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1kook · 3 years

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viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air. WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide RATING m (18+) WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG

NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks

Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all.

There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms.

Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization.

“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”

The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him?

You’re not so sure.

It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows.

Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed.

“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”

You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”

She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”

At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did.

You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?”

Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that.

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin.

Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you.

So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes.

And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”

You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise.

Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well.

To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows.

Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments.

On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary.

(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)

“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight.

Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise.

“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”

You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s.

There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face.

Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.

“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth.

He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self.

But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first.

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”

You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”

His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups.

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.”

Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features.

Oh, you loved this man.

Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane.

He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway.

It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.

But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself?

One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on.

It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.”

“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car.

As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant.

It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you.

“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass.

The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass.

Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit.

As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks.

A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe.

Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear.

Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”

You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs.

“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck.

That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush.

Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.

You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river.

If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river.

“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”

He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”

You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!”

Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is.

“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.”

He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.”

“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song.

He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off.

Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign.

“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device.

It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen.

“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“

“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line.

“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?”

Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?”

You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.”

Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred?

He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend?

Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate.

Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell.

You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird!

Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at.

“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?”

A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words.

You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”

Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?”

Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.”

It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut.

He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead.

The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again.

“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account.

But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”

A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”

It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“

He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”

You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?”

Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”

You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now.

You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook.

Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“

He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.”

Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.”

Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms.

“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”

The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing.

There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes.

You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.”

Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”

You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”

“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”

The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”

Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat.

On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment.

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze.

Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river.

“I thought he was cool before.”

He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you.

In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth.

You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor.

Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?”

You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?”

He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”

“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own.

Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.”

You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“

“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.”

His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling.

It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen.

Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud.

He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief.

Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship.

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.)

Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man.

(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot.

You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”

The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim.

But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either.

“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.”

“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”)

Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes.

The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.”

He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement.

“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”

He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.”

Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes.

It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself.

Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone.

He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura.

Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“

“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.”

He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end.

“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”

Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.”

You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly.

Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is.

“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”

Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead.

“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them.

Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”

“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.”

At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.”

You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr.

Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet.

Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again.

He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”

Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—

Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue.

You whimper. “That hurt.”

“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey.

Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see.

Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck.

Of course.

You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss.

It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it.

And you’re all too ready to act on it.

Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy.

But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw.

“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare.

Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him.

The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds.

As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair.

Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips.

With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit.

Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders.

“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you.

He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull.

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around.

“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you.

He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up.

The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view.

It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings.

“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you.

Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely.

His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise.

Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.

He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.

Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.

He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth.

The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness.

Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest.

Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor.

He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes.

Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air.

For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead.

He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”

You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions.

“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”

A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”

The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—

Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been.

He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table.

Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”

You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt.

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”

It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again.

His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs.

Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”

And it’s true.

You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low.

You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.

Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”

Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you.

Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“

Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.

You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you.

He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix.

“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin.

It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction.

Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper.

“I kinda do—“

“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.

His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust.

“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”

You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly.

“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips.

“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface.

Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed.

“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy.

You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.

Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.

You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why.

It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home.

Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you.

You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad.

Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying.

“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses.

“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.

And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”

Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.

What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.

“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes.

(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)

Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside.

With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds.

“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly.

“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?”

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”

Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder.

Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you.

“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit.

“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you.

You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different.

“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”

The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap.

Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out.

“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”

Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath.

“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds.

The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.

“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.”

He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly.

“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”

You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you.

epilogue

Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic.

He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom.

Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet.

“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums.

“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“

“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?”

“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”

The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?”

There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you.

All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”

epi-epilogue

The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house.

You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise.

“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors.

“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.”

And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag.

“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”

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kirishoshego · 3 years

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Anniversary//Bakugo

!!!MINORS DNI!!! 18+ONLY!!! Summary: Bakugo and you have been dating for two years now and things went well, but lately he didn’t had much time for you, something he plans to apologize for on your anniversary Words: 3.2k+ TW:nsfw: unprotected sex, toys, anal play, anal, choking, spanking, degrading and praise, oral (him receiving), using a gag on you, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, lots of drool basically, at the end a cute little fluffy scene I’m sorry it’s a bit messy 😖 I hope you still enjoy it and wishing everyone a great start in the new week :) You sighed as you looked at yourself in the mirror, cladded in a red lace body suit with some cute flower details. It hugged your curves in all the right places, your waist adored by straps that clung to matching knee high socks. “Ugh, I don’t know Mina, I think it’s too much...” you said through the door, turning around to look at your backside. “Let me see,” before you could say anything she opened the door and slipped in, careful so no one else could peak inside. “Girl please, you look like a fucking masterpiece, you really make me question my sexuality right now,” she told you, looking you up and down. “Momo, what do you think?” Mina asked your sick friend on the other side of the screen, turning the camera to you. “You look absolutely stunning! If it’s the money I’ll send the amount you need to you on Venmo, just buy it, Bakugo will definitely fu-” she was cut of by a fit of coughs, taking a sip of her tea. “That’s not it, it’s just...” you trailed off, wrapping a lacy coat over your body before sitting down in the small changing room. “Oh please, that man is deeply in love with you, I met him a couple of days ago and he would only talk about you. He’s just stressed with Hero Work, with Kiri sick right now he’s a bit overworked, it has nothing to do with you,” said Momo. “Imagine being one of the strongest shields to ever exist and getting defeated by a badly cooked piece of chicken, poor Eijiro,” Mina shook her head. “You’re right, I worry too much... We actually want to visit him later tonight, I hope he’s a bit better, Bakugo wanted to cook chicken soup for him,” you told the girls with a smile on your lips. “See. Now please buy this or I’ll lose my mind,” your pink haired friend told you. “Fine, if it keeps you sane,” you laughed. Mina walks out of the stall so you have enough space to change back into your normal clothes, ready to go all in. Bakugo was indeed very stressed, coming home later than usual and barely talking to you. Not because he didn’t want to like you thought, but because he was so on edge that he was scared to snap at the one person who took some weight off his shoulder, not adding onto it. He knew it was shitty, that you didn’t like it when he shut off like that and especially push you away he does right now. So Bakugo hoped pulling you in close at night when he came back from work, noticing how hard you tried to stay away to see him, would tell you how much he appreciated you. When you woke up the spot next to you was already cold, the only sign of him laying next to you was the dent in his pillow. He had made you breakfast, leaving a note that read: I will be late again today princess, I love you x A small smile found its way on your face, he always left you notes when he’s stressed and sorry about not being able to spend as much time with you as he usually does. You kept them all in a small box in your night stand, reading through them when ever he was on a hero mission. You texted him good morning and thanked him for the breakfast, not awaiting a reply as you knew how busy he was. But much to your surprise his ringtone signaled you that he had send you a message: I’ll be at home by 11:30 p.m, see you then? Of course he will. You have been craving him for long now, your body and mind screaming his name, begging for his touch, begging for his hot kisses all over your body, wanted to feel him inside of you again, his skin on yours. You couldn’t remember the last time he bend you over and fucked you, his hand wrapped around your throat, reminding you who’s slut you are.

Now you had 13 hours to pass, so much time on hand and yet so little. You had so many ideas popping up in your head that you didn’t know where to start. You made yourself a list and hoped to finish everything before he came home so you could spend the night together nicely, partying into your special day. Once you were done with cleaning your living space you decided to go out and grab Bakugo’s favorite take out, not being able to pass by your local flower shop without grabbing a couple of new plants to fill your flat nicely. Still having two more hours to pass you decided it was time to prepare yourself. As the warm water fell onto your skin and making your muscles relax, your mind wandered off to the many times Bakugo had joined you in here, taking the stress out on you, the windows not only fogged from the hot water. After you had dried yourself and put on some lotion that left your skin extra soft you applied his favorite perfume, the one he gifted you on your birthday last year. You still had enough time left, drinking a cup of coffee so you’ll stay awake long enough, answering the girls group chat and texting Bakugo that you can’t wait to see him. You had send him a picture of you holding up the take out, letting him know he doesn’t has to worry about his dinner. He texted you back earlier, stating that he doesn’t know what looks more delicious, you or the food, with a text following suit after to let you know that his decision fell on you. The red lace outfit was hidden in one of your drawers, not wanting him to see it on accident. You slipped into it, twisting and turning in the mirror to make sure everything sat nicely. Not a moment too soon apparently as you could hear Bakugo’s key rattling and the door being opened. The light in your hallway was being turned on and you could hear Bakugo taking off his shoes and jacket, his bag falling on the floor as he walked into the living room. “Princess?” he called out, making your heart flutter and setting off a tingle between your legs. “I’m here,” you answered, hearing him walk to where you stood. “Holy shit,” he groaned as his crimson red eyes fell onto your in lace clad frame. His eyes wandered over every curve of your body, taking in the beautiful view he could never get enough from. “Come here baby,” he motioned for you walk up to him, licking his lips as you stopped right in front of him. “You look so good, I’m so fucking in love with you, do you know that?” “I love you too Katsuki,” you whispered against his lips that were mere moments away from crashing into yours. One of his warm hands cupped your cheek, drawing small circles on your skin as his other hand wandered down to the swell of your ass, squeezing it and delivering a slap onto the soft skin, pulling out a soft moan from your throat. His mouth now wandered along your jaw, kissing down your neck, licking over your sweet spot before biting down on it. Bakugo turned you around so you would face the broad mirror, his eyes meeting you in the reflective surface. You could see the glint in his eyes and knew you were in for a long nights, feeling him smirk against the crotch of your neck. He made sure your body was pressed into his so you feel his hard dick through his pants. The blond stopped kissing you, watching your face twist in pleasure as his hand slipped into your underwear, middle finger sliding into your wet walls, collecting some of your wetness before pulling out again and licking his finger clean. Making sure your eyes were on him the whole time he now grabbed your face between his other hand, turning it to him so he could kiss you, his tongue coated in his spit and your juice. The blond returned his hand back to were you most craved it, flicking your clit every now and then to hear your sinful mewls swallowed by his mouth on yours. He had enough of muffling your moans so he turned your face to the mirror again, ordering you to keep looking at yourself with his hand wrapped around throat, his mouth licking and biting along your shoulder. His fingers were circling your clit over and over again until he heard your breath hitch, your hands now gripping his underarms tightly. “Are you close Princess?” he asked you, a smug look on his face as a whimper of a ‘yes’ left your puffy lips. “Wanna cum? Already? That’s a bit pathetic, don’t you think?” he groaned, biting your earlobe gently as his fingers picked up speed, his hard on throbbing in his now tight pants. You couldn’t help yourself but agree with him, how could you not? He knew your body better than anyone, knew how to make you cum within minutes. “It’s okay, you can cum, I neglected you for so long, hm? Be a good girl and show me that pretty ahegao face you make,” he slapped your clit before dipping a finger into your needy cunt, his thumb now drawing eights on your sensitive nub, sending you over the edge. “There we go,” he didn’t stop there, making you ride out your orgasm before his finger disappeared from your wet core, turning you around again to kiss you, chuckling at your pitiful whines. Always so needy for him. “Go grab your special box and come into the living room, I’ll be waiting for you,” Bakugo told you with a husky voice and your eyes landed on his dick imprint, mouth watering. You didn’t need to be told twice, darting straight for the hidden silver box somewhere in your shared wardrobe. When you entered the living room you noticed that Bakugo had striped down, now laying on the couch in his full glory. You made your way over to him, putting the box down on the couch table before crawling on top of him. He made you sit, his meat right between your labia, as he ground your hips onto him. Pulling you in for another kiss, his tongue slipped into your mouth and once again his hands were on your ass. How he loved squeezing it, massaging it between his big hands and feeling your body shutter whenever his fingers would stroker over the rim of your ass. Bakugo flipped the two of you over, him now on top of you as his lips wandered down to your chest, licking your nipples through the lacy material, his hand opening the buttons of your body suit and exposing your wet cunt to him. He sat up, looking you up and down yet again, not able to get enough of how good you looked, he was so lucky, he thought to himself. Katsuki opened the box, roaming through the different toys before pulling out the ones he liked to use the most on you. “Ass in the air,” he ordered, pulling out the lube, dripping it on the black plug as you arched your back the way he loved it. He bit onto your left ass cheek before spitting onto your puckered hole, before you could feel the cold tip off the plug dipping into you. He twisted and turned it, not pushing it in completely but more and more every time he went in, cock throbbing whenever another moan slipped out of your mouth. With one final push the thick toy was buried snug inside of you, the dime adoring the end glowing in the red of the LED lights. Bakugo tapped on it a couple of times, wiggling it slightly looking at your glistening pussy, your wetness dripping down on the fabric beneath you. “Hands,” he tapped your back, making you fold your arms behind it as anticipation grew inside your stomach. You wouldn’t dare to be bratty with him, not now. Way too many times had it backfired badly, leaving you hanging for sometimes a whole week and you couldn’t handle that happening right now, you were going to be his good girl so he would fuck you senseless. Taking out the robes Bakugo tied your hands up, making sure they were tight enough before pulling out a paddle but deciding against it. If you were going to have an imprint on your ass then he wants it to be his hands, marking you as his in a place for only him to see. If only your friends knew how dirty you were. He held you down with his hand between your shoulders as his hands abused your jiggling ass cheeks, spanking you over and over again. He might set off his quirk on the last spank, to make sure you couldn’t sit without thinking about the way he makes you feel. Without warning he slammed into you, making you scream out his name. Bakugo pulled your body towards his with every thrust, his hand on your wrists, showing no mercy as he pounded into your cunt. He could sense you were embarrassed, biting your lip to muffle your moans, so your boyfriend pulled out completely, letting your upper body fall onto the couch. He grabbed the ball gag out of the box and pulled you up by your hair, wrapping it around your head. “None of that, you’re a filthy little whore, stop trying to hide that,” the blond kissed your forehead before returning to his previous spot. His tip dipped into your wet walls, now teasing as if to warn you not to pull anything funny anymore. He knew he made you feel good but hearing it from you spurred him on even more. The living room was one of his favorite places to fuck you as he could see watch you in the reflection of the window and right now all he could see was how he fucked you stupid. Drool dripped down your chin and chest, your tongue out as the ball wouldn’t allow you to close your mouth. He loved seeing you so stuffed, every hole used as he used you however he wanted. Bakugo pulled on your restrains harder, pulling your body flush against him so could wrap his hands around you throat, squeezing tightly, your walls around him doing the same. It was his goal to make you cum as quick as possible, as many times as he could before he would. Taking a vibrator into his other hand he pushed it down on your clit, watching your eyes grew wide. There was no doubt in his mind that you pushed yourself down on his dick even harder, chasing your second high that crashed down with in seconds. Not waiting for you to come down he pulled out your plug, slowly inserting himself where the toy was just seconds ago, the vibrator falling onto the couch as his hands gripped your waist tightly. His crimson red eyes watched his thick shaft disappearing inside of you, ass jiggling every time he was balls deep inside of your tight hole. “Fuck, you’re such a cock hungry slut, aren’t you? My good little bitch, so needy for her man to fuck her hard, hm?” he knew you couldn’t answer him, not in your current state. You looked so messy, mascara stains all over your cheeks as your tears mixed with your drool while he choked you hard enough to have you wear a turtle neck for the following days, unless you wanted everyone to know what he did. Katsuki untied your hands, pushing them down next to your head, his hands wrapped around your wrists as his body was now pressed against yours, his smell all you can register next to the extreme amount of pleasure filling every inch of your body. “Gonna cum for me again? Can you do that?” he moaned into your ear, his hips slamming into yours. All you could was hum in agreement, feeling another knot in your stomach ready to explode. The muscular man kissed up and down your neck, feeling you clench around him, legs shaky as you were barely able to hold yourself up anymore. Bakugo found the still vibrating toy, pushing it into you this time and thrusting it in and out sloppily, making you scream out his name as good as you could while coming undone yet again. He pulled out, standing up and stroking himself in front of you. “I’m not done yet, on your knees,” he ordered, pulling you down and propping you up the way he wanted. Unclasping the band that kept the ball inside your mouth he didn’t waste any time before pushing his swollen cock past your wet lips and down your throat. His hand was in your hair, pushing you down so the tip of your nose hit the skin above his meat. Bakugo thrusted in and out, your hooded eyes locked with his. All you could do is push out your tongue, knowing he loved you like that, on your knees, fucked stupid with only his dick and pleasure in your mind. The way Katsuki would grown every time he went down your throat made your pussy throb, craving more. It didn’t take long for him to pull out and cum all over your face. “Don’t swallow just yet, let me have a nice look first,” he told you, watching the vibrator slip out of your dripping cunt, your other hole clenching around nothing. He felt himself already hardening at the view again, but he had to take care of you first before making you ride him. He picked you up in his strong arms, kissing your forehead. “You did so well for me princess, I’m so proud of you, let’s get you cleaned up, sounds good?” he asked, already on his way to the bathroom. “You won’t break up with me, right?” you suddenly asked him timidly, making him chuckle, the doubts of before filling your mind. “Definitely not, I plan on doing quite the opposite of it actually,” he told you, watching you as you tried to make out what he just told you. “It means, I want to marry you dumbass, of course only if you’re up for it?” he planed on asking you tomorrow but he just couldn’t wait, the ring in his jacket basically burning a hole through the pocket. “You’re not joking, right?” you asked him as he sat you down in the bathtub, pulling you into his body so he can clean you. “No Idiot, I mean it, you’re everything I ever wanted, you’re so patient with me and so understanding and I couldn’t handle a day without you by my side, so Y/N, I’m asking you will you become Mrs. Bakugo?” “Of course!” you told him with the biggest smile he has ever seen, eyes sparkling full of love as you pulled him the best you could, wincing as the pain of your bruising asscheeks made itself noticeable. “Good, it would have been really embarrassing to return the ring tomorrow,” he told you, kissing your lips.

©Kirishoshego//do not repost on any plattform

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kookiessugababy · 3 years

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Another Reason To Hate You (Kim Namjoon) // 18+ nsfw!!

Warnings 🚨- aggressive sex// no protection//edging//teasing//slut shaming kink

-> scenario: you have never gotten along with Namjoon, despite your close relationship with his band. With the boys apartment under refurbishment, you find them staying at your own place- where things become steamy between you and your foe in the shower room.

Hope you enjoy <3

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The previous night was sleepless, the muggy and warm nights creeping upon your Seoul apartment. Despite the discomfort it caused, you had spent the restless night watching movies with the boys; who you could currently now hear blasting music in the next room. They were stammering along loudly to Min Yoongis rap lyrics, Hoseoks voice yelling above them in blatant confidence - the others mixing up all the words in a cacophony of mutters. The seven were crashing at your apartment for a unchartered days with theirs under refurbishment and under the decision of not seeing you for a while, they invited themselves to reside. Nothing in you had a problem with this- you thoroughly loved their lively company and after all they were your closest friends. However, it did mean spending more time with Namjoon than you could handle- the one member who you had a questionable relationship with. Something about him had always frustrated you, the pair of you never flourished in the way you had with the rest. It was different at first; both of you trying to make the effort to amend your obvious differences after Jin introduced you to the band- but now it was left to settle in disinterest. Avoidance was key for both parties; snappy unpleasantness arising every time you engaged…so to the point he was barely an acquaintance to you. With no full understanding why you loathed him with the power you did, you always found yourself paradoxically attracted to him. There was something about acknowledging a mutual abhorrence for someone that makes them more desirable- more hungry for their attention. Alongside this tearing self conflict, you had a constant profusion of work to complete for your boss, alacritous deadlines prolonging your daily shifts. Almost making the company unbearable, relentless hours meant the boys made you stay up most of the evening to reconcile with them- and with the summer months glowing, sleep was rare anyway.

Wrapping yourself in a cream towel, your damp hair fell to your shoulders as you scanned yourself in the face of the mirror. Water droplets cascaded lines on your cheeks, eyelashes catching those stray from your forehead. Your skin looked soft and touchable in the white glow of the light- accenting your expression. With the silence shattering, the door creaked under the sound of knocks from the other side- shuffling echoing from under the small gap of the hinges. “Jin? Is that you?” You assumed- the only member who had a tendency to bother you at such inconvenient time- but you were met with silence as the seconds passed. Before you could question the sound again, the door flung open; presenting a rather flustered tall figure with muscular arms and broad shoulders. His hair was pushed back and neat, a small t shirt revealing his collar bones and comfortable lounging shorts fitting his toned thighs perfectly. Despite a familiar sense of hatred wash over you, you found yourself startled at the sudden entrance of Namjoon- your slightly exposed body causing your nerves to fire.

He stared at you in the heat of the room, the steam rising between the two of you as it entangled with the strange tension. ”Namjoon… what are you doing” you asked nonchalantly. Remaining silent you huffed, slamming your hairbrush onto the bench. “Get out” you snapped- but his reply concluded unhelpful as he suddenly pushed you to the shower wall, pinning your arms roughly to the wet tiles as the towel fell from your grip. “Don’t talk to me like that. I’m sick of your bratty attitude.” Under his stare, you stood naked and exposed to him- your nipples hardening as he searched your curves in such an unexpected manner. You felt the need for obedience under his power- all sense of anger towards him washed with this new sense of frustration that mirrored lust you were sure you had felt for him before. “I hate you, y/n. You make me so fucking mad” he growled, his mouth close to yours. He tugs your lips with his teeth, nipping your bottom lip to cause a slight pain. Wincing at the sensation, you felt his hands grow tighter around your wrist- pushing his hips towards you to prove his hardened state. “Then get out if you hate me that much mm?” You teased- his anger obvious in his eyes. Intertwined with this, however, you sensed a blanket of lust wash over him- his intentions almost becoming obvious to you. “How do you not expect me to ruin you when I know your pretty ass is naked in the room next door? Mmm?” humming he pecks the sides of your neck, leading you to arch your back under the tingling marks he leaves behind. Snaking his arms down yours, which remain raised against the wall, his large palms make their way down to your breasts, fondling with them in a way nobody had before. He made you feel innocent with his dirty smirks, the frustration he felt towards you obviously preparing to be channelled in a way that would leave you breathless. You moaned slightly as he pinched your nipples, twisting them slightly in his fingers as he continued to kiss along your collarbones- teasing his tongue along them as he glanced up at you. You felt your heat grow wet as you gritted your teeth, avoiding contentment of knowing he was pleasuring you- but your desperation only grew with your confinement.

Evidently picking up on your behaviour, his fingers now snakes to your clit- slapping it harshly as you bucked your hips in return. “What a little slut mmm? Getting wet for someone you can’t even bare a conversation with. You must be desperate”. Degrading you only soaked your core as his fingers ran circles around your clit- chasing the feeling of your pussy as he pushed sped up to a painful pace. Stifled groans spilled from you; still in an attempt to silence yourself. Seeing your struggling state gave him permission to dig his fingers deep inside of your hole with a sudden movement- your body jolting under his forceful fingering. Only two fingers made it into your tight hole, moving rapidly between your thighs as your breath hitched. His stare was familiar, the way he looked at you in near disgust was showing- making you feel exposed and submissive to his annoyance with you. “You deserve to have that little pussy of yours throbbing y/n. How dare you get me hard like this.” His breathe easy just as unsteady as your own as he paced his fingers in and out, your juices dripping down his digits with every pulse. You couldn’t mutter a reply as you found yourself riding his hand in desperation- feeling so small under his touch and power.

Closing your eyes you felt his fingers leave you- the warm steam hitting your hole as he edged you from your high. Whining quietly, just in earshot of him he uttered a small laugh of success as he undid his pants. “Turn around, y/n. I’ll teach you how to be good for me” he sounded strain as he spoke, his dick now spilling with precum- yup swollen and sensitive. Spinning around on your heels you faced the tiles- your chest pressing against them as he lined himself up with your pussy. Rubbing his warm cock on your heat, he separated your lips with his tip- running himself up and down where you needed him most. “Namjoon i- need you” you finally cried, pushing back your hips as he adjusted his grip to your waist- thrusting into you with one sudden movement. The pace was unimaginable- your breasts clapping against the wall as his balls hit you again and again- the harshness of each movement sending you into a moaning mess. You could barely think straight as you could only focus on the throbbing of his cock inside of your tight hole- hitting spots you didn’t know existed with his length. He filled you up so well as he pounded you, his head tilted back as your ass slapped against him. Your heat was soaked with the feelings of frustration being taken out upon your bent body- your stomach turning at the simple thought of the man behind you. As your walls clenched yet again, you let out a cry while your stomach flipped to its side. Unable to hold yourself for longer, tears streamed from your eyes as your mouth fell open at the repetition of his tip hitting your g spot.

“C-cum!” You cried- desperate for a release of some sort. Despite you feeling Namjoons dick twitch inside of you, his warmth already spilling- he parted the friction from your walls as he pulled himself out. The absence was unbearable as he came all over your back- holding his cock with one hand as your ass now dripped with his stain. Cursing to himself he inspected your arched back- your ass sticking out and coated in his mess and you whined and cried pathetically as he edged you yet again. Gently, his hands ran to your ass, cupping the cheeks as he leaned over you- kissing your cheek softly. “You poor thing. Stop pretending you hate me and I’ll let you cum next time.” His voice almost sounded sinister, chuckling in your ear as he placed a few more welcomed kisses on your cheeks. “God Namjoon you gave me another reason to hate you”

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

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honeymoonjin · 4 years

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 7.3k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: filmed sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, unprotected sex, edging, orgasm denial, teasing, dirty talk, dom!yoongi, use of sex toys, cumplay, multiple orgasms, creampie, oral (f receiving) face riding/sitting, use of the words slut, cumdump/cumsleeve and degradation in an entirely consensual context, also they drink in this episode so it involves sex under the influence of alcohol, but once again entirely consensual, overstimulation, cumeating (it is a yoongi chapter after all)

dedicated to my sfhs girls, everyone in the villa discord, and everyone who submitted truths and/or dares. i apologise if yours didn’t get drawn, there were over eighty of them

DAY SEVENTEEN

Waking up on Wednesday is the calmest you’ve felt in a while. Even though it’s not the start of the week, it still feels fresh, and you slept far better last night than you did before elimination.

That being said, fate apparently gives you very limited time to breathe, because the second you open your bedroom door you get a fright that just about stops your heart.

Min Yoongi, fist falling awkwardly in the open space, blinks at you. “Good morning.”

“Jesus,” you curse, hand pressed to your sternum as your heart races beneath it, wordlessly stepping back to let him in.

Yoongi slips past you smoothly. “I know the resemblance is startling, but we have been living together for two weeks, Y/n. I’m hurt.”

You scoff as he makes himself comfortable on the edge of your bed. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He shrugs, looking more casual than usual in a faded red tee and a pair of jeans rolled up at the ankles. His hair, newly mint, sticks up at odd angles like the first thing he’d done this morning was tip out of bed and come down to your door. It just makes him all the more endearing. “I have a proposition,” he announces vaguely, pulling out a sleek black object from his front pocket and resting it on the duvet beside him.

You narrow your eyes at the foreign object. Made of what must be matte silicon, there's the slightest hint of silver that circles an on-button at the base of it. Although it's not particularly long, it's wide and rounded, and it doesn't take much brainpower to work out where a toy like that might go.

Yoongi grins as your eyes rove over the toy. "Perhaps less of a proposition, and more of a challenge," he drawls slowly. A single graceful finger runs up and down the length of the black egg, keeping your gaze locked on it. "I'm gonna fuck you now, sweetheart, and if you can keep my cum inside you all day, I'll give you a reward. How does that sound?"

You suck in a breath, eyes flying up to his again. You're nodding before you even really process the implication of his words, but he's already quirking a finger to beckon you.

"Come sit," he commands breezily. He's already hard when you straddle him, your knees braced on the duvet and arms linking around his neck. Glancing up at you, you're taken by the honeyed way his eyes blink up at you with bemusement. "You're very obedient this morning," Yoongi quips, "is this why people like morning sex?"

You scoff, rolling your clothed core against him. "Hurry up and put your dick in me if you're going to, Min."

"Never mind, then," he sighs, but happily slips open his belt buckle with one hand, the other gripping the flesh of your thigh as he frees his cock from the confines of his jeans.

Still in a loose oversized sleep shirt and panties, it's easy enough for Yoongi to just tug the fabric over your core to one side, fingers sliding through your already-sodden folds.

"Didn't take much, did it, sweetheart?" he asks with a wry grin, and your cheeks heat, burying your face in the crook of his neck even as his deft fingers spread your wetness over you.

"Stop making fun of me," you whine, breath hitching when he slips a single finger deep inside you.

"Oh, but I'm not," he murmurs, voice just as languid as his pumping motions. "It's fucking hot."

You bite down hard on your bottom lip, Yoongi beginning to relax your muscles with a second finger, hooking and twisting and curling them in all the ways that make your legs weak.

"Does it feel good, sweetheart?" You can feel more than see Yoongi's smirk when you nod hastily, grinding against his fingers. "But it doesn't sound like it. Why can't I hear you, hm?"

A free hand presses lightly but firmly at your jaw, lifting your face away from him. You swallow down another moan as his thumb brushes just once over your sensitive clit.

Held up across from Yoongi, you can't avoid the way he frowns. "That won't do," he decides, before his fingers tug down your bottom lip. Without a single falter in his other hand fucking you, now three fingers in, Yoongi hooks his index and middle fingers behind your bottom teeth to keep your mouth open wide for him.

The next time he swipes your clit, you can't hold back the wanton groan that escapes. Yoongi's eyes positively light up at the sound as he fucks you harder, jostling you on his lap and making every little noise from your throat magnify.

When he eventually removes his sopping fingers from your core, you whine unabashedly at the absence. The heat that had built up, the beginnings of an orgasm, quickly dissipate.

“Patience,” Yoongi chastises in a voice thick with humour, before lining himself up at your entrance and swiftly pushing you down onto him.

You groan as he fills you, unable to stop the drool that’s begun to spill over onto his fingers. Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind the messiness, however, using the leverage to keep you steady once he starts to fuck up into you.

Your hands fly from the back of his neck to his shoulders, stuttered cries punched out of you with every bounce. Certainly not the biggest member in the household, Yoongi did know how to use his cock to make you melt around him and he quickly makes your fingers and toes curl with pleasure.

Even as he maintains his dominance with the unspoken ease he always carries, it’s undeniable that he’s close with the way he beings to lose his composure. Whether it’s his freshly-dyed hair curling at his temples with the sweat of his exertion or the grunts that slipped past gritted teeth, you love those little glimpses of the animal that wrecked you last week.

When his pace stutters into a desperate jackhammer that leaves you breathless, you know it’s only a matter of time before he spills inside you. Close yourself, you slip a hand down seeking your clit for the needed stimulation to push you over the edge.

The second you feel a glimmer of hot pleasure, however, a hand snakes around your wrist and pulls it away. Your eyes widen, drool spilling messily down Yoongi’s other hand as you babble. “Ngo, ‘o, p’ease,” you slur out, “‘oongi, wan’ cum.”

Your whine gets louder as Yoongi responds to your complaints by slowing down to a deep grind, breathing heavily in his chest. “What are our rules, sweetheart? You have to keep my cum inside you all day to win your reward, don’t you? Now be a good girl and let me fill you up.”

Unlike you, Yoongi has clearly still retained that edge of orgasm, and it doesn’t take much before he’s shuddering with a groan, painting your insides white. Finally lifting his fingers off your bottom teeth, he pushes them further in your mouth, instructing you to suck them clean of your own saliva.

Wrapping your lips around them with a dissatisfied whine, you grind your hips fruitlessly against him as he slowly begins to soften. No hope of cumming this morning, you resign yourself to the challenge he’s set you and let him tip you gently onto the bed, standing himself at the edge still inside you.

You blink up at him, licking your swollen lips once he retracts his fingers from your mouth, picking up the small black egg you’d almost forgotten about. “Is it games?” you ask blearily, sniffling when he pulls out of you.

With one of your legs held up to keep you at a good angle, Yoongi starts to push the rounded vibe inside you, aided by your arousal and his own release. “Is what games?” he asks softly, an airy chuckle leaving his mouth when the toy slips inside you, making you moan at the pressure.

“The prompts,” you explain, clenching around the intrusion that’s plugged Yoongi’s cum inside you. “Work hard, play hard. Are they different games or something?”

Yoongi pauses. “I- I’m not sure if it’s beneficial for me to confirm or deny that,” he admits slowly, before clearing his throat and backing up, letting your legs dangle off the side of the bed. “Can you stand? I’m just about ready for breakfast. Nothing like a good orgasm to build my appetite.”

You send him a scowl as you stand on wobbly legs. “Now you’re just rubbing it in,” you accuse, “this reward better be something special.” Even as you adjust your panties back over you, you’re expecting the silicon egg to come out at any moment. As it is, you feel like you might go crazy before the day’s out.

The doctor makes no effort to hide his satisfaction, eyes shamelessly running over you as you squirm in place. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you today,” he announces lowly, buckling his jeans back up. “If you want your reward you better not take it out or get yourself off. Your pleasure belongs to me today, sweetheart.”

“Yes, sir,” you mouth off sarcastically, even as the wetness between your thighs increases.

While Yoongi may have refused to confirm your theory about the prompts being games, it seems games are the theme of the day regardless.

By the time you get dressed - gingerly, like any wrong move would send the egg slipping out in a torrent of cum - and meet the others downstairs, you see the lounge has been cleared to make way for a misshapen pile of packaged snacks and a bowl full of slips of folded paper.

Taehyung, Namjoon, Jin and Hoseok are already surrounding the offering, cross-legged on the carpet. Yoongi, who’d come down before you, haunts the coffee machine. Just as you do a headcount and wonder where Jimin’s gotten to, the man himself approaches from the shadowy depths of the walk-in pantry, two bottles of wine held in one hand by their necks, and a six-pack of soju in the other.

Jimin jumps in surprise when he looks up to see Yoongi just in front of him, sending the older man a small smile. “Good morning.”

Yoongi eyes up the liquor suspiciously. “I suppose it must be.”

“Sejin dropped them off.”

“The bottles?”

“The games,” Jimin emphasises, pointing with a hand laden with bottles. “Jungkookie, Jin-hyung and I just thought we should make it more fun. Didn’t they tell you?”

Yoongi grumbles but doesn’t answer, cradling his coffee like it’s a lifeline and hobbling over to sit on one of the couches, pushed back to give more space.

Wary of your every step, you sit yourself down in a gap between Jungkook and Namjoon. The youngest perks up and turns to you, looking comfy yet stylish in a modern hanbok, black to make the red in his hair pop.

“It’s drunken truth or dare,” Jungkook declares, feet tapping the carpet in excitement. “Sejin said the audience wants more sexy games.”

Jin clicks his tongue. “He never said sexy.”

Jungkook doesn’t bat an eye, still grinning at you. “The ‘sexy’ was implied.”

“I’m sure it was,” you allow with a chuckle. It doesn’t take long for everyone to find their places, Jungkook turning to his other side and tugging on Yoongi’s trouser leg until he sits on the carpet with the rest of you.

Following the circle along, Jimin sits to Yoongi’s left, then Jin, Hoseok, Taehyung and finally back around to Namjoon who’s on your right.

“Alright, how is this supposed to work?” Yoongi asks reluctantly. “And how can I rig this to retain at least a modicum of my dignity?”

“Here’s the deal,” Hoseok announces, “we take turns picking truths or dares from the bowl. If you don’t want to do it, you take off a piece of clothing. Questions?”

Taehyung hesitantly lifts his hand, staring at the dom to his right. “What if we run out of clothes?” Though he’s moderately dressed in thick sweatpants and a long-sleeved tee, Taehyung doesn’t really have any layers, and he’s already barefoot.

Hoseok shrugs. “Then you play the rest of the game naked, I guess. Stripping is the whole raison d'etre of slutty game nights. What part of that don’t you get?”

Taehyung pauses. “The raisin part.”

“He’s saying the whole point of games like these is stripping,” Jimin explains quickly, clapping once to get everyone’s attention. “Okay! Let’s start. I didn’t have hands free to bring glasses so unless someone else wants to help out, we’re drinking from the bottles. Who wants what?”

It doesn’t take long for the alcohol to be dished out. Taehyung and Hoseok both scamper around like children and end up mixing plain soju with Fanta or sprite, sipping at the fizzing mixture as they giggle away. Jimin is making his way through one of the two wine bottles himself, a pretty moscato rosé that matches the baby pink lip balm he’s wearing. Namjoon has the other bottle, though he pours a full glass in a sturdy-looking coffee mug and pawns the rest off back to the middle. Jungkook and you wordlessly split a flavoured soju, something sweet and fruity with the classic burn at the back of your throat, and Jin sticks with an original one, leaving Yoongi the only one without alcohol.

The man himself takes a long swill of coffee. “Someone better pick a dare then.” Making no effort to actually help himself, he waits for Hoseok to wiggle on his knees to the centre of the circle to grab the bowl, keeping it secure on his lap as he blindly roots around for a slip of paper.

His subconscious grin of excitement fades the second he picks one and reads it. “My fucking luck,” he curses, before changing his voice to a monotone drawl. “Allow Jimin to give you a makeover. If Jimin draws this, pick another member.” He glances up in pain. “Can I pick someone else anyway?”

“That’s not the dare, Hobi!” Jungkook protests in an excited squeal. “Are you gonna let him do it?”

Jimin remains perfectly poised, simply arching an eyebrow when Hoseok sends him an accusatory glare. Like he’s disappointed with the calm reaction from his rival, Hoseok huffs and silently tugs off a sock. “He’s not getting anywhere near my face,” the dom insists, “I just know he’d make me look ugly on purpose.”

“The only way I could do that is by using no makeup at all,” Jimin petulantly responds. “Anyway, now that you’ve contaminated the air with your bare foot, can we move on?”

Hoseok huffs, but thrusts the bowl to his right, handing it to Jin. The therapist sighs like the discourse personally drains him, then picks a slip from the top, opening it with one hand. Immediately, he breaks out into a pealing laugh, shoulders shaking as he slaps his knee with his free hand. “Do a cartwheel.”

“What the fuck?” Hoseok shrieks. “Why didn’t I get one like that?”

“Can you do a cartwheel, Hoseok?” Jin questions calmly.

Hoseok’s mouth gapes. “I- no.”

“I guess you were doomed to be one sock down either way, then,” Jin consoles. “I, on the other hand, made it onto my high school cheerleading team.” He steps away to a patch of open carpet. “Well; I was the reserve. I never actually did any games.”

That’s the only warning you get before Jin is launching his torso to the ground, legs flying up and flailing as his hands meet the ground. On landing, his feet come down awkwardly, sending him sprawling onto the back of the couch. “Fuck,” he gasps out, catching his balance, “that was way easier when I was small.”

Jin returns to his place with a smug smile, leaving the room in startled silence. “What? Next person.”

Jimin takes the bowl and pulls out a piece of paper before passing it to his right in front of Yoongi. “Alright, I have…” His eyes rake over, plush lips moving. “What do you hope you can do most before you have to leave the house? Uh… I’d like to try something for the first time.”

Taehyung pouts. “Isn’t that a bit boring, Min?”

Jimin shrugs. “I guess I’m on the other end of the spectrum to Namjoon-hyung. It’s hard to find anything I haven’t done before. I’ve been working for Bangasm for years, and doing porn for even longer. Eventually it feels like everything is the same. I’d like to have something completely new, that I can look back on as special.” He clears his throat loudly and nods his head at Yoongi. “Your turn.”

Yoongi places his now-empty coffee mug on the carpet in front of him, rooting around carelessly for a piece of white. His eyebrows lift past the overhanging swoop of mint. “What sex act have you done that you’ll never do again?” Taking a second to think, Yoongi pushes his tongue to the side of his cheek. “Mm, my best friend and I once experimented with each other just before high school graduation. We were both well over 18 by then, but going to a catholic all boys high school, we were pretty repressed and dumb about those kinda things. He tried to suck me off and threw up right on my dick.”

You cringe violently, the sips of soju you’d already drunk sitting sour in your stomach. “Fuck, that’s so gross, Yoongi. Did he like, say sorry?”

Yoongi grimaces. “Ah, not at the time. He started crying and I had to comfort him while I was still covered in- yeah, I’d honestly kinda blocked that out until this question reminded me. Fuck. Okay, next person, I need to re-forget about that.”

None of you can blame him once he reaches for a straight soju and takes a few deep gulps, throat bobbing.

Jungkook’s next in line, looking a little green in the face from Yoongi’s anecdote. “Right, okay, lemme-” With his eyes scrunched shut, he selects his slip of paper and opens it up. “Get the person to your left in the pool within the next minute.”

Yoongi, too preoccupied with chugging as much liquor as he reasonably can, doesn’t pay attention until he’s deftly snagged around the waist and thrown over Jungkook’s shoulder, the half-empty bottle splashing out onto the carpet.

“Hey! What do you think you’re- Jungkook, where are we going?”

Jungkook races out through the back door faster than any of you can keep up with, Taehyung and Hoseok jogging after him to watch from the doorway.

Even from your spot on the floor, you can hear an almighty shriek followed by a splash, and some watery yelling. By the time Yoongi stomps back in, drenched, Namjoon has some towels from the linen closet.

Without the usual sexual tension of a truth and dare game, Yoongi strips off his wet clothes and wraps himself grouchily in as many towels as possible, the final one over his head and tucked under his chin.

Looking like a drenched cat, Yoongi scowls and shivers. “Can I at least go upstairs and get into some dry clothes, or do I have to risk a second dunk?”

Jungkook shrugs airly, passing the bowl down the line. “The risk of me dunking you again is pretty low, hyung. But never zero.”

The plastic bowl now rests in front of you. You eye the folded slips inside warily, before picking one roughly in the middle of the pile. Unfolding the small rectangle, you let out a week laugh once your eyes scan the neatly handwritten words. “Trade shirts with the person on your right.”

“That’s you, Joonie.” You rake over Namjoon’s getup with a wary eye. Luckily, he’s wearing a forest green tee over some chunky camo pants. You think he’s probably going to be worse off than you having to put on your own thin sweater. “Let’s swap.”

Slipping it off, you shiver in the cold air and feel the hairs on your arms stand up on end. Ignoring the rapt eyes of the others, you chuck it into Namjoon’s lap and watch his stomach and biceps flex as he lifts his own shirt over his head.

The fabric is cotton, but feels so silken against your skin, still warm from his body heat. While the hem of his shirt pools in your lap, your sweater on him strains around his waist, a solid two or three inches above his waistband.

You can’t help but let out a chuckle at the corded body, thick chest and meaty forearms barely being restrained by the slightly fuzzy pastel yellow sweater. “Looking good, Joon,” you jibe, poking him right where the skin of his hips is exposed.

He winces, carding a hand through his grey-silver hair, now ruffled from the closet change. “I’m sorry if it gets stretched out of shape after this. Is it my go?” Without waiting for an answer, he shakes up the bowl and retrieves a piece of paper from the bunch. “Jin’s cooking or Yoongi’s cooking.”

The colour drains from Namjoon’s face at the two men staring him down impassively, one of them sitting poised with an expectant glare, the other shivering slightly through layers of damp towels, round face poking out of the terrycloth with a warning frown.

“Um… I-” Namjoon gulps, and begins to undo the strap on his watch, leaving his wrist bare and slightly pale. “Tae, you’re up.”

Even without either man receiving the victory, they both seem mollified, Yoongi taking the opportunity to gather the towels and rush upstairs quickly. A small wet patch is left on the carpet in his place, Jimin and Jungkook on either side laying some fresh towels on top to soak it up.

Before you even notice Taehyung getting a slip, he’s hooting in excitement, jumping up to stand. “Design an outfit for a member in the house with random clothing in the villa!” He eyes up the people in the circle before gasping. “Wait! No! I’ll go do Yoongi while he’s changing!”

Like an excited puppy, he’s off up the stairs, chasing after the doctor.

“Do we...wait for him?” Jungkook asks uncertainly. His chest jerks with a hiccup, having finished most of your shared bottle of soju.

Leaning forward with a shrug, you snag another bottle, cracking open the lid and taking a sip of the refreshing green apple taste. Not your favourite, but you were just tipsy enough to not care all that much.

As the rest of you mind your time waiting for the absent two to return, some of the others begin on the snacks. Although Jimin has passed halfway on his moscato, he seems perfectly composed as he and Jin share a packet of rice snacks. Jungkook nibbles on the ends of a handful of Pocky sticks, wobbling slightly on the spot. Hoseok’s face is bright red even though he’s just been sipping at his fizzy soju concoction, so he gets a bag of Doritos and begins crunching madly.

Namjoon is holding his mug of white wine in both hands, so he stays snackless, shifting and sneaking glances at the stairs. Still looking comically beefy in your fitted sweater and camo pants with a million pockets, part of you thinks perhaps he was put out that he wasn’t the one to get an opportunity to change clothes again into something that fit a little better.

It doesn’t take long for a frantic thud-thud-thud echo through the room as Taehyung comes bounding down the stairs. “And introducing…!” he shouts cheerily. “The newest dom of the Red Room, Min Yoongiiii!”

When Yoongi comes down, the reaction he was expecting probably wasn’t cooing, but you can’t help it. Taehyung has done well to pick out glossy leather pants, thick-soled black boots, a white shirt and even a leather harness around the top of his chest, all the things that spoke to a professional dom, but on Yoongi it just looks like a sheep in wolf’s clothing.

Hoseok, clearly the original owner of the clothes judging by his gobsmacked look of recognition, is far taller than Yoongi, so the shirt drowns his torso and the pants are rolled up at the ends. All in all, he looks so tiny and sweet, hair still damp and tangled, that you imagine the dom clothes just served to make him appear cuter in contrast.

He scowls as he sits down, plump bottom lip sticking out, and reaches for his near-empty bottle of soju with a huff. “I hate this game,” he declares before taking a swig.

“You have had bad luck, hyung,” Hoseok admits, “I’m sure it’ll turn. And speaking of turns; it’s mine now!”

As Hoseok begins digging around for his, taking a dramatically long time just to make everyone groan, your pocket vibrates. Reaching down to check your phone, you suck in a breath when you see the text from Yoongi. It displays a single arrow pointing up, followed by an unambiguous now.

You clear your throat just as Hoseok picks a slip. “I’m just going to the bathroom, you can keep going without me.”

Apparently not concerned about subtlety, Yoongi just stands up and follows, his eyes dark on you.

Hoseok lets out a wolf whistle that makes your cheeks heat, before apparently giving up and returning to the game. You manage to make it upstairs with little fanfare, but Yoongi’s hand snakes around your wrist and his body cages you against the wall in the upstairs hallway before you can make it to your room.

Your breath hitches as his eyes burn into you like twin furnaces. “Have you been a good girl for me?” he asks in a low voice, lip quirking when you nod. “Let me check.”

Your eyes widen. “Here?”

Yoongi jerks his chin towards the sturdy metal banister that runs across the edge of the landing to the top of the stairs. “Bend over, sweetheart.”

You obey before you even realise just how exposed this position makes you. Gripping onto the metal like a lifeline, your face and upper body are well in view of anyone that came into the entrance foyer downstairs. As Yoongi slips down your panties and jeans in one go, your core throbs around the plug. “Please, Yoongi,” you breathe without thinking.

He slips a finger inside you without warning, hooking around the top of the plug and slowly dragging it closer to your entrance.. “Please what?”

“I- ungh.” Your mind comes to a halt as your walls stretch, the plug slipping out into his palm with an obscene noise. You don’t have to feel empty for long, as you feel the blunt head of his cock replacing the silicon toy, reaching much further depths to keep his cum from this morning buried deep inside you. “Fuck.”

Yoongi chuckles, using one hand to steady himself on your hip as he begins to fuck you in earnest, hips smacking your ass. “Well, that wasn’t a very articulate answer,” he teases, “it’s only been a couple of hours and you’ve already become a dumb little cumdump, haven’t you?”

You gasp at his sudden degradation, but you can’t hide the way you clench around him, biting down harshly on your lip to muffle a moan.

“Fuck, you like that?” he curses with a satisfied growl, picking up the pace so that his every thrust jerks your hips forward against the banister. “Spread out in the middle of the hallway for anyone to see, just here to keep my cock and my cum warm?”

You shiver. “Y-yes, Yoongi, fuck me harder, gi-give me your cum, wan’ it!” Denied from an orgasm earlier in the day, it’s no surprise that your dignity drops away so soon, your mind morphing into a desperate organ that needs relief. Doing your best to fuck yourself back on him, you let out a whine. You’d lose your balance if you took a hand off the banner, and you both know it. Something in you doesn’t think Yoongi would do it for you, either, if this morning was anything to go off.

“Such a slut, sweetheart,” Yoongi pants out, but instead of the hard edge of degradation, his voice is honeyed with praise. “So fucking good for me, my little cocksleeve.”

Your eyes begin to prickle, so close yet so far from the orgasm that he deftly dangles in front of you. Uncaring of who could hear you downstairs, or the fact that Yoongi probably wouldn’t listen anyway, you start to mindlessly beg him, letting out a weak stuttered moan with every plunge inside you.

As expected, he just shushes you and tightens his grip on your waist, his pace picking up impossibly fast until he suddenly goes stiff and spills inside you, catching his breath. “That’s a good girl,” he gasps between gulps of air, “still so tight, mean Yoongi not letting you cum.”

You whimper as he slides out slowly, pressing a hand on the small of your back to keep your ass arched up as he slips the still-wet egg back inside. Your legs tremble and your core clenches in dissatisfaction at the second denial, but the pleased smile on his face as you keep two loads of cum inside you is enough to make your heart soar.

He hands you a tissue to wipe the slick off your thighs before lifting your jeans back up, and he cleans off his hand, using his mouth to suck away the creamy mix of your arousal and his cum that had gotten on it from the silicon egg. “Did so well, sweetheart,” he coos, “not much longer now.”

Yoongi ends up returning downstairs first again, if only to give you some time to lose the wobbliness in your knees, but by the time you sit back down, it’s clear a round or so must have gone by without you.

There’s a near-empty glass in the middle of the room, a layer of sludgy green around the sides and gathering at the bottom. Hoseok bears a disgusted frown, swishing lemonade in his puffed cheeks. Jungkook isn’t wearing any pants, Taehyung has lost another sock, and Jin has a stripe of wetness running up his cheek like someone’s licked him. Namjoon doesn’t meet his gaze.

Yoongi glances up and runs his eyes over you as you sit back down gingerly. “Good timing. Your turn, sweetheart.”

You let out a sigh, take a gulp of the closest open soju bottle near you - this one sickly sweet - and pick a piece of paper at random. “How long are we even going to- Oh. What is your ideal sexual scenario.” Your cheeks are on fire. “I- Surely I shouldn’t answer, though, because then you’ll all just do it to try and stay in the game.”

“If it’s your ideal scenario, wouldn’t you prefer to experience it multiple times?” Jin questions, his eyes burning with curiosity even as he keeps his expression neutral.

Jungkook shrugs, the motion lifting his shirt to reveal grey boxer briefs. He seems totally unbothered about his state of undress. “You don’t need to be embarrassed, either. If it helps, I’ll tell you mine.”

You narrow your eyes. “Seriously? Fine, you go first.”

He shrugs again, shaking his head so the strands of red fall away from his eyes. “I’m in a five-star hotel. They gave me like the President’s suite or something because I’m super rich and super important, and it has a whole bunch of video games. I enjoy room service and play video games for an hour, only I didn’t come alone. I have a bunch of hot people, like at least five, and they all wanna fuck me.” Like he’s telling a perfectly innocent yet incredibly interesting story, Jungkook gestures and speaks emphatically, the other members of the house listening in with a dumbfounded silence. “I definitely wanna fuck them too, you know, but I’m busy. Playing games and stuff. So they do everything they can to get my attention, until eventually either I take pity on them and wreck them, or one of them decides to shut the game off and make me pay for ignoring them. I guess ideal would be some of both. And then we all fuck, and I’m right in the middle because it’s all about me. The end.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh. “Why does it sound like you’ve thought this through in great depth?”

“Because I have,” Jungkook answers simply. “Look, one time my friend and I got a fancy hotel room together and I thought it would be totally perfect if there were video games or something fun to do in the room, you know? And also I had a massive crush on her so my mind was also in the gutter and everything just came together.”

You blink. “Well… Okay, I don’t think mine will be so elaborate because I haven’t really… I don’t know. I guess mine would be renting a cabin or a chalet somewhere super remote for like a whole week with someone, knowing that we can basically have sex all day and all night without worrying about anything else.” Your cheeks flush, and you clear your throat awkwardly, staring at the fibres of the carpet.

“Sex retreat,” Jungkook summarises knowingly, “that’s a good one. Anyways, Namjoon’s turn again.”

Over the next few hours, the eight of you get consistently more tipsy, and eventually replace the alcohol with some steamed rice and leftover soup to sober up a bit. Taehyung had to do a blind taste test (apparently Hoseok’s elbow tasted like pork), Namjoon stripped off your stretched-out pink sweater to avoid answering a truth that made him blush so hard he wouldn’t even read it out, and Jimin theorised on who the biggest dick in the house was (guessing Jin, the eldest strutted around like a smug peacock for the rest of the night).

You’d gotten off decently lightly; answering a few questions about Sejin, music, and even Mango, then taking off your pants to avoid a dare that asked you to strip entirely. Though you wouldn’t admit it, you didn’t want to part with Namjoon’s shirt that soon.

Every time you managed to forget about the egg-shaped toy inside you, you’d laugh or change positions or reach forward for a drink and feel it shift inside you. You felt full in a way you’ve never really experienced before, and you couldn’t work out if you liked it or not. Another thing you couldn’t decide if you liked or not was the constant worry that your underwear would betray a dark patch or trail of cum that had escaped you, and the whole rooom would know exactly what Yoongi had done to you. The thought made your heart thud.

By the time Jin started to stack the dishwasher and Jimin - still the most sober one though he outdrunk most of you - cleans up the lounge, you feel equally tired and horny, desperate to get the reward that Yoongi’s been dangling in front of you.

He doesn’t even have to text you or command you; you quite happily trail him to his room like a needy pet, hoping your eyes convey your want.

“Can I help you?” Yoongi asks with a shit-eating grin, finally slipping out of the leather chest harness he’d been grumbling about all afternoon.

You narrow your eyebrows, feeling the toy shift inside you with every movement. “I think you can,” you pout.

His gaze glimmers with bemusement. “Come sit, sweetheart, let me make sure you’ve been good.”

He doesn’t even speak as he pushes lightly at your shoulder, guiding you to lie down on his bed, legs dangling over the edge. With his quiet demeanor of authority, much like you imagine he’d use in his clinic, he slides down your panties and parts your legs, humming in approval at what he sees. “You have been good. Keeping my cum warm for me, what a well-behaved slut you are.”

You suck in a breath at his words, tilting your hips up. “Yoongi, please.”

“I do want to give you your reward now,” he begins, and your heart sinks into your stomach at his reluctant tone. “Really, I do. But if you really want to please me, why don’t you let me fill you up one more time, hm?”

You have the rising urge to bite down hard on your knuckles, teeth grinding as you whine. “Yoongi,” you protest, but the need to please is too great to ignore. “Yeah, fuck me again, Yoongi. Please be quick, I want it.”

Yoongi laughs, a warm grumble in his chest. “Oh, sweetheart, you’ve already milked me dry twice today. I won’t be lasting long.”

Quicker than your arousal-addled mind can really process, Yoongi is tugging the plug from you and driving his cock in in one smooth motion. You cry out, a hand flying out to latch onto his arm to ground you as you tighten around his intrusion. “Fuh-fuck, oh god,” you make out through a tensed jaw.

“Shh,” the doctor coos, “are you sensitive? Poor sweetheart, Yoongi’s been so mean not letting you cum, keeping you plugged up all day.”

Your eyes tear up as he jackhammers his hips into you, brute force to achieve a quick and desperate orgasm. Though you doubt he’ll let you cum, you’ve been aroused so much today that heat already curls thickly in your stomach. You can barely respond with no air left in your lungs, so you just garble wordlessly, clutching at him for dear life.

Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind your inability to hold a coherent conversation. As he mercilessly seeks out your wetness, he continues to spew filth with a grin exposing his teeth. “Gonna fill you up so well, huh? Fill you right up to the brim, you’ll be leaking for days. Taking this cock so well, sweetheart. Just like that, fuck. My perfect little cumdump, only been a day and you’re so well-behaved, yeah? Just drooling for it, look at you.”

You’re out of your mind, holding on to his words and the shared contact like they’re your only lifelines. When Yoongi lets out a guttural groan and comes inside you for the third time that day, you feel totally boneless, unable to do more than whine and shiver on the duvet.

Edged yet again, the only energy left in your body is singing out for an orgasm, and so when you feel his hand cupping your heat, you rock into it mindlessly, warranting a quick and stinging swat to your thigh.

“You’ve been so patient, sweetheart, don’t be greedy now,” Yoongi chastises. “I need you to move for me, okay, on your knees on the bed. Clench hard; I don’t want my cum going to waste on the bedsheets.”

You groan weakly but follow his instructions, bleary-eyed as you watch him walk around the other sie of his bed before getting up and lying down on his back, mint hair splayed out on the pillow. He grins at you, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Come on, then,” he lures, “take a seat.”

You moan out loud before you can even think to swallow it down. “Are you serious? Fuck, okay.” Feeling breathless but vibrating with excitement, you gingerly position yourself above his face, knees either side of his head. It takes a lot of energy to hold your walls tight together, but still his seed runs down your thighs.

He doesn’t seem to mind. Without a moment’s hesitation he mumbles, “let go, sweetheart,” and buries himself between your legs.

You cry out at the first swipe of his tongue, right over your entrance. Your muscles naturally flex, releasing more of him, but you remember his words and let yourself relax.

Yoongi laps up his own cum from you like it’s the sweetest nectar, driving his tongue sharp and deep inside you, then switching to broad, shallow strokes, before flicking the tip against your clit. Although you try to avoid squashing him, he hungrily grabs the flesh of your ass and tugs you down to meet him more fully, making you let out a broken moan and grip the headboard for support.

As he devours you, his hands encourage you to rock against his face, seeking out more pleasure. Whenever he dips his tongue lower to lick you clean, his nose rubs against your clit, and once enabled you can’t help but grind into the long-awaited stimulation, a constant stream of breathy sighs and hiccuped moans slipping from your lips.

The sensation of his cum leaving you is one that takes some getting used to, but it seems to go on forever, unbelievably wet against Yoongi’s face as he eats you out like a silver-tongued god. Your mind is filled with the visual of his eyes, clenched shut in focus, and the mental image of his cum filling your insides, an endless stream with how deep and full he’d fucked you today.

It’s no surprise that it takes you almost no time at all to reach that edge again, and you could cry in relief when, instead of edging you again, he pushes you over it with a sharp tongue, fingers digging into your ass as you rode it out on his face.

What does surprise you, however, is that once the pleasure turns to needling oversensitivity, and your muscles go lax, his grip only tightens, and his tongue just speeds up, ruthlessly pitching you long past the point of your orgasm.

“Yoongi, ah, ‘s too much!” you hiss, trying to wriggle away. Your knees are too wide to give you any leverage, however, and he lifts his forearms up and over your thighs, locking you against him.

You feel rather than hear the vibration of him grunting his response, but he doesn’t let up; not when you sob and writhe above him, not when you go totally silent, mind-blown at how the sensations are beginning to cycle around back to pleasure, and certainly not when a second orgasm is forced upon you, wracking through your body. More violent than the first one, you shudder against him and go slack against the headboard, moans weak and stuttered.

As your body continues to convulse and twitch with the aftermath of your back-to-back orgasms, Yoongi takes the wheel and gently maneuvers you to the side of his bed, head heavy on the pillow.

When he cleans you up, your pussy feels positively raw, and you hiss, locking your thighs around his hand and the damp facecloth he’d used. Mind hazy and floating, it seems like no time at all before he’s tucking the both of you under the covers, snagging you around the stomach and pulling you flush against his back.

Still in Namjoon’s soft shirt, you can nonetheless feel the heat radiating off Yoongi’s skin and his heart thudding in his chest. “Was that okay?” he asks, pressing a single soft kiss against the nape of your neck to punctuate his question.

“Fuck, more than okay,” you pant out.

You feel him smile against your skin. “I’m glad. Sleep well, sweetheart.”

You hum in response, getting yourself comfy, feeling secure in his hold. “Night, Yoon.”

#cypherwritersnet #bts smut #yoongi smut #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jin x reader #namjoon x reader #jungkook x reader #hoseok x reader

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amillionsmiles · 3 years

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in your bedroom after the war (Dick/Artemis)

Title: in your bedroom after the war Summary: As far as coping mechanisms go, Artemis could be doing worse. At least her method has a gymnast’s ass. / Post-Invasion, pre-Outsiders. Rated M. A/N: I have one (1) agenda and that is messy grieving fuck buddies who are each other’s ride-or-dies. if you are not into fic that sits squarely in sad feral horny territory, then this is probably not your speed.

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| GOTHAM

| JANUARY 14, 2017; 12:05 AM EST

Artemis is a bit heavier than she was in her teenage years, but her feet land lightly on the fire escape by the window. An hour ago, she’d called her mom from Metropolis, promising she’d be home by midnight. Ever since her daughter faked her death a year ago, Paula Nguyen has become even more of a worrywart, and Artemis knows that the five minutes she’s running late are going to cause her to receive an earful.

“Didn’t think I’d see you back in this neck of the woods.” A familiar figure drops from the roof above onto the rung below her.

“Nightwing.”

She’s not surprised that he’s been keeping tabs. Officially, he’s been on a leave of absence for the past six months, but Dick, like her, is vigilant in his grief.

She’d come back to Gotham because it put her closer to Metropolis and Beta Squad’s continued investigation of LexCorp, but the truth is that she could have Zeta-tubed from Palo Alto easily. Their—her—apartment had been no good though, not without Wally. So she’d left most of her things in storage to figure out later and moved back in with her mom. On days when Artemis can’t muster the energy to get out of bed, Paula wheels determinedly around the kitchen, ready to whip up some mì xào or a warm bowl of mì gói. They play card games and laugh about how bad Wally was at tiến lên the first time Paula tried to teach him. Your boy has no patience, he always wants to play his strongest cards right away, her mom had teased, and Wally had protested, I make it a rule to always put my best foot forward! and Artemis had loved him even more then.

Loved. Loves. She hates the past tense.

“I mean, were you ever going to ask me to grab coffee?”

She can see the bits of Wally in his cracks. In a room together, it was always easy to tell they were best friends from the way they riffed off each other. The acrobat and the speedster: all verbal gymnastics and fast-moving quips. But unlike Wally, who liked poking fun because he liked getting attention, Dick is at his wittiest when trying to avoid talking about himself.

Artemis reaches out and pulls him to sit down beside her. She makes a show of looking at her watch.

“How’s… 12:15 AM this Saturday?”

Dick pretends to check it against his mental schedule. If his is anything like hers, it probably goes: Wake up. Exercise (beating up bad guys counts). Mourn.

“Yeah, seems like I can swing it.”

“Perfect,” says Artemis, sliding up the glass panes to let them into her childhood bedroom. “I’ve got just the stuff.”

In the kitchen, Brucely stirs briefly from his dog bed to sniff the air and yip, then curls back asleep. Paula hands Dick a mug, waiting for him to take a sip before saying, “So you were the one who had the brilliant plan to have my daughter fake her death.”

Dick splutters; from the table, Artemis rises to his defense. “Mom,” she says. “Leave him be.”

Setting his cup down, Dick leans against the cabinets, bending his head slightly and rubbing the back of his neck. He does a good job of appearing chastised, and Artemis wants to roll her eyes, if only because she’s heard from Bette and Raquel that this pose is far too effective at convincing women to want to forgive him or try again.

“I’m not leading much of anything these days, if that’s at all a comfort to you.”

“Hmph.” Paula sniffs. “You live alone?”

“Yeah.” Dick shoots Artemis a questioning look over her mom’s head. Artemis shrugs.

“What do you do to fill the time?”

“A lot of reading. Gotham’s library system actually has a pretty good selection, believe it or not. I’ve also gotten really into meditating.”

“And you don’t sleep.”

Dick stiffens. For the first time, he looks exposed, a boy with too much guilt and too much time on his hands.

“I do. Tonight I was just… restless.”

Paula nods and backs up her wheelchair so she can sit by Artemis, curling her fingers over Artemis’s hand and squeezing. She raises her drink, Artemis and Dick following suit, the three of them toasting to invisible losses.

“Aren’t we all.”

Later, back on the fire escape, Dick taps his fingers against the railing, jittery. “I feel like I need to start doing jumping jacks. What was in that stuff?”

Artemis bites back a smile. “Yeah, Vietnamese coffee packs a hit. That’s my bad. Probably should have given you something non-caffeinated at this hour.”

“It’s fine. I’ll jog it out, or something.” He turns to go, but Artemis stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, listen—it was good seeing you tonight. And if you need someone to talk to…” What she really means is: it’d be nice to be around someone who’s hurting as much as I am. Not to say that the rest of the team wasn’t as torn up over Wally’s death, but she and Dick had been ground zero. Closest to the blast.

After a pause, Dick nods. “Yeah… I could use a sparring partner, actually. I’ll send you an address.”

“Okay.” Satisfied, Artemis withdraws her hand, curling her fingers into her palm.

It feels like a start.

Dick’s directions lead Artemis to Wayne Manor; from there he takes her to the Bat Cave.

“I thought you were striking out on your own,” Artemis says, using her forearms to deflect a kick to her face. Dick grunts and recovers, throwing a punch to her stomach; she dances out of the way.

“I am. I just pop in here from time to time because Bruce has better equipment. Plus there’s less of a chance of me disturbing the neighbors.” He gestures to the eerily blue-lit stone walls around them.

Artemis feints and goes low, ducking under Dick’s guard. Two quick hits to Dick’s sternum pushes him back, before he gets a hand on her wrist and twists her around so that her back is pressed against his chest.

“Weren’t we supposed to be talking?”

Kicking his shin, Artemis breaks free. “All right, fine. I’ll start.” Jab. “I keep wanting a scapegoat.” Kick. “Like, one person to blame, instead of something as big as the Reach. But it’s not some giant revenge thing, and I know Wally wouldn’t want me to go down that sort of all-consuming rabbit hole even if it was, and that pisses. Me. Off.” On those last words, she manages to use Dick’s momentum against him and flips him over her shoulder.

For a minute, it’s so quiet between them she can hear the faint plip of water dripping from a stalactite into the water below the sparring dais. Still lying on the floor, Dick confesses, “I keep hearing him.”

“I make a joke to myself and he’s there, in my ear, with the punchline. And then…” He passes a hand over his face. “And then I realize that the real punchline is him being gone.”

Slowly, Artemis approaches him. She feels like she did when they were undercover at Haly’s circus so many years ago, that brief moment of hangtime before their hands connected in the air. She means to sit down next to him, pat his shoulder, she doesn’t know what, but instead Dick sweeps her legs out from under her and she goes down hard, the air whooshing out of her chest as she falls flat on her back.

“Agh!” The release sets something loose inside her. Next thing she knows, she’s yelling again, louder, just because.

Dick catches on and then it’s just the two of them shouting, their voices echoing through the cavern, threading around and piling atop each other like a flock of birds. After they’re done, Dick rolls so that they’re lying side by side.

“You know, when we were starting out—when we first became friends—I used to make fun of Wally that if he kept talking so much while running he was bound to swallow more bugs, or something. And he’d just shoot back like, ‘Nah dude, you think I’m not fast enough to see them and dodge them in the air?’ But you know how he was always so hungry after missions? One time I was so mad at him I put a bug in his sandwich. I’ve never forgotten the look on his face after he bit into it and I said, dodge that.”

“You didn’t.” Artemis gasps and covers her mouth, horrified, but she can see it so vividly: the colors draining from Wally’s face, making his freckles pop even more against his skin, the same greenish tint his cheeks took the time they went to Vietnam and he got food poisoning. He’d spent two days feverishly glaring up at the mosquito netting, and Artemis had draped cold hand towels over his forehead and promised she wasn’t going to leave him for the very obliging boy who kept bringing them ice.

“I did.” Dick is gleeful. “Really put the ‘rank’ in prank.”

Artemis snorts; the snort turns into a full-blown guffaw. Dick turns toward her, laughing too. His hair is matted with sweat but still soft; it brushes against her forehead.

It feels so good to be close to someone again, to be able to flip on a dime from sadness to frustration to anger to laughter and not have to explain herself. She can’t remember the last time she smiled and didn’t feel guilty about it, and she means it more affectionately than anything when she reaches over and brings Dick’s mouth to hers, like if she inhales whatever they’ve temporarily managed to create here between them, it’ll be enough to tide her over for the next few months. For a second, he’s warm and responsive, before his lips stiffen and he pulls back.

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

Shouldn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t. Shouldn’t beat yourself up about it, shouldn’t blame yourself for getting back in the game. Artemis is sick of people telling her how to deal, how it’s supposed to go. It’ll get better and then it doesn’t. People talk like there are guidebooks for this kind of shit, like it’s a marathon she just needs to pace herself through. And it’s the stupidest thing, but she misses being held.

She sits up and crosses her arms, resisting the urge to curl in on herself. “You didn’t do anything. I’ll go.”

“No, Artemis, wait, I don’t think you should go, I just want to understand what’s going on—”

“I want you to touch me, okay?” she explodes. “I want you to touch me because he’s never going to again and I know you loved him too and—and maybe if it’s you, I won’t feel so desperately alone.”

Dick looks stricken, and then, hesitantly, he reaches for her. His eyes are so blue, the kind of crushed eggshell you’d use to make a paint. “You’re not alone.”

“Prove it,” she says, vision blurring with tears—wanting, needing him closer, and then his hairline is up against hers again and his nose is at her cheek, his mouth at her jaw, soft but with a willingness to bruise. Don’t ask me what we’re about to do, Artemis silently begs, and Dick doesn’t.

Wally had been a restless lover. Always turning them over, switching positions. Artemis had taken it as a challenge, part of the ongoing competition that defined their relationship. Deep down, she’d known that Wally would be just as content if the rest of their sex life consisted solely of spooning gently on Sundays, which, if anything, was why she’d been so eager to experiment—because it felt like an easy gift she could give, not something she had to master to “maintain excitement” or make him stay.

She’s not sure what she expected from Dick. Maybe that’s a comfort—that she wasn’t fantasizing before they happened, wondering about all the mechanics of how it would go. Dick lets her call the shots, lets her ride him into the ground, the grip of his fingers around her thighs the only reminder she isn’t just angling toward oblivion. When he presses his thumb between her legs, it’s a weird sort of anchor—like hearing a voice pick up on a line you thought was dead. She has a body, and here’s someone on the other end of it, caring about her release. As soon as that thought hits, the relief shudders through her; she keeps rocking long enough to feel Dick follow, a stutter and a grunt, before she collapses boneless over him, the sweat of his skin a comforting stickiness against her cheek.

Internally, she apologizes to Bruce for desecrating his training space. Then again, they’re hardly the first of the Justice League to get handsy in less than appropriate places. She’s seen how Black Canary and Green Arrow act around each other.

Below her, Dick catches his breath. The rush of blood—his or hers—is loud in her ears.

“I didn’t think you’d be so…” Giving, she means to say, but it gets lost on her tongue. “I mean, Zatanna…” she trails off again.

If Dick’s embarrassed at the prospect of his ex-girlfriend having blabbed about the details of their sex life to Artemis, he doesn’t show it. His fingers find a snag in her hair; gently, he works it loose. The air smells hedonistic. He keeps combing. Nice is the only word she can think to describe it, and that makes her want to cry again, so she squeezes her eyes shut.

“Thank you,” she whispers against his chest.

Dick pauses his ministrations. He flattens his palm against the base of her neck and just—holds her there.

“Don’t mention it.”

When she goes home that afternoon to shower, she runs the water on full blast for a long time.

Armed with Chinese food, she visits Dick’s place the next day intent on making amends. Dick doesn’t even act surprised; he just points to the glass coffee table where she can set the bag of chopsticks, napkins, and takeout.

“I’m trying to decide what to watch.”

There’s really no need for him to stand in front of the TV the way he does, one hand propped on his hip as he clicks through options with the remote. Artemis lets herself ogle, a bit. The surest way to blow past what happened between them yesterday is to be honest with herself, right? And as far as coping mechanisms go, Artemis could have done worse. At least her method has a gymnast’s ass.

“Any preferences?”

“Between what?” asks Artemis, cracking open the carton of lo mein and settling back against the cushions. The Netflix suggestion algorithm onscreen paints a condemning picture of Dick’s tastes. “True crime or… true crime?”

Wally had been really into nature documentaries. One time during freshman year, when they were still living on Stanford’s campus, they’d gotten high in Wally’s dorm room and watched Blue Planet. Wally had cried when the seal got flung apart by killer whales.

“I’ll Be Gone in the Dark it is, then,” says Dick. He settles next to her on the couch, peeling back one of the orders and sniffing its contents. “What’s this one?”

“Salt and pepper ribs. They were today’s special.”

“Artemis.” Dick beams. “You really do care about me.”

Ten minutes into the episode begs a single question: “Isn’t it sort of depressing that you spend so much of your day fighting crime, and then you go home to unwind and just watch… more of it?”

Dick shrugs. “It keeps me sharp. And it’s nice seeing other people solve problems.”

“Well, if you ever feel like branching out, there’s a short film about Rubik’s cubes you might like.” Artemis nudges his side. “Remember when you were a scrawny math geek?”

Bringing both hands behind his head, Dick smirks. “Still a math geek. Just not scrawny.”

Artemis stares. That was just a bit of friendly showboating, right? Or was it a flirt? Not trusting herself, she whips her gaze back toward the TV. What feels like eons later, the credits roll.

“Artemis,” Dick says, too soft for having just finished a show about murder. He taps the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got some food stuck.”

She wipes with the back of her hand; a breaded piece of orange chicken emerges as the culprit. Without thinking, she flicks it off, sending it flying somewhere onto Dick’s carpet.

“Oops.”

Chuckling, Dick shakes his head. “I need to vacuum tomorrow, anyways.”

The mention of tomorrow stirs her. “Right. I should head out.”

“Yeah.” Dick rises to help her clean up their mess, holding open the plastic bag so she can toss in the soiled napkins and other bits of trash. “Or—”

He hesitates, but the hesitation’s enough. It might as well be a hand on her wrist, with how it stops her in her tracks. All night, despite what she told herself, she’s been looking for proof: proof that his aloneness fits the shape of hers, that he needs her, too. This time, Dick makes the first move—cups her face in both hands and kisses her, slow and deep and full of heat. Some pepper from the food they ate still lingers on his lips, making her mouth tingle, and Artemis is dizzy and flat on her back on the couch before she knows it, giving in.

Not scrawny at all, she thinks, admiring the solidness of Dick’s knees on either side of her, the weight of his frame as they grind together. The sheer mechanics of it feel very horny-teenager-after-prom, but the way Dick sucks her bottom lip and swallows her breath down with it is decidedly adult. These days, Artemis practically lives in her sports bra, which doesn’t exactly grant easy access, but when Dick’s fingertips skim over the cotton covering her breasts the sensation zings all the way down her spine.

“Need… off…”

“Yeah,” Dick murmurs, humming as he moves down the column of her neck. “Gimme a sec, I’m working on it.”

She’d worn sweats because she figured their bagginess would keep her from sparring again and any potential… situations that could arise from that. Instead, all it means is Dick unties the drawstrings easily, sliding her pants down her legs. Cool air brushes across her as he shifts positions; she wants to sob in relief. His teeth graze her hip and then catch the edge of her panties and—oh. Fuck. The moan tears out of her and she scrabbles at the armrest, hips rising of their own accord. Next time, she is handcuffing Dick to a bed, because what he’s doing with his tongue and fingers should be illegal. She can feel him grinning, the bastard, and the only thing keeping her from crushing his head to a pulp between her thighs is the maneuver he pulls where he hooks her knees over his shoulders, so he can change the angle and plunge in deeper. Artemis shoves the edge of her T-shirt into her mouth at the last minute, only barely managing to muffle her cry.

Dick surfaces from his solo mission looking entirely too satisfied, mouth glistening. Trembling, still, from her orgasm, Artemis squints at him, possessed by some combination of unbridled lust and rage.

“Dick.”

“You calling, or asking?”

“Shut up,” she hisses. She feels like a newborn foal, after what he just did to her, but the urge to dismantle him just as thoroughly sends her surging upward and pushing him back. Dick welcomes their reversed positions by peeling off his shirt and tossing it over his shoulder, all while Artemis works furiously at his belt. It shouldn’t feel so good, to hear the metal clink against his button and watch the leather slide through the loops. To see the shadows the light of the TV casts on him—the lashes on his cheeks, the hollow of his throat. Artemis hadn’t paid much attention the first time, too desperate and caught up a bit in self-loathing, but now she’s actually enjoying this, savoring the flex of Dick’s abs as he pushes up to meet her, his skin pebbling at her touch.

“I’m going to take you apart,” she purrs.

Dick groans and bucks. The sensation sends a sharp spike of pleasure through her, and she clamps down on him tighter, refusing to yield.

“Try me, Tigress,” he rasps, pushing himself up on one arm so he can mouth at her collarbone. With his other hand, he pulls off her hairtie so her hair comes free of her ponytail, and this is going to be a thing with him, isn’t it, him wanting to fuck her while her hair swings loose around her face. She indulges him for a few minutes, claws his back and bites his shoulder for good measure, but then she’s pushing him back down and stretching out her body as languidly as possible to remind him who’s boss. Their pace slows. Dick keeps a hand fisted in her hair, so he can tug her head back in order to keep her neck exposed to his wanton mouth, but his grip gets less sure the closer she pushes him to the edge.

“Art—” says Dick, the single syllable like a painting pinned to the wall, fraught with desire, and then he just lets it drop, the tresses of her hair falling through his fingers. She wants to tell him that he’s beautiful, that he does look like a boy wonder, right then, in the midst of coming undone, chest flushed and hair mussed and pupils blown nearly wide enough to overtake the blue.

She doesn’t, but she stays the night, and that’s close enough.

High-functioning, Artemis’s therapist had called her, before Artemis moved back to Gotham. And it does feel like a high—the sneaking around, the after-hours meet-ups, the back-and-forth. There’s no one really keeping tabs on her, though Artemis has plenty of cover stories if anyone asks (new intel, side reconnaissance, etcetera, etcetera). Her mom eyes her and says, “As long as you’re not planning on staging your own death again, because I will find out and I will kill you this time,” and that’s that. Artemis nearly laughs. If anything, what she’s doing is the opposite, a small resurrection. An entire month and a half passes this way: day trips and dinners and movie nights and Dick and her in a bathtub, in the shower, against a wall. She even wears a gown and heels once, not because they have an actual event to attend, but because Dick has a fantasy that involves taking her from behind in the Wayne Manor library.

They’re in his apartment on a Sunday morning bathing in the afterglow, sheets tangled around their waists. Thank god Dick is one of those assholes that splurged on not only a nice mattress but also a solid bed frame. Artemis reaches over to push the hair out of his eyes. The black tuft on the back of his head that she likes grabbing is fluffed up like a duck's tail, and under the sunlight slanting through the windows, he looks angelic.

“Are you falling back asleep?”

Yawning, Dick snags her around the waist, dragging her to him. She should not delight this much in being manhandled.

“You wore me out,” he complains, tucking his chin over her shoulder.

“They just don’t make them like they used to,” Artemis sighs. Dick growls a little at the dig, fingers tightening against her hip.

Well. If he’s going to nap, she is, too. Comfortably spooned, she snuggles back against him, prepared to drift off.

“Do you think Wally would have wanted…” Dick doesn’t finish the thought.

Artemis turns in his arms. Dick has long eyelashes, and he’s looking at her through them almost bashfully. She places a hand on his chest. Feels his heartbeat thump once, twice.

“I think he would want us to be happy.”

“Are you?” Dick’s voice fades out and he has to swallow hard to clear his throat. “Happy?”

“I’m not… miserable.”

Dick runs his hand up her bare arm, over her shoulder. “Me neither.”

“You know, Wally and I thought…” She bites her lip, remembering a whoosh of air, Wally speeding to her side to kiss her and interrupting her report on the disabled Paris MFD. I know we promised each other we’d get out of this game, but maybe we can have our life together and play hero, too. “We thought we’d have everything.”

Dick’s response isn’t mournful; it’s matter-of-fact. “After my parents died, I never really convinced myself that I could have it all.”

“That sounds like something Batman would say.”

“Does it?”

“A little.”

Once upon a time, Artemis had stood before the team ready to lay bare her darkest secret, waiting to be kicked out. And Dick had shown his hand: he’d known from the beginning and hadn’t cared. You aren’t your family. You’re one of us. She knows he’s second-guessed himself over the years, wondering how fit he actually is to play leader. But for her, trust has always been the easiest thing about the two of them. It was why she’d said yes so easily to his deep cover mission—because she knew that he wouldn’t quit until he’d brought all of them home, that he would do whatever he could to keep them safe.

Taking his face in both her hands, she looks deep into his eyes. “You deserve good things, Dick Grayson.”

“Mm.” Dick smiles into her kiss, hooks his ankle over hers. “Keep telling me that. I’ll start to believe it.”

Jade abandons Will and Lian on a Tuesday, and Artemis’s carefully crafted equilibrium falls apart. At least this time she’s not the one directly being left, unlike when she was a teenager. Her expectations of her older sister had hardly been high, but if she’d plotted them on a graph they’d have trended upward. Now they’ve tanked.

“Did she leave any hint of where she was going?” Dick asks over the whir of his juicer. He’s gotten really into squeezing oranges lately; Artemis can’t complain because he always gives her the first glass.

“It’s Jade. She never wants to be found, and I hardly think she’s about to try an Eat Pray Love type thing.”

“Eat Slash Steal, maybe?” Dick offers, dropping two ice cubes into a drink and setting it in front of her.

Artemis sips, balling up a napkin and throwing it at him at the same time. “Watch it, that’s still my family you’re talking about.”

“I’m sorry. How’s Will taking it?”

“As well as any dad trying to raise a two-year-old by himself would.”

“So, poorly.” Dick taps his finger against the table. “Are they coming here?”

Artemis looks at him blankly. “Why?”

“I figured they might want to be closer to you and your mom now that Jade’s gone. Gotham’s not so bad—you and I turned out fine. And Will probably needs to look into preschools and a babysitter for Lian soon. If you move in with me, you can bring her over whenever.”

The last piece of information slips in so casually she thinks she’s misheard. “What?”

“If you move in with me, you can bring Lian over whenever,” repeats Dick. “This place is as good as yours. You’re over here all the time anyway.”

Suddenly, she can’t breathe. “You’re serious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

She can’t meet his eyes. “W—Will’s home is in Star City. He’s not going to move.”

Slowly, Dick says, “Okay. But my offer doesn’t really depend on Will.”

Her stuff is still in boxes. She’s still paying for a storage unit almost 3,000 miles away. And Dick is waiting on her so intently it makes her chest hurt.

Artemis stands up. “We’re not doing this.”

Dick’s eyebrows rise. Annoyance, or maybe anger, flickers across his face. “You wanna fill me in on what exactly it is we’re doing, according to you?”

“We’re not going to fight about this like we’re…” In a relationship. In love. In anything other than a messy configuration started by shared grief. She doesn’t say any of it out loud, but she doesn’t need to—Dick’s always been great at reading people, and he’s known all her tells from the start.

“Right.” The single syllable comes out as cold and pointed as an icicle. He pushes his chair back from the table and stands up. The clouds are rolling in, throwing shadows across his features. Even now, Artemis wants to kiss him, wants to be the one to smooth the furrow between his eyebrows away.

“Dick…”

“Do me a favor, will you?” Dick grabs his jacket from the hook by his door, shrugging it on. He pauses, briefly, in the doorway. “Lock my door on the way out.”

That night, she lies alone in her bedroom next to the picture of her, Wally, and Brucely. Brucely snuffles at the foot of her bed and then leaps onto the covers, and this time she doesn’t shoo him off. Neither does she fall asleep.

There was a song Jade had liked to sing, passed down from their mother: a Vietnamese lullaby about a yellow butterfly, to the tune of “Frère Jacques.” The butterfly flies all over the sky. Come and see. Come and see. When it became clear that Artemis’s hair would grow in blond, not black, Jade started pulling it, making her giggle. You’re the yellow butterfly, see?

The taxicab she calls for the airport is bright yellow in the morning light. Plain old civilian travel for plain old civilian business. You don’t need to be a superhero to fly across the country and move in with your brother-in-law and your niece. She’ll sing silly little songs and wash Lian’s hair, and they’ll be a family same as anyone else’s: clumsy, incomplete.

“Artemis.” Dick coalesces out of the fog. They haven’t seen or spoken to each other in a week, and she should be mad that he’s here because it probably means he’s been monitoring her web traffic and caught wind she’d bought plane tickets. Still, all she feels is relief.

Jade had laughed when Artemis had let slip what she was doing during one rare sisterly bonding moment. “Oh, darling sister, your thing with your little bird boy isn’t about moving on. You’re using him as a holding pattern. Try not to damage him too much, hm?” Rankled, Artemis had hung up the phone—what did Jade know about anything, besides shoving it under the rug and pretending it didn’t matter? Now, though, Artemis sees things more clearly. Jade did know something about bodies and what they could and couldn’t fix; after all, isn’t that why she ran?

She worries with the strap of her duffel bag, letting Dick approach.

“If this were a romcom, you would have waited until I got to the airport and then run through security.”

“If this were a romcom,” says Dick, stopping in front of her and shoving his hands in his pockets, “I’d be trying to make you stay.”

She thinks he might be the one person left on this planet who knows her best. She thinks they could save each other, if they’d let themselves try. But they each have work to do on their own, first.

Setting down her bag, she tucks her face into the crook of his neck and breathes him in. Wherever else she goes, this spot will always feel like forgiveness. Nose buried in her hair, Dick squeezes her back.

The taxi driver rolls down his window. “Is this guy coming with us or not?”

Artemis pulls back, and there’s so much sky in Dick’s eyes.

“You know where to find me,” she says.

| STAR CITY

| JULY 29, 2018; 7:30 AM PST

“Who are you here to recruit this time?” Will asks, leaning against the doorframe, but Artemis doesn’t need an answer, doesn’t need any details but the black hair she can see just over Will’s shoulder, Dick’s voice at the end of a line.

He jumps, and she jumps with him. They’ll figure out everything else as they go.

Before Dick can respond, she says: “I’m in.”

#young justice #artemis crock #dick grayson #traught #dick x artemis #my writing #fanfiction #ff: yj

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floralseokjin · 4 years

Text

The swallow

⇢ memoirs of a mistake timeline

[saga index] [drabble index]

kim seokjin x reader // smut; oral sex // 4,434 words

“Fffuck,” Seokjin groaned, throwing his head back against the seat, Adam’s apple bobbing. “That feels so good.”

You hummed around his cock, moving faster, purposely making things wetter so he could hear it inside this stuffy car. In all honesty you were sick of fucking in here. It was the most inconvenient place, uncomfortable and a little bit foolish really. The thought of getting caught was always in the forefront of your mind. That and the voice that repeatedly questioned why you were hopping on Seokjin’s dick every other night…

Tonight though, you were only sucking it. You’d had enough of getting crushed in half trying to get him to fit between your legs in the backseats, and you’d definitely had enough of being on top. You’d ridden more dick lately than you’d had hot meals. Seokjin had tried to persuade you to slide by his place and fuck there, but he lived with a friend, so you were not chancing anything. Not one thing. No one could know you craved Kim Seokjin’s cock. No one.

So here you were, stretched over the console, pleasuring him some other way. You tightened the grip of your fist, holding him tight at the base as you drew back your mouth and started playfully sucking the sensitive tip. His hips bucked, a surprised moan falling past his lips. You repeated, liking the sound, but instead he pretty much giggled, attempting to twist out of your grip.

“Tickles,” he explained when you looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

You could count the number of times you’d sucked his dick on one hand – three. Including tonight. You’d only been hooking up “officially” for little over a week. The first time had been at the house party, the second a couple of days after he’d eaten you out in that abandoned car lot, and now, when you’d gotten sick of riding dick. You were still learning what he liked, although it wasn’t hard, men were sort of predictable, weren’t they? Stick it in anything wet and warm and they’d start thrusting.

You swirled your tongue against the underside of his dick as you made your way back down, not even attempting to take him all the way for now. You needed to ease your throat, warm up your jaw, it was already beginning to ache. You drew back again, this time trying something new.

“Wh-What are you doing?” Seokjin panicked, body tensing as he looked down at you with wide eyes, feeling the delicate drag of your teeth up his length.

You pulled completely off him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand in case there was any drool. “No teeth?” You slowly jerked him off, keeping up stimulation as you talked.

“I don’t know you well enough yet to trust your teeth grazing against my dick,” he explained outright.

Fair enough. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to bite it off,” you laughed, dipping your head again to flick your tongue across the sensitive flesh of his cock head. His hips jumped. “But noted, no teeth.”

You were suckling him again, lighter this time so it wouldn’t tickle him, but he wasn’t really paying attention, too distracted. “Why, do other guys like that?”

You pulled back, rolling your fist upwards, thumb digging into his slit. He grunted in pleasure. “Some do,” you shrugged your shoulders.

“Like, guys you’ve been with?” He prised. Eager for more information.

You curled your tongue again, flicking it back and forth against his slit now, nodding your head. “Mmmhm.”

His mouth was dangling open, soft puffs of air leaving him as he watched you tease him. But he still wasn’t done with the interrogation. “Your cheating ex?”

You groaned inside. What a turn off, you didn’t really want to think about that, but you replied anyway. “Should’ve bitten it off while I had the chance.”

“Careful,” Seokjin warned lowly, pulling back a little. “Don’t get angry while you’re sucking my dick please.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re safe, don’t worry.”

Five minutes later you were attempting to stuff your mouth whole, fully concentrating as you tried not to choke or gag. You didn’t know why but the idea made you self-conscious. Seokjin was losing his mind, all lost for words and shaky under your touch. His hands were trembling slightly as he tangled one through your hair, the quietist moans slipping past his lips. There was a mutter about it being so hot, something else about how you were trying to kill him.

When you felt your throat constrict, panic set in and you pulled off before you could gag, wiping your mouth. Before you want back, a fist wrapped around the base of his cock again, he stopped you. “C-Can I move?” He jerked his hips to explain, hand still in your hair.

It felt nice actually. Your heat clenched at the idea of him weighting your head down. Ew. What was wrong with you? You found yourself agreeing quickly. “Yeah, okay.”

You held your tongue flat as he started thrusting into your mouth, letting him slide to and fro to his heart’s content. He was gentle, hardly pushing deep, but seemed to be getting off on it all the same, even with a shitty view – the top of your head mostly.

“This okay?” He asked after a few moments, and when you hummed around him in response he just about lost it. A whine like moan tearing at his throat.

That’s when you came to life a little, lapping your tongue against the underside of his dick as he moved, even swirling it against the tip every time he thrust out. You were gaining a good old rhythm, moaning around his flesh as you went seeing as he loved that so much. The wet thrusts of his cock getting to him even more. You wished you could see his bare thighs right now, visibly see them trembling for you.

“Ah, fuck,” he muttered, the curse word pitching as he raised his ass off the seat when he felt you dig the point of your tongue against his slit, tasting his precum. He made a noise, sounded strained, before he began to speak. “Just a heads up, but I think I’m close.”

You didn’t acknowledge him. Even when his hips stuttered, movements slowing, you started to bob your head yourself, your throat making a strange noise as you strained. This time you weren’t embarrassed. It sent him almost faint. “Shit. You hear me?” He asked weakly, beside himself. “Do you want to, I don’t know, sh-should I cum in your mouth when I do?”

You guessed he wasn’t shutting up. He couldn’t cum in silence. You slid off him. “Where else do you plan on doing it?”

He hesitated. “Yeah. Good question.” You went back to work – well, your fist did. Jacking him off vigorously as he tensed up, pushing into your hold. His breathing coming out in huffs now. Thinking about it, maybe he had a point. The last two blowjobs had ended in sex, you guessed he was only checking up on what you wanted to do… Ew. Don’t say you were growing soft on Kim Seokjin. Yuck.

Lowering your mouth to take him again, he spoke, stopping you in your tracks. “Can you... Can you do that teeth thing again?”

You arched an eyebrow, eyeing him sceptically. “I thought you were close? And I thought you didn’t like it?”

He shrugged. “I am and it’s not that I didn’t like it. I just think of teeth as a bad thing when it comes to blowjobs.”

“Sometimes it can’t be helped.”

“I know that,” he sighed at your defensiveness. He pushed his head back, looking down at you and suddenly his fingers were in your hair again, his voice almost soft when he continued. “Can you just do it again? I want to see if l like it.”

“Fine,” you huffed. If he really wanted teeth who were you to refuse him.

He stayed comedically still when you began lightly grazing your teeth along his cock. You didn’t do it continuously, but every now and then you’d surprise him. You could hear him breathing but that was it. Could also feel his eyes on the top of your head, staring solidly. He wasn’t really giving you much. Did he like it? Did he hate it? Was it uncomfortable? Hurting?

You drew back, giving him one little light nip for good measure. His hips jerked. “Still a no?”

He deliberated silently before coming to a conclusion. “I’m conflicted.” Wow, how very helpful of him. You did feel some type of glee at making him try something new though. He obviously had a curiosity there.

He took his dick in his hand – painfully hard and flushed, looking you in the eyes. “Put it back in your mouth.”

You smirked. “Make me.”

“Fine.” His other hand came around to grip the back of your neck, pushing your head down so your lips could meet the head of his cock. Something ignited in your gut and pulsed between your legs, but you wouldn’t show him that. Didn’t want to inflate that ego of his anymore.

This time he thrust into your mouth with deliberate motions, unable to wait any longer. He wanted to cum. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” he chanted lowly, hearing how wet your mouth was – how wet you were making his dick. How warm your tongue was—

He groaned, speeding up. You tried your hardest not to gag. Inside your mouth he was on fire. “It’s–I’m–It’s happening—ohhh.” His hips rode up, the pulling power of his orgasm.

You braced yourself for the hit of cum, making sure to swallow as it came, praying there wasn’t a tonne of it, ignoring the taste. “Fuck. You’re–?” Seokjin stunned, voice weak, and you carried on until he was spent. “You swallowed.”

You pulled off him, not bothering to wipe your mouth this time. Your lips felt all tingly and swollen, your jaw sort of achy, which was a given. Boy had a monster cock and here you were thinking you were a python. “Yes,” you replied matter of fact, sitting up to catch your breath. You caught the look on his face, in pure shock really. “What? Did you want me to spit it out the window?”

He was still breathing a little heavy, mouth open. “No – I-I just...” He petered out, unsure of what to say. What he decided on was pretty hilarious. “Thank you.”

You laughed. “Are you thanking me for the blowjob or the swallowing?”

He looked away, turning a little embarrassed, shoving his now limp dick into his boxer shorts. “I don’t know why I said thank you.” And then his eyes were back on you, curious. “Do you like to…swallow?”

Oh, good god. Why did guys always lose their shit over the swallowing of some cum? Like give it a rest, they were so easily pleased. You shrugged. “It’s meh. I just do it because it’s the easiest option.”

Seokjin looked instantly horrified. “So you hate it? You didn’t have to if you didn’t want to–”

“Relax. I don’t hate it. I just don’t particularly find it enjoyable.” He still looked perturbed by your honesty. “Jin. Calm down. I wanted to do it, it’s just,” you shrugged, “cum tastes gross. It’s like a fact of the world.”

He frowned, visibly thinking hard. “I’m sure there’s some things I can eat that make it taste better.”

You chuckled lightly. “Okay. You do that research in your spare time.” You reached for him, swinging a leg over the console to climb into his lap. He held your hips immediately, as if it came naturally. “If I don’t have an orgasm in the next ten minutes we’re not hooking up anymore.”

You’d already learned to wear the loosest lounge shorts possible for these “car rides” – plus no underwear. Seokjin’s hand was up one leg instantly, finding out how wet you were, although he made no clever remark which surprised you. Rubbing your entrance carefully with the pads of two fingers he slipped inside you confidently, eliciting a silent gasp on your end. You were getting quite addicted to those long ass fingers of his. Clutching onto his shoulders you moaned quietly as he started to curl and uncurl his digits.

He looked up at you. Almost curiously – uncertainly. “Are you...” He shook his head, nearly backing out before he tried again. “Are you hooking up with anyone else?”

Your brows creased together. “No.” When did you have time? Sudden panic rose within you. Misplaced, but there, nonetheless. “Are you?” It was really no big deal, but you’d answered him with such bewilderment you didn’t want to look a fool.

To your relief, he shook his head. “No.” He opened his mouth to continue but stopped, straightening his digits to fuck you with them. You liked that, moaning louder, your hips beginning to bounce involuntarily, essentially fucking yourself down on his fingers.

He chuckled. The sound was deeper, raspier, and it did something to you that you’d rather not admit. “You said you’re sick of riding my dick but here you are riding my fingers instead.”

Idiot. “Just shut up and make me cum.”

He laughed harder. This time the noise infuriated you, but then his thumb was rubbing against your clit, sending your body rolling into his, chasing the feeling. He went back to stroking you, dragging the pleasure out of your body. He was getting good at making you cum now, learning what you liked and when to do it.

After a few moments of silence, bar the soft wet slaps of his hand between your legs, he asked you another question, trying his best to sound light, casual. “Will you be hooking up with anyone else?”

What was this? You shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t really hook up. This is my first time doing this sort of thing.”

“So that’s a no?”

A little smile played its way against your lips, his fingers still pressing and curling against you. “Jin, are you trying to ask me not to get with anyone else?

“It’s not that,” he shook his head, looking a little startled. “Saying it like that is… I just...” His movements stopped as he tried to think. “I just don’t think there’s a need for anyone else when we’re preoccupied like this.”

Preoccupied? Hilarious, but you guessed you understood where he was coming from. You hadn’t even had any interest in dick before you “fell” on Seokjin’s anyway. Giving a men a break for a while, but here you were…

“I agree,” you said simply, leaning forward, starting to grind against his thumb, wanting him to start up again. Too much talking was making you uncomfortable. Plus, what was this now? Officially unofficial? You must really have that “magic pussy” (vomit emoji) like he said you did.

“You do?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow in surprise.

You nodded, feeling the need to joke around. “Mmhm, I can only handle so much dick at once. Especially with what you’re packing.”

“Don’ttt,” he whined weakly, letting his head fall back. His dark hair fell into his eyes, his lips unbelievably pouty. Your gut flipped. Just as he thrust his hips up. “You’ll make me hard again.”

You rolled your eyes, looking down at him expectantly. “You’re supposed to be returning the favour here.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he grinned, fingers kicking back into action. You fell back into a rhythm, hips knocking into his hand. “You know... I haven’t hooked up like this before either.”

You found yourself smiling. “That’s good then. We’re learning together.”

Jin smiled back, brown eyes warm. You liked that about him, he had friendly eyes. “We are.”

It wasn’t surprising to you really, that he’d never done this before. He’d been so awkward in the beginning, still was sometimes actually, despite his self-assured attitude. Maybe it was all a guise, that cockiness of his, but you weren’t about to question him on it because 1. You didn’t know him well enough, despite him being two fingers deep inside you right now, and 2. –

“Now make me cum.” You wailed, making him laugh. You were desperate here.

Squelch. Squelch. Squelch. He sat forward to get better leverage. “That good?” He asked, moaning back quietly when that’s how you replied. “Fuck,” he muttered, apparently deciding something as he looked to the right. “Wanna switch to the passenger’s side, put the seat down and sit on my face?”

“SEOKJIN,” you gobsmacked, totally stunned by his nonchalance.

“What?” Still totally unbothered, except, you did start to notice a flush on his cheeks. “I find the idea really hot, and I love eating your pussy.”

Oh, for god’s sake. The sentiment was there you guessed, it was just the delivery was not. You ignored that to ask the real question. “You’ve never done it before?”

“No.” Oh. A bolt of excitement shot between your legs and it had nothing to do with his fingers. “Have you?”

“Yeah, like once or twice.” It had never really wowed you, but then again, the guy had just about known what a clit was.

You felt emptiness as Seokjin withdrew his hand, tugging on your wrist. “Come on, let’s do it.” He saw you hesitate and then hit you with the big guns. “I want to make you cum.”

How could you refuse that? You’d been practically begging him for the past ten minutes.

Soon after Seokjin was lying flat on his back on the reclined passenger’s seat. Your shorts slung over the steering wheel, bare and wet as you hovered over his face. He hooked his hands behind your thighs and dragged you down, kissing his way across the inside of one of your thighs.

That was something. You hadn’t actually kissed yet. Like mouth on mouth. The situation had never showed itself. Not that you wanted to by any means, it was definitely not needed… But the things his lips were doing to your skin right now had you rethinking that. You were starting to tremble – or maybe that was just because you were nervous. You didn’t get more intimate than this really. Looming over his face, vagina millimetres from his mouth.

You told yourself to keep quiet as you felt him finally swipe his tongue across wetness. Unable to look at him, you studied out the back window, trees and the moon your only view. Oh god. You had a sudden thought, panic seizing your body. “What if someone catches us? I’d never live it down.”

Seokjin came up for air, his voice making your eyes fall to his face. His lips and chin were wet. Fuck him for making you feel like jello. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. No one’s caught us before.”

“Yeah but–ohh…” You were instantly distracted, one of Seokjin’s fingers sliding inside of you as the other hand gripped your ass, nudging your forward. This time he sucked your clit between his lips, a bolt of pleasure shooting its way up your body.

He was determined, you gave him that. Grunting and muttering to himself as he worked out what was best, using your reactions as hints. You kept thinking to yourself, this was his first time doing this, and it just sent you faint. He was burying himself deeper into your folds, pushing a second finger into your entrance, and you wanted to enjoy yourself, you really did, but now all you could see was his hair.

“Are you okay down there?” You tried to joke, nudging your thigh against his head. No reply. Not even a grunt. “Seokjin?” He was definitely still alive at the moment, fingers still pumping, tongue laving, but… “If you’re suffocating please pinch my ass and let me kno–ahh!”

You shrieked as he lifted you up suddenly, pushing you back so he could pop his head out. “Will you quit talking,” he grumbled. “Jesus, you wanted this orgasm. Stop putting me off.”

You blinked slowly in shock. “Sorry.” Damn, he was really taking this seriously.

“Are you even enjoying it?”

“Yes,” you insisted. Fuck, you just needed to be honest. “It’s just...awkward.” You’d fucked a handful of times now, but that was way easier than this. For some reason, sitting on his face made you self-conscious. It kept distracting you from the pleasure.

Worry flashed across Jin’s face. “If you’re not into it we can stop?”

“No,” you rushed. “No, it’s not that it’s just... I’m just...” Ugh, just say it. “My vagina is literally on your face.”

He laughed then, genuinely amused. He took your ass in both hands and rolled the flesh. “Yeah, and I love it.”

You felt heat rise up to your face. How could a few simple words affect you so much? Damn him. You felt him playfully bite the inside of your left thigh – payback for the blowjob with teeth probably, and you looked down at him. He was grinning. “You drive me crazy. Both sexually and mentally.”

You tutted, but you couldn’t get annoyed, his words had melted you a little. If he was so into it then you guessed there was no need to care. The guy wanted a face full of your vagina, who were you to deny him?

“Don’t be nervous,” he told you, voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “It’s really hot.” You smiled at him. A silent thanks. “So, am I doing a good job?”

You scooted above his face again, your smile slowly turning into a grin. “Yes.”

His eyes sparkled, telling you he was grinning too. You just couldn’t see properly, but you could feel his tongue slipping past, curling against your sweet flesh. At the same time his wet hand slid down the curve of your ass, the two fingers back where they belonged. You gasped, sighing in pleasure as he used the tip of his tongue to circle your clit.

Your hips copied the movement and he pulled back with a smug smirk. “You can move a little. Take this pretty face for a ride.”

“Oh, my god,” you muttered at his shameless attitude. However, that did sound appealing… “I’ll lose my balance.”

He took one of your hands, pulling it to his hair. “Hold on,” he told you simply. “And the other one.”

Okay… Where had this come from? You obeyed of course, threading your fingers in his hair before he got back to work. Had he been thinking about this beforehand? Imagining it? That just turned you on even more, giving you the confidence to glide your hips over his face. Slowly at first, gently, matching the rolls of his tongue, but then his fingers started spreading you open, stretching you out, making obscene noises inside his tiny car, and all was lost.

It was his audible enjoyment that did it. You swore he was louder than you, moaning as you sped up, took charge, enjoying it when you tugged at the roots of hair. Soon you felt him lift his legs, planting his feet down as he held his tongue flat, letting you ride until your heart’s content, his nose catching your clit, sending sparks through your body.

You had the mild fear you might kill him, how would you explain that to the cops? Your family? His family? But then he jumped back to life, the moans falling from your throat impossible to ignore. He ate you out vigorously, messily, his own grunts making it even more enjoyable. With your clit between his lips again, your hips rocking into his fingers, you felt yourself push off the edge. Rocking through each wave of pleasure that came until you were sore and sensitive.

You fell back onto his stomach, a weak moan still audible as you stared straight at Seokjin. He craned his neck, panting loudly. “Holy shit, that was amazing,” he gaped. “You okay?”

You couldn’t reply. He just looked so good. Hair sticking in all directions, cheeks rosy, lips swollen – wet. His chin too, your arousal shining all over his face as the moonlight hit it.

You’d done that, and he’d enjoyed every single moment of it.

“Fuck. I finally made you speechless.”

Nope. He wasn’t going to brag about this. It knocked some sense into you. You attempted to kick him with your foot, using his knees as some sort of back rest. “Don’t get used to it.”

You watched him lift the neck of his t-shirt up, wiping his face off with the inside as he chuckled. Why was the sight of that so hot? You needed help. You made to get up, attempting to crawl into the front seat so he could sit up. You were getting cramped again. Car sex was annoying.

Your hand accidentally brushed against his dick. He whined. “I’m hard again.” He’d been so distracted he hadn’t even realised. He was still actually panting slightly.

“We’re not fucking,” you told him, wrestling back into your shorts. You needed to get home. You had a twenty minute drive back to look forward to. You swore he had to drive you halfway out of town to find somewhere safe.

“But—

“You can wait until next time. It won’t kill you.”

Seokjin sighed dramatically, cranking up the passenger’s seat now. You crawled over him as he made his way past the console, successfully swapping places without so much as a word of communication. “I hate you for making me so addicted. I’m googling sex positions for cars when I get back.”

“Cars can have sex?”

He looked your way, judging you hard. “If that was your attempt at being funny you need to work on it harder.”

You scoffed indigently. “Says you!”

He started the car, an annoying grin on his face. “Don’t be offended. Some of us are just born with natural wit.”

What a dick. You turned your head to look out the window, ignoring how uncomfortably your shorts were stuck to you. You couldn’t wait to shower when you got back. “Shut the fuck up and take me home,” you muttered.

Seokjin found that hilarious, his laugh tinkering in your ears as he took off. “No, but seriously, there’s got to be somehow we can fuck in here without crippling ourselves.”

He had a point. You looked at him again, his concentration on the dark roads until he turned to you quickly, full of ideas. “What if I purchase a tent?”

Oh god, what fresh hell…

Written 2020. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2020

#jin smut #bts smut #seokjin smut #fic:moam #floralseokjin:writings

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lovecinnatwist · 3 years

Note

Please tell me that Dick leaves Kara, that he and Jason get happily together.

It feels like it’s been 100 years but here's another chapter!

The Cost of Freedom Chapter III

Warnings: Includes Omegaverse, Cheating and Angst

She didn't show up.

Even after she told him she would, she still didn't show up.

Dick's body aches and hurts in a way that makes his insides twist. His thighs are damp and sticky with sweat and slick, the emptiness between his legs echoes in his chest. The first thing he feels after bitter disappointment is rage.

She lied to him.

He can't stand being in the nest for another moment. It smells too much like Kara, her sunny fragrance clings to his skin like an absent lover. It makes him sick. In his fury, he rips the entire thing apart. He pulls everything that's her's out of the nest. The blankets, the pillows, the fabrics- he wants none of it.

He tears everything of hers out with a stinging sense of justice. He flings it all as far away as he can. He can't stand to look at a single reminder of the alpha.

His frustration doesn't ease, even after he gets rid of every trace of her from the nest. Dick's glad for the plastic cover over the mattress. Like this, he doesn't have to worry about her scent sticking to it. It satisfies him but only for a moment. Soon his eyes snap to the closet.

Rage turns out to be an excellent motivator.

He feels intense pleasure in ridding the bedroom of everything that's hers. Things she's bought him, her clothing, her scent. He pushes it all out into the hall. Then with a brush and bucket, scrubs the place down. He does the window sills, the grout, every place where she could possibly live. It helps, but barely. There are traces of her everywhere.

It takes him the entire day to chase her out. He moves the bed from the centre of the room to up against the wall. It's a safe position and this way he can sleep with his face to the door. It leaves a big space in the middle of the room. One that he readily knows how to fill.

Once he makes up his mind, he starts moving Kal's things into the master bedroom. The crib is the first thing he gets. He arranges it right next to the bed, where he can readily get to it during the night. Then, he gets the baby's clothing and places it in the dresser where Kara's once were. It works out perfectly. Then from there, it's easy to drag in the rocking chair and make his den cosier.

He dumps his alpha's belongings in the nursery. Unable to will himself to at least fold her clothing or put them into the dresser. She doesn't deserve his aid or his kindness. In fact, a voice inside his head whispers that he should burn it all.

He narrows his eyes and for a moment, considers it.

'You’ll eat those words, and it won’t be me who feeds them to you.'

Jason's voice rings in his ears and cuts through the haze of rage.

Jason.

He thinks of the alpha for the first time in days. Jason had never been hesitant. Not with him or their relationship. With a cocky, confident smile, the other alpha made him feel special. To him, Dick's something irreplaceable. A treasure to be cherished and cared for with the utmost diligence. During the entirety of their affair, Jason never stood him up, never lied to him, and never disappointed him.

Jason loved him.

Dick's heart flutters at the thought.

Love.

Unlike Kara, Jason didn't need him. The alpha saw him and chose him. That fact alone fills him with awe. Butterflies flutter in his stomach.

" I fucked up. "

The sudden urge to see Jason strikes him like lightning. He needs to apologize. He needs to tell Jason that he had been right about everything. He wants to run out of the apartment and find the alpha immediately. It wouldn't be hard. He would probably be at Big Al's, or maybe down at the Red Hood Motorcycle club.

His keys are on the kitchen table, he could grab them, get on his bike then ride out and never look back. He bites his lip and starts towards the kitchen. Nothing but him and Jason on the open road. Kicking ass and taking names just like in the good old days.

His keys are just insight when something makes him lose his footing. Dick curses as he stumbles to catch himself. He grips the wall, looking around for whatever almost made him twist his ankle.

All he finds is one of Kal's baby blue socks. He reaches down to pick it up. It must have fallen off when Lois came to pick him up a few days ago. He chuckles. They were almost too small for him now. Soon it would be time to get new ones.

Something wet rolls down his cheek.

Dick reaches up, his fingertips come back damp. He lets out a shaky breath that becomes a sob.

Kal.

Like a cup ready to overflow, one tear breaks the damn. There's no way to stop himself. The sudden well of emotions makes him shake. He picks up the soft smell of milk and baby powder from the small scrap of fabric. It makes his heart clench.

He never thought that he would become a parent. Kids weren't a thing in a freescape. There's found family of course, but settling down? Absolutely unheard of. Even in his daydreams, he never let himself want it. Now that he's had it though. He doesn't ever want to let it go.

Jason might love him in all the ways he wants, but Kal loves him in ways he never knew he needs.

Hot tears fall with fervency, the sting of saltwater makes his eyesight blurry. It never did matter if Kara came or not did it? After all, no matter how their relationship fell apart, he would always stay.

He would never leave.

It's that thought that teeters the last of his composure. He cracks. Fat tears spill down his face until he can taste them in his mouth. He can't keep himself from weeping.

He cries for his baby, his sweet Kal who he never wants to be apart from. He cries for the loveless relationship he's caught in and will never leave. He cries until every vulnerable part of him is bare, and there's nothing left but soundless screams.

Then he screams at who he's become, who he's let himself be. He hates everything, but more than that he hates himself.

He's so busy wallowing in his own sorrow that he doesn't hear the soft click of the door. Not until it's too late. Kara's sunshiny aroma presses against him. It's nowhere near as bright as it usually is. While typically Kara can light up a room, right now she seems just as small as Dick feels. Teary blue eyes stare at teary blue eyes.

" Are you leaving?"

The question hangs between them so heavily, Dick feels like he can reach out and touch it. His throat feels raw. He can't bring himself to move from where he's standing. He feels weak. Like he's lost all the strength in his body. He's burnt himself out on rage, and all that remains now is defeat.

" No- No, I'm not. "

He doesn't want her to see him like this. He doesn't want to look weak. He's quickly starting to learn, however, that wanting things doesn't mean you'll get them. He hates the relief he sees in her expression. He hates that he can smell it in her scent. His heart clenches, and the words fall out before he can stop them.

" I'm having an affair. "

Kara grows deathly still. Dick's pulse picks up as he watches for her response. She doesn't say anything for what feels like an eternity. He can't read her body language. He expects her to be hurt, disappointed or maybe even furious. Instead, all he gets is a small broken smile.

" I know. "

The words cut through him. The alpha looks at the floor, seeming to be searching for what to say next. Dick can't bring himself to look away. His mouth feels dry at her admission. Of course, she knew, she had super senses. This thing between him and Jason had been going on for months. How did he really think he had hidden it from her?

Kara flexes her fingers several times. She looks just as beaten as Dick feels. Guilt twists in his stomach and makes him feel sick. He wants to run away from her. He doesn't want to face the truth.

Kara peers up at him, and it becomes harder to breathe.

" Maybe we should sit down? "

He's reluctant to take the offer, but she sits in the single couch leaving him the love seat to himself. Carefully he creeps over and curls up on the furniture. It's new and soft. Something Kara's brought them from the Garden. He looks at the paint, carpet and decor. This has been their home for so long now. He can barely remember what it had been like to sleep in his old dusty shack.

He doesn't look at Kara, and she doesn't look at him. It makes things somewhat more manageable. He isn't sure who's turn it is to speak. He licks his lips, trying to think of a way to broach the conversation. He doesn't want another beat of silence to stretch between them.

" You didn't show up " It shocks him how soft the words are. He doesn't recognize the anxiety in his voice. He reaches for the edge of his pants and plays with the hem. He wishes he could summon up some of the anger from earlier, but all he finds is fatigue.

Kara sighs and Dick can hear her shifting on the couch. He risks a glance. She looks torn, her brows wrinkle where they crunch together, and her mouth is in a frown. Dick swallows and her eyes flicker to his.

" I was going to, I tried to- "

She looks genuine as she speaks. She can barely keep eye contact with him, her gaze quickly falling to the rug. Dick wants to reach out and soothe her but more than anything he wants answers. His omega is right at the surface, begging to know the truth. He barely realizes he's wreaking of distress until Kara's own aroma shifts to comfort him.

" I couldn't do it. I tried and made it all the way to the bedroom. I wanted to be with you, but when I thought about what I would have to do- "

Her voice chokes off, and Dick has to stomp down an omega whine. He wouldn't console her. Not when she left him for days to ride out his heat when she told him she would be there. She closes in on herself, posture crumpling.

" I know that I should be able to, I know that it's natural, but- "

Dick can genuinely see her hands trembling. Her skin is growing paler by the second, while shame peppers her scent. Even without seeing her eyes, he knows what kind of expression she's making. He won't support her, but he can't help leaning forward in his seat.

" The thought of doing it makes me sick to my stomach. Whenever I think of going all the way- of being intimate, all of a sudden I'm nauseous. "

Dick wishes he could bite back his pathetic whimper. Kara's eyes snap to his and then she's standing. The sight of her up on his feet makes him skittish. He presses back and away from her. He doesn't get a chance to run before she's backing off. Her hands held in front of her in a submissive posture.

His heart pounds in his chest, it's loud enough he can hear it in his ears. He watches Kara for signs of movement, but she stays perfectly still.

" I'm sorry- I'm so sorry Dickie, I shouldn't have lied to you. I was just so scared you would leave us. I thought maybe if I could do it, you would stay. "

Her words hit him hard. The familiar feeling of disappointment sparks to life. The more desperate she becomes to explain, the more defensive he feels. He's on his feet before he knows it. His omega right with him, roaring in his head.

" So that's what it was? The only reason why you said you would. Was to stop me from leaving? "

Dick hates that the words break his heart.

He doesn't realize he's inching towards the exit until she reaches out.

" Dick wait- please wait. "

He shouldn't. He should get right out of the house and as far away from her as possible. His legs don't move though. He just stands there with his throat burning. Another fresh round of tears starts to fall before he can stop them. He feels like he's going to suffocate. She stares at him helplessly.

" I didn't know what else to do. You started seeing Jason and I panicked. "

It hurts more than a slap to the face, his guilt cools off any remaining flames of frustration. He opens his mouth to defend himself, but nothing comes out. There's nothing he can say. What would he have done if he found out Kara had been seeing another omega behind his back? The answer that creeps to mind almost sounds ominous.

Whatever he had to, to keep her.

" I was so lost, Dick. Kal loves you, and when I felt you distancing yourself, I had to do something. I know what it's like to grow up without a mom. I want better for Kal. I don't want to be the reason why he grows up without you. "

Dick wonders if she knows her body is trembling. If she knows that the look of sheer panic on her face makes her look breakable. He can smell nothing but desperation and fear. It's thick enough in the air that it makes him feel sick. He fights with his instincts before reluctantly deciding to comfort her.

It isn't much, just a hand on her shoulder. It must mean a lot more to her because soon she's crumpling in his touch and folding into his arms as if she belongs there. He freezes, this close he can smell everything in her scent. The betrayal, the fear and the anxiety hangs around her like a dark cloud. He squeezes his eyes shut.

" I don't want Kal to grow up without me either. "

Kara tightens her grip just enough for him to feel her strength. He squeezes her back.

" Do you love me? "

He doesn't know why he asks her. Right now things are so delicate between them, it's probably the worst timing. He feels her tense in his hold. It's as clear an answer as words would be.

" Not the way you love me. "

It hurts less than he thought it would. Hearing it out loud is awful, but more than that it feels like he's finally able to exhale.

"Thank you for being honest. "

They stand like that for a while, in an awkward half embrace. Dick doesn't bring up the fact that Kara is getting his shirt wet, and she similarly ignores his uneven breaths. The exhaustion from his heat and the emotional conversation starts to catch up with him.

" We should break up. "

Kara's breath hitches, but she doesn't say anything. Carefully, Dick untangles himself from her.

" Kara I love you, and I love Kal, but this isn't healthy for either of us "

Her eyes are red around the rim. She only holds eye contact for a few seconds before looking away. She gives a small hesitant nod.

Dick takes both her hands, and it somehow brings her attention to him. He's too tired to smile so all he does is look. He takes in her beautiful face, her wild untamable blonde locks, the freckles that splatter over her nose and stores it all in his memory.

" You and me? We'll always be GCG and always be pack. That won't change no matter what, but I think it's time we do what's best for both of us. "

He can face his actions honestly now. As much as it hurts, he knows that this is the right thing for both of them. Kara looks up at him with lost blue eyes, and it makes his heartache. He still loves her. Maybe he always would.

But as she said it, it's a different kind of love, and for her, it isn't romantic.

" I am sorry for cheating on you Kara."

She doesn't say anything, her eyes drop to the floor. Her scent betrays her hurt.

“ I deserved it.. “

When she folds her hands over his chest, he feels her emotionally distancing herself a bit. He pushes into her space a bit to force her to look at him.

“ No. You didn’t no one deserves that. I’m sorry. “

Her eyes get misty again making him do the same. His heart aches for her and the guilt squeezes his throat. He doesn’t know what else to say.

" What happens next?"

It’s a good question, he hadn't thought that far at all. He shrugs before taking a few steps back. The weight of the week crashes into him with enough force that he nearly staggers. All he wants to do is shower and sleep until this entire conversation feels like a faraway dream.

" You tell me Alpha. "

Kara's attention snaps to him so fast he thinks she nearly breaks her neck. He can't help the tiny minute smile that slips onto his lips.

" You still trust me with that title? "

Dick doesn't hesitate. " I trust you with my life. "

She takes a step forward to touch him, but seems to realize her place and stops. Dick watches the battle on her tear damp face. The conflict, he feels it too. It won’t be perfect, and it won’t be fixed right away but it’s a start.

Kara offers him a hand and he takes it. It burns in his hands warm like the sun. He soaks up her touch.

“ We’ll figure this out. Somehow. For Kal. “

He shakes her hand. Her gratitude and appreciation peppers the air like perfume.

“ For Kal. “

#The Cost of Freedom #Ficlets #JayDick #Omegaverse #gotham city garage #DickKara #Angst #Cheating Fic #Asexual-Kara

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not-so-mundane-after-all · 3 years

Text

Touching | 8. shielding the other one with their body, Dick & Rachel - for @wonderbatwayne

Fandom: DC Titans

Title: Safe Haven

Series: Physical Affection - Tumblr Prompts

Pairings/Relationships: Dick Grayson & Rachel Roth

Summary: "The answer is simple, Grayson. Five years ago in this very place you took what's mine away from me. Now I'm taking what's yours."

2x07 AU

Check out the prompt list | REQUESTS OPEN

____________________________________________

Safe Haven

You really wanna be back here?

Dick tried to ignore his father's voice as he marched between the rows of wooden benches.

"Where is he?"

Deathstoke led him to this church - to the place where everything went down five years ago. But now it was empty.

Bruce showed up in front of him, blocking his way.

He's feeding on your guilt. Like a spider. He's lured you away from where you need to be… who you need to protect.

"He killed my friend," Dick argued. "Nearly killed Jason. He has to be stopped."

Very heroic of you. Except… you don't give a shit.

He scoffed, shaking his head. "You don't know."

But I do, Bruce said as he walked up to him. I know everything. That's why you brought me. Just like I know why you keep sneaking off on these solo runs, just like you did five years ago. You have blood on your hands.

"Not just me."

But you have more, son. Blood only you and Slade know about. You're afraid of the dark. Always have been. Even as a little boy. The great chasm of silence. The coldness of isolation. You're afraid if the others know your secret they'll leave you and you'll be alone, again. And they may.

His heart sped up in his chest, his mind forgot how to breathe for a monent.

"They don't need to know," he said finally. "What difference does it make? It's done, it's in the past. It's behind me."

But it's not. It's got to come out.

"God damn it!" he shouted, feeling his nerves snapping. He was really getting tired of all this bullshit. "Can you leave me alone?"

You know how to get rid of me. You've known the whole time.

Tears started burning behind his eyes.

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

Of course you do, son. You always have. You just have to tell the truth.

But he couldn't. It was too much. It would destroy him, destroy everything he had with his team.

"It's too hard." he whispered, dropping his head in shame. It was getting harder to keep tears at bay.

His father reached out and gently brushed his fingers down Dick's cheek. Even if he was only a prodcut of Dick's own fucked up mind the touch felt very real and it brought some sort of comfort to him.

His gaze then fell on the altar and he froze, noticing something he hadn't before. Bruce stepped out of his way when he moved and walked up the stairs to a heavy wooden table. Upon one look at the display it showed his blood ran cold.

At least a dozen pictures were scattered among lit candles and each one of them showed Rachel. Sitting on a couch with Gar, both laughing. Talking with Kory. Eating breakfast in the kitchen with Hank, Dawn and Donna around. He saw himself in those photos too - training with her in one, walking with her on the street in the other, with coffee cups in their hands and his arm wrapped around her shoulders. But in most of these pictures she was alone, usually somewhere around the Tower, in her bedroom or the kitchen and it was clear all the shots were taken without her or any of them knowing.

At the very centre of the table was a small black box.

With a shaking hand and a heart hammering in his chest Dick reached for it and slowly lifted the lid. On a white satin pillow meant to hold some kind of jewelry lay a lock of dark blue hair, coated in crimson blood.

Dick's knees almost gave out under him, sending him on the floor.

"No."

He left those for you, Bruce said behind him. He turned to his father for a moment, his face twisting in shock and confusion, but quickly came back to the display, hoping it disappeared when he wasn't looking. Because it couldn't be real, just like this Bruce wasn't real. It couldn't be happening. But the pictures were still there, as well as the box and the candle flames were still burning.

Go home, Dick, his father's voice rang in his ears. It seems like one way or another, the monster's been in the Tower all along.

He couldn't take it anymore. The mix of fear, fury, worry, confusion and dozens of other conflicted emotions he couldn't name was about to explode, ripping him apart from within. He smashed his hand on the table sending all the pictures and candles flying, tossed it all on the floor in blinding rage and whipped around, ready to run out of the church. He needed to get back to the Tower, to find Rachel. Maybe this was all some kind of a sick joke, maybe Slade is bluffing, playing mind games on him to keep him on edge. Maybe it's all one big-

"Well, look who finally made it."

Dick stopped to a halt, his breath hitching in his throat. The front door to the church was open, revealing no other than Deathstroke standing in the door frame with his blade pressed to Rachel's neck. She was almost limp in his hold, barely awake but conscious enough to be standing on her feet. Her head was swaying dangerously like she's in a haze, the side of her face covered in blood oozing from a split on her temple.

"Dick…" she muttered, her voice weak and faint as a whisper in the wind carried out in the acoustics of the place and his heart jumped to his throat. He instinctively moved, wanting to rush to her but Slade stopped him, tightening his grip on her and pressing the blade harder to her skin. A drop of blood trickled down the shiny steel and Rachel instantly stilled.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." the masked man said slowly, a clear warning in his deep voice.

Dick sucked in a sharp breath, his nostrils flaring. "What did you do to her?"

"Not much. Yet." he slowly tilted his head to the side. "I just gave her something to neutralize her powers. A small gift from this little group that eloquently calls themselves… The Organization?"

Dick felt his fists clenching so tight his knuckles must have turned white. He was trembling but unable to move. His eyes were locked on Rachel's pale face as she struggled to keep her eyes open. Questions were piling up under his skull, starting with how did this happen but there was no time for getting answers, first and foremost he needed to protect Rachel.

"I hope you enjoyed our little game." Slade continued, pushing Rachel onward so he could walk deeper into the church. She staggered on wobbly feet but he didn't let her fall. He wasn't gentle in holding her up either and hearing her grunt made Dick grit his teeth. "You must have had a nice ride around the city, following false leads and fake clues. Gave me enough time to get to this one while the others were busy jumping to each other's throats."

He risked one step forward, glaring at the face hidden behind the mask.

"What do you want from her?" he asked instead of giving Slade satisfaction by reacting to his words. "It's me you're after and I'm here. So let her go and let's get this over with. Rachel has nothing to do with this."

Slade let out a gurgling laugh and shook his head which only infuriated Dick more. His blade twitched in his hand and Rachel flinched, her face twisted in pain.

"Oh don't you see? She has everything to do with this." His masked face got uncomfortably close to Rachel's face and she turned her head away, cringing in fear and whimpering. Dick barely could hold himself back from lunging at Slade. "Poor kid. Snatched from the street, taken under the caring but broken wings of The Fallen Grayson just to be let down and end up dead. Funny how history loves to repeat itself but twists the ending at the last moment."

His arm gripped her tighter and Rachel's body tensed like a string that's about to snap. Her breath quickened and pupils widened up in terror. Their eyes met for the first time and Dick's heart broke seeing how scared she was, how she was silently begging him to save her.

"Rachel!"

"The answer is simple, Grayson." Slade hissed, fixing his grip on his sword and shifting the blade so the cold steel was now touching Rachel's cheek. "Five years ago in this very place you took what's mine away from me." He moved the blade slowly, making a shallow cut on her face and Rachel whimpered in pain. "Now I'm taking what's yours."

And he pulled the sword down.

"DON'T!"

Slade stopped with the sword pressed to her carotid artery and looked at Dick who was aiming at him with the gun he was holding in his hand this whole time. His finger stilled on the trigger, grip so tight his knuckles bleached but his arm - no, his entire body - was shaking. His breath became shallow and rapid, heart trying desperately to break out of its cage.

"DON'T HURT HER!" he shouted and risked taking a few steps closer. He must have looked like a madman and he wouldn't be one bit surprised because that's exactly what he felt right now - madness. "Don't you fucking touch her or I SWEAR TO GOD-"

Deathstroke scoffed.

"We both know you're not gonna shoot." he said in a tone so light like they were discussing weather or something equally trivial.

Dick brought his other hand up to steady his grip on the weapon but in his current state it did him no good.

"Watch me."

"Are you willing to risk your precious little girl's life, like you did with Jericho? Or have you learned from your mistakes by now?"

"Don't listen to him, Dick!" Rachel suddenly spoke. Her voice was strong and she was staring at him with terrified but focused eyes. Dick let himself quietly sigh in relief. Whatever drug Slade had given her must be wearing off.

"Shut up." the assassin growled in her face, threatening her with his weapon again. She eyed the sword and gulped down hard but remained silent.

Dick took another step closer.

"Rach, look at me." he asked gently, for a moment not caring about how Slade might react. Risky move but he needed to talk to her. She did as he told her and their eyes met. "Listen, you're gonna be okay. I promise."

"Oh, isn't it adorable." Slade scoffed again, shaking his head. Dick was almost sure the man was rolling his eyes under that hideous mask. "I see you've learned nothing. Even after all this time you lie in their faces that they're gonna be safe with you. It's pathetic."

Neither of them were listening to his little tirade. While Slade was talking they were having their own silent conversation. Rachel held Dick's gaze to make sure she had his attention, then pointed her eyes at the elbow of the arm Slade was holding her with. Then her eyes went back to Dick and she mouthed one short word.

Shoot.

He shook his head, feeling a bile of fear forming in his throat. It was a huge risk. An inch to his right and the bullet could pierce Rachel's chest. All it takes is for Slade to move or Dick's arm to tremble. He couldn't do it. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if the bullet went the wrong way.

But her eyes were full of faith and confidence when she was looking at him. A small smile appeared on her lips. She knew he was hesitating because of her and tried to encourage him as well as she could without Slade noticing. He could read what she was trying to tell him in her face.

I know you won't hurt me.

He would never. He'd rather die the most painful death than be the reason a single hair falls off her head.

He pulled the trigger.

Deathstroke's armor clinked when the bullet made contact with his elbow. It didn't do any damage, but that wasn't the point. Slade cried out, more surprised than hurt because he didn't think Dick would actually fire that gun, but the impact made him release Rachel from his hold. She was still swaying on unsteady feet but she instantly lunged herself to the side, hiding between the rows of benches and getting out of the way.

Good girl.

In the meantime a fight broke out between two men. Dick charged at Slade, fueled by hot rage burning inside of him. He didn't have his Robin suit anymore or any of his gadgets but his body was a weapon in itself due to years of training and experience. He was throwing kicks and punches, dodging and turning and moving. Slade threw away his sword and sent him falling on his back with one strong kick to his chest, but despite the hit pushing all air out his lungs Dick managed to quickly jump back to his feet. They danced around each other like it's a choreography learned a long time ago and the moves are now coming back to them with clarity after years of not using them. Every move of the assassin was full of precision and technicality, cold, strong and perfectly aimed while Dick filled his every action with images of those he was fighting for. He thought of Garth falling to the ground with bullet in his chest while connecting his foot with Slade's jaw, sending his head to the side. He thought of Jason hanging on one hand from one of the tallest buildings in the city with terror in his wide eyes as he punched Slade in the diaphragm so hard the skin on his knuckles split and started bleeding. He thought of Jericho bleeding out on the floor of this church when he jumped on the benches and swiftly moved to find himself behind Slade's back. And he thought of Rachel, pale as ghost and terrified, with blood trickling down her face when he round kicked Slade in the back, sending him to his knees.

"So emotional." the man grunted and straightened up. He reached for his baton and with one push of a button turned it into a spear. "So… attached."

Dick roared like an angry lion and attacked again.

This time Deathstroke got the upper hand, pushing Dick back towards the altar. Blocking the spear wasn't easy without any weapon in his hand and soon he was covered with smaller and bigger cuts. He fell on his back at the stairs, hitting the back of his head so hard his sight became foggy but he still managed to use his legs to cut Slade from his feet. However, the man didn't lose his balance, only jumped out of the way and pushed his heavy boot to Dick's chest, then pressed the blunt end of the spear to his Adam's apple.

"You were right," Deathstroke breathed out, turning the spear around. Dick heard his voice as if coming from underwater. His mask was a blur of color. "Let's get this over with." Then he raised his arm and stabbed.

But the blade never made it to Dick's chest.

First he saw a shadow looming over him and when his sight cleared he recognized the head of blue curly hair. He lifted himself on his elbows watching in horror while his heart screamed in agony.

No. Not again.

Please, not again.

Rachel pushed herself between him and Slade and shielded him with her own body, just like Jericho did five years ago.

She slowly looked down at the blade sticking out from her chest before Deathstroke harshly pulled it out. Her hands covered the wound, her fingers instantly turning red and then she swayed, about to fall down.

"Rachel, no!" Dick cried out and caught her, laying her down on his chest. A sob wrecked his body when he saw the waterfall of blood coating the front of her black sweater, making the warm wool stick to her body. He pressed his hand to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding while she looked up at him with those big blue eyes and he felt tears falling down his cheeks. "Oh God, Rachel. What did you do?"

"I had to- s-save you-" she choked out, a drop of blood trickling down from the corner of her mouth. She covered his hand with her own and squeezed it tight. "I cou-couldn't let you- d-die."

In the meantime Slade stepped back and hid his weapon. He was watching the scene in front of him unfold, still as a statue.

"Now you know how it feels," he said, aiming his words at Dick, who lifted his tear-stained face to glare at the man, "to have your own child bleeding out in your arms. Death would've been a mercy for you, Grayson. This… this is a lesson you will never forget."

"I will fucking kill you." Dick snarled at him, gritting his teeth. "I'm gonna hunt you down, you hear me?!"

Deathstoke chuckled and turned his back to him.

"Good luck with that." he threw over his shoulder then headed out of the church, leaving the other two alone.

Dick made some sort of a sound. A noise that he himself couldn't even describe. It sounded as if something had brutally ripped his chest open and tore out of it. He roared like an animal, venting his despair and anger.

"Dick..." a soft whisper pierced through to his consciousness, drawing his attention. "It's okay."

Another sob shook his body.

"Rachel… Rachel, my Rachel." he whispered, hugging her and frantically brushing the hair wet with blood and sweat away from her pale face.

So much blood. He was completely covered in it now, it soaked through his clothes and bit into his skin.

"It's not okay." he shook his head. "I'm supposed to be protecting you, not the other way around."

She managed to smile at him.

"We're supposed to… save each other… remember?"

"Not like this." he said, his voice breaking. "Never like this."

She squeezed his hand again. Their fingers, slick from her blood, entwined together tightly.

"You were my… save haven."

He froze, his heart hammering in his chest. Then the meaning behind her words hit him like a speeding train and he held her tighter.

"No. Don't say that." he ordered desperately. "This is not a goodbye, you hear me? You're not going anywhere."

"Dick-"

"No! Help me." he croaked, pressing their clasped hands against her bleeding heart. "Use your powers. Take my energy, absorb it."

She coughed, spitting blood. They were running out of time.

"I can't- h-heal myself."

"Yes, you can. You have to."

But she didn't seem to hear him. Her eyelids closed slowly and her head fell on his arm.

"Rachel?" Dick's voice grew louder, breaking and rising like waves away at sea. "Rachel, my baby, please, honey, open your eyes, it's me, Dick, I'm here with you, I'll always be here, please, please…"

He leaned down and pressed their foreheads together, letting out a painful cry. He howled like a wolf, his shoulders trembling, heavy tears splashing on her round cheeks. It was his fault. All of it was his fault. A part if him knew it would end like this the monent he met her. But his love was too strong and he ignored the warning. Now she was paying the price.

"Don't go, Rach." he begged, his voice shattered. "Don't leave me alone in a world without you in it."

He closed his eyes and squeezed her hand with such force that he felt her knuckles grinding in his grip.

Rachel, please come back. We can do this. You saved my life in more ways than you can imagine. Nothing is impossible for us. I love you, okay? I love you and please come back to me.

He reached deep into his memories. Rachel at the police station in Detroit looks up and stares at him as if she saw a ghost; Rachel, curled up in the bathtub of that crappy motel, surrounded by scraps of paper with crosses drawn on it, throws herself into his arms crying; Rachel leans over him in the asylum and reminds him of his promise to never to leave her; Rachel comes out of the fog with her head held high proudly after defeating Trigon; her smile and eyes wide open when she saw the inside of the Tower for the first time. And many, many other memories he will cherish for the rest of his life.

Heal, he begged because there was nothing else left to do. Take my life, take it all. Heal.

Something changed. Rachel's hand in his hold started getting warmer. He lifted his head slightly, blinking away tears and gasped at the sight of a bright purple glow seeping through his fingers. He watched in complete awe as the wound on her chest slowly started closing until there was nothing left beside a thin pink line that was already fading as well. The color came back to her face and she took a gulp of air, almost choking on it. Then she sat up, her eyes opened wide and she pressed her hands to her chest but to no use because there was nothing there, only drying blood on her clothes. She looked down at herself then back at him.

"How?"

He smiled at her and scooted closer.

"I told you you can heal yourself."

Her brows furrowed in confusion but then understanding flooded her face and she smiled back.

"It wasn't just me… it was you, Dick. You willed me back to life and… and my powers listened." she grabbed his hands in hers. "I didn't heal myself, you healed me."

Still holding her other hand he reached out to cup her face. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes.

"All I knew was that I couldn't lose my safe haven." he whispered softly and that's all it took for her to fall into his arms.

She clung to his shirt, buried her face in the curve of his neck and started sobbing. He tightened his arms around her, pulling her on his lap and started rocking her gently. He loved how warm and familiar she felt in his hold, how solid and safe she was. He pressed a loving, desperate kiss on the crown of her head, inhaling the scent of her hair.

"I love you so much." he mumbled into her skin. Rachel shivered and hugged him tighter.

"I love you, too."

Dick leaned away and took her face in his hands, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"Let's get outta here, huh? We need to get you cleaned up."

She glanced at the blood on her clothes, then moved her gaze to his own bloody shirt and jacket.

"You don't look exactly better, you know?"

He chuckled and kissed her forehead, thanking God she was still here.

"Yeah, it was my favorite jacket. Now I have to burn it." they both laughed, happy to relax and lighten up, but looking at her face made him worried again. "You sure you're okay?"

Instead of answering Rachel stood up on her own and reached a hand out to him.

"Definitely."

He took it gratefully and got up to his feet, then immediately pulled her closer, crushing her to him.

"I am never letting you go again." he said, his voice hoarse and heavy from emotion.

Rachel melted into him and took a deep breath.

"Please, don't."

Over her head he noticed Bruce standing by the church's door. His father smiled proudly at him and nodded, then slowly turned around and walked out, disappearing in the light of day.

#dc titans #titans #titans season 1 #titans season 2 #titans season 3 #dcu titans #dick grayson #rachel roth #slade wilson #deathstroke

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prettyboypeterparker · 4 years

Text

Tony sits at Peter’s feet as his darling runs his fingers through his hair, fingertips running over the leather strap that keeps his muzzle in place. Peter’s idea not his. After the last incident, Peter had to take precautions to make sure Tony didn’t rip another clients ear off.

“I mean no disrespect to you sir, it’s just, people aren’t taking you seriously. It would look better if you had Tony go in your place.” A man with only one eye trembles before Peter’s throne, rubbing nervously at his fingers.

“I will go, I don’t care if people don’t take me seriously, because soon enough they’ll realise that I’ve got my fingers dipped in a few businesses that can ruin all of them and they’ll have to respect me because I’ll be the only thing keeping them alive.” Peter says cheerily from his chair, fingers still running through Tony’s hair.

“You’ll be the laughing stock, I’m trying to help you!” The man shouts.

Tony watches Peter grit his jaw, his fingers slide under the straps connecting to Tony’s muzzle, they pull at the leather until it gives and the metal cage falls off of Tony’s face. Tony grins sickenly before standing, he stalks towards the man and growls deep in his chest the man shakes his head and tries to run but Tony is faster and grabs him, he manages to lock his jaw around the meatheads throat, ripping out skin, muscle and a few arteries. The man screams before gurgling as blood fills his airways, Tony grabs the guys throat and with one swift twist snaps his neck, he immediately slumps in Tony’s hands and Tony gets a sick satisfaction as the life is ripped from the thug.

“Tony. Heel.” Peter commands from where he stands by his throne.

Tony drops the body and spits out the hunk of flesh between his teeth, he walks over to his lover and drops to his knees before him.

“You’re my good boy.” Peter murmurs as he pulls out a handkerchief and wipes Tony’s face before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss between his brows.

Peter places the muzzle back over Tony’s mouth and tightens it back up.

“Happy, get Barnes and Rogers to clean this mess up.” Peter tells his body guard who stands by the door.

“Yes sir.”

Peter sighs before smiling gently down at Tony, he slips his fingers between Tony’s leather collar and tugs it, silently telling Tony to stand and follow. Tony does as he’s told and follows Peter out of the main room and into a hallway that leads to Peter’s office. When they enter the room Peter pushes Tony towards the big chair that sits behind the table, Tony falls into the plush leather and waits for his beloved to do something, anything.

“I’m gonna ride you now, you were so good today, I’m so proud.” Peter coos as he works his silky red button up off.

Tony watches rapturously as milky skin is revealed with each button, until the shirt hangs down the small of his back, the sleeves are bunched at his wrists and the hem is still tucked into Peter’s slacks and he shouldn’t look hot but Tony’s cock is fattening up anyways. Peter sits himself in Tony’s lap and rocks his hips a few times just to tease Tony, his hands come up to Tony’s collar and he fingers at the silver hoop there, it’s mostly for show but on the occasion when they’re out Peter will clip a leash to it and tug Tony around like the feral dog Peter reminds him that he is.

“Your safe word is Manhattan.” Peter tells him, Tony nods and waits patiently for his favourite part of this scene.

Peter stands up and slips his shoes off and tugs down his slacks, leaving the silky button up on. He sits back on Tony’s lap and his slim fingers work at Tony’s own slacks, pulling them apart until he can yank Tony’s thick and drippy cock out.

“Is my boy hard for me?” Peter asks as he rubs his thumb over Tony’s slit.

Tony burrs loudly, head shaking trying to get the muzzle loose enough to slip off.

“Naww is the muzzle in the way? Here baby.” Peter undoes the muzzle and tosses it aside.

Tony leans forward and licks at Peter’s neck in thanks, he sucks the skin until it purples and bites until ugly red welts appear.

“Gonna ride you now.” Peter says as he lifts his ass up and hovers over Tony’s dick.

Tony groans when Peter sinks down, he must of prepped himself earlier before.

“So big.” Peter moans as he lifts himself up and down sucking Tony’s cock further into his hole with each drop.

Tony works his teeth over Peter’s shoulders and whimpers when Peter digs his nails into his shoulder blades.

“Good doggy.” Peter praises when Tony starts to thrust and work up a brutal rhythm enough to bruise Peter’s insides.

“You gonna make me cum Tony? You gonna please your master?” Tony nods furiously and takes Peter’s chin between his teeth.

Peter whines and holds Tony’s face, cupped hands holding him gently. Lovingly. Tony licks along Peter’s mouth and nose until Peter laughs beautiful and tries to push Tony’s face away.

“Gonna cum.” Peter groans after a few more thrusts, Tony doubles his efforts.

Peter’s back bends painfully, his thighs shake, his hands curl into fists at his chest and his cock spurts pearly white strings of cum. Tony howls as he cums, cock throbbing so painfully as it forces rope after rope into his sweetheart.

“Good boy, you’re my good boy Tony.” Peter manages to choke out as he comes down from his orgasm, he strokes Tony’s hair as he praises him.

They sit together on the leather chair, calming down and catching their breathes when Peter pats Tony’s thigh which is his signal that tells Tony that he’s allowed to talk.

“Thank you master, thank you.” Tony says over and over again as he breathes against Peter’s chest.

“You did so well. I love you.” Peter murmurs when he leans back to kiss Tony on the mouth.

“Love you too.” Tony smiles and licks along Peter’s lip teasingly.

“Gross.” Peter wipes his mouth before smiling sweetly at Tony.

“You’re so good to me baby.” Tony says as he rubs his hands along Peter’s ribs.

“Always.”

#starker #tony x peter #starker nff #kinda puppy play?#im gonna tag it just incase #mafia starker #mob boss peter #guard dog tony

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irwinkitten · 4 years

Text

got lucky | c.h

requested by anon: ok so for the bi!reader concept: last year i ended my relationship w this girl the main reason was because she was really insecure and jealous especially about me being bisexual like anytime i would talk to a guy she would just get so upset about it and she would make such gross biphobic comments and at the time i had so much internalised biphobia that i tried to convince myself i was gay n stayed in the relationship longer than i should have because i rly liked her i guess lol anyways (1/4) we ended and a while afterwards i started seeing this guy who i’d known of for ages (friends of friends type situation) but we just never really talked before or hung out but from the first date we clicked and the sex was crazy good like the type of sex were ur ditching ur vibrators cuz he’s that good lmao so one weekend we went to this party together and of course she is also there, i was so surprised and i could see her eyeing us the whole night, so when she came over i was anxious af (2/4) and this guy knew i was bi! it was no secret, i worked really hard to accept myself! so she comes over and she deadass goes “are you straight now? i knew you would end up with a man!” and she’s all smug but also hurt and im standing there like what the fuck and THEN this dumb man goes “ha guess the sex is so good i made her straight again” and i’m literally about to cry over how gross the whole interaction is and im so shocked i can’t even defend myself, i dumped him that night obviously (3/) last messgae: so basically can you pls do a redo of the gross situation where instead of being with that dumb guy its with calum and he is so protective n sweet n NORMAL n encourages u to stand up for urself about bisexuality / your sexuality, because what happened to me happens too often and its disgusting and gross and no one deserves that!! only if u feel comfortable/inspired tho, no pressure!! love u laura, thank u for creating such a safe space for all the queer babies it means a lot 💘 notes: i kinda enjoyed writing this one esp for my sweet anon baby. i love u and i hope this is everything you wanted ♥ warnings: biphobia, implications of emotional abuse

word count: 3.2k

donate to my ko-fi here

“Hey what’cha doing sweets?” Calum’s voice pulled you from your musings, your hand idly tracing patterns against the paper but the pen remaining on the desk. You wrenched your thoughts from the spiral you seemed to have fallen down, a smile crossing your lips as you felt your heart flutter at the sight of him.

“Nothin’. Just thinking.” You finally replied as he pulled up one of the spare chairs next to you, the bustling activity of the coffee shop falling into your background noise as his thigh pressed against yours.

“Really? Normally you doodle when you’re just thinking.” He countered with ease and your eyes dropped to the paper, noticing that the pen remained where you’d placed it when you first sat down. Subconsciously you must’ve realised that the route your thoughts had gone were not suitable to put down on paper, your fingers picking up the pen and mind falling blank immediately.

“Oh.” You breathed before placing the pen back down and packing away the pad and pen.

“What’s running through your head, doll?” Calum’s voice was quiet and concerned, you shrugged.

“Just, a lot on my mind is all. You’re not my keeper just because we’ve slept together.” You admitted quietly and he frowned before picking up his bag and for a sinking second you thought he was going to walk off, but instead, he took your bag from your hands and slung it over his shoulder.

He looked back at you expectantly and you sighed before standing up, leaving the coffee shop with him, your eyes on the floor as you fell into step next to him.

“Your place or mine?”

“E’s gonna be home and I don’t want to hear them rant about me bringing people back.” You muttered and Calum nodded.

“I think Ash is out. He’ll probably head out to Luke’s if I show up with you.” At his smirk, you rolled your eyes fondly before shoving him towards the bus stop. His indignant “hey!” was only ignored as you two waited for the bus, his arm slung over your shoulders.

Selfishly, you leaned into his touch, trying to ignore the fact that your stomach was doing flips at his touch alone.

The bus journey was a quiet ten minutes, but Calum seemed to understand that you weren’t willing to talk with so many people around, so he was content to just keep you close, and you were unwilling to pull away until his stop came up.

When you reached his shared house with Ashton, you noted that the car was gone from the driveway and Calum smirked.

“Looks like he’s out. C’mon.” His hand tucked around yours and pulled you inside. And for a second you wondered if you could distract him with sex, but then the guilt appeared and you could feel the tears of frustration appear as your thoughts swirled and you felt dizzy.

Calum had stepped ahead, turning to see you stood leaning against the closed door, head in your hands and he knew something was wrong. Stepping back to you, he dropped your bags and took your hand in his, pulling you upstairs to his room and your stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“Cal I-”

“I’m not suggesting that.” He muttered. You fell silent at that and as he pulled you into his room, you felt unsure, but he gave you no chance to really deny him as he crawled into bed before opening his arms out to you.

“Cal.”

“I know you. You don’t do emotional stuff well but I’m here for a cuddle and an ear if you need it.” You fell into the embrace easily, your head resting on his chest as his arms wrapped around your shoulders, his lips finding your temple as you finally felt something in you snap, the surge of emotions overwhelming and frighteningly vivid.

“I keep telling myself that I never was a lesbian, that I still found men attractive but Poppy made me feel like having that attraction was stupid since I was dating her and that I was a lesbian and it’s so fucking confusing because I like you, but I can hear her voice screeching that I’m not right, that I’m a lesbian or faking it or a freak.” And for the first time since you left Poppy, you cried.

Calum had been waiting for this. When the split had happened, you’d been ready for it, you’d already left her mentally, but this was what he knew you needed. He knew that the relationship with her had been toxic, but you’d never revealed the extent of her behaviour.

His heart broke.

“Just because you like both men and women does not mean you should feel so guilty over your sexuality. There’s a B in LGBT for a reason, doll. That’s you. You’re bisexual and you should be proud of that, not ashamed because some bitch with a control issue couldn’t handle the fact that you liked more than women.”

You found yourself gripping his shirt with your fists as you pressed your face into his chest, trying to stem the tears that seemed relentless. But Calum held his silence whilst you got it out of your system, knowing that you needed to get this off your chest.

“I’m sorry.” You finally got out, but he simply shushed you.

“She was a shitty person with an attitude to show. You shouldn’t apologise for the bitch.” His words were simple but it gave you a breath of ease, pulling away as hands rubbed your shoulders gently.

He was definitely too good to you, but he was there for you regardless and you were certain that you loved him for that.

“There’s gonna be a party on the other side of town in a couple of weeks. Ash took over the old Firefly down on Hartley. He’s revamping before opening the bar to the public. You fancy going?” And you smiled at the gentle distraction he was offering.

“We get at least a free drink if we show up, right?” And Calum laughed as he kissed your temple.

“He wouldn’t say no to me. Or you. In fact, I’m almost certain he’s expecting me to do full introductions on that night since Luke and Mike will be there with the others and their girls.” You rolled your eyes.

“It’s not like I went to school with Luke or anything.” Came your sarcastic retort and Calum laughed as the two of you settled for the evening.

“Pretty sure Luke last saw you when you started dating Poppy. He’s put two and two together but he won’t say anything unless you mention it. Even then he knows it’s not his place.” Your heart seemed to swell another size in affection for Luke.

“You’re making it difficult for me to not fall in love with you Cal. Good dick, you know how to use those lips and fingers of yours, you make me feel like I belong and you respect boundaries without me having to ask.” You finally muttered and Calum gave you an almost wistful smile.

“You may have been with Poppy but that didn’t stop me from being friends with you. You’re someone I’ve genuinely cared about from day one. Not gonna chuck that away because of who you are. Plus growing up with my mom and sister almost made certain I’d be in touch with my feminine side.” He teased but the sincerity and understanding in his tone eased your shoulders.

Your features softened at the admittance and you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Then I definitely got lucky to have you in my life at least, falling in love or not.”

—

When the day of the party rolled around, you felt sick with nerves and you couldn’t understand why.

When Calum rolled up to pick you up—he was driving to Luke’s who lived closest to the bar and you’d both get a ride back to yours before he picked up his car the following morning—he could see the nerves and the grimace on his face spoke volumes.

“What?” You all but demanded when you were debating outfits. He’d been sitting on the bed watching, but got up and held his hands out to you.

You took them hesitantly. His thumbs almost immediately started to soothe across the back of your hands to help relax you.

“Word has gotten around that Poppy is planning to show up. We haven’t exactly been quiet about our relationship, but I didn’t think she’d pull something like this.” And your stomach churned uncomfortably.

“We’re still going. Ashton promised free drinks and we’ll be in the VIP area right?” You checked and Calum nodded.

“Ashton has already told the bouncers that she’s not allowed near the VIP section. They’re checking and rechecking the lists to make sure she isn’t on one of them.” He explained and you let out a breath of air.

“Okay. It’ll be fine. It’s being handled and I’ve got you. Now which outfit do you think I should wear?” He studied your face for a second before a smile broke across his lips.

“The dark purple with the deep plunge. Is it wrong of me to flaunt in her face what she lost?” And you laughed as you kissed him.

“I mean, yes. But I also know that you want to show me off properly now that we’ve got things really settled.” You murmured and he grinned back unabashedly.

It was still an uphill battle, but he’d given you a lot to think about. And after gentle convincing, you’d found an LGBT friendly therapist who helped you process your thoughts. It helped you come to terms with accepting the toxic relationship that you’d been in but also it highlighted how beneficial Calum had been as a friend and confidant.

It also gave you the courage to ask Calum out officially, wanting to be with him entirely and not just in the evenings.

He took that in his stride and things shifted once more between the two of you. When you opened up to him about some of your sessions, you knew that your trust had been well placed because he never indicated anything to his friends and so you were never subjected to pitying stares or glares.

You were almost sure that you’d fall in love with him faster than you fell for Poppy.

The drive to Luke’s was filled with your nerves. You hadn’t seen Luke in years and you were also meeting his two other friends, Ashton and Michael as well as their partners.

“Ashton’s excited to finally meet you and stop telling me to be careful when I go to yours.”

Despite Calum living with Ashton, your schedules never seemed to match and more often than not, Calum could be found at your place, a small sanctuary from your hectic lives.

Ashton never begrudged that time you shared together, but Calum had mentioned a few times about how snappy he was being on the subject.

“He’ll chill when he realises I’m not out to break your heart or steal something.” You muttered with a chuckle. Calum snorted in return as he pulled into Luke’s driveway.

Your nerves return full force as he pulls you to the front door and steps in like he lives there.

“Hey fuckers, anyone about?” He called through and was met with calls of confirmation, another yell following that they were in the dining room. Your fingers squeezed Calum’s tightly and he didn’t hesitate to return it, his thumb soothing across the skin on the back of your hand.

“Look who it is!” A voice crowed loudly as he stepped into the dining room, followed by loud calls of greetings.

There was a flurry of introductions and you felt like the spotlight was being shone on you, under scrutiny from his best friends gazes once they had greeted their friend and Calum had introduced you. Or re-introduced you in Luke’s case.

“Well c’mon, the last time I saw you we were leaving school. What’s been happening to you?” Luke finally asked, indicating to the seat next to him. A small smile graced your lips as you sat down, Calum falling into the seat next to you as you shrugged.

“Life I guess? It’s been definitely more interesting with the different jobs and moving about. Building up a social life again.” Luke’s face filled with a frown at that.

Michael came in next.

“Building up a social life? Did you not have one?” His words held an innocent curiosity, yet you felt yourself hesitate.

“My ex was controlling to the point that I couldn’t do anything without their permission. They managed to make me believe that no one really wanted me around and I lost touch with old friends, like Luke.” You glanced to the side and he was frowning.

The others held varying degrees of stunned shock or disapproval.

“Well then he was a cunt.” Michael muttered and your eyes refused to meet theirs at the assumptions. Luke stayed quiet but his hand rested on your knee, squeezing it. You shot him a gentle smile in return.

“Well it’ll be good to have you back in our lives. Especially with these two knuckleheads.” He nodded at Ashton and Michael who immediately protested and you laughed.

It felt like you’d known them for years as you all had a few shots. Ashton, despite being the owner of the bar, wasn’t worried about turning up with his friends. He’d already explained to his staff that he’d be around for the rest of the night once he arrived and he’d told the small groups he’d be here and there.

After a handful of shots, the group of you made your way to the bar, your arm linked with Calum’s. There were separate conversations happening between you all, their girlfriends including you on their pamper night whilst the boys discussed a possible games night for all of you.

When you arrived at the club, you saw the queue of people waiting to get in and the subsequent groans from the line as the bouncer let you in, no questions asked.

Ashton guided the group of you to the VIP section and the music was still loud but you could still hear each other talking. You were chatting away with Luke’s girlfriend, arm still linked with Calum’s as Ashton disappeared to get drinks.

Calum pulled your attention away briefly, his lips by your ear.

“I’ve spotted her. She’s not seen us yet so don’t worry.” You barely nodded, acknowledging his words as you listened in, fighting to keep your nerves down.

The night continued and you were all a few drinks deep. Calum’s arm had barely left your waist all night as you talked and danced and drank. You’d been welcomed into his group of friends with an ease you never realised existed.

You’d deliberately not tried to seek out Poppy, silently praying that the universe would comply. But as the group of you stood out in the smokers area, huddled together under a heating lamp, your stomach sank as she stepped out, her eyes narrowing on you.

“Fuckin’ knew it!” You could feel the alarm in your face as you stepped back into Calum, his arm going around you protectively.

“Poppy, you’re drunk.” You felt curious gazes from your new friends, but you didn’t spare them a glance.

“You break up with me and go running to his arms, I knew you weren’t a fuckin lesbian. Pretending to try it out? Just another straight girl seeking attention. Fucking freak.” She snapped and your stomach sank.

“Get it through your thick head that she’s bisexual.” Calum snapped in your defence, earning a glare from Poppy. But Calum didn’t shrink from the glare, your glance to his face confirmed he was giving her his own. You were mildly impressed that she didn’t back down instantly.

“She’s a fuckin liar! Years of my life wasted on this bitch.” She spat at your feet and you took in a deep breath.

“You don’t get to control me anymore, Poppy. I’ve liked both men and women, but you never liked that because it meant that I had more chances of leaving you. And I wished I’d have left you sooner. Calum certainly thought so.”

“Of course you fucked the first man to pay you any attention.” Your heart sank once more at her declaration and you felt your mind fall into the old trap that you’d fought with for so long.

“No she never. In fact she slept with a few girls long before she slept with me. But I was her best friend as she tried to deal with the mess you created in her mind.” Calum snapped back. You felt your heart swell for him.

Poppy stepped forward, her hand raised but then Ashton stepped in front of you.

“Get out. You’re no longer welcome in this bar.” He made a gesture and security slowly made their way over.

“She shouldn’t be fucking welcome!” Poppy yelled back, but Ashton held firm.

“She is my friend. You are not. Get. Out.” When the bouncer rested a hand on her arm, she shrugged it off and stormed away. Your entire body was trembling.

“So that was the ex, huh?” Michael commented and you could feel your hands trembling as you nodded. “Why didn’t you correct me?” Calum spoke up for you as his hands took yours.

“It’s been a battle for her. Poppy had convinced her she was a lesbian, that she was wrong for having any attraction to men. In Poppy’s world, either your gay, lesbian or straight. Being bisexual isn’t acceptable in her eyes.” Calum’s arms wrapped around you and you stood there, holding onto him for dear life.

“Well that makes two of us then.” Michael’s casual comment had your knees go weak and you let out a weak laugh.

“Thank you Ash.” You finally murmured when you pulled away from Calum. Ashton didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you in a warm hug that was both comforting and reassuring.

“Hey, you’ve been the best thing for my best mate. And you were friends with Luke once before. I’ve definitely got your back. And I get why you didn’t say anything and don’t hold that against you.” He muttered and you breathed a sigh of relief before returning to Calum’s embrace.

“More drinks or are we gonna go back to Luke’s?” And you shook your head.

“Let’s stay. I’m not gonna let her ruin it,” you leaned forwards so your lips were by his ear as the others went inside, “also I want to see if we can christen the bar in one of the toilets.” You breathed. Calum groaned as his grip around you got tighter and he pulled you in for a kiss that promised more.

“Oh you’re so fucked sweetheart. Especially since I know where the individual lips are and they aren’t attended by anyone.” You held back a moan at that thought before pulling away, your hand in his.

“Dance first?” And the innocence in your tone made him laugh as he followed behind you willingly.

“Menace.” The term was laced with affection as he caught up to you, kissing the spot just below your ear.

You simply grinned in return as you pulled him onto the dance floor, Poppy long forgotten as he danced with you.

@sexgodashton, @goth5sos, @calumsmermaid, @empathycth, @wildflowergrae, @calpops, @rosecolouredash, @cal-puddies, @clockwork124, @loveroflrh, @stellar5sosrecs, @ashtoniwir, @cthla, @liketheydidwithyou, @sc0ttish-wildfl0wer, @bluehairedtracii, @drummerboy794, @feliznavidaddycal, @i-calumhood, @wokeupinjapanisabop, @converse-luke, @madbomb, @ccnicole02, @youngblood199456, @aulxna, @megz1985, @lukesidentitycrisis, @snapback-irwie, @neonweeknds, @666yourwitchyfriend666, @gamerboymike, @cashtonasfuck, @ashtaway, @conquerwhatliesahead92, @itjustkindahappenedreally, @twoamhood, @kchillout, @damselindistressanu, @colormekaykay, @findingliam-o, @sublimehood, @sugarcoated-pain, @singt0mecalum, @singledadharrington, @calumspeachy, @colourfulcalum, @lostincalum, @burncrashbromance, @asht0ns-world, @a-mnd, @flusteredcliffo, @loti18, @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave, @clumclum-hood, @fangirl-everythang, @lashtondaddies, @calumssunshine, @ambskiwi, @abundant-stars, @caltattoohood, @seedless-vascular, @myescapefromthislife, @lmao5sosimagines, @beyoncesdragon, @jae-writes-fanfiction, @cxddlyash, @tresfandom, @utterly-u-n-p-e-r-f-e-c-t, @niallisworld, @lietomevalntyn, @babylon-corgis, @monochrome44, @behind-my-hazeleyes27, @ghost0fy0u, @lyllibug, @bloodmoonashton, @balsamic-cal, @calumsbaldhead, @washedout-ky, @calumssunshinee, @ghostofmashton, @summerellaz, @a-little-less-sixteen, @cashworthy, @smokeinherlungs, @longlastingdaydream, @h0tsos, @sweetcherrymike, @5sosnsfw, @sugar-nico, @sunnysideblog, @angel-cal, @samros95, @maluminspace, @lukeinblue, @cakesunflower, @allamerican-betch, @britnicole11, @gigglyirwin, @everyscarisahealingplace, @loverofcashton, @iovehemmings, @g-l-pierce, @jannimoeller3, @wildmichaelflower, @lukeskisses, @5sossstan, @youngbloodchild, @alloutofcashton, @tobefalling, @abb-lan-5sos, @calumsbub, @flameraine, @here-for-the-uproars, @mateisit-balsamic, @ilovelukey, @sarahshepherdblog

380 notes · View notes

urlocalbunny · 4 years

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casting couch - vladimir.

warnings: creampie, sub/dom dynamics, oral, semi-public sex, dirty-talking, kind of sugar daddy vladimir.

casting couch is when a superior/person with power to do something asks for sexual favors in exchange for rewards/ other favors.

please notice that i don’t know how to write. Enjoy!

Vladimir was usually a very composed person. As he said, seduction was an art. An art he understood very well. But it didn’t matter how much he tried to be the best artist when it came to his chalice, he could not make her sway. She was just oblivious. He found it to be very hard and suffocating to stay close to her without pouncing, but he had to save face.

Unfortunately, right now, Eloise was sitting on the couch by the fireplace. Vladimir was by her side, listening to what she just said.

"So you are telling me that you want a brand new set of clothes? How am I supposed to do that all of a sudden?“

She shifted under his hungry gaze. "I thought that’s exactly what you did when you came here?” She looked at him, then looked away. His stare was hard and the fire made an orange glint shine on his right eye.

"Yes, but what is the problem with what you have right now? Do you not like it?“

"Feels childish to me. I wanted something nicer.” She pouted. Vladimir then shifted as he let his hair down, a sick and twisted idea popping up in his head. He wanted to shove it back to the depths of his mind, but he just couldn’t resist as she was looking at him with those doe eyes and her breasts pressed in between her arms under the firelight. He had to have her.

"I suppose I could help you out.“ He said, supporting himself in his hand as he leaned in and caged her with her back in the armrest. "But I have one condition.”

"And it would be…?“ She asked innocently.

"Maybe if you pay attention to what we are doing right now, you will find out by yourself.” He said as his hair fell to one side of her face. She then looked down to see their entangled limbs, the pretty arch of his back, and the way his shirt hugged his lean body so nicely. Hesitantly, she brought a hand to his chest.

"Oh… I see.“ She blushed fiercely, Vladimir couldn’t quite make it out in the dark, but he could feel how the blood flowed to her cheeks. "I suppose we could, hm, help each other out.” He then paused his restraining movements.

"I only want you to do it if you want me too. If you don’t, I will understand fully and we do not need to speak of this-“ she placed her finger on his lips delicately, sealing them.

"Take me.” She asked, looking at him lovingly. The next thing she knew, they were kissing slowly. His hand went to tuck her hair behind her ear and cup her face in one motion. Her hands felt the red velvet on his shirt as she stroked his chest softly and trailed up into his ivory neck, caressing the hair in the back of it, swallowing the low and short grunt he gave her. His tongue went out to play with hers, tip meeting tip at first, and then dancing together just right. They tilted their heads to deepen the kiss, but it was just as slow as it could get.

She gasped for air and he looked at her hungrily. “If you keep making me feel so good with so little, I can only imagine how many dresses I’ll give you, little one.” As he said that, he skillfully slid the sleeves of her dress down her shoulders and pulled her up, turning her around so that his chest was against her back. He got too busy kissing and lightly grazing his fangs in her shoulders, having fun with her tiny whines of his name and her shivers. She took the opportunity to grind slowly against him, his pants creating some friction with her panties. She moaned his name, earning a loud slap in her ass.

"Now, now. Do not be a tease, little one. I will give you what you want eventually. Be a good girl and wait.“ As much as her hips stuttered and she wanted to keep grinding, she stayed still. "This is it, love."

He loved the way she looked at the door biting her lower lip every time she heard steps. "Do not fret, they are not going to come in… I guess.” He smiled, clutching her waist and turning her around once again. “Now, undress me, little one.” He said and in a quick motion, she was unbuttoning his waistcoat. He looked at her hands doing quick work of the buttons and frowned. “You are way too good at this. You are a really good kisser, too. Perhaps I am not the first one to get this attention from you?”

She smiled. An evil, hot little smirk he wanted to wipe out of her cute face. “I’m glad you’re complimenting me so much, but I’d rather keep some secrets up my sleeve.” He smirked back as she unbuttoned his white shirt and his pants, discarding them at the same time he got rid of the shoes. This cheeky brat. He didn’t make any remarks, the next command would make her shut up. He sat down and smacked her ass again, this time, harder. “I don’t mind a little investigation. Get up on your feet and undress. Now.”

Her eyes widened and she tried to cover her red cheeks. “I-” “I did not tell you to speak. I am waiting little one. You wouldn’t waste our time now, would you?” She didn’t say a word, standing up and holding the hem of her short dress. She then started pulling it up as she bit her lip, an adorable annoyed whine leaving her lips as she made eye contact and he smiled at her.

She had lost this round, but there was more to come. She pulled the clothing up and tossed it on the floor, moving for her panties. She opened her legs a bit so that he could see the way her wetness clung to the piece of clothing and dripped onto it before falling on the ground.

"I think I told you to not be a tease. I will have to show you how bad little ones have to be treated.“ He said, motioning for her to come closer as he wrapped a hand around his hard, veiny length, pumping it slowly, looking at it mindlessly. "Kneel, love.” She did it quickly, putting her hands on his thighs, moving them up and down in a soothing motion, an attempt to calm his nerves down.

"Open up, honey" she did as she was told, feeling him getting a hold of her hair and pushing softly inside her mouth. Soon, the sloppy sounds made Eloise try to lower her hand and touch herself, only to be stopped by Vladimir shaking his head. Her throat felt a bit sore and her pussy was wet and throbbing, but he denied her every single attempt at release. She cried out around his cock, squeezing his thighs lightly and pleading with teary eyes.

"You want some relief?“ He asked, pulling her hair and seeing her mouth stay open, tongue lolled out and panting as she nodded. "Use your words, little one.”

“Yes” it came out a bit sore “Please, please take me, I’ll do whatever you want. Just please make me cum."

He chuckled. "Oh, I see you have a foul mouth, don’t you? Let’s put this brattiness to good use. Come here and ride me.” He said dryly, and Eloise didn’t even think straight before sinking into him in one fluid motion, moaning louder than she wished to in the room. Her hands flew to her mouth as she heard the conversations cease out of the room and Vladimir chuckled again.

"Oh, I forgot to say: be quiet.“ He whispered and she just moaned again when he started pushing her hips back and forth until she was a writhing mess bouncing on his dick. "Just like that, like a good little one. You are doing so well for me.” He hissed, squeezing one of her breasts and matching her bouncing with his ministrations. “You look so good riding me like this, is that what you wanted, love?” She nodded, panting as she felt his cock twitch inside of her. He sucked on her nipples, blowing cold air into them and doing it again, smacking and clawing at her ass hard from time to time.

"Want your cum, please, please!“ She whispered, riding him quickly to chase her high and feeling his hands bruising her hips: he would cum soon enough too. His face was contorted in pleasure as he pushed and pushed deeper inside her. She couldn’t take it anymore, finding her clit and circling it fiercely, feeling the first waves of a high she would enjoy for a long while.

“God, Eloise, fuck!” He moaned loudly, biting her neck and holding her with one arm, bringing her body closer as he buried himself to the hilt and swallowed her blood, bursting inside her as he whined lowly in her neck so that nobody would hear.

They sat like this as Eloise moaned and chanted his name, feeling the blood leave her system to feed him, his greed and lust, his pleasure. Her limp body on top of his held him after he was done, laughing heartily at the pile of clothes and his blissful expression.

He took it upon himself to dress her clothes back and make her look as of nothing happened, dressing himself back and letting her button his clothes back in place. He tied his hair back just in time with the door opening quickly. Vladimir looked unimpressed as always to see Beliath smiling like a madman in the doorway. His smile dropped when he saw that nothing changed.

"Oh, you both are so boring!“ He turned around and left, a smile plastered on his face. "I could swear I heard our little one moaning your name right behind this door!” Raphael kept quiet, Aaron had his head buried in a poetry book, but his cheeks looked red.

"I genuinely do not understand what you are trying to hint at here, Beliath.“ He said. "Now if you’ll excuse us, this miss and I will go to our rooms. Have a great end of the night.

They answered weakly and both of them went their separate ways after a searing kiss in the shadows of the hall. Eloise took a bath and slept.

The next night, she woke up to Ethan’s screams.

“Why the fuck are there so many clothes in the house? I want to sit the fuck down!”

#ml vladimir #moonlight lovers scenarios #moonlight lovers #vladimir smut #bunny's writing #vladimir x eloise #moonlight lovers smut #moonlight lovers headcanons #moonlight lovers vladimir #nsfwbunny

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iam-kenough · 4 years

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Will you ever notice me? Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Summary: During they wandering in deep snowstorm, man from van der Linde gang found odd looking girl and Dutch decides to take her to camp to see if she can be any use, leading life of outlaw with them. Quickly, new girl develops feelings towards Arthur, but he sees her just as a kid…and she won’t take that! It’s an original character story that starts in the place where Arthur, Dutch and Micah were supposed to first meet with Sadie. Instead she’s already with them.

Authors notes: It’s another chapter and you can find the rest of chapters on my blog if you want to read more of my fanfiction. Hope you gonna enjoy it. Word count: 2558 Chapter 9 Arthur woke up and he wasn't ready to open his eyes. Discovering it was all a dream was more than possible and he still wanted to linger on sweet, sweet fantasy. Iris stirred right next to him and he opened her eyes. He was her big spoon as she was sleeping in his arms. Now he reminded himself. He had her not only once but few times since she discovered it's fun. She was hot for him all night and he needed to be proud of himself. He was a real gentelman down here but he couldn't say that eating her out wasn't something amazing. He had never done that before, just knew it's really nice and he almost forgot about it, because Mary was too nice and well-raised to do such things. They usually had sex without any light too. Thinking about all of it made Arthur realise that for the first time in many years he woke up with morning wood. His eyes almost got back to his skull when she stirred again, rubbing her ass against it. He needed to go away. Do something proper. So Arthur decided to have a bath and shave his face while she still slept. He didn't know he wanted to face anyone from camp, but her and for one second he was thinking of running away from here to be alone with Iris. - You ugly bastard - he muttered to himself in the mirror, shaving right after he scrubbed his body making sure he's clean and fresh for what was coming this night. It was before midday and he was already thinking in what position they gonna do it first. He decided he gonna let her choose. - Morning - he heard voice behind his back and small hand caressing his bicep. - Ain't you the sweetest morning girl - he murmured and caressed her arm back. - I've got something for you - she smiled at him shyly - you need to swallow it without any questions - she said as she showed him spoon of something that was green and had strong herbal smell. - What's that? - Arthur asked, his brows rasing. - A medicine - she replied mysteriously - I said you can't ask, cowboy. You still should rest in your bed after what happened to you. - Told him the same as soon as I saw him - said Dutch, sitting near them and lighting up a cigarette. - Are you gonna in bed with me? - Arthur joked which made her blush. - Mr Morgan! - she scolded - just eat it. And drink this! - Iris handed him a cup of gold tea with honey. - And what's that? - he said, his face twisting in disgust when he tasted herbal paste on his tongue - is it also disgusting? - Oh, I can have it if you don't want it, Arthur - Dutch chimed in, knowing what a treat Iris has. - He's gonna drink this down despite the fact liking it, Dutch. It's for his health. Arthur didn't wanna argue about it and he started to drink. It was surprisingly good. - It's tea? - Yes, with honey. Is it good? - It's actually amazing. Never had that before. - Now you gonna have it quite often - Iris patted his head. She still didn't tell him she knew his sick. She decided to surprise him with results rather than promises. - No idea what I did to deserve that but thank you - Arthur smiled at Iris with small sparks in his eyes. Arthur Morgan would never admit he liked when she cared for him, even at the start of their relationship. At first she just shared food with him if she had anything extra and she asked him if he slept good. Now will at that extra care that he gained he felt amazing. He was starving for affection. With that thought he also started smoking a cigarette. - No way, Mister - she said and took it away, putting it out with her shoe. She also grabbed pack from Arthur's hand and quickly hid it behind her back. - Huh? - If I'm gonna see you smoking a cigarette even once again, we gonna have war and I promise that. - Ah, those women, ain't I right, son? One night of sharing bed and they think they own us. - Fuck you, Dutch - she said without any hesitation, causing Arthur to cough. They all knew he did it to cover ugly laughing - you not gonna give him any of those either - Iris's lips became thin, white line immediately. - What is it all about, huh? - Arthur tried to catch up - I feel like I missed something? - Just...just do what I ask you, and Arthur? I just want you stop smoking, drink that and have your medicine everyday. It's not bad thing to ask for after all what happened? Arthur was surprised. He was smoking since he was young, around 20 years now. He thought that it's gonna be difficult to quit, but seeing Iris's face made him to want at least to try. He was sure he haven't tell anyone but Dutch and Hosea about his condition, not even calling it by names but using metaphors and context, so her harsh reactions on him having a cigarette was weird. But she couldn't know. He nodded slowly and seeing sign of relief on her face was a gift. They first sex this night was something else. It wasn't only something new to experience, at least for Iris, but it showed how badly Arthur Morgan fell for her. He realised he wanted to do nothing but that, now, tomorrow and in ten years. Even if it made pervert out of him. First steps were stressful but as soon as Iris got relaxed she showed Arthur her true side. Which was being young, horny woman. Arthur almost doubted he's gonna be enough for her, with his extremely low stamina but at the same time he was oh so happy. It turned him on to know she was getting wet every time he touched her while they were naked. He was nibbling on her neck, on her breasts and on her nipples. It was third time they changed position this night. They started missionary but as soon he found out she's even more frivolous than he could expect, he decided he's gonna give her the most naughty sex he could think of. Iris was riding Arthur's dick, with her eyes shut and mouth open. Her breasts was bouncing, up and down and it was almost hipnotising to him, all he was thinking about now was her fast paces. He couldn't hold himself back and as soon as she started moaning and trembling, having an orgasm he pulled out and wanked himself at her breasts. - Oh God - she moaned. - Jesus- he groaned. Iris fell at his side, landing on her back. It was probably the nicest feeling she didn't know she could feel. - How was I? - she asked, looking at Arthur, as he tried to ease his breathing. - Look at me, darlin' and you gonna know - he leaned on his elbow to look at her. Iris didn't respond, just blushed and covered herself with blanket. - Aren't you a naughty girl, eh? - he whispered in low voice to her ear, causing shivers running down her spine. And from this night it was like this everyday, as soon as they got to bed Arthur did everything to make love to her the best way he could. To devour her. But it wasn't only in bed, he did everything to catch her off guard anytime he could. At some point he was sure there wasn't place they didn't fuck at. His tent, her tent, leaning against the tree or doggy style, bending Iris against rock or a log while they were away from camp to hunt. He was horny as hell and it was new to him to desire someone's body this much. He loved to talk dirty to her ear and calling her hot names muttered under his breath. Iris was caring about him every day, feeding him with herbs, tea with honey and her love. Where he was there was her, to hold on his arm, or caress his cheek. They were finally happy, together and at peace. But life was life, not a fairytale and it all started to fade. As soon as she discovered Arthur's lungs are better now and he doesn't need to be looked after this much it has loosen their ties. Iris also discovered that loving him is hard thing somehow, Arthur didn't like doing nothing much more than sex, he wasn't talking much. Everytime there was a question he wouldn't answer they ended up fucking. At first they were glued to each other and it lasted weeks but soon Arthur started disappearing, not saying about him getting back to bed at night. She reminded herself as he once told her, that life normal person who sleeps everyday in the same place wasn't for him. Iris tied to be considerate. She was aware that this hot romance will become more balanced with time. But then, she remembered about person who tried to make Arthur regular, obedient man. Mary. Something hit her out of the blue to search for clues as she was sitting in Arthur's tent while he was away again. At first it felt really bad to lurk through his belonging and she was looking around if no one will discover it. They wouldn't mind since everyone knew already that Iris Rhiannon and Arthur Morgan were a thing. But it felt bad to do so anyway and being caught red handed. In a wooden frame hidden under his bed was photo of Mary, her portrait. It looked like Arthur had it for a long time but he wasn't keeping it under the bed all the time, it wasn't dusted. It meant he was probably looking at this photograph before his sleep every day and it hurt her a bit. She could understand that although it was hard to understand. But she tried to stay cool and be true to her words which was promise of loving him even if she and Arthur are gonna be only friends. She put the photograph away but then she felt something under her fingertips. A piece of paper? She looked under the bed again and in the darkest corner he discovered an envelope. But not one, it was almost a hundred of them. Letters from Mary to Arthur Morgan. But they could write all of them in the past, right? Deep breath. Arthur probably keeps them to remember his past and that's okay, you not gonna read it, Iris. Another deep breath. Checking one wouldn't hurt anyone, right? Iris picked the one that look the most recent to her, looking at the ink and paper condition. Her heart dropped low and loud as she saw all the words in front of her. He was seeing her. All the time. Arthur even was with Mary right now. But it wouldn't be that bad if he only helped her with few things, however it appeared like he still was her obedient dog. And there was only thing Iris didn't know if she gonna ever forgive. Him lying to her instead of facing consequences as break-up. Anger? No. Fury? Maybe. She couldn't tell. High pitched sound was getting louder and louder, ringing in her ear. Her pupils became bigger, pumped with adrenaline as she threw letters back under his bed. Without any thinking she just grabbed a horse and got away, galloping through the night. Mrs Grimshaw was right telling girls not to wander alone, she was telling it over and over. Gunshot rang in Iris's ears as she looked at her stomach as it become red, flushing down with blood. Someone shot her. Doctor's office smelled like alcohol and formaline. Iris's didn't mind though. It was one of those weird but pleasant smells. Just like smoke or freshly cut grass. - What a time we have to shot and rob a lady, eh? - Person who did that was surely disappointed, doc. They did it for one dollar and fifty cents. But you are right, it's a wild world. Doctor gave her a gaze with a faint smile. - Am I gonna live? I've been shot before but I don't like that look of yours. - You gonna, miss. You had great luck to survive shot considered lethal. - But? - Excuse me? -There is always a but, especially when it comes to human health. So what is mine? - I menaged to make you safe and sound and it gonna heal properly...- man suddenly grabbed her hand - but because of how much blood you lost you couldn't keep the baby. I don't think you could have any more of them thanks to person who did that to you. A...baby? It felt like doctor was talking to a stranger, not her. You can't have any more of them. It wasn't only the fact she just lost her baby not knowing about being pregnant in first place. She lost ability every woman around her had. Iris was to you to think about children, she never did. But now...It was Arthur's baby and she didn't know she would keep it or if she was able to take reponsibility for it. But it felt bad. Now she didn't had any good reason for some man to love her in the future. Love...This word was weird. She used it not a long time ago to describe her feelings towards Arthur. Future? Why would anyone be with her in the future? She couldn't imagine it anyway. Not after her first love disappearing just like that. When she was sitting in the camp it seemed like people were talking to her. But she couldn't listen through that ringing in her ears. Her eyes were quite empty too. From that day it was just like that. Like a timelapse. She was sitting, not moving, not eating and life around were going on and on, people were walking around, trying to get to her. But they couldn't. -Iris? Hey! - it was Dutch's voice. It seemed to be far away though. But it wasn't important now. So I walked into the haze And a million dirty waves Now I see you lying there Like a lilo losing air, air Black rocks and the shoreline surf Still dead summer I cannot bear And I wipe the sand from my eyes The Spanish Sahara, the place that you'd wanna Leave the horror here (...)I'm the fury in your head, I'm the fury in your bed, I'm the ghost in the back of your head

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x original character #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x female character #arthur morgan romance #arthur morgan angst #arthur morgan smutt #rdr2 #rdr2 oc #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader

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sue-bts · 4 years

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How to Destroy Jeon Jungkook

Chapter 1

Pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook

Genre: Eventual Smut/Slow Burn/Highschool AU

Words: 4,821

Summary: Taehyung usually isn't up to much, but Senior year brings about serges of boredom. So, Jimin devises a plan to mess with High School's baddest boy Jeon Jungkook. And Taehyung has to go along with it.

But a two day field trip could ruin it all.

/ AO3 LINK /

Freshman year, for most sane people, is a nightmare. Taehyung’s experience with it was no exception. He sat with his ankles curled in on each other during his first period on his first day of school. Usually, he’d whip out a sketchbook to lazily draw, but he was antsy and didn’t know how strict the teacher would be with the class. The bell hadn’t rung yet, Taehyung was five (agonizing) minutes early. The teacher-later revealed to go by Mr. Min-was casually scrolling his computer, not even glancing at his new freshman class. Taehyung was unaware of his ease, thinking every shift in his desk would alarm the teacher and certainly have him kicked out of school on the first day.

Jungkook was different-well, Taehyung didn’t know his name was Jungkook yet. As the bell finally began to charm, signaling Taehyung’s waiting period to be over, the black haired boy marched into class. He rode the sound of the bell like a pro, like it beckoned him into class. Already eyes were drawn to him, his ease, his stroll. It’s hard to resist people like that, they do what everyone else envisions their ideal self to act like. Taehyung forced himself not to watch the other boy, he wanted to be the one kid who didn’t care, not admit to being an admirer. But he felt the pull to look back up, to trail after the boy’s figure. From the corner of his eye he could see the sweep of black hair, his arms shrugging off his backpack, his dramatic fall into his desk, the boisterous sound of he and his friends exchanging pleasantries. Finally the bell faded out and the class was met with silence. Maybe for a split second there was silence. And then there was Jungkook.

He was obnoxious. Taehyung saw how the teacher already regarded the boy. Eying him up, the lines in the teacher’s face emphasizing his disdain with the boy. Roll call revealed the class clown’s name to be Jeon Jungkook. Many eyelashes batted in the direction of the name, girls were already writing their names with his last name, practicing the sound of the name as it rolled off their tongues. “This is my boyfriend… Jeon Jungkook,” “Oh, last night? It’s so embarrassing…I hooked up with Jeon Jungkook! Can you imagine that?!”

No ones eye’s batted when Kim Taehyung’s name was called, he raised a mild hand up from his scratch paper and the teacher hardly even raised his eyes from his list. Taehyung already felt a tinge of disdain in his stomach for the black haired boy-correction: Jeon Jungkook. Just his name sounded pretentious. But Taehyung couldn’t resist constantly sneaking a peek over at him. He was across the class from Taehyung, at a diagonal, in the perfect position for viewing. And Taehyung, despite his reserves, his morals, always took advantage of this seating arrangement perk.

The moments he lived for were when Jungkook’s eyes would travel and they’d flutter past Taehyung’s gaze, but sometimes they’d catch. The stare would linger, Taehyung looking away, a blush covering his cheeks and his fingers pausing from whatever writing or drawing he was in the midst of. Jungkook’s eyes would always wander away as quickly as they’d come across Taehyung. Maybe it was just a random glance, class was boring and eyes easily wander about. Those moments were chaste, but for the rest of Freshman year Taehyung always longed for them to be more frequent, and for much longer durations.

The glitch in the Matrix-which was Jungkook-did not disrupt Taehyung’s Sophomore or Junior year. Taehyung thought of him as “a glitch in the Matrix” because normal life would be proceeding day to day, and then on a random occasion, Jungkook would once again appear.

Taehyung, not having a class with him anymore, was able to turn a blind eye to the rowdy boy’s antics as he terrorized the campus. Jungkook was always up to something, running around in spring on the quad, wearing little puffy shorts to flaunt his athletic calves. And in winter he’d be tucked away under large jackets and black bucket hats, never walking down stairs but riding the railing, a gaggle of girls following after.

Taehyung would let himself observe, it was like a zoo, a large lion performing a mating dance every day to a different admirer. Taehyung appreciated the distance though, not having a class with Jungkook meant he could easily scurry away before getting anywhere close to the black haired boy. He feared Jungkook to the extent one would fear a vat of poison. Definitely not because of Jungkook’s sharp features, broad shoulders and the way his body was slouched with ease. Taehyung was intimidated in how Jungkook would sit on top of tables in the cafeteria, throwing food at his friends, and during passing period he’d be standing on benches and then jumping onto his friends shoulders, running around like that until yard duty would stop them. Taehyung was content with his Jungkook-free lifestyle, it was quiet and his focus wasn’t interrupted by pretty boys with lazy behavior.

Taehyung’s Jungkook-free lifestyle was ruined when he walked into his English class, Senior year, 6th period, and instantly met eyes with the very boy was he content in never speaking to again

Of course. Taehyung’s luck was just that good.

“I don’t know why you’re so upset by this, you literally have spoken to him like… once? Twice?” Jimin says, veering the car as they head off campus for lunch the next day.

Taehyung winces at Jimin’s driving skills, the wheel continuously driving over the many orange traffic bumps.

“It’s not about me talking to him, Jimin,” Taehyung starts, his face contorted with disgust, “It’s like… I don’t know, his presence annoys me.”

Jimin rolls his eyes with a huff. “Bullshit, more like his looks annoy you.”

Taehyung really wants to punch Jimin’s arm for that comment, sadly Jimin is the one driving and Taehyung is too much of a wimp to commit to that.

“I’ll admit it, I’m one of Jungkook’s many admirers, but I’m of the group of guys who wants to be him, not fuck him.”

Jimin lets out an exasperated huff, his eyes squinting at the road

“Can’t say the same for you though,” Taehyung says, laughing, watching Jimin’s face contort with a sly grin and blush.

“Oh shut up,” Jimin scrunches his nose in the direction of Tae in the passenger seat. “Jungkook is way too much of a whore for me to go after, the whole school can agree his dick has been everywhere.”

“Not everywhere, Jiminie…” Taehyung giggles as they pull up to their favorite taco truck. Jimin does not play along with Taehyung’s grotesque antics. He twists his keys so the car sputters to a quiet, spinning in his seat to face Taehyung head on.

“I think you should give Jungkook a chance, I’ve heard he’s calmed down a lot, I mean it’s senior year, I think everyone has,” Jimin says.

Taehyung wants to agree with his friend, but he can’t drop how irritated he gets by Jungkook’s presence. “I swear Jimin, honest to god, I want to believe you…”

Jimin throws back his head and rolls his eyes, “Agh! Tae! When have I ever been wrong when it comes to guy troubles?!”

They get out of the car and shut the doors almost in unison. Taehyung laughs at Jimin’s question, “Actually, I can recall so many times you’ve been wrong.”

Jimin does a motion with his hand to disregard whatever Taehyung said as they walk towards the truck.

“The point is, I don’t think Jungkook is half bad. I saw him at a party a few weeks ago and he was helping a lot of really drunk people to not throw up all over themselves.”

“Jimin… my appetite…” Taehyung whines, dramatically leaning back and forth like he’s going to be sick.

“Maybe he’s just rowdy in class to get your attention Tae Tae, maybe he’s secretly in love with your little artsy ass,” Jimin muses, his cheeks puffing with a smile. Taehyung wishes he already had his burrito so he could throw it at Jimin’s face.

“Yeah, sure, because I love when boy’s are loud as fuck in class and never sit still.”

“I think my little Tae is in love!!!” Jimin cries out, his high pitch voice alerting some other people’s attention in line. Taehyung looks around in distress with Jimin’s loud proclamation.

“I’m starting to hate you as much as I hate ‘Jeon Jungkook,’” Taehyung says, his low voice a husky whisper until he raises his pitch to say Jungkook’s name, mocking girl’s voices who constantly yell out the name any chance they get.

Jimin is used to ignoring Taehyung though, just smiling back at his friend, “You are going to have so much fun in 6th period, I can’t wait!”

Taehyung curses Jimin when he shows up to his 6th period, burrito in hand, 5 minutes late. The class is nearly dead silent and Mr. Kim looks up from his desktop when he hears the door abruptly slam behind Taehyung. Taehyung noticeably cringes with the noise, everyone turning to look at him when they hear the sudden noice.

“I had people sit where they want today so I could make a seating chart for the year. There’s one seat left so you can take that one,” Mr. Kim says, unapologetically, hardly caring enough to look at Taehyung directly. Mr. Kim doesn’t realize how much pain he is currently inflicting of Taehyung’s body, Taehyung scans the room for the empty desk only to see that it is beside Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.

He should’ve stayed at the fucking taco truck. Taehyung is too done with high school to have to deal with this shit. But he manages to gain control of his limbs and muster the effort to walk over to his empty desk. It’s like walking towards his own execution, the chair daunting and the metal of it cold. Jungkook doesn’t even look up, doesn’t acknowledge that the seat beside him is the one vacant. His dark hair just swoops over his eyes and his shoulders turn away from Taehyung to begin chatting with his friends to his left. Mr. Kim finally stands from his computer and shushes them as he begins the day’s lesson.

Thus begins Day 1 (of sitting next to Jungkook).

“I’m assuming everyone read chapters 8 through eleven last night. So, turn to your seating partner and discuss it for a few minutes, then I’ll hand out the prompt, and on one sheet of paper write down a cohesive response. It’s due by the end of the period,” Mr. Kim says, passing out the prompt paper to the different rows of students.

Taehyung feels a rush of relief with this and turns to his right, face to face with a random girl.

“You’re not my partner,” she says with a little smirk, “he is,” and she points to Jungkook to Taehyung’s left. Taehyung’s stomach drops, how lucky is he?!

“Oh…” Taehyung audibly sighs, slowly pivoting his body to an angle to face Jungkook, but the other boy hardly looks up from his paper. Taehyung scans the paper, it’s still blank, there’s really nothing for Junkgook to be so focused on.

“Uh… so… I did the reading… and I thought the chapters really had a lot to do with religion… and loss of… innocence…?” Taehyung slowly drawls out, words light on his tongue so as not to embarrass him if they end up being wrong interpretations. Jungkook does a small nod but still doesn’t meet Taehyung’s eyes. Taehyung gives up with his efforts, making sure to give a large uhmf as he spins in his chair to sit normally. That catches Jungkook’s attention and the boy looks up with a small smile creeping along his featuers. Taehyung tries not to pay notice to the boy’s change in attitude, not wanting to instantly forgive him after being so ignored just before.

“Wait-what’s your name?” Jungkook asks, his voice casual and at ease. Taehyung, on the other hand, is rigid. He wants to grab for his sketchbook and quickly scribble with his lead pressed as hard to the paper as he can before snapping it. He doesn’t know how such a simple question can have him so riled. Maybe it’s in Jungkook’s tone, or how he doesn’t change his posture to even show if he wants an answer.

“Taehyung.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’ve had a class with you before,” Jungkook says, and his eyes drop from Taehyung to look back at his empty paper. The conversation ends with that. Taehyung doesn’t even try to correct Jungkook and mention their freshman year class. Taehyung was silent that entire year, he doesn’t really expect Jungkook to have noticed him.

“Are you guys going to get started on the assignment?” Mr. Kim asks, interrupting Taehyung’s train of thought. Mr. Kim also has a way about him of nonchalantness, asking a question and already moving on before really getting an answer. He says these things to maintain order in the class, but his eyes never take in the empty sheet. Taehyung grunts a response, something like, oh we’re still thinking about it, but his mind is still hung up on Jungkook.

“I didn’t read,” Jungkook deadpans, dropping his pencil from his hand onto the desk and promptly grabbing his phone and earbuds from his backpack. Taehyung lets out a deep exhale through his nose, his nostrils puffing, and slides the blank paper and prompt sheet onto his desk. It doesn’t seem Jungkook is even apologetic about it either, putting in his ear buds, concealed by the hoodie he pulls over his hair.

“Thanks man,” he mumbles as he fully reclines into his desk and his eyes shut. Taehyung is nearly dumbfounded by Jungkook’s behavior, just watching the other boy in his blissed out state before finally turning his attention back to the assignment.

What. An. Asshole.

Later that night Taehyung tries to convey the story to Jimin over the phone, but Jimin seems to be an avid Jungkook supporter.

“I get it Tae, he’s popular, he’s attractive, and he uses that so he doesn’t have to do his own work… it’s horrible,” Jimin sighs, his voice small and sweet over the phone. Taehyung huffs, wanting it to be more complicated than it is.

“I don’t think he’s attractive!” He blurts, sounding defiant and silly.

“Oh c’mon now Tae, don’t flatter yourself. I think the entire student body at our school can agree he’s attractive.”

“Well, I just don’t see it. And second of all, even if he was, it’s just his whole demeanor that annoys the crap out of me. He doesn’t even notice my existence next to him.”

Jimin is quiet for a little while over the phone and then a small giggle escapes him. “You should make him notice you!” Jimin exclaims.

Taehyung is already rolling his eyes at Jimin’s antics, but still quieting over the phone to prepare for Jimin’s instructions. Teahyung would usually play into Jimin’s little games, smiling wide and finding it all very exhilarating, but with the thought of Jungkook on his mind, Taehyung is very serious about the issue at hand.

“You should try to act out like he does, be a class clown, don’t help him with partner assignments, act as laid back and fuckboy-ish as possible,” Jimin snickers. He speaks in almost a whisper, the idea so exciting to him he feels he must hush his voice.

Taehyung lets out a sharp laugh, “I do want to pass high school, Jimin.”

Jimin huffs, “you can pass and still act like you don’t have a stick up your ass all the time.”

Taehyung is mildly offended by the comment but lets it slide. “I guess it could be interesting…” Taehyung finds himself mumbling into the phone. He wants to take the words back but Jimin already latches on with a sheer giggle, followed by a trail of fast words spilling out of him.

“See?! Just do your homework in secret and act like an idiot when you’re around Jungkook, it’s perfect! Ugh! Tae! This is going to be so good! You’re going to beat Jungkook at his own game. You’re going to out fuckboy the fuckboy!”

Taehyung can practically picture how Jimin’s nose must be scrunching up while he laughs at the other end of the phone. He likes how excited Jimin gets about his mischievous plans, and that excitement carries over to Taehyung, lifting his mild expression to that of slightly pleased with himself.

Hopefully the plan will work and he won’t just end up looking like a complete try-hard at being a not-try-hard. Despite the little flutters of nervousness in the pit of his stomach, at least he’s actually looking forward to 6th period tomorrow.

The next day, Taehyung pauses before automatically going for his usual sense of style. He reconsiders, eyeing up his closet, and thinks of what a more laid back fuckboy might wear. Usually Taehyung opts for a chic look, loose fitting jackets over a graphic tee (also loose), and then a set of…loose pants. He really likes loose fitting clothes with a pair of converse or slides, then maybe a hat to top off the look. He gets complements all the time on how he dresses, but he doesn’t dress like the lacrosse star Jeon Jungkook. This is who he must channel from now own.

The way Jungkook dresses reminds Taehyung of middle school, athletic shorts and a Patagonia long-sleeve. Taehyung goes to his dresser and reaches farther into it than he has in probably years. His hands finally land on a plain long-sleeve with a random brand’s logo and then some tight fitting light wash skinny jeans. Taehyung feels he morphed into a different person in the span of a few minutes, completely disgusted by his mirror’s reflection.

When Jimin sees him for the first time Jimin practically screams. He does do a few little jumps/skips though (which might be worse than if he’d just screamed).

“Taehyung! I did not know you even owned stuff like that,” Jimin says, snickering, landing a punch to Taehyung’s shoulder.

Taehyung wants to laugh but he just rolls his eyes, “I feel naked Jimin, this outfit is absurd.”

“But you do look like every other straight guy at this school, you’ll definitely have Jungkook fooled.”

“Ok so… how long are we going to keep this going?” Taehyung asks, a desperateness to his voice as he looks down at his body. It looks like his head is attached to a completely new person. His shoulders fill out the shirt almost too well, he must have bought the at least 5 years ago when he was a much smaller Taehyung.

“Y’know what our game-plan should be?” Jimin asks.

“I literally don’t, that’s why I asked.”

Jimin laughs, “Oh right. Ok, this is what should happen: You have a month to make Jungkook your friend, if you guys go to a party together, like as two friends going together, you’ll have won and you can stop dressing like that.”

Taehyung wants to strip from these tight fitting clothes the second he hears what Jimin says. “What?! That’s so extreme. Jungkook is so popular, even if we were class friends he won’t hangout with me outside of school.”

Jimin shrugs, “You know how I’m the teacher’s aid in your english class…”

Taehyung dramatically leans back, letting out a large groan, “Jimin, you are literally the worst and I don’t even know what you’re about to say.”

Jimin smiles, “Your english class is going on a field trip in one month and I’m in charge of randomly pairing people to stay in the same hotel room.”

Taehyung’s heart lurches from his chest, he wants to smack Jimin in the face, but he can’t help but stand there without movement and let Jimin continue to unravel his evil plan.

“If you don’t follow through with the plan… I can pair you two lovebirds up in the same room for 2 nights.”

Taehyung was expecting this kind of thing from Jimin, Jimin is always up to stuff like this. In 6th grade Jimin somehow managed to have a joint birthday party with his crush and this resulted in a wonderful photo collage of them cutting the cake together, dancing, everything mirroring a wedding photo book. Jimin has always been devious like that. Taehyung doesn’t know how, but Jimin always finds a way to get exactly what he wants, it’s probably the smile, his little crescent eyed smile.

“Ok Tae Tae… you know I’m your friend,” Jimin says sweetly, “I won’t actually hold you to any of this if you don’t want to… but it’s senior year! I need something to root for because it’d be so entertaining if you actually tried this out.”

“Jimin-” Taehyung tries to start.

“And once this is over and you win at Jungkook being our friend, maybe you can come up with a funny challenge for me and I’ll do it!”

“Jimin. Just listen to me for a second. I’ll do it. But if I win the challenge and get Jungkook to go with me to a party, you owe me like… a lot of money.”

Jimin smiles, knowing how disposable his income is, and juts his hand out to Taehyung. Taehyung with an annoyed sigh-that does have a pitch of endearment to it-meets Jimin’s and they shake on their plan.

Jungkook is doomed, (in a fun way).

Taehyung is, of course, on time for his 6th period class. He manages to hold a to-go box from lunch, a drink sweating with condensation, and his phone, somehow squished between two fingers. He wishes he could go into class and set all this stuff down with time to spare-as he would normally do-but instead he waits until the bell begins to ring and turns from his hidden corner and begins to walk to class. Jungkook is actually ahead of him and holds the door for Taehyung as they make it in before the bell fades out. Mr. Kim does a wave of his hand to acknowledge that they weren’t “actually” late as they find their seats.

Day 2 (of sitting next to Jungkook).

“So much traffic,” Taehyung mumbles, already trying out his new persona, voice languid and his posture at ease. Jungkook still hardly returns Taehyung’s attention.

“Tell me about it,” he grunts in response. At least Taehyung got a response, that’s a development.

Taehyung doesn’t try to continue the conversation though, he opens up his to-go box and begins to nibble at the remains. While Taehyung makes himself busy with his food, he uses his peripheral vision to eye up Jungkook as much as he can. Jungkook is dressed very similar to Taehyung, a white t-shirt on, paired with black shorts and some sneakers. The black and white color palette isn’t really Taehyung’s forte-as he usually goes for a beige or monochrome color scheme-but he admits that Jungkook pulls off the simple shades. Jungkook’s black hair goes well with his often black outfits, and the white t-shirt not only contrasts the large amount of black in his pallet, but also doesn’t drown out his skin tone, he’s tan from all his time on the field. The skin that is revealed, most of his arms, most of his legs, his neck, it’s all a warm honey color that would probably taste sweet under the tongue-

Taehyung tries not to get caught actually eyeing up Jungkook. And also not lost in his thoughts. They were definitely spiraling.

Jungkook turns to his friends and makes a comment about whatever assignment they’re in the midst of working on in a different class, Taehyung tilts a head and listens in on what subject they’re discussing.

“Has anyone done the Calc homework?” one of the girls in the group asks. Jungkook groans, finally a noise from him louder than his usual sighs and mumbles.

“Literally no one has, I have no idea who to get it from,” another girl answers.

“The group chat hasn’t been answering either, I think they’re sick of us asking,” one of the guys adds, with a laugh that negates all his previous words.

Taehyung has done the calc homework. But that isn’t part of his new persona. His new persona would ask for it from the group chat and if that didn’t work he’d simply not do it. So that becomes Taehyung’s advice.

“I heard it’s worth like no points,” Taehyung chimes in. Heads turn to look past Jungkook to where Taehyung sits. “I’m not gonna do it and I heard a lot of people aren’t.”

“Really?” The first girl asks, her face turning from concern to a proud smirk. “See guys, Taehyung isn’t stressing so I’m sure we don’t have to be either.”

Taehyung really doesn’t like how she said his name like that, it ruins his persona that he invented today. This new Taehyung is not the voice of reason when it comes to homework. New Taehyung didn’t hear about there even beinghomework until after it was due.

“Dude, I do the homework to get points so I don’t have to do good on every test, you don’t have to worry about that cause you do good on the tests,” Jungkook says. He turns his attention to Taehyung and Taehyung swears this might be the first time they’ve had a face to face conversation throughout the span of high school. But what Jungkook said isn’t a very strong starting point for Taehyung’s plan for achieving friendship. Jungkook’s words are sharp and Taehyung wishes he could just roll his eyes and ignore Jungkook as he would normally do. Taehyung tries to play it cool though, scoffing at Jungkook’s comment and slouching farther into his seat.

“She doesn’t actually look at what we write on the paper for homework, just scribble down some numbers and you’ll get full credit if you really care.”

Jungkook raises a brow and turns back to his friends with his shoulders raised.

“I mean, we’re only like 2 days into the school year, she might be an easy homework grader,” Jungkook says, his words instantly encouraging the rest of the group to agree.

One of Jungkook’s friends, Jung Hoseok, leans forward from his seat and outstretches his arm to Taehyung, “Dab me up bro, you’re a real one,” he says, fist bumping Taehyung who obliges with a mild smile. “Did you have a senior friend last year who told you how she grades?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung responds, dropping his arm from the fist bump and letting his arm slouch onto the back of Jungkook’s seat. Jungkook obviously feels the brush of Taehyung’s arm as it glides from his seat and back to Tae’s lap, and Jungkook’s body tenses with the sensation. Undetected from the rest of the group, Jungkook’s eyes dart over to look at Taehyung, but Taehyung tries his hardest not to emote, meeting Jungkook’s stare and then ignoring him to look behind him at his friends. Jungkook looks away from Taehyung when the brown haired boy disregards the eye contact.

“Bro, that’s hella chill, dab me up again, you’re for real the plug,” Hoseok says again, smiling widely and reaching behind Jungkook’s shoulder’s again to fist bump Taehyung. Taehyung, feeling even bolder after this exchange going so well, lets his arm slip back to Jungkook’s seat but leaves it there. The rest of Jungkook’s friends turn to each other to start their own conversations and Jungkook sits still with his eyes trained on his paper. Taehyung, with his free hand, starts picking at his leftover food again, and only lets his arm drop when Mr. Kim finally stands up to formally begin the class’ lesson.

When Taehyung’s arm casually slips off Jungkook’s chair to rest at Taehyung’s lap, Jungkook’s eyes follow. Taehyung is internally very focused on the lecture, outwardly projecting a dazed off appearance, one of someone completely spacing out. So he doesn’t see how Jungkook watches his arm, Taehyung’s tan skin only revealed in select places from under his long sleeve. What are exposed are his large hands, the veins are prominent and clench as he grazes his palm from his thigh to his knee. He does this back and forth, the repetition enticing Jungkook, who wishes he wasn’t so invested in how the boy’s hand moves. It grabs onto his knee, and from there slides up to his thigh, and then once again back to his knee. It has Jungkook imagining different things, what that large hand would feel like grazing up his skin-

Jungkook finally snaps out of it, trying to find an object to space out on, to drown out the sound of the lecture and forget all these new, strange and invasive thoughts.

But he can’t stop his mind from circling back to Kim Taehyung.

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