom he's ever met.

Your hair is up, like it always is during school, but you've let your grown out bangs frame your face. Pretty, he thinks. Prettiest girl here.

But then you stand up, and Jungkook turns caveman. Head empty. No thoughts. Just nonsense. Jesus Christ. Who gave you the right? God damn.

A few months ago, he would have looked at you in that outfit - a silky sage green playsuit over a white tee, sunglasses resting on your head like an alice band and a pair of white converse on your feet - and he probably would have scoffed. Wouldda said some bullshit about the fact you're dressed like a child, or that the weather isn't good enough to warrant such an outfit.

A few months ago, he was a fucking idiot.

You feel his gaze on you, just like you always do.

And you ignore it.

You've been getting good at that. Pretending as if you don't feel his eyes. As if you're unaffected, unbothered by the simplest form of intimacy: a single look.

He knows you've been keeping your distance. Watching from afar is all he can do when you slink out of class before he can catch your attention. He tells himself that he doesn't care.

Jungkook mutes the audio track of the editing software he uses when he stitches together your footage, so he doesn't have to relive your conversations or hear you laugh, or worse, hear himself laugh.

It's all a bit nauseating.

Maybe a party would actually be a good distraction.

"Tonight, did you say?" Jungkook pipes up out of nowhere, only dragging his eyes away from you when he sees you pull your phone out to send a text. 

He pouts. You never text him. Not once since last Thursday. 

And you were nowhere to be seen on Tuesday.

He had called you, and for once, you didn't pick up. He didn't try again. Decided that it was on you just as much as it was on him.

That being said, he didn't get home till four in the morning, two and half hours after his last deal. Spaffed away an entire tank of petrol. Rode in fucking circles. Just in case.

"Now we're talking!" Jimin grins. "Tonight. It's her birthday, she's rented a bar in Itaewon - Dad knows the landlord or something."

Jungkook didn't know who 'she' was. Hadn't been listening to that part of the conversation.

"Well, you kids enjoy yourselves," Yoongi sighs as he gets to his feet. "Can't risk my finals over a few crappy drinks in a shitty bar."

"Oh boo-hoo!" Jimin pouts. "Spoilsport."

When Jungkook enters the bar that evening, he's greeted with everything he expects. E-cigarette vapours cloud the air, a cocktail of flavours violating his senses as he heads to the bar, shitty EDM pumping through the speakers. It's been a while since he let his hair down, so to speak.

There's something about him that commands attention. People gravitate towards him, even through the smoke clouds and sweaty bodies. Girls buy him drinks. Guys buy him drinks, too. Anything just to spend time in his presence. Like leeches, they hope to share some of Jungkook's aura.

It's impossible, though. It's Jungkook's authenticity that gives him such charisma. Trying to emulate it only ever comes off as tacky - like the guy towards the back of the room who's permed his hair to look like Jungkook's. Pierced his eyebrow, too. Looks like shit. Jungkook doesn't want to judge him, but he's a few drinks deep, and being kind is what got him into that mess with you in the first place.

No good ever comes from being nice.

He takes a shot. Tequila. Chases it down with lemonade. The girl next to him is playing with the bracelets on his wrist. Her nails scratch a little bit, and he quite likes it, so he doesn't resist when pulls him onto the dancefloor. He observes the way she moves first, and isn't disappointed. She knows how to move her hips, and seems to like it when he puts his hands on them. He can't really feel the sensation when she kisses him. The alcohol has numbed his lips. Maybe Jimin was right to force him into this.

By the time he goes to the bar for another drink, he's faded. Off his tits. Helped himself to some of Hobi's stash that he was supposed to be distributing that evening. A little bit of coke never does him any harm. He knows his limits. Tastes like shit down the back of his throat, but he kind of enjoys it.

At first, he thinks he must be seeing things when he catches you with an espresso martini in hand, laughing with people he doesn't know.

You've this whole life that he's no part of. A whole entire world. He really is an outsider looking in.

You're one of the elite; an old-money heiress. The type to own a miniature dog breed and only fly business class. It was stupid of him to think your interest in him had been anything more than entertainment. A 'little bit of rough.' Excitement away from the confines of the life he's sure your parents must have planned out for you.

It might just be because he's coked up, but he doesn't care about any of that. 

All he can think about is the fact he's pretty sure you've never looked more beautiful.

He feels so lost looking at you like this, as if he needs to be closer, for fear of losing sight of you entirely.

And so he sits beside you at the bar, orders his drink, waits for you to notice him. Which you do.

You'd spotted him the very second you walked into the bar, his hands all over some girl you don't know.

In all fairness, you didn't realise he would be there. Sohyun, the girl whose birthday it was and an old friend from high school, has been fawning over Jungkook for months. Just superficial drawling, comments about his thighs and the fact she'd quite like to be suffocated by them. Harmless, really. You know she's never actually made a move.

Sohyun doesn't know you're working on a project together. You avoid the topic of him altogether, especially with her.

But she does notice the way Jungkook is looking at you like he's seen a ghost; haunted and comforted all in the same expression.

"You're here," he finally says, and it feels as if your chest is about to cave in.

Turning to face him, you're casual in your posture. Unbothered. Completely unaffected by him, and the lipstick that's painting those lips of his that you like so much.

You raise your thumb and swipe it across his bottom lip. He's silent as you do so, watching you, holding his breath. His lip moves like rubber beneath your touch, soft and supple, springing back into position once you release it.

You raise your thumb to study the lipstick you've collected from him. "Plum's really not your colour, Jungkook."

He doesn't say anything, a little transfixed. It's barely ticked past midnight. You should be in Daerim.

In all fairness, so should he. Hobi had some choice words for Jungkook when he told him that he wasn't working that evening at such short notice.

You swipe open your phone and repeat the step, filming your thumb as Jungkook becomes captive to your touch. You want to look, to see how wide his dark eyes are, but you're too busy feigning disinterest.

"There," you smile, forwarding the video along before you lock your phone. "Just sent you a video of how I see the city tonight."

You've no right to be annoyed. You know that.

Jungkook can be in a bar with another girl's lipstick on his chin if wants to be. He can stay out all night, and he can stay in beds that aren't his. It's his prerogative.

But you are annoyed.

It's irrational, and pathetic, and you shouldn't be.

You barely know him. Not really.

After you'd shown him your favourite tree at the Design Plaza a few weeks ago, he'd insisted on taking you across town to Garosugil, a street in Gangnam lined with beautiful tall trees. He questioned why you only had one favourite tree, when you could have had an entire row of them instead.

At the time, you'd enjoyed the way his eyes looked beneath the lights of the designer stores that neither of you could afford. You didn't question what he had meant.

It seems like you found your answer.

"I'm not the city," he eventually says.

And he's right.

He's not the city.

Fuck it, no, he's not the city, but his eyes sparkle like Itaewon on Friday nights, and his hands are strong like the World Cup Bridge. He's not the city, but you find it so easy to get lost in him without a map, and sometimes wearing his leather jacket makes you feel like you're eating comfort food at your favourite breakfast bar over in Myeong-dong. He's not the city.

He's not the goddamn city.

But it feels a little like you'd accidentally anchored your navigation pin in him regardless.

All you do is smile, and tell him that he's right.

"Look," he begins, and you can smell the spiced rum on his breath.

"It's okay," you interrupt. Who are you to make him feel guilty for his promiscuous encounters?

He doesn't know what you do in the dark. Not really. If he did, he probably wouldn't have kissed you last week.

"No, I-" he cuts himself off like he always does when he doesn't wanna fuck up his words. The alcohol is doing him absolutely zero favours. "I dunno, sugar."

Your smile is sad, and he hates himself. You lean forward, press a kiss into his rosy cheek and whisper, "That'll be 20,000, Jeon."

And because he's drunk, and he wants to make things better, he reaches for his wallet. You were about to walk away regardless, but damn, if the boy doesn't know how to hit you where it hurts.

"Really, Kook?"

It's like he doesn't know you at all; doesn't remember how you banter with him, how you flirt with him. Or maybe you were just stupid for thinking that you'd been flirting with him in the first place. Maybe he just speaks to everyone how he speaks to you. Must have spoken to whoever was wearing that lipstick in the same way.

He doesn't answer, not verbally, but his brows pinch together and his lips develop a frowning pout.

When he stumbles home that evening, he asks himself the same question: really, Kook?

In the morning, he wakes alone, with no recollection of how he got home. 

He doesn't remember the girl from the bar, or the fact that Jimin threw up in a fish tank, or that they're now barred from three different establishments for encouraging people to snort fish food (which Jungkook had stolen while Jimin was emptying his stomach). Regretfully, he doesn't even remember your arrival at the first bar. Doesn't remember how, for once, you'd dressed to impress just him.

His lack of recollection means fuck all though, 'cause despite his headache, the thing weighing down most heavily on him is guilt. He feels a sense of duty when it comes to you; duty that he hasn't performed lately. Were you getting home safe? Getting harrassed by scummy fuckers on the Daerim path of destruction?

Out of habit, he checks his phone, ignores the messages from unknown numbers and goes straight to your message thread to check the damage. He's surprised to find that he didn't drunk text you, but even more surprised to find that you'd messaged him. It's a video, just a few seconds, but it's enough to provoke some of his memories back.

He watches your thumb as it glides across his bottom lip. Watches it again. Notices the lipstick. Notices the thumb ring he never realised you wore before, and the fact that your nails are black now instead of their usual pink. There's something erotic about it; the way you touch him. The way you filmed yourself touching him. He'll probably get in trouble for it, but there's no way he isn't adding that to your project.

You consider ignoring his call when your phone flashes with his caller I.D.

It's only just gone seven, and you're still in bed, still try to make heads or tails of your life.

But you're weak, and so you slide your thumb across the little green icon.

"Hey."

"Uh, hey."

"You good?"

"So hungover, I think I might die," Jungkook jokes, voice hoarse. You wonder if he always sounds like this in the morning. "Just wanted to check in with you though. Barely seen you all week, and then I end up with a weird-ass video in our message thread that I don't remember."

Ah. You cringe.

"Ran into you at the bar," you shrug, not that he can see you. "Didn't realise you were friends with Sohyun."

"Hmm?"

"Sohyun... the girl who's birthday it was?"

"Oh. Right. Yeah. Nah, no, not really friends with her. Jimin forced me along."

You don't know all that much about Jimin, but from your limited interactions with him, it doesn't surprise you. Not in the slightest.

"Good night?"

Your question sounds forced and awkward, and he doesn't quite understand why.

"No idea," he admits honestly. "Remember fuck all."

He sounds as if he wants to keep talking but doesn't know what to say.

You don't know what to say either.

It's a mess. You liked it better when he hated you.

"Were you at the bar for long?" He asks, genuinely curious. "You're normally busy on Thursdays?"

"Just a drink. Had a last-minute change of plans."

"Oh?"

"Yeah..."

You know he wants you to elaborate. He wants more without having to explicitly ask for it.

Which is apt. Seems like it's a common occurrence with Jungkook.

"So what did you call for?" you change the topic, not wanting to dwell. The aversion doesn't go unnoticed by him, but it does go unquestioned.

"I-" there he goes again, cutting himself off prematurely. Coward. "Are you free? Now?"

Oh.

Not a coward. Just cautious.

"Now? I mean, yeah, I guess."

Jungkook takes a second, and then he bites down on the grenade pin.

"Can you come over?"

THE WAY YOU keep Jungkook hanging on tenterhooks is deliberate.

You're unsure of him, of his motivations, and what he does in the dark. And so, while you want to let your guard down, you can't. It's probably something to do with your parents - the people who are supposed to love you unconditionally - making their love entirely conditional and withdrawing it so suddenly.

It's the kind of shit you would have spoken about with your therapist, but you can't afford her anymore.

Can't afford much of anything, anymore. So much of the money you've earnt recently is tied up in credit card debt or rent.

Foundation was the first luxury that you'd compromised, and you're still yet to buy any more. Cheap stuff always makes you break out, and thankfully your parents did give you decent genetics, at least, so your skin was pretty clear.

It's the lack of make up that suggests to Jungkook you're opening up; not hiding from him anymore.

But it's also what tells him something is incredibly wrong, when you show up at his door half an hour later with a graze beneath your eye. Little flecks of reddened skin creep up your cheekbone, and Jungkook thinks it almost looks like carpet burn.

He hadn't noticed it last night, but it was dark, and he was drunk.

He lets you in, takes your jacket, offers you a drink. Everything that he knows he should do. Asks how you are, keeps a safe distance.

You don't know why you're here. Why you didn't say you were busy.

Except you do. 

It's cause you miss him whenever you're away from him.

"I like these," you smile as you look at the artwork he has up in his room. The studio space is small, cramped, like all semi-basements are, but it's distinctly 'his'. A lot different to yours. Everything you own is still in boxes, not yet unpacked. 

You've refused to come to terms with that being your life now.

"Thanks," he nods, watching you as you explore the box of a room he calls home. "They're from a guy down by the coach station. Has a little stall."

"You'll have to show me," you muse, turning to smile at him. It's saccharine, but the graze on your face is just so bitter. He hates it. Hates that he doesn't know how you got it. "Think I'd like some for my place."

"I have a feeling they'd look a little out of place in a princess tower, sugar."

Your shoulders shake as you laugh quietly, not correcting him. He doesn't need to know that you're a basement dweller, too.

"How's the editing coming along?" You steer the question away from your living situation.

"Nearly there," he grins, brimming with quiet excitement. Something about the way your camerawork looks with his editing technique layered on top just really works. He's always been confident with his final projects, and this one scares him a little bit, but in a good way. It's his best yet. Maybe he did need you after all.

"Can I see?"

"Not yet."

"Kook," you say, and - oh god - you're pouting. Jungkook suddenly begins to feel nervous.

It's that scary feeling again. A fear of the good stuff. Trepidation.

"What?" he grins, walking a little closer to you, letting his hand stroke against your back as he sits down on his bed. His fingers catch yours. It's fleeting, but enough.

You both feel it.

"Such a tease," you say, talking about the project, but there's innuendo in your words, too.

"Some girls like it," he flirts back.

"The girl at the bar last night seemed to like it."

Jungkook rolls his eyes, boyish and charming. It's annoying, you think, how impossible it is to be mad at him. It's not because you're weak, or because you can't resist his charms, but because he has a way of playing things off as if they're no big deal.

The girl at the bar? A nobody, his shrug suggests. She doesn't matter.

And it's so easy to believe, because you're the one in his apartment. You're the one he wanted here, the one that he missed. Or at least, the one that he was thinking of when he decided that he could do with some company.

It might be nothing, just something to pass the time, but it makes you feel wanted. Desired. Needed.

So you accept his hand when he reaches out towards you, pulling you closer, positioning you between his spread legs. You're standing, his eyes level with your chest, unashamed as he looks at your body.

"You look warm," he husks.

Just like he always uses your body temperature as excuse to give you his jacket, he's using it as an excuse now, too. The desired effect is obvious.

His AC switchboard is on the wall behind his bed. You'd clocked it when you were walking around, observing his possessions. Yanmar, the branding reads, the plastic outer frame beige. Once, it would have been crisp white. Age has dulled it. The monochrome monitor has a clock symbol in the corner, an indicator that Jungkook has his AC set on a timer. It suggests a sense of permanence. This is his home.

You haven't set your timer yet. You just flick it on when you get hot. It isn't your home.

He watches you as you move, curious. He's smirking, because he just cant help himself. 

And because he knows that you like it whenever he does. Gets you a little bit flustered.

One of your knees hooks over his lap, and then the other follows suit.

He'd have said you were straddling him. You'd have argued that you were simply reaching over to the AC.

And you do exactly that, flicking the switch, watching as it lights up. "There. Much better."

Touche, he thinks. Smiles. Grips your thighs, as if he's scared you'll stand up again. Scared to lose you.

In all honesty, he had been hoping you'd take your shirt off, but he isn't going to complain with you in his lap, instead.

Doesn't matter if you mix the eggs with the milk first, or the flour. You still bake a cake at the end of it all.

Jungkook looks at you in such a way that you find yourself thinking maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be so horrible to let someone in. His eyes are honest, void of ulterior motives. He's doing this because he wants to. Because he wants you.

Wants that feeling back. The one where his lips are cushioned between yours, his tongue licking into your mouth.

Jungkook wants what he wants. Jungkook gets what he wants.

And, fuck, if it isn't bare minimum - but you know this, and you don't care. Bare minimum tastes pretty fucking good when you're licking it from his lips.

His hands roam, and you let them. He's rough with his movements, but the fleshy pads of his fingertips are soft, like silk against your skin. It's almost like he's afraid, filled with the knowledge that he can bruise, if he really wants to.

But he doesn't want to. He wants to ask about the graze that's sitting pretty where blush should be. Jungkook doesn't wanna hurt. He wants to heal.

"I catch you looking, you know," you tell him before he gets a chance, wanting to see how he responds. "Every now and again..." He hikes you forward in his lap. Places you dead centre over his cock. You can feel it. He can feel you. "...I catch you looking at me." He presses a kiss against the base of your neck, obsessed with the way it vibrates when you speak. "Why are you always looking at me?"

The fact that you're sat in his lap, grinding your hips against a solid bulge, should be indication enough.

Jungkook isn't going to spell it out for you. The eroticism of suggesting he's a fucking voyeur makes him want to laugh - but the way your nipples are tenting the shirt you're wearing distracts him.

His teeth graze your throat, hands creeping round to your tummy. His fingers are long, practically the length of the expanse between your hips and the underneath of your plump tits. Just a little further and he'd be holding them, cupping them, caressing. Just a little further.

"I look at you-" His hands continue their exploration as he leans back, watching the movement beneath your shirt. It somehow feels forbidden - like he can touch, but not look. After all, your question had sounded quite a lot like a telling off. "-because you like me looking at you."

He's fucking with you, trying to get a rise.

"Do I?"

The way that you whimper as he brushes against your nipples has him pulsing his hips. Your eyes close, head tilting back ever so slightly. You like this. The way he does it.

"Uh-huh," he mumbles, lips wet against your neck. His fingers knead into the flesh of your tits, nipples hard in his palm as he relieves his stresses. "Bet you think about it all day, don't you? Think about the way I look at you when no-one else does."

Yes.

"All day?" you smirk between dulcet moans. "You're lucky if I pay you any attention at all."

"I think you're lying," he declares rather boldly, hands all over you. "I think it plays on your mind. I bet you fall asleep thinking about it, don't you?"

Yes.

"Ddaeng."

"I bet you get yourself off thinking about it."

Maybe you do. 

Maybe you've whispered his name in the dead of night, imagining how it would feel to have his body weight on top of yours. Maybe you get intrusive thoughts of that kiss every single time you try to draw close. Maybe Jungkook has made you cum without ever laying a single finger on you.

But even if he has, you won't tell him.

And you don't need to, because his phone buzzing on the bedside table behind you cuts the conversation dry. Jungkook glances towards it automatically, then back up to you. His frustration is evident, jaw tense.

"I gotta get this," he mumbles, encouraging you off of his lap. You don't resist, accepting the last five minutes for what they were: a momentary lapse in judgement. He sighs as he stands, adjusting his trousers, swiping his phone and putting it to his ear. He strolls just far enough away that you won't hear what or who is on the other line. "Hobi. Speak to me."

Hobi, you muse. A friend? A colleague? Another girl?

You swallow back the nauseating feeling in your throat, pretending as if the prospect of Jungkook with someone else doesn't chip away at your self-worth a little bit. It wasn't like you thought you had anything special between the pair of you.

But he was right. You did like him looking at you.

More than you had realised until the prospect of him looking at someone else arose.

From the corner of the room, you could hear Jungkook trying to interrupt the person he was talking to. The first syllable would escape, and then he'd hush again, never quite managing to get the words out in full.

"Ho-" His nostrils look quite cute when they flare, lips pursed, a pair of unique dimples becoming evident. They're different to the usual ones you notice. Full of surprises was Jeon Jungkook. 

"Hobi, can I-" 

He runs his hand through his hair, already dishevelled from your hands. 

"Hobi will you let me fucking talk!"

Attaboy.

The pause that follows Jungkook's outburst would suggest that Hobi had said 'no' - and then a few more choice words. If Jungkook rolled his eyes back any further, they'd surely get stuck.

"Look, I'm a bit tied up right now- no! No, not that. Who? No. I don't know a Taehyung, and even if I did- Huh? Ain't got nothin' to do with Holangi. Don't know a single one of 'em." 

You try to decipher the conversation, but fail. 

"You're a real fuckin' cockblock, yanno?" 

You blush. 

"Fuck it, fine. But you owe me. I'm not saying yes next time."

He glances over to you, catching your raised brow. Next time?

A smile catches on his lips. You thought this would be a one time thing?

He's barely hit second base. If there's one thing you're yet to find out about Jungkook, it's that he loves to win. He won't be satisfied until he's got a home run.

Any other girl, and he'd have probably been running laps for fun by this point, but you... yeah, you didn't bowl him easy hitters, that was for sure.

Jungkook moves with confidence, like he always does, as he strides over to the sofa, the bulge in his pants considerably softened but still present. "Take a picture," he grins. "It'll last longer."

You roll your eyes, but it doesn't stop you from asking if that's an offer. He laughs - that soft, gentle thrum of his vocal chords that sounds so heavenly in your ears - and tells you to behave.

"I just gotta help a friend out," he says as he reaches over you to grab his rucksack. It's heavier now than it ever is at school, the jingle of crushed tin foil rustling as it briefly catches on your knee. He pretends not to notice the curiosity in your eyes. Pretty eyes, though. He quite likes them, especially when he's towering above you and can see the whites just above your lashline. Yeah, he likes them alot. "I'll only be an hour or so. You can stay here, if you like?"

The way he phrases it is so casual that it's almost like you're old friends.

That, or Jungkook's just used to having women he doesn't know very well stay at his place.

You're unaware of the mental gymnastics he's putting himself through. If he could kick himself without looking like a twat, then he definitely would.

Shrugging, you give him a polite smile. "I don't wanna overstay my welcome."

"Nah, you're fine. I can give you a lift back to yours when I'm home? I'll be an hour. Two, tops."

Finally you agree, watching as he leaves like a lovesick puppy, listening out for the familiar rattle of his exhaust pipe. There's a cough and splutter of petrol spitting onto the sidewalk as his motor roars into action, and then he's gone.

You don't hang around for much longer.

You tell yourself that you will. That it would be nice. That you and Jungkook might not be so ill-suited after all.

But as the clock ticks by on the wall, you find yourself getting antsy. You find yourself asking stupid questions. Who exactly is Hobi? What was in Jungkook's bag? Why is he always down in Daerim? Is that where he's gone now?

The thoughts grow, adapt, intrude. Before you know it, you're considering what you'd find if you opened the top drawer of his bedside cabinet. 

Realistically, you know it would probably be a wank sock and a tub of vaseline - it doesn't matter though. Your mind is wondering. You need to scratch the itch.

Just a little peek. He'll never know.

Oh, how you loathe your brain.

What's the worst you could find? A revolver? His ex-girlfriends panties? Love letters? A crack pipe?

Somehow, you'd rather find a pipe than panties. 

It's not that you want Jungkook to be a crack addict. It's just the more that you think about it, the more you come to realise that you really, really don't like the idea of someone else feeling how warm his torso is, or how his upper teeth always nip slightly when he starts kissing you, until the pressure of his pecks plump his lips. You've only experienced it a handful of times, and it's stupid to get carried away, but he just makes it so easy.

He didn't ask you to stay, you tell yourself. He asked you if you wanted to.

Moments of instability like this are exactly why girls like you don't spend time with boys like him. It's stupid. Futile. A game for fools.

You leave his apartment as you found it, with not even a note to say thank you. He's had a squeeze on your tits. You deem that thank you enough. If anything, he should be thanking you.

When he returns, just half an hour after your departure, he can still smell your perfume. He tosses his keys down, calls out your name, and is met with silence. It takes him a moment or so to realise that he's alone.

There's a sinking feeling in his chest that he doesn't recognise. Doesn't like. Hates, in fact.

But fine. Fuck it. He didn't want you there anyway. He'd just been doing a good deed. Being kind because - if your face was any indication - obviously someone else had been particularly unkind to you.

Jungkook thinks he knows who, now.

Daerim nights have always been sketchy, but the days are no better. 

He's just the lowest rung on a long ladder of criminals who turn a profit when the sun goes down in Seoul.

Hobi had asked him to drop the stash in his rucksack off at a club, some gang-run joint that Jungkook doesn't know much about, so that he could get them back to his boss. 

That had been the plan, at least.

He slings his bag down, now empty, and sinks into the sofa, not bothering to get a rag to clean himself up. No point. The dried blood will just wash off in his shower. It's not the first time this has happened. He doubts it will be the last.

Jungkook's nose is currently bleeding, dripping down his chin and hitting the ceramic tiles of his apartment with small slaps. A bruise is forming above his left eye socket, and his knuckles are red.

A punch to the face means very little to Jungkook.

He's young, but he's strong. Fast, too. It could have been a lot worse if he wasn't.

He pushes the back of his hand against his nose, sniffing, before unlocking his phone, and dialing a number he knows now by heart.

The dial tone bleeds out, just like his nose.

And so he hangs up, and calls the only person he knows he can rely on.

"Wassup, kid?"

Jungkook doesn't mean to sob, but he cant help it. He knows Yoongi has finals coming up. He doesn't need his bullshit on his plate, too.

"I got jumped Yoongs."

Fuck.

"You alright? Sound pretty bad? Where?"

"Daerim-"

"The fuck you doing there at this time of day?"

"Hobi wanted me to drop off my stash."

"Kook..." Yoongi speaks slowly, coming to a horrific realisation. A few punches had never bothered Jungkook before. Something bigger was at play. "The stash...?"

Jungkook can hear it in Yoongi's voice: fear.

"Gone."

Yoongi sighs down the line. "Hobi know yet?"

"No."

"Alright, get outta your flat," Yoongi begins, not wasting time. Now is not the time for emotions, and it's clear that Jungkook isn't capable of that just yet. "I need you to go somewhere safe, somewhere you can lie-low for a little bit alright? Let me sort it-"

"Yoong-"

"Let me sort it. I got you into this mess. Don't sweat it."

"Ple-"

"Kook. Seriously. Trust me with this."

Yoongi doesn't let him debate it any further - and it's just as well he doesn't, because as soon as he hangs up the phone, another call comes through. Jungkook wants to answer it. Really, he does.

Jungkook's just very aware of the fact that the guy who jumped him had almost been waiting for him. Right by the entrance of the apartment block which he always picked you up from. 

In between blows, he'd warned Jungkook to 'stay the fuck away from the girl'.

The girl who's now returning his call.

"Hey," you say animatedly, having not expected him to call. You thought the pair of you would resume your usual awkward routine of pretending like nothing ever happened. "Sorry, I was in the shower. You good? Sorry I left, I just did-"

"I need a favour," he doesn't bother with formalities.

You want to banter with him, to flirt, but the tone of his voice warns you not to. So instead you tell him that you'll do whatever he needs.

"Can I come over?"

Fuck. Anything except that.

"Please."

YOU DON'T EXPECT to say yes. You don't expect to care more about him than you do about protecting your own dignity. You don't expect Jungkook to traipse down the stairs that lead to your slovenly open door with a glum look on his bloodsoaked face, as you stand there waiting for him.

But he does.

He makes no comment, no remark about the building. Just wraps his arms around your head, cradling you against his chest as you stand in your doorway. You can hear his heartbeat, thud, thud, thud against his ribs.

Go somewhere safe, Yoongi had told him. It was a no brainer.

"I'm sorry," he says, eventually pulling himself away from you. "I didn't know who else to ask."

You tell him it's fine, and you mean it. Keeping up pretences doesn't really matter so much anymore. Perhaps honesty was overdue from the both of you.

"The fuck happened to you?" You ask, tenderly reaching up to stroke away some of the dried blood from his lip. He winces, hisses, body tense, but he lets you continue. "Sorry."

"Could ask you the same, sugar," he speaks kindly, not wanting you to think he's being critical as he nods to the entryway behind you.

You grit your teeth together and let your hand rest on his shoulder. "King kicked the princess out of the castle."

And, suddenly, it doesn't seem embarrassing anymore. In fact, it seems perfectly apt that Jungkook knows. He doesn't pry, don't push for further clarification. Just nods. Accepts your reality.

"Castles are overrated, anyway," he presses a kiss to your head, and gently guides you through the threshold. The corridor is short, opening up to an open plan studio. The layout varies from Jungkook's, but it's similar in size. Small.

"Ignore the wallpaper," you say of the awkwardly granny-ish floral print. It's beige, so not totally offensive, but dear god, you think it looks like vomit.

"No," he grins. "It's... wow. Your landlord really knows how to make a statement, don't they?"

You perch on your bed and cringe. "A statement... a crime against interior design. Whatever you wanna call it."

Jungkook continues to pace around your room with a curious smile. He's partially deflecting from the fact he knows you're probably dying to ask about his face, and why he was so desperate to be with you, but he's also interested in the life you neglected to share with him.

Brown cardboard boxes are piled high in the corners, your possessions not yet unboxed.

This place is just temporary.

You've got three and a half million won sat on your desk. A couple more weeks, just a few, and you'll have enough for a deposit on a decent flat. Then you can get a regular job, something stable, and you won't have to worry. You could work through the summer and then figure out what to do next. Just as long as you keep on moving upwards, you'll be happy.

"So," you begin gingerly, as you head to the kitchenette beside your bed, wetting a cloth beneath your tap. "You gonna tell me what happened to your face?"

He takes your previous position, inviting himself to sit on the end of your bed, anticipating your return. There's light coming in from the thin windows by your ceiling, hitting directly onto your back. He thinks it's apt. Thinks you're the kind of girl who deserves a spotlight. Thinks that Mother Nature agrees.

Jungkook shrugs, in that lazy, boyish way he so often does, as you walk towards him. He spreads his legs, encouraging you between them, letting his hands graze your thighs. You pretend not to notice as you press the damp cloth to his cheek. Tiny crows legs appear at the edges of his eyes, face wincing from the contact. It's painful.

But being alone would be more painful. He chose to be here. To be with you.

And so he tells you what happened, with as much honesty he can muster. There are some things better left unsaid, his occupation being one of them. You listen attentively, dabbing at his wounds, a frown etched into the lines of your face.

"Stay away from the girl, huh?" you muse, avoiding his eyes as you study his face. His nose is still bleeding, but every time you tell him to tilt his head towards the ceiling, it ends up back in its original position. He can't see you as well with his head tilted back. Doesn't like it. Doesn't wanna do it. "Could be any girl."

Jungkook's dimple forms in his cheek. "No. No, it couldn't."

His fingers that have been grazing at your thighs squeeze tenderly, letting you know he means it. More than he thinks you know. More than he knows he should.

There's a chance that any words spoken between the pair of you could be misconstrued. He doesn't know what his feelings for you are, and you don't really understand yours for him - but you understand your body, and the electric current running beneath your lips, dying for a connection. A little spark.

So you do the only thing that makes sense: you kiss him.

And he kisses you back. Slowly, tenderly, deliberately. His lips melt into yours, hand pulling your legs closer. He encourages you onto his lap, as if he needs to be insufferably close to you. Once you're positioned how he wants, just like you were earlier, he grips your waist, keeping you stationed there.

Jungkook knows he should stop.

He knows he should have paid attention to the pair of fists that warned him off you as his skull hit the pavement earlier that morning, knows he shouldn't let himself get so wrapped up in such a red flag - but he just can't help himself. It's like you're laced in the narcotics he deals, and slowly but surely, you've gotten him addicted.

He's craving. Dying for a hit. Just a little taste of your tongue on his, the scent of your shampoo in his nose.

Red flags, red stop signs, pretty red lips all plump from the kisses he's smothering them in. Red blood, too. His nose is still a little damaged, and the way he's painting your cheek in crimson should repulse you.

Should repulse you.

Like fuck it does, though. You can smell the copper twinge through his plasma, and suddenly it's as if the Cullen's had the right idea all along.

When he pulls back, only for a moment, hands clutching at the side of your face to assess the look in your eyes, he notices it too. Hard not to. You blush all the fucking time, so much so that he knew the shade by heart, and the rouge on your cheek is far too vibrant, too scarlet. It's his fucking blood on you.

It should scare him, he knows. But the way you're looking at him, eyes all wide and glassy, lips swollen and waiting for more, has him unable to think straight. It has him obsessed, the way you don't care. The way he's covered you in blood and you still seem to want more.

But there's a softness to the way in which you're looking at him, mild confusion, as if you've got the same strange warmth running through your veins as he does. It's not a feeling he recognises, pulsing through his bloodstream with every beat of his heart.

Perhaps it's nothing. Jungkook tells himself that it is. Just adrenaline, probably.

You look at his lips, all crimson and blushed, and realise you much prefer the shade of his blood to the plum lipstick that had tainted them the night before. You're delicate as you wipe your thumb along his pouted bottom lip, just like you did in the bar. Except this time, the jealousy that had blossomed in your diaphragm is nowhere to be found. There's still a pinch beneath your ribs, but this time it's in your heart, and it's far more aching. This time, you feel his hurt.

Jungkook reaches down to where you left the damp cloth on your bed. It's wet and heavy in his hand, a little warm, too. He brings it to your face and dabs silently, cleaning you of the mess he's made. Fixing you. Restoring you to your former glory.

Its futile, 'cause his nose is still fucking bleeding, and you don't plan on leaving it more than a moment before you kiss him again. You simply don't care. Want him for all that he is, blood, sweat and tears.

But still, he insists on ridding you of his stain. Doesn't want to tarnish you. He's soft with the way he presses the cloth against you, mirroring how tenderly you were with him earlier. He's learning from you, adapting to you. Wants to be like you. Wants to be 'better'.

You watch as his eyes scan your face, brows twisted like they always do when he's about to say something but stops himself. The vertical groove just above his cupid's bow is red, blood tacky as it dries. If he kisses you now, he'll leave a stamp; a mark that says 'you're mine.'

It's too much. Far too much. You aren't his, and he knows this. He never wanted you to be his, in fact, for the longest time, he had wanted to be anything but yours.

But now he sits beneath you, crestfallen, heart in his throat, blocking him from speaking.

This was never part of the plan. He was never supposed to end up here. He was supposed to escape from the trenches, to get on the path of straight and narrow. Thrive. Succeed.

And it's not your fault, he knows this, but there's a little part of him that wonders what could have happened if he hadn't seen you that night in Daerim, hadn't seen the way your eyes look beneath night market lights, hadn't heard your laugh as he looked at his favourite view of the city.

You whisper his name, your palm resting flat on his chest, and his brows soften.

It doesn't matter what could have happened, anymore.

All that matters is what is happening.

The shortness of his breath, the flutter of his lashes against your cheek, the swelling between his legs. You can feel it, feel him, and he knows it. The way he's pulsing his hips upwards is testament to that.

It's a comfortable position, you sat on his lap on the end of your bed, not one that either of you wishes to break from. Not even as he begins to breathe against your lips, unable to properly control his reactions thanks to the friction beneath his briefs.

"Want you," he mumbles, pressing his lips into yours, the air in his lungs giving itself up to you. "Want you so bad."

You shake your head, brows pinched just a little. "I'm bad news for you."

And maybe that's it. Maybe he just wants you because he knows he shouldn't - but fuck it, if he can't let himself indulge in simple pleasures, then why bother getting himself beaten to a pulp over you?

"I'm bad news for myself, sugar," he husks against your lips, tickling them as he slips his tongue into your mouth. Deeper, deeper. Closer, closer. He wants it.

Wants it all.

Wants you naked.

Wants to know what it feels like to have you gasp in his ear as his hands roam beneath your panties.

Wants to know if you'd still look at him like you're stargazing even when he's railing you.

Wants it. Wants you. Just wants.

And what Jungkook wants, Jungkook gets.

He slips his hand up your shirt and pushes it upwards, before letting it crumple to the floor. You know that you should be more bashful, a little bit ashamed, but it's impossible when he's looking at you like this.

He has a visual now that he didn't have earlier. The glow of your skin beneath his bruised knuckles looks almost sinful, like he's plucking forbidden fruit from its tree. He'll pay the price for this, and he knows it, but he just can't resist.

Jungkook has always been a boob guy, always loved the way he could get girls moaning with just a little pinch, but never had he had a pair quite like yours. So full, so round, he's not sure his hands are big enough, and that doubt makes him throb. Soft and pillowy, he groans as he watches his fingers sink into them, utterly enthralled. His hips adjust, pushing upwards, pressing himself into you. He wants this. Wants it so bad.

You can feel the metal of his rings against your skin, and then you can feel his lips, his tongue, his teeth as they graze against the plush skin of your chest. He licks around your nipple, letting the air cool the wet trail, hardening you for him.

He's utterly obsessed.

His mouth pulls at the sensitive skin, suckles, sucks. His lashes are splayed on the tops of his cheeks, lips pouting around your nipple as he does so, small groans of pleasure vibrating against you. It will be a miracle if he can't already feel you seeping through your panties.

You whimper as his teeth graze your hardened nub, and his eyes flutter open. He doesn't detach himself, but instead, he keeps your gaze as he sucks. The pressure varies, and then it's hard. Really fucking hard. So hard you'll think he'll somehow give your nipple a hickey - but fuck, if you don't love the sensation.

"Christ," you gasp, before biting down into your bottom lip.

"Too hard?" He mumbles against you, peppering you in kisses and soft licks as if to apologise.

"No," you pant. "Was good. Was great. Just - fuck."

You laugh, soft and airy, and Jungkook smiles from the sound.

He likes this. Likes how you react to him.

And while he’s patient and gentle with you in a way that he isn't with other people, Jungkook has only ever known how to have sex in one way. It's ingrained into him, as if he was made to fuck like it; like he doesn't give a shit about the person he's screwing.

Jungkook doesn't do love, and you know this. He trades. Works in transactions. Settles debts. You don't really know this part, but you aren't stupid. You know he's never in Daerim for any good fucking reason.

You don't question it as his hands move south, slipping past your underwear. In fact, you're smug as he curses when he feels how wet you are, fingers slippery in your panties.

He pushes a finger into you, and closely follows it with a second. They curl ever so slightly, and it's at this point that you realise Jungkook is absolutely going to ruin you. Just a few pumps. Just to ease you up.

He's bored of waiting. Wants you now.

The pair of you move fluidly, minimal discussion needed, just occasional checks of 'you good?', or 'this okay?'. The answer is, always, without a doubt, 'yes'.

He gets you on your back, panties pulled off, legs not quite hanging off the edge of your bed, but nearly. He strips himself of his shirt first, and grins as he notices the way you whine.

"What?" he toys.

"Nothing," you flirt. "Just wish you'd hurry up. I'm a busy woman."

"Oh yeah?" The sound of his buckle coming undone is enough to make you fucking leak. "Busy doing what?"

You neglect to tell him. Not because you don't have a witty remark lined up, but because he's fucking naked now.

What a sight to behold he is. Body lean, honey skin flawless, muscles defined. You pretend like you're looking at his body, but your eyes are drawn to his cock. You'd expected length, but not the girth - and he has both in abundance. The tip of his cock is blushed and wet, with Jungkook just as aroused as you are.

Noticing your gaze, he rolls his eyes, and toys with your pussy again, lightly running his fingers up and down your slick entrance. When he pulls back, his fingers are still connected by thick clear fluid. His cock throbs.

"You're gonna get me so dirty," he hums, as he crawls onto the bed above you, before holding his fingers to your mouth. "Clean them."

Part of you wants to say no, but the other part of you can see his darkened gaze and the way his cock is twitching. You can't refuse.

His fingers are on the tip of your tongue, the tip of his cock nudging so close to your entrance that he may as well just do it. You raise your hips, encouraging, but he retracts a little just to tease.

The fingers that were in your mouth come to grip at the soft flesh of your cheeks, his thumb on the other side. "Don't you fucking dare."

There's tepid aggression to his movements, and it makes you feel vulnerable - but you like it. You like the way he's gripping your face, the ways he's looking at you with narrow eyes, just like he used to do across the lecture hall. You like being reminded of when you were nothing to one another, because it makes the satisfaction of feeling his stiff cock jump a little against your pussy as you moan so much more worth it.

He used to hate you, now he can't wait to bury his fat cock in you. Victory is yours, even if he's trying to act like he's the one holding all the cards.

You don't correct him, though. You let him think he has the upper hand. You'll play pillow princess just this once if it means you get to see him a little bit mean again.

"Dare what?" you pout, cheeks still squished between his fingers. He grips a little tighter, your chest rising as you gasp. He pulls your face towards his, sinking down into your lips, until he decided he's done with you.

He stands by the edge of your bed, and yanks your ankles towards him, pulling you close enough to the edge for him to fuck you like this.

The loss of his grip is unwelcome by you, a frown forming. He isn't looking at your face now, eyes down on his cock, which he's rubbing between your soaked pussy lips, but he can almost hear you brace yourself to whine. He smirks, one side of his mouth lifting, head knocking to the side slightly.

"Don't you dare try and set the pace," he finally husks, still not glancing up towards you. He's taking his time, making sure the head of his cock kisses every inch of your exposed mess. "Nearly got my nose fucking broken for this pussy-" he spits, hard and fast, right onto your clit, spreading it with his cock. "- so I'm gonna make sure I get what I'm owed."

He spreads your thighs back, his fingers gripping harshly just how you like it. Perhaps you should pretend to be embarrassed by the fact your cunt is leaking for him, begging for him, but the way he hisses at the sight, chest heaving, prevents it.

Jungkook's thought about this before, about how pretty and pristine you'd be, about the mess he'd hoped you'd make. Thought about it so many times. Fingers wrapped around his shaft in the middle of the night when no one can hear him chant your name as he spills over. Yeah, he's thought about it a lot.

His imagination has never done you justice. One look and he's obsessed. Wants to spend hours touching, caressing, licking you.

"Take it," you whisper. "What you're owed, Jungkook. Take it."

He looks up now, brows threaded together. You don't recognise the contemplation his face is laced in, but he doesn't give you the chance to question it, for you begin to feel that burn. The one your fingers can never give you. It's alien, and yet familiar, inherently natural but intrusive nonetheless.

"Shit," is all you can manage to say, eyes locked on his.

He wants to watch himself sink into you, watch as his fat cock forces your slick wetness out of your pussy, but he can't. Not when you're looking at him like that. Not when your chest is heaving and your eyes are watering beneath tense brows. Not when your mouth is hanging open and just begging to be fucked like your tight little pussy.

And then he starts feeling something a little strange. A little unfamiliar. A little bit like his heart has stalled to beat in time with the contractions of your chest. And though he's not in pain anymore, too busy feeling you, he's aware that it hurts. Aware that he can't fuck you like he wanted to, 'cause his chest needs to be against yours. Needs to feel the beating drum beneath your ribs.

He doesn't even realise that he's paused until you whine a meagre, "please."

"That's more like it," he hums, as he pushes into you, the base of his thick cock plugging the weeping mess that he's made. You know that as soon as he pulls out, you'll be whimpering, begging for the tip of his cock to kiss your walls once more. "See how nice things can be when you just behave yourself, huh?"

His hips push just a little deeper, and he knows that it hurts. Knows that the little gasp isn't entirely from pleasure. He's seen his cock. Doesn't take a genius to work out that it can do damage.

"You can take it," he tells you, and like a pathetic, whimpering mess, you fucking nod. He's still inside of you, still deeper than you thought possible, and then his hand is on your stomach. He grabs your hand and places it beneath his. "You feel that?" He retracts just a little, pushing back in just as deep. Beneath your hands, there's a bulge. External or internal, it doesn’t matter. It's him. He does it again. "You feel me taking what's mine?"

Whatever the fuck you moan is incoherent, but he doesn't give a shit, 'cause he's ploughing now. Bucking his hips into you like pneumatic fucking drill. Shit. He's done this before. Got it mastered to a fine art. Momenta worthy of a museum exhibition.

Your tits are pillowed on your chest, nice and round, wobbling as he takes command of your body. He slaps one of them, just to watch it ripple, before that firm grip of his is on it. "Perfect tits," he growls the compliment, not really meaning for it to come out. "Gonna put my cock between them later," he tells you. "Gonna cum all over them."

He doesn't tell you that he'll also clean them with his hungry tongue, before delivering his cum into your mouth. Figures he'll just let you find out. His brain is working at a mile a minute, trying to reign back thoughts of sharing his cum with you in such a filthy manner. God, he wants to do heinous things to you. With you. For you.

But for now, he needs to focus on his cock. It's rubbing inside of you, nuzzling. He knows he's weeping, and that his precum is getting mixed with your slick juices. Knows he won't last long if you keep whining like that. Mewling. Purring.

He stalls his hips, letting go of your tits as they jiggle back into position. Your cheeks are flushed, imprints of his fingers reddening your skin. Lips pouted and resting ajar, Jungkook thinks they've never looked more fuckable. More kissable. More whisper-sweet-nothings-against-able.

"You ever shut the fuck up?" he teases, but is quick to notice confusion flash in your eyes. He didn't mean it as an insult, but it's easy to read the hurt in your perplexed features, and the way you begin to try and push your legs together. It's futile. His cock is keeping you open.

But you feel embarrassed, as if your natural reactions to him are a turn-off. It's silly, because he's quite literally inside of you, fat and solid, using you to milk himself. Of course, he's not turned off, but you're hyper-aware of how vulnerable you're feeling right now. It had been fun to pretend like you were in control, but as soon as he slipped inside of you, all sense of power had evaporated.

He doesn't realise this though. Doesn't realise that his cock is nudging so deep into you that it's practically knocking against your heart. Knock, knock, knock. Who's there? Your mind taunts, but you daren't answer.

"Hey," he coos, one of his large palms stroking on the inside of your thighs. That uncomfortable, obscure feeling is back again. The one that tells him he needs to be closer to you. This time, he doesn't ignore it. His hips pulse, just the once. A reminder he's still very much into this. Into you.

His hands grip your waist, softly this time, as he manoeuvres himself onto the bed with you, keeping himself snug. Your head is by the pillows, Jungkook's knees on either side of your ass, his chest flat against yours as one of his hands cradles your jaw. He presses a chaste, airy kiss against your lips, and whispers, "I love the way you sound." He kisses you again, hips rocking. You're trying not to, but you whine. "Fuck, sugar. You're my favourite fucking sound."

Your legs hook over his back, and he groans now. The angle change lets him delve deeper, your walls massaging him so well. Jungkook thinks he might have died and gone to heaven. He's slipping in and out of you with minimal force, skin slapping together. He makes sure to let his moans roll off his tongue and into your mouth. You eat them up and give them back. The pair of you aren't kissing anymore, just gasping and humming into one another's mouths. He's stuttering.

There's a pause as he adjusts his grip, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of your thighs. He likes it, the way you seem to melt around him in all capacities. His lips nudge against yours as his steady hips begin to rock into yours again.

You groan as he pushes down on your legs, pushing you as far apart as your bones allow. It's typical of him, seeing how far he can take things. Push them to the limit. Always gets him in trouble. There's a click, as air escapes from the socket where your leg meets your pelvis.

"You good?" He checks and you respond with a kiss. Hands tangled in his hair, you hope it conveys the fact you've never felt better. He laughs a little, soft and serene, into your mouth, the weight of his body keeping you trapped beneath him.

You're morbid in your thoughts, and consider how nice it would be for Jungkook to suffocate you like this; steal you of the air you breathe with his tiny giggles of satisfaction. So, so nice, you think.

And so you tell him. You tell him that you want his hand on your throat. He takes a second to respond - not because he doesn't want to, but more so because he can't believe you actually asked.

He doesn't normally fuck the girls he cares about like this. Then again, he never really cares about the girls he fucks.

"God," you moan as he pushes one of your legs over his shoulder. His body is clammy against yours, skin hot and damp, chest lean but built. He's working hard; not just for his release. For yours too. Rams into you, stuffing your cunt with his cock, dipping his head to lather your clasped throat in wet kisses.

"That's it, sugar," he growls as his teeth graze your neck. "Need to hear how good you feel. Need to hear what my cock does to you. You owe me."

You want to laugh. You're about to laugh. But then his head dips down to your chest, and he latches onto one of your pebbled nipples, sucking so hard that all you can do is tremble. He knows you like this. Knows it makes your pussy all creamy and slippery for him - and like clockwork, he's proven right. The sounds are lewd. He loves it.

"On your back," you husk, punctuating your instruction with a whimper as he suckles even harder. He shakes his head, eyes closed, mouth vibrating and full of your tit. Not a chance, he tries to say, but it just sounds likes he's forgotten how to speak. Too busy. Too close to spilling himself into you. Doesn't wanna get distracted.

So focused, he doesn't realise you're pushing him over until you're on top. He frowns as he detaches from your nipple with a pop, but his hands are running all over your body regardless. Obviously doesn't care that much. Course he doesn't. That ache in his chest has settled.

Until he starts thinking about it, and oh god, it's back and it's fucking unbearable.

"C'mere," he pulls you flush against him, as your hips begin to work against him. His hands cradle your face so he can kiss you as deeply as he likes, tongue slipping into your mouth, as his cock slips up and down your pussy. This, he thinks, is it. This is what fucking should feel like.

"Shit," he whispers. "Shit."

The friction of his surprisingly neat hair that rests at the base of his cock is nice. Real fuckin' nice. You're not even fucking him anymore, just grinding against it. Using it, using him, to get yourself off.

You think you're being slick, like he won't notice - but he does. Of course, he does. He's obsessed with your body.

"God, yeah, baby," his back arches, pressing his chest against yours, eyes closed. "Use me like that. Use me," he bites into your shoulder gently. "Fucking use me."

He means it. Doesn't give a shit about himself anymore. Just wants to feel you tremble as he holds you close. Wants to press kisses against your lips as your moans become undignified. He needs to be the reason you cum; needs to be responsible for your oxytocin rush.

You sit up a little, and Jungkook holds back a pout from the separation - but how can he complain when you're sat like that, his cock buried inside of you, hair a mess and with eyes like his favourite constellation? He's hypnotised as your boobs begin to bounce, pussy working up his shaft like the true Daerim woman of the night you are. He's forgotten about all of that, now. Can't think about anything except for how to not fucking cum.

He can't and he won't. Not until you do. But you're bouncing, and it's wet, and he can hear it, and it feels so fuckin' good. His toes are curling, torso tensing, eyes half-shut, pretty little pout hanging open. He's fucking whining. "Yeah like that," he encourages. "Gonna milk me so well, baby. Gonna... ah. Fuck. Gonna-"

Jungkook can't fucking speak. He wants to. Wants to tell you how fucking beautiful you look, how he wants this endlessly, how he never wants to let you go. Needs to tell you how right this feels, how good you make him feel, how he doesn't understand his feelings but fuck, just that he is feeling. Feeling so much.

You're not sure at which point he started calling you baby, but you're actually convinced that the name alone could tip you over the edge.

The pace of your hips is slowly, savouring. He doesn't quite get it. You were so close. Why stop?

The stillness of your movements makes way for something new. He feels a throb around his fat cock, which is begging for release. Notices the way your chest is shaking like you've got hiccups, tiny whines of pleasure making themselves known. Your pussy was always warm, but it's hot now, contracting around him.

And then he gets it.

"Oh, shit," he mewls, his hips slowly pumping upwards. "Yeah, that's it, baby. Let yourself cum. All over my dick," he encourages, hedonistic and self-serving. "That's it. Cream for me."

His slow movements as he fucks up into you amplify the sensation, the tip of his cock nudging languidly against your tight walls. Your entire body shudders, the feeling rippling from your chest right down to your toes. You rasp out moans, the sensation all too powerful, a creamy mess pooling at the base of his shaft. There's a jerk as your muscles spasm, your orgasm well and truly delivered. He pulls you down and into his chest, his strong arms wrapped around your back.

Your body rests on his, spent and sensitive, and he can tell you can't hold out for much longer. He pushes back the hair that's sticking to your clammy face, and presses kisses into your temple.

"So big," you hum, voice hazy, eyes shut.

"Just a little more, baby," he promises. " You're doing so well. Just a little..."

You've considered how Jungkook would orgasm on more than one occasion - and you're pleasantly surprised to find that your imagination was wrong. There's no grand declaration, nor large grunt. He's not aggressive, either, like you'd half-hoped he would be.

Instead, Jungkook kisses you as his hips begin to stall. His brows are creased, moans muffled against your lips. His torso shudders, abdomen as tight as his balls. "Baby," he drowsily mewls, and then it's happening. His cock pumps into you, unloading thick creamy spurts with every stroke of your pussy. The first one is so desperate that you're almost positive you can feel it paint your insides. You moan along with him, utterly obsessed with this, him, whatever the fuck just happened.

He doesn't withdraw immediately. Just lays there and kisses your skin, absolutely spent.

You don't move a muscle. You don't want it to be over. Don't wanna lose this. Lose him.

When you tilt your head to look at him, he's smiling. Eyes closed, cheeks appled. Serene. In a state of fucked-out bliss.

You tell him that he's pretty, and he lets out an airy laugh, covering his face with one of his hands. You move his hand and watch him fondly, enthralled with the grin that he's struggling to fight.

He turns to look at you, and the smile he's been boasting amplifies. "God, you're gorgeous."

It's not a new observation; just one he's never voiced before. One that he was able to resist saying. But you're naked now, chest pillowed against his, eyes glowing and nose blushed.

You hum, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. "I'm glad you chose to come here."

Just like that, there's a knot in Jungkook's stomach that seems to anchor that feeling he keeps having.

"Yeah," he nods. "Me too."

IT'S THREE IN the afternoon by the time you wake from your post-fuck snooze. Jungkook's never had one of those before. Hated being sticky after sex with anyone else. Always had to shower - but with you, he wants to stick to you like glue.

"Should have filmed that," he hums, the tips of his fingers stroking up your arms. You aren't sure if he's joking or not. "Would have given us a unique take on the project. Probably wouldn't have gotten us very high grades, mind you, but art is subjective."

"Some would argue that the critique of art is objective," you muse back, still blissfully cum-drunk from the events prior to your nap. Jungkook's nose has stopped bleeding, and the pair of you have almost forgotten the reason he showed up in the first place. "Documentary maker by night, porn star by day," you flirt. "Although it's cute that you think you fuck like a porn star."

"I felt you shaking," he says, knowing there's no possible way that you didn't enjoy it. His nose feels a little cold after all the trauma of the morning, so he buries it into your hair. "Can't fake that."

"That's what I'm saying," you simper, pressing a kiss against his bare torso, just below the meeting of his collarbones. And then another, simply for good measure. "Porn stars never actually look like they're making the woman feel any good." You trail down his chest, tongue licking gently at the darker skin around his nipple. "You... yeah you don't fuck like a porn star." And then you suck a little. He hisses, in the best possible way. 

"Don't," he says. "Not ready to go again."

You laugh. 

Jungkook thinks he's reached Nirvana. Almost certain, in fact. Never had a girl do that to him before. He loves to give it, but hasn't ever thought to receive it. Wonders what other things you'll do to him that he's never had done before. He can feel his cock fucking twitching again, achy and sore, definitely not recovered yet from how hard he went earlier - but god, he wants it. Wants to bury himself inside you again. Belong to you.

His hands paw at you, one gripping on your chest, the other on your ass, pulling you closer. Your leg hooks over him, and he can feel how wet you still are on the side of his thigh. His balls fucking tighten. He can feel it happening, blood rushing to his crotch. 

Yet despite it all, he just kisses you. Softly. Tenderly. Merely his lips languid between yours. Withdraws slowly. Keeps his eyes closed. Bliss.

"The fuck have you done to me, sugar?" he whispers, dark eyes opening to look into yours. His speech is husky, like he trying to steal the answers of a pop-quiz from you. You can't help him. You don't have a clue what the answer is. You're just as stuck as he is. "Got me feeling all fuzzy 'n' shit."

"Just a sugar rush," you smile. "It'll pass."

You're both acutely aware that it won't, but that will be a problem for another day.

"Tell you what," Jungkook muses, though his thoughts are shallow. He's not digging deep. Just talking for the sake of it. "I might not fuck like a porn star, but you don't fuck like a hooker." 

He pulls your arm up so that he can study the crease of your elbow. You let him move your body like you're a barbie doll. You'll be his toy, you think, if he wants. No bother. 

His fingers press at the thin skin that covers your veins, inspecting. 

"Not a scratch," he assesses. "So you're not an addict either."

You laugh, slightly amused. "No? Maybe I just don't inject."

Jungkook gives you a stern look. Hopes you're joking. Tells you that you better fucking be joking. The sweetness of your laughter tells him that you are.

"So?" you press. "I'm not a prostitute and I'm not an addict. It's your lucky day. What of it?"

Jungkook tilts his head down so that his nose is nestled into the crown of your head again. Comforting, he thinks. Smells like laundry. You must have washed your sheets recently. 

His next statement takes you off guard. 

"Only ever see three kinds of women down in Daerim." 

And you know.

You know he knows. 

You can feel it in the way he protectively presses his lips into your skull, as if he's Prince Charming trying to rid his Sleeping Beauty of the nightmare she's been living. Wake up.

But Prince Charming rides a white horse, not a petrol-spitting, air-cooled, steel-framed shadow that rips through the city at night. 

There are no nightmares, either. You're already wide awake. There's no saving you. 

He sighs against your head. Pauses. Resists, and then confronts. 

"I know what you do in the dark, sugar."

You don't say anything for a moment, and then you're pulling away from him, reaching for your shirt. He doesn't like this. Misses your warmth, but doesn't stop you. Instead, he follows, sitting on the edge of your bed, the corner of your comforter lazily protecting his modesty. His muscles are relaxed now, a little crease in his stomach from the way that he's slouching, hands in his lap. Those Bambi eyes of his are peaking through his hair, cheeks red and grazed from the morning encounter he'd had in Daerim.

He watches as you pull your shirt over your head, hair just as messy as his, and a graze on your cheek to match. He was pretty certain before that it had been carpet burn, but now that he's seen it up close, softly rubbed his thumb against it during pretty kisses, he's sure of it.

You avert his gaze. Feel shameful. Hate that he knows. You never cared before. It was just a fun little secret, the fact that he didn't know you were no angel. 

But you want him to think that you're one, now. 

For a moment, you were sure that he had. 

Instead, now, it feels like you're falling from grace.

He reaches for your hand, but you pull it back. "Please don't."

And so he doesn't. Just sits for a little while instead. "Do you want me to get dressed?"

You really don't. 

But your tongue is lodged in your mouth and it won't budge. You turn away, internally furious with yourself. It's been a while since you've gotten like this; so dreadfully panicked that you can't talk. It's a once in a blue moon kind of thing, the early onset of a panic attack, but you're hoping it won't reach the stage of no return. Praying.

"Babe?"

He sounds worried now, and it's making it worse. Feels like you've just reached the top of Bukhan Mountain without taking a second to catch your breath. 

Has your chest always been this tight? Or has someone just been wrapping rubber bands around your torso without you noticing? 

It isn't possible, and you know this, but it feels like it and - oh God - you can hear him shuffling, the buckle of his belt clanging. He's leaving, he's leaving, he's leaving, your ribs cackle as they close down on your lungs. 

There's a light hum behind you, like a wasp is coming to send you into a state of anaphylactic shock and then it stops. His jeans are tossed to the floor once more.

"Yoongi?" Jungkook speaks quietly behind you into the receiver of his phone. "Wassu- Yeah, yeah, I'm safe. I'm good."

I'm safe. 

I'm good.

"Where are- Yoongi stop. Stop it. I'm being deadly fucking serious-"

You don't realise it, but your chest begins to mellow as you listen in to his conversation. 

"It's my mess!" He shouts now. "I'll fucking fix it. I don't give a fuck what Hobi says. Where you at? The Zoo? I'll be there- Yes, I will. Don't do anything fucking stupid."

And then he hangs up, chucking his phone into your bed with more aggression than he'd ever wanted to show in your presence. You don't see it, back still turned, but you hear it, the way his phone rebounds against the springs of your mattress.

"Shit," he hisses, and when you turn to face him, you find that his head is in his hands, elbows on his knees.

Crouching by him, your chest expands. You don't give a shit about yourself anymore. Your palms rest just behind his elbows, eyes anchored below his, looking up. 

"He's got his fucking final in an hour," is all Jungkook says. "He's gonna miss his fucking final."

He lifts his head, tender lips pouted, eyes bloodshot from the pressure he's been placing on his palms. Looks right at you. Decides he'll never trust another pair of eyes more.

"I know what you do in the dark, sugar," he relays. "But I do worse. So much fucking worse. And I've just gone and fucked it all up."

And while he blames it all on himself, you know it's your fault. 

He didn't stay away from the girl. He tempted fate, tugged on the red string, and accidentally snapped it.

Forlorn, he slumps, tongue wetting his bottom lip as he bites down on it. It's only to stop it from trembling. Clouds lurk in his eyes, trying to block his vulnerabilities from you, but it doesn't take a genius to work out that he's scared. 

"Take it," you say, lips in a flat line, eyes stern. You nod towards the pile of cash on your desk, and his eyes follow. "Take it. Pay your debts. I can earn it again. I don't have a deadline. You do."

He shakes his head.

"I'm not taking the money you've earned."

"Yes, you are."

"I'm not," he protests and you've got it in your right mind to slap his pretty face silly. "Gonna be totally honest," he adds, "Don't really want your sugar baby money. Kinda resent it a little. Resent the fucker who gave it to you."

Jungkook hates him. 

Doesn't know him.

Loathes him.

"So then give him the middle finger and take it," you plead. "He got you fucked up into this mess, he got you jumped, he got your stash stolen. Take his money and get yourself and Yoongi out of it. You don't have time to be fucking arguing with me."

He wants to fight back. You stop him.

"We can argue later," you promise.

And that ever-present effervescent feeling is back in his chest. 

"Sugar," he speaks quietly. "Don't do this."

"Kook," you respond, voice much firmer than his. "You gotta do this. Yoongi shouldn't be fixing your mistakes and you know it. We can work it out on an I.O.U. basis. It's okay."

"I.O.U. suggests I'm gonna keep seeing you for a while," Jungkook mumbles. He isn't feeling as confident in himself as he had done earlier. 

You stand, offering your hand to him so that you can pull him up with you. Neither of you acknowledge the fact that he's stark bollock naked. It's really not the time. Nothing you haven't seen before, after all.

"Well, yeah," you shrug with a straight face, but there's a glint in your eye. "I'd hope so. Pretty sure you said you were fuck my tits later? Gotta hold up your end of the bargain, sugar."

And despite it all, he laughs, toying with your hands before slipping his finger between yours. "Don't call me that."

"Why not?" You squeeze his hands. "You're technically my sugar baby now."

"That's not how it works."

God, he knows he shouldn't be fucking about, wasting time flirting, but he just can't help himself.

"No?" You question, equally distracted.

"No," he says. "If you're paying me, and I'm fucking you, then that makes me a hooker."

He's not wrong. 

"Oh, that's kinda hot," you smile, pulling gently on his hands to encourage him to lean down. He does as he's told, and kisses you like it's the most natural thing in the world.

"You're so fucked up," he whispers against you, knowing that it's exactly why he enjoys you so much.

You don't let the moment linger, though, tossing him his clothes and going to grab the money while he dresses himself. You stack it together, all nice and neat, using the desk to straighten the edges. The wedge is thick in your hands. Yellow 50's are laughing at you. Stupid girl thought we'd fix her problems, they chatter silently to one another.

"Three and half million won," you hold it out to Jungkook. He hesitates, so you force his grip around it and let go. It's his problem, now. Not yours. You smile so warmly that Jungkook can't help but let that feeling in his chest simmer. Your hair is still messy, mascara still smudged. He wants to kiss your cheeks. 

Jungkook hasn't disclosed what exactly was in his bag.

But in the same way he knows there are only three types of women in Daerim, you know there are equally only three types of men.

There's only one demographic that he belongs to. Yoongi, too. 

You don't say it explicitly, not like he does. 

"Holangi are nasty fuckers," you acknowledge. "I know they raise the stakes just for the fun of it. Whatever got stolen, the street value doesn't matter. Take it all. You'll need it."

Take what I owe you.

When he kisses you goodbye, it's just like the first time; all breathy and needy, lips parted and pouting. Again and again, he presses down into your lips. His brows furrow, hands on your cheeks, chest pressed against yours.

The crimson paint that had stained you from his very first kiss returns. You're painted in red for the second time that morning, but this time only you can see it. Only you can feel it.

That's her. That's the girl who let Jeon Jungkook kiss her like he actually meant it. 

But it's funny now, because you know that he does mean it.

When he finally leaves, his nose is blushed, his cupids bow too. Eyes glassy. Smile forlorn.  

Disappointingly, as you close the door of your apartment when he's no longer in your line of sight, you remember exactly how Jungkook had kissed you for the first time:

Like it was going to be the last.

And it consumes you, because the kiss you just shared felt exactly the same.

Your chest is uncomfortable again, but it's not rubber bands this time. 

It's that stupid red string that Jungkook had tugged too tightly on.

The one that he'd snapped right in half. 

WATTPAD // AO3 // KO-FI // CARRD

[lnfours]

number one boy | l.n

summary: racing is difficult, especially this weekend in qatar. but luckily for lando. he has you as his number one supporter.

warnings: a little bit of angsty/sad!lando, fluff, language, his radio after he crossed the line in qualifying makes me sob.

masterlist | ask box

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

you made your way through the halls, trying to ignore how the sadness and anger in the air of the mclaren garage made your emotions ten times worse. your feet carried you to the familiar area, knocking on the door before peeking your head in.

lando was sat on the couch, head in his hands. he groaned soflty, clearly annoyed, “i said i was fine-“

his head snapped up and met your gaze. you wanted to cry looking at him, a few stray tears rolling down his cheeks. you couldn’t tell if it was from anger or sadness, but with the way today had gone, you wouldn’t be surprised if it was a mix of both.

he swallowed the lump in his throat, “sorry, thought you were someone else.”

you joined him on the couch, shaking your head, “‘s okay,” you grabbed his hands, “would i be right if i assumed that ‘sorry’ was the last word you wanted to hear right now?”

he nodded back at you, letting out a soft sniffle, “yeah, you’d be right.”

he knew you felt bad for him with the look in your eyes. the way they tried to read his, searching for which emotion he was feeling in that moment. and to be honest, you couldn’t put a finger on it because of how much of a whirlwind he felt. a mix of sadness and anger, with a little bit of disappointment and embarrassment within himself.

overall, he just felt like shit.

you reached over, wiping the stray tear from the stubble on his jaw. the stubble you had grown to be a fan of over the last couple weeks. he let out a sigh, “i just am shit. like i’m honestly so shit sometimes. what the fuck is wrong with me?”

his head fell back into his hands. you poked at his ribs gently, “hey, that’s my man you’re talking about.”

he snorted, “yeah, your man sucks,”

“i think your almost seven million instagram followers and i will have to disagree,” you smiled softly, “plus, you’re sexy. so, you’ve got that going for you, too.”

he let out a laugh, a smile breaking out onto your face as you laughed too, cupping his cheek, “there he is! i got him back!”

he looked over at you and you continued, “you’re my number one boy, on and off the track, y’know? podium or not, you’re still my favorite.”

he pressed a gentle kiss to your palm as he nodded, “i know,”

you smiled, “good,”

he reached over and grabbed at you, pulling you to sit on his lap. you wrapped your arms around his neck, legs straddling his as you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck.

“thank you,” he mumbled softly, pressing a kiss to the skin underneath your ear.

“you never have to thank me,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “i’ll always be here to remind you.”

he hummed contently, thanking his stars that he met you and grew the guts to ask for your number that night in monaco, “i love you.”

“i love you most,” he was used to you saying ‘most’ or ‘more’ every time, but right now it made his heart clench as he pulled you closer, “always.”

[moominsuki]

really fond of the fact that bakugou is really confident about himself as a hero and a man - he’s at his prime of 24-27 and his body is jacked, like he’s an adonis of a man and he’s objectively hot, all that jazz. bakugou doesn’t really think of his body in that regard: he works out but it’s for the job and he likes the general aesthetics of his body and thinks his scars are kinda cool. and they are!! very cool!! his friends think it makes him look scary (adds to his scary character which they like though :})but he likes the edgy look. a shrewd reporter once tried to insinuate that his scars were boorish and large and he shrugged them off with a snarl and the weight of his body. so yeah, he’s not insecure. not really.

it’s not until he’s interested in you does he start second guessing his physical appearance; the scar across his face looks larger, his hands suddenly feel more rough despite his quirk and he swears the blotchy cicatrix on his chest looks way worse than it did. you’ve even got him flexing in his bathroom mirror, ignoring the highlights of his muscles and fixating on what he’d now call ‘disfigurements.’

the crazy thing is, you don’t even care about any of the blemishes!! and not even getting into the fact that he’s practically blind to the way you salivate over him (that’s a whole other bridge to cross) but one day he unknowingly brings up how big the scar is across his nose, chastising it while you’re both talking by the photocopier, “if i knew the fuckin’ guy was gonna get me across the face, i woulda jumped out the damn way.”

you look at him slightly confused by his tone, eyes wide. “well, i like the scar. makes you look tough.”

“tough.” bakugou repeats, and you double down, nodding.

“nothing wrong with tough. girls - well i like tough. i mean, it’s not a bad thing! it’s kinda sexy on guys. also because you’re a pro hero. it tells a story, y’know?… it makes your face, you.”

bakugou nods slowly at that, touching his face again, your words resonating with him throughout the day. and the next. and the day after the next. and he thinks it’s so silly how worked up he gets over your off handed comment but what you think matters (much to his heart’s chagrin).

he’s so shy and so gruff at the same time. terrible romantic which is why he needs you to tell him how gorgeous he is: even though he appreciates his good looks and even though what people think shouldn’t matter but it’s different with you.

just imagining a shy, gruff twenty-something bakugou blushing at your not-so compliments is soooo incredibly heart wrenching. just imagining.

[honeybleed]

— ★ TRYNA THREEWAY WITH HIS ROOMIE // JEAN KIRSTEIN & CONNIE SPRINGER

content & warnings: fem!reader, reader is kinda ditzy bimbo x sunshine, modern au, reader, jean and connie are all in their mid twenties, jean and connie are roommates, reader is in an established relationship with jean but connie has a crush on her, porn no plot, smut mdni (breastplay, groping, oral. f & m receiving, piv protected sex — backshots from connie lawl, cum swallowing, degradation — connie n jean both kinda mean calling reader a whore n slut but not overboard, they both compete during it) look at them 😵‍💫

author’s note: fine, i’ll do it myself cos some of yall forgot jean and connie are best friends! also this is just kinda smutty so not my best work 🚶🏽‍♂️ also dis was inspired by a tiktok edit of connie n jean to paper soldier by brent faiyaz but i lost it 😔😔

word count: 2.4k

“Oi, oi, where are you going?” Jean asked, lips swollen and smeared in lipgloss as Connie got up from the couch.

“I’m tapping out for the night bro. I promise you I got better things to do than watch you eat your girl’s face off.” Connie replied in a wry tone.

Saturday nights were always movie nights for Jean and Connie. Well, it was originally Jean, Connie and Sasha but Sasha moved in with her boyfriend.

Ever since you and Jean began to date, they were always cut short since Jean just could not for the life of him keep his hands to himself if you were in the same vicinity as him.

Connie thought you were a good match for Jean.

Jean had a stick up his ass the majority of the time, but when you swooped in the perpetual scowl etched into his features gradually faded away.

And there was no denying you were sexy.

He had pangs of guilt when he bumped into you in the kitchen Sunday mornings, Jean fast asleep and you were at the coffee machine.

It was out of his control, the way his mouth went dry and his cock twitched at your ass and hard nipples peeking through one of Jean’s baggy shirts that draped to your knees, but managed to settle just above the curve of your backside.

It was just difficult not to stare. He settled on trying to be cold and distant but when you said as a passing comment to Jean you thought Connie didn’t like you, he nearly kicked his ass.

“You make my girl upset and I’ll break your jaw.” Jean hissed.

“Jeez, I got it!” Connie grumbled, rolling his eyes as his thumbs whirled over the joysticks of the controller. He knew Jean could do that but he never took him seriously.

“I’m being serious, Con. She was real torn up about it.” Jean said sternly.

Connie was getting sick of Jean. He let out a sigh as he paused the game to turn to face his best friend.

“Hypothetically speaking, why is it such a big deal if I didn’t like her? Huh?”

Jean groaned.

“She’s a little sensitive. But that’s just how I like her alright? How’d you feel if I was being a dick to your girl?” Jean responded, scowling.

Connie pursed his lips together. Jean did have a point.

Back to current events, he eyed you as you were perched on Jean’s thigh.

“You jealous, Connie?~” You teased in a sing-song as you ruffled Jean’s sandy brown tresses.

“He got a pretty girl and don’t know how to act no more.” He chuckled to himself. “Try n keep the noise down.”

“I’d let her fuck you, y’know.” Jean said with a smirk.

Connie’s jaw went slack, disbelieving what he had just heard right now.

“…Huh?”

“Well, yeah.” Jean shrugged. “My baby thinks you’re cute, and I’d let her do anything she wants. Right, honey?” Jean said airily, as he leaned in to bite your neck, causing you to jolt and giggle in his lap.

“Jean..!” You whined, sensitive to the graze of his sharp teeth.

“You’ve gotta be messing with me right now.” Connie said, struggling to keep composure as all his prior fantasies of you hit him like a truck.

“No, Con..”

Why do you say his name like that? Connie internally cried to himself. It wasn’t helping douse the flame of his attraction to you whatsoever.

“I think you’re a cutie pie. I wanna have some fun too, I think you’d both do a good job of spoiling me, huh?” You beamed, your hand on the nape of Jean’s neck as you raked your fingers through the ends of his mullet.

Jean dug the heel of his palm into your clothed core, eliciting a moan from you.

“See how sexy she sounds, Con?” Jean grinned wolfishly as he continued to apply pressure, making you squirm and involuntarily buck your hips into his hand, seeking more. “You wanna make her moan too?”

Connie was in a state of complete and utter disbelief. Regardless, his eyes glazed over as he nodded.

“That’s my guy.” Jean said triumphantly, within an instant, he threw you into the air and caught you bridal style, laughter overtaking your body as you draped your arms around Jean’s neck.

The dim light of the bedside table in Jean’s bedroom illuminated both of the men’s eyes.

You were just so damn gorgeous, they stood side by side as you looked at them coquettishly through your lashes.

You began to pull down the straps of your romper, sliding it off until it was around your waist.

Connie felt as if he died and gone to heaven when he gaped at your bare chest.

“Which one of you wanna start..?” You questioned, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, thrilled at the idea of both of them about to treat you.

Jean patted Connie’s back.

“Go on. Make my princess moan, hm?” He chuckled, as he began to tug his navy blue shirt over his head and tossed it across the room, revealing his lithe and toned figure.

Connie’s tongue dragged over his lips as he fully took in your appearance.

It wasn’t as if Connie was some inexperienced virgin with no play. It was just an uncanny situation.

Jean and you were so eager to do this, he felt as if there had to be some sort of catch.

“Hi handsome…” You cooed as Connie got on his knees on the carpet of the bedroom, between your legs, you gently smoothed his head and rested your hand on the nape of his neck. “Strip for me?”

He nodded, instantly discarding his shirt and shrugging out of his shorts until he was in his boxers.

“Ah, so there is a bit of muscle here?” You smiled as your palm slid down Connie’s broad chest. You raked your nails across his skin, earning a soft grunt from him.

“Not as good as mine though, huh babe?” Jean chuckled.

“Shut. Up.” Connie said through gritted teeth, then turned his attention back to you.

Testing the waters, Connie settled his hands on the bare skin of your hips, it wasn’t some sort of wet dream. This was reality, so he gripped your flesh, as his brown eyes took you in.

You were gazing at him so fondly, his heart was racing and the tips of his ears went red.

“Just do what comes naturally, okay?” You reassured him as you stroked the back of his neck again.

“…Okay, Y/N.”

Connie fluttered his eyes shut as he began to gently peck upwards along your soft stomach.

You let out a content sigh.

“Con…” You breathed out, revelling in his soft touch. It spurred him on, and Connie felt accomplished that something small already made you so reactive.

Jean grinned as he leaned in, standing next to the bed to press his lips against your neck, his hand wandering down your body to cup your breast, rolling your nipples between his fingers.

“Keep goin’ Con, she’s liking it.” Jean chuckled as you mewled and scrunched your eyes shut.

Connie nodded and latched his mouth onto the other breast, flicking your nipple with the tip of his tongue as his hands still gripped your hips.

He felt more bold now, and he yanked the romper off completely.

“No panties?” Connie chuckled darkly, as he licked his lips at the sight of your pussy, slightly slimy from your arousal from both of their ministrations. “Who knew your girl was so dirty?”

“Why do you think I’m all over her?” Jean responded as he wrapped his large hand around your throat, his thumb and forefinger gripping your jaw. “You’re such a little slut, aren’t you honey?”

You nodded, mind dazed from the pleasure and dirty words.

“Mhm, yes…I’m a slut.” You mustered out.

Connie felt a bit more eased in, his apprehension and frigidness fading away.

He looked up at you with a grin, big brown eyes sparkling with excitement as he spread your legs apart, giving your inner thighs a gentle lick and kissing them.

“Please…” You whimpered.

Jean grinned against your neck.

“Please, what, baby? You want us to keep going?" He took one of your earlobes between his teeth and tugged gently. “Tell us what you want."

“Want you both…make me feel good.” You breathed out shakily.

“You heard her, Jean.” Connie grinned.

Connie was in his element. He loved going down on a girl. He was smiling from ear to ear as he was given a front view of your slick folds.

His breath fanned over your wet heat, and your eyebrows furrowed together in impatience.

“Stop teasin’!” You whined.

“Jean, is she always this impatient?” Connie snorted, amused by how desperate you were.

“It’s cute..” Jean shook his head laughing. “But yeah, my princess is pretty spoilt.”

Connie delved in between your legs, his tongue flicking over your clit eagerly, weaving expertly within the crevices of your wet flesh.

Your moans only spurred him on even more, he latched on and sucked harshly. Connie grinned deviously at the sound of your desperate pleas.

He teased you more before leaning down to lavishly kiss and lick between your thighs.

Jean still palming and kneading your breasts, sliding his large hands along your sides pinching your nipples as he worked to fulfil you.

Connie’s tongue played along your folds, circling your clit a few times, he was overjoyed with the way your body reacted to his every touch and tease.

“Don’t forget about me, baby.” Jean murmured as he tilted your head up to meet your lips hungrily, moving against you as he sucked your lower lip.

Pleasure circulated through your veins as the two men were consumed with satisfying you.

“Con…” You groaned as you felt your high approach you. “S’close.”

Connie grinned and quickened his movements, licking and sucking on your clit, sending waves of ecstasy throughout your body.

"Just let go, princess," He whispered against you, his tongue and lips still working away. "We've got you."

Your voice was hoarse as you sobbed, and your hips bucked violently. Body shuddering as a stream of clear liquid gushed into Connie’s mouth.

“That’s it, there we go…” Jean grinned triumphantly as he felt your body go limp in his arms.

He continued to lick and suck at your sensitive spots, drawing out every last drop of your orgasm.

“Let it all out for me." Connie murmured encouragingly.

“Alright, alright. Get to the back.” Jean chuckled. “How sweet does she taste?”

Connie stood up from his knees, savoring your essence.

“Nothing like it.” He chuckled as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

You and Jean shared a look, and you immediately despite being shaky from the intense orgasm, got on all fours on the mattress.

Jean crouched to cup the side of your face as he pecked your lips.

“Eyes on me, baby. Remember who you belong to.”

“I know, Jean…” You mumbled.

“Good girl..” He smiled as he kissed you once more. “You’re doin’ so well. Isn’t she, Con?”

Connie nodded, as he fumbled for a condom and rolled it over his length throbbing.

“The best.”

Connie trailed kisses down your back, stopping at the small of your back causing you to shiver.

Pulling down his boxers, his hardening cock springing free Jean stroked himself a few times.

“You ready for us, angel?” Jean whispered huskily.

“Yes, I want you both.”

“Course you do, you little whore.” Connie cackled as he smacked your ass, biting his lip at the recoil.

Your eyes met Jean’s as you fisted his girthy cock, your thumb rubbing and giving kitten licks to the sensitive skin earning a guttural groan right from his chest.

You almost paused as from behind, you felt Connie teasingly rub his latex-covered length along your slit.

“F-fuck! CONNIE!” You gasped out, pussy still sensitive from his mouth earlier.

“Shit, Con..” Jean chuckled, voice strained as he felt your breath on his slit. “You’re behind and she’s still calling your name.”

“Guess I’m her fave.” Connie smirked as he finally slid into your warm, wet walls.

“Y-you wish.” You mustered out, but you couldn’t deny Connie had surprised you.

You took Jean into your mouth and his fingers tangled in your hair.

“Shit, princess…” Jean heaved out as your tongue swirled around, making his cock slick with your saliva.

Connie began to move, his hips thrusting hard and fast, you were reduced to incoherent babbling.

“You like that, baby?" Connie growled hotly against your ear, wanting to one-up Jean. "You want more?"

“S’much more..!”

“You're so fucking sexy." He panted out between thrusts.

Jean moaned softly as you sucked him off, his fingers tangling violently in your hair.

Connie grunted as he continued to thrust into you, his hands leaving bruises on your hips.

"Fuck, angel," Jean growled through gritted teeth. "You're so damn good at this. That mouth of yours."

Jean’s fingers gripped with each bob of your head. His eyes were dark with desire and he watched you hungrily as Connie fucked you relentlessly.

“Let me finish in that mouth, honey.” Jean stuttered, feeling his high approach him.

"I'm gonna cum. Swallow it, baby. Take it all." Jean’s teeth sinking into his lower lip as he reached his climax, his warm seed spilling into your waiting mouth.

He panted and stroked your cheek gently as he came down from his orgasm, his softening length sliding out of your mouth with a wet pop.

Without hesitation, you swallowed his cum. Jean gave a greasy smile as his thumb slipped past your lips, prying your jaw open.

“All gone, huh?” Jean grinned, admiring your tongue. “Such a dirty girl.”

You screwed your eyes shut as Connie drove deeper inside of you, your walls pulsating around him.

Your fists bunched up the sheets as Connie groaned.

The both of your moans blending simultaneously reached the peak of their pleasure, Connie spilling into the latex.

He gasped as Jean pulled you towards him, the loss of warmth making you whimper as Jean pulled you close onto him.

Your arms draped over Jean’s shoulders as you felt overwhelmed in a good way.

Jean began to kiss your temple and rubbed small circles into your back.

“Feel good, princess…?” Jean smiled as he stroked your cheek. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

You nodded, then turned to Connie with a lazy grin.

“But he was my fave.” You giggled, Jean pinching your hip.

“Hey!”

author’s note: showed connie a bit more love in this since i barely write for his ass & we have enough horse cock in this blog. if u reached this far tysm for reading, reblogs & interactions r always appreciated

[suguruplsr]

HANDS ON MY NECK WHILE U PUSH IT UP

✮ suguru’s girls master list

— x implied chubby fem! reader , roommates!, smut w/ no plot , fingering, clit play, cum play, finger sucking, unprotected, heavy choking kink (f & m) + breath play, manhandling, sugu lowkey a perv + use of pet names, not proofreading rn cuz i’m tired + i suck at writing orgasms <3

you weren’t going to get anywhere, not like this. you huff under your breath in frustration, moving the pillow covered in silk from between your thighs, disappointed in your constant failed orgasms, despite that the mere thought of the handsome dark haired man, just a door further down in your apartment, had you soiling your undies.

today, you decided to get your nails done differently, acrylic longer than usual with pink gems accentuating the pristine white nails. you just didn’t think of how much harder it would be to get your fingers inside your throbbing cunt, opting for riding a pillow with the few plushies on your bed turned away.

but that clearly didn’t work.

you can’t help it, you came home to your hot roommate strolling around the house with those gray sweats and a slutty compression shirt. suguru had probably come back from the gym around that time, body coated in a thick sheen of sweat with his hair pulled up into a high ponytail.

you tuck your bottom lip in your mouth, squirming from the pulse down there as the memory of your roommate plays in your mind.

your roommate!

never mind that it’s the dead of night, you can just ask him to help you out. hopping out of bed, you unlock your bedroom door, stepping out into the hallway and immediately smelling a light scent of weed. mindlessly, you walk down towards the room not too far away from yours, seeing dim light peeking from the spaces of the door.

just as you go to knock, you hear a gruff, “come in.” cursing him

for sensing you, somehow. maybe you were a bit loud, eager even. you step inside suguru’s little cove. posters of bands littered the walls, and you can see an electric guitar in the corner of the room. then, low and behold, you see the long haired man on his phone, sitting against his headboard with an ashtray on the dresser beside him.

he must’ve put out his blunt once he heard you, considering the flavored odor strolling around the room. seeing you curiously look around, suguru chuckles, “came here to explore or..?” you shake your head, beginning to feel bashful, “sorry — just wanted to.. ask for some help..”

your confidence lowers from his clear amusement, his eyes having a tiny gleam full of trouble. “close the door f’me sweetheart, then you can tell me what’s on that mind of yours.” and you nod, trying to hype yourself up in your head. you can do it, just a one time thing. but his casual use of the pet name sent your body into a spiral. it just rolled off his tongue so perfectly, sexy enough to get you in his bed, and for all the right reasons.

suguru keeps his focus on the way your fat thighs expand once you’re in his bed, scooting closer to him and practically bathing in his husky aroma. “so..” “so…?” he cocks his head, a coy smile forming as his loose hair sways. biting your lip, your hands start to fidget, “so y’know how i got my nails done..”

“mhm”

“i’m uhm” you must be on some kind of heat, considering how turned on you are just from the low acknowledging hum that rumbled from suguru’s throat, an attractive perk he’s always had with his voice. “i’m having a hard time doing something.” you mutter, not catching the way a big hand darts to your face, making you look into his blown out eyes. “ah, keep your eyes on me pretty—“ but instinctively, you had still glanced away, blood burning around your body from how flustered he made you.

“nono, i said keep ‘em on me.” suguru tuts, the fingers holding your face beginning to get firm. “okay.. okay. this was such a bad idea..” you whisper, humiliated with your past self for even thinking of this. “well you’re not leaving until i hear it.” he shrugs, a hand going to your waist, respectfully high, and guiding you into the open space between his legs.

his bold actions, regularly, would have you recoiling away, but you’re too heated to think about it.

“can you finger me?” you blurt out. it was all or nothing. even if you wanted to kill yourself in about 500 ways from the heavy silence. “finger you, hm?” suguru quips, eyes drifting down from your face, shamelessly. and you try to ignore the fact that your perky nipples are practically staring at him, aching with each subtle movement that makes your silky t-shirt rub against them. “yea.. can’t do it with these..” you mumble, placing your hand on his chest, dragging it along the fabric of his wife beater, feeling defined abs under your fingers.

suguru grabs your wrist, and you think you’ve gotten all the tension wrong, but he’s soon kissing your fingers, a smirk playing on his lips. “oh i guess.. can’t ruin these huh?” he sighs, a faux tint of reluctance in his voice that you almost didn’t catch. you smile as his lips begin to trail near your nails, eyes adoring the decor with hopes to see them around his dick. but how else is he gonna get that dream-soon-to-be-true without a little work?

“well? what are you waiting for sweetheart. i want it all off — please?”

you find yourself naked on his lap, back laid against his bare chest with one of his thick fingers dipped inside your wetness. “she’s been neglected, hasn’t she? poor thing~” suguru coo’s, his head on your shoulder as you writhe in his hold, gasping at the feeling of your g-spot being pressed by the pad of his finger. “y-yea! so much..” you whine,

feeling his thumb reach up to roll around your clit.

“gonna make you feel so much better..” he sighs out, kissing your neck with his other hand grabbing your thigh, stopping you from clamping around his wrist because of how overstimulated you are. “but i can’t sugu, can’t think.” you whimper, hearing the wet squelches of your abused hole that kept giving him orgasm after orgasm, all from one finger.

“you can baby. promise you can. still gotta stretch you out hun.” you can hear the smile in his voice, biting your lip as another finger joins his, probably, pruned one. you jolt, digging your nails into his thighs to stable yourself as everything begins to feel more heavy. harder to take. his fingers move slowly in and out of you, periodically scissoring before smoothly pushing up against that spot in you that has your toes curling. “suguuu, m’gonna cum if you keep..” you gasp, but you can’t continue your words, dumbed out from the pleasure.

“that’s the point babe.” suguru gives a breathy chuckle, kissing the side of your neck and easing his fingers out of your cunny. like a switch from his previous words that you aren’t happy with. having the full feeling in you ripped away makes you frown, turning your head, “what’re you doing, i was—“ his hand moves quickly, holding the back of your neck and forcing you to watch as his goey fingers reach up to you, “shh, lick em’ up f’me sweetheart. promise i’ll make you cum~” suguru grins, his arm slowly snaking around you to grip your chin in place.

and you hesitate. you were never shy of getting a bit.. freaky. but seeing all of the cum coating his finger made you gag inside. “do i have to..” you cringe, voice meek as you divert your eyes away from the slightly nasty sight. but suguru kisses below your ear, humming disappointedly. “you shy baby? thought you liked disgusting shit like this. these walls aren’t thick.” and embarrassment burns through you, feeling his fingers open up your mouth.

“you’ll be fine, s’gonna be reaal quick.” he says in a smug tone, voice drawled and shoving his fingers inside your mouth. watching how your eyes immediately water in shock. you, despite your protests, suck off his fingers, tongue lolling around the muscles and swallowing as much as you could of the salty substance.

after suguru deems his fingers clean, he slowly pulls them out of your warm cavern, eyeing the nice and clean digits with pride filling his heart. “did so good f’me baby. c’mon..” his hands go to your waist, helping you turn, facing him and showing you his confident smirk. much to your dismay. “you’re so fucking dirty!” you slap his chest immediately, glaring up at him as he only laughs in response, a cocky grin on those pretty lips of his.

“still did it for me pretty. now lay down like the pretty princess you are.” he parted from you with a small kiss on the lips. patting your thigh as you moved over, still quite flushed after your hotly actions and watching him fully undress his lower body. unfortunately, you aren’t ashamed with the audible low moan that escaped your lips from just the sight of his cock that had slapped against his thigh.

suguru only gives you a knowing look, lips curled and eyes speaking the subtle condescending words that would’ve surely left him. “don’t even say anything.” you huff, clicking your tongue as he gets onto the bed. “wasn’t gonna.” he lies through his teeth, pushing you onto your back. “fuck, i didn’t think i’d ever get to see you like this..” suguru sighs out, raising your legs up onto his shoulders as he towers over you, something most guys wouldn’t do because of the thick flesh. but finally, you could sympathize with your friends how much of a turn on it is.

divine. the only word that could explain how you look right now, eyes blown out and lips puffy, one of your pretty hands flush against his chest as he rubs his dick along your folds. your neck, so beautiful and sexy to him. just in need of a nice strong hand to squeeze it until you’re heaving with your eyes rolling back. but suguru has to remind himself to not let his perverse and disgusting thoughts go wild, settling for what he can get.

“can i choke you? — i know that was so random but i really just..” suguru trails off, watching how your expression didn’t seem to diminish, not a single drop of hesitation in your eyes. “what are you waiting for? i’ve been high n’ dry sugu~ i’ll take anything you give me.” you sing, copying his earlier words and suguru swears you might’ve dug yours and his grave, a hand holding your waist still while he guides his cock inside your hole.

“really? sorry baby.” he glances up at you as his tip dips into your pussy. “g-gonna make it up to ya.” both of your breaths hitch as his cock begins to fill you, your hands flying to his arms. and suguru loves the expression on your face, lip bitten with your eyes watering. so fucking cute.

and so fucking hard to not fuck the living shit out of you.

“keep goin’ sugu. want it all.” you mewl, grazing your nails along his arm before letting it fall to your entrance. you holding his dick for a bit, gripping it firmly and then going to your folds. suguru groans, watching how your fingers spread them in a v-shape, glistening with your wetness.

suguru suddenly pushes all the way in, your body unable to comprehend the pure shock of pleasure because he immediately goes down on you. “oh my good– suguru!” his arm pins beside your head, the other sitting between your breasts while his hand darts to your neck. “fuck this. god, you tightened up so quickly. gotta relax baby..” and you curse him in your mind, unable to respond as his fingers encase your throat.

but it’s so hard to relax when he’s looking down at you, hair draped around his body, pretty bronze eyes shining under his lamp glow, his breath heavy. undoubtedly just as worked up as you are. suguru leans down, easing his tight hand a bit, but directing you to meet his lips. “c’mon baby, can’t move like this.” he sighs against your lips, eating up your whimpers like it’s nothing and squeezing your throat lightly.

for some reason, your pussy throbs around him, the way he manhandles you makes you feel so little underneath him. like a pillow princess bending to his will.

“felt that baby.” he whispers, cock his head to the side. his bang doing well to hide the little smirk playing in his lips. “just move.” you say, breathless and needing that ache inside you to be gone. “whatever she wants~” he grins, almost dangerously as his hips begin to fuck up into you, cock gliding in you a little more easier than before.

“sugu..” a broken moan leaves you as his hand grips your neck more firmly, not letting you get any reprieve. suguru smiles, tip bruising your insides, focusing on the sound of the squelching of your wetness on his cock. every time his hips dip down, cock filling you up to the hilt, it makes your mind go haywire, holding onto his biceps while spots slowly cloud your vision.

“s’fuckin’ amazing princess.” suguru pants, picking up his pace and beginning to grit his teeth from the feeling of your gummy wall’s clamping down on him. watching the way your eyes close, tight, and hands desperately moving along his arm, trying to stabilize yourself. but you can’t, not with those damn nails —

the reason why he’s getting a taste of your pussy in the first place.

“hah– c-can’t — i’m gonna..” you can’t breathe, eyes rolling back and lips parting. yet you find yourself, concerningly, liking this. because the sharp thrusts of his cock make it all the more better, sending you to cloud nine. “y’know i hate it when you say that baby. cuz you can.” through your blurry eyes, you see suguru giving you a mocking pout, hips angling just enough to make your legs shake.

then, his fingers let go for just a short moment, long enough for you to gain some oxygen, but that doesn’t last long as suguru kisses you, stealing your regained breath with his thumb running along your throat soothingly. as his fragrance keeps your senses heightened, you feel the familiar coil in your stomach, one that won’t be ruined. and is sure to feel good.

“su.. ima’ cum.” you try to speak against his hungry kisses, a hum of acknowledgement leaving his ruined lips. “i know baby. do it f’me, wanna feel this pretty pussy make a mess.” he coos, his big warm hand leaving your neck and reaching down to rub your clit. as much as you miss the security of your neck being in his hold, finally being able to cum is something you need.

desperately.

he pinches the tiny pearl, his thrusts becoming more precise and harder. “shit. gotta feel it baby. cum for me, i know you want to.” suguru groans, the hand beside your head reaching and holding the side of your face, his thumb slipping between your lips as he rubs your bud. you nod your head keenly, lolling your tongue around the big finger and taking what he gives you with no complaints.

suguru notices the telltale signs of your approaching orgasm, like the vibration of moans on his thumb, drool seeping out of the corner of your mouth as your eyes roll to the back of your head. just the lewd sight of your ecstasy is enough for his hips to stutter, cock twitching inside you and his breath getting heavier.

hearing your murmurs and whines muffled by his finger, suguru smiles, rubbing your clit faster as you writhe. “cumming with you sweetheart.. gonna take it f’me baby? yeahhh you are.” he tries to laugh at the way your eyes momentarily widen, teary. but a guttural moan escapes him as you try to keep him in. tightening around him.

and here he thought you were worried.

his fingers give your clit one last pinch, before you’re falling weak to the ministration. eyes fluttering and your mouth hanging as a long moan rips from you, his finger long forgotten. “fuck, o–oh fuuuuck..” your orgasm has suguru following suit, eyes closed tight as he listens to the sweet sound of your moans, dumping a large amount of cum into the sweet threshold of your pussy. even in your moment of bliss, you can hear the small choked groans leaving him, all right beside your ear and making the warmth filling your cunt feel all the more better.

suguru begins to fall limp, tiredness seeping into his hazy mind. he carefully tries to maneuver his larger body, not wanting to hurt you. yet the second he tries to pull out, you’re swatting his hand away. mumbling something about staying like this.

you wrap your arms around his neck as he moves to lay on his side, helping you lock your legs around his waist, his dick slowly sliding back into the hilt, your pelvises flush against each other. “s–shit. looks like we’re stuck together..?” suguru sighs, kissing your forehead as you nod in his chest. “slow your roll. not yet. i’m on the pill. plus we’re not even dating.” you smile, voice croaky. you place a kiss on his neck, admiring his broad structure as he ponders. “what’s your favorite place for brunch?” he quips.

“for what?” you laugh, grinning up at him. suguru just might be in love with the way you glow, and he knows it’s not just “aftersex”. he’s always hoped for one of those sappy smiles of yours to be directed at him, and he might as well take his chance. “tomorrow. a date, if you want of course. and we’re definitely not leaving this bed in the morning so…brunch it is?”

[badgerbl00d]

taking an aphrodisiac and seeing who gives in first

☆ characters: ace, law, kidd

☆ up next: running into your ex ft. zoro

☆ summary: you take an aphrodisiac together and decide to throw in a competitive edge ; smutty, minimal plot oops

☆ a/n: this is a reupload- the original was deleted for some reason :(; requests are opened and being worked on! enjoy &lt;3

☆ 18+, mdni

ace

You waited until everyone was asleep to make your way over to Ace’s room. The two of you had decided it would probably be best to not say anything to anyone for a while, at least until you both had more time to get used to being together. 

It still sent shivers down your spine to think about the fact that you were actually dating.

You knocked on his door, using the knocking pattern he’d taught you exactly the way he’d insisted you did. 

“Ace, that’s dumb,” you’d insisted.

“No- I-I’m serious! What if I answer the door naked and Marco’s the one who knocked?”

“Why the hell would you be answering the door naked at all?”

“Well, you know ‘cause it’s, like, sexy.”

You stared at him and decided it would be best to just do a stupid secret knock. 

“...Okay what’s the knock.”

“Haha! Yes! Ok, so knock once, and then twice really fast- like da-dum, OK?”

“Alright,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Good. Then you’re gonna drumroll on the door for like three whole seconds. After that alternate between left and right twice and then-”

“Ace I’m just gonna knock three times, ok?”

He rolled his eyes, “Fine.”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You waited for a few seconds before Ace opened the door for you.

He pulled you in for a kiss, a boyish smile plastered on his face.

“My knock would’ve been better.”

You giggled and followed him to his bed, pulling out the chocolate.

The two of you had been sent shopping earlier and came across a stall selling ‘enhanced’ chocolate. After some inquiry, you discovered it was an aphrodisiac, supposed to increase libido. 

You and Ace bought it, giggling like schoolgirls, and decided you’d try it tonight.

“So we just eat it and… bang?”

“Yes, Ace, we eat it and bang.”

“I meant like bang, boom, y’know?”

Well, I meant it like sex. “Here,” you broke the candy in half and handed it to him. 

“Hold on, hold on,” he sat down next to you and pulled you onto his lap, placing a flurry of kisses on your cheek before continuing, “Wanna make it more interesting?”

“Depends what you have in mind.”

“Let’s make a bet- See who lasts longer without giving in.”

You perked up at this.

“What will I get when I win?”

He laughed, “ ‘When?’ I think you mean if. Don’t get overconfident, cutie. How about… I will take you shopping for anything you want.”

“Deal.”

Ace grabbed half of the chocolate and popped it into his mouth, and you followed suit. 

He put on a kids' show you both liked in the background, it was a cute one about a boy and his stretchy dog. He said it reminded him of him and his brothers. The two of you got comfortable on the bed, you sat leaned up against a mountain of pillows, and Ace laid on you, head resting on your thighs.

You played with his hair while he rubbed your legs, as you slowly started to feel the effects of the drug. 

You could tell Ace had started to feel it as soon as he started squirming. 

When he turned over, his stomach against yours, and started to kiss your chest and tummy, you knew you’d won. 

“About that bet…” he said.

“Already?! You didn’t even try! Go sit over there.”

“I’m sorry you’re just so beautiful and soft and I’m so hard it’s starting to hurt.”

You giggled and pulled down the straps of your shirt to tease him. 

“You want this?”

He nodded eagerly. So cute. 

He reached behind you and unhooked your bra, tossing it on the floor.

He watched as your boobs bounced out, and with his hands around your waist, took one into his mouth. 

“A-ah, Ace,” you panted as his warm mouth enveloped your nipple. 

The hot, sticky wetness of his tongue felt so, so good. Your resolve immediately crumbled and you caved to his touch. 

He sucked slightly harder, his teeth gently closing around it. 

“Ace,” you whined, your hands finding their way up his back and into his hair. 

His hands were wrapped around his waist and he was laying on top of you, lined up so that his hardening dick was against your thigh. 

You felt a sudden burst of warmth emanate from his hands, sending a violently pleasurable shiver up your spine. He knew you loved when he involved his devil fruit abilities into your sexual encounters. 

You not-so-gently pulled on his hair as your back arched into his tongue that was persistently lapping at your sensitive nipple. 

He pulled away with a pop.

“M-more, Ace,” you breathed, “I want more.”

He sat up on his knees and clumsily fumbled with his pants, failing to untie the knot at the front. 

“Let me help,” you said, reaching up to untie it for him.

You made eye contact with him as you pulled down his sweats, slipping a finger into the band of his boxers.

He took in a shaky breath, his lips parted in awe. 

“You’re so pretty, you know that?”

You didn’t respond and instead pulled down his boxers. 

He was very long and pleasantly thick. 

You felt yourself getting even wetter at the memory of how he stretched you out last time.

Ace didn’t shave either, you figured he was far too impatient but it was something you absolutely loved.

You wrapped your lips around him, slowly working your way to the base, spit coating his dick. 

He placed a gentle hand in your hair, guiding you along with him as he laid back down on the bed. 

He gathered your hair into a messy ponytail and slowly bobbed your head up and down and up and down against his length- hissing as your tongue slid up his length and swirled around the tip with every movement. 

“F-feels so good,” he said.

You moaned against him, earning an involuntary shudder from your boyfriend.

You wrapped a hand around him, lightly squeezing his spit-soaked cock. 

“N-no, no, no, too much,” he whined, “Gonna cum!”

You started to move your head faster and were abruptly pulled off of him. 

“Let me fuck you first, princess, ‘m gonna cum if you keep going.”

You sighed but relented. 

“That’s the goal, baby,” you said, straddling his hips, and placing your hands on his chest.

“Then let me cum in you,” he begged. 

You lowered yourself down onto his length as he held himself in place for you, moaning as you felt that familiar stretch. 

“F-fuck,” you breathed, “You feel so good- So big.”

“Yeah? You like this position?”

He started to move his hips, fucking up into you. 

“Y-yes, Ace- Fuck! Oh, my god, d-don’t stop!”

Your breathless moans were more than enough to get him up to a delicious pace.

You pressed hot, wet kisses to his mouth, welcoming the abnormally warm sensation in your tummy. 

You knew your boyfriend ran hot and it was the most unexpectedly wonderful thing about having sex with him. 

You were sweating, covered with water droplets that were running down your body.

Ace’s hands dug into you, wet smacking sounds filling the room as you both got closer and closer. 

You cried out with every thrust, and Ace’s head was completely fogged with euphoria. 

Your stomach was twisting and tensing with pleasure, and you rapidly tapped Ace’s chest to let him know you were close. 

He brought an arm up to your throat, gently closing his hand around it. 

You grabbed onto his forearm and pulsed around him wildly as you finished all over him.

With a few more thrusts his hips started to twitch and you could tell by his erratic pace that he was close. 

“G-gonna cum, baby- Gonna cum!”

You tightened around Ace’s cock, and felt the sudden hot spurts of cum filling you up. 

When he was finished, he brushed your hair out of your face and gently tucked it behind your ears before lifting you up to pull out. 

His cum leaked out of you and all over his thighs. 

You laid down onto him, your sticky, sweaty bodies breathing in sync. 

He rubbed your back and kissed the top of your head. 

You started giggling and he joined in. 

You slowly sat up and pressed a kiss to Ace’s sweaty forehead before collapsing onto the bed next to him.

He sighed and grabbed your hand, rubbing his thumb over yours.

“Wanna know something?” he said.

“Hm.”

“I love you!”

“I love you more! Do you wanna know something?”

“Always,” he said. 

“You lose.”

kidd

“Kidd! Hurry up,” you called him into your bedroom. 

You were sitting in bed, the covers messily thrown around you.

He walked into the room, his towel wrapped loosely around his waist, just barely dried off. 

He still had his lipstick on, not having bothered to take it off, it was smudged messily around his lips.

Water beads were running down his chest and arms, and he smelled like lavender and shampoo. 

He loved watching you get ready for bed and had started timing his showers so that he could be in the bathroom at the same time as you.

Something about the routine was so domestic- it made him feel warm inside. He’d never admit it out loud but by the third time he had made it a point to have all his work done so he could shower with you, you’d put two and two together.

He was completely entranced watching you take off your makeup, brush your hair, put on lotion like you always did, and, of course, watching you change. He’d offer to ‘help’ though, in reality, he just wanted an excuse to have his hands on you.

He sat next to you on the bed, reaching over to grab a pair of gray sweatpants you’d set out for him. 

You sat on your knees, wearing an old torn-up t-shirt of his.

In your hands were two small pieces of chocolate, that you and Kidd had been eagerly waiting to eat. 

“I'm here, darlin’,” he said, getting up to put on his pants. 

“Won’t be needing those,” you giggled.

He turned to give you a kiss on your forehead. 

“Ready?”

You kissed him, gently biting his bottom lip.

“That eager, hm?”

Kidd reached for one of the chocolates in your hand, which you moved out of his reach.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, hold on,” you were greeted with an eye roll, “I wanna make a bet.”

Impatience had been starting to show itself on his face until the word ‘bet’ fell from your lips. 

His competitiveness outweighed his short attention span. 

“What kind of bet, love?”

A devilish smile spread on your face, easily Kidd’s favorite of your many expressions, “I think you’re going to be so pathetically desperate that you’ll give in before I even feel it.”

He laughed, and your stomach twisted in anticipation at the way he looked at you after.

“Deal, baby, but what am I gonna get when I win?”

“Whatever you want.”

You blinked up at him, and he felt his dick twitch in his pants. 

His confidence momentarily faltered, before he snatched a chocolate out of your hand and ate it as he made his way out of the room toward his office. 

“I’ll be in there, baby. Working.”

You lay down on your side of the bed and waved him off, grabbing your book from your nightstand. 

You knew five minutes in that you were destined for failure. You tried to focus on the book but the lines were blurring into one another and all you could think of was how Kidd’s hands felt when they were around your throat, or smacking your ass, or pulling you closer into him by your waist. 

After an excruciating twenty minutes of resisting the pooling wetness in between your thighs, you swallowed your pride and made your way to Kidd’s office.

You lightly knocked before walking in, blushing from embarrassment. 

Kidd sat in his office chair, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, beckoning you toward him with a few pats to his lap. 

If you weren’t so achingly desperate to feel that hand grabbing and squeezing you, you would’ve given him a piece of your mind for calling you to him like a dog. 

Yet, like a dog, you obeyed and made your way toward him tail tucked between your legs.

You were dressed in nothing but the t-shirts and a pair of black and white polka dot panties. 

He pulled you onto his lap once you were close enough and you straddled him, sinking your lips eagerly into his, his lipstick smudging across both of your faces.

He loved seeing you like that- he took a guilty pleasure in seeing you marked up, be it by his lipstick or hickeys he wanted to see you completely covered. 

Pulling away from the kiss to look at your lover, you suddenly became very aware of his hardening erection that was pushed snugly against your pussy.

It dawned on you now that had you stuck it out even just a few more minutes you probably would’ve won the bet. But that was the last thing on your mind and all you could think of now was the feeling of familiar hardness against your lower half.

A breath caught in your throat and your own arousal started to soak through your panties.

You could feel your heartbeat pulsing in your clit, the throbbing sensation starting to overwhelm you.

You pawed at his chest, desperate for some kind of give, and slowly started circling your hips against him.

“You like feeling my dick against ya? Hm?”

He patted your cheek lightly when you didn’t answer and you nodded. 

“You want more?”

You nodded again, more enthusiastically this time.

He slapped your face- a little harder this time.

“I want to hear you say it,” he reminded you, holding your face in one hand, your cheeks squished together. 

“Y-yesh, captain, want more,” you moaned, picking up the pace of your grinding against his lap. 

“Sit up for me baby,” he said.

You did, raising your ass from his thighs. 

He pushed your panties to the side and ran a cold, metal finger up your slit, gathering your slick arousal onto it. 

“Ah! Please, Kidd, please. I’ve already lost, so don’t tease!”

He laughed at your desperation, “Quit whinin’ sweetheart, gimme a sec.”

He pulled the waistline of his sweatpants down and his cock sprang up, lying flat against his abdomen. 

The tip was flushed pink and dribbling pre-cum. 

Tentatively, you wrapped your small hand around the base and lightly pumped up and down. 

Kidd made no complaints so you moved your hand with more vigor. 

Your thumb swiped at the leaking slit on his head and used the arousal to pump him faster, earning heavenly moans to fall on your ears.

“Just like that, Y/n.”

You bit your bottom lip and bent down slightly to start pressing wet kisses to his throat as you pleased him.  

You worked your way up to his jaw, and pulled away to look up at him. 

He was in complete euphoria, his head leaning back against the chair, neck completely exposed to you.

You watched as his chest rose and fell, in sync with every up and down motion of your hand. 

You slowly started to get yourself down from his lap- and his head shot up.

“Oi, oi, where’re ya goin’?”

“Shh, baby, just let me make you feel good.”

You could tell he didn’t like this at all, he was always in control.

He told you when to cum, where to lick, what to do, and this was driving him insane.

But the pleasure coursing through his body left his brain feeling too good to question anything.

You knelt down on the floor in front of him and guided his hand to your hair, which he gladly held up. 

“I see,” he mused, a smile spreading on his face, “In that case, go ahead, darlin’.”

You wrapped both hands around the base of his extraordinarily thick cock, bringing the tip towards your already extended tongue.

Your hands worked in unison with your mouth, pumping him while you licked up and down his head.

When he was sufficiently worked up you enclosed your mouth over the smallest amount possible, gathering spit in your mouth.

It dribbled down the underside of his cock, providing you with the necessary lubrication to take him down your throat.

You started slow- Kidd was big and you knew you had to warm up before taking all of him. 

His grip on your hair tightened as your tongue licked the underside of his shaft, and your lips wrapped around the rest of him.

His breathing was getting faster and curses were spilling out of his throat.

You finally took him to the base, your nose getting buried in his pubes.

You gagged and your eyes started to water, but Kidd held your head in place.  

“F-fuck, shh, shh, breathe baby, breathe,” Kidd shuddered out, “Just like that, oh, good girl.”

Tears started falling from your eyes as your Captain sat back up, and started to slowly pump himself in and out of your mouth. 

You could tell by the twitching and tensing of his dick that he was getting close, and your own arousal was starting to drip down your legs. 

You sharply inhaled with every thrust he gave, holding onto his thighs to try and support yourself. 

“So good f’me,” he panted, “Gonna cum soon.”

You moaned against him as he fucked your mouth, gently cupping his balls in one hand. 

“Fuck!”

With no warning you found yourself swallowing hot spurts of cum. 

“MM! Mmf mm mmm-” KIDD! Don’t do that-

He interrupted you with a loud laugh, “Sorry darlin’ I couldn’t help it.”

You swallowed and Kidd lifted you back up onto his lap, wrapping strong arms back around your waist. 

You pulled aside your panties, letting your flooding arousal pour onto him.

You sat up on your knees, letting him rub his length up and down your slit, before slipping the head in.

You winced as you lowered your hips down, taking him fully. 

He pushed up into you once he had bottomed out, earning a generous moan from you- music to his ears. 

His hands tightened around your waist as he started to bounce you up and down, you were so wet that every slight movement was audible and filled the room with the sticky, wet sounds of you sucking him in.

He slid in and out of you so easily, and you were so tender that it wasn’t long until you were close.

With every kiss of his tip against your g-spot the coil in your stomach tightened, a strong, delicious tension pressed against the spot right beneath your tummy. 

The steady smack, smack, smack that had started to fill the room clouded your thinking and you were completely rag-dolled by Kidd who was bouncing you at a relentless pace. 

In a flash of white, hot pleasure you came- hard. Your fingernails dug into your boyfriend’s back, a few even breaking skin. Your thighs pressed against each other and you fell forward, leaning your full body weight against him. 

The both of you sat in silence for a moment, the sound of your breathing filling the room. 

Slowly, you sat up pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. 

“I win.”

Kidd’s brows furrowed, “No, ya fuckin’ don’t. You came in here begging for-”

“So? I walked in and you were already hard, so I won.”

“That’s definitely not how this works, love. You walked in wetter than water-”

“HA! I did not,” you lied, “I wasn’t even wet until I sat on your lap. You’re such a sore loser-”

Kidd laughed, and pressed kisses all over your face, “You’re a terrible liar, love.”

You rolled your eyes. 

“Fine. What do you want as a prize?”

Kidd pulled you closer to him, your breath getting gently pushed out as your chest pressed against his. 

“I want more.”

law

You flipped through the pages of a special Valentine’s Day magazine, dog-earing the pages of clothing shops and restaurants you wanted to visit with your boyfriend when he had time. 

He was sitting at his desk, just a few feet away from you organizing medical files and equipment into his drawers. 

His music was playing in the background, out of a small speaker you got him for his twenty-fifth birthday. 

A smooth saxophone melody danced over a relaxing, steady drum beat. 

He loved jazz.

Helps me concentrate, he’d said. 

It had grown on you after a year of listening to it every night and there were few things you found yourself enjoying more than these late nights with your boyfriend, each of you doing your own thing while still enjoying the other’s company. 

You were the cutest, sweetest thing in the world to Law, and on nights like these, he liked watching you when you thought he was completely absorbed in his work.

He watched as you’d read, play a video game, or map out your next course. 

Laying on your stomach, you swished your feet in the air behind you, gently rocking them to and fro- a sign Law knew far too well.

“Bored, baby?”

You stilled your feet, feeling guilty that he noticed.

“A little,” you admitted, “And this magazine is making me sad.”

He quirked an eyebrow, asking for elaboration.

“It’s full of cute romantic stuff to do, but who knows if we’ll even get a chance. What with being outlaws and all.”

He smiled and put away the rest of the mess in front of him before sitting on the bed next to you.

You sat up, hugging your knees to your chest, and laid your head down against his shoulder. 

“If you want to go to any of these places, you just let me know and we’ll go. Any marines or bounty hunters that try to intervene will be sorry.”

You giggled, “Should we plan out our Valentine’s Day then?”

He nodded.

“But first, I have something for you.”

You sat up at this, looking up at him with your big doe eyes.

He pulled out a small piece of chocolate from his pocket. 

“Oh! Thank you! Is it dark chocolate ‘cause I don’t like the other kinds-”

You reached for it, but Law pulled back before you could grab it.

“Tsk, tsk- Hold on, my love. 

We’re going to split it.”

You found it somewhat odd that you’d split such a small piece of chocolate and furrowed your brows, earning a laugh from your boyfriend who was unwrapping the candy.

“It’s an aphrodisiac.”

Oh! Your eyes widened, and eagerness pooled into them.

He froze for a second, “Shit- wait! Should I have waited until Valentine’s Day? This would’ve been a good surprise, dammit.”

You laughed out loud at his sudden change in demeanor and quickly reassured him that it was perfectly fine.

“Good to have a test round anyway, no?”

He kissed your forehead and handed you a piece. 

As you ate he continued, “To make it a little more interesting, you’re gonna go to the library and I’ll go to the operation room. Whoever gives in first loses.”

“What constitutes giving in?”

“Asking for sex.”

You stood up, stretching your body out, fingertips extending toward the roof. 

Walking out you stood at the doorway, turning to look back at your lover.

“You’re gonna lose.”

“I am? Oh, but what if I do this,” he said before he suddenly stood up and walked toward you, “Please, Y/n.”

Your panties flooded upon hearing these words, so sickly sweet and needy, and you pressed your thighs together.

Law slowly knelt on the floor in front of you, placing a large hand on the outside of each of your thighs.

He sank lower before you and pressed soft kisses up your legs, stopping at your knees.

Your heartbeat quickened and you could hear your breathing, now made up entirely of fast inhales and exhales like your lungs were trying to catch up with the frenzied, eager mess between your thighs. 

A hand made its way between your knees and Law looked up to you, as though asking for permission to part them. 

Your lips were parted and glossy, you looked so sweet and cute that he could feel his cock throbbing in his pants, the denim tightening around it. 

This kind of eagerness, this lust that filled him had been completely unknown to him before meeting you. 

He pushed your legs apart and his tongue attached to your left thigh, licking a long, wet stripe up it, stopping right before your pussy.

It took immense willpower to not give in right then and there, to not sink his tongue and lips into your wet, dripping heat. To stop himself from indulging in that feeling of the fat of your pussy smothering his face.

But he instead turned to your right thigh, licking and biting his way up it, marking your legs with love marks. Littered hues of dark browns and purples mixed with vibrant reds and pinks covered your thighs. 

Your bottom lip trembled as you ignored every sensation traveling in and on your body. Your nerves were aching, screaming for you to ask Law to touch you. Beg him, if you had to.

But you resisted- blinking back the tears that pooled on your lower lash line in an attempt to refocus. 

The surgeon took note of your resolve and decided to make it crumble.

He lifted your shirt up and over your head and unhooked your bra.

He watched, with an unnerving intensity as your tits jiggled around and softly pinched at your nipples.

Your cheeks were hot to the touch and goosebumps flooded your skin. 

“A-ah-,” you moaned as he started to lick and suck your nipples, getting rougher and rougher. He held your breasts in his hands and pushed them against each other, sloppily licking over any and everything he could reach with his tongue. 

You openly moaned now, completely overcome by the euphoric sensation you were feeling.

His tongue was soft and warm and wet and sticky and felt so, so good over your aching breasts that had been eager for his touch. 

“L-law, please- Oh, my god, yes! Yes,” you whined and writhed under his touch.

He pulled away with a pop, “You like it that much, bunny?”

You fervently nodded and your hands found their way onto his head, tangling themselves in his dark black hair. 

“C’mere, baby,” he said, pulling you in for a kiss.

You snaked your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, savoring how he tasted. 

Pressing a hand against your chest, he laid you down on the couch and grabbed your legs placing them over his shoulders.

Your stomach tensed up, and you could feel your desperate pussy start to twitch. 

He lowered himself so he was level with your soaked panties and placed a kiss right on top of your clothed clit, earning a series of pathetic whines from you. 

You reintroduced your hands to his hair, gently pulling and tugging him toward your needy heat. 

“This is what you want?” 

He ran a long finger up and down your slit.

“Yes! Please, please Law. E-eat me out, ‘m so so wet for you,” you begged.

He pushed your panties to the side, and with a pointed tongue, licked up and down your slit- never quite touching your clit. He gathered the slick pouring out of your hole on his tongue and spit it back onto your pussy.

The teasing continued as he sucked and softly bit your lips, licking everywhere but the aching bundle of nerves that you could feel throbbing.

“Don’t tease!” you cried, desperate for him to give you what you wanted. 

 He laughed and with torturous slowness, started to lick your pulsing bud.

It was euphoric- waves of hot, warm pleasure flooded your body as you sunk your nails into the couch cushions, moans spilling from your lips.

He knew exactly what he was doing, where you liked him to apply more pressure, and where to ease off. 

He had an iron grip on your thighs, dimpling the flesh where his fingers held onto you.

Your moans got less consistent and more strained as you got closer.

“Just like that, baby,” you panted, “Gonna cum!”

As he heard this, he pulled you even closer toward his mouth and your back slid down the wall.

His grip tightened on your thighs and would have been painful if not for how sweetly he was eating you out. 

The obscene wet sounds of licking and slurping and sucking echoed off the walls of his room and you felt your core tightening as you got closer, your hips bucking up into Law’s face out of desperation. 

In a split second, the winding cord snapped and you gasped, digging your hands into the tangled mess that was Law’s hair. 

He slowly pulled his face away from your pussy completely soaked.

He had a drunk look in his eyes and you could already feel yourself wanting more.

Law picked you up, palming your ass, and carried you back to his bed. 

The clock read 6:34 a.m. when the two of you finally went to shower. 

Law did most of the work for you, as you were about ready to pass out. 

He pressed soft kisses on your soapy shoulders and dried you off when you were done. 

He went and grabbed your favorite pajamas for you and tucked you into bed with a soft kiss. 

“And by the way, my love.” 

You turned to look at him, lips still puffy from his assault on them. 

Law took a moment to appreciate the way your nipples poked through the thin silk of your nightgown, and how gently your chest rose and fell as you started to fall asleep. 

He sat next to where you lay on the bed, running a hand through your hair and rubbing circles on your back.

You turned up to look at him, beckoning for him to kiss you.

He bent down, your lips practically touching. 

As a sly smile spread over your face you told him, 

“Technically speaking, I win.”

[paigebueckersmommy]

hotel - p.b

paige bueckers x uconn wbb player

requested by anon

warnings : fingering, p eating, teasing

you and paige had been going out for 4 months, after playing on the same team 4 years. you and paige had both decided to stay a 5th year, not knowing what it would lead to. you and paige share a dorm, so one night when you and paige had had too much to drink, things got steamy, and ever since then..

your former teammates nika and aalyiah were getting drafted at the WNBA draft, so you, paige and azzi went to support them. azzi was staying in a room with nika in the room a couple doors down from you ima gorgeous hotel. when paige told you that you two would be sharing a room, there was a grin across both of your faces.

azzi came into your room to get ready with you and paige, azzi was sitting on the couch in your room waiting for you to get done with P’s hair. “OHHHH MY GOD COULD YOU GUYS MOVE ANY SLOWER.” azzi groaned out of frustration. paige smirked then moved herself close to your ear to whisper, “little does she know how fast we go.” you giggled then playfully slap her arm. azzi could see in the bathroom door from the couch. with a grossed out look on her face, “i don’t wanna know.” she says as she pays her attention back to her phone.

you guys continued getting ready, and walked the orange carpet and got interviewed before the draft stated.

you guys sat down, you on the end of the row, paige in the middle and azzi on paige’s left. still waiting for the draft to start, and azzi conversing with someone else in our row, and paige lays her hand ok your inner thigh, dangerously close to your heat.

you gasp and make eye contact with her as she grins, “what you don’t like my hand there ma?” you giggle. azzi turns around from her conversation, making contact with paige’s hand on your thigh. “ew. can you two not wait till we get back? you act like you don’t have a king bed all to your self for the next two days” she says with a fake, over dramatic gag. paige quickly removes her hand, her hand flying to her head in a command way, “yes ma’am sorry ma’am.” azzi laughs and she puts her hand back on your thigh, azzi jot saying anything else about it.

you’d spend the night cheering, crying and hugging.

when you get back to your hotel, you plop yourself on your bed. paige goes to the bathroom and undresses herself all but the gold chain around her neck. she climbs over to the bed and hovers over you. “hey ma” she says. “hi P” you say with a giggle. “y’know all i could think about the entire night was your pussy. i’m soaked.” she whispers, even tho your alone. you don’t mind, it’s incredibly sexy.

you starts to rip all you clothes off, leaving you completely naked. paige hovers her mouth over you, licking a single stripe down your body. “mhm fuck paige please” you say, desperate. “please what sweetheart? where do you need me?” she says, acting clueless as if she doesn’t know your body inside out “p i need your mouth on my pussy”

she immediately follows your request, circling your clit with her tounge. you let out moans that satisfy paige. she enters her toung inside you, and your legs already start to shake. “fuck i’m close P,” you release on paige, her licking up and down your folds twice more before coming up and kissing you for the purpose of tasting yourself. “u taste so good baby” paige says in a raspy tone.

you were now on top of paige, kissing. you seperate your faces, shoving 2 fingers into paige’s mouth as she swirls them with her toung. when she’s done, she bites her lip, knowing what will happen. you rub her clit, earning gasps from paige. “fuck baby,” paige says breathing out moans. you shove your fingers into her sopping wet cunt. she moans out loudly, murmuring curse words.

after a minute or two, paige’s legs start to shake while she continues to moan your name and cursing. you saw her making the face she makes before she cums, the face you love. she relases under you when you bring your fingers to your mouth, savoring paige’s taste. after you lick her juices off, you bring them to paige’s mouth, still recovering from her orgasm. “taste yourself baby.” you say in a sub tone.

“holy fuck baby.” paige breathes out.

[aothotties]

Sneaky Link w/ JJK

WARNINGS: MDNI, Public sex, shower sex, daddy kink, creampie

Toji

In all honesty neither one of you meant for this to happen. He’s your trainer at the gym…or at least he was.

It started off super innocent at first, then it turned into sly comments, small touches here and there, y’know the fluffy stuff, but as we all know nothing about Toji Fushiguro is vanilla, let alone fluffy.

Before you knew it a simple training session would almost always turn into a fucking session.

He just cant help himself, the way your ass looks in your shorts every time you squat drives him insane, I mean what is he supposed to do? How do you expect him to not take you then and there.

“T-toji I can’t!” You sob into his chest and your toes curl as another orgasm builds up.

“Awe really? We barely did our workout today, gotta make up for it somehow.” He smirks and holds your legs open wider for him.

You’re not sure how, but by the grace of god he’s managed to hold you up in the air like this for the past 15 minutes.

Your thighs begin to weaken in his hold and he smirks at the way you start shaking.

“Are you close angel?” He stops moving you on his dick and watches as you squirm around.

“Y-yes! P-please let me cum.” You wrap your tired arms around his neck and pull him close to you.

His dick can’t help but twitch at how fucked out and exhausted you look. The hair tie that was holding your puff back popped off long ago and your poor glasses were nowhere to be found.

“You’re so fucking sexy sweet girl.” He groans as you tighten around him and he bounces you up and down on his dick again.

He presses your back against the shower wall and slams a hand over your mouth to contain your moans.

“Is daddy making you feel good? You gonna come soon?” His hand is still pressed against your lips, but you’re too fucked out to respond anyway.

Your eyesight goes completely white as your orgasm releases onto him and the shower floor.

“There we go mama! You’re such a good girl.” He moves the hand that was covering your mouth and grabs your jaw to slam his lips against yours.

His hips slam continue to slam against your own, his big balls begin to tense up as his orgasm approaches.

“F-fill m-me up please!” You bite down on his bottom lip and his hips stutter at the request.

He slams his dick into your cunt one last time before he fills you to the brim with his cum. His dick continuously twitches and the large vein on the underside of it pulses as he comes down from his high.

“I think the gym is definitely closed now.” You mumble into his shoulder and he nods his head.

“I know it is, I made sure of it.”

Ari

[srslyscary]

things they’ve said // ot8

things bf!skz has said to you

Including: bang chan, changbin, hyunjin, lee know, seungmin, han, felix, jeongin

Bang Chan

; “you’re too cute for this world, Y’know?”

; “don’t doubt yourself babe. you’re amazing in my eyes.”

; “not every day do you get to wake up to a gorgeous gal.”

; “I know it’s late, but check out this track I made— yeah it’s about you, what about it babe?”

; “stain my face with your pretty lips baby, I want everyone to know I belong to you— yeah with that new lipstick you bought, it’s a cute color. perfect for complimenting my face.”

; “i have seven kids and now they’re also YOUR seven kids.. deal with it, hah.”

; “you’re shorter than me, so your love capacity isn’t as strong as mine. it’s physically impossible for you to love me more babe.”

; “I can’t take my eyes off you. you’re just too pretty— I’m not trying to be creepy!— no— Y’know what I just won’t look at you then.. hehe.”

; “you deserve the universe.”

; “it’s kind of hard to unlove you sweetheart.”

; “it’s only been 2 minutes how do you already miss me.”

; “baby all I wanna do is see you. and do you.— just kidding… or am I?”

; “my goal is to keep you happy all the time.”

; “I love you because you’re the best. intellectual wise I REALLY would hate for someone to touch you lovingly like I do.”

; “excuse the fact that we’re locked in for life and you can’t go anywhere without me- HAHA.”

; “I got addicted to you very easily.”

; “I think I’m just in love with everything you do.”

; “I love you. I don’t think I said that enough today.”

Changbin

; “y’know what we should do? go have a picnic and watch the sunset. wouldn’t that be nice?”

; “you’re always pretty jagiya. you’re especially pretty without makeup.”

; “i’m tired. let’s cuddle, kay? I wanna feel you wrapped up in my arms, I’ll know you’re safe with me then.”

; “I literally just can’t have enough of you.”

; “I’ve been looking at pictures of you for the last 30 minutes—“

; “I like you mostest— no I love you. I’m IN love with you.”

; “wanna ft and eat together?”

; “You’re perfect to me. You always will be— it’s not cheesy it’s the truth!— accept my compliments right now!”

; “stop being stingy and give me more kisses! I’ll die if you don’t smother me— it’s true my doctor says so!”

; “your presence heals me.”

; “You’re like my healing wave and my bright sun.”

; “I can’t even describe in words how sexy you are right now- you’re just- WOW.”

; “FOOD DATEEEE! YAYYYY!”

; “I want you in every way that there is to want a person.”

; “You’re sweet, and hot.. good mix in my opinion.”

; “you should stay up.. I wanna keep flirting with you.”

Hyunjin

; “I wanted to talk to you. I miss your voice and your laugh, and your pretty face.”

; “my love, you could be more discreet if you’re trying to scare me— USING MINHO AS A SCARE TACTIC ISN’T FAIR EITHER!”

; “I’ll be as sassy as I want. Now give me a kiss I’m craving them— yes I’m on my period now hand them over or else.”

; “jokes on you, you’re my number one priority right now. the boys can wait a little while longer.”

; “I wanna stay up and talk to you.— What do you mean no?— that’s too bad, you’re not my mom.”

; “you mean more than the world to me.”

; “I don’t care who he was. he was looking at you the way I look at you. and I should be the ONLY person to look at you like that— cmon love.”

; “I’m physically craving your touch right now— I just want to sock you in the face and then kiss it right where it hurts— I’m joking I love you!”

; “I always wanna be by your side angel.”

; “You’re cute when you’re sleepy.”

; “I’m painting you love, what else would I be doing?”

Lee Know

; “you literally captivate me. your eyes especially. I could spend hours looking at your pretty face and never get bored.”

; “one day I’m gonna train my cats to come beat you up.”

; “I’m gonna punch you in the mouth. With my mouth. Softly.— yea I’m going to kiss you.”

; “stop saying things that make me want to kiss the hell out of you. it’s not funny— don’t laugh!”

; “I want your lips, I want your everything. or rather- I want you here so I can hold you.”

; “when I talk to you.. it’s like talking to my best friend. except I love you and I get to kiss you all over and all that cool stuff.”

; “your stubborn ass is never gonna listen— also I love your ass. literally.”

; “I’m really just.. fucking soft when it comes to you.”

; “yeah babe. you’re really pretty. the prettiest.”

; “You’re literally dreaming i didn’t say that— how’s that gaslighting?!”

; “you make me think of a love song every time I look at you.”

; “baby, just kiss me.”

; “Sure, we can get matching outfits.”

Seungmin

; “you look so innocent but I know you’re not— that makes me weak.”

; “I can tell you so many times how pretty you are, because you’re my pretty puppy and no one else’s.”

; “kinda wanna take you out for dinner— what I’m just saying?”

; “relax pretty puppy, I’m all yours.”

; “I wanna see you drunk off my kisses.”

; “I just like whacked Han in the back of the head and he started crying- funniest thing ever.”

; “we look cute together, don’t you agree?”

; “let’s live together, I hate everyone else except you.”

; “you haven’t talked to me since 12:03pm. I’m lonely. talk to me babe.”

; “it’s not like I hate going out. I just hate everyone else gets to see how pretty you are.”

; “didn’t you say you liked these?— yeah I got ‘em for you.”

; “babe, you’re constantly reading that. what is it?”

; “wanna come watch me practice?”

; “that dress is cute babe, you should get it.”

; “You’re so stupidly cute, it’s getting annoying.”

; “babe, I love you— but stop trying to get me to buy you that dog.”

Han

; “BABE GUESS WHAT— I love you!”

; “hi beautiful, I hope you had a good day!”

; “You’re so cute babeeee, you literally make my heart melt.”

; “wake up I miss you.”

; “baby, have I ever told you how pretty you are?— mhm! the prettiest.”

; “You’re all I’ll ever need.”

; “daily reminder that I’m so in love with you-!”

; “I woke up and the first thing I wanted was you.”

; “this pretty face is all mine— mine to kiss and stare at and compliment.”

; “my favorite thing to look at is you of course!!”

; “TODAY REMINDS ME OF YOU— BECAUSE ITS HOT.”

; “I got butterflies when you called me pretty.”

; “I stay up just to talk to you babe.”

; “girl the only side chicks I got are your other personalities.”

; “You’re always on my mind, duh.”

; “honestly my mom would be so proud of me if I brought you home.”

; “you have me on some foreign level of happy.”

; “why is it that birds chirp to communicate? let’s chirp to communicate baby! — IT’S NOT WEIRD IT’S NATURE.”

; “how’s your day going my beautiful future wife?”

; “face time meeee, I’m with the boyssss, they wanna say hi to my girlll!”

; “I want you. Only you.”

; “just kiss me and don’t stop.”

Felix

; “good morning angel. sleep well?”

; “I want all of you forever. you and your perfect face, your perfect body, your perfect personality.”

; “me and chan bought ice cream! wanna share with me?”

; “BABE THERE’S A SPIDER— oh right.. yeah I’ll kill it-“

; “so you’re saying you saw a cat and your first thought was to text me about it?— god I love you.”

; “you just have me so whipped. I’d do anything for you.”

; “sunshine, can I tell the boys about you?”

; “You’re my entire universe, and whatever is beyond that.”

; “such a pretty face, can’t believe I get to kiss you and call you mine.”

; “of course I made you some brownies! why wouldn’t I?”

; “when I kiss you it’s hard for me to stop.”

; “I love you with my heart baby.”

; “don’t get jealous baby you own my heart, I’m all yours.”

; “I wanna marry you already. I want a house, a dog, a weird grocery list, everything baby.”

; “why are you staring at me, huh beautiful?”

; “You’re really cute when you’re nervous.”

; “I’ll be over in five with pizza. Sound good?”

Jeongin

; “I’m so proud of everything you do lovely!”

; “proceed with caution you might burn down the kitchen.”

; “You’re literally my dream girl.”

; “I was just thinking about you— and our future.”

; “the thought of us kissing won’t leave my head-“

; “I miss you, call me?”

; “You’re cute.. we should be cute together!”

; “stay called me a peach.. do you think I’m a peach lovely?”

; “I don’t care what you wear, you’re beautiful either way.”

; “there she is— the girl of my dreams.”

; “I wanna be your every thought, every second of the day.”

; “I text you when I miss you.. which is all the time.”

; “can I tell you something? don’t freak out.— I love you.”

; “Sorry im busy! I’m discussing future wedding plans with your mom!”

; “you hungry lovely?— scratch that I know you’re always hungry, let’s go to that cafe down the street.”

; “send me videos of you— why would I want nudes? — no send me videos of you being silly and singing!”

; “I’m glad I met you too, you’re the best thing to happen to me.”

[sherlocksoft]

Send You To Sleep Satisfied

Geralt x reader drabble

Summary: Geralt can’t sleep. Rather than settling for a restless a night, you offer an easy (and rather more pleasurable) solution.

Author’s notes: This is set at no specific time and has no particular context. I just wanted to give Geralt some comfort. Y’know, in a sexy way.

Warnings/content: nsfw - smut, handjob, gn!reader, exhausted and needy Geralt, extra lil gif at the end 🖤

A large hand slid roughly over your stomach followed by a heavy, muscular arm snaking around your waist and dragging you swiftly backwards.

‘Geralt!’ you exclaimed, your heart racing before you realised it was him, ‘I was almost asleep! You startled me-’

‘M’sorry,’ came his muffled reply, his handsome nose already buried deep in your hair, nuzzling against the nape of your neck. He breathed you in, holding you close and sighing deeply. ‘Can’t sleep.’

Steadying your breath, you shifted within his firm embrace, smiling at the grunt of disapproval you elicited by taking away the comfort of your hair and your back pressed flush to his broad chest.

Another comfort soon replaced this, though.

‘I can help you with that,’ you cooed, watching with delight as his heavily lidded eyes slid shut at the warmth of your fingers slipping past the waistband his tight trousers.

A whispered little ‘Oh-’ slipped from between his pretty parted lips. ‘You… mmh… you don’t need to-’ It was hardly a protest, his voice heavy with lack of sleep yet laced with obvious desire.

You stilled then, his erection steadily growing harder against your now unmoving palm.

His eyes opened, sharp beneath a sudden frown. ‘You don’t need to, but… since you’ve started…’ A bead of precum oozed from his tip causing a whine to escape his throat before he could stop it. His eyes clenched tight shut in shame. ‘Don’t stop?’

A knowing smirk pulled at your lips. Geralt never could resist the promise of a good orgasm when the opportunity presented itself at such a perfect moment as this.

He was too tired to fuck. This, you knew. But you could pleasure him to sleep as he had done for you countless times, his elegant fingers or clever tongue or thick cock working their magic to soothe your exhausted body and allow your tired mind to rest.

Your fingers curled loosely around his length, pumping lazily to begin with, massaging his cock with a hint of tenderness that had him melting.

‘Shh, Geralt, focus on my touch. Float away on the sensation of your pleasure… let me send you to sleep satisfied, relaxed….’ you breathed, easing his tension away with your voice as much as your hand.

His strong fingers grasped at your arm, fingertips driving harder into your flesh as you wanked him faster. You hoped he’d leave bruises, marks you could show him tomorrow that might make him blush. He rarely blushed, but when a flush of crimson powdered his cheeks, it was certainly a pretty sight.

His hips began to rock in time to meet your movements and his breath grew heavy, interspersed with blissful moans. His cock throbbed inside your grip when your thumb swiped over the tip, collecting the thick offering of precum that had steadily built up there.

‘That’s it, I can feel it-’ you breathed, ‘let go.’

His forehead pressed to yours, breath hot and heavy and tingling against your cool lips as his muscles rapidly tensed, his toes curled and his back arched.

‘Fuck!’ he growled through gritted teeth as overwhelming surges of pleasure rushed through his core to bring about his release, and he repeated, in a much smaller voice as the rapture subsided, ‘… fuck…’

As his cock softened, sensitive with aftershocks, gently, you withdrew your hand and sealed your mouth to his.

‘We’ll bathe in the morning, love,’ you whispered with a smile against his lips, not caring a jot about the thick creamy rope that had made a mess of his trousers and stained your arm, sticky against your skin. ‘For now, sleep.’

Geralt grunted. The tell tale signs of sleep began to pull at his features as the rush of his climax fell away to lull him into a peaceful slumber.

He huffed, amused. ‘I’ve slept in worse conditions. Besides-’ a small yawn interrupted him, exhaustion and the bliss of post-orgasm haze slurring his speech slightly as he continued, slowly, ‘in the morning, before anything else… I will be busy… making you scream my name.’

And with that, the calming sound of his low snore took over; the heat that had pooled at your core content to remain there until morning. For now you watched him rest until you were dreaming yourself. You dreamed of him.

[jamdoughnutmagician]

Do Ya Wanna Taste It?

Eddie Munson/Reader

Summary:Eddie gets the chance to spend some time with the girl of his dreams and treats her just how she deserves to be treated.

Warnings:18+, Smut, Kissing, Body Worship, Teasing, Oral Sex (F recieving), Fingering, Nothing else that I can think of (unless you wanna shoot me a message to say I missed something) 

Word Count:822 

Authour’s note:This was my first time writing something spicy with Eddie Munson in mind, and basically I’m just pulling this from my AO3 account and posting it here too. And yes I’m using the Peacemaker theme tune as a title for this fic you can’t tell me what to do

Laying on your back against his bed, you feel the press of his soft lips pressing against yours, tongues tangling together. His large hands cradling your head, his long fingers working their way to weave in your hair.

Slowly you pulled away from him as he chased your lips for one final taste before you broke the silence.

“Y’know you are just full of surprises, aren’t ‘ya Munson?”

“Oh Baby, you have no idea.” Eddie chuckled as he continued to kiss his way down your body.

If it’s one thing that Eddie loves (well really it’s two things, but the best things, as he’s told you many times before,come in pairs) it’s your tits.

As Eddie gently places tender kisses all over your breasts, his pink tongue darts out to slowly drag its way around one of your nipples. Teasing the bud into a hardened peak before he wraps his lips around it and sucks it into the warm heat of his mouth. All the while, with his large calloused hands, he holds the weight of your other breast in his other hand using his skilled guitarists fingers to pluck and pinch your other nipple.

Suddenly you feel his lips descend lower down your body, whilst still placing kisses on any and all exposed soft skin that he could find.

Soon you felt the graze of his teeth nipping at the elastic waist of your yellow and black polka dot patterned cotton panties.

“Gotta say babe, these cute little panties of your are really doing it for me, they’re so sexy” Eddie smirked as his lips placed kisses along your inner thigh

You felt your face heat up with embarrassment, giggling behind your hands.

Lifting your hips up, so that Eddie could hook his fingers into your panties and drag them down your legs. You didn’t miss how he tucked your panties into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Just keeping them for later, baby, I hope you don’t mind” he winked at you.

The thought of Eddie being by himself in his trailer bedroom lining his fist with your underwear as he works over himself is something you’ll be keeping in mind for when you're alone as well.

“There she is, my pretty girl” he all but almost purred out as he was greeted by the sight of your exposed pussy.

Leaning forward, Eddie anchored his arms under your legs to throw them over his shoulders. His tongue darts out to briefly wet his lips, giving you a moment to gather your thoughts, before his tongue licks a long slow stripe along your pussy.

Eddie prided himself in his oral skills, and he delighted in showing off his talents to you any chance he would get.

He absolutely loved having his tongue buried in your pretty pussy, drinking in your sweet juices. He was teasing one single finger inside your tight wet heat, pushing until he could feel that soft spot inside you that had your squirming on his bed. Wrapping his lips around your clit, he gave it a few quick flicks of his tongue before going back and sucking it between his pink lips

Whether he realised it or not, the sounds of your delicious whimpers, had his hips grinding into his mattress in a futile attempt to relieve some of the pressure of the growing hardness in jeans.

Your hands that had previously been grasping at the sheets of Eddie’s bed, somewhere down the line, had found their way to tangle in Eddie’s mess of curls. Tugging the soft strands between your fingers as he continued to slip another finger inside you, and press into your sweet spot.

The knot in the pit of your lower stomach was tightening even more, as you rocked your hips against your boyfriend's face.

“You taste so good, babe” he slurred out against your wet heat.

With Eddie’s constant stimulation on your pussy, it didn’t take you very long before the knot in the pit of your stomach finally snapped as you rode out your high, hands tugging deep in your boyfriends as your hips thrashed against his face. Placing his hands on your lower stomach, Eddie drank down everything that your sweet pussy would give him, slurping up your release.

With you gasping for breath as the aftershocks of your orgasm subsided, Eddie came to lie next to you, holding you in his arms on his bed.

“Wait...what about you? Isn’t it my turn to go down on you now?” you teased with a laugh.

“Oh we don’t have to worry about that, right now. I actually kind of already came.” he shyly admitted with a blush. “You know I always love eating your pussy, babe. I guess it just gets me going.” he smiled.

“Okay, but as soon as your good to go again, I am so going to ruin you, Munson, just you wait”

“Can’t wait, babe.”